Authors note: Some might find parts of this a bit graphic. Potential trigger warning in a note at the end of the chapter, although it's fairly obvious if you've read the rest of the story.
'I got the key,' said Simon as he jumped down into the pit.
D'Artagnan tried to look in the direction of the campsite but still could not see over the edge of their temporary prison. They had been left alone for several hours with only occasional visits from one or the other of the builders. Babin had wandered over at one point and relieved himself in the pit, causing Constance to draw her knees up in an attempt to keep away from the vile man. Babin had chuckled and after doing his breeches up had walked away without saying a word.
They had not spoken much, there was not much to say. They were relying on Simon to help them. D'Artagnan had tried pulling at the chains that were keeping him where he was but, as with Constance, he had no luck. The chains were solid, the posts deeply embedded in the pit.
Constance had been able to kneel and watch the builders, she told him they were getting on with their work as if nothing untoward was going on. Simon had glanced in their direction a few times, earning himself another slap from one of the other men. It was obvious the young man was the least well thought of from the group. D'Artagnan wondered if his brother had been a protective barrier when he had been alive. Babin knew that Simon had nowhere to go and appeared to have effectively enslaved the young man.
The fresh bruise to his face standing out starkly on his pale skin, Simon crossed the pit to Constance and crouched next to her. He slipped the key into the padlock that was keeping her captive.
'We'll just make for that wooded area behind us,' said d'Artagnan, 'we'll need to avoid the roads that's the first place they'll look for us.'
'Where will we go?' asked Simon as he started to pull the padlock free of the chains.
'Back to my garrison,' replied d'Artagnan. 'You'll be safe there.'
'He ain't gonna be safe anywhere,' came a voice from the edge of the pit.
They all looked up. Babin was watching them. D'Artagnan cursed himself for not keeping an eye out for the rest of the men. They knew the men were by the stream bathing and had not expected to be checked on for several minutes. Babin's hair was wet and his shirt was damp in places, he appeared to have dressed in a hurry. The other men were arriving. The older man was still doing his breeches up, while one of the other's was busy tucking his shirt in.
Simon had twisted around and was staring up at Babin, the fear keeping him rooted to the spot. Marcel jumped into the pit and approached the terrified young man. As Marcel reached forward to grab Simon, he managed to pull away but was not quick enough. Marcel, who was of a bigger build than Simon grabbed him firmly and hauled him up to stand. One of the other men joined them and helped to push the unfortunate young man to the edge of the pit.
The grey-haired older man walked up to Constance and picked up the padlock. He leered at her, d'Artagnan could see his lover trying to affect a defiant glare back, but she had fear in her eyes. She was probably not fearful for herself. D'Artagnan knew that she would be worried about Simon. D'Artagnan was worried as well. The older man pushed the padlock back around the chains keeping Constance restrained and pushed the lock closed. He took a moment to stroke her arm with a sigh. Constance could not help herself; she jerked her arm away.
The man chuckled, 'I'd have liked to have some fun with you…' he leaned into her slightly but spoke loudly enough for d'Artagnan to hear, 'I may still have some fun with you.'
'Leave her alone,' said d'Artagnan.
The man looked back and laughed before moving to help the two men, who were holding Simon, to force him out of the pit. They dragged the young man away. Simon had whimpered a few times but otherwise not said anything a look of resignation on his face.
Babin stared at them both for a few seconds. He shook his head.
'You are responsible for what happens next,' he said, before walking away.
MMMM
Athos looked at Aramis who seemed a little worked up as he told them he had acquired a strong pain killer and had the very simple method of dealing with burns explained to him. Porthos looked a little angry.
They had met at the garrison and spent a few minutes updating each other. Treville had disappeared to give out a few orders to ensure the smooth running of the garrison whilst he dealt with the continued search for d'Artagnan and Constance. They planned to leave as soon as the Captain had finished.
'Did something else happen?' asked Athos. 'Whilst you were in the Court?'
Aramis sighed and looked away, a look of frustration on his face.
