Many thanks to all who read and left comments on the last chapter.

At last, they all back in the sanctuary that is both the garrison and home.

CHAPTER 47

The yard fell silent as the men watched Aramis and Porthos carefully manoeuvre their fallen brother towards the edge of the cart. Nothing of Athos was visible as he was so swathed in blankets and none of the onlookers dared voice the question that was uppermost in their minds.

Tréville's chest tightened as he watched Porthos lift the unresisting load into his arms with ease. Aramis had jumped down to stand beside the big Musketeer and their faces were grave. The Captain had to know the worst and blocked Porthos' route anywhere as his eyes flitted from the motionless bundle to the face of the man holding his burden so carefully.

"Well?" Tréville asked. It was little more than a whisper and was imbued with the desperation that ate at him.

"He's still with us," Porthos ground out.

With a ragged sigh of relief, the Captain reached out for the edge of the outermost blanket, his hand visibly shaking as he peeled it back to reveal the face of the young man whom he had made his second only months earlier. Athos was deathly pale so that his dark hair, long lashes and beard presented more of a stark contrast than usual. To the casual onlooker, he might already be dead because it was clearly an unnatural sleep.

Briefly, Tréville raised a hand and let it graze Athos' cheek, feeling the intense heat of the dry, parchment-like skin. The Captain snapped to his senses and stepped aside to allow Porthos to move.

"Quickly, into the infirmary," Tréville ordered. "All is ready, and the King's physician is waiting."

There were so many things he wanted to ask but knew he would have his answers in time. The most important thing now was to settle Athos and let him be examined so he quickly introduced the Musketeers to the physician, Carveau. There was a nodded acknowledgement from the three.

"He's naked," Tréville said unnecessarily as Aramis unwrapped the blankets around Athos so that Porthos could set him down in the clean bed.

"The lay brothers had given away any of his clothing that was free from blood," Aramis explained. He folded the rough blankets neatly and cast them aside on a neighbouring bed. They had been scratchy and not ideal against Athos' skin, but they had served their purpose. "They did reclaim his boots though; I found them in the straw in the cart after we set off this morning."

The physician was peeling back the dressing over the wound in Athos' side.

"d'Artagnan here has told me much of what has happened to this young man," the physician, "but I would also like to hear it in your own words. I gather you are the Musketeer with the medical knowledge, Aramis."

So Aramis gave his own succinct account of Athos' condition when they found him, the divers medication administered by the lay brothers during their ill-advised treatment, how he dare not give anything else even had Athos been conscious to take any more, and concluded with what he had done to re-open the wound, clean it and re-stitch it, adding that he had frequently applied more honey and changed the dressing several times in the intervening hours.

"It is the fever that concerns me most at the moment," Aramis admitted. "It has lasted at least three days that we are aware. We have used cold compresses, but I would not use a cold bath as a remedy."

"Quite right; he is not strong enough to withstand the shock, but we could try a tepid one."

Aramis' eyes widened with hope. "Do you think it might work?"

"We lose nothing in the attempt. Whilst he remains unconscious, we cannot get the much-needed fluids inside him," Carveau asserted. "Has he sweated at all?"

Aramis shook his head. "I presumed the purging and bloodletting had already taken their toll."

"Very likely. Has the fever produced any seizures?" the physician asked, brow furrowed as he assimilated what he had been hearing.

"No," Aramis assured him, "but the one occasion he spoke to us, he was very confused."

"Hallucinating?"

"I believe so," Aramis answered.

Carveau thought for a moment. "You have done everything I would have recommended, Aramis. I am sure that your brother still lives because of your prompt action and care."

It was small consolation but brought a winsome smile to the faces of the four Musketeers gathered in the room.

"We will try the bath," Carveau decided and Tréville, thankful at last for being able to do something constructive, went to the door and shouted a string of instructions to anyone still in the yard beyond.

Within minutes, men were hefting in a bath and positioning it in the middle of the room as other Musketeers created a human chain to pass buckets of hot and cold water from the kitchen and well to the infirmary. Carveau and Aramis mixed them together, testing the temperature at regular intervals until it and the water depth were deemed satisfactory.

"Line it with a sheet," Carveau instructed and, as d'Artagnan complied, Porthos and Aramis worked together to lift Athos and gently lower him into the bath they had prepared.

"Can you support him, Porthos?" Aramis asked. "We don't want him to slip beneath the surface." Using his hands, he cupped water and poured it over Athos' chest and shoulders.

"How long should we do this for?" d'Artagnan wanted to know.

"Until the water is much cooler; cold even," Carveau said. "No sense in adding more hot. Then dry him thoroughly - we do not want him catching a chill now - and dress that wound again. If the fever does not break, repeat the process every two hours."

"This is getting' familiar," Porthos quipped a few minutes later as he rubbed at a lifeless arm with a cloth. Athos had been lifted from the water and laid on a sheet on a separate bed so that he could be dried. D'Artagnan was nervously wiping the legs as Aramis tended the wound in Athos' side.

Once the task was completed, Athos was transferred to his bed and covered to his chest. Carveau stood to one side with Tréville and supervised proceedings.

"You have done well. There is nothing more that I can do now so I shall return to the palace. I will be back in the morning to check upon the patient, but you must send for me immediately if he worsens. You know what you are doing. When the fever breaks – and I have faith that it will before the night is out – be ready for when he wakes. Get as much water into him as you can whenever he opens his eyes. Chamomile will help keep that fever at bay and feed him. A simple broth would suffice to begin with for the next battle after that fever breaks is to get nourishment into him and rebuild his strength. Only then will we see that wound begin to heal."

The men said their thanks and goodnight, and Tréville led the physician into the yard, insisting that he be permitted to have some of his men escort Carveau back to the palace.

"'E looks comfortable at least," Porthos said, nodding to where Athos lay.

Aramis allowed himself a low chuckle at long last and he pulled up a chair to sit beside his brother. The physician's words had both encouraged him and provided a much-needed hope.

"I suggest we do like-wise," he said, lowering his own tired body onto the chair, "and make ourselves comfortable for a while. It's going to be another long night and it's only just over an hour before we have to repeat the bath procedure all over again."