A/N: So, Dear Readers, despite the sad news, we learn Silas's secret.
oOo
Chapter Seventeen
Athos had fallen silent at the news of Silas's passing.
Even the news of the return of both his horse and his sword had brought little comment, even though he was obviously relieved.
In empathy, the others left him alone with his thoughts. He had spoken little of his captivity, apart from his explanation to d'Artagnan as to why he was reluctant to retaliate, and the briefest replies to their questions.
Was it all for nothing? Had he made the wrong decision? Silas had pleaded with him to "hold his peace" at their first meeting. Silas had done that for a reason. Had he, himself, made the situation worse; giving the Vachons a channel for their brutality? So, would it have been better for them both to go down fighting? Perhaps that would be true, were it not for the information Silas had imparted before he left to find help. And he had found help. If not for Silas, would his brothers have found him? To die like that, alone, though, save for the hardest of men around him. Red Guards and brigands. That was the hardest to bear. Aramis had said he was aware that they three had gone in search of him and would most probably find him. Would Silas know that they would find Athos alive? Did Silas himself think it was worth it? All these thoughts went through his mind, in a never ending cycle and in the end, he apologised for his withdrawal but could not make small talk, nor pull his thoughts up from their melancholic depths. Neither could he accept their platitudes, however well meaning.
The hours he spent ruminating brought him no comfort, nor conclusion. How he wanted to speak to the old man once more.
He passed a restless night, troubled by dreams and frequently waking. As Notre Dame chimed its third bell, Athos felt that he was not, in fact, alone. His brothers had all crept into his room to watch over him. Finally, he fell into a fitful doze.
"Athos can cope with the beatings. He's got a broad back," Aramis said, quietly. "It's the humiliation that will have been hard. He is a proud man."
"Born proud," Porthos muttered.
"But this old man surely helped him?" d'Artagnan offered. "They protected each other."
"Independent too," Porthos added, still lost in his original thought.
"Very," Aramis concurred, casting a glance at d'Artagnan in acknowledgement of his statement. "It would take a special person to get through those noble barriers."
"This Silas must have 'ad somethin' about 'im," Porthos nodded.
They fell silent, so as not to disturb Athos, who remained asleep.
But Athos was not asleep, and had heard every word. As his brothers left a little while later, his hand curled tightly in the sheet and he turned his face into his pillow.
oOo
Breakfast in the small infirmary room was an equally sombre affair;Athos staring into space as the table was laid with food. A short time later, d'Artagnan rubbed an apple on his sleeve as Porthos put bread and meat on four plates and Aramis poured ale.
"I told him it was too far," Athos suddenly said.
They all stopped what they were doing and looked his way.
He was staring at them with anguished eyes.
"He wanted to help you, my friend," Aramis replied softly, knowing his friend would be angry at not being able to help the old man, and grieved at his passing.
"Before he left, he turned back at the door," Athos said, carefully. "He told me something. A secret, but it was an afterthought. Not the main reason he left. Maybe he had a premonition he would not return."
"What did he tell you?" Aramis asked, trying to make sense of Athos's muddled words.
Athos was quiet for a long moment. He had thought to leave it be, but he could not.
"Would one of you fetch the Captain?" Athos finally said. "You should all hear this. What I tell you will reflect either well on Silas, or badly. But I owe him this."
An uneasy silence fell in the room, as Athos waited for one of them to respond to his ominous words.
"I'll go," d'Artagnan said, pushing off the wall and striding quickly from the room, tossing the apple from one had to the other as he went.
oOo
Silas's Secret
"What's going on?" Treville said, as he stood in the doorway of the infirmary room a little later.
Everyone looked at Athos.
"I have something to tell you," Athos said, addressing them all. "Something that Silas told me, before he left to get help. As it turns out, it is his final wish," he added. "Although I will defer to you on the matter," he finished, looking at Treville.
Treville came slowly into the room, frowning at Porthos, d'Artagnan and Aramis. Porthos shrugged and pulled out a chair for Treville, who cautiously sat.
d'Artagnan slipped past the Captain to stand with his back to the window, hands tucked into his arms in his customary stance.
"It seems," Athos began, looking down at his hands, "That there is buried treasure in the barn."
No-one spoke, as his statement hung in the air.
"What?" Porthos blurted, totally taken aback at the revelation.
Athos sighed. He hoped he was doing the right thing in telling the tale, but Silas had singled him out to be the holder of the information. Silas was gone now and it befell to him to carry on where Silas had left off when the Vachons had first appeared.
"Silas buried a treasure cache in his barn," Athos explained. "Or should I say," he added, "The spoils of war."
"Where?" d'Artagnan enquired. "Nothing looked out of place. In fact," he added, "There was nothing there."
"He said it was buried under a cart," Athos replied, meeting their confused stares.
"The cart we brought here," Porthos concluded, looking at Aramis and d'Artagnan.
"Quite," Athos agreed, having heard the tale, told in fun, but now deadly serious, it seemed.
"As you know, Silas was a soldier," Athos continued. "When he came home ... when he was discharged," he corrected, "He did not come home empty-handed. He rebuilt the village with it. The whole area benefited. That is perhaps why the Tavern owner was amenable to finally seeking help."
"What, exactly did Silas say, Athos?" Treville prompted, leaning forward.
And so, Athos related what he knew of Silas's tale.
oOo
When Athos finished telling his Captain and his friends what Silas had quickly whispered to him that fateful morning before he left, no-one knew what to say.
