Note: Here you go Sue, don't say I never give you anything ;)
Just a little warning for this chapter - the language gets a bit crude.
Chapter Nine
When Athos first stirred to wakefulness it took a moment for him to orient himself. There was something soft beneath him, but his arms ached, and his head for that matter. Where was he? The hollow of a tree? A barn? His eyes flickered…
"Athos? Are you awake?" A voice came from opposite. Aramis? Porthos?
"Mmm…" It was the only response he could muster.
And then reality snapped back into place as a rough hand grasped his hair and pulled his head up.
"Looks like he is. So good of you to join us at last." It was the cruel voice of the young red guard.
Athos took in their surroundings in an instant. It seemed they were tied to posts in the stable of the inn they had just escaped from. Fresh straw cushioned the hard ground, and Aramis sat opposite. The young musketeer had concern in his eyes and a fresh bruise at his cheek. A flare of anger unfurled in Athos' heart.
"Are you alright?" Aramis asked, his eyes flicked warily to the guard.
Athos winced as the brute shook his head viciously. "Yes, I think he is, and what have I told you about speaking when you haven't been spoken to?"
The guard stalked over to Aramis.
"NO! Leave him!" Athos shouted, seeing what he was about to do.
A hefty boot struck Aramis' side. The young musketeer bit off a cry, but he went awfully pale and curled over as best he could.
"Aramis?" Athos' voice was frantic. If that blow had shifted bones… if they had punctured his lungs…
"I'm… fine." The young musketeer managed to grit out.
While Athos was happy to note no blood flecked his friend's lips he was reminded of his earlier words to Aramis… I'm not quite sure your definition of 'fine' is the same as everyone else's.
The red guard simply laughed and walked to the door. "Where is that dog of a musketeer? He was supposed to relieve me…"
With the guard's attention elsewhere Athos risked speaking under his breath. "Really Aramis, are you alright?"
Who knows what the guard had done while he'd been unconscious? Aramis had clearly suffered a blow to the face - that much he couldn't hide.
The young musketeer gave a tight smile. "Hurt like… hell, but no damage done".
"You're late, you wretch." The guard scowled at the doorway.
"So was your mother when she came to my room last night." Raoul's voice filtered through to them, and Athos couldn't help but smile at the insult.
A fading stream of curse words followed from the exiting red guard.
They watched Raoul warily as he sauntered in. The musketeer gave them each a once over and turned his attention to Aramis.
"I owe you a blow to the face…" Raoul crouched in front of the young musketeer and tilted his head to one side with a rough hand. "... but it looks like somebody else got there first."
Aramis defiantly pulled his head away from Raoul's hand and spoke angrily. "What are you doing consorting with them? For shame Raoul!"
"Well Jean was winning his hand when I left, but do not be fooled - he is playing for time, not winnings. The rest of the regiment will be here soon."
Ice ran through Athos' veins at hearing that. There would be no escaping the regiment. They had to get away now.
Raoul idly leaned against a post to watch them. "I can't believe it has come to this… I can't believe it is you three. You were always the favourites, you know? You were the best of us. And look how far you've fallen."
Athos didn't respond. He wasn't sure where Raoul was going with this. The musketeer was probably just rubbing their noses in it, and Athos wouldn't rise to any bait. He looked across at Aramis who was similarly unresponsive. The young musketeer stared vacantly at a spot on the ground… it was a little disconcerting.
Still, Raoul was not deterred. His eyes settled on Aramis. "You know what the only thing I can believe is? That you would think more with your dick than your head. The queen, Aramis? You can't get much more foolish than that. I almost didn't believe it. I didn't believe anyone, even you, would be that stupid. We were sent after you for treason, we weren't given much in the way of details… but tongues started wagging, and rumours started circulating. I would have took them for rumours, but then the pieces started fitting together… The queen being with child after all of these years… your little adventure at the convent…" Raoul barked a laugh. "A convent Aramis! Oh, you are bound for hell, you who reveres God so much… you must have offended him mightily with that act."
Each word was calculated to anger Aramis, but the young musketeer's eyes remained on the ground.
