Aramis was fuming. He glared at Porthos. His friend was sitting opposite him on the other side of the creaky wooden table. Aramis considered several things he wanted to do to his friend when their ordeal was over and Porthos had recovered. Aramis was under no illusion that Porthos was going to suffer, and Aramis would ensure he was treated. But when Porthos was fit again the man would owe Aramis.

He pulled at his restraints, testing the tightness of the rough rope. He knew his wrists were likely to be bruised and grazed from his actions, but he had to try. The stone mason laughed. He rested his strong scared hand over Aramis' right wrist stilling his action.

'We have no quarrel with you, Monsieur,' he said. 'You are merely here to encourage your friend to take his punishment like a man.'

The man behind Aramis rested a dusty chisel on his shoulder, the blade pointing at his neck. The threat was real enough, the strong masons could do some real damage with their tools. Aramis did not fancy being on the receiving end.

He was still annoyed with himself for getting caught, but ten burly stonemasons were a formidable foe even for two well-armed Musketeers. He had been knocked about a bit. He would be bruised and battered from the encounter, but there would be no lasting injuries.

And if Porthos did as he was told he would be left - relatively - unharmed as well. Although he was probably in for a rough few hours.

The leader of the little group of annoyed masons started to prepare Porthos' unique punishment. Ten small cups were arranged on the table. A bottle of spirit sat beside them.

'We've already added the poison,' said the mason. 'Two of the cups are not as innocent as the others. We'll take turns drinking. We might both get the poison, or one of us might get a double dose.'

Porthos watched the spirit being poured into the cups. They both knew the odds were supposedly even, but it was more likely the mason had an advantage. And Aramis was inclined to agree the man deserved that advantage. Porthos had cheated them out of money after all.

'This won't kill him,' the mason said, turning his attention to Aramis, 'and Philip says you are the Musketeer field medic, I suspect you know how to deal with poisonings. You will probably be able to ease his suffering somewhat … if he can get you free of your bindings once we are done with him.'

There was a general chuckle from the other men in the room. Aramis went back to glaring at his friend. Porthos had not made eye contact for some time. As soon as it became clear they had been grabbed off the street for a specific reason, Porthos remained contrite. He had not even bothered trying to argue with the men around him. The masons made it clear that if Porthos did not take his comeuppance Aramis would be hurt.

'I will let you pick the first cups for us each.'

Porthos sighed, resigned to his fate. He reached out for two of the cups, putting one in front of the mason and keeping one in his hand. The mason picked up the cup meant for him and drank it in one swift motion, putting the empty cup back on the table with a thud.

Porthos finally glanced at Aramis. Aramis hoped he was able to convey how angry he was to his friend. He was in no position to help or hinder what was happening. Being bound and gagged with a chisel pressing against his neck left him a mere bystander to the proceedings.

Porthos drank the spirit, dropping the cup back on the table with a sigh.

'Only four more to go,' said the mason as he selected the next two cups. 'You won't know if you are being affected by the poison for a few minutes.'

Aramis wondered if he saw a slight shake in Porthos' hand as he reached out for the second cup. He drank the contents quickly, putting the cup back on the table at the same time as the mason.

Aramis could hear a couple of the men whispering to one another behind him. He could not make out what they were saying. The whole event was proving to be an entertaining spectacle to the wronged masons.

It was not the first time Porthos had cheated, Aramis doubted it would be the last. But it was the first time he had been found out and revenge was being enacted in such a unique manner. The masons knew that they would not get away with hurting or killing the man that had cheated them, but they could embarrass him. They could cause him to worry about the well-being of his friend.

Aramis doubted Porthos would try to cheat in the tavern the stonemasons frequented again any time soon.

The six remaining cups beckoned the duelling parties. The mason indicated for Porthos to pick a cup. He reached out and took the one closest to him, he glanced at the mason and took his drink. The mason chuckled and picked a cup - seemingly at random - and took his turn.

Aramis could see a sheen of sweat on Porthos' face. Was it due to the effect of the poison taking hold, or was he just anticipating the discomfort ingesting the poison would have on him? The mason paused for several seconds, perhaps even a minute. He spent the time grinning at Porthos, watching as his discomfort increased.

