Le Code d'Honneur du Soldat | Soliders Code of Honour
Aramis could have sworn he heard two grown men let whimpers escape their lips upon re-entering their incapacitated one's apartments after a good deal of time passed. It would have made anyone sound a note of empathy seeing what was before them.
Perhaps he took for granted his keen eyes as a medic and sharpshooter, he knew the injuries their child hid under that bravado- one that another man might have missed completely.
It was a harrowing sight, unfortunately to bear witness. d'Artagnan languished upon a mountain of pillows, unmoving from the injuries sustained which were very effectively disguised behind the muddy clothes and disheveled appearance. The lower half of his arms discoloured with splotches of bruising, his claves streaked with lacerations, and swollen knees taking the brunt of his fall. It was a scene that almost looked as if they turned back time to the very day they brought him home after sustaining different serious injuries; the very cause that brought upon all this.
Athos felt a chill surge through his spine he couldn't be rid of.
"He's been given laudanum and willow's bark to ease the discomfort, give him the tincture on the table there in a little bit," their medic left parting instructions allowing the two into the room as he closed the door partly, "Mind your words. This was just as hard for him as it was for us. Let him sleep, I must report to Treville his injuries."
As soon as the door clicked shut, d'Artagnan opened his eyes. The very idea of sleep was but a joke to him, yet he indulged Aramis with the idea of pretending to rest.
d'Artagnan muttered under his breath,"Innocent sleep. Sleep that soothes away all our worries. "Sleep that puts each day to rest."
Athos heard his mumblings, chimed in softly, "Sleep that relieves the weary laborer and heals hurt minds. Sleep, the main course in life's feast, and the most nourishing."
He stared at the two as if standing on the precipice looking back at them. Precarious no doubt and weighing out the options, would sleep solve his problems or speaking above them prove to be the wise choice.
"How d-...why?" the question died on his lips as Athos shook his head gently, the 'never you mind that now', unsaid but strongly implied. There would be plenty of opportunities later to discuss the literary world of plays and poems.
"Y'know the captain was quite upset all day over this," Porthos broke the uneasy silence, answering the question of sleeping still painted across the injured one's puzzled looks. He carefully sat on the bed's edge, deftly avoiding touching any part that might cause d'Artagnan pain.
"With good reason, I disobeyed the rules," came the emotionless response, not daring to meet his gaze, "I accepted my consequences, knowing full well there would be many."
"You don't understand. Upset of the whole situation mainly. He reprimands because it means he cherishes you. You're no less a musketeer than the next man standing, making you recite the code of 'onour. If 'e didn't see you as such, would 'ave ordered different punishments first. Trust me. I know 'em firsthand."
"I am truly sorry." He did not elaborate, just stared at the roofing without blinking. They understood everything that stood behind those four words.
I'm sorry for making you sick with worry. I'm sorry I let you think I'd left without any bidding of farewell. I'm sorry I only selfishly thought of myself and my own satisfactions.
"As am I," Athos returned softly, hooking his doublet over the back of the chair before taking a seat, the shock now quite contained, "I should have minded my words and temper."
"Aramis explained everything." He tugged at a stray thread from the bandage linens, recalling the medic's pleas.
"Please, d'Artagnan. For all our sakes, never again. Never do that again. You were a superb horseman, were one, when you were at the peak of health. Remember. Healing takes time."
"I promise, Athos. Never again. Never."
"Good that's all settled between us now, that promise will be on your 'ead, always. Don't you forget it, lad." Porthos remarked jovially with the accompanying gestures, "Are we to create our own stories for your latest state in fashion or you'd grace us with a better tale?"
d'Artagnan chuckled softly. It would never fail, he would be the one to always turn any situation into a brighter light. Porthos' gift. Priceless.
"It's hardly an interesting tale." He scoffed, gently batting away his gestures. "I went out for a ride, we galloped, I fell, and slept under the trees. But I'm alright, really I am. Just a little bruised from the fall, nothing more. Aramis worries too much over the smallest matters, it's really not much at all."
Athos rolled his eyes, blowing off the last remark. It would be saying a bullet wound is no more injurious than a small splinter in one's palm. This young one would try his patience to the line at every opportunity it seemed.
