Chapter Two
They passed their days riding furiously through the countryside, avoiding people and sleeping beneath the trees. It was a harried existence that left all three feeling worn and thin. Eventually the time came when they ran out of food and entering a village became unavoidable…
Aramis had wanted to go, he felt responsible for their current plight - and rightly so. But Porthos was wary of them being recognised. Still, Athos felt they had come far enough. Paris was many miles behind them and there would be nobody familiar about, nor had they anything about them that identified them as musketeers. He thought it safer for them to stick together.
So the three musketeers warily approached the nearest village. Aramis felt quite paranoid, he kept expecting passers by to unsheath their swords at him. Instead they smiled and nodded, often giving a brief comment on the beautiful day they were having. Indeed it was gloriously sunny, but Aramis still felt like ice ran through his veins… Athos became bold enough to ask for directions to the inn. On finding it they entrusted their horses to the stable boy and went inside. Athos and Aramis found the darkest corner to sit in while Porthos went to order.
"Could we not stop here for the night?" Aramis asked, appreciating sitting down in a proper chair for the first time in who knows how long.
"No, we have to keep moving." Athos glared.
"Just one night in a bed, that's all I ask."
"You don't deserve a night in bed." Athos spoke wryly.
"But you do, Porthos too." Aramis pointed out.
Athos sighed and turned over his shoulder to shout at Porthos. "Po… er… Philippe! Ask for three rooms."
Thankfully Porthos turned around and nodded, answering to the false name Athos had quickly given him.
Over dinner they decided to stock up on supplies before returning to their rooms. Porthos wasn't at all happy about stopping for the night, but even he was won over by the thought of a soft bed. After a good meal all three were in better spirits. They approached the local store returning all smiles and greetings from the villagers. They were clearly used to people passing through, and the village seemed prosperous for it. Some villages were insular and unwelcoming, strangers and traders weren't likely to stop long and spend coin in such places.
Athos detailed their supplies to the shop owner, a friendly rotund gentleman of advanced years, while Aramis and Porthos nonchalantly looked around.
"That's quite a bit you're after, journeying far are you?"
"We're likely to be on the road for some time. My brothers and I are visiting distant relations."
"Your brothers eh?" The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow and looked at Porthos.
"Yes, my brother and my… adopted brother."
"Ah, I see your parents were good folk taking in an unfortunate."
Porthos glared and Aramis gave him a dig in the ribs with an elbow.
"Indeed, in fact it's them we're travelling to see. They're getting older now and can't manage to the journey to Paris." Too late Athos realised his mistake. He should not have mentioned Paris.
"You're from Paris then? I'm sure you're finding it a lot quieter out in these parts."
"Yes, I must say it is more… peaceful."
"We get news from Paris quite often, it does sound like quite a busy place! Dangerous too, I hear there have been assassination attempts, gunpowder plots and goodness knows what else. It's a miracle the king and queen are still alive… why I even hear their own musketeers are not to be trusted. The other day a man came through with a notice about a rogue musketeer. Fancy that!"
"Fancy that indeed…" Athos tried not to react. Aramis and Porthos seemed to freeze behind him. "Out of interest, do you have that notice? Might I take a look?"
"No, I'm afraid it got handed round the village, goodness knows where it is now."
"Can you remember what it said?"
"Hmm… said he was wanted for treason, gave a bit of a description. Oh and it said there might be two others riding with him. I can't quite remember his name, Arathos maybe… One of them might have been Portamis. Why? Do you reckon you've seen him?"
"Oh no, I just wanted to know what to look out for in case I came across him on the road. Thank you, have a good day now." Athos dropped a few coins on the counter and they hurriedly took the supplies and got out.
The minute the door closed behind them Athos hissed under his breath. "We need to leave now."
They headed for their horses.
So much for a good night's sleep in a soft bed…
~oOo~
They rode on, sleeping under the trees when the weather was good, and taking shelter in disused barns and buildings when it was not. After their encounter in the village the world seemed to close about them. Aramis imagined enemies at every corner and sleep was hard to come by. When he eventually did manage to close his eyes Aramis would often wake suddenly and sit bolt upright with a sharp intake of breath. On having his nightmare fade away the young musketeer would lie back and focus on the small pinpoints of blue sky just glimpsed between the dancing leaves. There was a short moment of numbness on waking when he could simply savour the breeze... His mind wandered those places amid the places where it was safe, but those seconds of being suspended between unconsciousness and consciousness were over too quickly. Cold, hard, reality slammed into his thoughts. He remembered where he was, what he had done, and why he had been chased from sleep so suddenly...
