Thank you to the legion of readers over the past couple of days and to those who have left reviews.
It appears Athos has at last begun upon the slow road to recovery but the cloud that is Versailles looms large.
CHAPTER 49
I
"Your man needs to wake up. We need his information urgently," Richelieu said gruffly when Tréville imparted the good news to the Cardinal and King that Aramis and Porthos had at last arrived safely with Athos the previous afternoon. It had been a worrying evening and for much of the night, but he was pleased to report that there had been a change for the better since then. It also gave the Captain the opportunity to thank Louis once again for sparing Carveau to tend the Musketeer.
The physician had been as good as his word and had already visited the garrison earlier that morning to check upon Athos' condition. He was genuinely delighted at the evident progress and nothing would deter him from believing in a full and swift recovery once Athos started taking sustenance. His words were spread rapidly amongst all the soldiers who anxiously awaited news and did much to encourage them. He confirmed Aramis' impression that the wound was not so inflamed and urged him to continue his ministrations for they were gaining the upper hand in the fight against the infection at last.
"Now, now, my dear Cardinal," the King scolded Richelieu gently. "Some sympathy would not go amiss at this time. I could have lost a very valuable man during this little adventure!"
Tréville bit his tongue and resisted the urge to hit his head repeatedly against the nearest wall. He would hardly have described Athos' risky fact-finding experience as a 'little adventure' but at least the King seemed to appreciate his efforts at last. Louis' belated acknowledgement that Athos was 'very valuable' paled into insignificance though when compared with what the Captain and his brothers would have endured had they lost him.
Nothing, however, could detract from the elation he felt now that Athos was improving, and the King's admonishment of Richelieu added a frisson of satisfaction. He was impatient for them to conclude their business so that he could get back to the garrison as quickly as possible. Nothing new had come to light about the proposed insurrection of the nobles since Gaston's report from his informant two days before. Everything was in place for the Versailles trip and they were only revisiting details to check and double check. Any necessary changes now rested solely upon any additional information that Athos might hold and the explanation of the markings he had made on his list.
There was nothing to clarify things for Tréville and he had spent a lot of time puzzling over the document. More than once in the past he had tried to think like his lieutenant, sometimes succeeding, but any interpretation of these particular scribbles defeated him. It was only a matter of time before Athos awoke but would he even remember the significance of the marks? Tréville tried to brush aside this new concern.
II
Mid-morning found him entering the infirmary with a lighter spring in his step and carrying a pile of papers on top of which an ink bottle was precariously balanced. The quill was clenched tightly between his teeth. He cut a surprisingly comic figure but Porthos darted across the room to relieve him of some of what he held.
He removed the quill and gestured with it towards Athos. "How is he?"
"Still sleepin'," Porthos grumbled as he stood in the middle of the room holding Tréville's items.
"I told you not to be so impatient," Aramis said from his seat beside the bed. Tréville was convinced that the marksman had not have moved from the position since before dawn. "I keep telling you that the sleep is aiding his recovery."
"And that is what you three need as well," Tréville declared, retrieving a small table from the other side of the room and placing it beside Aramis. He shooed him off the chair and repositioned it at the table and then relieved Porthos of what he carried.
"Off with you. Get some rest," he continued as they stared at him open-mouthed. "I will sit with him until you return."
"But ..." Aramis began.
Tréville sat down and rearranged the papers. "That's an order. Whilst he sleeps, there is nothing to do for him and I can just as easily work here as in my office." He looked up at the three. "Why are you still here?"
Porthos and d'Artagnan did not need telling again and were heading towards the door, mumbling something about Serge and food. It was only Aramis who hesitated.
"If he should wake …" His voice trailed off.
"You think I cannot cope with an injured man? When he wakes, I will give him water and I see in the hearth that you are keeping a pot warm. No doubt it is the broth the physician ordered. I will make sure that he has something."
"I have prepared a mixture for the pain, should he need it. One dose is in the cup but do not give him any more from the bottle that stands beside it." All the medication Athos had been given by the lay brothers should have left his system by now, but it had left Aramis feeling very wary.
"I would not dream of it," Tréville reassured him, appreciating the origin of Aramis' concerns. "Now go!"
But Aramis still stood there, uncertain.
Tréville softened. "There are enough empty cots in here. Rest yourself on one of those. Then you will be nearby should I need to wake you for help or advice."
He knew Aramis well, the level of care he provided for the sick and injured and the reluctance to relinquish any responsibility he shouldered, especially when it came to tending one of his brothers.
"It has been a …" and Tréville paused, searching for a suitable word, "fearful time, a stressful time, but you have brought him safely home. He will recover but neither Athos nor I will be happy if you make yourself ill in the process."
He watched, relieved, as Aramis nodded submissively and, without a word, crossed to a cot and lay on it.
"We'll get some food, bring it back and then we'll settle too," d'Artagnan announced.
III
Two hours later and the only sounds to be heard within the infirmary were the scratching of Tréville's pen on paper and Porthos' gentle snores. There was the creak of a cot as d'Artagnan turned over, but he did not even stir. Aramis, utterly exhausted, had not moved a muscle since his head touched the pillow. He was asleep before the other two had a chance to return and the food they brought him was left untouched beside him.
Periodically, Tréville looked towards his injured lieutenant. They had rolled Athos onto his right side to alleviate any pressure on the long wound and to make it more easily accessible without disturbing him when Aramis wanted to check it. He was still pale - the man never had much colour in his face anyway – but Tréville persuaded himself that Athos looked relaxed, comfortable and was sleeping easily, his breathing soft and rhythmical. It was so far removed from his death-like stillness when the fever was at its height.
Tréville yawned and stretched. He had had less than three hours' sleep himself but that was a veritable treat after the previous days – no, weeks - of worry that had weighed him down since he watched the young Musketeer ride out of the garrison at the beginning of his journey south.
How long ago was it? The Captain did a quick calculation in his head. Today was actually the seventeenth day since Athos' departure and so much had happened in the interim. It was not over yet though, not by a long way, for there were still ten days left before the royal party left for Versailles. Ten long days in which anything might happen and who could possibly know what would occur once they arrived at the hunting lodge.
He had been lost in thought for several minutes, quill pen poised and dripping ink onto the document he was writing, when he developed the feeling that he was being watched. Turning his head, he scanned the room but Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan slept on. Tutting at the mess he had made on his paper, he was about to resume his work when he glanced towards Athos.
A pair of green eyes, perfectly focused, looked back at him.