"Drink," He held out the tincture Aramis left them with. The last thing he wanted was d'Artagnan to put up front, masking his discomfort. There was a high probability of him being too proud to admit it. Judging by their brother's copious amount of bandaging supplies used, Athos dared to bet it was more than "just a little bruised".
"Perhaps in a bit? I need to memorise Le Code by tomorrow evening. His draughts always make me tired."
"It's not ingrained in your memory?" Porthos asked with genuine surprise. "Every cadet has to recite it prior to receiving his pauldron. You've really forgotten it all?"
"No, not forgotten entirely, just need to be certain of the order." d'Artagnan closed his eyes and readjusted himself a bit more comfortably.
The sacred words started to flow out of him like a small spring, slow and steady. "Au service de la France, le soldat lui est entièrement dévoué, en tout temps et en tout lieu." His gascon lilt floating in and out between the vowels occasionally. "Il accomplit sa mission avec la volonté de gagner et de vaincre, si nécessaire au péril de sa vie."
[In the service of France, the soldier is fully committed at all times and places. He carries out the mission with the will to win and prevail, if necessary, at the peril of his life.]
-
Aramis stepped in just as d'Artagnan recited the final few words.
"I thought my instructions were clear, to rest," he spied the tincture still untouched. "Clearly not listening, are you. Euh?"
"I can't just yet. You've heard the captain's instructions, I'm preparing for tomorrow."
"Just as well that you should. He was beside himself after receiving my report, venting the whole spectrum of emotions freely. Honestly, I couldn't tell if it was anger or concern, best not to cross him again if I were you."
He stood next to Athos, tincture in one hand and the other on his hip deciding where to plant himself in this cramped room. "Drink and I'll forgive your disobedience this once."
Most of the vials and remedies Aramis made were half-way decent, but occasionally there were some that were outright terrible. This was one of them. It smelt and tasted equally bitter. The questionable brown colour was hardly appealing by any means either.
d'Artagnan gagged on the offending drink, trying not to grimace at its pungent aftertaste. "What did you add to this? It's ten times worse than something I've ever had before."
"Delightful, you've noticed a change." Aramis depanned, snatching the cup away a little too forcefully. "The worse it tastes the better it is for healing. Don't worry, learn to enjoy it. There will be another one for you tomorrow morning. It's to help with swelling and bruising."
Porthos bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at d'Artagnan's incredulous expression, his eyes were about twice their normal size and his mouth gaping wide open. It wouldn't be appropriate to laugh, unless he was asking to be cuffed upside the head by a very perturbed apothecary. The air in the room was beginning to shift.
"Please, it's not the worst you've had. Don't be so childish!" He placed a hand on his chest and leant forward, whispering dangerously. "I would know. Wouldn't I?"
d'Artagnan scowled at the medic, refusing to grace him with a decent apology. The bad taste matched his bad mood.
"You've had worse ones before, but perhaps for your good fortune you don't remember it." Aramis mocked his scowl to perfection, tossing the cup carelessly on the table.
His scowl only deepend.
"Oh right, I remember," throwing his hands in the air with a flippant wave, "You were unconscious then. Pity. Should have made you drink those when you were lucid. You'd really know what it means to have bitter remedies then. It's always extra work to make those."
"I'm sorry." scowl fading into an apologetic smile, "I know you mean well. It's simply really distasteful."
Aramis said nothing, but slumped against Athos shoulder whilst balancing himself on two legs of the stool. No one dared breathe too loudly. Very rarely was Aramis angry over anything, his long-suffering patience of a saint often saved them from going insane on those lengthy and trying missions. Yet, to find grievance with his medical care was like poking the fire hoping it would slowly burn out.
"Membre d'une équipe solidaire et fraternelle, il agit avec honneur, franchise et loyauté." He finally spoke, not a trace of annoyance or hurt in his tone. "Fraternité. Honneur, franchise et loyauté."
[As a member of a tight and fraternal team, he acts with honour, frankness and loyalty. Fraternity. Honor, frankness and loyalty.]
"Yes?" Athos pondered, he felt Aramis wanted to make a point by quoting yet another part of Le Code.
"We always work together during missions. I can't remember the last time the Captain assigned a major task to only one of us. They are bitter and strong because I don't want you missing from any missions, d'Artagnan. Fraternité, yes?"
"Fraternité." he repeated with respect. "Thank you Aramis."
