Chapter Fourteen
Later, when they had reported the good news of Athos's return to Treville and had eaten all the food that was on the table, they all settled together once more and talk inevitably turned to their friend's captivity.
"That was quite a detour you took," Porthos said, as he piled empty plates and cups onto the trays.
"My horse threw a shoe," Athos murmured, wearily. "I had hoped to find a blacksmith."
"What you found," Porthos replied. "Was the Vachon brothers. Scourge of the neighbourhood apparently. The Red Guard had patrols out."
"That explains why they were still at liberty," Athos said, gritting his teeth as Aramis moved his arm in order to re-bandage his wrists. "Were they known to us?" he added.
"No," Aramis replied. "We only found out when aggrieved landowners petitioned the King."
"An' then, he took his time respondin'" Porthos finished. "I think Richelieu 'oped his Guard would mop them up before Treville found out."
Athos huffed derisively at that.
"Treville received a directive while we were away on our individual missions," Aramis concluded. "By that time, your absence was concerning us."
"What did they want from you?" d'Artagnan ventured.
Aramis continued to re-wrap Athos's wrists as the question was asked, not looking up. Tying a knot, he pushed himself to his feet and moved to the table, where he ladled some broth into a bowl, before bringing it back and sitting with in his hands.
Athos was exhausted; his thoughts muddled. Any movement of his arms caused excruciating pain and his breathing, by necessity, was shallow. He looked contented though, and so they were enjoying their time with him.
"Nothing," he replied, thoughtfully. "Just a little sport."
Athos did have information. A Musketeer on his own was either going on a mission, or returning from one. Either way, there was information to be had. But it was, as he said, that these men wanted nothing but entertainment. They wanted an avenue for their drunkenness. Ultimately, they wanted to hurt someone. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Aramis stirred the broth before offering the spoon up to Athos. Athos looked from the spoon to Aramis and sighed, before opening his mouth. This was the second bowl that Aramis was foisting on him, the first one being not long after he had woken and was still compliant. He soon realised however, that he would be dependant upon his friends for some days, his most comfortable position being to remain completely still.
"Did they give you water?" d'Artagnan continued.
"Not to drink, no," Athos replied, flatly.
He had memories of being doused, when he was punched or when he fell, exhausted. When the sword bit into his leg a little too deeply.
His fingers reached carefully down to rest gently on his bandaged thigh at the memory.
"And, when did the beatin' start?" Porthos asked him, standing by the window with his arms folded, and a glower on his face.
Athos dutifully swallowed another spoonful of broth.
"When I stopped walking," he replied.
"Walking?" d'Artagnan asked.
"Around the barn."
"So …?" Aramis encouraged, the spoon returned to the bowl.
"When I stopped walking," Athos explained. "They endeavoured to encourage me."
"Not like you to be encouraged," Porthos grunted.
Athos's testimony explained the trail of blood d'Artagnan had found around the edge of the interior of the barn.
Athos raised his eyes to look at Porthos, one so badly swollen it was still almost shut.
"They would have killed the old man," Athos replied, frowning.
"Old man?" Aramis asked, gently.
"Silas," Athos replied, suddenly more alert. "He owned the barn. He helped me. Then, when we thought all was lost, he left to walk to the next village to raise the alarm."
Aramis looked across at Porthos. Silas. It was the name Athos had used in the barn. At the time, they didn't understand, and Athos was in no condition to enlighten them.
"We saw an old man," Aramis said, cautiously. "Talking to the Red Guard patrol. One arm, red hat?"
"Yes. Silas," Athos repeated.
"Was he in on it?" Porthos asked from his place by the window.
"No!" Athos exclaimed, waving away Aramis's attempt at another spoonful of broth. "He had no choice. But he knows them. Give him protection and I am sure he will give you names."
"We believe your assailants were the Vachon brothers, Athos," Aramis replied.
He explained then the circumstances of how he, Porthos and d'Artagnan had joined the patrols seeking the outlaws and that it was only when they came across a contingent of Red Guard that they discovered where he was being held.
"Are they in custody?" Athos asked, looking sharply from Aramis to Porthos.
"We don't know." Aramis admitted. "The Captain is due to meet with Richelieu later. He will have news on his return, no doubt.
"And Silas?" Athos asked, frowning.
The three looked at each other.
"There is something you are not telling me," Athos said. "What is it?"
"I believe the Red Guard intended to take the old man to The Chatelet," Aramis replied, raising the spoon once more. "As a witness. That's all we heard."
"You did not intervene?" Athos said. Staring at each of them in return.
"Had no reason to," Porthos replied. "He wasn't under arrest. They just told him to wait for their return."
"And we had other things on our minds," Aramis added, pointedly.
"He is innocent," Athos continued. "They will burn his barn to the ground if they think he has talked. Do not let that happen. The barn is a great asset to the community."
"Hopefully, they will be in custody by now. And there is no community, Athos." Aramis said, gently. "From what we saw, they have all gone."
"You must speak up for the old man, Aramis," Athos urged. "He played no part in this."
"As you wish, my friend,"Aramis calmed him. "I will speak to Treville. As I say, he has an audience with Richelieu. I am sure he can petition the King on your behalf. Wherever Silas is, we will find him."
"I need to speak to Treville," Athos insisted, becoming agitated. "I need to tell him what happened. I need to know what has happened!"
"Peace, Athos. Rest now," Aramis urged. "I will go and ask him to come and see you."
"Now, Aramis," Athos all but demanded.
