Happy Easter Sunday to you all.
Apologies if any errors have crept in here. Thank you for reading and commenting on yesterday's offering.
CHAPTER 88
Athos was standing deep in thought midway between the bloodstained grass and the lodge's northern wing when Aramis joined him.
"Nothing too serious for any of them," Aramis reported. "Just bumps, bruises and cuts. Serge is taking an inventory of what stores he's lost but he thinks it looked worse than it actually was. He can still use much of it, although we might be picking out blades of grass from our next stew."
"That's one relief anyway. Tréville is not going to be a happy man when he gets back to find out everything that has been happening here, especially when so little of it actually involves the rebels."
"You've had a busy time of it," Aramis agreed. "Stupid of me to tell you to slow down a bit, of course."
"Oh it gets better," Athos said and went on to tell Aramis that he was in charge of the investigation.
Aramis whistled through his teeth. "Not much pressure there then."
Athos frowned at his friend. "That reminds me. What are you doing back here? The hunt has not finished yet."
It was Aramis' turn to provide details now and he explained how he and Porthos had followed L'Hernault back to the lodge.
A chill ran down Athos' spine. "What has Tréville told you?" He hoped it was the story that had been agreed.
"That L'Hernault recognised you as a Musketeer at the meeting, realised you were there as a spy and sent the men who attacked you. Tréville's convinced that he'll try again and asked us, d'Artagnan as well, to maintain a watch on him. He led us back here but before we could do anything else, we heard the shot that killed Planque."
The two friends studied each other, realisation slowly dawning.
"You had no idea of L'Hernault's whereabouts within the lodge," Athos said calmly.
"We thought it more prudent to go directly to Richelieu's office to find you and he said you had just left to walk across to the camp … with Planque," Aramis added.
"What would you say about attempting a shot with a pistol from one of those windows, probably on the ground floor, taking into consideration where Planque fell?" Athos asked.
Aramis was the undisputed marksman of the regiment and Athos would always willingly defer to his expertise.
"You know it was a pistol and not a musket, given the mess it made of him?"
Athos nodded. "Some Red Guard were taking advantage of the sunshine and were sitting between a side entrance to the lodge and the stables."
"I know. Porthos and I saw them. We thought we'd give them a wide berth and entered the building by the main door at the front; it was also closer to Richelieu's office."
"You were checking up on me."
"Not primarily," and Aramis shook his head. "We thought you might have access to finding out which room L'Hernault was in; it would have been quicker than running up and down corridors and banging on doors or hiding round corners in the hope that he'd reappear. So, what about that pistol?"
"Apparently one of the Red Guard has lost his."
"Careless of him," Aramis said, his levity merely superficial.
"It was on a table behind him. A nobleman answering L'Hernault's description passed behind him in order to use that entrance."
Aramis sighed in exasperation, knowing only too well what had happened. It was an opportune moment but L'Hernaut had seized upon it.
"That shot?" Athos prompted him.
"I don't know L'Hernault's prowess with a weapon. At that distance, reliability in hitting the intended target is compromised. I could not make that shot with confidence and I would never have attempted a head shot. Thinking back to how the pair of you fell, you were on Planque's left, weren't you?"
Athos nodded. "I was even further from the window, yes." He bowed his head, closed his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This could be the shortest investigation in Musketeer history."
He felt Aramis' hand cup the back of his neck and looked up. The stoic mask he often wore had slipped completely; in its place was resignation, deep sadness … and responsibility.
"I was L'Hernault's target. He was trying to kill me again. It was a shot taken without thought, borne of despair and haste. It should have missed completely. Instead, an innocent man lies dead because of me."
Aramis tightened his grip, his rushed words spilling out as he endeavoured to console his brother. "No, no, don't. Don't do this, not to yourself. You are not taking this upon yourself. This is not your fault. In no way are you responsible. This is a man who saw you as a spy and he failed to stop you delivering vital information. Now he wants to finish his task, regardless of it still being relevant. It's the act of an angry, even deranged man."
Deranged? That was an interesting word for Aramis to have chosen. Perhaps L'Hernault was deranged if he had inherited any of his father's mental weakness.
But Athos felt a terrible weight of guilt from which there was no hope of escaping and not helped by his persistence in with-holding the truth. This went much further than retaliation for his infiltration of a meeting. No, it could be traced back nearly thirty-five years to the moment a feud began between the heads of two households. It had not ceased with the demise of one man and could only be concluded with the death of at least one more. Athos knew that now. There could be no reasoning with L'Hernault, no peaceful solution.
A shout distracted them. Porthos was heading towards them with long, easy strides. He held out two pages torn from a book.
"There's the list of the men who were fightin'," he explained. "Red Guard started it. Took a little time but they admitted it in the end. Our boys were just tryin' to protect the food an' Serge but it got out of 'and." He looked from one to the other of his friends, but Athos had taken the pages from him and was reading. "What's goin' on? Somethin's 'appened."
Athos refused to look up from the pages he was perusing, a signal to Aramis that he was to tell Porthos what they had just been discussing. The marksman left out nothing, not even the part about Athos feeling responsible for Planque's death.
"That's rubbish!" Porthos retorted.
"My thoughts exactly," Aramis agreed, "although not my words."
"If anythin', me and Aramis 'ere are responsible."
"And how do you arrive at that conclusion?" Athos asked, folding and pocketing the papers.
"Because we followed 'im back 'ere, suspectin' that 'e was goin' to do somethin' and then we lost 'im. If we'd stopped 'im, Planque'd still be alive."
"Now that is rubbish as well and you know it," Athos stated.
Porthos pulled a face. "Then you ought to be rememberin' that sometimes. So, what're we doin' now?"
Athos straightened his doublet. "Now, gentlemen, we are going to apprehend a murderer."