Treville
He reached the garrison courtyard, and took his time dismounting. He needed a moment of respite. His wound throbbed mercilessly, making each breath incredibly painful. He left his horse in the care of a stable boy, and slowly went up the stairs to his office and quarters. He cast a glance at the table where the Inseparables used to sit, and shook his head.
They will come back.
The idea of their loss was unacceptable. He needed them now more than ever. He had too few people to lead the investigation and ensure the safety of the King and Queen, especially if every other guard or servant might be a traitor. Then there was the matter of Bonacieux, whose petition had only complicated the situation. If Constance were to be forced to leave the palace, the poor queen would be stripped of her ally and protector.
Treville stopped in the middle of unbuckling his weapon belt. Bonacieux!
He quickly put on his cloak, stumbling a bit as he headed towards the gate. It was not too far, but he finally decided to ride, as he felt ill.
The ride was short, and a few minutes later he knocked on the door.
He head a familiar, but unfriendly voice. "Who's there?"
"Treville. Captain of the King's Musketeers!"
"You again!" Some grumbling was heard, but the door opened.
The musketeer entered quickly, not giving Bonacieux a chance to stop him.
"Who paid you to demand that your wife be returned to you?"
"No one! I miss my wife!"
"Really? I find it odd that immediately after an attempt is made on the queen's life, you ask your wife to abandon her service. I think that if I dug a little deeper, I might find that you are part of a conspiracy against the king."
"That's a lie! I was furious when I heard that my wife spent last month in the company of four men! That is unacceptable."
Treville smirked. The official version of Constance's absence was that she had been sent on a mission for the queen. Gossip speculated that it had been some sort of espionage mission for the King's foreign wife. But no one at court could have known that she had spent her time taking care of injured musketeers. However, Rochefort obviously knew the truth…
The Captain shrugged, and turned to head for the door. "Very well...but I must tell you that you can expect to hang alongside the person who paid you."
"But the Prime Minister asked me to do it! He told me that he's very concerned about Constance's bad influence on the Queen. He said that it's my responsibility to keep her in line, and that I should not be so lenient with her."
I hope my words come true….I want to see Rochefort hang.
"I understand the Prime Minister's concerns, but he should not pay so much attention to gossip," he replied swiftly. After all, most ladies in waiting had lovers. Usually they did not have affairs with musketeers, but it was not unheard of.
"You must feel honored that Prime Minister spoke to you personally," the Captain said slowly. Bonacieux turned paler, and Treville saw he had won.
"Why would the Prime Minister talk to me personally? One of his servants conveyed the message."
"Does this man have a name?"
"Yes. Mathieu Toneau."
Treville nodded as he thoughts began to spin. Rochefort had a servant called Toneau. He was merely a underling who tried to gain status and position by flattering anyone with noble blood. He was easy to manipulate with money, or even with simple praise. Questioning him would be unlikely to provide any useful information. Still, whether the man was acting on Rochefort's behalf or not, it was interesting.
Treville bid his farewell, leaving behind a clearly terrified Jacques. All he wanted to do was to lie down and sleep, but when he reached the garrison, it seemed that that luxury was not to be afforded him. When he reached the garrison gate, he was informed that the King had demanded his presence. He sighed, then turned his horse around and rode back to the palace.
He was directed by servants to one of the King's chambers. The King was sprawled on a chaise-longue. He cast a glance towards Treville, his eyes unfocused.
"I'm very disappointed with you and your regiment. You are supposedly the best soldiers in France, but you allowed my wife to be kidnapped-or to escape… I'm still not sure which. Nonetheless, you made come her back... or you freed her from her captors. In any event, I need someone to find the culprits so I can execute them. Rochefort is of the opinion that even if you're innocent of any wrongdoing, you deserve the death penalty for your incompetence."
"Your Majesty, I failed in my duty to protect the Queen, so I will accept any punishment that you deem fit for me...but please don't tarnish the names of the musketeers who died trying to keep Her Majesty safe."