Raoul pressed on. "Tell me, just between us… was she worth it? I couldn't imagine fucking the queen. Tell me Aramis, you've rutted your way around Paris, was she the best of the lot? Were her lips more tender than every other whore's? Were her thighs milky white as they parted for you? When you sli-"
Raoul didn't get any further. He took a step back as Aramis surged to his feet with a roar. If his arms were not bound tight around the post the young musketeer would have knocked Raoul to the ground, and would no doubt be raining blow after blow upon him.
"How dare you speak of her so?!" Aramis pushed forwards, even as his arms held him back. It must have hurt, but he seemed beyond acknowledging pain.
"I think you have done more damage to her honour than I have." The musketeer laughed. He stood just out of range, mere inches away from Aramis, who was straining against his bonds, near enough growling. It brought to mind a dog on a leash, eager to take a bite out of an intruder that was just out of reach. "Words are nothing compared to what you have done. My words are not going to shame the queen any more than your lips did when you dared to kiss her. My words won't put a child in her belly... it is probably best the child died. If it were found out a bastard sat upon the throne I could not imagine the chaos. There would be such blood on your hands Aramis, count yourself lucky your bastard died when it did."
That sent Aramis into a new frenzy. He was pulling so hard Athos was amazed he hadn't dislocated a shoulder. In a way the blows of the red guard had hurt less than this.
"Aramis, sit down." Athos knew his words would have no effect. Still he felt moved to try. "He wants to hurt you and you're letting him. Calm yourself."
Aramis went on as if he hadn't heard a word Athos said.
Spittle flecked the air as the young musketeer yelled at Raoul. "Draw! Cut my bonds and give me my sword! If you be a man and stand by your words then draw!"
"You're a prisoner, I'm not giving you any weapons." Raoul leaned against a post with a slight smirk. "I was just curious. I wanted to know what it was like to bed the queen. Usually only kings have the pleasure. Was she good enough to risk death? Jesus, Aramis, the streets of Paris are lined with whores if you were that desperate. Or could you not even wait until you got home? You should have taken a nun, they're less lethal than royalty."
Aramis suddenly stilled, breathing hard. His gaze fell back to the middle distance. His words were barely audible when he spoke. "... I'm the lethal one."
Athos wasn't entirely sure what Aramis meant, but he didn't get a chance to consider the words further. The sound of a commotion outside met their ears.
"Ready their horse. It is mine, along with the prisoners." The loud voice of the older red guard filtered through the door.
"You cheated! I was winning fairly, you had that card up your sleeve! I know all the tricks." That was Jean, and he sounded furious.
"If you know all the tricks then you must have been winning by using them!" The guard shot back.
Raoul went outside to see what was happening.
The stable lad shot in and made for Henri, he was tacked up and led out in no time at all. Soon after the young red guard came in to untie Aramis. He was taken outside with his hands still bound together. The guard returned for Athos.
"I demand satisfaction!"
Athos blinked in the sudden daylight, having been taken from the musty, dim, air of the stable. The scene he met was a tense one. Jean stood with his sword brandished at the older red guard. The guard had his hand on the hilt of his own blade, but he was not yet drawn. Aramis stood by Henri, he had been tied to the saddle, and Athos was about to join him.
"You demand it do you? I think you are going to be disappointed!" Finally the older red guard drew his sword and the two soldiers set to trading blows in front of the inn.
Raoul circled them, shouting encouragement and laughing like a deranged hyena when Jean landed a blow. The young red guard set to tying Athos up, but he left the job half done on seeing his friend being pressed keenly. He jumped in with a cry, which then drew Raoul into the fray. The four of them turned the duel into more of a melee, leaving Aramis and Athos watching in stunned silence. But Athos was not going to let this opportunity slip by. He made short work of freeing his hands and leapt on to Henri's back. Just as he helped Aramis up the sound of many hooves clattering on the road reached them. The regiment were here!
Athos wasted no time in leaving when he saw the horsemen crest the hill to the inn.
"STOP!" A voice bellowed from amidst the small melee. But they were off, it was too late.
