Chapter Eleven

A few days later…

Aramis looked at the people in the courtroom. A cross-section of society had gathered to watch the Devilman being tried. There were some of the poorest people, perhaps come to assure themselves that the fearsome beast was nothing of the sort. Then there were the wealthy people, mainly men but a few women dotted about. All of them were craning their necks to get a view of Jacques as he stood, arms manacled, at the centre of the courtroom.

The man did not look intimidating now. Aramis only had vague recollections of the men that had tried to kill him and his brothers. The blow to the head he had suffered made it difficult for him to properly remember what happened. He did remember Jacques being intimidating towards Claude and Pierre. He dominated his pair of followers. He was also a strong, capable man. But not now. A few days languishing in the Chatelet had left him looking weakened and no longer a threat to anyone.

The judge was asking d'Artagnan and Athos a few questions about their brief time as captives. As Aramis did not have clear memories of the event, he was not required to give evidence.

'The man believed he would be able to convince the people that he and his two men had saved them from the creature that they had created,' said Athos. 'He was then planning to extort money from the locals in return for keeping them safe.'

A ripple of muttered angry words spread through the watching crowd. The poorer people and the lower classes could not hide their annoyance at being preyed upon by the man standing accused.

The judge, an old man with wispy grey hair, scowled at Jacques for a few seconds before looking towards the Musketeers again.

'Captain Treville,' he said. 'Do you have anything to add? I believe you were forced to shoot this man to prevent him from killing another of your Musketeer's.'

Porthos shifted awkwardly next to Aramis. He was using a walking stick and despite trying to stand tall was leaning on it heavily. If Aramis did not think the help would be unwelcome, he would have put his arm around his friend to help steady him.

'Musketeer Porthos was assisting the men that had been trapped. He had his back to Jacques. I was forced to shoot Jacques when he aimed his gun at Porthos. Had he fired Porthos would have been killed. Jacques' intent was for all four soldiers to die.'

More murmurs from the crowd. Aramis wondered if some of the people watching would not have minded four Musketeers being killed.

The Captain continued, 'we believe this man and his two accomplices' to have been responsible for dozens of attacks in the city. They prayed on the weak and planned to make further money by pretending to protect them.'

'Thank you, Captain,' said the judge before turning his attention to Jacques. 'Do you have anything to say?'

Jacques was looking at the ground, he shook his head. Aramis guessed he had accepted his fate.

'I see only one course of action. You instilled fear and you perpetrated many attacks. You attempted to kill many people, not least these four Musketeers. An attack on them is akin to an attack on the King. I sentence you to be hanged. Take him away.'

Most of the people in the crowd began to shout at Jacques as he was roughly dragged from the courtroom. Some jostled to get a better look at the condemned man, whilst others moved back, away from any potential trouble. Porthos did not move. Aramis remained by his side as the courtroom cleared. Athos and d'Artagnan walked across to join them. Athos had his right arm in a sling and d'Artagnan was also using a stick to walk, his ankle still weak after his treatment by their captors.

'He'll be hanged in the morning,' said Treville who had been talking to the judge. 'I expect it will draw quite a crowd.'

MMMM

Aramis allowed Porthos to get a few paces ahead of him as they walked along the dank, depressing corridor of the Chatelet. Porthos had wanted to visit Jacques alone but Aramis insisted on going with him. His friend might have considered himself fit, but he was not. The fact that he was reliant on the walking stick to move any distance made him vulnerable.

Aramis was prepared to let Porthos talk to Jacques alone. He waited several yards away. Jacques would not be able to see him.

'I wondered if I might get a visit,' said the condemned man from the confines of his cell.

Porthos spent a few seconds regarding the man before he responded.

'I just want to know why?'

There was no response from within the cell.

Porthos asked again, 'why do you think it's acceptable to terrify people? To leave then in fear.'

'I saw an opportunity and I took it,' came the eventual reply.

Porthos shook his head.

'Claude said he thought you'd seen the Hell beast,' said Jacques. 'But I find it hard to believe you would have been affected or even believed in my beast.'

Porthos took a step closer to the bars of the cell.

'I remembered you from the first time around. From years ago.'

'That wasn't me.'

Aramis could tell his friend was taken aback by the statement. He could hear Jacques chuckling.

'You must have been young when those attacks happened.'

'I was five,' Porthos replied.

A shadow moved in the cell. Jacques approached the bars. Porthos did not move.

'I was old enough and sensible enough to know it wasn't some Demon,' Jacques said. 'The attacks lasted a few months then stopped. But the tales and memories lived on... I found the claw.'

Jacques smirked as Porthos visibly reacted to his statement.

'I found it discarded near one of the attacks. I bided my time, I waited decades. I knew if I was going to profit from the attacks, I had to get help.'

Porthos looked angry, 'you are responsible for Pierre and Claude's deaths as well.'