"Are you a simpleton, Treville? Why would I execute you now? I just said that I need someone to find the culprits! Now, have those two… Athos, and the other one-have they returned?"
"No, Sire. Unfortunately not."
Louis sat up, his voice rising. "I want you to stay in the palace and put things right, Treville. Rochefort would be overjoyed if I gave him the four men who were recovering outside Paris. Yes, he wants to see them dead, but he did nothing to deserve such a prize!"
What?! Are you drunk?! Or worse - drugged?
Treville took in the animated King's unfocused gaze, slightly widened pupils, and shaking hands.
"Sire? You're so pale…are you ill?" he asked, truly feeling worried.
Louis stared at him, clearly surprised.
"If you must know," he mumbled, "a cold has been tormenting me."
"Has the royal physician seen to Your Majesty?"
"Yes. He swore it would pass, and gave me foul things to drink." When Louis whined like a petulant child, he seemed more like himself. "So, Treville, it's settled. You'll stay in the palace. I've ordered for a room to be readied for you. And make sure that Porthos and Athos are sent to me as soon as they return…even if they have to be carried! You're dismissed. Now go get some rest. You look awful!"
Treville bowed, then left. All he wanted to do was to lie down in the room that had been set aside for him. He honestly did not even remember how he got there.
A knock.
Ignoring that.
Another knock.
Not going to answer.
"Captain? Are you there?!"
It was Constance.
"Are you going to open it? Or do have to shoot the lock?!" Her teasing tone did not completely mask the fear and concern in her voice.
"A moment!" he called, his throat rough and dry. He was surprised to realize that he was still fully clothed. He was stiff, and felt as if each of his buckles had left a painful print on his body.
He opened the door.
"I'm sorry to disturb you." Constance was not alone. The royal physician, Lemay, was with her.
"What's going on?" Treville asked, eyeing the doctor with suspicion.
"May we come in?" Constance asked briskly.
He stepped back, and allowed them to enter the room.
"First, I need for the doctor to examine you," she said firmly. "If you wish, I can wait outside."
"Then what?" He began to unbutton his doublet, as resistance seemed futile.
Once she saw that he was cooperating with her request, Constance seemed a bit less tense. However, she still appeared to be concerned. "Captain, I have noticed that quite a few people in the Palace have been looking ill. I asked Doctor Lemay to review the situation. I think you should hear what he has to say."
The doctor took in a deep breath, and began to talk as he changed the Captain's bandages.
"I am not quite sure what to think. I first thought that I was dealing with the minor ailments that are typically seen this time of year. However, it seems as if everyone in the Palace is suffering, and that worried me. I felt that I could safely rule out the plague, as the condition of my patients seems to be deteriorating very slowly. However, the fact that everyone, without exception, is getting worse makes me think that a poison may be the cause. Unfortunately, I have no experience in treating victims of poison."
Could this day get any worse?
"What about the King and the Dauphin?"
"They are both ill, but Rochefort has forbidden me to care for them. He has brought in another physician."
"Who?"
"A man I have never heard of-Franc Junard."
"What would you suggest as a treatment?"
"I think the best thing would be to leave the palace. My guess is that the poison is in the air."
"How fast acting do you believe it to be?
"I don't think you have been exposed yet, so you should not feel any symptoms until you have been here for three to four days. The first symptoms would be subtle. It seems that those who are inside the Palace only part of the day feel better outside."
The Captain remained silent, hoping that Lemay would say more. However, the physician finished caring for his wound in silence.
"It' s healing. I recommend that you stick to light activity for now."
Treville nodded distractedly.
"I need to know everything-even the smallest of details might be useful. Is there a place where the poison's effect seems to be stronger?"
"I have noticed that the people who are close to the King seem to be some of the worst affected. If you like, I can leave you my case notes. They might prove useful."
Treville nodded. "I would like a chance to read through them. Thank you."
Lemay sensed that he was being dismissed. He bowed, then left.
