Chapter Three
Porthos made short work of the lock on the barred door. He stepped back, giving the dagger to Athos as he did so. It was the only weapon they had between them. Athos peered out of the barred part of the cellar, before beckoning the others to follow him.
D'Artagnan waited for Porthos to take up his position on the other side of Aramis who was valiantly trying to stay conscious.
'Top of the steps, turn right along a corridor, I don't remember seeing any guards.'
Athos nodded and led the way up the stone steps. D'Artagnan and Porthos helped Aramis who was forced to use his injured leg a little as they ascended the steps. D'Artagnan took to quietly talking to the marksman in an attempt to keep him focused.
They paused again as Athos opened the door and looked out, he disappeared for a few seconds before returning holding a candlestick. He was holding it upside down, intending to use it as a more formidable weapon than the dagger which he passed back to Porthos.
They made their way along the bare corridor. The house must have been big to have such a large servants area. Torches lit their way flickering as they passed. They did not meet anyone. As they neared the end of the corridor they were faced with another door. Athos turned back to Aramis.
'There's a large hallway on the other side...might be someone there.'
Athos nodded and looked toward Porthos. Porthos helped d'Artagnan to manoeuvre the injured man to the side of the corridor and lean him on the wall. They did not want to sit him down in case they needed to move quickly.
'I've got him,' said d'Artagnan.
Porthos crossed to Athos wielding the knife. Athos quietly opened the door, they both slipped out. D'Artagnan could not see what was happening in the hallway, the odd shadow flitted across the gap in the slightly open door.
'When we get out there,' said Aramis quietly, 'there's a big door, we need to leave through it...I don't remember there being anyone outside...this place is quite secluded…' Aramis was panting slightly, 'I think they know the bog keeps it safe.'
'Save your breath until we need you,' said d'Artagnan.
Aramis managed a nod. D'Artagnan could not help noticing how heavy Aramis was becoming, he was supporting less and less of his own weight as they stood by the door. Athos had looked at the marksman with concern before they started out. It was clear Aramis was very weak, they were all trying not to believe he had lost too much blood already. Before they had left the cellar Porthos had redressed the stab wound using Aramis sash, the scarf soaked through with the marksman's blood.
The door was pushed open, d'Artagnan tensed up slightly. Porthos appeared with a slight grin on his face.
'They're all drunk, we took a couple of 'em out, but most of them are asleep,' he said as he helped to peel Aramis off the wall.
'We're to head towards the main door,' said d'Artagnan as they moved into the hallway.
Porthos steered them towards the door, Athos joined them from another room. The hallway was tatty, the house had not been lived in for a while but the paintings that remained on the wall betrayed the wealth of the place. D'Artagnan wondered if the farmers had picked the place clean, not all the farmers would have been as dedicated as others. Some of the lower paid labourers might not have thought twice about taking some of the smaller ornaments to sell for money.
Athos pulled the heavy, ornate door open and looked outside.
'No one,' he said as he opened the door wider.
A set of five steps led to a gravelled driveway that swept away from the house.
'I remember the gravel,' said Porthos as he and d'Artagnan slowly helped Aramis down the steps, 'which way?'
Aramis blinked a few times before indicating the direction they should go with a wave of his hand.
They moved across the gravel to walk on the grass alongside it. After two hundred yards they reached a set of impressive metal gates which stood open. They walked through, a rough road ran passed the big house. Athos turned back to look at Aramis whose head was bowed.
D'Artagnan shook Aramis slightly to stop him passing out.
'Sorry,' he said as he managed to raise his head, 'straight on, the boggy land is over there...there was a torch at the edge. They'd marked the route out with torches...they weren't lit though.'
D'Artagnan found himself looking at Athos with concern. The dusk was fast taking what remained of the daylight from them. If no one had lit the torches they would struggle to cross the bog.
'There was a bit of marshland near my farm,' he said as they made their way off the road in the direction Aramis had indicated, 'we lost a couple of horses in it. They get stuck and panic.'
The ground became damp, they had reached the edge of the bog.
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Porthos looked out across the bog, the green blanket of mossy grass looked harmless enough. The delicate yellow patches of flowers making the area look quite pleasant in the fading light. But he knew the dangers the area could hold. There would be obvious dank ponds of water and not too obvious watery holes.
'You two walk ahead, I'll walk with Aramis, just wait for his instruction before changing direction and tread careful,' he said as d'Artagnan relinquished his hold on the marksman.
Porthos realised they were going to be lucky to get through the bog unscathed.
'I can see the first marker torch,' said Athos, 'Aramis, can we just walk straight ahead towards it?'
Aramis managed a nod, 'the path twisted more further in, but to start it's quite straight.'
Slowly they began to make their way across. Athos had found a tree branch and was poking it on the ground ahead of him as he walked. He was pausing occasionally and making adjustments to the route. D'Artagnan followed his lead and Porthos followed d'Artagnan. He and Aramis were sinking slightly into the soft earth as they moved, their combined weight causing the bog to try to suck them in even on the relatively firm area that formed the pathway.
