Chapter Twenty Two
The Garrison:
Aramis was shouting at the guard before they had reached the archway, Porthos close behind him.
"Where is Athos!" he shouted urgently, as the guard came forward and peered down at him.
"He left with d'Artagnan. 'Bout an hour ago or more," the guard called back, unnerved by their obvious agitation.
"What do you mean! Where did they go?" Aramis demanded. "Athos could hardly walk and d'Artagnan was supposed to be watching him!"
"Said they were going to Athos's rooms," the man called down, confusion written across his face.
Aramis pushed his hand through his hair in exasperation and turned to Porthos. Before he could speak, the guard called down again.
"I pointed the Apothecary's assistant there," the guard shouted. "You just missed him."
"What?" Aramis frowned, confused by this new information.
"He had a bottle of laudanum," the guard explained. "Said his master wanted to ensure Athos got it personally."
"I know nothing of this," Aramis muttered, shaking his head and turning to Porthos. "Only the physician and myself order laudanum and we have a plentiful supply in the Infirmary."
"So you told him where Athos lives?" Porthos called to the guard.
From his perch above them, the guard looked a little abashed.
"He had the laudanum and the paperwork," the guard argued.
"What's going on?!" Aramis said, turning to Porthos.
"Maybe it's legit?" Porthos pondered.
"You think?" Aramis murmured, not wanting to considered the alternative.
"Don't know but we better find out," Porthos replied and they both started running along the busy thoroughfare that led to the Rue Ferou.
The sight of two Musketeers charging hell for leather toward them made people scatter before them. Women pulled children into their arms and traders leaned across their tables to protect their wares.
oOo
"You are missing your brother's execution," Athos said, giving Raymond his usual bland stare.
"Oh, we said our goodbyes at the tavern," Raymond replied, pulling out his dagger. "They both took it well. They know I like my revenge when someone has wronged me."
Athos almost laughed, but it turned into a groan. He tucked his hand tighter under his arm to soothe his ribcage.
"I think you will find it was you who wronged me," he replied, curtly.
Raymond's eyes fell on the red hat on the arm of Athos's chair.
"Oh dear, did the old man not make it?" he sneered. "Did Silas drop dead? He didn't look too good, last time I saw him. Before they took me off to The Chatelet," he added angrily.
"He died an honourable death," Athos replied, tersely. "Which is more than you will do."
"Well, see, I haven't got long," Raymond said. "There's a ship in the harbour, and if I make haste, I will be on it and away by nightfall."
His hand tightened on a pistol he had taken from the Apothecary's shop. He had smirked when he found it. The man had had no chance to reach into the drawer for it. Perhaps he would have had a quicker death if he had, though Raymond had taken considerable pleasure in squeezing the life from him.
"You and me, though," he said thoughtfully, "We've got unfinished business. Trouble is, I like to take my time, Athos. Those brothers of mine were much too quick to kill."
"So you said," Athos replied, flatly, remembering the man's words to Henri that morning in the barn.
"Henri was right, though," Raymond added. "You are a bold one. You should have had a slow death, they way we left you. When the Red Guard said a Musketeer patrol was riding to rescue you, I had hoped they would find you dead. Had I known they were so close, I would have slit your throat."
"Musketeers don't die easily," Athos bit out, his voice low and deadly.
Raymond smiled slyly and raised his pistol as he took a step closer to Athos.
"Oh, I agree," Raymond laughed. "You won't die easily. Not the way I intend to deal with you."
oOo
Outside, Aramis and Porthos covered the distance that Athos walked every morning in double quick time. They rounded the corner toward the Rue Ferou, within sight of the upper floor of Athos's lodgings a little ahead of them.
They looked around. People were going about their business, as usual. Nothing seemed amiss.
Inside his lodgings, Athos tensed, adrenaline beginning to thrum through his body.
oOo
"I do so like a slow death," Raymond said quietly, licking his lips.
"So do I," a voice behind him suddenly said.
Whirling around, Raymond saw the young man give him a brief smile before he fired. The ball flashed through the air in a blast of gunpowder and smoke.
Raymond's eyes went wide with surprise as the ball found its mark. He clawed at his chest before sinking to his knees. Athos's dagger, hidden under his arm and thrown at the same time as d'Artagnan fired, was buried to the hilt in his throat.
"But we can't have everything, can we?" d'Artagnan smiled, as Raymond choked, his ruined throat pouring blood.