"Constance, I spoke with your husband."
The redheaded froze, her eyes widening as she stared at Treville.
"He thinks that he's acting on the advice of Rochefort. Once we are rid of that traitor, I am optimistic that Monsieur Bonacieux's petition will soon be forgotten."
She let out the breath she had had been holding. "Thank you, Captain," she murmured. The mere thought of returning to her husband terrified her.
"We'll find a way to protect you from him," he vowed, and was moved when he saw a rush of gratitude in her eyes.
"How is the Queen?" he asked. Anne's condition still weighed very heavily on his mind.
"Not well at all. She is very sleep-deprived and jumpy. In truth, she is afraid of even the smallest shadow. I don't think I'm ever seen someone so depressed. The Dauphin is weak and fretful, which doesn't help." Constance sighed, then seemed to collect herself. "Captain, I did a quick investigation." Her tone was now brisk, and she seemed calmer. "I have a list of all the various craftsmen that Rochefort employs on a regular basis."
She started to recite a long list of names and addresses.
"Thank you, I'll write down the names and pass them on to my men. The King has asked me to remain in the Palace for now."
"Is there any news about Athos and the others?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"No. I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything."
"Thank you," she whispered, clearly worried about her friends.
He quickly wrote down the names and addresses, and sent the list to the garrison. Then he started to walk around the palace. The atmosphere was tense, but everyone that he saw seemed sleepy. Fatigue seemed to have infiltrated every nook and cranny of the building. No one had been spared its reach.
Treville was in the courtyard when he saw Etienne rapidly approaching. Something in his lieutenant's posture sent a chill into the Captain's heart.
"Captain." The musketeer, his eyes haunted, greeted him with a nod.
"Report!" Treville ordered, barely able to control his nerves.
"We were given a lead as to the whereabouts of Athos and Aramis. We rode out immediately to check into it, and Porthos and d'Artagnan joined us. We found Athos in the Palace on Ile de Cite. He… told us that Aramis is dead."
"What?!"
No! No…
"Athos said that a man came with this paper." Etienne handed him a parchment. "Then he shot Aramis, and took his body away. I suspect that we'll find Aramis' corpse soon...probably with something compromising placed in his hands."
He read Rochefort's order-or rather permission- to kill Aramis and take his body. Probably the "True Musketeers" were behind this...
The Queen! It's a plot against her…
I… must be the one to tell her. She deserves a chance to grieve in solitude. If she is told by anyone else, she might betray her feelings for the marksman…
"How's Athos?"
"He's in bad shape. He was tortured, and his wounds are infected."
"And the other two?"
"Porthos is devastated. D'Artagnan refuses to believe that Aramis is dead. They are both injured, but...they'll heal."
Porthos will never heal after Aramis' loss.
I won't be able to keep him alive. Perhaps it would be best for me to just let him go.
"Thank you. Keep Porthos in the garrison. I'll be there tonight."
King's orders be damned. I don't care anymore. After all, I've already committed treason by hiding the Queen's affair...at this point, ignoring one of the King's orders can't make things worse.
Only the fact that he stood before the door to the Queen's apartments finally roused him from his thoughts.
After a moment, he knocked, bracing himself for the conversation that he must have with Anne.
Constance opened the door, and turned pale when she saw him.
"D'Artagnan is alive, and relatively well," he said quietly. He saw the relief in her eyes. "So is Porthos. From what I have heard, Athos is seriously injured…"
"And Aramis?" she asked, her voice tense.
"Dead."
She gasped, and covered her mouth with her hand.
"I must speak with Her Majesty," he said, his voice firm. "May I come in?" She nodded, and closed the door behind him.
He bowed before a second set of doors, which were already open. "Your Majesty."
Anne was sitting in an armchair.
"Captain." She greeted him with a small nod of her head.
"Has something happened?" she asked anxiously.
"I have received some news about Aramis," he said, speaking in the formal manner that he always adopted at court.
