CHAPTER 32
"The estate goes to Bern. We have the clause about the hiring of the horse expert. Also, the generous gift of the current geldings to the musketeer regiment," Aramis declared as he scanned the words he had penned.
A hint of a smile adorned the pain-wracked Comte. "They aren't bad animals. They just aren't what we need in the breeding program. You only need so many stallions at one time. And these geldings will be supporting a noble and worthy cause."
Giving a little head tilt in acknowledgment, Aramis said, "His Majesty and Captain Treville will be most honored and appreciative of your generosity." After a short pause he added, "And I have the stipulation involving the Comte de la Fére."
"Yes. An old friend of the family. Bought horses from us for years. Any horse he wants he can have for free, forever."
"Again, a very generous and what could be a costly bequest. What stops this Comte from taking advantage of your kindness?" Aramis wanted to make sure the dying man's mind was not becoming muddled, causing him to make poor decisions.
"The Comte de la Fére is one of the finest men I have ever had the privilege to know. He won't take advantage of my offer, in fact, he probably won't avail himself of it at all. He is as loyal as he is stubborn."
"Then, if you are done, you need to sign." Aramis motioned to the servant discreetly standing by the doorway to help prop up the dying Comte so he could sign his last will and testament.
Gasping, Jourdain shakily held the quill and in a wobbly script, he signed the bottom of the document. When it was done, he dropped the quill on the bed and fell towards the pillow with the servant easing his descent as much as possible.
It was then that two new shadows appeared in the doorway. "Your cousin has arrived, Comte Vergy"
A tall gentleman stepped into the room and headed for the bed where the Comte lay. "Jourdain!" he desperately whispered when he saw his cousin's condition. "I couldn't believe what your servant told me. Shot. By a Spaniard. In your own front yard. What is the world coming too?"
"I'm afraid I won't be here much longer to know. That's why I asked you to come. Shortly, I will be dead."
Bern's hand covered his mouth in horror. "No. It can't be. Did you call the doctor? Did you..."
But Jourdain held up a weak arm to silence his cousin. "It's true."
As if still hoping for another verdict, Bern looked over at Aramis, imploring him with his eyes to deny the harsh truth.
Aramis slowly shook his head. "I am sorry, Monsieur."
Bern turned back to stare at his cousin in shock. He opened and closed his mouth a number of times, but no words came forth.
"Time is fleeting. We must talk swiftly before the hourglass runs out. I am leaving my estate and horses to you, to keep in operation."
The confused look on Bern's face grew even larger. "I don't understand. I already live here, in the chateau with my wife and children. We are happy. We want no more."
Even though the pain was getting to the point of being intolerable, a small smile graced Jourdain's face. Bern was a good man. He, his wife and children lived happily as his cousin had stated. Never asking for more, they were content with their lot. Leaving the estate to him was the right thing to do.
"And you have never asked for more. But this isn't you asking. This is me giving. Freely. And the only thing I ask is you continue my breeding program." Jourdain saw the distress in his cousin's face deepen.
"I know nothing about breeding horses!"
"You will learn. Let me tell you about the provision in my will."
Aramis took that as his cue to depart. "If you need anything I shall be nearby," he said to the Comte with a small bow as he left the room.
Jourdain looked past his cousin at the departing musketeer. "Thank you, Aramis, for all you have done. You, Porthos and Athos are lucky to have each other. Take care of him." Aramis gave Jourdain a strange look, then simply nodded. There was truly more here than met the eye and he had a feeling he'd never learn the whole of it.
Jourdain's eyes shut for a few seconds as he regathered his strength, then he opened them and began telling Bern about his wishes for the estate. Aramis quietly left the room, went back downstairs and joined his friends in the dining area. Athos' head was still resting on his arms and the marksman thought him to be asleep. However, he was proven wrong. As he headed around the oak table towards where Porthos was residing, he heard a tired voice speak one word in inquiry.
"Jourdain?"
Aramis dropped into a chair across the table from Athos before he answered. "His cousin is with him now."
Wearily, Athos raised his head and stared at Aramis, demanding he answer the question Athos hadn't asked.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, the medic unconsciously pulled at the tip of his beard before dropping his hand in his lap. "Not long. A few hours perhaps."
Angst flashed in the green eyes staring at him and Aramis could practically feel the waves of guilt and remorse washing over Athos. "It's not your fault, Athos."
