Chapter One
Aramis nudged Athos and nodded towards the two young men who were looking at the comely woman leaning on the wall of a building they knew housed a brothel. The men, who looked like travellers, were about to enter the building when a third, older man, approached. He slapped the two young men and wagged a finger at the young woman who pouted for a few seconds before moving off to find some other unsuspecting innocent young man. The older man marched off with the two young men in tow. They could hear the older man berating his travelling companions as they made their way further along the street.
Aramis watched the corner of Athos' mouth quirk into a half-smile.
'They will learn soon enough what life is like in the city,' mused Athos.
Aramis chuckled, 'I remember almost being beguiled by women like her when I was their age.'
'I can well imagine,' replied Athos, without looking at Aramis.
They continued on their way through the marketplaces and along the streets where the artisan bakeries filled the air with the smells of fresh bread. A welcome change to the stench of some of the seedier areas their patrol would take them.
Recent rains had washed away the worst of the detritus, but, Aramis knew, it would build up again. The rain left puddles along the streets where feral dogs gathered to drink their fill, and occasionally street children scooped at the rancid water with grubby hands. Aramis shook his head as he watched one of the bakers shooing the children away in the same way he did the dogs.
'We cannot save them all,' said Athos, with compassion.
Aramis nodded, 'that does not make it easier to watch though.'
They continued on their way. Aramis tried to lighten the mood with talk of where they might eat that evening. Athos expressed a wish to return to the same tavern they had used a couple of nights before due to the good food that was served. Aramis suspected the food was not the only reason Athos was keen to return. The wine was cheap, and the service was good; two things that were probably more alluring to the man who often liked to take himself off to a corner to brood alone with a couple of bottles.
A right turn into a quieter street was welcome after the hustle of the main road. The constant need to dodge carriages and puddles was distracting when they were supposed to be watching the populous for anything suspicious.
Athos looked around for a few seconds, 'there are usually a few homeless people along here,' he remarked. 'I do not think the rain would have been enough to make them move.'
Aramis nodded; the emptiness of the street was odd. Ever alert, they walked a few paces into the street. Buildings towered above them on either side, a few small windows overlooked the street, and one or two doors opened onto it, but there were no people walking through or loitering.
The attack, which Aramis was not entirely surprised by, was swift and well organised. Despite being in the process of pulling his gun from its holster, Aramis was not quick enough. He was grabbed by several men and shoved firmly into the wall of one of those towering buildings.
He managed to look around, searching for Athos. Aramis was shocked to see his friend being dragged out of sight by another group of men.
Aramis struggled against his assailants. He managed to yank one arm free of the men who were grabbing him and struck out. He only succeeded in pushing one man back a few paces before he was grabbed again and shoved back into the wall. The weight of the men pushing into him left him struggling to breathe. Something hit him on the side of the head leaving him stunned for several seconds. As he regained his senses, Aramis became aware of his weapons being pulled off him. His belts were undone, and his pockets rifled through.
'Listen to me,' said a rough voice in his ear.
The voice was accented, as though French was not the man's mother tongue, although he spoke it well.
'What have we-'
Aramis' protest was cut short by another punch to the side of the head that left him confused for a few seconds.
'You are the reason we are taking your friend. You need to learn what it is to lose someone. You killed our leader. You murdered Charon.'
The confusion in Aramis' reeling mind settled for a few seconds as he took in the foreign man's words.
'But … I …'
'No,' said the man, his mouth close to Aramis' ear. 'There is nothing you can do to save your friend.'
'No … I-'
An explosion of pain prevented Aramis from making any further response. The last thing he thought, as the darkness took him, was to wonder what was to become of Athos.
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D'Artagnan held out his hand to the horse, who did not hesitate in wrapping his lips around the offered piece of apple. With a snort of thanks, the beast chomped on the fruit as d'Artagnan went back to helping the stable boy to brush the horse down.
'Serge tells us off if we take fruit for the horses,' said the boy.
D'Artagnan smirked, 'you need to learn to swipe it when he's not looking.'
D'Artagnan winked at the lad who laughed.
They continued with their work, d'Artagnan liked the repetitive task, it reminded him of the years on his farm with his parents. Tending to the animals and learning all that he could from his father. Happy times that he thought of fondly.