"Bad news?" she breathed.
Constance appeared at her side, and took the Queen's hand in her own.
"Yes. It has been reported that he was shot… and… I'm afraid that they have taken his body away for some nefarious purpose."
Anne gasped. Shaking her head, she lowered her gaze. A keen escaped from her lips, but she quickly pressed her hand to her mouth. Tears began to fall from her eyes.
"I'm sorry," Treville whispered. He felt completely helpless in the face of her despair.
After a moment, he added awkwardly, "Your Majesty, please remember that you have a son who needs you. Now I will take my leave, and give you some time to grieve."
"Wait!" she ordered, "You will tell me everything you know, down to the smallest detail. I want to know. I need to know."
He told her everything that Etienne had reported to him..
"Captain, I know that the King wishes to see the musketeers Athos and Porthos as soon possible. It seems sensible that Doctor Lemay be put in charge of their care. He can use the resources here at the Palace to give them anything he decides that they need. Constance, fetch Lemay."
The redhead left.
"Jean-" Anne whispered his first name, and he felt his throat tighten. "I need to see him one last time… I need to bid him farewell."
"Your Majesty, I cannot allow you to risk your safety."
"Please…"
He relented when he saw the pleading look on her face. "I promise I will do my best to make it happen, my Queen."
She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "No, you're right. I cannot endanger his son. Please, forgive me…" she whispered, "but did he leave any family whose future should be secured?"
"No and yes, Your Majesty. I am familiar with the terms of his will - the only family mentioned in it are his musketeer brothers."
She nodded, then stood abruptly and approached Treville.
"I want Rochefort dead. Do I make myself clear?" she asked. Her voice held no heat. Her tone was just incredibly sad.
"Yes, my Queen."
"Thank you. Now I should let you go. You should be with his family," she said gently.
She was right.
He rode towards the garrison. Lemay followed him in the cart.
"Where is Athos?" he asked the guards.
"In his room, Sir," a young recruit replied respectfully.
Treville froze when he saw a lonely silhouette sitting at the Inseparables' table.
"Porthos?" he asked.
The dark skinned musketeer showed no reaction.
"PORTHOS!" Treville snapped.
"Athos is upstairs," the big man replied, his voice toneless.
"Why are you sitting here?"
"Because I saw Aramis everywhere else."
"How is Athos?"
"Unconscious. The physician is not optimistic."
Treville put his hand on Porthos' arm. The big man flinched.
The Captain sighed, and left his musketeer. The big man saluted his dead friend with the bottle he held in his hand, then took a stiff drink.
When Treville entered, D'Artagnan was changing the cold rag on Athos' head.
"I've brought the royal physician with me," he announced.
"No bloodletting," d'Artagnan said firmly. "Aramis wouldn't approve."
"I'll tell him," Treville promised.
"Did Athos tell you any more about Aramis?"
"No. he hasn't regained consciousness. According to the doctor, the wounds aren't fatal, but the secondary infection might be. If we can quell the infection, he should wake up but… his fever is high," d'Artagnan said solemnly.
"Why Porthos isn't with you?"
"I sent him away. He cannot stand to hear Athos calling for Aramis."
Treville bit his lip, and gestured to d'Artagnan to give Lemay some space at the bedside.
"Mis…" Athos rasped when the doctor started to unwrap his bandages, "Mis… don't… I beg you… don't."
Treville's heart broke.
D'Artagnan stepped back to the bed and took Athos' hand in his.
"Hush… it's fine….you'll be fine."
None of them will ever be fine again.
"D'Artagnan…"
"Sir, Aramis is alive! We'll find him!" There was both challenge and desperation in the lad's voice.
"D'Artagnan, we must find him before they use him against us."
"What do you mean? Aramis would never turn against us."
Not willingly. But we are talking about his corpse…
He explained quietly.
D'Artagnan swallowed loudly, then murmured in a broken voice, "He's alive."
Treville could only envy that irrational hope.