Weighted Scales

Chapter 6

Porthos and D'Artagnan stood behind the decrepit looking inn as the night wore on. D'Artagnan struggled to maintain his patience.

The duo had followed one of Porthos' leads, which brought them to one of the poorer areas of Paris. The patrons of this establishment went to and from surreptitiously. The working girls on the street corner were more overt. The plied their trade and puckered their lips as they saw D'Artagnan and Porthos approach but quickly focused their attention elsewhere at the musketeers' grim countenance. Clearly they weren't looking for company.

"How much longer?" D'Artagnan muttered as he glanced up and down the alley they were waiting in by the kitchen's exit. He kicked an apple core that had been discarded and it bounced across the cobblestones. A rodent skittered away from the commotion.

Porthos didn't respond. His face had been grim and set since the trial began and Aramis was dragged blood stained into the court. Porthos knew that the dried blood had been a new addition to Aramis' costume and the tone of the testimonies that morning and the crowd's reaction to the lies about Aramis had further unsettled him.

D'Artagnan threw his hands up and growled his frustration, and as if on cue, the door to the kitchens opened. A young woman leant against the doorframe pulling the straps of her dress back over her shoulders.

"You Porthos?" she asked eyeing the tall Musketeer.

"Aye," he grunted. "Jeanette?"

"That's me," she said and pulled an ornate slender blade from her skirt pocket. "My brother Julian says you was lookin' for this," she said brandishing it playfully. Porthos held out his hand silently and she handed it to him. Her wide eyes watched as he and D'Artagnan examined the blade.

"Where did you get this?" D'Artagnan asked incredulously as he took the blade from Porthos and gently ran his finger along where the blade was missing its tip.

The girl grinned. "Haven't seen it before, but it's his. The Comte's. He comes to visit sometimes when he's in town. Doesn't want the others to know. Ashamed, he is. Doesn't bother me though, and he pays well – double so I'll keep quiet," she said and tossed her hair proudly. "I nicked it when he was sleeping. Took him a while to get to sleep. He was worked up, excited. Somethin' about beatin' some Comte or somethin'" she prattled. She inhaled suddenly seeing the rage grow in the musketeers' eyes.

"Put the blade back," Porthos instructed. "Make sure he has it on him tomorrow," he said and passed her a small bag of coins.

She took the bag and the blade and held out her hand again. "And for Julian?" she asked.

"Send the boy to the garrison and I'll give him his cut," Porthos said, and she pouted but nodded her agreement.

"Wait," said D'Artagnan, "If he pays you well, then why are you helping us?"

Jeanette adjusted her dress proudly. "I know what I am, an' I'm alright with that. I provide for myself and for two brothers and a sister. With this I'll be able to get us a place of our own so they won't have to grow up in this," she said gesturing over her shoulder. "He's a hypocrite. He may have money, but his words is cruel and he's fouler than I am. He's ashamed. And no one is gonna make me ashamed of takin' care of my family," she said, and tossing her hair once more, she turned and marched back into the kitchen, shutting the door behind her, leaving D'Artagnan speechless.

He exhaled slowly.

"We all do what we've got to to help the ones we love," said Porthos lowly. "Come on. Athos and Treville should be back by now. We should tell them about the blade."

oOo

The court was filled with an eerie excitement the next morning.

The Comte strode confidently towards the front of the room and took his seat. He spun his gold-topped cane in his hand, the light flashing off of its polished top. His dagger hung in its sheath at his side.

Aramis was led in, still bound, but looking much more like himself, though tired, in the clean shirt provided by the Queen.

He took the stand and the King rose to address the court once more.

"I was very moved by the events of yesterday. I trust that today's proceedings will transpire without the same interruptions. This is a court after all and I will not be swayed by outbursts," he said looking gravely at the assembled audience. Many present frowned deeply trying to determine the meaning behind the King's words. Were these aimed towards Christine and her comments at the close of court the day before or was this directed at the incendiary comments made by the Comte?

The King levelled his gaze on the Comte. "Comte de Gaulle, I thank you for your just questioning of your witnesses yesterday, as well as your recent contribution to our royal navy." If possible Athos frowned even more deeply at this. Aramis for his part did not react though inwardly his stomach plummeted at these words.

"It was my pleasure, your Majesty. As a loyal member of your court, I am honoured to contribute to the growing magnificence of France. My greatest regret is that my son will be unable to support your majesty in the same way that I have been honoured to. I trust that your Majesty will deliver a just judgement when the scales are set before him," said the Comte de Gaulle, his eyes travelling from the King to the face of Aramis, Christine and the other musketeers. Aramis felt a cold shiver crawl up his spine at the Comte's mention of scales.

"Well said my dear Comte," Louis said. "Aramis, as stated previously, you have been accused of the murder of the Viscomte de Gaulle. The court is waiting to hear your justification for such a heinous act – if such justification is possible."

Aramis straightened his shoulders and swallowed the grimace that this action caused as his injuries flared with pain. He glanced quickly towards where Christine stood with Treville and his brothers. Her bright eyes beamed back at him with strength and faith. He drew courage from that look as he began to address his King.

"My liege, I have no justification for my actions save for the truth of the event. It is true that we arrived at the manse of the Comte de Gaulle after being caught in the rain. Not wanting to delay the delivery of your missive, we were unable to change into fresh garments prior to meeting the Comte. The Viscomte was discomfited by our presence, but no hostile action was taken on the part of your musketeers while we were on the Comte's property. Following the successful delivery of your missive, as it was late, we retreated to the local inn to spend the evening prior to our departure in the morning. The Viscomte accosted us at the inn and challenged your lieutenant to a duel. Athos won," Aramis said. He was interrupted by a scoff from the Comte de Gaulle who obviously could not believe that his son could be defeated in a duel.