"You've joined our fraternal company the day you came bursting through the garrison walls demanding Athos' blood." Porthos chipped in his thoughts, "Quite the memorable entrance, if I do say so myself. Do you really think we'd quickly dismiss you at the first chance we had?"
The Three cocked their heads to the side, demanding a response with their mirrored looks. d'Artagnan simply nodded slowly, their logic had no fallacy.
He felt like a part of the company, a part of the regiment the moment he was recruited to save Athos' life.
"Attentif aux autres et déterminé à surmonter les difficultés, il œuvre pour la cohésion et le dynamisme de son unité." Porthos said with gusto. "Need I say more to you?"
[Considerate for others and determined to overcome, he works for a cohesive and dynamic unit.]
"No, no. I understand."
"Good, you are one of us. Don't you forget it. Treville wouldn't allow just any cadet to wear the pauldrons if 'e didn't work well with others. 'member Gérard?"
"Regrettably I still remember him, Quel dommage! [ Pity!] He would have made a wonderful addition to our company. I enjoyed training with him despite everything."
Unexpectedly a surge of pain shot through his body though he hadn't moved nor anyone touched him. Squeezing his eyes shut trying to ride off the wave made not a sound, but his silence screamed the loudest.
"I know what you're trying to do for me, raising morale." Small beads of sweat dotted his hairline, panting to steady his breathing. "I admire it, truly so, but you've forgotten this part. It's probably the most important part of the Le Code."
"Most important?" Athos echoed, crossing his arms. In all his years of service, there was no singular important part of any oath that was more important than the other, he was curious to see what harebrained ideas his adopted son had concocted, yet again. Aramis instinctively switched places with Porthos so he could apply more salve on those battered limbs.
"When the Captain moved my position to take leave I couldn't stop thinking about this line. By definition I was not fit to be a musketeer anymore. I questioned everything, I still do, truthfully. These words were truly bitter and rancid, unlike anything Aramis made him drink even whilst unconscious "Soldat professionnel, il entretien ses capacités intellectuelles et physiques, et développe sa compétence et sa force morale." I'm unable to do many things now."
[As a professional soldier, he would keep himself fit intellectually and physically, and develop his competence and moral stamina.]
"True. Your physical limitations restrict your duties to stand guard, but that is not all that is required of a musketeer. Do you not remember, Il fait preuve d'initiative et s'adapte en toutes circonstances."
"It means: He uses his initiative and adapts to all circumstances." d'Artagnan explaining it immediately without thinking. "But I don't see how that matters at all."
"You've come a long way from the initial injures sustained months ago. The progressive you've made came from adapting to circumstances. We no longer have to assist you with many needs, but now only offer when you wish assistance." Aramis reasoned patiently, gently massaging the bruises on his calves. "d'Artagnan, why did the Captain ask you to recite Le Code?"
"It is my consequence for disobedience."
"Yes, but why not just the first half or only the line you spoke of as the punishment?"
"Because that is not the whole Code, it only makes the intent clear if the whole oath is read."
"Is it clear to you now?" Porthos stood next to Athos, who also had risen.
"Il fait preuve d'initiative et s'adapte en toutes circonstances." Athos repeated for good measure. "Ponder its meaning before you sleep, the whole oath. We will retire to our own apartments. Sleep well, musketeer."
[He uses his initiative and adapts to all circumstances.]
Wordlessly they filed out, leaving their words of wisdom for their youngest one to ruminate on.
Comme toujours, n'hésitez pas à me corriger si vous voyez des erreurs! Je m'excuse à l'avance! Ces traductions sont un peu difficiles car les mots utilisés ici ne sont pas très courants.
Le Code the four are quoting is actually a mixture of "Le Code d'Honneur du Soldat" and "Soldat de France- Le Code du Soldat" French Soldiers' Code of Honour. French military
d'Artagnan and Athos are quoting the Bard here. "Innocent sleep. Sleep that soothes away all our worries. "Sleep that puts each day to rest. Sleep that relieves the weary laborer and heals hurt minds. Sleep, the main course in life's feast, and the most nourishing."
Helena means that sometimes sleep can temporarily relieve sadness and that she wants sleep to "steal her'' from having to deal with her own sadness.
A Midsummer Night's Dream: Act 3, Scene 2.
