A/N: The site was playing up again, and I couldn't thank you for your reviews. I could read them on my email account but couldn't reply to that either, as it didn't allow it. So thank you all! I am doing my bit for the UK hospitality sector this week, so posting may be erratic as I doubt that wi fi will be accessible where I am going. I will try, promise. Otherwise, next posting will be Friday.
oOo
CHAPTER FIVE
Informed by Aramis that Athos was awake and looking a little less poorly, though was still debilitated, Treville reluctantly agreed that a visit was in order. He was, after all, in charge of the Garrison. Athos had been – still was, dammit! - a loyal soldier under his command. Now, it was time for Treville to play his part.
"How is he?" he asked Aramis, quietly, his eyes downcast on his overflowing desk.
"Quiet. Confused. We should be ready to answer his questions," Aramis replied, standing wearily at the other side of the desk.
"With untruths," Treville ground out, still keeping his eyes averted.
Aramis sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"We have little choice," he replied. "The world he inhabits is gone. It would be overwhelming to be told the extent of it. We are strangers to him. We have no information on the life he lives anyway. We can only tread carefully."
Treville mulled over his soldier's words before giving him an uncertain look.
He wished he could refuse. Ride away and spend his days in the Palace and forget the last few days had happened. But, meeting Aramis's earnest gaze, he knew that his duty lay here, with his men. All of them. Athos needed them to be clear-headed and strong. He was aware that Porthos was struggling with this. d'Artagnan was getting on with it, as was Aramis, who was shouldering the main burden of it.
"Very well. Of course," he finally sighed, standing up, his chair scraping back.
Nothing more needed to be said and Treville walked from his office, leaving Aramis to follow and make his way to the bench beneath.
Taking a deep breath and pushing open the outer door to the Infirmary, Treville straightened his back and went to meet the Comte de la Fere.
oOo
"Jean Treville," he said, gruffly, in an attempt to mask his unease as he entered the small room. "Captain of the King's Musketeers."
"Olivier d'Athos," the oh-so familiar voice replied. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain. My apologies for the inconvenience."
Treville hesitated, feeling a little lost, before he squared his shoulders and allowed the mantle of Captain to fall around him fully.
"Not at all," he replied, pulling up a chair and sitting down. "You will stay here until you are fully recovered. I insist."
The "Comte" looked dazed and exhausted. Treville could not help staring at him, though the man did not notice, as his eyes soon closed.
"I am at a loss to know why I am in Paris at all at the moment," he finally said, his voice so familiar but uncertain. "So if I can avail myself of your hospitality, it will be most welcomed and appreciated."
When Treville did not reply, the patient opened his eyes and met his curious gaze. Treville dropped his eyes and shifted in the chair. They had at last come up with a story of sorts that may satisfy.
"I am told there was an accident in the near vicinity," he replied. "A fall from your horse. "You were brought here because the Garrison was near and we have an Infirmary. And," he added, "The services of the King's Physician."
Thankfully, he seemed to accept it.
"Do you know where my valet is?" The Comte suddenly asked, looking a little unsure. "I will need my clothes."
Looking away, Treville had to think fast.
"I do not, but I will enquire," was the best he could come up with.
"Aramis said the same," the Comte replied, though there was no rancour to it.
A silence fell between them and Treville began to feel a little unnerved by it. The situation was delicate, to say the least.
"I knew your father," he said then.
The Comte's eyebrows rose.
"A long time ago," Treville replied, quickly, looking away from the steady gaze. "You will have been just a boy."
"He never said," the Comte replied. "He had a tendency to dissuade me from my interest in the military." The inflection he put on the word spoke volumes.
"It is an interest of yours?" Treville replied. Knowing it was, of course.
"A great interest," the Comte replied. "I have read many historical accounts and treatises on a wide range of campaigns."
It explained Athos's keen strategic mind, Treville knew, though he had not known the extent that his father dissuaded his interest. He imagined the boy Athos would make every attempt to pursue his interest, if the man was anything to go by. Once Athos set his mind to something, there was little to sway him. The Athos he knew was still an avid reader, though he had little time for it.
"Your father had different priorities," Treville said.
"You could say that," the Comte sighed.
Treville smiled;
"I have some time," he said, now on safer ground. "It is a long time since I discussed our history with a knowledgeable participant."
He had, in fact, discussed the very same many times with his Lieutenant, but this man was not he.
"And I have time also, it seems," the Comte replied softly, sinking back into his pillows.
Treville stayed for more than an hour, discussing a wide range of military subjects, including the Musketeers. The Comte had many questions, but Treville could see that he was tiring. Not wishing to incur Aramis's wrath, he gently closed the discussion and prepared to depart. His listener, however, looked a little disappointed.
"When you are a little better," Treville therefore said, "We will be happy to show you around."
The smile that broke on their guest's face was so unfamiliar and so unexpected, Treville held his breath for a moment.
"I will look forward to it," the Comte grinned. "I think my predicament may just have a favourable outcome."
Treville took his leave, his heart heavy, his thoughts bitter sweet. He had enjoyed the time spent with the Comte but now wondered if he would ever again be able to discuss tactics and strategy with the soldier whose keen mind he valued above all.
Emerging into bright sunshine, he closed his eyes and took a moment to raise his face to the sun, and breathe.
"Is everything alright, Captain?" Aramis asked as he approached.