'It seems,' said Porthos, 'that Aramis is never going to be forgiven for killing Charon. The other men cannot see past the fact that he killed their leader. It doesn't matter to them that he was saving my life. I guess I've been gone too long for them to have any respect for me either.'
'I felt a little useless in there,' admitted Aramis. 'To be honest, if Porthos was not there and we had the protection of Flea's man, I doubt we would have got away as easily… if at all. But we have d'Artagnan and Constance to think about. I can avoid going near the Court in the future.'
'Unfortunately, I think that is for the best,' said Porthos, 'I can't always be there to protect you.'
Athos watched the annoyed expression on Aramis' face turn to one of amusement as Porthos grinned at him. The moment of levity was quickly replaced with the sobering thought of the danger their friends were in.
'Now that we have these,' said Aramis, holding up the bag he had put the bottle of painkillers in. 'Let's hope we don't have to use them. I'd rather we got them back in one piece.'
Porthos nodded his agreement.
'Gentlemen,' said Treville from behind them. 'I propose we split up to check the tradesman's and craftsman's taverns. We can meet at the Old Dog in two hours.'
As they walked from the garrison, they decided which of them would go to which taverns. Their plan in place, the four Musketeers split up.
MMMM
They did not have to wait long before the men returned, d'Artagnan was sure he would not forget what followed for a long time.
Marcel and the grey-haired man were firmly holding Simon between them. The young man had been stripped completely, he was covered in blossoming bruises and grazes where he appeared to have been kicked. He was crying, begging to be released between sobs and trying to pull away from the men, digging his heels in as he was dragged across to the pit. His wrists had been tied behind his back. There was nothing but fear and confusion in his expression. Simon knew what was in store for him, he had already seen his brother go through the same thing.
'Let him go,' said Constance.
She was leaning forward as far as she could. D'Artagnan glanced at her, he thought he should tell her to be quiet, not to rile the men any more than they were already. They did not want their anger directed at them. D'Artagnan felt a pang of guilt knowing that for a few minutes at least, poor Simon was the focus the Babin's anger.
'Shut up,' shouted one of the men.
'Just leave him with us, when your demands are met, we'll take him with us, you won't see him again.'
Babin laughed at her, 'you know as well as I that the King ain't gonna meet our demands without something to back it up. We need to get the other craftsmen on side and this message shows them, the frolicking classes, just what we're capable of. And it will show the other craftsmen that I am a leader they can trust to get things done.'
'You're deranged,' said d'Artagnan unable to stop himself.
Throughout the exchange Simon had continued to sob, his breaths short and gasped. Babin nodded to the two men holding him captive. They pushed him forward. Simon fell into the pit landing heavily in the space between d'Artagnan and Constance. It took him a few seconds to take another breath the air knocked out of him as he landed.
'Please…' begged Simon piteously.
'You were on thin ground already,' said Babin with a sneer. 'We should have just done you in when we did your brother.'
'Claude,' Babin looked at the man standing closest to the bucket of lime.
Claude picked up the bucket, the man did not appear to be enjoying what was going on but had done nothing to stop it. He did not hesitate to step closer to the prone form of Simon. He reached into the bucket with his gloved hand and started to fling the lime over the unfortunate young man who cried each time the powder landed on him. Simon had his eyes screwed shut where the power was already mixing with his tears. He started to scream.
'Stop it… you're all animals,' cried Constance, her voice cracking with emotion as Simon continued to cry out in pain.
Babin laughed, 'you ain't seen nothin' yet, love.'
Marcel, a sadistic grin causing his eyes to become small, picked up the bucket of water. He waited a fraction of a second for Babin's nod before carefully pouring the water over Simon, being sure not to simply wash the lime off him.
Simon gasped for a few seconds before his screams became loud again. D'Artagnan did not think he had ever heard such screams of terror and pain before. Simon writhed on the ground between them, his legs flailed about.
'Help him,' begged Constance who could not take her eyes off the young man.
The dampened lime was burning Simon's skin, blisters were forming and bursting as he moved about. In places, the skin was being rubbed raw by his involuntary movements. He was still screaming, barely pausing to take a breath. D'Artagnan was glad the man was moving about, it meant he did not have the chance to see the burns forming. D'Artagnan felt sick watching as more and more of Simon's skin turned to burns.
