As Aramis continued to silently watch, the hooded men, now dismounted, spread out and began going over every part of the clearing.
Were they just going back over all the places hey had already searched, hoping they had missed something, or had they come back on a hunch after talking things over with each other, he wondered.
He had no idea, but he and d'Artagnan were unarmed, wounded and without horses, so it behooved them to keep as silent as possible, and hope their hideout remained hidden well enough that it would escape notice.
Just as it looked like they were coming to the end of their search, they started to build a campfire, pulling supplies from their saddlebags. Hanging them over the campfire in a pot they also produced, they squatted around the fire and waited for their midday meal to heat.
After they had eaten, Aramis hoped that they would be finished in the area and move on. But they spread out more,and continued searching.
Aramis glanced back from time to time to make sure d'Artagnan wasn't beginning to stir, but he was still sound asleep, for which he was very grateful.
Finally, after what seemed to take forever, the men met back in the middle of the clearing, mounted, and slowly rode out of the clearing.
Once they were out of sight, the marksman took a deep breath, letting it out slowly in relieft. The feeling of helplessness was not one he had felt very often, and definitely didn't like. He sent up a silent prayer that his other brothers would find them soon.
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Athos and Porthos continued at a fast pace down the road, listening for sounds of pursuit behind them. Their luck held for another couple of miles, but almost inevitably, their pursuers could be heard thundering behind them.
Porthos' attention was divided. Guiding their mount one-handedly, his other was wrapped around his semi-conscious brother, Athos' full weight now leaning over his arm. Glancing down, Porthos sadly saw eyes closed against a deathly pale face.
They had no other option than to continue the way they were going. There were no side roads to veer off onto, and nothing presented itself as a possible hiding place.
The sounds of their enemies behind them were growing closer now, as the Musketeers were at a disadvantage riding two to a horse, which slowed them down.
His hearing fixed on what was happening behind them, Porthos didn't at first notice a new sound. When he did, he almost despaired. There was now the distinct sound of a group of riders coming their way from in front of them! How could the riders have split and tried to sandwich them on this narrow road? He had already observed that there were no other trails, no possible diversions.
Glancing down at his now completely unconscious brother, he vowed silently, "I will defend you with my bare hands with the last ounce of my blood."
He stopped the horse and as gently and yet as quickly as he could, maneuvered Athos down and carried him to the nearest tree. Athos was still unconscious, and unare of their danger. Laying him on the ground in front of it, he positioned himself in front of him and waited.
But the riders coming around the bend from in front of him were the last things he expected to see.
Flinging his hands high over his head, he got up to his feet, shouting, "Captain!," with a smile of pure joy on his face now.
"Porthos!" Treville responded, leaping down from his horse almost before he had halted it and moving rapidly to his man's side. Worry filled his face as he beheld Athos' bloody body lying so still on the groun before him. "What happened to him?"
Porthos filled him in, short and to the point.
Treville turned and called to one of the men with him. "Bernard just joined us a few days ago. He has had a bit of medical experience on the battlefield as a makeshift medic in the infantry. Had no idea it would be needed so quickly."
The man got to work quickly on Athos. As luck would have it, Athos began to regain consciousness right after he started, as much as they wished he hadn't. They had no wish to put him through more agony than he was already in. A deep groan alerted them that he was back with them.
"Athos," Treville said softly. "You're safe now," trying to reassure him.
Blinking rapidly, half-awake and his face showing his confusion, Athos said in a barely audible voice, "Captain?"
"Yes, Athos. You're safe. Let my man treat your back. Just lie still. He will take care of you."
"Aramis?" Athos' voice held a note of deserate hope that it was his missing brother his captain had brought with him.
"No, Athos, this is Bernard. But he has a little experience. Let him take care of you, please." Athos' face fell when he heard that Aramis hadn't been found yet. Athos, even half-conscious, knew that if he had been, no one would have had a chance to take care of him but the marksman.
Bernard, a wiry, dark-haired man in his thirties, worked as quickly and gently as he was able, cleaning the mess that the dagger had made. He had no sooner touched Athos back, however, when the injured swordsman groaned, letting out his breath in a hiss from the pain.
When Bernard immediately stopped, he said, "S...Sorry. Continue," closing his eyes in preparation to enduring it. Bernard finished cleaning the wounds, spreading a salve on them and then bandaging got his own spare shirt from his saddlebad, and he and Porthos carefully put it on Athos, laying him back down on his side when they were finished.