'I think your punishment is befitting for your crime. A little humiliation should teach you a lesson. You won't try to fleece the hard-working people of Paris of their money again.'

Aramis doubted Porthos would change his ways, but he would be more careful, at least for a while.

Porthos' hand was shaking when he reached for his fourth cup. The mason allowed Porthos to dictate which cup he drank from. The pair drank at the same time. Porthos leaned back in his chair after putting the cup down. He looked distinctly ill. Aramis thought through what he would need to concoct an emetic. The sooner Porthos' body was purged of whatever the poison was the better. The mason had assured them it was not deadly, but Aramis did not want to take any chances.

'Last one,' said the mason who was still not showing any ill effects.

Aramis wondered if they had indeed stacked the metaphorical cards against Porthos.

The last cups were drunk at the same time. Porthos could not manage to set the cup down tidily. It tipped on its side and rolled in a lazy circle before stopping on an indentation in the old table.

Aramis was aware of the man behind him stepping back, the chisel was taken off his shoulder leaving him no longer threatened.

The mason huffed out a laugh and shook his head. He leaned forward putting himself into Porthos' slightly downcast gaze.

'I hope you have learned from this,' said the mason before slapping Porthos on the back.

Without another word, the men retreated from the storage barn. Aramis watched them go. He knew they were in a quiet corner of a quiet square. It was unlikely they were going to be found. Aramis was reliant on Porthos releasing him. He tried to get his friends' attention, but the gag that had kept him silent up to that point prevented him from enunciating any words clearly.

Porthos looked up, and Aramis pointedly looked at his wrists. Porthos blinked a few times before pushing himself up to stand. He wavered dangerously before taking a few steps around the table. He sank to his knees and started to work on the rope around Aramis' right wrist. Aramis could see that his friend was struggling. He was taking long steady breaths, but the shake in his hands was obvious.

As soon as the rope was loose enough, Aramis slipped his hand free and tugged his gag lose.

He coughed a couple of times before finding his voice, 'do you have any idea what they gave you? What did it taste like? Could you taste it?'

Porthos shook his head and mumbled an apology. He tried to reach across to Aramis' left wrist, but Aramis stopped him.

'I can do it. Can you get my bag? I've got what we need to make you sick. You need to get it out of your system quickly.'

Porthos pulled a face. Aramis glared at him again. Porthos reached behind Aramis and picked up the bag. He dropped it on the table, knocking some of the cups off in the process. Aramis managed to free his left wrist. He grabbed Porthos and guided him to sit on the floor, leaning against the wall.

'I'll be quick.'

'Sorry.'

'I think you've been punished enough,' replied Aramis, who despite his earlier wish to get his revenge now felt sympathy for his friend.

'Are you going to tell anyone?'

Aramis chuckled, 'not likely. We've been grabbed off the streets by a group of masons and held at their mercy. We should not have allowed that to happen. I'm as embarrassed about that as you are.'

Porthos looked up, away from Aramis' hasty work on the emetic.

'Thank you,' he said.

Aramis poured water into the cup of herbs and oil, 'thank me by coming up with a reason for me to have grazes on my wrists from the ropes. Someone is going to notice.'

Porthos looked thoughtful as he reached out for what Aramis knew was a foul-tasting concoction in the cup.

'Did they know you would end up with the poison?' asked Aramis.

Porthos nodded, 'I could tell which ones it was,' he said.

Aramis could not help the confused look on his face. Porthos paused before drinking.

'One of the men behind you indicated that if I didn't drink the ones that were marked, they'd kill you.'

As Porthos forced himself to drink something for the second time that evening Aramis realised how lucky the pair of them had been. He knew his life was under threat but did not know that Porthos had willingly ingested the poison to keep him safe.

'Perhaps I should be thanking you,' he said while steadying his friend as the emetic took effect.

They would slip back into the garrison later and hope that no one ever found out about their adventure that evening. Aramis hoped that Porthos had learned his lesson, at least for a while.

The End.

Whumpee: Porthos. Featuring: Aramis.