Porthos stayed with Aramis for the rest of the night, even though his brother looked like he had finally fallen into a restful sleep. Porthos began to nod off as well.
Aramis woke again in the wee hours of the morning, the image of the bloodied doublet coming to his mind soon after he was alert. He lay with his eyes closed, pondering his dilemma.
He didn't know what to do. His heart told him to give himself up to save d'Artagnan's life. But he also wasn't naive, and knew the men holding him weren't to be trusted to keep their word. They could very well kill d'Artagnan as well as himself. He also didn't want to betray his brothers by taking off after they had been doing everything they could to protect him.
But it was a chance he had to take, and he knew his brothers would understand his motives, even though they would be boiling angry with him, as well. He couldn't just stand by with one of his brothers' lives at stake. The hooded men had shown no hesitation in torturing Athos, and threatening d'Artagnan to force hi to come to them. There really wasn't another option that he could think of.
He would willingly sacrifice his life for any of his brothers. He loved them. He also knew that they felt exactly the same about him, which was why it was going to be extremely difficult to find a way to elude their protection in order to help d'Artagnan. He didn't want them to discover his 'escape' and follow him. Not only could it cause the hooded men to kill d'Artagnan anyway if they became aware of it, but it could also bring about the deaths of Athos and Porthos, as well.
But being the naturally conficent man he was, he was sure he would come up with a way that would work. He just didn't have much time to devise that plan.
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D'Artagnan tried to be patient, hoping the young man would come to his cell without his brother. He had seen the compassion in his eyes, and it had triggered a sense of hope he had almost given up on. He had to get to Aramis before the marksman sacrificed himself to free him.
Time seemed to inch along, like a caterpillar moving slowly on the ground making it's way to whatever caterpillars do all day long. Just as he was figuring it wouldn't be today, he heard footsteps-a single pair and lighter than Mattieu's, he thought excitedly.
Then, he saw the young man pull a key ring out of his pocket and unlock the cell door. Crossing rapidly to d'Artagnan and kneeling down, he reached behind the Gascon's head to undo the gag. D'Artagnan let out a long sigh of relief when it came off and licked his lips, his mouth terribly thirsty. The young man took a small container of water from where it was attached on his waist, and lifting d'Artagnan's shoulders, helped him to drink from it.
"i can't cut you loose yet. They are on the other side of the property right now, so I figured it would be safe to come down for a few minutes. I'm sorry for what they did to you."
D'Artagnan said, in a voice that was dry from disuse, "Will you help me, please? I can't be the cause of my brother's death."
The young man said, "Not yet. They plan to go to town tomorrow or the next day. I volunteered to guard you," he said with a small smile. "Then I will help you to escape. But you have to take me with you. They will kill me when they find out, even my brother."
D'Artagnan almost groaned. More waiting! But it was the only chance he had. He just hoped it wouldn't be too late. "What is your name?" he asked him.
"Laurent," the young man responded. "I don't know yours, either."
"It's d'Artagnan," the Gascon told him. "I will try to be as patient as I can til you can free me."
Laurent told him, "I don't dare stay longer. They will be back. I'm sorry. I have to gag you again," and d'Artagnan nodded reluctantly, knowing he was right.
When the cloth was once more in place, Laurent headed for the cell door, locking it behind him, and looking back at d'Artagnan with an expression almost of hope. That young man is as desperate to escape as I am," d'Artagnan realized as the silence once more settled around him like a gloomy black fog.
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Aramis spent the day with his brothers, sharing meals at their table, and teasig some of the cadets as the went through their training in the compound.
Every once in a while, he would become very solemn, his eyes misting over and Athos and Porthos knew he was thinking about d'Artagnan.
Treville had every available man scouring Paris, but Athos and Porthos' assignment remained to guard Aramis. The three of them would have been hunting, too, but not that day, with a street carnival going on close the garrison. It would have given the hooded men too easy an opportunity to attempt something.
Instead, they were all confined to the garrison by order of Treville, who refused to bend on the matter.
By suppertime, they were a very frustrated threesome as they sat and ate their supper.
"Treville doesn't think we can defend ourselves?" Porthos growled.
"Porthos, you know he has a very good reason for his order," Athos chided him.
"There would be too many witnesses to try anything in the streets today," Porthos objected.
"Porthos." Athos knew it was just the inaction that was driving the big man crazy. Porthos would never risk his brother's life. He just couldn't stand being confined.
A cup slammed down onto the table causing their attention to veer in Aramis' direction. When Athos' eyebrow rose in question, Aramis raiseed his voice as he said,
"I don't need watching. I'm a grown man surrounded by the walls of this garrison. How much safer could I be?"
Athos, recognizing frustration of another sort, spoke softly in direct contrast to his friend's outburst. "Aramis, you know and we know that you do have a somewhat reckless nature at times. You feel it is your fault that d'Artagnan is being threatened, and you want to go charging out to rescue him." Seeing that Aramis was about to object, Athos raised his voice and went on, "Aramis, that is exactly what they want. They know where we are, but as yet, we do not know their whereabouts. It is too dangerous a chance to take."
Seeing that he wasn't really getting through, he said, Maybe after the carnival is over tomorrow, Treville will relent and allow us to joi the hunt. For now would you try to relax?"
