Chapter Five
During the night Aramis' breathing took on a horrible rasping quality. By morning his eyes were glassy and he was far too hot.
Athos pressed a cold hand to the young musketeer's forehead and sighed. "He's running a fever… but his wounds were not infected when last I checked."
He looked at the injuries to Aramis' chest and arm once again and found them clean. Just then Aramis started to cough, and did his best to suppress it.
"It's his chest… he's not been breathing right." Porthos rolled Aramis on to his side as he struggled to to take in air.
The young musketeer wrapped his arms tight around his chest as if he were trying to hold himself together. He coughed and choked with eyes tight shut against the pain. Athos rubbed his back again while Aramis moaned between snatched breaths. Eventually the coughing abated leaving Aramis gasping with a trail of spittle and mucus running between his lips. Wordlessly Athos wiped it away and helped Porthos settle him back down.
Aramis blinked hard. "Don't feel… well."
"No, you're not… Rest Aramis, don't try to speak. You'll feel better soon."
Porthos looked at Athos with a stony glint in his eyes. "Will he?"
"Yes, we're going to get out of here and he'll get better…" The exhaustion was weighing on Athos too, he sounded completely drained.
"Wishing won't make it so Athos." Porthos cast a look to the door. "There's a physician in town. I'll get something to help… I'm going, no matter what you say."
"Porthos… don't be a fool.".
"I won't sit here and watch him die!"
"He's not dying!" Athos summoned a last bit of energy to shout.
"Isn't he? His lungs are infected and he's been beaten half to hell. There's hardly a scrap of meat on him - on any of us - and you want to go hauling him across the country. If he's not dying he will be!"
Athos looked down at Aramis, worried that Porthos' outburst had scared him. But the young musketeer's eyes were darting about the room after nothing, his breath came in strained wheezes.
"Go then…"
"I will return." Porthos clapped Athos on the shoulder and got to his feet. "Look after him."
While Porthos was gone Aramis fell into fevered ramblings. There was little sense in his words… a few sentences of scripture… a proclamation of love for a long forgotten lady… but most were unintelligible.
Suddenly the young musketeer's eyes shot wide open and his good arm reached for Athos' wrist.
"Don't leave me! Please don't leave!" He looked terrified.
"I won't, I'm right here Aramis, I'm not going anywhere…" The tight grip on his wrist was starting to hurt.
"Don't leave me with them… Marsac, please!"
So it was Savoy that Aramis was seeing. His breath started to stutter amidst his panic. Athos pulled Aramis' fingers from his wrist and took the shaking hand in both of his own.
"It's Athos and you are far, far away from that place. Marsac is long dead and buried in the ground. Listen to me Aramis - He's not here, none of them are."
Aramis looked at him with an expression of pure confusion before lying his head back down and succumbing to a fit of coughing. Athos rolled him over, it was horrible to watch the young musketeer struggle. After placing a cloth to Aramis' mouth Athos quietly cursed at seeing it stained with spittle and mucus... at least there were no flecks of blood. His lungs were not damaged, just diseased. Still… that was enough. Athos hated sickness, it always left him feeling helpless. With injuries you could do something - you could stitch wounds and splint bones, but disease had to be waited out. You were entirely in the hands of God when illness struck.
Eventually the coughing stilled, but Aramis was making horrendous gasping sounds. It was as if he couldn't get air into his lungs, he was snatching at it, but not gaining anything. Athos eased the young musketeer up and sat behind him. With Aramis' trembling form resting against his chest Athos could feel the heat of his skin through both their shirts.
"Aramis, I need you to breathe in. Steady now… you feel my chest at your back? Try to match it…"
Athos stopped talking for a moment and drew in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. He could feel Aramis shudder in a slight breath and let it go.
"That's it, try again… breathe with me now. We'll do this together."
Aramis took in another weak breath, not quite able to match Athos, but trying anyway. Although the musketeer kept wheezing his breathing settled into something of a rhythm and the terrible gasping ceased.
When Porthos came back he found them in the same position - Aramis resting in Athos' arms, both of them quiet… simply breathing.
"How is he?" Worry creased Porthos' brow.
