Chapter Six
A shout in the distance and an angry reply caused Porthos to stir. He opened his eyes, blinking a few times as the light that filled the room blinded him for a second. The fire was still crackling but had been allowed to die a little. There was enough warmth from the bright sunshine to counter the lessening warmth of the flames.
The argument outside continued for a few seconds before it faded into the distance.
Porthos turned his head, expecting to find Flea lying beside him on the large bed. He was alone. He felt the sheets and found them cold. He wondered how long the Queen of the Court had been gone for. They had fallen asleep in each other's arms the previous night. Porthos was reminded of their time together when he had been a senior member of the Court. Porthos needed to continually remind himself that Flea could no longer be trusted. She was playing a game. Porthos was sure of it. She was involved in Athos' disappearance.
He wondered if Aramis and d'Artagnan had found Athos. They would have been searching for a while. The sun was already high in the sky, and Porthos was sure his friends would not have been able to wait long after the first light to begin their search. He looked at the darker clouds that were fading off in the distance; he guessed there had been rain. He wondered if that had hindered his friend's search. He well remembered finding shelter quickly whenever it rained in his early days alone in the Court. Good shelter was hard to find, if you were one of the street dwellers in the Court.
He pushed the expensive blankets back and reached for his braies and breeches. As he pulled the garments on he glanced around the room. There was no sign of Flea's green dress; he guessed she had dressed and gone about her regal duties. He fleetingly wondered if he might be able to move around unchecked but dismissed the idea. He had to maintain the illusion that he wanted to gain her trust. If he was caught searching, that trust, however much of a lie it was in reality, would be gone.
As he pulled on his boots and reached for his shirt, he heard more voices in the courtyard below. He looked out of the window. Several of Asim's men were gathered around their leader. Asim was giving orders, using his arms expressively. The men were nodding and turning to go, disappearing in different directions, walking purposely. They were searching for something. Or someone.
'Strangers have been seen.'
Porthos turned back from the window to find Flea standing in the doorway looking at him.
'Strangers?'
'Strangers,' she repeated. 'Skulking around, trying to blend in.'
Aramis and d'Artagnan. Porthos schooled his expression.
'I could help search for them,' suggested Porthos. 'Asim probably needs all the help he can get.'
'Asim does not trust you,' said Flea, who had not moved from the doorway.
Porthos walked towards her; she held up her hand to stop his advance.
'If I find out they are anything to do with you -'
'You won't. Because they're not.'
Flea looked at him, her eyes narrow, scrutinising him. Porthos stood his ground.
'Trust me. I don't know anything about it. All I want is to stay here. Let Athos go as a gesture of goodwill. You want to trust me. I want to trust you.'
'Why now? Why have you come back now?'
Porthos was prepared for the question.
'I'd been thinking about it for a while,' he said. 'I've become demoralised. When I first joined the infantry, it was an escape from this place. Then I was asked to join the Musketeers. I felt honoured. But … I'm nothing. I may guard the King. Protect France. But … I had-'
'-so much more before,' Flea finished for him.
Porthos smiled and nodded. He looked down, trying to give the impression of embarrassment. It worked. Flea walked up to him, pulling him into a hug. He hugged her back, holding her close.
'I believe you,' she said.
Porthos thought she sounded sincere. But they were both used to lying. They were both good at it.
'I would rather be your lieutenant than cannon fodder for France.'
'Not my equal.'
Porthos smiled, 'I need to earn my place again,' he said.
'And Athos?'
'The man has saved my life many times. It is the least I can do, as one last act of camaraderie towards my former comrades.'
Flea nodded slowly. Porthos wondered if she believed him.
'I will tell Asim he needs to be released. I suspect, as you do, that he is the one behind the abduction.'
Porthos knew she was lying. He knew she was the one behind the abduction. But to what end. What was it that she wanted? Porthos could not take the risk of confronting her until he knew Athos was safe.
'But,' Flea continued, a dangerous tone filling her voice, 'if I find that the two strangers are soldiers, I cannot guarantee their safety. If they are Musketeers. If they are your friend's here to search, they will be killed.'
Porthos forced himself not to react.
'I told you,' he said flatly, 'I don't know anything about any search.'
'You won't try to stop them being executed if they are caught?'
Porthos shook his head, 'I won't.'
She scrutinised him again. She stared into his eyes for many moments before nodding.
'Good. Now. Join me for breakfast.'