As Aramis knew would happen, Athos dropped his head onto his forearms once more, ignoring him. Aramis glanced at Porthos, who was using a knife to pare sections off an apple. Aramis opened his mouth to expound on his declaration but he stopped when he saw Porthos give a quick head-shake. "Let 'im be for now. Won't do no good."
After about thirty minutes, Aramis suggested they move to the drawing room where it would be more comfortable to wait. Porthos agreed, rose, shook Athos awake and shepherded him into the other room. The half-asleep swordsman stumbled to a settee, dropped onto it and promptly rolled on his side and went back to sleep. The other two musketeers took chairs flanking an open window where a slight breeze was filtering through. They quietly talked and dozed as the sun peaked then headed for the horizon. Twice Aramis checked on Jourdain and each time came back looking grimmer than the last. Even though it always seemed Athos was dozing, the minute Aramis stepped back into the drawing room from checking on Jourdain, Athos' eyes would open and seek him out to see if a miracle had occurred. When the stricken swordsman realized it had not, he shut his eyes once more and blocked out the world.
A servant came by to offer them light refreshments and Aramis instructed him to set them on the buffet by the door. Porthos availed himself of the food and Aramis had a small plate, but Athos ignored the repast like every other external stimulus around him. He continued to lie on the settee as if he were a moth in a cocoon, brooding, still and silent.
Just before dusk there was a creak on the stairs before a shadow darkened the doorway of the drawing room. Porthos, Aramis and miraculously Athos rose and turned to face the figure.
"He has passed," Bern said softly before bowing his head. "It is a blessing. He was in much pain…at the end. Now he is in his savior's hands in heaven."
Aramis mumbled a prayer, crossed himself, then touched his crucifix to his lips before tucking it away.
"We'll bury him in the morning, if you'd be so kind as to assist," Bern continued, as he wiped the back of his hand across his damp eyes.
"Of course," Porthos rumbled. "He was a good man."
Bern raised his head and nodded. "Yes. Yes, he was. He was good, kind and had trust in his fellow man. Perhaps too much trust. God knows he has trusted to put both a blessing and a trial in my lap. Living here in this beautiful place and taking care of his magnificent animals. I know how to ride, feed and care for them, but produce the wonderful specimens like he does…"
"I can assure you, on my honor, that the man I know in Paris is a genuine expert and will be able to guide you in your endeavors," Athos spoke up.
Bern shifted his eyes to the disheveled musketeer. "Athos, is it?" After the swordsman gave a slight head tilt, the cousin continued. "Jourdain said you'd be of assistance. How is it you know of this horse expert in Paris."
Without hesitation, Athos answered, "I met him in my…travels."
Aramis's eyes narrowed as he studied Athos. True, the man had answered promptly, but the little hesitation at the end of the comment made the marksman think Athos was not being totally forthcoming about how he knew this horseman.
Bern, however, was satisfied and went on. "Jourdain also said that you'd be able to help get a message to the Comte de la Fére. My cousin has left him, well I don't quite know how to explain it. An open invitation to take horses from the estate." Bern searched his memories, for something about the de la Fére name sounded vaguely familiar. Finally, it came to him. "I believe the de la Féres were friends of my cousin's family. There was a son or two, one that came here to visit Jourdain sometimes I believe. I met him once I suppose, but I really have no recollection of him other than he was quiet."
The nervous sweat dripping down Athos' back was making his shirt damp even if the rest of him seemed cool and calm. He would not have recognized Bern, had Jourdain not said who he was, so he doubted he would be recognized in return. It seemed luck was on his side in this matter. However, Aramis did file that interesting tidbit away. There was still more here than met the eye.
Breaking out of his contemplations, Bern asked, "So, you can get a message to the Comte de la Fére about what happened and my cousin's bequest?"
Athos gave a small nod.
"Thank you. Jourdain," Bern swallowed hard, "is being prepared. By his servants. I shall ride back and fetch my family to attend his burial in the morning. Could I impose further upon you musketeers to stay here tonight. To, I don't know, watch I suppose. Such strangeness has occurred I don't know what to think."
"We will gladly stay here and keep things on track while you fetch your family." Aramis assured him. "Tomorrow, after all is done, we will gather the King's horses and be on our way. We will be sure that the money due from the King is faithfully delivered to you, Monsieur. The King is a man of his word."
Bern started running his hand through his hair. "This is all so overwhelming. I am simply overcome…I don't know what to think. The Spanish raiding French estates. Killing innocent people. Jourdain never hurt a fly in his life. He loved his horses and his family. Now, all are gone."
