Goodness me, I can't keep up with myself!
Thanks for reading and commenting. Here the tension mounts- I think! I hope!
Apologies for any errors that have slipped through.
CHAPTER 64
I
Each knew what the other was trying to do.
Tréville wanted to force Athos to accept the truth, that he was not going to be fit enough to travel to Versailles. If he succeeded in doing that, he might be able to postpone the moment when he had to challenge the young Musketeer about past events with L'Hernault.
Athos was determined to prove to the Captain – and himself – that he was capable of joining the regiment at the hunting lodge.
So he sat at the table and cleaned weapons, without complaining that they did not require such attention. Instead, he was thankful for he did not have to apply as much effort. Tréville was no fool; he would have known this when he set the task. He also generously ordered a cadet to collect the weapons and bring a second batch so that Athos was not forced to attempt the stairs to the armoury.
Serge continued to supply him with food and drink and glared at the Captain when Tréville passed by on his way out to the palace to check on the guards and to meet with the Cardinal, even if the King did not put in an appearance. There was a cruel irony that the King, afflicted with a mild chill, was hard to coax from his sickbed whereas Athos, struggling with a wound that so nearly left him for dead, would not allow himself the necessary rest to recuperate.
"You can ease up now 'e's gone," Serge announced in a loud whisper.
Athos gave a wry smile. "I have not exactly been applying the 'elbow grease' as it is," he quipped.
Serge looked him over. "You look tired. You ought to go an' rest now."
Athos shook his head, "I do not shirk my duty; I will still be here cleaning when the Captain returns."
And he was.
He had just started the fourth batch when Tréville rode in through the archway. Dismounting, he strode to the table.
"Captain," Athos acknowledged him lightly.
Tréville huffed in exasperation. "Enough for today," and signalling to the cadet, he instructed him to remove the weapons and clear away the cleaning rags. His brow furrowed as he studied Athos, noting the dark lines beneath green eyes and the grey complexion. He opened his mouth to speak and Athos immediately tensed, as if anticipating a rebuke. Tréville took a deep breath. "Please do not make me order you back to the infirmary."
Athos gazed up at him and then nodded, his exhaustion plain to see as he pushed himself to his feet.
Tréville handed him the crutch. "Rest. I will visit you later to update you on today's meeting."
The first time the Captain visited, he found Athos sprawled on top of the bed in a deep sleep and still clad in his shirt and breeches.
"'E was dead to the world before I even got 'is boots off for 'im," Claude explained. "Stubborn blighter, isn't 'e?"
"He's his own worst enemy in more ways than one," Tréville said cryptically. He laid an appreciative hand on Claude's shoulder. "Stay with him. I'll be back to relieve you later."
When he returned the second time and carrying a box under his arm, Claude was entertaining himself whittling a piece of wood whilst Athos quietly read.
"I'll be with Serge when you're ready to leave," Claude told the Captain and then deliberately raised his voice. "Me and Serge'll be plottin' on how to keep this one under control. Maybe we'll slip somethin' in 'is pottage tomorrow."
Athos did not even look up from his page when he countered drily, "Try something like that and it will not matter that the King has banned duelling."
"There is not much to report as it happens," Tréville admitted, making himself comfortable when Claude had gone. "His Majesty has announced that he might re-join everyone tomorrow whilst the Queen looks harassed in trying to keep everyone happy in his absence, and that includes Gaston, who is at his sycophantic best. He is also on the verge of making a nuisance himself, asking a lot of questions about details for the hunt."
"He probably wants time to pass on anything of value to the men waiting outside Versailles," Athos speculated.
"Undoubtedly," Tréville agreed. "In our turn, we are also learning little that is new. Three nobles have sent word to Richelieu so far and they will be arriving any day now with almost a hundred men between them."
"That's encouraging. If it continues, we should easily have the greater numbers," Athos said.
"I hope so. I am uneasy in using Louis as a kind of bait at Versailles, but Richelieu is convinced we will stand a better opportunity of intercepting and convicting all those involved if they are lured to the lodge, rather than apprehending a few of them beforehand."
"Has no-one been arrested at all?"
"Just the one, Pierre Folger," Tréville replied.
Athos was confused, never having heard the name before.
"My apologies. There are obviously things that I have still omitted to tell you. He was Allaire's contact, keeping him informed about Gaston's men and providing the map showing where they were camped. He was handed over to Richelieu's inquisitor to see what other information he knows but he has withstood questioning for days."
"He's probably beyond giving rational answers now," Athos said grimly.
There was a pause, the air heavy between them as they both contemplated the inquisitor's methods.
Changing the subject, Tréville produced the box. "Are you interested in a game of chess?"
II
The next morning, the garrison yard was almost empty. Apart from those assigned to the palace on duty, the men were at leisure. They slept late, were nursing hangovers or had found different forms of relaxation beyond the garrison walls. Some may even have been at church so when Tréville appeared on the balcony in his shirt sleeves, he was not expecting to see anyone.
He heard Athos before he saw him as the gentle thud of the crutch accompanied by a shuffling step drifted up from below the balcony. He started down the stairs as Athos came into view, making a careful circuit of the yard's perimeter. He nodded briefly to the Captain as he went past, sweat dripping from the ends of curling hair and his damp shirt sticking to his lean frame.
Claude was sitting on the table usually favoured by the Inseparables. He looked up as the Captain joined him.
"What's he doing?" Tréville asked, thinking that he already knew the answer.
"Getting' some exercise and provin' 'e can move," Claude replied. "Sorry, I couldn't stop 'im, short of knockin''im out."
"You're not to blame, Claude. When he's like this, there is little anyone can do, not even his brothers," Tréville said softly. "How many circuits has he done?"
"More'n I expected. This is his sixth an' it's costin' him."
"Just get him back to bed before he collapses. I am about to go to the palace but will look in on him when I return."
The Captain could not avoid the issue any longer. The only way to stop Athos from pushing himself so relentlessly was to tell him that he was not going to Versailles.
III
The visit to the palace gave Tréville an unexpected opportunity to raise the subject later.
He found Athos resting on his bed in the infirmary. A curt nod to Claude dismissed him and Tréville sat by the bed, his expression serious.
"What's happened?" Athos asked, aware of the Captain's sombre mood.
"Richelieu had some news for me. He said, and I quote, 'Folger died as a result of intense questioning.'"
""I'm surprised he lasted this long," Athos observed.
"But he did eventually reveal the name of the person who gave him his initial orders."
Tréville paused and watched Athos for his reaction.
"It was L'Hernault."
Athos' steady gaze never wavered at the mention of the name.
There was another pause, longer this time.
The Captain squared his shoulders. "I have made a decision. Heaven knows it was not an easy one to make but it's for the best. For your best. You will remain here when the regiment moves to Versailles."
"No!" Athos gasped. "Please! There are three more days; I can make progress during that time. You need my help. There will be things that I can do in the background, many things that would relieve your burden. I will fight but only if necessary; I could be at a position firing pistols. I could …." His voice trailed off as the Captain silenced him with a hand on his arm.
"You and I both know that this injury would be your death sentence in a fight and whilst I might appreciate your listening ear, there is a much more pressing issue that bothers me and makes me want to leave you here out of the way of any potential trouble."
"L'Hernault," Athos whispered.
"L'Hernault," Tréville agreed and he leaned forward, his voice low but his expression making it clear that he was not going to brook any nonsense. "You and I need to talk about this and I am not leaving here until I get some answers."
A/N: I have allowed myself a little license with 'elbow grease'. It does date from the early 17th century and although its first citation was 1639 (nine years after this story is set), I am assuming that it was probably in common parlance before that.