Chapter 18
Aramis was deep in thought as he rode away from the monastery. He was unsure what unsettled him most, Athos' refusal to stay where he was, or the suggestion that someone wanted to unearth the man Athos tried so hard to hide; neither scenario bode well.
He was debating which problem to deal with first, when there was a sudden flurry of movement in front of him, followed by a high-pitched cry of alarm. His horse reared, but used to the chaos of battle, managed to avoid trampling the cringing bundle of silk and lace beneath its hooves.
Aramis was down from his seat in seconds, hurrying to the inert figure before him. A small crowd had gathered but they stood back to let the Musketeer pass. He bent to the woman, for her clothing made it quite clear the figure was female, and from the nature of those garments, a woman of means.
'Madame, are you alright, are you hurt?' He attempted to lift the hood of her cape to see if there were injuries beneath. Simultaneously, the women made some effort to right herself before swooning once more. Aramis scooped up the prostrate female and stood for a moment with her in his arms, unsure what to do next. With a swift movement he had her atop his horse and swung up behind her.
'Madame, tell me where to take you, for I fear the garrison would not be suitable. Even though I could treat you in the infirmary, it is not fitting for a lady such as yourself.'
The woman began to move and made small moans as if she were returning to consciousness.
'Could it possibly be?' she stated in a small voice filled with hope. 'Is that Monsieur Aramis?' She managed to tilt her head, just enough for him to see her face, all pale cheeks and dark lashes. Her honey blonde tresses were torn from their pins and artfully curling around her face and shoulders – Aramis would have been amazed had he realised that such careful dissembling was already in place beneath the velvet hood before his horse had even ridden into view.
The revelation beneath that hood rendered the Musketeer speechless for a moment, Madame Anjou is that you?'
Suzanne smiled and attempted to lift her hand, only to let it drop back in her lap as she leant more heavily against the Musketeer's chest. 'Indeed, how grateful I am that it was you, Aramis, who rode that horse. Please take me home.' She managed to whisper directions to her apartments within the grounds of the Louvre, and as they came to a stop before the ornate building, Aramis lifted her down. Before he had the opportunity to summon assistance, an elderly woman opened the door.
'What have you done with my mistress?' The woman stood scowling hands on hips and Aramis attempted a bow, though with Suzanne in his arms, it was impossible.
'I am afraid your mistress fell in front of my horse. If you would allow me to carry her inside, I will assess her injuries,' the Musketeer explained.
The woman huffed. 'You can bring her in, but if there is any assessing to do, I will do it myself. What a liberty,' she added to herself.
Aramis smiled and carried Suzanne into the room indicated by the maid. He lay her on the sofa and stood back whilst the older woman bustled him to one side.
'We thank you for your assistance, sir, but I can take things from here thank you.' Her tone was short, and Aramis had really no choice but to take his leave. However, Suzanne had other ideas.
'Please, Betsy, let me speak with Monsieur Aramis before he leaves.' Betsy sniffed, her disapproval clear, but she moved aside just enough for Aramis to approach.
Suzanne whispered so that Aramis had to kneel at her side to hear what she said. 'Monsieur, thank you for your kindness, please do not think too badly of Betsy, she takes very good care of me. I cannot help but think it was fate that placed me beneath the hooves of your mount. If it is not too bold of me, would you be so kind as to visit me tomorrow evening, so I might thank you properly?' She gazed out from beneath honeyed lashes and Aramis was hooked.
'Indeed my lady, I would be honoured.' He rose and gave both ladies a courtly bow.
'Supper,' Suzanne smiled.
'Until tomorrow, Betsy.' Aramis gave the older woman his most charming smile, but it hardly thawed the ice. Still, with a spring in his gait, he sauntered from the room and rode back to the garrison with a lighter heart.
ooOoo
Athos still sat beneath the dappled tree, eyes closed, and the sun, though past its summer glory, still managed to warm his face. He was just reflecting on his conversation with Aramis when there was an almighty banging at the door of the courtyard. Despite the monastery welcoming in all those that sought entry to the outer enclave, the inner sanctum was closed, so as to offer protection to the Brothers within. Athos immediately stiffened. He had been here for several days now, and he had never heard anyone knock upon the inner door, not even gently.
He was ashamed to admit he had become settled, and the threat from outside had dwindled to a mere suspicion, but the continued knocking revived all of his natural instincts.
Though his ribs screamed at him to show mercy, battle mode overrode any awareness; though he felt the pain, he ignored it. The Brothers within the courtyard had frozen in place, another sign that the violent banging was both unusual and unexpected. As Brother Matthew began to make his way hesitantly toward the door, Athos looked around to see if there were any more experienced monks to assist the young man, but those who stood stunned appeared to be either even younger or too ancient to be of assistance.