As they reached the first torch Aramis said quietly, 'to the left.'
Athos looked over and pointed at the next unlit torch. They moved off again. Porthos adjusted his grip on Aramis who was doing his best to walk but was limping more and more. The grip of his hand on Porthos' shoulder was becoming loose. Porthos just hoped his friend could stay conscious long enough to get them through the bog.
As they walked Aramis began to speak quietly to Porthos so that the others could not hear.
'Once we're through this...it's a straight line. Look for trees...to your right and keep going…'
'You can tell us that when we're through the bog,' replied Porthos, although he knew why Aramis was telling him the route.
Aramis did not think he was going to be conscious for much longer.
'You'll have to leave me if they start to follow…'
'No.'
'Porthos…'
'No. Now be quiet until you need to tell us the next direction to go in.'
Porthos was not prepared to listen to Aramis saying he was not going to make it. He was not prepared to listen as he friend faded away from him. He knew they were already on borrowed time with the injured man but there was still a chance and he was determined they were going to take it.
They reached the next marker, Aramis looked to the right of them.
'Slowly through here. It veers to the left in about fifty yards then straightens up.'
Athos set off, poking the tree branch as he went. The pace slowed as Athos checked each step he took.
'Left here,' said Aramis.
Athos carefully turned and poked the branch downwards. It slipped into the boggy water. He took a couple of steps further forward before trying again and finding firm ground. They proceeded.
A noise behind them made the uninjured men turn.
'It's a fox,' said d'Artagnan.
Porthos sighed. The last thing they needed was for the alarm to be raised. They could not quicken their pace.
'Aramis, how much further?' asked Athos as he continued to poke his stick into the ground before taking a step.
When Aramis did not respond both Athos and d'Artagnan turned and looked back with concern. Aramis' head was bowed again.
'Hey,' said Porthos shifting his hold again.
Aramis lifted his head again and looked at them with unfocused eyes.
Athos repeated his question.
'At the next torch, head right for about one hundred yards, then its left until the edge of the bog.'
Athos nodded, he briefly made eye contact with Porthos who shook his head. Porthos knew what Athos was thinking. They were all thinking the same thing. The same thing Aramis had intimated earlier. Aramis was not going to make it. He was barely conscious as it was, his steps were uneven, Porthos was taking most of his weight now. Porthos did not want to think about the implications of Aramis passing out and them not being able to rouse him.
A gasp from d'Artagnan followed by a damp sucking sound brought a new issue for them to worry about.
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Athos took a couple of steps forward before he realised his foot had sunk into the boggy earth. D'Artagnan was already up to his knees in the wet cloying mossy water. He was trying to grab at the firmer ground of the pathway but his movements were making him sink quicker. The Musketeer had a look of terror on his face as he tried to squirm out of the watery trap.
D'Artagnan was only a foot away from the path, Athos knelt down and leaned forward he grabbed at the other man's wrists and managed to make eye contact.
D'Artagnan was breathing fast as Athos took hold of him.
'Look at me. Calm down. Stop struggling...the more you struggle the quicker you sink. You know this…'
With an effort, d'Artagnan stilled his panicked movements. But he was still sinking, although slower.
'You know better than us, how to get out of this, think about what you need to do.'
Athos knew the younger man needed to be kept focused on the task of freeing himself from the bog. The swordsman had to remain calm for d'Artagnan's sake.
'Porthos put me down and help them, I'm not going anywhere,' said Aramis, with a new found energy of his own.
A few seconds later Porthos was there, knelt beside Athos taking d'Artagnan's arms to free Athos to help the trapped man.
'I need to get one leg free...the water is in my boots I don't think I can pull them out…'
'Then don't...I'll buy you some more boots d'Artagnan,' said Athos trying to keep his voice impassive.
D'Artagnan nodded still breathing a little fast, he had paled considerably. He started to wrench his left leg up, Athos lowered himself to lie down to spread his weight, he reached forward and grabbed d'Artagnan's knee and helped him to pull. The bog was reluctant to release its captive.
As he pulled his left leg up d'Artagnan sank further in. With a plop, he managed to free his left leg stretching it out behind him and leaning forwards slightly. Athos reached forward and grabbed the man around the waist hooking his fingers around d'Artagnan's belt. Porthos had managed to encircle his arms around the slighter man's chest. D'Artagnan was hanging onto Porthos with all his strength.
Athos released his right hand and began to drag at d'Artagnan's right leg which had sunk to the thigh. He reached down into the bog and pulled at d'Artagnan just below the knee. They slowly pulled him out.
Pothos toppled back with d'Artagnan landing sprawled at his side, both boots gone, victims of the bog. All three men were breathing heavily. Athos stared at the watery bog that nearly became d'Artagnan's grave.
The situation was now considerably worse. Both d'Artagnan and himself were soaked through, the water was cold and the encroaching dusk had cooled the air a few degrees. It would not take long, once the surge of energy had worn off, for them both to start shivering. They needed to get out of the bog quickly. They needed to get warm and dry.
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