Oh, my, just a couple more days before the final episode... I'm going to be sad when this ends, but I'm thrilled that so many of you are still on this journey with me.
Onward we go...
Chapter 18
D'Artagnan poked at his food and listened to the voices around him. The chateau had become a well-organized command location. General Thorell had visited with his men, those recovering from their injuries, and those who just needed to hear the encouraging words of their leader. The burial grounds had doubled in size and now held fresh mounds and blades as grave markers. The Fontaine Family had promised it would never be planted or grazed upon.
He looked at the list of names of the deceased, the missing, and the wounded. Levi's name had been scratched off the missing list after Marc had spent several hours searching for him. Levi was finally found, trapped beneath a dead horse and cursing the equine for its lack of mobility. Sore, but uninjured, the first thing Levi did was find a plate of hot food and eat in record time. Even Porthos had watched in admiration as the meal was consumed. Madame Ruth had stood behind him with a ladle filled and at the ready. He had eaten so much that he had to relax the belt of his doublet.
It had been the first time the men had laughed in days, if not weeks. When Levi tried to burp a rhythmic poem, he only made it halfway through, but it didn't prevent him from trying again… and then again. Had it not been for General Thorell's unexpected visit to the kitchens, the antics would have continued.
D'Artagnan had listened to the men share stories of those they had lost, friends they had ridden beside, and been commissioned with. Fellow musketeers who became brothers. The men grieved their losses. They spoke of home, their wives and families, and they listened quietly as shovels struck stone, slipped past muddied mounds, and as the names of the deceased continued to grow.
Porthos shoved his plate to the table and took a seat across from d'Artagnan. He rested his elbows on the rough wood, rubbed his face, and took a deep breath. "Aramis is resting," he said, and exhaled with a long sigh.
"Athos?"
Porthos shook his head, grabbed his fork and twisted it a few times within his fingers before stabbing a chunk of meat. "He had another fit." He dropped the fork and listened to the metal clang against the bowl. "It was a mild one… but," he shrugged and looked out the window as the sun set, "it's been two days… he can't go on much longer… not like this. He's just goin' to get weaker and weaker." He tapped the table with the tips of fingers and rubbed his brow with this other hand.
"Who's with him now?"
"Marc," Porthos said and then watched d'Artagnan get to his feet. "There 'as not been a change in hours…"
D'Artagnan sighed, returned to his seat, and placed his elbows on the table with a look of defeat. "I want to go home," he said with a hint of guilt in his tone. "I want to see my wife, sleep in my own bed… I want to listen to Athos give orders for palace duties." He rubbed his face and concentrated on his eyes until they watered. "I want to sit with my friends at the Wren and drink warm ale and maybe even start a fight with red guards." He looked toward Porthos. "I miss fighting with them."
Porthos chuckled, looked at d'Artagnan, and then laughed again. "We all want that… but a fight with the red guards would bring a smile to my face…. Just like old times." He grabbed his fork and took a bite of the chunk of meat. "Let Marc sit with 'im a while then I'll go with you… maybe between the two of us we can pull that stubborn fool out of his misery — get 'im back on his feet and healin'."
"Do you think he can… survive this?" d'Artagnan grabbed a piece of bread from the community bowl to his right and tore a piece off. He wiped it along the inside of his bowl and collected a heap of gravy.
Porthos nodded as he chewed and then swallowed. "I hope so."
"Lieutenant?" Alexander said as he entered the dining hall.
Porthos turned and looked at him. "What is it?"
Alexander stepped forward, handed him a sheet of parchment with the updated list of those deceased. "Billy is on that list, sir."
"Billy?" D'Artagnan asked and looked at Porthos in question as he took a deep breath and nodded.
"He was found in the undercroft," Alexander said, "we found where they had held Captain Athos… Billy's body was found covered a short distance from there."
Porthos rubbed his face, nodded, and excused Alexander. "It was Billy who gave Athos' position away," he said. He looked at d'Artagnan and shrugged. "He disappeared sometime after the battle started… 'e must 'ave tried to save Athos."
D'Artagnan winced and then shoved his plate toward the center of the table with his thumb. "He wanted to be a musketeer."
"They all do," Porthos said, "but few can be." He finished his meal, slapped the table with the palm of his hand, and then stood. "Let's see to Athos… maybe we can find somethin' that will annoy 'im so much 'e'll awaken." He looked toward the door as Levi entered with a plate of food. "Still eatin'?" He cocked an eyebrow and watched Levi take a seat at the table.
"Haven't stopped," Levi said and stabbed a chunk of meat.
D'Artagnan chuckled, and said, "You'd better be careful, Porthos, you might lose your title." He walked to the exit and turned and looked at Porthos, who followed.
"Will never 'appen," he said with a frown.