Afterwards, Bernard asked Porthos, "What did they do to him?"
Porthos filled him in and Bernard, even having been a veteran soldier, blanched.
Porthos added, "But he never gave his brothers away, any more than we would have done so."
Walking a short distance away from his brother with Treville, Porthos said, "Captain, we need to find Aramis and d'Artagnan. We have no idea if these men were the only ones sent, or if they are part of a bigger group. They are in great danger."
"We will, we will, Porthos," Treville reassured him. "Re-arm yourself from our supplies, and get an hour's rest. Bernard will take Athos to the nearest village and get a room for him at an inn. Then, we ride."
But he had reckoned without the sharp hearing of his lieutenant stubbornly hanging on to consciousness. When Treville had finished speaking, a very weak voice spoke up.
"I am...coming...with you to...find A...Aramis and d'Artagnan."'
Treville and Porthos were completely startled, turning to find Athos trying to push himself up to a sitting position.
Porthod deferred to Treville to answer Athos. Treville spoke softly, but firmly. "Athos, do you have any idea how badly you are injured? You won't even be able to sit on a horse, much less ride. And you would risk your back starting to bleed again. Just go with Bernard to an inn, and let us..."
He didn't get any further, as Athos spoke up again, quietly but adamant in his objection to being left behind. "Whether I accompany you or obtain a horse at some inn, I will continue the search for my brothers. There is a reason we say 'one for all', Captain."
Treville was silent for a few momentws. He greatly repected his Inseparables, and knew how much they loved each other, realizing it had to be Athos' own decision.
Looking Athos in the eyes, he said, "I will not order you not to come. But we will be riding hard, Athos. You, more than anyone else, know if you think you can do it. We will be leaving in one hour. Please get a little rest."
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An hour later they rode out, with one minor adjustment. Athos was again riding with Portho. Porthos, sometimes could be just as stubborn and insistent as his brothers. He had spoken to Athos privately later after Treville had spoken, and told his brother that if he caused them to halt from searching for Aramis and d'Artagnan, he was going to be very upset. Then, he told Athos that he wouldn't be upset, as long as he agreed to continue riding in front of himself, like they had previously been doing.
Porthos could tell Athos was not happy to agree to his proposal, but he didn't care. He intended to bring all of his brothers home again in one piece, one way or the other. If threatening to be angry with Athos would cause him to give in, then he would use the fact to protect him from the risk of further injury. A little smile playing about the corners of his mouth, he urged his horse forward as they set off on their search.
They had decided to retrace their way back along the same trail Athos and Porthos had come before they were captured first. Maybe they might find a clue to go on that they had missed before.
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Aramis stayed at the cave opening to make sure the men didn't return. He had been gradually becomnig more and more lightheaded for some time now, and his body had grown more shaky.
Finally convinced that the men weren't returning, Aramis, who was exhausted and fighting himself to stay awake, got slowly to his feet to head back and join d'Artagnan in getting some more sleep, only he didn't make it that far. After three or four steps, dizziness overcame him and, without a sound, his knees buckled. He was out before he even hit the ground.
That is where d'Artagnan found him an hour later when he awoke. Alarm overwhelmed him when he saw his brother face down in the dirt. Rolling him over, he checked his pulse. He calmed down when he found it, even though it was a little erratic.
He lifted him a little, settling him into a more comfortable position. Then, he checked the wound in his side, finding it a little inflamed. Probably from lying on the dirt, he thought, with not even a blanket to use. Tearing another strip from his already ripped shirt, he used a little of the water he had brought up the day before to clean the wound area. Then, he re-wrapped it. Aramis never stirred the whole time he worked on him.
He decided when Aramis woke up again, he would put one of the fish he had caught the day before on a thin branch, so they would have a halfway decent meal in their stomachs two days in a row. Maybe they would regain a little of their strength. He might even see if he could find some berries later, too, to go with the fish.
Heading over to the cave entrance, he had just pulled the branches aside, when he froze, hearing horses approaching. Looking out, he saw horses entering the clearing, ridden by men in hoods.
He no sooner thought to himself 'not again!', when he heard a voice say, "Well, well, well. What have we here. A hiding place!" seeing the man's face lifted and looking directly at their now-revealed hiding place.