Chapter XXIV
It was late July and it was a blessing to have left Paris where the heat was starting to become unbearable. In the countryside, the air was a little more breathable. The journey to Versailles had been quick. The Musketeers had been there numerous times with the King whenever he wished to hunt. However, it would be the first time the Queen actually stayed. When she had come in the past, it was only for a day. There had been building work undertaken in order to extend the small hunting lodge.
Aramis wondered how he would manage to avoid the Dauphin as much as he could in such a reduced space. The last he had seen of him was when Marguerite held him in her arms while coming out of the carriage. His arms had been swinging in front of him, there had been a big smile on his face and his hat had fallen from his head. The soldier would have reached for it if Athos had not been by his side to step on his foot.
"Remember your place," he had said between his teeth.
For the past three days, the King had left for a hunt in the morning, then had taken his lunch somewhere in the forest before getting on his horse again. The entire party had come back to the castle quite late at night. The Musketeer did not have to worry about a chance encounter with the Queen or her son. At night they slept in the wing which was still under construction. The work had stopped because His Majesty was on the grounds. Most of the doors and the windows were missing from this precarious and disorganized military barracks. On the bright side, the men were never hot at night. As long as they did not have to fight a summer storm, they would be fine.
Aramis was appointed personal guard to the King and was constantly riding by his side. The conversation was always dull when you could not disagree with your ruler. He could hardly fire either as it would not have been well appreciated if it had prevented Louis XIII from killing a deer or a boar. The King behaved like a child every time he missed a shot, always blaming the weapon. On the other hand, he did succeed in killing a boar and the company did not hear the end of it for the rest of the day.
Today did not start well. The castle was too small and the King's apartments were touching the Queen's which was not the case in Paris. The Dauphin, being a teething baby, had kept on crying and screaming all night long. His father was all but pleased with it and he was taking it on his servants and the riders. Then, his hunting gun did not work the first time they spotted a deer. The King threw it on the ground with anger. Aramis patiently dismounted to pick it up. He could not see what was wrong with it, but he was sure he did not want His Majesty to use it again. God knew what would happen if it did not deign work again.
"Your Majesty should take mine. I have cleaned it last night. It will work perfectly."
"It better," the King muttered, almost snatching it from the Musketeer's hand. The horses resumed trotting again. Aramis looked behind him, desperately looking for his friends. He spotted them at the rear of the group and sighed when he saw how they seemed to be enjoying themselves.
"On your right, your Majesty!" a beater shouted. There were two bucks galloping towards them. The King aimed and shot, touching one of them. It jerked but it did not stop. Its pace was slower, yet it was definitely going to escape.
"Finish it off!" he ordered Aramis who looked at him in surprise before aiming as well. He did not want to find out what would trigger the monarch's wrath the most: having a soldier finish off his kill, or having a soldier let the wounded animal escape.
The shot was easy. Aramis fired quickly. Then everything happened very fast. The shotgun did fire and the buck did fall to the ground: so the King's weapon had simply malfunctioned earlier. It also malfunctioned this time. When he fired, Aramis's face was covered in powder, and the noise was so great that it scared off his horse. The animal kicked out and reared up. Since he had let go of the reins to aim, Aramis could not hold on to anything and was sent to the ground. His head hit a tree root. His right foot was stuck in the stirrup and it considerably hurt when the horse started to get away to flee the noise, dragging the Musketeer behind him.
"Stop this horse! Captain Tréville! One of your Musketeers is down! What are you waiting for? Stop this horse!" The King was yelling orders to his entourage, most of the men clueless on what they were to do. In the end, d'Artagnan caught up with the distressed horse, calming it down until it stopped moving.
He hurried to help his friend. Aramis could only see a blur made of colourful spots. It hurt to even raise his head. When he touched the back of it, his fingers became sticky. Was he bleeding?
"Are you all right?"
"I will be fine," Aramis mumbled. "Help me up, will you?" d'Artagnan went to take his foot off the stirrup but the other yelled out in pain as soon as he touched it. A string of curses escaped his lips.
"I think you need a physician."
"Help me up," Aramis said, gritting his teeth. His friend obeyed although he looked deeply concerned. He cursed some more until he could hop and stand somewhat upright on his left foot. The right one hurt too much to put weight on it.
"Are you good, Aramis?" Captain Tréville asked, taking in the bloodied fingers and the way he wobbled on his legs.