What Aramis had failed to notice was the dagger secreted at Athos' back; perhaps he had not been quite as complacent as he had accused himself of being. With little choice and the continued hammering, Athos moved toward the doorway to join the young Brother. As they came together a couple of yards from the vibrating structure, Brother Matthew turned to take in the vision that was the pale-faced Musketeer brandishing an evil looking knife. Athos gave the young man a sideways look and raised a brow. 'I thought you might want some company,' the swordsman drawled.
The Brother gulped but managed a small nod of his head, his concentration centred on the menacing looking knife. As they reached the door, shouting now accompanied the renewed battering. 'Open up in the name of the King!' Athos and the young Brother exchanged a look and Athos nodded. Brother Matthew opened the small grille in the door to speak to whoever was on the other side.
His voice trembled. 'I am Brother Matthew, to whom am I speaking?'
'Captain Giroux of the Red Guard. You are harbouring a murderer and I demand you hand him over.' Brother Matthew's eyes darted to the Musketeer by his side, biting his lower lip as he made his decision. He knew the rumours, but during the time he had cared for the injured man he had experienced no sense of evil, only sadness. Taking a deep breath he gave his reply.
'We have no such person here, Captain, only a man who suffered terrible injuries at the hands of your men. He has requested sanctuary, as is his right. We cannot hand him over.' The young Brother took strength from the truth of the statement. A man begging sanctuary should not be denied, and though it was an old and somewhat controversial law, the Brothers still took the request very seriously.
'You no longer have the right to uphold such antiquated views, the man is a killer,' Giroux hissed.
'Do you have definitive proof of his guilt Captain? Remember you are on hallowed ground before you answer.' It was a masterful response and Athos gave the faintest of smiles.
'We will find it,' Giroux growled.
'Then when you do I suggest you return and show your proof to Père Josef.' Whether it was the priest's name, or the dilemma of not being able to provide the requested proof, Giroux spat in frustration.
'I will be back, Brother, and you had better tell Athos to be ready, for he will not hide behind your skirts much longer.' With that, he turned on his heel and led his men away from the door.
Athos let out the breath he had been holding and allowed himself to sag against the warm wooden door. Aware of the knife in his hand he secreted it within the waistband of his breeches once more. He placed a hand on the young Brother's shoulder and patted the shaking man.
'That was well done, Brother Matthew, I thank you for your mercy. I will not be here much longer, it is time I removed myself to the garrison. My friends will come for me the day after tomorrow.' The news was greeted with a measure of relief by the young man, but the aftermath of the experience was just beginning to take effect. Just as well that Brother Bernard was making his way toward them.
'What ever has occurred?' he asked both parties, eyeing Athos with some measure of suspicion.
'It appears the Red Guard's patience is waning, and they desperately seek my company,' Athos explained. 'However, Brother Matthew handled himself with great decorum, though I think he may need some refreshment.' The infirmarian glanced at the young man, taking in his ashen expression and his shaking hands.
'Brother Ignatius, take Brother Matthew inside and give him a restorative, if you please.' The older monk scurried over and steered the rather bewildered young man away from the doorway.
'He was very brave,' Athos stated simply.
Brother Bernard scowled at the Musketeer. 'He should not have to be,' the older man stated categorically.
'Really? In times such as these? I would have thought an order like yours would be no stranger to violent retaliation.' The older man's demeanour relaxed a little.
'We do not hide ourselves away and enjoy our sheltered lives, our doors are always open, and we do what we can for the city, both economically and pastorally. We have felt no danger – until now.'
Athos sighed, his ribs ached and his head was well on its way too; what he would not give for a glass of wine. 'Well, you will be pleased to know I will be returning to the garrison the day after tomorrow. You will not be subjected to further risks.' He offered the Brother a smile, but it was more of a grimace.
Brother Barnard tried to sound angry, but he could not quite pull it off. 'You should not have walked this distance; in fact I am not sure how you did.' He offered his arm and Athos took it; without it he may just collapse in a heap at the man's feet, and that would hurt – in many ways.
'I did not see anyone else rushing to support the Brother.' Athos drawled.
'We were in a meeting. I suppose I should thank you, though I am not sure what you thought you could do.' Athos was glad the man was unaware of the knife on his person, but suspected it would not remain a secret for long, once Brother Matthew regained his senses.
'You would be surprised,' Athos muttered. 'I do not suppose there would be any restorative for me?' he asked innocently enough.
