Aramis had his attention drawn away from Porthos by a low moan from Athos. He lay a restraining hand on his friend's chest and put himself in Athos' line of vision. Athos opened his eyes, blinking a few times before managing to keep them open. He looked unfocused for several seconds. Aramis waited patiently, ready for whatever reaction Athos gave.
Athos looked around the room for a few seconds before lifting his injured arm and wincing.
'Several stitches to your arm and a couple on your hand,' Aramis informed him, keeping his voice neutral. 'You won't be lifting a sword for a while. Bang on the head and some general bruises. You're going to be stiff and probably nauseous for a bit. Nothing you can't handle, I'm sure.'
Athos managed a small nod before looking around the room.
'Porthos?' he asked, his voice croaky.
Aramis glanced at d'Artagnan, who stepped forward.
'He's gone for some air,' said the younger Musketeer. 'He feels guilty about what happened.'
Athos looked into the distance for a few seconds, 'I remember the man tripping me to the ground and banging my head. I remember pain in my arm.'
'He used the claw weapon on you,' said Aramis. 'And we've worked out he had coloured glass sewn into his cloak to create the 'Devil Eyes' effect. We think you grabbed at him, which is how your palm was cut.'
Athos looked to his side, searching for something.
'Porthos?' he said for the second time.
Aramis realised the knock to the head had left Athos unable to remember things. He hoped the effect of the head injury would not last.
'He went for some air,' said d'Artagnan again.
Athos looked at d'Artagnan for a few seconds. Aramis wondered if he was remembering having already asked the question.
'He froze, didn't he?'
Aramis nodded, 'the memories got the better of him. Treville's relieved him of duty for a couple of days.'
Athos tried to sit up; Aramis stopped him.
'Relieved him of duty?'
Aramis nodded, 'the Captain wanted to give him a bit of time. This has dragged up things from his childhood that he hadn't thought about for years. But Porthos' taken it a bit personally. He'll be alright.'
Aramis hoped he had sounded more positive than he felt. Athos sighed and tried to sit up again, although not as quickly. Aramis steadied him before handing him a cup of water.
'Can you remember anything about the man that attacked you?' asked d'Artagnan.
'I saw his face,' said Athos. 'He was wearing a scarf. I must have pulled it off in the struggle… I am sure I recognise him, but I cannot remember where from.'
Aramis took the cup from Athos as he said, 'don't try to remember. You'll only make your headache worse.'
Athos nodded, 'I know. But it is frustrating.'
A few shouts from outside made Athos wince. Aramis glanced out of the window. He could see a group of cadets returning. They were laughing and joking with each other; the noise they were making was not excessive. But to a man recovering from a head injury, it would have sounded far louder.
'I'll tell them to be quiet,' said d'Artagnan.
'No,' said Athos. 'I would rather return to my rooms.'
Aramis glared at his friend, 'I don't think that's wise,' he said. 'You've been assaulted, you can barely keep your eyes open-'
'And it will be quiet there,' countered Athos. 'And you can sit with me overnight if you are going to insist that I need watching.'
D'Artagnan smirked. Aramis sighed and nodded.
'I have wine,' added Athos.
'It had better be a good bottle,' muttered Aramis as he picked up Athos' doublet, which had been laying on the next bed.
MMMM
Meanwhile…
Porthos walked without paying attention to his surroundings. He looked at the people that he passed. Any of the men could be the one that was responsible for the attacks. Porthos began to assess each man as they went by. He dismissed the old men, the cripples, and any that were significantly younger than him. They knew the attacker was fit and would either remember the previous attacks or know someone who was around when they happened.
As he walked, Porthos tried not to think about what had happened with Athos. He tried not to think about how he had frozen, like a scared child. How he was aware that his friend was being attacked but he did nothing. How would he be able to forgive himself? Athos could have been killed. Treville had relieved him of duty for a couple of days. Porthos wondered if the Captain would have liked to keep him away from any responsibility for longer. He was a liability.
What good was he as a Musketeer if he allowed his friend to be attacked whilst he stood by? Porthos had allowed his fear to get the better of him. He had allowed something that happened years before to affect his work that day.
Porthos felt pathetic.
He walked aimlessly, wandering along familiar roads and streets. Without intending to, he found himself at the scene of the earlier attack on Athos. The street was empty. Due to the lateness of the hour, the only people likely to venture along it would be the people who lived there.
There was enough ambient light from the few houses nearby that still had fires lit. Porthos looked at the spot where Athos had been attacked. He took a deep breath, inwardly cursing his cowardice. He could still see the attacker. The cloak that shone and sparkled, the hidden face, the claw. Porthos had to keep reminding himself that it was a man and not a supernatural being.
Porthos forced himself to look at his surroundings. He may have been relieved of duty, but he could still be useful. He wondered if any of the residents had seen the attack. He would return in the morning and knock on a few of the doors. Until then, all he had was his observational skills. And Porthos prided himself on being able to spot anything that was out of place.
They had been attacked from behind. Porthos looked back along the street. He spotted a set of wooden steps with space underneath them. A man could have hidden away with ease. They had deliberately made no effort to look around when they walked along the road earlier.
There was nothing of use in the space under the steps. Porthos stood in the shadows, looking up and down the street. He tried to imagine he was the attacker. He would need to know the area and need to know which way he could escape. Further along the street, Porthos could see other dark doorways and side alleyways. There were plenty of places a man could hide. The attacker might have remained and watched Aramis and d'Artagnan tend to Athos.