He was snapped from his reverie by a shout from the garrison gate. Simon, the cadet who was watching the gate, rushed into the yard looking around. His expression was one of shock. When he saw d'Artagnan he gestured to the Musketeer to follow him. Intrigued, d'Artagnan handed the brush to the stable boy and walked towards the gate.
As the entranceway came fully into view, he saw what had caused the cadet to react. Aramis was lying on the ground. He was unconscious, his clothes were dishevelled, and he was missing his weapons.
'What happened?' asked d'Artagnan, as he crouched by his friend.
Simon did not respond. D'Artagnan looked up to find the young man shifting awkwardly, a guilty expression on his face.
'Well?' said d'Artagnan with irritation at the lack of an answer.
'I don't know,' said Simon. 'I'd gone to see if there was any food leftover from lunch.'
'You abandoned your post?'
Simon looked away; the guilt clear in his expression. D'Artagnan tutted before returning his attention to Aramis, who was showing no signs of coming around.
'Help me get him to the infirmary.'
Between them, they lifted the unconscious man and carried him towards the garrison infirmary. The stable boy rushed ahead of them and held the door open.
'Find the Captain,' instructed d'Artagnan.
The stable boy nodded and scurried off to carry out his task.
The infirmary was empty; Aramis was to be the only occupant. The airy room was kept ready for the inevitable injuries incurred during training and sparring sessions. Beds were arranged along one wall with space for more if necessary. A large table was situated closer to the windows that could be used to treat a patient.
They lay Aramis on one of the beds. D'Artagnan undid his friend's doublet, pushing the garment aside as he searched for any injuries. After pulling his shirt loose, d'Artagnan found many blossoming bruises across Aramis' torso. His friend had been beaten and taken a few knocks to the head.
D'Artagnan tried to remember which patrol Aramis had been given that morning and who he had been partnered with.
'What happened?'
D'Artagnan glanced around to find Treville standing in the doorway. The Captain strode forward and looked Aramis over for a few seconds before looking at d'Artagnan.
'He was left at the garrison gate like this,' d'Artagnan informed him.
'Left by whom?'
'We don't know.'
'What do you mean you don't know?'
Treville's inquiring gaze shifted to Simon who took a step back from the bed and answered quietly.
'I left the gate unguarded for a few minutes. When I returned he was there. I didn't see who left him, or how he got there.'
Treville took a couple of steps towards the contrite looking cadet.
'I'll deal with you later,' said Treville. 'Perhaps you'd better get back to your post now.'
Simon did not need telling twice. He swiftly left the room, not looking back.
Treville leaned over Aramis and looked him over with a critical eye.
'It looks as though he's been beaten. Any sign of Athos? They were patrolling together.'
D'Artagnan shook his head, 'the first I knew about it was Simon telling me he'd been left in the gateway. I think he must have been unconscious and dumped there.'
Treville nodded, 'get him cleaned up. Hopefully, he can shed some light on what has happened. I'll send a couple of men to walk the route they should have taken.'
D'Artagnan nodded and returned his attention to his friend.
He slowly stripped Aramis of his outer clothing, sighing as more bruises were revealed. There was nothing that would cause him any issues, but he would be uncomfortable as the bruises came out. There were a few grazes to his cheek that did not take long to clean up. All the while d'Artagnan wondered what had happened, and what had happened to Athos.
Treville returned with Porthos in tow.
'Has he woken up yet?' asked Pothos, as he walked up to the bed where Aramis lay.
D'Artagnan shook his head.
Porthos leaned over his friend, resting his hands on Aramis' shoulders. He shook the unconscious Musketeer a couple of times but was not rewarded with any reaction.
'He's been knocked about a bit,' said d'Artagnan, 'he might not wake for a while yet.'
Porthos scowled, 'we need him awake. He needs to tell us what happened, and what happened to Athos.'
Treville nodded his agreement, 'has he shown any signs of coming around?'
Again, d'Artagnan shook his head. He watched Porthos straighten up, the concern etched deeply on his face.
'Have either of them, or either of you, picked up any new enemies in the last few days?' asked Treville. 'I know this could be a random attack, but it might be specific.'
D'Artagnan sighed, 'not that I can think of. There's not been any other attacks on soldiers recently, have there?'
The Captain shook his head, 'not that I have heard of from the other garrisons. I think there was a brief fight between a couple of our cadets and some Red Guard a few days ago, but nothing that has been officially reported to me, or Richelieu. Nothing unusual.'