"No better, no worse... It's good to see you made it back alive anyway."
A smile nearly pulled at the corner of Porthos' lips. He went to ferret through his bag and retrieved a couple of bottles.
"I picked up some food and water as well as these. One is for the pain, one will help with the fever. The physician said he needs to breathe deep, he'll be able to do that if his ribs don't hurt." He came to kneel beside the two men and handed Athos a bottle.
"Aramis, take a sip of this, it'll make you feel better…" Athos put the bottle to his lips and the young musketeer managed to drink a little. He went for the other one and gave Porthos a pointed look. "Pray tell, how did you come by all of this?"
"People are very eager to help those in need, especially when a loaded pistol is involved…"
"Porthos…" His name was said in a chastising manner. "He could have called the guard down on you!"
"I was long gone before he had the chance to reach any guards… They are organising though, the cardinal's men are here too. I saw them arrive… along with some musketeers."
At that Athos' face paled. "They are sending our own regiment after us?"
"Well, Aramis is accused of treason against the king, and musketeers are supposed to protect the king… They probably think those that know us best will be able to find us too."
"Did you recognise any of them?"
"Julien and Andre might have been amongst them, but I didn't stick around to look. Think we might be able to persuade someone to turn a blind eye while we escape?"
Athos seemed to think about it for a moment before shaking his head. "It's too risky. Wait until it gets dark and then go to fetch the horses. We can give Aramis more of this pain tincture for the journey, he'll be alright… we cannot linger any longer."
At that Porthos gave a firm nod of agreement.
~oOo~
Once again Athos found himself tending Aramis while Porthos fetched their horses. Night had fallen but the darkness was not complete. A full moon gave enough light to see by. It shone through the shattered windows casting shadows amidst the debris of the building. Athos just stared mutely towards the doorway, hoping for Porthos to step through and fearing a guard would instead. All was silent but for the ramblings of Aramis, his fever bright eyes glinted in the moonlight.
Suddenly Athos heard footsteps outside. The light of a torch flickered as somebody passed the window… Athos bundled Aramis up in his arms again and whispered a slight "hush" at his ear. Surely Porthos would not be foolish enough to light up a torch?
There was a scrabbling sound outside and a voice shouted. "Show yourself!" An anxious beat passed by… "Damned cat… just a mangy stray." The footsteps resumed their walk.
Athos' breath caught in his chest. There was somebody out there. And Aramis had not quietened down. Words kept spilling from his lips and they became more frantic as Athos clutched at him. He seemed to imagine he was in the grip of some enemy.
"Let me go!" A sudden shout broke from the young musketeer.
"Quiet Aramis! Please be quiet!" Athos hissed.
"Get awa-"
Athos cut Aramis off by clapping a hand over his mouth. Even as weak as he was the young musketeer managed to put up quite a struggle.
"Shut up… Aramis, for mercy's sake shut up."
A muffled yell sounded against his hand.
The torch was thrust through the broken doorway and swept back and forth. Athos caught sight of its light being thrown high up the wall, thankfully they were concealed from view with the small barricade Porthos built… but if the intruder decided to come in and look around they were done for.
"Who goes there? Show yourself!" The guard's voice bounced around the walls, he sounded young, and quite familiar… one of the musketeers perhaps.
Aramis writhed against Athos, and then he stilled, beginning to choke… oh no… If he were succumbing to a coughing fit there was no chance of keeping him quiet. Athos tightened his hand over Aramis' mouth, hating himself for making it even harder to breathe. Though better this than being found - the hangman's noose would make breathing harder still.
Aramis strained and struggled, gasping and heaving against Athos' restraining hands. But Athos had his eyes firmly on the torch… It advanced inside, illuminating the figure bearing it - Marius… a musketeer indeed. Not one Athos knew well. He was a fairly new recruit, not much older than d'Artagnan but more wet behind the ears.
"I know there's somebody in here." Marius strode forwards with all the ill placed confidence of youth. "If you come out I will not shoot!"
Athos felt Aramis' chest go into spasms… it was over, he couldn't do this any more. His hand slipped away and Aramis bent forwards, hacking cough after cough before gasping at the air. Marius rushed around the crates and raised his pistol at them.
