CHAPTER 39
"Roudon happened, Captain. From the very beginning, our Lieutenant treated the three of us like something he stepped in in the stable yard."
"And you did nothing to provoke that behavior?" Treville asked as he led them over to two chairs and gestured for Aramis to sit.
Aramis gracefully settled his lanky frame in the chair. "Honestly, at first nothing. Yes, none of us were happy you put Lieutenant Roudon in charge, but we agreed to make the best of the situation."
Treville eyed Aramis as if he doubted his statement, wondering if he could get the man to speak what he believed were his true sentiments. He provoked marksman a bit. "I have already spoken with both Francis and Pierre and neither expressed any concerns about Roudon's leadership."
A small scowl turned down the corner of Aramis' lips. "No, I wouldn't imagine they would voice any complaints because they are cut from the same cloth as Roudon. Whereas I, and especially Porthos, are certainly not. Athos, man of mystery, who knows."
Treville sat quietly, letting a skeptical frown grace his features. The silence grew and the Captain was about to speak when Aramis finally said.
"If one is not part of the nobility then, in Roudon's eyes, one might as well be a beggar, or a thief. Certainly not a musketeer. We offend his sensibility. If he and his cronies had their way, we'd be used for nothing other than cannon fodder, human shields to protect their precious noble hides," he burst out. "Half of them don't know what the pointy end of the sword is for, can't hit the broadside of a barn with pistol or musket, and in hand to hand combat I swear they'd wet their pants. Yet we are the ones not fit to guard their Majesties."
"Strong words," Treville said mildly, as he leaned back in his chair.
"Words that speak the truth and you know it!" Aramis accused his superior.
"Yet, the behavior of you three, the gambling, the drinking and the womanizing, it plays right into Roudon's perception of the actions of the common man," Treville frankly pointed out.
Aramis was quiet for a few seconds before a radiant grin spilt his face. "Well, I can't deny we do have a certain charisma."
"That's not what others call it."
Aramis shrugged indifferently. "You can't please everyone. But when it comes to who is the most qualified to guard the King of France, hands down it is us over them any day. Athos is the best swordsman I have ever known; Porthos is the best fighter and, not to brag, no one equals me with a firearm. That's who you want defending King and Country, not some bunch of nobles who have nothing but blue blood to recommend them."
Treville's voice took on a sharp edge. "What you are saying is I didn't pick qualified soldiers to guard my King."
"I may have exaggerated about their skill level; though," Aramis added with a touch of hubris, "none of them are as good as us. Captain, I have the utmost respect for you and I know you had reasons for choosing every single musketeer in the regiment."
Now it was Treville's turn to concede a little. "Mostly, though I won't deny that a few of the sons of the nobility were, shall we say, gifted to me by the King."
"Was Roudon one of them?" Aramis quickly shot back.
"That is not germane to this conversation. What I need to know is what happened on the mission. Why did Roudon, who up to this point was keeping his opinions mostly to himself, decide now was the time to go public? Does he have a reason?"
Aramis sighed deeply as he rubbed a hand over his face. "A great deal of what Roudon says has a ring of truth."
"Ring of truth?" Treville prodded.
"Athos' behavior could be viewed as inappropriate. It is true he did hit Roudon..."
"More than once?"
"Depends on how you count. It only happened once, but Athos did hit him multiple times during that event."
"Why did Athos hit Roudon?" Treville asked, trying to get them back on track.
"Because Roudon was condescending to Porthos. Treating him as if he were a no better than a street bum, not a musketeer. In speech and in actions, he treated Porthos like a slave."
"I'm surprised that Porthos wasn't the one that punched Roudon. I'm not as blind as you may think. I know Roudon has been less than honorable in his actions towards Porthos," the Captain admitted.
"If you were aware then why did you put him in charge of the mission?" Aramis spat out, his cheeks flushing red. "You created the situation."
"Watch your tone, Aramis!"
The marksman knew he had gotten too heated and backed down. "Apologies, Captain. But I still have to ask, why?"
Both Treville and Aramis knew he didn't have to answer, but Treville's policy was to be as honest as he could with his men. That is what made him a good commander, because people trusted and respected him.
"When I was asked to set up this unit by the King, I wanted to build the best regiment in all of France. Bring in top talent. It wasn't until later that I learned this regiment was also part of a deal between the King and his nobility. I was thinking supreme defenders of the realm, they were thinking dumping grounds for surplus sons of the nobility."