Watched whilst Porthos did nothing.
He shook his head; he could not allow his failure to continue to cause him problems. He had to concentrate.
If the man had watched the aftermath of his attack, he would know the Musketeers were investigating. Porthos wondered if that might make him more careful from then on. He doubted it would make the man stop.
Something moving in a gentle breeze caught his eyes. It appeared to be a rag caught around the edge of a crate next to a couple of steps leading to one of the houses. Porthos eased the fabric from the crate and looked at it. The tatty piece of black fabric had creases at either end. Porthos was reminded of the creases in the bandanas he wore where he tied the knot. The rag was long enough to act as a scarf.
Porthos fiddled with the fabric for a few seconds as he gazed into the distance. Something in the back of his mind was telling him the rag was important. He remembered the scarf from somewhere, but he could not place it. He pushed the tatty scarf into his pocket and walked a few paces trying to work out where the attacker would have gone. As he walked, he continued to try to drag the memory from the back of his mind. As the memory surfaced, he stopped in his tracks.
The last man they had talked to that morning. The scruffy man who knew that Porthos remembered the attacks. Porthos pulled the scarf from his pocket again and looked at it. He remembered the man was wearing it to try to cover up the bruises on his neck. The man had seemed self-conscious of them when Athos pointed them out. Porthos remembered thinking it odd that the man would try to hide the result of the attack on him.
Unless the bruises were caused by someone fighting back?
Had they spoken to the attacker earlier in the day and not realised it? Porthos shook his head. The man had been scrawny and did not look strong enough to attack other men. Something did not add up.
But he had something to contribute to the search. He had a solid lead. Porthos turned back towards the garrison. As he walked another thought struck him. The man may have been using the scarf to cover his face when he attacked people. If Athos had pulled the scarf off him during the attack, his friend would have seen the man's face. Porthos wondered if Athos remembered the man as well. And the man would remember both Athos and him from earlier in the day. Which explained why the man had made such a concerted effort to kill Athos.
Was Athos' life still in danger?
MMMM
Porthos barely acknowledged the Musketeer watching the garrison gate as he hurried by. He walked towards the infirmary, unable to hide his confusion when he could not see any light from the room. He doubted Aramis would have left Athos alone. His friend should have been waiting for him to return and relieve him. Porthos pushed away the thought that Athos' condition had deteriorated during the couple of hours since he left.
'They're not here.'
Porthos turned to see Treville watching him.
'Athos wanted to return to his rooms for some peace,' Treville glanced up at the sleeping quarters where a few rooms were still lit by the flicker of candlelight. 'Some of the cadets had too much of a good time tonight and were still being boisterous when they returned.'
Treville took a few steps towards Porthos.
'What's the matter?' he asked. 'Are you still blaming yourself? You know I don't blame you. Relieving you of duty for a couple of days is not a punishment.'
Porthos shook his head, 'no, Captain,' he said. 'I went back to where the attack on Athos happened. I found this.'
He held up the tatty scarf.
'The attacker was wearing it. I think Athos saw the man's face.'
Treville nodded, 'he did, but he did not recognise him. Although-'
'What?'
'He did say he thought he knew the man but could not remember where from.'
Porthos looked towards the garrison gate. Treville followed his gaze.
'Porthos, what is the matter?' Treville said in a tone that demanded an answer.
'The attacker will know him though. He was one of the men we talked to earlier today. He didn't seem capable, but I'm sure it's the same man.'
Treville's expression darkened, 'he's not long gone. Aramis and d'Artagnan are with him, but they should know this development. Go after them… and Porthos…'
Porthos paused and looked at the Captain.
'Be careful, the man will remember you as well.'
Porthos nodded. He unconsciously felt for his weapons as he hurried from the garrison. He knew the route his friends would take to reach Athos' rooms. With Athos injured, it would take them longer to walk through the streets. Porthos hoped he could catch them up quickly. He knew they would be vigilant as a matter of course, but an extra pair of eyes would not go amiss.
When he saw his friends some way ahead of him, he quickened his pace again. Aramis had his arm snaked around Athos' waist. Athos was walking carefully. D'Artagnan was keeping close by, but Athos did not appear to need his help. Porthos smiled to himself. He wondered if his friend was humouring Aramis by letting him help support him.
Porthos' smile faltered when he saw three men rush up to his friends. A brief melee followed. Porthos broke into a run as he watched Aramis being struck from behind. As he collapsed, he took Athos with him. D'Artagnan went to help but stopped when one of the men pointed a gun at him.
A couple of men appeared in front of Porthos, stepping out of a side street. One of them said something about him and grabbed his arm. Porthos pushed the man away, his focus solely on reaching his friends further along the road. The second man pushed him to the side. Porthos rounded on the two men, he pulled his gun and aimed it at them. The men backed off. Porthos took a couple of paces forward. The first man grabbed the second and pulled him away. The attempted attack or robbery was foiled when the men realised, they were faced with an armed man who was prepared to fight back.
As the men stumbled off, Porthos looked along the road hoping the delay had not proved costly to his friends.
D'Artagnan was being forced into a grubby looking carriage. There was no sign of Athos or Aramis; he could only guess they were already in the carriage.
Porthos was too late to help his friends.
He stared in shock as he realised each of the three attackers was wearing a cloak. Each of the cloaks had glass sewn into them.
Were all three men involved in the attacks?
MMMM