It was late when the rain started pouring down. The three men were already wet through when they found an old musty barn to hide in. When the horses were free of their saddles they shook vigorously making Aramis jump. The musketeers stripped their own clothes down and left them to dry before settling down in a pile of old straw to sleep. Aramis tossed and turned, the straw was brittle and uncomfortable, but even if he were on a feather bed he was sure sleep would not come. Now he knew how Marsac felt living life on the run… His thoughts were occupied with Anne and their child. The time for the baby to be born was near. That's if they were still alive… The three musketeers had avoided people as best they could and so they had no news of Paris. It weighed on Aramis, perhaps more than his own eked out existence.
Aramis turned over to find Athos sitting up. The musketeer gave a faint half smile to Aramis. "Can't sleep?"
"No…" Aramis sat up and rubbed his tired eyes. He would dearly like to sleep, but he couldn't.
Athos rose and went to their saddle bags, sharing out their last bits of food.
Aramis held a hand up when offered his share. "I'm not hungry. Let Porthos have mine."
Somehow Porthos had managed to fall asleep, but on waking he would surely be hungry. Aramis quite envied his ability to drop off and eat. Everything turned to ash in the young musketeer's mouth.
"You need to eat." Athos tried again but Aramis still refused.
Athos sighed. "Let me put this another way - you need to eat because we might not be eating again for a while."
"What do you mean?" Aramis frowned.
"We've spent our last coins, these are our last rations…"
The young musketeer swallowed the lump in his throat. "What do we do?"
"Hunt… work for our keep… I'd rather avoid villages if we can, but maybe some of the outlying farms need a hand and have no time for Parisian gossip." Athos sounded so tired, and once again guilt washed over Aramis.
"You should leave me and go back to Paris… Maybe you'll be pardoned."
"And maybe we'll be hung. I'd rather not take the risk... besides, we can't leave you out here alone, you'd be hopeless."
"I'd find a way somehow…" Aramis sounded as if he believed his words as much as Athos did.
"I'd give you a day before falling into some sort of trouble, and that's being generous." Athos gave him pointed look. "Things will look better in the morning. There's a farm over the next valley, I'll go and see if there's work for us. Try to get some sleep for now."
The next morning Porthos tried to stop Athos going to the farm. He thought it too dangerous. He certainly wouldn't let Athos go alone… Athos thought all of them going might seem a little intimidating, and three men resembling three wanted musketeers was asking for trouble. In the end he agreed to let Porthos follow at a distance. They returned looking despondent, but at least they returned… There was no work to be had at the farm. Athos said the man probably took him for a criminal, he gave a critical eye to the musketeer and Athos' appearance was a little dishevelled to say the least.
The three musketeers tried another farm, and there it was made explicit. The owner trained a gun on them and took the musketeers for thieves. Luckily Porthos managed to kill a rabbit, so they ate that night. But the three men went hungry the next two days. More bad luck hit when Porthos' horse went lame. He dismounted and walked alongside, slowing them all down.
"Let's ask at this next farm. Even if there's no work we can't force poor Fleur on like this." Aramis waved a hand at the struggling mare. "They might have another horse we can take."
Aramis hadn't meant they should steal the horse - no matter how desperate they had become the three musketeers had not stooped to stealing yet - but with no means to pay he wasn't sure how else to acquire a horse.
"Alright… we're not getting very far like this." Athos conceded the point.
They looked a sorry sight approaching the farm. Three tired men, dishevelled and dirt stained, with three tired horses, one near enough limping… There was an elderly man working at the front of the farm house. Aramis held up a hand in greeting, and painted a big smile on his face, hoping to reassure him they meant no harm.
"Monsieur, my friends and I have travelled far and unfortunately one of our horses has turned up lame. Could we trouble you for some shelter while we see to her leg? In fact, if you have work that needs doing we will be happy to work for our keep or a little coin."
The elderly man cast a wary eye over them and then broke out into a smile. "As it happens I am in need of help. The weather is turning and I have crops that need to be picked… I've lost my usual hands, and though I have sent word for my son to come home he has not arrived nor answered."
"We will be happy to help, Monsieur...?"
"Jacques, call me Jacques." He extended a hand for Aramis to shake. "You can put your horses in the stables around back. I have no room in the house for you all to sleep, but the barn is clean and dry."
"That will do, many thanks Jacques. I am Alex and these are my good friends Arnaud and Philippe." Aramis turned to point at Athos and Porthos.