Treville opened his eyes.
"His shoulder pains him," he said, gruffly, as he pushed past him.
"I have something for that," Aramis replied quietly to himself, frowning at his Captain's retreating back.
oOo
A little later:
Treville screwed up the third piece of parchment in the last hour. He could not afford to waste his paper like this by carelessness; he had already broken two nibs and made numerous spelling mistakes and miscalculations.
Sighing, he sat back and picked up his glass. He should not really be drinking on duty but the last few days had been very testing. As had the last few hours.
To speak to Athos in the guise of his former self had been strange indeed.
The thought of Athos losing all the ground he had made up during the past few years had disturbed Treville greatly. As his commanding officer, Treville liked to think he had had a hand in his soldier's rehabilitation, along with the two men now paying close attention to his predicament, and lately, d'Artagnan too.
He had enjoyed talking to the "Comte" and learning a little of his interest in the military from his own lips, and to see a brief insight into his childhood, but the thought of not being able to do the same with Athos, who had developed into an astute counsel and strategist, had led him to retreat to his office and pull his cognac from his cupboard.
oOo
"Is there a Comtesse?" Aramis asked, tentatively, that afternoon.
"No," the Comte replied.
That was interesting, Aramis thought. Wherever Athos was on this journey, it was before he met his treacherous wife. Still not good news, as if he returned to Pinon, there would still be the matter of explaining why his house was in ruins and his brother was dead.
He was thankful that the Comte's awareness seemed to be at a time in his life that had been stable. Had it been later, it would have thrown him into turmoil; a return, no doubt, to the man he had witnessed in the early days of their acquaintance.
"Although," the Comte was saying, bringing Aramis back, "There is a woman."
"Oh?" Aramis said, leaning forward, not being able to help himself.
"I have only seen her twice," the Comte said, his face softening.
"She is beautiful?" Aramis asked.
"She has eyes like a feline," the Comte replied. "And her hair is thick and has a lustre I have never seen before."
Oh, so this was Athos's first encounter with the woman who would be his wife. He found himself in a difficult position now. He could not persuade Athos to not continue with the romance, as it had already happened, and yet, knowing what they knew of this ill-fated relationship, every nerve in his body screamed for him to do so.
"Her brother is a pastor," his friend was saying. "He is looking for a parish and stopped in Pinon."
"Is there a vacancy for a pastor?" Aramis asked.
"No, but I am sure something will come up. They are both personable people."
"I am sure they are," Aramis whispered.
A chill made its way down his spine, despite the warmth of the day and he excused himself, hurriedly.
He let his feet take him without thought, once he escaped the Infirmary, finding himself on the land behind the barracks. He made his way to the large oak in the corner and sat beneath its shade. Sometimes used as an additional training ground, a small section of the land still remained where it was possible to sit unseen and become lost in thought. And think he did. Here was Athos, their quiet, stoic, honourable brother. They had observed him over the past few days, sometimes openly, usually without his knowledge, searching for similarities. Heartbreak aside, they were drawn to the man who looked and sounded like their friend, but this man was unencumbered by bitter life experience and lost love.
There was often a weariness to Athos as he shouldered his experience; when it all became too much and he retreated.
This man had no such weariness.
He held himself straight, as Athos did, but there was no tension in his shoulders. His eyes were clear, not clouded, or guarded. It was only recently that Athos had divested himself of his lands in Pinon. That had helped him to settle and they had all shared that experience together. Time would have told if Athos had driven his demons away. That was of course, before this.
They should not compare the Comte to Athos, but how could they not? For Athos may not return, and this man may be all they had left.
And why would he stay with them? What had he in common, apart from an interest in their regiment and thanks for their care.
His conversation with Athos had placed his friend in a time when his life was simple. Little did he know what was to come, and the devastation the woman he was attracted to would bring to him and to his tenants, who, without warning, lost their Liege Lord.
Closing his eyes against the sun, his mind drifted back to that day that they would never forget.
The ride back to the Garrison from Pinon had only taken an hour.
They road slowly, all of them physically tired after the exertions and emotions of the last few days.
The Baron Renard had paid a high price for his betrayal of Athos. No one had wished his son the ultimate harm, but the boy had been promised lands that were not his and his ill-advised bravado had been his downfall.
It was a sorry end to a needless exercise, though they could forgive the villagers for their last-ditch attempt to get their Lord's attention, however drastic that had been. As they prepared to leave, Athos had apologised to them, realising their advice to stay and fight had been sound and was for his tenants as well as for his benefit.
In that hours ride back to their lives, Aramis had sensed a change in Athos.
In the end, he had leant over and gently touched his friend's arm, tense with the grip he had on the reins.
"It's over now, Athos," he had whispered, his voice low. "Your past is in the past."
"Do you think so?" Athos had replied, quietly, before looking across with wide eyes. "Bertrand and the others?" he added.
"Of course," Aramis had said, firmly. "They were paying their respects to you for what you did for them."
Athos nodded. Normally, he would argue against that, but something had shifted that day.
Opening his eyes, Aramis sighed.
Athos's past was no longer "in the past," as he had said so blithely on the ride back. It had come crashing through their complacency with a vengeance.
When was Athos's life ever simple?
Rising, he dusted himself off and steeled himself to return to the Infirmary.
This perhaps would be their greatest challenge, but they would face it together.
All for one.
To be continued ...