Brother Bernard paused for a second, helping Athos back into his seat. 'I will see what I can do.' This time there was a slight softening in his voice, but Athos wondered how long that would last.
As he had accurately anticipated, his respite did not last long. As he watched the infirmarian striding toward him with purpose he sighed and awaited his fate. Brother Barnard stopped a few feet away from Athos' table and glared at the Musketeer. Though he stood perfectly still, his body seemed to vibrate with fury.
'You are armed!' he stated, voice calm but filled with ice. 'You dare carry a weapon within these walls, here where God resides.' His dark eyes burned into Athos.
'Where was God, when Brother Matthew needed help? Would God have held back the soldiers if they had broken through the door?' Athos managed to rise, so angry he did not feel the stabbing pain. The two men glared at each other, both refusing to back down.
'God manifests his power in his own way. He gave Brother Matthew inner strength; he did not need to arm him with a weapon of destruction,' the older man hissed.
'Excellent, then next time you have to make a journey to another district, I suggest you ask God to manifest some more of that inner strength and save Musketeers risking their lives to protect you with those same distasteful weapons.' Athos hated the self-righteousness of religion. Just how many escorts had his brothers provided to such journeys, and how many had died for the cause over the history of the regiment? Inner strength. Neither man was prepared to back down, and neither noted the arrival of Père Joseph.
'Monsieur, Brother Bernard. I believe, this is yours,' he said, passing the steaming cup to Athos, who reluctantly broke eye contact with the infirmarian and took the drink. 'Brother Bernard, perhaps you would visit Brother Matthew, he appears a little overwrought.' The man gave Athos a final accusing stare before turning back to the refectory.
Athos sank into his chair and regulated his breathing before taking a deep draught of the warming wine.
The priest sat in silence, allowing Athos to drink. Eventually he broke the silence. 'You have to understand, Athos, you represent everything these men fear. They see only a small glimpse of the outside world within these walls. Perhaps some of our older brethren have more understanding, but for young men like Brother Matthew this is the world as they know it.'
Athos had calmed but he still resented the infirmarian's reaction. 'I am no threat to the Brothers, I do not represent evil, Father, I represent necessity.'
The older man shook his head in understanding. 'That is why they fear you so. That men like you exist beyond our walls only serves as a reminder of the damage men do unto each other. He wasn't reacting to you as a man, but to everything your existence represents.'
Athos exhaled a long breath, and the last of his anger expelled with it. 'I will not be with you much longer. Aramis is bringing my horse the day after tomorrow and the Brothers will be able to resume their ordered life once more.'
'Why did you become a Musketeer? I cannot help but feel there is conflict somewhere in your chosen role.' The question took Athos completely by surprise, though he supposed the enquiry was not out of the ordinary. However, he had never been asked the question before and he had never thought to prepare a suitable reply. Did he tell the truth? The tale of a wandering drunk who fell beneath the horse of the Captain of the Musketeers, or did he begin a lie he would have to keep up for who knew how long? The silence lingered and its length only accentuated Athos' dilemma, but Père Joseph did not release him from his query. He simply sat, hands clasped, waiting for a response.
Finally Athos spoke. 'I had lost my way, there was an accident and Captain Treville saw to my injuries. He noted my skill with a sword and offered me the post of sword master to the regiment.' He gave a Gallic shrug as if to say the rest was public knowledge. It was succinctly put and Aramis and Porthos would have smiled at their friend's skill at summarising a story into a sentence.
If the priest suspected there was more to the tale, he did not pry. 'Captain Treville is a fair and shrewd man. I will not suggest God placed you in his way, for I know you would not believe it. However, there are forces at work in our lives that we can only wonder at.
'As for your rank, I believe the King bestowed it upon you for saving his life – twice I believe – so France is grateful.' Though the man smiled, Athos was not so sure his words had not been laced with a slight trace of humour. As Father Joseph shook out his robe and stood, he looked at the sunny courtyard and the Brothers quietly going about their business.
'I do not suppose asking you to stay, just until you are well enough to ride a horse, would change your plans?' he asked, smiling down at the Musketeer.
'I am afraid not, Father. I thank you and the Brothers for the care you have given me, but I think everyone would breathe more easily if I were no longer under your roof.' The priest nodded his head in understanding, but let the matter lie. Instead, he straightened his shoulders, making his way back inside the bastion of virtue, and Athos was alone once more.
ooOoo
Aramis and Porthos, leading Roger, arrived early on the second day, as Athos had demanded.
Aramis smiled up at the towering edifice with a contented smile upon his face. The weather was milder than it had been in recent days and the late autumn sun mellowed the hallowed stone.
