Another chapter in about eighteen hours! I know it won't go to the top of the list so I hope folk don't miss it!
I loved Alison K's comment that it was like a Musketeers' Advent calendar and I liked the idea, although I don't know if I will be able to maintain daily chapters throughout this busy month. I will try!
They have found their missing friend but at what cost?
CHAPTER 40
Porthos and d'Artagnan collided in the open doorway and peered past Aramis into the gloomy room. As the offending smell hit them, Porthos coughed uncomfortably whilst the younger man grimaced and covered his nose. Both were riveted by the sight of the figure huddled in the solitary bed.
"Wait," Aramis ordered, concentrating upon the still form who lay curled on his right side, back towards the door.
Aramis moved slowly around the bed, already making an initial assessment. Athos was worryingly close to the bed's edge and, in the candlelight, it became obvious why.
A trail of vomit ran from his partly open mouth, beneath his right cheek and down the side of the bed to pool on the floor, mere inches away from an empty bowl that had probably been set there for just such a purpose.
A candle stood on a simple table to the side of the bed and Aramis moved it closer so that he could see his friend's face more clearly. His fingers trembled as he felt for a pulse in the neck even as he watched the chest for a natural rise and fall.
"Is he …?" d'Artagnan began from the doorway, unable to finish his question.
"Aramis?" Porthos prompted, the urgency unmistakable.
The marksman allowed himself a weak smile as his eyes welled with tears of relief. "He's alive."
But he dared not add the word that had lodged itself into his head. Just.
Now he could hear the low, laboured breathing. Stroking untidy hair back from the forehead, he felt the heat of a raging fever and wondered how long Athos had been in its grip.
Aramis' gaze travelled down his friend's body. Both arms were bandaged at the elbows, the strips of linen crusted with blood spots. A sheet had been pulled up to Athos waist, but it clung unnaturally to his lower body and was darkly stained in many areas. Clenching his teeth against a rising anger, Aramis lifted the sheet to reveal Athos' nakedness, a larger bloody dressing on his side and the confirmation as to one source of the overpowering smell.
"Oh my poor, dear friend, how did you get yourself into this mess? But do not worry. We are here now and will look after you," he whispered, more for his own benefit than that of his unconscious brother.
His mind raced with decisions, prioritising them as he left the bedside, pushed between his friends and went out into the main part of the infirmary.
"Well?" Porthos demanded.
Aramis took in the men standing before him; two more of the lay brothers had joined them, curiosity drawing them.
"Where's Robert?" Aramis asked.
"Seeing to your horses," replied Anselm.
Aramis nodded approval and indicated a patient in a bed against the opposite wall. "So, Bartholomew, I want that man moved down the infirmary away from this area. We are going to use these two beds here. D'Artagnan, the first thing I want you to do is to get my bag. Robert has probably taken everything into the stable by now."
With a nod, d'Artagnan hastily left to fulfil his errand.
"Theodore, you will find all the clean sheets and blankets that you can and some rope. I'll want some of the sheets but use anything else to construct screens around these beds to afford us some privacy. D'Artagnan will help you when he returns.
"Anselm, I need plenty of cloths and buckets of water. Bring me one cold and one warm, not hot, to start with and then keep them coming. Bartholomew will be free to help you as soon as he has moved that man and told me exactly what he has done in his treatment of Athos.
"When Robert arrives, he is to clean up the mess in that room, strip the bed and remake it. Now, move!"
"What about me? What do I do?" Porthos asked quietly.
Allowing himself a moment of undisguised raw emotion, Aramis slipped a shaking arm around Porthos' shoulders and drew him back into the room where Athos lay.
"I need you to help me," he said, as they stood together and looked down upon their stricken brother. "I cannot do this on my own."
Even he did not know whether he meant the sheer practicalities of tending Athos or if it were the enormity of determining what was required to treat him appropriately. The lay brothers were clearly inept at the task, but he feared that he might not have the necessary knowledge either. He still had to examine the wound, but he would not uncover it until they had cleaned up their friend.
"He's bad then," Porthos said simply. He understood Aramis well and could interpret many of his reactions.
"He's bad," Aramis acknowledged. "He's burning up with fever; I suspect the wound is infected. They bled and purged him, Porthos, and left him lying in his own filth and vomit."
Porthos emitted a sound that resembled an angry growl and moved as if he were about to storm out after the lay brothers, but Aramis gripped his arm.
"Later, Porthos. There will be time to address their poor care later but for now we must focus on Athos. I need you to carry him out and put him into the nearest bed. I'll clean him there, but you must move his limbs and turn him for me. Then you can transfer him to the other bed. Can you do that?"
"Of course I can," Porthos said as he unbuttoned his doublet and threw it over a chair in a corner of the room.
Aramis disappeared briefly and returned with another sheet.
"We'll wrap him in this for you to pick him up." He grabbed the edge of the soiled sheet that covered Athos. "You ready?"
Porthos rolled up his shirt sleeves, took a deep breath and nodded. "Ready."
Aramis peeled back the bedding and heard Porthos' dismayed gasp.
"Never thought I'd say this, but I reckon it's a blessin' 'e's not aware of what's goin' on right now."
Once Athos had been covered with the new sheet, Porthos gently moved him into a better position and lifted him up with ease.
Aramis' breath caught as he watched one close friend cradling the frighteningly still and limp form of another, but he quickly recovered and moved to settle Athos' head more comfortably against Porthos' shoulder.
"Right, to work then," he announced and led the way out of the room.