At a distance the fight with the red guard seemed to have caught the rest of the musketeers attention. Word probably had not reached them that Athos and Aramis had been captured. But as soon as the regiment reached the combatants they would very quickly hear about it, and the two musketeers would find themselves pursued. So Athos rode Henri off the path and through the undulating countryside once again.
They only stopped when Henri started to struggle. Luckily a small stream ran nearby, they were all eager to take a drink.
"Athos… my hands."
Athos slipped from the saddle and turned to find Aramis holding his still bound hands out. The older musketeer felt slightly bad, they had been so intent on escaping he hadn't given a thought to Aramis' bonds. He was still tied to the saddle.
"Ah… let me…" Athos retrieved his dagger to cut the rope. Aramis thankfully rubbed his wrists and went to soothe his sore flesh in the stream.
The water was ice cold as Athos cupped it in his hands, but it was undeniably refreshing. Then with a sigh he went to look through their belongings. Not everything had survived their capture and flight. One of the bags was missing with some food and clothes. Aramis' weapons were gone, but the young musketeer was relieved to find his little black horse figure was still there. Personally Athos would have preferred a blade, but whatever brought his friend comfort…
Aramis sat on a rock by the stream, turning the wooden horse over with tender fingers. He put it inside a shirt pocket when Athos came to sit by him, as if suddenly embarrassed.
"What Raoul said back there… he was just trying to rile you, you know that?"
"I know." Aramis let out a sigh and his eyes settled on the running water. "But his words went straight to my heart."
The young musketeer closed a fist over his chest. Whether he aimed for his heart or the golden cross Athos didn't know.
"I couldn't help myself". The fist tightened. "I wanted to hurt him… I wanted to wring his scrawny little neck. I'm not like you, I can't let it wash over me like water off a duck's back."
"Well, luckily for him you were tied up." Athos noted wryly.
"Why would he say those things? Why would he be so cruel? He was one of our brothers…" Aramis' fist relaxed and his hands dropped to his knee.
"Raoul has always been jealous. His words betrayed him… 'you were always the favourites'... Circumstance has let his jealousy turn to cruelty now we are seen as the enemy, and being one of our brothers he knows exactly how to twist the knife."
"If we ever meet again I'll be the one twisting the knife... ideally between his ribs."
"And I'll hold him down for you." Athos gave Aramis a pat on the shoulder, and then Henri drinking from the stream caught his eye and another tough subject jumped to mind. "We're going to have to sell Henri."
Aramis shot his head up to meet Athos' eyes. "What? Why? We need a horse, we need him-"
"He's too recognisable, and we can't both ride him, not for long anyway. He's tired out. But he's a good horse, we could buy two with the money we get from selling him."
"Two mules maybe." Aramis noted morosely.
"Better two mules than one fine charger on the verge of collapse. Besides, you underestimate my ability to bargain. I'll get a good price for him."
"What about our ever keen pursuers?"
"I'll go to sell him alone. Less chance of being recognised if we're apart. I'm sure we can slip around any guards." Athos had tried to speak positively, but the weight of their situation suddenly fell on him. "Truthfully we haven't much of a choice Aramis. We're not going to get far with one horse, and we just lost some of our supplies. We have to try our luck at the next town we come across."
"So it is that bad then?"
"Well, it isn't good, but we've faced worse."
A stray snowflake drifted down between the two men… Maybe worse was yet to come.
~oOo~
The roads seemed filled with patrolling red guard and musketeers, so Athos and Aramis kept to the countryside. Henri found it hard going. They ended up walking to give the horse a rest now and then. Snow had continued falling. It had not come down heavily but it was enough to cover the land in a light dusting of white. Athos didn't miss the way Aramis shivered and hunched against the cold. There seemed more to it than discomfort at the weather. He almost seemed to be shielding himself. The young musketeer was like it every year at the first sign of snow. Athos supposed it stirred bad memories. Even years afterwards the smallest of things could send you right back to a terrible moment in time. Athos himself couldn't keep a shiver from his frame when they passed a spray of blue flowers.