"Good, good… once you have seen to your horses please come inside, my wife is about to make dinner and I can acquaint you with the job at hand."
When the farmer had turned his back and shuffled inside the three musketeers hurried around to the stables, spurred on by the thought of a decent meal. Porthos gave his mare's leg a look over and was dismayed to find her fetlock swollen. Horse lameness could be a terrible thing to resolve… A quick look round revealed there were no other horses in the stables, save for a large cob that looked more suited to pulling carts than galloping miles. This could be a problem…
Back inside the scene was a homely one, Jacques set the table while his wife Aimee prepared dinner for them all. There was much pleasant discussion between mouthfuls, Jacques explained which fields and crops he wanted harvesting and then talk turned to Porthos' horse. The farmer had been a keen rider in his younger days and he held an interest in everything equine. The large stables had once been full of horses, but old age had forced him out of the saddle. Jacques told them he could easily make a poultice that should help the poor mare. He kept on talking, telling them of his youth, how he met Aimee… everything and nothing. There was no danger of the three musketeers revealing anything - they could hardly get a word in edgeways. Eventually the hour grew late and they retired to the barn… it would be an early start the next morning.
Their days passed quickly out in the fields. Though Aramis found the work monotonous he was not going to complain at receiving regular meals and a safe place to sleep. This seemed like paradise compared to life on the run. He could almost imagine stopping here and creating a new life with their assumed names…
"Alex. Wake up… Alex." Porthos threw a sack at Aramis and he shot up.
For some reason Porthos found his assumed name quite amusing and had taken to using it even when they were alone.
"We can finish that field if you get a move on."
Aramis yawned. "Since when did you become such a keen farmer?"
"Since I became Phillippe. Now get up."
The young musketeer scrubbed a hand over his face. "Is your horse any better?"
"The poultice seems to be working, I'll give her a walk out later, see how she is."
There was a sudden clatter of hooves on the path outside and Athos burst into the barn, shutting the door closed behind him. "Hush! There's a rider out there..."
They all rushed to the door and peered through the crack to see a well dressed man dismount a very fine horse. The three men held their breath, wondering who on earth it could be...
That was revealed soon enough as Jacques came out of the house as fast as he could to embrace the stranger.
"His son… it must be his son." Porthos breathed a sigh of relief.
"Alright, let's carry on as normal. Get out to the field, do our work…" Athos straightened and opened the door.
As they passed by Jacques waved them over. "This is my son - Henri! He has arrived at last!"
"Pleased to meet you." Aramis offered a hand. "My name is Alex and these fine men behind me are Arnaud and Phillippe."
Henri just looked at Aramis' quite filthy hand. The young musketeer took it back and wiped it on his trousers suddenly feeling self conscious. The newcomer looked over each man in turn and addressed his father.
"Well I'm glad you've found some new farm hands, to be honest I wasn't looking forward to working the fields again. It has been a long time…" Henri spoke somewhat disdainfully.
"He's done very well for himself in Paris he has! Merchant of the finest goods, he serves all the well to do ladies and gentlemen at court. To think he came from a little farm out here!" Jacques spoke enthusiastically of his son, as parents are wont to do, while ignoring his child's impoliteness…
The two of them turned to go inside leaving the three musketeers frozen to the spot.
"Did he say Paris?" Aramis paled visibly.
"We're going to have to be careful around him. But like I said before - let's carry on as normal." Athos gave them both a shove.
Dinner that night was a subdued affair. Jacques tried talking away as he usually did, but the atmosphere was fouled somewhat by Henri's dark glances.
"So Henri, have you found a wife yet?" Jacques asked eagerly.
Henri just cast his eyes over Aramis and ignored the question. "Where did you say you were from?"
"We didn't." Aramis replied tightly.
"Then allow me to ask - where are you from?" Henri spoke in a careful cultured way, as if had learnt to conceal a displeasing lower born accent.
"Gascony." Aramis said the first thing that came to mind that wasn't Paris.
"And yet you don't have the look of a Gascon.".
"We settled there when I was young, I consider it home."
"Have you spent much time in Paris?" Henri's questions were getting to be a little probing…
"Not in recent years, a few visits when I was small…" Aramis almost felt he was being interrogated.
"Strange… you look familiar."
"I have never seen you before Monsieur." Aramis said a little eagerly. "But since you have come from Paris, perhaps you would tell us some news? We don't get to hear much out here… How fares the queen?"
Aramis felt a sharp pain in his leg as Athos booted him under the table.
"She is well and has retired to Saint-Germain-en-Laye, we all eagerly await the birth of our new prince - God willing the child will be a boy."
