Thank you SO much for all the lovely comments that went over and above the 'hi' I suggested.
The calm before the storm today in this chapter.
CHAPTER 101
I
"He's coming!" d'Artagnan said, unable to hide his excitement.
Ever since Porthos brought the news that Athos was joining them for dinner, the young Gascon had been on tenterhooks and his anticipation was infectious. They had swiftly tidied the tent and all three had hurried to where Serge had been preparing food, assisted by two willing Musketeers in lieu of his kitchen boy. With full plate, they returned to the tent, retrieved one of the few bottles of wine they had brought with them and prepared to wait, each hoping that Athos' business would not keep him so long that the food had the time to go cold. D'Artagnan's eagerness finally drove the others to post him as look-out at the entrance and, with his announcement, he scuttled back to his cot and dropped onto it, not wanting to be caught watching.
Athos opened the tent flap and hesitated briefly but the three were on their feet. Aramis was the first to greet him with a warm embrace and Porthos clapped him on the back, a gentle gesture for him. D'Artagnan's initial effusiveness had melted away to a warm shyness as he ushered Athos to his seat. Porthos handed him a plate whilst Aramis poured the wine for all of them, their voices eager and welcoming as they plied him with questions about the afternoon's interrogations and what Athos thought of the Red Guard.
As they ate, Athos told them most of what had happened but held back about losing his temper.
At last, he set his empty plate on the floor and wrapped his hands about the cup of wine.
"I owe you all an apology and I know that I keep saying it. You were right. L'Hernault's desire to have me dead is not about my being a spy at the meeting. We have known each other since we were boys." He hesitated and took a mouthful of wine as if to buy himself some more time.
"You were childhood friends?" Aramis prompted gently as the silence lengthened.
"No," Athos answered forcefully. "Quite the opposite. There had been a long-standing feud between our two fathers and L'Hernault has decided to carry it on."
"What was it about?" d'Artagnan asked in all innocence, missing the warning looks that Aramis and Porthos were giving him. He would learn in time that there were questions best left unasked and to leave Athos to say what he wanted, but now it was too late.
"A matter of honour," was the short reply.
Aramis held out the bottle and refilled Athos' cup as he sat staring at the ground. Both the marksman and Porthos knew that he was wrestling with himself as to how much more he would reveal, if anything.
"His father was mad, quite mad," Athos announced suddenly. "Now I fear that L'Hernault suffers the same affliction."
"That would explain some of his strange behaviour then," Aramis acknowledged. "I assume the feud between your fathers was never satisfactorily resolved." He carefully couched it as a statement rather than a query but there was another long, heavy silence before Athos answered.
"My father killed his in self-defence."
Aramis let out a long, slow breath and Porthos shuffled in his seat. Neither had expected that declaration and this time, as dArtagnan opened his mouth to speak, Porthos laid a hand on his arm to quieten him.
Athos stood up, clearly signalling that he was not going to say more on the matter, nor was he prepared to answer any other questions they might have.
"I am sorry that I have to go so soon but I must attend the end of the banquet."
Aramis reached for his bag. "Not until you have let me check that wound, you don't. At the very least, I need to change the dressing and bandage," and he rose to stand in front of Athos. Porthos was in the best position to block the exit from the tent.
"Anything to put your mind at rest," Athos conceded and started to remove his doublet, much to Aramis' surprise for he had been prepared for all manner of resistance.
Athos untucked his shirt and held it up so that the dressing could be removed.
"You look exhausted," Aramis said as conversationally as he could whilst focusing on his work.
"I am … somewhat tired," Athos admitted.
"I could give you something to help you sleep," Aramis offered as he finished unwinding the bandage and exposed the dressing.
"No thank you. I remember how I felt after the last time you gave me something to aid sleep. I would, however, welcome a draft for the pain in case I require it tomorrow." He was not about to admit that he was going to swallow it as soon as he left them, for he needed something to quieten the significant discomfort he had felt since hitting the ground when Planque was shot. His subsequent encounter with a wall had not helped matters either.
Aramis' sharp intake of breath when the wound was revealed was not what Athos had not been expecting.
"What is it? I did not think I had torn the stitches. Is it infected again?"
"You haven't and no, it's not, but there is new bruising," and Aramis let his fingers lightly flit over the fresh marks upon the otherwise pale skin. It was enough to draw a hiss from Athos. "Did that hurt?"