Aramis shrugged, and gave a small sigh of defeat. They all got up from the table and headed for Aramis' room for a game of cards.
Despite the crisp night air, Aramis insisted they leave the window open, saying he felt caged in enough already.
It wasn't like him to be grouchy. Athos and Porthos decided they would just put up with the nippy air for the evening. They knew that if the situation were reversed, they would probably be just as upset as Aramis was at the inaction right now.
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Later that night, while it was Porthos' turn to stay with Aramis, Athos entered. Seeing that Aramis was sound asleep, he gestured to Porthos to come outside. Porthos looked over at Aramis, wondering how he could sleep in the freezing room, shrugged his shoulders and came through the door to join Athos.
Athos closed the door most of the way, and said almost in a whisper, "If we are released to help search tomorrow, we really need to keep an eye on him. He is not himself right now, which makes him vulnerable."
"I don't really blame him. Every time he moves, we're right there. I'm not even the one being guarded, and it's getting to me."
"I understand too, Porthos. But if one of the men who are after him can come right up to the gasrrison gates to take that note, it is not safe."
After discussing strategy for a possible day on the streets tomorrow, Athos finally said, " Let us get back inside. It is freezing out here."
But going back inside, they were stunned to find that Aramis was no longer asleep, and no longer in the room. A telltale waft of freezing air from the window told them exactly where he had gone.
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D'Artagnan waited, having no idea when Laurent would return. He had no way of keeping time in the dark cell.
When he finally heard footsteps came down the hallway, he didn't know if it was Laurent or his brute of a brother.
The key turned in the lock, and steps came towards him. Then, he heard a soft "Monsieur?", and released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.
Laurent knelt down and took the gag out. Then, he began cutting through the thick ropes binding d'Artagnan's wrists and ankles. The Gascon's limbs were so numb that they didn't respond when he tried to move them. Laurent began massaging them to bring back the circulatio. Then, he grabbed d'Artagnan under the shoulders and assisted him to his feet.
He held onto him until d'Artagnan thought he felt able to move himself. Then, they slowly made their way to the cell door, d'Artagnan's legs still not fully functional as yet.
Emerging from the cell, d'Artagnan looked at Laurent, as he had no idea which way to go in the rabbit warren of dimly-lit corridors running past centuries-old cells, their doors ajar hanging from rusty hinges. One of the cells had an iron cage hanging from the ceiling. D'Artagnan didn't even want to ponder the fate of men locked in that contraption.
The air was musty, and they stirred up dust as they walked. The cold was invasive, making their breath come in visible puffs of air. Cobwebs were everywhere.
All d'Artagnan wanted to do was get out of this moldering wreck of a prison, and go back to his brothers.
They moved through the corridors, Laurent seeming to know the layout well. It seemed to go on forever before Laurent turned to him again.
We're almost at the entrance," Laurent whispered. D'Artagnan could hardly believe that in a few more moments, he would once again see daylight and fresh air. Anything but the feeling of being surrounded by death and decay.
Suddenly the sound of horses could be heard galloping in their direction when they neared the exit.
"My brother!" Laurent said in a shaky voice. D'Artagnan could hear the panic in his voice, and the fear in his eyes as he turned to look at him. He was scared to death of his brother.
Turning around, they headed away from the entrance, away from freedom, and back into the dim recesses of the prison, hoping to get out another way.
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Aramis catwalked his way across the garrison roof, careful to tread lightly so he would be unheard.
Slipping out of the window had been easy. No one was around the compound, for which he was very thankful. He just wished he would have had time to grab his long doublet. The night air had a definite chill to it.
He couldn't believe the luck he had when Athos called Porthos from his room. The perfect opportunity handed to him, and he had move swiftly to take advantage of it.
Reaching the back wall of the garrison, he slipped over. Once he reached the ground, he began running. If his brothers caught up with him...
There were still roaming groups of men in the streets, most of them very drunk and singing now that their jobs of tearing down the carnival stalls was over and they had been paid.
He dodged around several groups, then slowed down. Other than the drunken men, there seemed to be no one else on the streets, the merrymaking from the carnival having worn everyone else out. The streets were dark, the moon covered by clouds enhancing the lack of light. The weather getting colder by the minute, causing him to reflect on his own lack of foresight to take off when he was so ill-prepared for the weather.
He had no idea how to get into contact with the men who were after him. Possibly, he could check out a few taverns in the hopes that someone might have a clue he could follow up.
But that problem was all rather swiftly taken out of his hands when a big meaty arm took hold of him and threw him against the side of the building he had been passing.
Aramis had the breath knocked out of him. Then he struggled, because even though his purpose had been to give himself up for d'Artagnan, his soldier's instinct was saying 'fight'. But more hands held him and pushed him harder against the wall. He started to say, "Let my broth..." when a large rag was stuffed into his mouth.
Struggling was impossible, too many men were holding him. They kept him pinned hard against the wall, his arms now painfully drawn up against his back. He was unable to move.
"At long last! You have been a very hard man to catch. Our benefactor will finally have his prize." Pausing, he then said, "I wouldn't want to be you when he carries out the plans he has for you," cackling at his own words. He was positively gloating that the mission they had been hired for was now successful.
Turning to the others, he said, "Prepare him!"