"Athos!" He seemed astounded to find them there.
"You can put the pistol down… we're no danger to you." Athos sounded utterly resigned.
The gun didn't waver. "On your feet, you're coming with me. Have you any weapons?"
Athos raised a tired finger to point out his sword in the corner with their scant belongings.
"Get up, on your feet." Marius waved the pistol eagerly.
"Alright…" Athos carefully slid himself out from around Aramis who was still curled up, struggling for breath. "Why not put the gun away? I told you we're no danger."
"Get him up too."
"Does he look like he can walk?" A note of irritation crept into Athos' voice.
And then there was the beautiful sound of another gun cocking.
"They might not be a danger to you, but I am." Porthos stepped forwards out of the shadows, his own pistol trained on Marius. The musketeer hadn't been joking when he said he could avoid being seen if he wished…
"What if I shoot first?" The confidence had drained from his voice now, Marius sounded more like a scared boy.
"You won't." In contrast Porthos remained calm and cool, though his voice held a dangerous edge. "Put the gun down and we can talk. Keep hold of it and I can't guarantee you'll leave here alive."
"You wouldn't…" Marius paused to lick his dry lips. "... you wouldn't kill one of your own."
"Oh didn't you hear?" Porthos let his voice drop to a sinister level. "We've been cast out, we're criminals now… treasonous… murderous… We're not above taking lives - the smith's boy could tell you that if his throat wasn't slit."
At that Marius crouched down to place his pistol on the ground. Athos rushed forwards to pick it up.
"That's better, now let's have a talk…" Porthos pushed the lad down to sit on the ground while Athos went to tend to Aramis. "Who are you on patrol with? You wouldn't have been sent out here on your own."
"Andre… but he left me, he saw a…" Marius blushed slightly in the torchlight. "He went with a…"
"Let me guess: a girl?" Porthos raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, one of them." Marius looked away, embarrassed.
"I don't care what he's up to, I only care that he's left you alone. You're a good lad Marius, I always liked you."
At that the boy looked up with a smile.
"I know you think you're doing the right thing turning us in, but this is the cardinal's doing, you know that right? We're no more treasonous than you are." Porthos gripped Marius' shoulder, trying to make a connection with the boy.
"I've got my orders... I have to bring you in." Marius' eyes seemed apologetic. He was wavering.
"If you were ordered to shoot your own mother would you? Orders aren't always right, especially when they lead back to the cardinal… you know in your heart what feels right."
"Well… a few of us aren't all that happy about coming after you truth be told."
Porthos was winning Marius over. "You can let us go and nobody need know of this."
Marius frowned for a moment. "You wouldn't get far, all the ways out of town are being watched… Although I am due to relieve the guard on the east road over the river in half an hour. I doubt Andre will be back in time. I could let you… No, no… I can't, they would have my head if they found out."
"Look, Aramis is sick, we need to get him out of here." As if on cue the young musketeer gave a harsh cough and Athos rubbed his back. "You don't want him to die do you? Either sickness or the hangman's going to take him if you don't let us go."
"And the hangman will have me if I let you go!"
At that Athos cleared his throat. "We can always knock you out. Then you can claim we attacked you, and we'll be long gone by the time they send anyone after us."
Porthos tried to give a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. I'll leave you pretty."
Marius blanched. "Alright then."
~oOo~
They had half an hour and it passed by far too quickly. The musketeers gathered their belongings and hurriedly packed them away in saddlebags. Their horses stood ready where Porthos had tied them, their black coats made them mere shadows in the moonlight. Before long Marius left for his post… it was nearly time.
Athos had a dreadful feeling about all of this. They had pinned everything on Marius being reliable - it was not a sound tactic in Athos' mind. "Are you sure we can trust him? He could go right back and tell them where we are."
"We have no choice but to trust him. Unless you would rather look for another way out? If we find any guards I could provide a distraction while you…"
"No, we stick together, I'm not risking you getting left behind or caught… but if we do get separated we can meet at that hollowed out tree in the woods, the one we took shelter in remember?" Athos secured his last bag and went to mount his horse.