'Let's 'ope you'll still be smilin' when you watch 'im get on 'is 'orse,' Porthos growled. Though delighted to hear Athos was well enough to be making his usual demands, he did not agree with him returning to the garrison – at least not astride a horse!
Aramis continued to smile. 'The sun is shining, it is a beautiful day, do not be so negative, mon amis,' the marksman sallied.
'It's goin' to take more than sunshine to make 'is journey comfortable,' the big Musketeer muttered.
'Well please do not let me stop you from attempting to talk him out of it,' Aramis chuckled, swinging down from his horse.
'What's the matter with you anyway? You 'aven't stopped smilin' all mornin'. Wouldn't 'ave anythin' to do with the fact you disappeared after the inn last night, would it?' Porthos' eyes narrowed but Aramis knew he was teasing.
'I do not know what you are talking about, I merely had supper with a friend,' Aramis proffered, feigning innocence.
'Yeah, and I suppose the friend was not unattractive and female?' Porthos scoffed, as he followed his friend through the wooden gates toward the inner sanctum. Neither man would have been smiling if they had been here a couple of hours earlier to witness Athos' preparations for departure.
'It is no use glaring at those ribs Athos, they are damaged, and they are letting you know how put out they are at your expecting them to behave normally,' the infirmarian raged.
'I am not glaring at them, I am merely concentrating,' Athos responded, his voice low and menacing.
'Well call it what you will, but if you were not in so much pain you would not have to concentrate at all, now would you?' Brother Barnard concluded with a note of triumph.
'Just bind them tight,' came the clipped order.
'Very well, as you wish.' Athos hissed as the infirmarian was as good as his word. The bandages certainly kept the injured bones in place, but Athos began to doubt his lungs would actually have room to inflate.
When he was finished Brother Barnard took a step backward. 'Not too tight are they?' He smiled benignly and ignored the scathing look the remark induced.
'Not at all, thank you.' The two would probably have continued in a similar vein had Brother Barnard not been overtaken by his Christian responsibilities.
'You are not being brave you know, just idiotic, but if you insist on leaving and riding a horse, then at least drink this.' He held out a flask he had produced from the folds of his gown. 'Do not worry, you will not fall off your horse, not from anything I have done anyway. I have no intention of patching you up again, but it might just take the edge off your agony.' He dwelt on his prognosis just a little too warmly, but Athos took the flask anyway, draining the liquid and nodding his thanks.
There was a timid knock on the door, and Brother Matthew's beatific face appeared announcing Aramis and Porthos' arrival.
Athos seemed to deliberate for a moment before pulling on his jacket, the action made more difficult by the limited amount of movement the bandages gave him, but he noted the pain was much less than it would have been without them. He was glad he had thought to put his boots on first, as he very much doubted he would have been able to manage the task now that Brother Barnard had made his point. Athos walked to the small table and scooped up his weapons belt and, fastening it securely, he began to feel more himself. Without further comment he opened the door and walked out toward the courtyard and the waiting Musketeers.
Brother Barnard strode behind him, but of Father Josef there was no sign.
In spite of their concerns, both men smiled at the sight of their friend upright and walking. Athos drew closer and Porthos took a couple of steps forward, but some flickering emotion behind the swordsman's eyes caused Aramis to greet him first, keeping his hand on Porthos' shoulder until they reached the horses. Porthos scowled but made no comment.
'Nice of you to join us,' the big man grumbled, the light in his eyes spoiling the effort behind his petulant greeting.
'I was tired of the bells,' was Athos' only reply, causing both men to chuckle.
Aramis had as always anticipated what was needed. He had managed to prevent Porthos from grabbing Athos in a bear hug, which would have caused much pain, and had also casually held the horses, Roger in particular, next to the courtyard mounting block. Athos had noted both facts and as he placed his booted foot atop the wood, gave Aramis a brief nod of the head. However, it still took all of his strength to pull himself atop Roger without breaking out in a sweat, and even with the bandages the ribs complained and moaned at their mistreatment. Aramis and Porthos exchanged looks of frustration at the behaviour of their third but made no comment.
Athos turned to Brother Barnard, who had stood patiently watching the reunion. 'Thank you Brother, I do appreciate all you have done. If I can ever do anything for the Brothers in return, you know where to find me.' The infirmarian gave a gentle smile.
'Try to stay safe is all I ask,' the older man replied, and though his eyes twinkled, they contained a sadness, denoting the lack of hope in his statement. Athos nodded and turned Roger toward the entrance, leading his friends back onto the streets of Paris.
Time to find out just what was going on – and he knew exactly where to begin looking.