She caught his hand and led him towards the main room with its big table. Porthos followed, his mind whirling as he worried about his three friends. He was sure Flea would not let Athos go so easily. And the chances of Aramis and d'Artagnan getting caught were high. Porthos had to remain on his guard, but for what he did not know. He was at a loss. He could not work out what Flea and Asim's next move would be.
MMMM
D'Artagnan was pleased the two men were following him, leaving Aramis to search for Athos. The two men were pushing their way around the tangle of blanket walls. Looking into each of the makeshift rooms. Their intrusion was causing uproar in the large room. D'Artagnan used the distraction to get further ahead of the men. His luck did not hold for long. A couple of people spotted him and, not recognising him, shouted to the men that the intruder was near the door. D'Artagnan darted out of the doorway, back into the hall. He knew the men were still following him.
He paused for a second by the main door of the building that led back out to the impressive arched walkway at the front. The men reached the hall and looked around. Once they had spotted him, d'Artagnan ran. He gave up on the pretence of being a lowly street dweller; he gave up keeping to the shadows. He stayed out in the open long enough to know he had drawn the men away from Aramis.
The plan had always been for d'Artagnan to cause a distraction if it was needed. But now that he was playing his part, he worried that he would struggle to evade the Court's army. They knew all the shortcuts and potential hiding places. D'Artagnan was at a distinct disadvantage.
He turned into a smaller alleyway and found a recessed doorway to stand in. He was breathing hard and needed to catch his breath. He heard the men run past at the end of the alleyway. He smiled to himself; he had lost his pursuers. At least for a moment. He could not let them lose his trail completely. As long as they were looking for him, they were not searching for Aramis, who might have his hands full rescuing Athos.
D'Artagnan knew he had to keep the men busy. He had to make a nuisance of himself. He grimly began to think through what mischief he could conjure.
Voices further along the alleyway forced him from his hiding place. The pursuit began again.
The light drizzle that had sent people indoors and undercover had stopped, meaning more people were spilling out onto the grimy streets. D'Artagnan swerved around an old man who swore at him and tried to hit him with his walking stick. A couple of women yelled in his direction, and one younger man tried to grab him. D'Artagnan pushed the man away, aware that he had fallen but knowing he could not stop to apologise.
He hurtled along the street. He knew it was not just two members of the Court's army following him. With luck, he could cause enough disruption that Aramis would be left with minimal resistance once he found Athos. If Athos was injured, Aramis might have his hands full helping their friend and not be able to fight off any guards that tried to stop them from getting away.
One thing d'Artagnan did not want to happen was for him to get caught. If he got caught, it would only add to their problems. And he did not want to cause Porthos and Aramis further feelings of guilt. The tension Athos' abduction had caused might have driven lesser men apart. But both his friends had put their issues aside. There had been moments when d'Artagnan worried either of them could do something irresponsible, but they had pulled together to work on a plan to save Athos. The self-recriminations could wait; d'Artagnan knew that they would accept that neither of them was to blame for their current situation; it just might take a while for that to sink in. And in the meantime, d'Artagnan was not about to add to their worry.
He made a quick turn off the main road at the same moment a cart drawn by two horses turned onto the road. The chaos behind him made d'Artagnan smile. He had lost his pursuers for a few minutes. He looked around the small square into which he had run. It was empty, cleaner than the other areas he had been. A door stood open on the other side, leading into a dark room. Cautiously d'Artagnan approached the room and peered in. He nodded to himself as a plan formed in his head.
MMMM
Athos tried to drag himself away. He scrabbled at the stone floor, trying to find some helpful dent in the rock to grab. Pain radiated out from his side and hips where the kicks had been cruelly aimed. His back was throbbing from some injury or other; he could not catalogue them all. He knew the dagger would hit him at any moment; the blade would penetrate his skin and pierce vital organs. He could not get away quickly enough. There was no escape.
But the cold bite of the steel never came.
A huff of breath and the sound of a body hitting the ground behind him gave Athos the incentive to push himself up and twist, painfully, over. His eyes widened in surprise at the scene unfolding in front of him.
One man was lying sprawled on the floor, a short wooden club lying next to him. He was unconscious and probably would be for some time if the already darkening bruise on his temple was anything to go by. The man with the dagger was grappling with someone in the doorway. The pair shifted to the side, revealing the newcomer to be Aramis, dressed in ragged, ill-fitting clothes.