Treville stretched his hardened frame and shifted to find a more comfortable position in his chair.
"Don't get me wrong. The idea of the musketeers was a necessary and important concept and I got some very good men, educated, loyal, weapons trained. But," he sighed, "some of the nobility came with certain... expectations."
"And I'm guessing serving alongside common soldiers was not one of them."
Treville have Aramis a wiry grin. "Ex-soldiers to teach them to be better fighters, to take care of the weapons, to help run the garrison, even to cook their meals was fine..."
"But to serve alongside them or, God forbid, to lead them, not so fine," Aramis finished his voice a mixture of sarcasm and understanding. "And yet, you still brought men like Porthos and myself into the unit."
Firmly and with a touch or pride, Treville answered, "I did. I wanted the best regiment and I wanted the best soldiers, men like you and Porthos."
"How did you convince the King?" Aramis asked with curiosity.
"I didn't so much ask as I simply did. I was given the power to set up the musketeers and, well, I did. His majesty is much too preoccupied with more important tasks to be involved in everything."
"But doesn't the King have to personally offer a commission to each musketeer? Not to be blunt but wouldn't someone like Porthos stick out among the faithful?"
"Did you know that Porthos saved the King's life the first time he met him? We were in the gardens and heard the sounds of a horse. Somehow, an assailant had managed to get by the household guards. To this day I don't know how he did it, but before any of us could draw our pistols on the intruder, Porthos had yanked him off his horse, slammed him into the ground, disarmed and subdued him."
"Impressive."
"That's what the King thought too and he said he needed men like him in the musketeers to guard his Royal person. So, the next day when I brought Porthos' commission back to him to sign, he did."
"I see," Aramis said though he felt that there must be more to the story than Treville was revealing and he was right.
Things had been very hectic that day and the King never got a really good look at Porthos, his savior. The first time the King really did get a good look at Porthos, he had exclaimed that the man was black and could not be a musketeer. Treville had reminded the King he had signed the commission himself. The King had replied he had thought Porthos was dirty from saving his life, not that it was his permanent skin tone. Treville then asked him to recall how, without thinking of himself, Porthos had singlehandedly thrown himself at an armed and dangerous assailant to save his Majesty's life. That was the type of loyalty and commitment the King needed in his musketeers. For whatever reason, maybe because the Cardinal wasn't around to influence him, the King had let the commission stand.
But the only thing that Treville said to Aramis was, "After Porthos was commissioned, it made it a little easier to bring a few other soldiers onboard, such as yourself."
"And I am guessing the fact my skin tone is a bit lighter and maybe I look more the role helped too," Aramis supposed aloud.
Ignoring Aramis' comment, Treville went on. "The King moved on, but people like Roudon have been tougher to convince and quite honestly, you men haven't often helped the issue with your behavior."
"It seems wrong that we have to kowtow to Roudon," Aramis replied with distaste.
"I'm not asking you to, but have you thought how some of the things you do, as well as Porthos and Athos, make you appear to the other men?'
Aramis grew quiet as he thought for a few moments. "I suppose we can be rough around the edges at times. But most of those sons of the nobility don't know a thing about struggling to survive. The pangs of hunger, the coldness of a night with naught but a thin rag, the disease and death that wander the streets of the poor at night. In those conditions you work hard to survive. So, forgive us if we have a few vices that help us to get by."
"Well, here in the garrison you have plenty of food, blankets that are thick and warm and a fairly clean, disease free place to live. So, maybe you could tone down your vices," Treville suggested with a wry grin.
"But on missions I have often been hungry and cold…"
"Aramis, you signed up to be a musketeer…"
"You asked me."
"You could have said no."
"No?" Aramis said in fake horror, "To such a noble position, even if I'm not a noble. Heaven forbid."
While they had been talking, the noise from the outside grew louder. Finally, Treville rose from his chair and walked over to a window that overlooked the courtyard. "What is going on out there?" he asked aloud as he saw most of his musketeers congregated in the courtyard and not at their assigned duties. Turning swiftly, he headed for the door. As he passed by Aramis, he tossed over his shoulder, "Want to make a small wager that somehow your companions are at the heart of whatever is going on out there?"
Aramis, who followed him out the door to the porch sincerely answered, "No, not really."