Aramis smiled.
"I'm on my way. Rest, Athos," Aramis insisted, as he pulled the sheet up over his shoulder, and plumped his pillows.
Looking behind him at d'Artagnan and Porthos, he signalled that they should all leave Athos now. He wasn't sure how much was confusion or actual fact on Athos's part, but they weren't helping matters. Putting the bowl of broth down, he waited while they took their leave of Athos, and then he fell in behind them, giving Athos a final reassuring nod, before leaving him.
"Maybe we should have ..." d'Artagnan said, turning around when they were outside. It was he who had taken off at the first mention of Athos's name.
"We weren't to know," Aramis interrupted, although he had been having similar uneasy thoughts. "The Captain will find out the truth of it."
In the infirmary, Athos closed his eyes and tried to make sense of the last few days.
oOo
True to his word, Aramis sought out Treville.
"Athos has spoken of an old man, Silas Marchant, Captain. Apparently he helped him. Considerably."
Treville was preparing to go to the Louvre to deliver Baron de'Bouvier's contract to the Cardinal.
"Who is this man?" Treville asked, shuffling through other papers he would be taking with him.
"According to Athos, he owned the barn. We did see him briefly when we came upon the Red Guard talking to the tavern patron. That man rode off with the Red Guard but the old man was ordered to remain behind, in order to identify the Vachon brothers when the arresting party returned. Presuming the Vachons were arrested, it's possible that they took the old man to the Chatelet. Athos is concerned that an innocent man may be caught up in this. The Chatelet is no place for an old man, Captain."
Treville listened intently, his fingers drumming on his desk.
"The Cardinal will no doubt know whether his Guard were successful. He would expect no less," he said. "I will make enquiries about the old man. If he helped Athos, I can see why he is concerned."
"Well, you know Athos," Aramis sighed. "If we cannot find out, he will attempt to do so himself."
Treville sighed.
"According to Dr Lemay, he is in no fit state to leave his bed."
"You and I both know that, Captain," Aramis agreed. "But Athos will need to be reminded of the fact as often as possible, unless we can reassure him."
"Then perhaps," Treville replied, "He should be reminded, in no uncertain times, that he is not the only one who can prize information from His Eminence and his Red Guard, and equally, that a direct order from his Commanding Officer is not to be ignored."
Aramis looked relieved as he stepped back, allowing Treville to stride past him, on his way to see his Lieutenant.
oOo
Athos must have fallen asleep, for, when he opened his eyes again, d'Artagnan was sitting at the table and Treville was sitting at his bedside.
"Athos, I am glad to see you," his Captain said, his steel-blue gaze intently taking in his soldier's bruised face and bandaged chest. "You had us worried. If the worst had happened, you would have been sorely missed."
"I need to find out about Silas," Athos replied, getting straight to the point of what was irking him.
"So I understand," Treville said. "I have an audience with the Cardinal later to deliver the Baron's contract. You did an excellent job there, Athos. I am sure he will appreciate it. I'll look into what has become of your assailants. Put this business from your mind now."
"And Silas," Athos urged.
"Agreed," Treville said, before leaning forward. "Take your recovery seriously. Heed Aramis, in whatever he asks of you. He has my full backing. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Captain."
"It will be a grave error on your part if you fall back on our agreement."
Treville left, satisfied he had made his point.
Athos irritably pulled at the sheet with his good hand. d'Artagnan watched for a while, before finally, Athos looked up and pinned him with a withering glare.
"You have something on your mind, d'Artagnan," he said. "What is it?"
d'Artagnan shifted uncomfortably under his mentor's unwavering gaze.
"I don't understand," he said, eventually.
"What is it you do not understand?" Athos fired back, maintaining his fixed stare.
"There were only three of them," d'Artagnan finally replied, looking down.
"That is true," Athos replied, flatly.
"I have seen you best twice as many men," d'Artagnan said, looking up. "And triumph."
Athos sighed and looked away. He had wondered it himself many times, while tied to the post. He had railed against it and had roared his fury into the dark shadows of that barn. Ultimately, it came down to one thing.
"They would have killed him, d'Artagnan," he finally replied. "An old one-armed man. A war veteran. And they would have made me watch. I could not have that on my conscience."
An uneasy silence fell over them, before d'Artagnan raised his head and spoke;
"So you let them hurt you."
Athos's eyes flicked back to d'Artagnan, at that statement. A range of emotions played across the young man's face.
Athos had forgiven d'Artagnan his youth many times. Here was another example, laid bare.
"Well," Athos huffed, now looking mildly amused, "I hope I put up a fight," he said, almost to himself. "Half these injuries were almost self inflicted."
d'Artagnan thought it over for a few moments, and then a slow smile of understanding spread across his face. Point taken.
"Besides," Athos continued, "They were drunk a lot of the time. Their blows were not as accurate as they could have been."
It was d'Artagnan's turn to huff; the blows looked pretty accurate to him. He sobered then, one final thought on his lips.
"We could have missed you," he said, his eyes shining. "We were so close to riding past."
"I am grateful that you did not," Athos replied, shifting his leg and grimacing. "Let us talk of it no more."
The conversation at an end, d'Artagnan rose and filled a cup with watered ale. Walking over, he helped Athos to take a few sips.
Placing the cup on the table next to the bed, d'Artagnan turned.
"So," he said, a smile spreading across his face as he dropped into the chair that Treville had vacated. "Tell me about Silas."
To be continued ...