Jacques shook his head, 'they knew what they were getting themselves into.'

Porthos leaned closer to the bars, 'well, I hope you are satisfied.'

Jacques laughed, 'I'm to hang. Not the best outcome… although I suppose you're happy.'

'Few deaths make me happy,' Porthos replied. 'But for you… I'll make an exception.'

He pushed himself away from the bars and turned away. He walked past Aramis and away from Jacques without looking back.

MMMM

They walked side by side along the road. Aramis glanced at Porthos, trying to gauge his mood. He was not sure if talking to Jacques had helped him or not. The revelation that Jacques was not the original Devilman had shocked Porthos. Aramis hoped that piece of information would not affect him too much.

'I'm alright.'

Porthos had spoken without looking at Aramis. The rhythmic tapping of his stick on the cobbles the only sound for a few seconds.

'I know it was his fault. I know I didn't cause you all to be hurt. But I will always regret not stopping the attack on Athos. It was wrong of me to assume I'd be fine.'

'Athos doesn't blame you.'

'I know.'

They continued in silence for a few minutes.

'I suppose we'll never find the original attacker, the one that was around when you were a child,' mused Aramis when he could no longer endure the silence.

Porthos shook his head, 'but we shouldn't see this happening again. People have seen that it wasn't the Devil or a Demon. Jacques failed. He gambled on the naivety of the lower classes and the scaremongering of the nobles. And he failed. He lost and tomorrow he will pay the price.'

Aramis was pleased his friend was finally accepting that he was not the cause of all the issues from the previous few days. He knew Porthos would still be bothered by the events, but not to the same extent.

They turned into the garrison. The usual activities were going on, cadets sparring and being given training. The sound of gunfire on the range echoed through the yard intermittently. Serge was dishing out orders to a few of the men as they unloaded a cartload of supplies. Normality reined.

A builder was busy refitting a door, his tools spread across a table that had been moved across the yard for him.

Nearby two of the stable boys and Simon, one of the cadets, were standing by a large brazier watching the flames. On the ground next to them was a pile of clothing. As they got closer Aramis realised it was the cloaks Jacques, Pierre, and Claude had worn when they carried out their attacks. The flames from the fire were being reflected in the pieces of glass. The cadet picked up one of the cloaks and started to rip it up and throw it on the fire.

'Simon, who told you to do that?' asked Porthos as they reached the fire.

'The Captain asked us to,' said the cadet.

Simon threw another piece of the first cloak on the fire. Porthos stared at the flames for a while as they consumed the fabric. The broken bits of glass were coming loose and tumbling through the fire. A few had fallen out of the brazier to land on the ground.

Aramis could see Porthos losing himself in the recriminations again, he wanted to persuade him to walk away. After a few seconds, Simon pointed towards the nearby table.

'The Captain asked us to get rid of that as well, although I'm not sure what to do with it.'

Laying on the table next to the builder's collection of tools was the claw weapon. Aramis had not seen it close up. He had only caught glimpses of it up to that point. It was shown to the judge in the courtroom but then taken away by Treville.

Porthos walked up to the table and stared down at the weapon. Aramis stayed by his friend's side, unsure what he could do or say to snap his friend out of his melancholy mood. Porthos reached forward, resting his finger on one of the blades of the weapon.

The blades, and the metal-plated glove they were attached to, had been polished to a high shine. The flames from the brazier danced in the reflection. Aramis could well imagine the five-year-old Porthos being terrified of the formidable weapon.

'We could disassemble it,' suggested Aramis. 'Take it apart. Destroy it.'

Porthos shook his head, 'it needs destroying… but not carefully.'

He reached across the table and picked up the builder's hammer. He grasped the hammer firmly and brought it down hard on the weapon. The hammer smashed into the metal plating of the glove, causing the blades to bend upwards. Porthos pushed his walking stick towards Aramis' before using his free hand to move the glove onto its side and bring the hammer down a second time. The impact bent each of the four blades downwards, crushing them into each other.

Aramis took a step back as Porthos continued to pound the hammer into the weapon for a few seconds. He stopped as suddenly as he had started and carefully placed the hammer back from where he had taken it. The builder, Simon, and the stable boys were watching Porthos. The stable boys looked a little fearful. Aramis indicated that they were alright as he stepped back up to his friend.

'Do you feel better now?' he asked.

Porthos stared at the remains of the claw weapon again for a few seconds before nodding.

'I am now,' he said. 'Whoever made that… that thing… I hope they got what they deserved back then. I hope something horrible happened to them and that's why the attacks stopped.'

Porthos reached out for his walking stick. He glanced apologetically at the watching men before turning away. Aramis followed him; he knew Porthos would not be able to put all that had happened behind him straight away. But in time his friend would come to accept that he had been a victim rather than the one at fault.

The End.

Authors note: Thank you for all the comments and favourites. I hope you enjoyed it.