'Kill him,' shouted Constance. 'End his misery… have you no compassion…'
Babin laughed before going back to watching Simon.
It took several pain-filled minutes for Simon to stop moving. When he was finally still, he continued to whimper in long drawn out breaths. Each breath out was a moan of pain. His eyes were open, but the lime had left him blinded, his white smoky eyes were glazed.
The builders watched in silence for a few minutes. Constance was crying quietly. When Simon took his last breath and did not more anymore Babin stepped forward and spat at the body of the young man.
'I hope you enjoyed the show,' he said with a look towards his two captives. 'Leave him there, they wanted to take him, they can have him.'
The leader took a step to the side, he picked up the bucket of lime with a smirk as he looked at d'Artagnan. He pulled out a handful of the powder and flung it towards d'Artagnan who was forced to turn away to stop the powder getting on his face. Babin threw more of the powder towards d'Artagnan leaving him covered in the white substance. He looked at the bucket of water for a few seconds.
'Best get that refilled,' he said to one of the younger men who nodded and grabbed the bucket.
After a last look at Simon's body and a glance at both Constance and d'Artagnan, Babin turned and walked away. The other men followed slowly. Marcel was the last to go, he still had the sadistic grin on his face. D'Artagnan was filled with hate for all the men that had contributed to the deaths of Simon and his brother.
MMMM
Athos was the last of the four to reach the Old Dog tavern. The others were mounted up waiting.
'I take it you have some news?' asked Athos as he reined in his horse, bringing him to a stop by the Captain.
'Porthos found a man who knows where most of the building works are taking place just outside the city. We've been able to narrow it down with the help of a man Aramis talked to who knows which ones have lime kilns on site. There are three. I propose we start with the closest one and work our way through them.'
Athos nodded, 'well done, you certainly had more luck than I did.'
The taverns that Athos had visited were not the friendliest of places. He had managed to pick the more insular places where the traders were anti-establishment and believed they were taxed too much. Athos had not been able to get any information from the traders drinking in the taverns.
'They've been held for several hours now,' remarked Aramis, 'I only hope we are in time.'
'The men who took them would have to wait a while for a reaction. They did not leave any way for anyone to contact them. They must be planning to make contact again,' said Treville.
'We just have to hope they don't make contact in the same manner that they did earlier, with d'Artagnan or Constance slung over the back of a horse,' said Porthos grimly.
They cantered on for while the first building site was located along a track, Athos guessed that as the building work progressed the track would be widened and made more suitable for carriages. As they approached the site it became obvious the building work was in its very early stages the foundations were still being prepared.
'This is it,' said Porthos who was pointing to their left.
The lime pit had been dug a distance from the building works. They could not see d'Artagnan, but they could see Constance who was looking across to the men working on the foundations.
'Dear God,' muttered Aramis as more of the pit came into view.
D'Artagnan and Constance were both tied with chains. Constance at the wrists and d'Artagnan at both the wrists and ankles. D'Artagnan had been stripped of his doublet and boots. He was lying stretched across the pit. The sight between the two captives made Athos' stomach turn. A naked man lay contorted, his body covered in burns. The burns were the same as those on the body of the man that had been left outside the Palace earlier in the day. The man was obviously dead, his face twisted, his eyes milky white.
D'Artagnan was covered in a white powder that Athos recognised as the lime after it had been through the kiln.
'They have guns,' yelled d'Artagnan as he looked at the approaching Musketeers.
Athos focused on the builders who were rushing across the open area between their camp and the pit. The men, seven in total, were all armed. One of the men, reached the pit, he grabbed a bucket, he was about to throw the contents of it towards d'Artagnan but was stopped by a pistol ball going through his neck. The bucket fell from the man's hands as he reached up to clutch at his neck. As the bucket hit the side of the pit the water splashed forward into the pit towards d'Artagnan.
Constance screamed.
MMMM
Trigger warning: description of someone being burned to death with the lime. There's more burning in the next chapter as well.