Neither man moved as the man began to fall backward, terrible noises escaping him.
Athos raised his eyes from Raymond to his friend, framed in the doorway to the back room. They both nodded once, as their quarry fell silent.
Athos shifted and stretched out his good leg, kicking Raymond's knee with his foot. Quite dead, thanks to his dagger, and d'Artagnan's musket ball buried in his chest.
"The German mercenaries tried subterfuge," Athos said, looking at d'Artagnan, now leaning in the doorway. "They pretended to defect. The Swiss Guard fell for it, and they were defeated."
"Subterfuge is good," d'Artagnan nodded in agreement.
"It would seem so," Athos agreed.
"I made sure I was seen, as you asked," d'Artagnan said, then. "If we were being watched."
"It appears we were," Athos said, straightening, suddenly not as infirm as he had pretended. Certainly their protracted journey to the Rue Ferou gave plenty of time to be observed.
"You were right," d'Artagnan smiled, stowing his cooling pistol in his belt.
Athos and d'Artagnan exchanged a satisfied look, before the sound of familiar footsteps on the outer stairway told them their brother's arrival was imminent. Aramis almost flung himself into the room, followed by an out-of-breath Porthos.
At the sight of Raymond dead before them, and his brothers - both very much alive - Aramis sagged with relief.
Pulling up a chair, he dropped into it.
"You both said you were staying in the Infirmary!" he gasped.
d'Artagnan smirked.
"He was going a little stir crazy," he replied, tilting his head toward Athos. "He's been telling me about the Battle of Arque."
"Has he," Porthos muttered darkly from the doorway, before sliding down the wall.
Aramis's eyes suddenly went wide.
"You knew Raymond would come for you!" Aramis suddenly cried. "You knew he wouldn't come for his brothers. How?"
Athos's eyes slid to the corpse on his floor.
"He was not that kind of brother," he said softly.
He looked over toward d'Artagnan.
"It is a shame your errand for wine was a subterfuge too," he said. "The walk here has taken all my strength."
At Athos's confession, Aramis suddenly began to search Raymond's body, suspecting it was not weakness that ailed him, but pain.
"Well, it seems you two are not the only ones who planned a deceit," he smiled in triumph.
Pulling a small box from Raymond's pocket, Aramis removed the lid and showed them the glass phial.
"Laudanum, hopefully," he said, carefully pulling the cork and sniffing the contents.
Normally, Athos may have been reluctant to take such a drug unless it was absolutely necessary but the morning had taken its toll, and Raymond owed him, dammit. So, in the absence of wine, he reached out his hand toward Aramis.
"Only half," Aramis said firmly, as he watched Athos raise it to his lips.
Further inspection of Raymond's body revealed the letterhead from the apothecary's shop. Aramis looked over at Porthos, who took the parchment. It was easy to see how their guard had been fooled. They would send someone to the establishment when they got back, though sadly, neither doubted that they would find Simon Archambeau in good health.
Raymond had taken no chances.
If the Musketeer guard had searched him, his story would hold firm and Athos would have been at his mercy, the Garrison thinned due to the executions. Aramis crouched in from of Athos and retrieved the half empty phial, resting his hand on Athos's knee.
"You sent us away on purpose," he persisted, searching Athos's face, before turning to d'Artagnan.
"Do not blame him," Athos interrupted. "We agreed on a plan but I never intended that we confront Raymond together."
"Then you should lock your back door," d'Artagnan said, holding up Athos's key. "That was part of our plan I couldn't agree with," he smirked. "Subterfuge is good, but I would always have your back," he added, sincerely.
"Yes, perhaps I should have," Athos replied, raising an eyebrow at the key in d'Artagnan hand. "Thank you, on both counts."
Aramis and Porthos were looking confused, and Athos took pity on them. "I will explain later," he said, "back at the Garrison."
"How are you feeling?" Aramis asked, catching sight of the red hat beneath Athos's hand.
Athos looked once more at the body on his floor.
"At peace," he whispered.
Aramis followed his gaze. Raymond lay staring sightlessly at the ceiling, a blade and a musket ball finally avenging Silas and his friends.
"Excessive," Aramis murmured, grimacing at the gruesome sight.
Athos's hand curled around the red hat.
"No mercy," he growled.
"No mercy," his three comrades all agreed, as one.
To be continued ...