Chapter 23
Athos slipped into his doublet. He felt his side twinge, but he ignored it as he pushed each button through its adjoining holes, and then tucked his scarf beneath his collar. The sun was barely up, but he was ready to be back on his feet, to get outside into the fresh air, to see his men, and finally arrange plans for their return to Paris.
D'Artagnan had found Athos' weapons belt hidden within the confines of the closet Raboin had been using. D'Artagnan had taken the time to polish the sword, the powder tin, while Aramis cleaned the pistol. The recently oiled leather fitted comfortably around his waist and hip. He rubbed his face with his hands and was grateful he had spent some time trimming his beard and mustache. He felt more alive than he had in days, and while he still battled weakness, and he tired easily, he was ready. His men needed to get home, at least for a little while.
Athos pulled open the door, nodded to a house servant as they carried a tray down the hall, and then casually left the chateau.
"You look better… much better, Captain Athos," Piers said as he dumped a bucket of water onto the bushes behind him. He stood beside his big draft mare and motioned with his thumb toward the musketeer encampment. "I can't thank you enough for what you did for me and my family." He cleared his throat, looked at his home, and then ran a hand along his horse's hindquarters. "We still have a home because of you and your men. I would like to repay you for your kindness."
Athos paused beneath the arches that led to the camp, and then looked at the small buds on the seemingly dead ivy that would turn green and weave along the fence, over the arches, and eventually the bridge itself. "There is no need, Monsieur Fontaine —"
"I've spoken to Walnut, and I've spoken to my wife and daughters." Piers said. "I would like to offer our services," he looked at his mare, and then glanced toward the stables, "and provide horses and carts for your injured men to return to Paris — I need to pick up supplies — it would be beneficial for both of us."
Athos was about to say something, but paused.
"Between Walnut, myself, and perhaps a few of your men familiar with driving… those unable to ride can still return with the rest of you. I insist, Captain. General Thorell has assured me that my family will be protected while I am away."
Athos stepped forward and then ran his hand along the heavy neck of the big draft. "I think that is a generous offer, Monsieur Fontaine, and on behalf of my men, I thank you."
Piers smiled and exhaled. "Good. It is settled then." He looked across the canal as Walnut led two mares toward him. "Just let me know when you would like to depart and we will be ready."
Athos smiled, patted the horse's neck, and said, "Tomorrow morning. We'll leave at dawn."
Piers nodded and watched Walnut pull the horses to a stop as Athos walked toward him.
The big horses stood patiently beside Walnut. They lowered their heads, relaxed their tails, and waited patiently for their next cues. Walnut slipped both leads into his left hand and looked at Athos, who stopped and looked at him.
"It's good to see you walking, Captain," Walnut said.
"Have you ever considered a life as a musketeer?"
Walnut smiled and exposed generous teeth and cheeks that spread wide across his face. He laughed, and said, "You're most kind to think of me in such a manner, Captain." He looked at the chateau, and then waved as one of his nieces waved to him through her bedroom window. "My life is here. I do not have much, but what I do have…" he shrugged, "I cherish."
Athos shook Walnut's hand, clapped his shoulder, and said, "Thank you — for all you've done."
Walnut looked again at his niece and said, "We should be thanking you," he turned toward the musketeer camp, "and them." He nodded once, clicked his tongue, and then led the horses across the bridge and beneath the archway.
Athos quirked a gentle smile, looked toward the camp and the musketeers who stepped outside of their tents, stopped what they were doing, and stood at attention as their captain walked through the camp. The men clapped, tapped their blades and made them sing, and stomped their feet.
Athos inhaled deeply and with admiration looked at his men while Porthos, Aramis, d'Artagnan, Levi and Marc stepped toward him.
"What are your orders, Captain?" Porthos asked. His smile reached his ears. He stood with his shoulders back, his chest out, and with a sense of renewed pride and energy.
Athos stopped, turned, looked at his men, and then looked at his lieutenants. "Let's go home."
Coming Next: Reunions, Duty & Honor