Eventually a town loomed on the horizon, just as the light was failing. The main gate was heavily guarded, but the two musketeers circled around the town wall, hoping to find a gap. It was an old stone construction, time and weather had crumbled it away in places. There were numerous holes and gaps, they just had to find one big enough to fit a horse through. When finally they found a spot Henri baulked at walking through it. It took no small amount of encouragement to get him to step forwards, eventually a slap on the rear had to be employed. They found themselves in a quiet churchyard amongst weathered graves and creaking trees. The snow and silence gave everything a haunted feel. Athos almost expected to see pale ghosts stood by their stone markers… After agreeing to meet back up at the hole in the wall they went their separate ways - Aramis to find food, Athos to sell Henri.
The horse trader wasn't hard to find. He had a row of horses tethered to a hitching post outside his stables. Each looked slightly malnourished and miserable. Athos very nearly turned around, but he just couldn't afford to. He could try selling Henri to anyone, but a horse trader was more likely to know the value of the animal, and more likely to buy. Athos would rather not risk having to show his face around dozens of people searching for one who wanted a horse. He only hoped Henri would sell quickly. Henri was a good horse, Athos felt sure he would not be with this man for long.
A man came out and started to untie the first horse, making to lead it back to the stable. He seemed to be putting them away for the night. The man was tall and well dressed, he seemed to spend more money on himself than his horses.
"A word, if you please, my friend." Athos tried to catch his attention.
"I'm closing for the night, come back tomorrow." The trader turned his back and kept walking.
"Monsieur, you will not want to miss the horse I'm offering you."
"I'm sure your horse is the fastest in France and has the strength to carry twenty men and their baggage. Every horse that comes to my door is the same. Come back tomorrow, he may be able to carry thirty men by then."
"Monsieur, I have another interested party, this horse will be gone tomorrow!"
At that the trader paused and glanced over his shoulder, no doubt expecting to see a nag of some sort. He did a double take on seeing Henri standing proud at Athos' side. The trader called over a stable lad and left his horse with the boy.
"Bring your horse over here, let me have a look at him."
Athos did as he was asked and the trader eagerly stepped forwards to run his hands over Henri. Seeming pleased he called over the stable boy again and told him to walk and trot the horse up and down.
"Hmm… do I see a bit of lameness in that off hind?"
"The light is not that good Monsieur, night is nearly upon us. He is sound, I guarantee it. He has carried me many miles, it is just the darkness that tricks your eyes."
"If he is so good then why do you seek to sell him?" The trader gave Athos a curious look.
"In truth, I could use the money. Besides, he is quite an eager young beast and I am getting older, I could do with something a little more laid back."
"Well, being but a poor horse trader I have not got much money of my own, I am not sure I can afford a horse of his worth… but I have many horses that would suit you. I would let you have one, nay - two!"
Athos cast a doubtful eye over the trader, his fine clothes gave his lies away. He had the money. Henri was worth at least four of this man's horses. Besides the terrible deal, Athos would rather buy new horses elsewhere. They would be too easily traceable if Henri was recognised - The trader would be able to tell any guards or musketeers exactly what horses he had sold in exchange for Henri.
"If you haven't got the money, the other interested dealer has. I will bid you goodnight." Athos went to take Henri's reins from the stable boy.
"Ah! Don't be too hasty now! I will have your horse, I will just have to see how much money I can scrape together. Will you come inside so we can do business like gentlemen?"
Athos nodded graciously and indicated the trader lead on. He would scrape together more than enough money by the time Athos was done.
"Peter, put this fine beast in the end stable, and put the others away." The trader spoke to the boy before waving Athos to his door.
Athos was pointed to a seat by the fire. He rubbed his hands before the flames, it seemed he only realised how cold he had been when he was in front of a fire.
"Will you have a drink with me, Monsieur...?"
"Armand, call me Armand." It seemed somehow amusing to use the cardinal's name. "And I will gladly have a glass of wine if you please."
"Eveline! Two glasses of our finest wine for me and my friend here!"
A worn looking woman stuck her head around the kitchen door and near enough grunted her assent.
While all of this was going on Athos was taking in his surroundings. There was an air of neglect to everything, but it seemed as if a sheen of polish had given the room a shining but false facade. Fabrics hung here and there, trying to give an air of opulence, but Athos knew them to be cheap. There was a bookshelf with hefty titled tomes, yet they looked untouched, there was hardly a crack on their spines. And all around were keepsakes, but only one or two looked of any worth. A sword stood on display above the hearth. It seemed to be well taken care of, but the overly elaborate hilt and etched blade said it was something more to be admired than used.