Athos watched as Aramis struggled to push the dagger away. The man wielding the weapon was of a similar build to Aramis. The pair were evenly matched in their fight. Athos knew he could help to push the odds in Aramis' favour. Athos pushed himself up to sit. He hissed as whatever injury he had to his back was agitated. There was no time to give in to the pain. He had to help his friend. It would surely only be a matter of seconds before the thug shouted for help.
He reached out for the discarded club. He guessed Aramis had used it to strike the unconscious man but lost the weapon in the struggle with the other man. Getting to his feet proved harder than he had expected. Well placed kicks had left Athos uncomfortable he pushed the pain away and, using the wall for support, hauled himself up. His eyes were on the fighting men the entire time. Aramis had ended up pinned against the wall just inside the door; his attention focused on the man with the dagger. The blade was precariously close to Aramis' throat. The Musketeer was in no position to act offensively; all he could do was stop the other man from stabbing him in the neck.
Athos swung the club, hitting the man on the side of the head, sending him crashing to the ground. Aramis was pulled down with the man ending up underneath the now unconscious guard. Aramis was still for several seconds causing Athos to worry he had caused his friend more harm than good with his help. A gasped cough made Athos sigh with relief and stepped forward to pull the guard off Aramis.
'Not sure who's rescuing who,' said Aramis breathlessly.
'It is me that requires rescuing,' replied Athos, holding out his hand to his friend. 'They were about to kill me. I do not seem to hold the value I perhaps did when I was first taken. I am guessing that is your doing?'
Aramis nodded as he accepted the help to get to his feet. They both took a moment to steady themselves before Aramis started to look him over with a critical medic's eye.
'You were lucky,' said Aramis, 'that slash across your back doesn't look too deep.'
Athos furrowed his brow and shook his head, not understanding.
'He slashed you with the knife, across your back,' said Aramis.
'That explains the pain,' muttered Athos. 'I was unaware. I was more concerned they were going to stab me.'
'That would have been unfortunate, considering the effort we've all put into rescuing you.'
'Porthos?'
'Pretending he wants to come back here and asking for your release as a last act of chivalry.'
Athos shook his head, 'he's walking into a trap. Flea was behind this.'
Aramis, who was pulling the doublet off one of the unconscious men, stopped and looked up sharply.
'We suspected it was a trap. But Porthos was not sure if she was involved.'
'They mean to kill him. And you, if they get the chance.'
'We need reinforcements. I think we can justify coming in here en masse,' said Aramis. 'The Captain and some of the other men are waiting outside for us. They're the last resort if we couldn't get you out by stealth. But this changes it. Porthos won't know they intend to kill him. He knew it would be dangerous and that he'd have to be careful but-'
'I agree,' said Athos, as he allowed Aramis to help him into the stolen doublet. 'We cannot take them on ourselves.'
Athos pulled the doublet over his shoulders and buttoned it up, he could feel the wound on his back pulling by the action, but there was little they could do about it at that moment. The sooner they could get out. All of them. The better.
'Is d'Artagnan with you?'
Aramis nodded with a grin, 'causing chaos somewhere. He knows to get out if he draws too many of them after him. He is a distraction so that I could liberate you.'
'He appears to have done the job,' remarked Athos. 'I am surprised that no one has come to find these two.'
He gestured at the unconscious men. Aramis shrugged.
'Let's take advantage of it and get out whilst we can. Then we can concentrate on getting Porthos out as well.'
Athos followed Aramis from the room but paused in the doorway as a wave of nausea caused him to grab the edge of the door to steady himself. Aramis turned back and sighed.
'Sorry,' Aramis said. 'How bad is it?'
'Bad enough that I will not be helping with any fighting for a few hours.'
'I only saw the end of their attack on you,' Aramis said.
'Leave me, I will make my way out. Get word to Treville that Porthos is in danger.'
Aramis shook his head, 'the only reason Porthos let d'Artagnan and me come, was so that we could rescue you whilst he distracted Flea and Asim. He was not keen to let me near the place. If I don't leave with you, I don't think he'll ever talk to me again. I'm not leaving you.'
Athos was forced to accept his friend's support as they made their way out of the cell.
'I hope neither of you is blaming yourselves for this.'
Aramis did not respond.
Athos shook his head, 'I will be fine. You have nothing to be guilty about.'
'You've been abducted and attacked.'
'You saved me. And Porthos is still saving me.'
Aramis was quiet for a few seconds before responding.
'In that case, let me get you out of here. You're not completely saved yet.'
Athos conceded the point. They continued along the dank corridor outside his cell. Athos would thank all his friends properly when they were all safe and away from the hellish place that was causing them all problems.
MMMM