D'Artagnan knew the general animosity between the two garrisons often led to minor skirmishes. No one was ever badly hurt, and generally, it did not need the officers to intervene. What had happened to Aramis was more serious than those incidents. And the fact that Athos was missing implied something more sinister was happening.
'He's waking up,' said Porthos, who had been watching his friend intently.
They waited for a few moments, watching as Aramis' eyes twitched and moved under the lids before he slowly blinked them open. He stared at nothing for several long seconds before he gasped and tried to sit up. Porthos was quick to grab Aramis and push him back down. But Aramis was worked up, an unusual strength to his movements. He tried to twist away from Porthos' grasp. Porthos reacted fast, forcing Aramis down, pinning him to the bed and putting himself in Aramis' line of sight.
'Calm down,' said Porthos with authority. 'You're safe. You're back at the garrison.'
Aramis continued to struggle for a few seconds, his breathing fast. He tried to push Porthos off him as he wildly looked around. But Porthos remained where he was, steadfastly holding his friend down to prevent him from hurting himself.
'Athos?'
The one word caused d'Artagnan to look away, unable to hide the worry anymore. If Aramis was asking where Athos was, it implied he did not know what had happened. D'Artagnan turned back as Treville stepped forward.
'Aramis,' said the Captain, easing Porthos back a step at the same time. 'Can you remember what happened?'
Porthos slowly released his friend but kept one hand on his shoulder, anchoring him, letting him know that he was safe.
Aramis, how brow furrowed, stared into the distance. D'Artagnan guessed the injured man was remembering what had happened, perhaps trying to put fractured images into a sequence. Finding order in the chaos of his mind.
'Athos!'
Aramis pushed himself up to sit again. Both the Captain and Porthos had to grab him. Aramis was reaching forward with both hands, his eyes unfocused.
'Athos is not here, Aramis,' said Treville firmly.
It took Aramis another few moments to calm his breathing and refocus.
'They took him.'
Treville shook his head, 'who took him? Aramis, what happened?'
'It's my fault,' said Aramis, who was still staring into the distance. 'I caused this.'
'Caused what? Aramis, where is Athos?' said Treville, who resorted to shaking his Musketeer to get him to acknowledge him.
'Charon,' said Aramis. 'They wanted revenge.'
It was Porthos' turn to get Aramis' attention, 'revenge?'
Aramis stared at Porthos for a few seconds.
'I killed him,' said Aramis. 'I killed Charon … they want to punish me by killing Athos.'
'What!'
Porthos released his friend and straightened up; he looked down at Aramis for a second before turning to walk from the room.
'Where are you going?' demanded Treville. 'Porthos.'
Porthos had reached the door; he paused, 'this is my fault.'
'No, Porthos,' said Treville, 'this is no one's fault.'
Porthos reached for the door handle, he pulled the door open. Treville moved quickly to grab Porthos who tried to shake the Captain off. D'Artagnan helped to pull Porthos back a few paces. The pair stood in front of him. Treville had one hand on Porthos' chest, a stern expression on his face.
'You do not live there anymore, Porthos,' said Treville. 'You've left that life.'
'But-'
'No,' said Treville. 'What happened in the Court. It was not either of your faults. You explained to me how their leader came to die. Porthos, he was trying to kill you. Aramis, you acted on instinct to save a brother soldier.'
The Captain looked at each man in turn as he spoke. Both of them were still worked up; Porthos looked as though he was struggling to stop himself from pushing his Captain aside and leaving.
D'Artagnan knew the events following Porthos' arrest and sentence to hang were something that still haunted him. Being rescued by members of the Court of Miracles, where Porthos had once held a senior position, was fortuitous, but the events that followed had been difficult for him. The leader of the Court had encouraged Porthos to return to his old life before turning on him. Charon, who had once been like a brother to Porthos, tried to stab Porthos in the back. The attempted murder was only thwarted by their timely arrival and Aramis' quick thinking to strike first. Porthos had made it clear that he held no grudge against Aramis for killing Charon. Aramis had saved Porthos' life.
But now, it seemed those events were back to haunt them. The people of the Court of Miracles, a kingdom within a kingdom, were out for revenge. And in some twisted ploy they were punishing Aramis for the death of their leader, by taking one of his friends from him.
Porthos looked back at Aramis.
'This ain't your fault,' he said.
Aramis did not look as though he agreed.