Athos nodded, craning his neck to see the evidence.
"When Planque knocked into you, you must have landed much more heavily than we all thought," Aramis said.
"It seems so." Athos would not add that he had been knocked against another hard surface by his commanding officer for that would lead to the inevitable questions as to what had occasioned it and he refused to go into more detail than he had already shared.
"Other than the bruising, it is healing well, and I should be able to take out the stitches in a couple of days. We'll get through tomorrow first," and Armis straightened up. "Not that you'll be doing any fighting, will you?" he added pointedly.
"How will you be leading the Red Guard?" Porthos pressed.
"Not from horseback," Athos answered quickly as he dropped his shirt over the fresh bandage and tucked it into his breeches.
"Athos," Aramis warned, rolling his eyes.
"All being well, there will be no fighting at all, and we will have done all this and worried in vain," Athos continued with false levity. No-one in the tent believed him and he certainly did not believe it himself. "Anyway, I could always hide behind Grenouille," he quipped, as he pulled on his doublet.
II
The King and his guests were still eating when Athos slipped into the Great Hall and searched the room for Tréville. He saw the Cardinal first, sitting towards one end of the top table, an empty seat by his side. He then saw the Captain standing in a shadowed corner of the room beyond the King; he was deep in conversation with one of the Musketeers on duty and as Athos approached, he saw that it was Claude.
"All well?" Tréville asked as he joined them.
"Mostly," he said tentatively.
Tréville arched a brow and Claude drifted away, leaving them to their discussion.
"I spent time with the others; we talked and ate together."
"I am pleased," the Captain said and, with a perfectly straight face, added, "I find it very unsettling when the four of you are at odds!"
"The problem lies with the Red Guard though. I have thought about it and have some ideas, but I need your help."
III
When the feasting had finished and Louis and his guests had divided into smaller groups, regaling each other with tales of their part in the day's hunt, Athos excused himself and headed back to the camp.
He was not late but Grenouille was already waiting for him. He had been busy and handed over another sheet of paper listing the weapons and ammunition. Athos struggled to make out the words by the light of a campfire. It made for better reading than the provisions inventory, but it was still woeful in comparison with what the Musketeers had brought with them.
"Thanks for that," Athos said, folding it and slipping it into a pocket to join the other list. "Let's make our rounds," and with Grenouille carrying a flaming torch to light the way, they headed towards the perimeter of the camp. Athos knew from having studied the security plans where every man should be stationed - be he Musketeer or Red Guard – but he was only concerned with the men he now commanded.
As he and Grenouille walked, he asked about the strengths and weaknesses of the men who had been brought to Versailles and was impressed by the depth of the other man's answers. With every exchange, Athos was increasingly convinced that Grenouille was a good soldier and was the right choice to be his second-in-command. If he continued in this vein, then he would soon be re-instated to his former rank.
As they neared each post, Athos insisted that he be told the identity of the man on duty there so that he met each of the Guards by name, before engaging them in a brief conversation. Where possible, he referred to something that Grenouille had told him about the individual and was satisfied more than once with the surprised reactions he received.
Every man was where he was supposed to be and no-one had been late to relieve their colleague.
"That's a first," Grenouille admitted when they had completed their task. "You're already 'avin' a good effect on 'em."
Athos smiled. "I think it is more to do with you having words with them earlier. I am sure many of them still resent having a Musketeer in charge, even if it is temporary. "
Grenouille shook his head. "There's nowhere for 'em to hide out 'ere if they don't follow orders an' they know already that you're checkin' up on things so they can't get away with anythin'; you're not ignorin' the duties or the men. I might be speakin' out of turn here, Captain, but there's somethin' I'd like to say."
"You may speak freely."
"When we did the rounds an' you spent time talkin' to the men, it was as if you cared about 'em, actually saw them as human bein's, instead of a nobody just there to be shouted at. They 'aven't 'ad that in a long time. So just in case no-one else says it, I want to say somethin' on their behalf. It's short an' sweet but … thank you. I'll leave you to get on now; I know you've got a lot still to do but make sure you get some sleep. 'Night."
Before the stunned Athos had a chance to respond, Grenouille walked away.
"Goodnight," the Musketeer-turned-Red Guard called out.
Grenouille did not turn or break his stride but simply raised a hand in a gesture of farewell.