"Ah, you have noticed my sword. Isn't she a beauty? I have named her Heartstriker, for she strikes my heart with her beauty as she strikes the hearts of my enemies with her blade."
Athos gave a wry smile and a nod. He found those that named their swords and spoke about them so lyrically had little experience of the reality that they were simply tools for killing.
"She belonged to my father and my grandfather before him…"
The trader's story was interrupted by Eveline bringing in their wine. Athos took his with a gracious word of thanks.
"Oh Sacha, you do talk such rot. You brought that thing from a trader last month". She bustled out as quickly as she had bustled in, leaving Sacha near speechless.
Athos tried not to choke on his mouthful of wine.
"Yes… well… maybe she is thinking of my other sword. I have more than one you know. You never know when a spare might come in useful."
"Quite." Athos coughed and sipped at his wine a little more carefully. It wasn't the best wine he had sampled, but as he had been drinking from streams and the like of late it tasted as if it came from the best of the royal cellars.
"So, how did you come by such a fine horse my friend?"
Athos' mind raced to come up with a story. "He was a gift. I married well and the father of my wife gave him to me."
"My congratulations. You must have married very well indeed for him to give a horse of such quality away!"
"He has a stable full of such horses, in fact it is his business."
"And where would he happen to do such business?"
"A little place just outside Paris. You probably won't know it."
"Your father in law wouldn't be Rene would he? I know he trades near Paris and I have seen a few horses from his stud, they were mighty fine beasts indeed!"
"Yes, that's the man." If the trader was going to build his story for him, Athos would let him go ahead.
"Then you are lucky in your relations, you will never want for a good horse again. Did he bring you any news from Paris with this horse?"
"I can't say he did, he doesn't go into Paris often. The stud keeps him very busy, I'm sure you'll understand." Athos suddenly detected a strange change in their conversation.
"Ah yes, the horse business is very tiring and time consuming work. I just wondered at all these musketeers and red guard roaming the lands. I hear they're after wanted criminals, but we don't get to know much more than that. Anyway, did your wife help with the horses much? What did you say her name was?" Sacha was looking at Athos as if he were trying to work out a puzzle.
"I didn't… she's called Laure, and she is every bit as good as her father with the horses. As for the criminals, I know no more than you do."
"Well, at least we can be thankful that the roads are well guarded. I warrant the local bandits are having a hard time of it. As far as I'm concerned the criminals can stay." The trader gave a nervous laugh and eyed his sword. "So, down to business… If you will excuse me for one moment I will just check my funds."
The trader got up and made his way to the kitchen. He was only gone a few minutes before returning with a small chest, he set it down on a nearby table and took his seat, seeming strangely on edge. Did he suspect something? Surely not… but he had not been gone long enough to count his funds, unless he had so little there was nothing there to count. He had money. Athos was sure of it. The fine clothes and the expensive sword told of a man who liked to spend money on himself. The opulent facade of the room said he wanted to give a good impression, if not waste time or money on it… Why else would he have gone in the kitchen, if not to fetch his funds? It was a strange place to keep money, no doubt, but sometimes people liked to hide their riches. Now Athos felt he was working out the puzzle, and it was adding up to nothing good.
Athos picked up his empty glass. "Another?"
"Let me fill that for you." Sacha reached for the glass.
"Why not call your wife to do the honours?"
"She has… gone out."
"Alone, at this time of night?"
"She is very… independant. I will be just a moment" The trader snatched up their glasses and made for the kitchen once again.
Athos took the opportunity to go and open the chest. Inside he found a few spices. There was not a coin in sight. Something wasn't right here… a sense of danger suddenly flooded the air. Athos snatched up the sword from above the hearth.
When Sacha came back through the door Athos threw a handful of spices to the air. "What is this?!"
The trader set down their glasses and nervously swallowed. "Come sit my friend, we can talk about this…"
"You will talk, and explain yourself. Where has your wife gone?" Athos pointed the sword at Sacha's throat. It was not well balanced, but it was serviceable.