Porthos made an effort to calm down. He stepped back from Treville and d'Artagnan, who remained where they were blocking the doorway. It was not until Porthos moved back to Aramis' side that they relaxed. The last thing they needed was for a worked up Porthos to go charging off into the Court of Miracles and get himself hurt, or worse.
'Tell us everything you remember,' said Porthos to Aramis, as he grabbed a chair and sat by his injured friend.
Aramis took a moment to gather his thoughts.
'There were a lot of them. They'd cleared the street so that they could attack us. They knew which way we were going to go.'
'You weren't aware of them watching you?' asked d'Artagnan.
Aramis shook his head, 'the main road was busy, there were a lot of people about after that downpour.'
Porthos was nodding, 'they'd have been planning this for a while, waiting for the right moment. It wouldn't have taken much to make sure you were alone when you were attacked. People are easily bought.'
'I saw them dragging Athos off. One of them was foreign - I didn't recognise his accent, but he looked like he was from Persia or Northern Africa. He said they were taking him to punish me.'
'Did they actually say they were going to kill him?'
Porthos had posed the question. Aramis stared at him blankly for a few seconds before shaking his head.
'No, he just said they wanted me to know what it felt like to lose someone.'
Porthos leaned back in his chair, 'he's still alive-'
'You don't know that,' interjected Treville.
'But we can hope,' said d'Artagnan, who was inclined to agree with Porthos.
The thought that Athos was dead was not one he wanted to entertain. Even if the odds were against him.
Treville was silent for a few seconds before speaking again.
'We need to know if he's still alive.'
Porthos nodded, 'I have to go there. I'm the only one of us that can go there and not be attacked on sight,' he glanced at Aramis. 'I've never told you … but you made enemies that day. I spoke to Flea a few weeks after, when it had all settled down-'
'You never told us,' said d'Artagnan.
Porthos shrugged, 'I didn't think it was necessary,' he said. 'Flea told me that there were some amongst them that wanted to hunt you down and kill you.'
Aramis looked annoyed, 'and you thought I didn't need to know that?'
'Flea told me she'd reminded them who was in charge and said that if anything happened to you, those responsible would be cast out of the Court to fend for themselves.'
D'Artagnan sensed the tension between Porthos and Aramis, he hoped it would not cause the pair issues whilst they searched for Athos.
'I suppose you were right not to say anything,' said Aramis with irritation. 'It does sound as though you thought there was no need.'
'So you think that Flea will not know about this attack?' asked d'Artagnan.
Porthos shook his head, 'she may not have known it was going to happen, but she probably knows it has happened. She might even know where he was taken.'
'You're right, Porthos, you need to get an idea of what is going on,' said Treville, 'find out what you can and report back. Do not try to liberate him on your own. You may have been in a position of authority there once, but you are not now. You are probably considered the enemy to a lot of the residents. You are in the employ of the King after all.'
Porthos rose from his seat and walked from the room without looking back.
'Where do you think you're going?' Treville said, looking at Aramis who was halfway out of bed.
'I'm going with him. I'll wait outside the court. I know I can't go in there … but I can't stay here-'
'You can, and you will,' said Treville. 'You were attacked and injured, you need to rest for a few hours-'
'I'm fine-'
'Aramis,' said Treville in a no-nonsense tone, 'you will stay in the infirmary until I say you can leave.'
The Captain turned to d'Artagnan.
'You will ensure he does not leave.'
D'Artagnan nodded. He understood the unspoken order. He was being confined to the garrison in much the same way as Aramis was being confined to bed. Treville did not want either of them rushing off in an ill-informed attempt to rescue Athos. They had to wait for Porthos to return.
Treville glared at Aramis, who reluctantly settled back on the bed. D'Artagnan took his place next to Aramis. They were both in for an anxious wait.
The Captain left them. D'Artagnan watched him beckoning Barbotin and Marc over from the table across the yard. The pair of Musketeers listened intently to their Captain; glancing in the direction of the infirmary a couple of times. They nodded and returned to the table, both sitting on the opposite side so that they had a good view of the infirmary door. D'Artagnan knew they had been told to stop either himself or Aramis from leaving the garrison.
He understood why they were confined to the garrison. Aramis was still recovering from the attack and neither of them would be of any help to Porthos whilst he carried out his reconnaissance. D'Artagnan could only hope that Porthos turned up some useful information and that they would be in time to save Athos.
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