Aramis walked over, placing a gentle hand on the distraught man's arm. "This is a large shock. With time, it will dull. And your cousin left you with his legacy, his horses. I know you will do him proud. Now, before it gets any later, ride for your home. Would you like one of us to accompany you?"
Bern started as if the thought of riding alone, after dark, could be risky. "Is there still danger?"
"The man who killed your cousin is dead, though I do not know how he came to end up back here. Last we saw he was under musketeer guard on his way back to Paris for hanging. I know not how he came to escape, nor if any others also escaped for that matter. So perhaps, it is best if one of us rides with you, just to be safe."
"I'll go," Porthos spoke up quickly, not giving anyone else a chance. Athos was in no condition, though he doubted that would have stopped the man from saying he'd go. And if there were any medical issues to deal with tonight, he'd rather Aramis be here to look after Athos.
"It's settled," Aramis quickly agreed, having similar thoughts to Porthos'.
Athos turned on his heel, left the room and disappeared. Aramis and Porthos glanced at each other uneasily.
"Come on. Let's get goin'" Porthos addressed Bern. The two men, with Aramis is tow, left the house and headed to the barn to saddle up the horses. As they stepped off the porch, they saw Athos standing at one of the fences, gazing out over the expanse of green grass and the mares peacefully grazing.
After Bern's and Porthos' horses were saddled and they rode off into the twilight, Aramis wandered over to stand by Athos, who was leaning with his back against the fence watching them depart up the road.
"It's hard to believe, all that has happened, in such a short time," Athos whispered as he remembered riding up that same drive little more than a week ago. Jourdain had been alive…then. Now he was dead and Athos knew he played a large part in the disaster. Had he only killed Anton when he had the chance, Jourdain would still be alive. Curses to justice. He should have employed the biblical eye for eye when he first had a chance.
Aramis, who was getting better at sensing the brooding Athos' moods, decided to take a stab at what he thought the closed-off man was thinking. "Jourdain's death is not your fault."
"Like hell it isn't," Athos growled as he turned back towards the horses and leaned his arms on the fence. "I should have killed the bastard when I had the chance. Then Jourdain would still be alive."
"But Athos. We are not the hand of justice. That is the King. We are merely the deliverers."
"And I should have delivered a bullet to the bastard's heart."
It wasn't that Aramis didn't agree on many levels with Athos' sentiments, but he also knew from his years of service that it wasn't what they were supposed to do. Though he'd been tempted, and if the truth be told more than tempted, to administer his own justice once or twice. But it wasn't right and Athos was too new to this game to be straying down that forbidden path. So, he held a firm line and used Athos' Achilles heel against him.
"It would not have been honorable."
Athos spun to glare at Aramis, but in doing so, over-stressed his weakened body and his legs turned to jelly. He landed hard on the ground and was unable to suppress a moan. Immediately, Aramis was by his side on the grass. Athos rolled onto his back and stared in a dazed manner up at the marksman.
"Are you hurt?"
The green eyes blinked once or twice to clear the fogbank. "I am no more hurt than I was a minute ago."
"That's not saying very much."
Aramis rose and extended a hand to help Athos back on his feet. The swordsman kept one hand on the fence and one on Aramis' arm until the world stopped tilting and turning.
"Can you make it back up to the house?"
"Of course." Athos let go of Aramis and the fence and took a step forward. It wasn't the least bit graceful and he almost thought he might kiss the dirt again. "It might, however, take me a while," he declared ruefully. "It would be quicker, perhaps, if you were to …assist.
Without comment, Aramis secured Athos' arm again and they began their shaky trek across the yard.
"Once inside, you'll strip, I'll examine your wounds, clean, stitch or do whatever is necessary. You will wash off some of that grime, then dinner and bed."
"What no story?" Athos asked sarcastically.
"Perhaps. If you are well-behaved, which we both know is not likely."
"Wonderful," Athos said wryly. "Any chance of just leaving me out here with the horses?"
They stopped for a moment as Aramis turned to stare at Athos. "You know, Porthos isn't the only one with a mean right hook. I don't like to display my violent side, but I will, if circumstances call for it."
Athos' eyes narrowed as he tried to gauge how much of what Aramis said was a joke and how much a threat. Deciding it was more threat than joke, he gave a final scowl, but continued on walking slowly towards the house.
Aramis gave him a light pat on the back with his free hand. "Thought you might see it my way."