It was Aramis who broke the silence.
He was agitated, though Athos was prepared for their reactions. He had had many thoughts about it himself, alone in the barn after Silas had gone. His main purpose, though, he decided, was to keep the information to himself. If the Vachons had discovered the cache, Silas's legacy would be forfeit. For that is how, after much heartache, Athos had come to see the cache.
"And you condone it?" Aramis said, incredulously.
Of all of them, he expected the most outspoken reaction to come from him.
Treville remained deep in thought, his arms crossed, as he prepared to listen to the ensuing argument.
"Yes!" Athos all but snarled, cutting off any further comment.
"In this case, yes," he continued, a little more subdued.
"I would have preferred to talk in more detail with Silas," Athos said, "But that is now not possible. Silas said the village was made up of old soldiers and their wives. That is why they could not defend themselves. That is why Silas did not want them to try. He sent them away until it was over, one way or another. There were no young men to fight. Silas gave succour to old comrades, Aramis. He had been using the money to help them. For years.
"So, in this case," he finished, in full flow now, "Yes, I condone it. For, if not them, who else would have taken it? The generals for their drapes and tapestries, furniture and fine cutlery? Or, for fine dresses for their wives and mistresses? Or the mercenaries of war, who ravaged the land?"
Aramis rubbed the back of his neck, his hand finally straying to the plain cross he wore around his neck.
"Or do you think the church should have it?" Athos said tersely, watching him. "To add to the coffers that sit behind locked doors, while people like Silas starve on their doorsteps?"
"Or the King, to fund more wars?" he hissed.
"Athos ..." Aramis chided, eyeing the Captain, worried that Athos was straying into dangerous territory; something he would normally never do.
Treville, however, remained silent, as Athos turned a hard gaze on Aramis.
"Let us beg to differ on this, Aramis," he said brusquely, ending the discussion.
In response, Aramis raised his eyebrows, but finally, in deference to Athos no doubt, and to the old man who had saved his village and his friend's life, Aramis let the matter drop. For now.
In the silence that followed, Treville took his leave and quietly slipped thoughtfully away.
"Athos ..." Aramis began, as soon as Treville had closed the door.
"Please," Athos interrupted. "No more." He looked at each of them, his eyes hollow. "Leave me to my thoughts, if you will."
Aramis stood his ground for a few moments, quietly assessing him. His friend was exhausted, bruised, sad and now, conflicted. He could see the emotions warring in his friend's face and body language. Silas had placed a burden upon him, but at least he had shared it. There would be no talking to him now though, although he had many questions and so he nodded in acquiescence and picked up his jacket. A discussion would be had though, it was inevitable.
As they filed from the room, they each reached out and gently touched Athos on the shoulder. He did not respond, though he did not repel them.
Later, single footsteps heralded someone's return.
Athos looked up warily as the door opened, and Treville looked in.
"May I?" he asked, tentatively.
Athos gave him the briefest of smiles, wondering what he had been told, after his earlier departure.
"That was quite a revelation," the Captain grunted, as he pulled a chair across and sat down, waiting.
"Imagine my initial reaction," Athos replied, gruffly.
Treville pulled at his earlobe and huffed.
"I can imagine," he said. "Do you know how Silas came to be possession of such plunder?"
Athos winced at the word. The Captain was right, however; it was, indeed, plunder.
"No, he did not have time to elaborate, although earlier in our acquaintance, when he spoke of the Battle of Arques, he said his comrades were "grateful to him."
Treville hummed, lost in thought.
"My apologies," Athos murmured, watching him.
"What are you apologising for?" Treville looked up sharply and pinned him with his famous steel-blue gaze.
"I have laid this problem at your door," Athos explained, quietly. "And I have no idea what to do. And so," he sighed, "I apologise once more, for being glad to relinquish it."
Treville laughed.
"I have had worse problems to deal with," he conceded. "Although a considerable number of them "came to my door," from you four," he added.
"I ..." Athos began, only to be stopped by Treville's raised hand.
"Don't apologise again. Twice in one day is enough," he growled.
Athos shifted. His knee thrummed and the stitches in his thigh sent a bolt of heat through him, but he hardly noticed in the scheme of things.
"What will you do?" he ventured.
"At this moment, I have no idea," Treville admitted, rubbing the stubble on his jaw.
They sat in silence for a few moments, before Athos asked the question, that, for Silas's sake, he dreaded.
"Will you return it?"
Treville sat back, the chair creaking under his weight, a deep frown on his face. Finally, his gaze lightened and he reached out his hand and laid it lightly on Athos's arm. He had heard Athos's argument with Aramis earlier, and it had played on his mind as he had sat in his office.
"Return what?" he finally replied. "And, after the passing of so many years, to who?"
Athos breathed out, his features softening for the first time that day.
"My thoughts exactly," he replied, softly.
"But I have thought on it," Treville added, "I would like to look into Silas's military record," he said. "Depending upon the outcome, I would like to share any findings with you."
Athos was encouraged by his Captain's words, and tilted his head in agreement. Whatever the Captain found out, however, would either cast Silas in a positive light, or a negative one.
With that silent understanding between them, Treville produced half a bottle of cognac from his jacket.
"In the meantime," he said, "I think we can offer a "medicinal" toast to the old man, for his care of you. Captain's orders."
"I would like that," Athos smiled.
Treville reached across for two cups that were on the bedside table, shook them out, and poured two generous amounts.
"The rest of his tale," Treville added, "Will no doubt come soon enough."
To be continued ...