"Yes, I know the one. Hold up, you take Henri, he'll be faster with two people, I'll ride your horse and lead Aramis'." Not knowing the horse's name they had taken to calling him after his master, no matter how distasteful the man had been.
Athos nodded his agreement and went to mount Henri while Porthos led over a very shaky Aramis. Porthos hefted him up in front of Athos as easily as if were lifting a child. The young musketeer was in no state to ride his own horse, Storm, so they decided Athos would ride with him.
Aramis' head lolled back against Athos' shoulder, but he was pleased to note he didn't feel as warm as before. The tincture Porthos had brought back must have been taking an effect. Carefully Athos placed his arm around Aramis' chest, mindful of his broken ribs, and with the other he took up Henri's reins. The lively horse gave a snort and set off at a brisk walk with Porthos following close behind.
As the three musketeers made their way to the bridge they heard the town bell strike the hour. If all was well Marius would be taking his post… Thankfully the outskirts of the town were quiet, a curfew seemed to have been imposed. An inn stood at the path leading into town, normally such places were full of raucous drinking and gambling, but tonight it stood silent. There wasn't a soul to be seen apart from the odd guard. They had to circle back to avoid a patrol, but the three musketeers managed to make it unhindered.
A well worn road stood ahead, lined either side by trees and thick undergrowth. The pale moonlight cast strange shadows and washed the colours of the world into hues of silvered grey. It seemed quite unsettling… Athos shivered, though he blamed it on the frigid air. They rode on at a slower walk, listening out for any rustle in the bushes that might betray an ambush. But Athos heard nothing more than the rasping breath of Aramis at his ear.
The noise of the river reached them as they neared the bridge. It was not the widest of rivers, but it was swollen with rain water and made quite a roar rushing under the small stone bridge. On the bank a figure stood to attention - Marius. But Athos felt no relief, not yet… he would not feel safe until they were well away from here. His heart was racing fit to burst through his chest, the hand that held Aramis was clammy with sweat. This was the moment… They would stand or fall on the trust they placed in this young man.
Athos urged his horse on, behind him he heard Porthos swear at Aramis' mount - taking advantage of having no rider Storm was pulling away to eat at the bushes. But Athos couldn't smile nor summon a wry comment, he just held on to Aramis a little more tightly. The man wheezed a slight cough and lay still. They had given him more of the pain medication to make riding a little more comfortable. Athos hoped it was working… they would have to go at a faster pace as soon as the bridge was crossed.
"Marius? Is everything alright?" The boy's hat concealed his features in the half light, but when he looked up Athos couldn't help but notice his eyes were wide with fear.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know…" Marius' voice shook, but he didn't get to say any more before Andre stepped out from behind a tree to level a pistol at Athos. With their hands full Athos and Porthos had no chance to draw their own guns out first.
"Well well, look who it is - the Inseparables!" He leered up at them with a smug grin.
Andre had never gotten along with them. He had been with the regiment a long time and seemed to envy Athos being given command.
"So you were finished with your business quite quickly then?" The bottom had dropped out of Athos' heart, but he couldn't help but get a dig in.
After scowling at Athos the musketeer went to point his gun at Porthos. There was even less love lost between those two men… In Andre's eyes Porthos was a criminal who should never have been allowed into the regiment.
"I always knew I'd end up chasing you down like a dog, but not Athos and Aramis… I suppose you corrupted them like you tried to corrupt Marius. Yes, I heard every word of it."
"Your little liaison didn't go to plan then? And to think you deserted your post for that." Porthos tutted.
"You shut your mouth." Andre walked a bit closer and levelled his pistol at Porthos' head. "You're the treasonous scum here. Lucky I came across your little plot with Marius when I did, I've saved the lad from your malign influence. Aren't you grateful boy?" He shouted at Marius over his shoulder.
"Y… yes sir." He stuttered.
"Creeping around and eavesdropping, that's you all over isn't it Andre? - And he has no command, you don't need to call him 'sir'." Porthos spat at Andre's feet causing him to take a step back.
"And that's just the sort of disgusting behaviour I'd expect from one of you gutter rats. Now get down from your horses."
