CHAPTER 25

As the last horse left the clearing, Aramis strolled back over to where Porthos and Athos stood. "I can't say I'm overly sorry to see them go."

"Got that right." Porthos agreed whole-heartedly "That DuPort is as insufferable as Roudon." Looking over at Athos he added, "Do you know Roudon forbid us to come after you?"

"It doesn't surprise me," Athos declared drolly. "He was not a big supporter of my…recruitment."

"He just doesn't know how lovable you are under that gruff exterior," Aramis teased. The frown he got from Athos made him laugh. "Now come, let's set up camp."

"Why? It is barely after midday. We can certainly make some good progress before the sun sets," Athos logically pointed out; at least it seemed logical in his duty-bound mind.

Aramis and Porthos exchanged glances. Apparently, this was going to happen the hard way. Aramis took the lead this time. "Taking a little longer to get back isn't an issue. You need to rest and have your wounds attended to before we head back to the estate with the stallions."

Glaring at Aramis, the swordsman declared, "I'm fine. You can examine them tonight when we stop. I won't perish between now and then."

"But you might fall off your horse and I'd have to do the 'heavy lifting'," Porthos grumbled under his breath.

"As your personal physician, I'd advise against riding any more today." Athos' eyes grew darker and it almost seemed as if he planted his feet deeper in the ground. Aramis tried a different tack. "OK, how about this. Captain Treville put me in charge of this rescue operation. I'm ordering you to stand down and rest."

Athos wasn't going to be thwarted by his companions even though the small rational part of his mind was suggesting he give in because he was going to lose. But he didn't and fought on. "This is no longer a rescue operation. That mission is complete. Now we are returning the stallions to their rightful owner. Different mission. Since I know best the way back to the estate, I should be in charge of the new mission."

The other two musketeers, to their credit, didn't burst out laughing at Athos' logical manipulations to get his way. "How about if I say please?" Aramis cajoled. When Athos didn't budge, he turned to Porthos. "Would you like to have a go at it?"

Purposely, Porthos swiftly covered the ground between himself and Roger, grabbed the horse's bridle and practically dragged the poor animal five feet to the left. The stallion let out a distressed neigh at the rough treatment and a guilty Porthos reached up and stroked the animal on the neck. "Sorry boy," he muttered, "But it's necessary."

The unexpected maneuver had the desired effect. When Athos' prop was removed, the swordsman swayed for a few seconds trying to find his equilibrium, then tumbled to the earth.

"You don't look so fine to me," Porthos pointed out as he led Roger over to Aramis and handed him the reins. "Looks like to me, you need to rest, here, for the night. And since you are going to do that, Aramis might as well look at those wounds that aren't bothering you."

Aramis raised an eyebrow at Porthos' tactics. "That was a bit abrupt," he observed mildly

"But highly effective," Porthos flung over his shoulder as he walked back to stand next to Athos. He stood silently, watching, as Athos pushed himself to his knees. "Please don't tell me you're gonna try to stand."

Athos didn't say a word as he struggled to get his feet under him so he could stand. His attempt went nowhere and he toppled over onto the ground once more. That didn't deter the stubborn musketeer as he pushed himself upright and tried once more to rise. His second attempt also failed and before he could make a third, Porthos reached down, picked him up, and slung him over his shoulder.

Athos gave a muffled protest of pain or disgust, Porthos wasn't sure which, but he ignored the man. "Where do you want him?" he asked as he faced Aramis.

Aramis, who was half-amused and half-horrified at the manhandling, pointed towards the small stream on the far side of the clearing. "Over there, so we won't have to haul the water so far."

With a nod, Porthos strode away. When he got near the stream, he stopped, looked around and then settled Athos on the grass with his back against a fallen tree. "Stay," he commanded as if he was dealing with a dog. It probably wasn't necessary for Porthos doubted Athos could crawl more than a few feet if his life depended on it, but it made him feel better.

Moving back to where his horse was, Porthos grabbed his saddlebags and his bedroll. "Take care of the horses and I'll set up camp. Then he is all yours," he told Aramis.

Sometimes Athos' stubbornness about his well-being pushed the good-natured Porthos over the edge. The streetfighter had a hard time trying to understand why someone like Athos couldn't see his own worth. He loved his brother-in-arms but sometimes the man just vexed him.

NOTE: Half way there.