"Can you prove this?" asked the King casting his glance towards where Athos stood.

"Yes, sire. The local farrier witnessed the duel. He will testify to this," said Athos.

"Very well. But that doesn't explain why the Viscomte was killed."

"We departed early the next morning, eager to return to Paris. We were pursued. The Viscomte and a dozen men overtook us about an hour's ride from the city. A battle ensued. In the course of the battle, two of your musketeers were injured, sire. D'Artagnan's horse was killed from under him and he was injured in its fall. Porthos too took a nasty blow but was able to defend our brother. The Viscomte once more challenged Athos and was once again defeated."

"Preposterous!" interjected the Comte.

Aramis glared at him and continued. "Athos offered the Viscomte mercy. He turned his back on the man. It was at this point that the Viscomte plunged his blade into Athos' back. I fired on instinct in defence of my brother and your lieutenant, sire. It is my duty to honour the brotherhood of your musketeers and I fired in defence of the brother I love."

The room was quiet for a moment before the Comte spoke again. "This is all the fabrication of a blood crazed Spanish spy. These musketeers are present and accounted for, yet my son lies dead!"

Treville spoke out at this point. "What Aramis has said is true. He is one of the regiment's medics and treated the others of their injuries on the field. The blade broke in the attack on my lieutenant. Its tip was removed in a surgery performed upon their return to the infirmary."

The King nodded. "If what you say is true, the question remains: Do you regret your actions Aramis?"

Aramis hesitated. His eyes drifted once more towards Christine before he responded strongly, "No Sire, I do not regret my actions."

"You see?" shouted the Comte. "He admits it! He's a murderer!"

"I am not a murderer, but I do not regret my actions! Sire, I have been in your service since I was 16 years of age. The lives I have needed to take in my service to you are many. Do I regret these actions? No. I have never killed a man needlessly or outside of my duty to the crown. Do I regret that a life was lost and my hands were the ones to take it? Every time, sire. Every time. But I can swear to you that I have only ever killed out of necessity in defence of the crown or the innocent or my brothers-in-arms. I have spent my life in your service, fulfilling my duty as a musketeer." The room was silent as Aramis' earnest fervour washed over them.

"I know you to be a religious man, Aramis. Do you not find that your faith is in conflict with your duties as a musketeer?" the Queen asked softly.

Aramis frowned. "I do at times, my Queen. I find that I am only able to justify my actions as I said. They are done in the name of my duty to the crown or in defence of its peoples. I think that is also why I took up my role as a medic. I think…I feel…somehow… if I can help to save a life, it might make up for the times I've had to take one," he admitted sadly, casting his dark eyes downward. Christine felt her heart break at the honest confession of her husband.

The Queen smiled gently. "His Majesty and I are well aware of your work in the infirmary and the charitable acts that you have made a point of undertaking in addition to your other duties."

"Forgive me, my Lord, but does that justify a murder? Do alms pay for blood? Can a wolf not wear sheep's clothing?" The Comte shouted suddenly.

The King frowned. "I think the Queen –"

"Forgive me, my King, but the Queen is Spanish and the Comtesse des Etoiles is a close confidant of hers. It is unsurprising that she may have been influenced to excuse the actions of this wretch. My son was murdered, your majesty. Justice must be served," the Comte snarled, interrupting the King. The court gasped at his anger and insinuation. Porthos clenched his fists and Athos' eyes burned with pure hatred at the Comte.

"You have given me much to consider," the King said gravely, and Christine paled.

Treville stepped forward suddenly, bowing before the King. "My King, before you determine your decision I must say something."

Aramis' eyes went round.

"Go ahead Treville," the King said, gesturing for the Captain to rise.

"You Majesty, I have known Aramis for a lifetime. He was among the first men I recruited into your Majesty's regiment. His qualities helped to set the foundation for your Musketeers. He has been responsible for saving not only countless innocent lives, but those of his brothers-in-arms, your own and the Queen's, and my life as well. I have never questioned his devotion, honour or the completion of his duty. His actions, my Lord, were done to enforce the tenets of your regiment – dedication to honour, justice and loyalty to the crown and its people," Treville said passionately.

He paused then continued solemnly, his eyes locked onto those of the King. "The Musketeers' motto is 'all for one and one for all'. If Aramis is to be punished for following orders, for completing his duty that I assigned him and following the code that I demand from all of your men, then the punishment, my Lord, should be taken out on me."

"Captain! No!" gasped Aramis. The room had fallen silent.

"You would take on the punishment for this man? Whatever is decided? Why?" the King asked incredulously.

"I would, sire. He is like a son to me," said Treville determinedly.

"Your Majesty, no," Aramis pleaded. "I cannot let the Captain bear the burden of my actions. I swear I acted only in the fulfilment of my duty, but it was my hand that pulled the trigger. I take the responsibility. I will accept your decision, whatever it may be."

"Be quiet, soldier," Treville scolded.

"I will not, Captain. Not in this," said Aramis, his dark eyes blazing to meet the fiery blue ones of his Captain.

The King broke the stalemate between the two men. "We will take a recess. I have much to consider. Guards, return the Comte des Etoiles to his cell. We will reconvene in one hour."

oOo