Next morning, Aramis' brothers were suddenly awakened by a loud thump. Three pairs of eyes turned immediately towards Aramis, then raced across the room to his bedside.
He was lying in a tangle on the floor, his blanket twisted around his legs. He wasn't moving.
Porthos, who was the first to reach him, turned him over, finding his eyes closed.
"Aramis!" he softly called him, and heard a groan from his brother.
Without further ado, Porthos gathered him up in his arms and laid him down again on his bed, Athos and d'Artagnan untangling his legs from the blanket.
Porthos asked him, "What happened, Aramis?"
"Thirsty."
"We would have brought you water, Aramis," Athos told him.
Aramis looked away. "I…I'm a man. I…should be able to get water for myself."
"Aramis, you are not well enough yet. Jehanne does not want us even attempting to assist you in sitting up yet," the warmth in Athos's voice reflecting how much he cared about his brother.
Aramis, still looking away, spoke again so softly, they could barely hear him. "I'm not a baby."
Porthos answered, "Aramis, do you remember when that thug broke my leg a few years ago? You wouldn't let me do anything, because you said you wanted my leg to heal properly."
D'Artagnan followed. "Remember when I came down with a cold that turned into pneumonia? You were an absolute mother hen, insisting on being at my beck and call for anything I needed."
Aramis had gone very quiet now, listening intently to every word.
"Aramis, we do for each other because we are brothers who love and care about each other. You do know you are the most adamant of any of us when it comes to either end of an injury or illness? When we are sick or injured you enforce a strict bedrest, running yourself ragged getting things for us. But when you yourself are ill or injured, we sometimes consider tying you to your bed to keep you still enough to heal."
By now, a small smile was forming on Aramis' face. He couldn't deny that they were accurately describing his medic and patient modes. How could he help but love his brothers even more for the care and attention they had been giving him? And he had nearly further injured himself because he was too proud to ask for assistance.
They could see that their words had broken through. Porthos quietly asked him, "Would you still like some water?" On receiving a small nod, he rose to get it for him.
D'Artagnan then asked him, "Is there anything else you require right now?"
On receiving a slight shake of Aramis' head, Athos sat down at his bedside with a book. D'Artagnan went upstairs to see if Jehanne had made breakfast yet, while Porthos assisted Aramis with his drink, the marksman's limbs still weakened from his captivity.
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Jehanne came down a little later. Her face looked worried even before she spoke
"Denis never returned from the village last night. That has never happened before." She was near tears as she told them.
All of the Musketeers looked from her to each other, their concern matching hers. They hoped they had not brought trouble to this dear couple who had taken them in and given them such kind treatment.
"Let us hope he only had a slight delay of some kind and will return to you today," Athos said to her.
They all hated not being able to just head into town and investigate, but the very real possibility that they could draw Aramis' kidnappers down on Aramis or Jehanne prevented them. The gang could even have had a watch on the house since they had searched it several days previously, and one of them appearing outside could signal an attack that could very well be deadly. They fervently hoped Athos' words to Jehanne would turn out to indeed be the truth.
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Denis gradually returned to consciousness, and almost wished he hadn't. Only one eye would open, the other blackened and swollen from the nearly continuous beatings he had endured since he had been forcibly brought to wherever this building was the previous evening.
His wrists and ankles were bound tightly, and he was gagged. The only times it had been removed being when they had come to interrogate him some more.
He had borne it as well as he could, determined not to reveal his name or where he lived. If he could help it. He would not give them any information. .He didn't want to endanger his wife or the Musketeers. He would rather lose his own life instead.
If he could at least hold out until the Musketeers' message had been delivered, help would be on its way to his house. He fervently prayed for this as he heard booted feet returning.
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At about the same time, Charles, who had accepted the errand described by Denis, arrived at the garrison. The men at the gates, looking the man over, were about to refuse to summon their captain to talk to a man in poor farmer's clothes.
Charles, correctly reading their thoughts on their faces, without further ado, raised his voice to a bellow, shouting out Treville's name.
After about the third time he called, Treville appeared outside his office door, seeing his men restraining a farmer at the gates. Not knowing what was going on, he called out, "What's going on?"
"We were just about to send this one on his way, Captain," one of the guards responded.
Treville was just about to turn around and go back into his office, stopping in his tracks when he heard, "I have a message from Athos," getting Treville's full attention now. He motioned for the men to let go of him and bring him up to his office.
When he had closed the door of his office on his men's curious faces, Treville asked, "How do you know Athos?"
"I was asked to bring you a message by another farmer in our valley. He said if I had any problems in trying to see you I was to give Athos' name."
Treville, intrigued now and hoping for answers as to where his missing Inseparables might be, asked, "And what is this message?"
Pulling a paper from his pocket, he handed it to Treville, not being able to read himself.
Treville read, 'Captain. Found Aramis. Took shelter. Man delivering message can lead you to us. Aramis' kidnappers, the hooded men, very close by. Looking for us. Athos.'
Treville folded the note, put it in his pocket, and turned once again to the farmer.
"What is your name, man?"
"Charles, sir."
"Charles, in one hour we leave. You will lead us to our missing men."
Turning on his heel, he strode to the door. Opening it, he shouted instructions to the guards about men, weapons, horses and supplies to be in the courtyard in one hour.
When that hour was up, Charles found himself in the midst of a group of heavily-armed Musketeers led by Treville, galloping out of the gates he had just come through an hour before.
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Denis had endured still another beating without giving them any information. Incensed, Mattieu had turned to one of his men, instructing him to "bring the whip."
It was a moment afterward when another of his men arrived to tell him, "We got some information out of somebody who was at the tavern in the village last night. He took some persuading," the look on his face indicating what kind of persuading. "This one," indicating their prisoner, owns that farm where that uppity woman lives...the one who got in your face when we…visited her."
Denis' heart froze. They knew now! And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. His life, his heart-he was nothing without her in his life. He began to pray harder than he had ever done before to protect her. And to protect the Musketeers.