"We're leaving Andre, and you're not going to stop us." Porthos gave a firm pull on Storm's reins, the horse's head shot out of the trees and he skittered into Andre's path.
The musketeer cursed and quickly backed out of the way. He brushed himself down and regained his composure. "Well if I don't stop you, one of these men will."
On a shrill whistle from Andre a host of guards stepped out of the undergrowth and lined the path behind. Athos felt frozen to the spot as he stared down the barrels of a dozen muskets. Visions of a scaffold and noose flashed before his eyes, and then a voice broke through...
"Athos! Go!" Porthos bellowed.
Athos didn't need telling twice. Adrenaline shot through him like lightning. He dug his heels into Henri and the horse darted off across the bridge, but three more guards blocked the other side with their muskets at the ready. Henri came to a halt and Athos swore as the horse's front legs threatened to rear up. He danced on the spot, wanting to run but not being able to...
Then shots sounded from behind and the clatter of hooves on stone followed. Aramis' horse streaked past, taking flight in fear. Storm seemed a black shadowed beast in the night. He knocked the guards down and kept going. Their way was clear! Henri was eager to follow after his friend and needed no urging to gallop on. Athos held on to Aramis tightly, his heart racing as fast as his horse's hooves. But where was Porthos?! Athos couldn't turn to see, not with Aramis in his arms…
The cold wind whipped Athos' face and brought tears to his eyes as they rode over rolling hills towards the wood. Storm soon outpaced Henri, unburdened as he was. The black shadow disappeared from sight. Still there was no sign of Porthos. Athos listened out for the sound of a horse galloping behind, a lone horse might be Porthos, any more and it meant guards… but there was nothing. A voice at the back of his head told Athos Porthos was dead. Shots were fired… he must have been hit, and he let Aramis' horse go as he fell. But another part of Athos was defiant - Porthos would have let Storm go to draw his own pistol, he would have fought fiercely! He got away… He'll find us.
Athos did not dare to stop until they reached the tree line. Only then did he turn Henri about to look back over the hills… there was nothing but a sea of grass turned grey in the moonlight. No riders, no Porthos… The adrenaline was starting to ebb away now. Athos found himself having to catch his breath and he realised he was shaking slightly. The horse sweated and panted beneath him, they all needed some rest. He had to find the hollow tree - Porthos would meet them there.
Slowly they made their way through the trees, Athos was eager to stay away from any well trodden paths through the woods. It slowed Henri down even more as the horse became more careful with his footing. Twigs and branches snapped beneath his hooves, they cracked like gunshots in the night… Gunshots. Porthos. It played through Athos' mind over and over. He tried to rake over every detail, but the details eluded him. Adrenaline had Athos very firmly in fight or flight territory, and everything in him screamed out to fly. He had to get Aramis out of there… he thought Porthos would follow across the bridge. But there were shots instead… and the clatter of hooves on stone. Shots and hooves. What was he missing? Shots and hooves… there had been no yell. Porthos may not have been hit! But that meant nothing, Porthos could have taken a shot without a word. Adrenaline could keep a man going long after he should have fallen… and Athos was so taken up in his flight he might have missed it. No. There were certain sounds that pierced through everything to strike you in the heart. A mother hearing their child cry. A brother shouting in pain… He would have heard it.
Porthos would find them.
Athos brought Henri to a halt as they reached an ancient oak tree. It was half dead and half fallen, but the trunk had a hollow large enough for men to shelter in. Athos slid from the saddle and helped Aramis down before securing Henri and taking his tack off. The hollow was not at all pleasant to bed down in. A layer of dead leaves and other woodland debris had gathered inside. While it was softer to sit on than the hard ground outside, it was damp and there was a certain scent of decay in the air. It would do Aramis no good to stop here. But they would not be here for long... as soon as Porthos arrived they could leave.
Finally having stopped, Athos felt all strength desert him. He pulled Aramis into his arms, sharing body heat and some small sense of comfort. Weariness covered him like a blanket. As Athos blinked heavily and tried to fend off sleep he tried to think of the good things… They had escaped, Aramis was still with them, he hadn't suffered during their flight… and Porthos was coming.