Aramis near enough collapsed with relief. They were alive.
It seemed his sudden silence did not go unnoticed.
"Alex, you don't look at all well. Why don't you go and lie down?" Athos was half covering for him and half trying to get rid of him.
"Yes… yes, I think I will. If you would excuse me. Good night my friends." Aramis stood and took his leave. He wanted to be alone with his joy and relief, he couldn't sit there keeping up that wretched facade…
As he left Henri's voice filtered through the door. "... in other news from Paris - there is a rogue musketeer escaping justice. What a terrible thing for a musketeer to turn traitor of all people. I trust you gentlemen have seen nothing of him?"
An icy hand seemed to grip Aramis' heart.
Later on Athos and Porthos returned to the barn. Porthos had a terrible scowl on his face. "We should go, right now, he suspects us. I can tell."
"Running away in the night would just look suspicious… If we carry on as normal Henri will probably return to Paris and forget about us."
"You heard him Athos, he was asking questions, trying to catch us out. He's not the sort to let things go, I know men like him… they enjoy holding power over others." Porthos stalked up and down the barn restlessly.
"Then we'll wait until morning, make our excuses to Jacques and leave."
"I think that's a mistake. Aramis, what do you say?"
Aramis thought a moment before answering. "I agree with Athos. Running away now without a word would condemn us for sure."
"Then on your heads be it." Porthos huffed and settled down in the straw.
~oOo~
The next day Athos shook Aramis awake. "Make ready to leave, I'm just going to help Porthos with Fleur. She hasn't taken to confinement well and keeps kicking out at him…"
Aramis rolled out of the straw with a yawn and started packing away what little things they had. It wasn't long before he heard the barn door open again.
"Tamed the wild beast already have you?" He said over his shoulder with a hint of amusement.
The only answer was the click of a gun.
Aramis whipped around to find himself staring down the wrong end of a pistol. It was held firmly in hand by Henri who stood in the doorway with a cruel smirk and a length of rope.
"On your knees, and put your hands behind your back."
"What are you doing? Have you gone mad?!" Aramis shouted.
"Oh don't play the innocent with me. I know who you are, Aramis. If you weren't already the talk of Paris, I've seen you before. Of course your eyes passed right over me, a simple merchant, your attention was always taken by the ladies… and how the ladies loved to talk when they perused my wares. I know your sort - a charmer, a snake - well you can't wind your way out of this one."
"You have me mistaken, I'm simply working your father's farm in return for food and shelter. I mean no harm…" Aramis held his hands up, trying to calm the situation.
"No harm? You're a wanted criminal! Do you really think I would leave you here with my father? Besides, there's a big reward on your head. I'll be rich and famous when I bring you in… I've alerted the local guardsmen, they'll be here soon. There's no escape Aramis - get on your knees." Henri shook the pistol in a threatening fashion.
Aramis growled and dropped down to the ground. He might be caught here but Athos and Porthos were still free… He turned to bare his hands, ready for them to be bound.
"That's it, good lad…" Henri said with a smirk. There was a pause and then a sudden strangled yell.
Aramis looked over his shoulder to find Porthos with his arm around Henri's neck. The choking man flailed up with the pistol and despite Porthos' attempt at grabbing the gun, it went off.
With a wide eyed gasp Aramis threw himself to one side.
"Aramis!" Porthos bellowed.
It was too late… he felt the shot graze the flesh of his arm. Though if he had been any later it would have been embedded in his chest. The young musketeer felt warm blood begin to spill down his arm and soak his shirt.
"I'm fine… I'm okay. Let's go." Aramis gasped. "Guards are on their way, we have to leave."
Porthos dropped Henri to the ground, unconscious, and went to help Aramis up.
Just as they dashed out of the barn Jacques came running over, doubtlessly alerted by the gunshot.
"My boy! My son!" He cried out at seeing Henri's still form in the doorway.
"I'm sorry Jacques, I'm sorry…" Aramis started, but Porthos pushed him in the direction of the stables and went to the old man.
"He's fine, he's just out cold. Your son was the one doing the shooting. When he wakes up he's going to tell you some crazy things about us, but just be assured we came here peacefully. We didn't want to bring any of this to your door. You were good to us Jacques, thank you."
"Porthos!" Athos came riding out holding the reins of Henri's horse. Aramis was close behind.
No doubt Porthos was loath to leave Fleur, but Henri's horse would be faster. He mounted and they took to the road. In the distance a dust cloud told of approaching riders. They were on the run again, and this time their whereabouts was known.