"I suspected… and she thought so too… you're one of them aren't you? The criminals?"
"Your wife, where is she?" Athos growled.
"You see, I know Rene, he's a good friend of mine. Though I haven't seen him in many years. He has a daughter, but she is named Sarah, and she was sent away for schooling at a young age, she knows nothing of horses." The trader's words came suddenly and fast with fear.
Athos bristled at the holes in his story. How had he fallen flat on his face so spectacularly? Still, he had the feeling Sacha was stalling for time. "Answer me, dammit! Where did your wife go?"
The words were reluctant and quiet. "To fetch the guard."
Between one breath and the next Athos rushed forwards to knock Sacha out with his pommel. He was at the door before the trader's body hit the floor. The musketeer walked in a hurry, he didn't want to attract attention by running, but he needed to get away. Just as he turned down a shadowed street a contingent of guards ran towards the house from a road opposite. They bore torches and baying hounds on chains. Merde… dogs! Athos wasted no time. He was out of sight and he ran.
The sound of shouting and barking seemed to echo through the streets all around Athos as he hared away. He felt like a rabbit being chased for game. The church spire came into view above the rooftops and Athos gave a quick prayer, hoping that Aramis was already back at the wall. He leapt the small fence around the churchyard and weaved around the snow covered graves. When his foot caught on a stray stone he nearly crashed to the ground before catching his balance again. His throat felt raw gasping at the cold air, but relief flooded through Athos - standing by the wall, there was Aramis!
"Run!" He shouted under his breath, careening towards the young musketeer.
Aramis shifted his full bag further up his shoulder. "What happened?"
"No time! Run!" Athos picked up his own bag and pushed Aramis towards the gap in the wall, hoping he would get the message.
Both of them slipped through the hole and set to running. Their tracks in the snow would be easily followed, even if dogs weren't on their trail. Athos headed for a wooded area up ahead, it would be easier to lose them amongst the trees. It would be easier, but it would not be easy. An eager barking rent the air behind and Athos lengthened his stride. He swept past Aramis, but did not go so fast as to lose his friend. Athos felt his feet grow wet and cold with every step, the snow was thicker out here, and his boots were worn. But he couldn't slow down. His chest was starting to burn, as was his side with this sudden exertion. Aramis must have been suffering with his sore ribs. Athos kept snatching glances over his shoulder, ensuring that the young musketeer was keeping up. Aramis' face was drawn, and his arm clutched at his chest, but he kept the pace well enough.
Just as they reached the tree line Athos shot a last glance over his shoulder. Against the snow covered ground he saw several dark shapes heading their way at speed. Behind them the light of numerous torches emerged from the wall. He ran between the trees, longing to yell some encouragement to Aramis, but his lungs were straining to keep him on his feet.
It was darker amidst the looming boughs, close growing branches had stopped too much snow reaching the ground. Though he was loath to start slowing down, Athos didn't want to risk falling over an unseen root. A distant howl penetrated the trees and all thought of slowing down flew from Athos' head. He kept charging onward, his limbs grew heavy and a sick feeling threatened, but he would run as long as his body could take it. He just feared that Aramis' wouldn't.
The crash seemed inevitable. Aramis hit the ground without making a single sound. His lungs were entirely occupied with dragging in breath after breath. He lay still in the dirt, chest heaving, not even making a move to get up.
Athos dropped to his knees beside the young musketeer. "Get up. You have to get up."
"Can't…" was all Aramis managed.
And Athos understood, he really did. Now he was on his knees his body was begging him to stay there. But dogs and men were coming. They had to move.
When a chorus of barking reached them a sudden spike of adrenaline lent Athos the strength to lift his friend. They staggered on, Athos pulling Aramis along. They managed a short intermittent jog. It wouldn't be enough to outrun the dogs, but perhaps they would find a hollow to hide in, or a stream to mask their scent.
They hadn't managed to find a thing before the sound of paws dashing along the ground reached them. The next thing Athos knew, something heavy collided with his back, sending both men crashing to the ground. A strong jaw clamped around Athos' arm, and everything exploded with pain.