"I believe he needs a physician," d'Artagnan insisted. "The ankle might be sprained."
"Nonsense. I am perfectly...ouch." Aramis had been holding on to his friend but when the younger moved away and he was left on his own, his right foot touched the ground and it became clear that hunting was over for him.
"Your Majesty? I am afraid this man must be taken care of. He is injured."
The King had dismounted as well and he had gone to check on his latest kill. The two shots were clean, and he seemed to be happy once again. He barely heard the Captain, and only realized something had happened when he noticed the crowd gathering around Aramis. Porthos was holding him up, Aramis's arm around his shoulders.
"Is Monsieur Aramis recovered from his fall? We make quite a remarkable team. More preys are awaiting us."
"I fear not, your Majesty," the Captain repeated. "He cannot put his foot down. We should bring him back to the castle."
The King covered his mouth with his handkerchief at the sight of blood. He dismissed the Captain with a slight move of the hand.
"Of course, of course. Bring him back and have my surgeon look at his wounds. I need him back on both feet as soon as possible."
"Athos, Porthos, take him back. D'Artagnan, stay close to the King. You are taking over Aramis's position for the time being."
"Must you always gather all the attention?" Porthos joked, half-dragging his friend to his own horse. The pain was beginning to be too much for the other. Perspiration was dripping in his eyes, burning them. He cursed again when he had to mount the horse.
Aramis was lying on his campbed, a bandage around his head to stop the bleeding. He had been given some medicine for the pain, but his ankle still hurt each time he moved it. His friends had had to restrain him while the physician was taking off his boot. It had been painful and it was doubtful that someone in the house had missed his shouts.
He hated himself for being so clumsy and falling off the horse. Now, he was apart from Elise and he was stuck in his bed. He did not know for how long riding a horse was out of the question, but it did not look promising.
"Admit it, you wanted to show off." Porthos was sitting by his side, holding a fresh and cold new bandage for his ankle. His friend welcomed the soothing feeling when it was applied to his swollen flesh. It hurt to raise his head but he still saw that his foot was changing colour and becoming more and more purple.
"You are lucky I cannot stand up to make you shut your mouth."
"Dear Lord! What happened to you?" a shocked female voice suddenly asked. Aramis recognized it.
"Good afternoon to you, Marguerite. What brings you to us on this fine day?"
"We heard shouts so the Queen sent me to find out what was going on."
"How very nice of her. You may tell her that this Musketeer cannot stay properly on a saddle and fell head first." Porthos stood up quickly to avoid Aramis's fist.
"Shut up. It was a simple shooting incident but the King is fine and he will return with at least one dead buck."
"Very well, but what about you? Are you going to be fine?"
"I'm as solid as a rock. I'll be back on my horse in no time." He cracked a smile at her then lay down again since it hurt too much. Marguerite bowed her head before leaving to report the news to the Queen.
"She is pretty. I could see why you liked her."
"I'm married, Porthos." If his wife could be here to nurse him like she promised she would, he would have felt slightly better. The thought of having to spend the night in pain by himself in a room full of his companions was deeply annoying.
The King was not pleased to find out that his favourite Musketeer shooter could not come with him the day after. Even though his head had stopped bleeding, Aramis would not be able to ride a horse. He could barely take a few steps without tripping. He watched his friends ride off with a heavy heart.
Staying on his bed was driving him mad with boredom, though. It was all very quiet in the house, the servants had this incredible power to become completely silent if they wished to. The Musketeer drifted back to sleep after taking more medicine for the pain, and when he woke up again, the sun was high in the sky. He was also starving. If only he had a bell like the royals to summon a valet.
Very slowly and painfully, he made his way out of the room. He had to stop every few minutes to rest and catch his breath. He would not faint; the others would remind him of it until he died. After a long journey, he reached the entrance of the house. The front door was closed but the French windows at the back were wide open, the curtains blowing slightly with the wind.
"Can I help you, Aramis?" a guard asked.
"I'm going to the kitchen."
"Should you be up and about with such an injury? It looks painful."
"It is," the Musketeer groaned.
"I will find someone to bring you some food. In the mean time, sit down and keep an eye on them for me, will you?"
Aramis all but collapsed in the armchair close to the windows. They opened on a marbled terrace and then on a large park with oak trees. His eyes swept over the landscape to find the people he was supposed to be watching. He spotted the white canopy with the two guards at the front. Under it, the Queen was sitting down on a fur rug, the Dauphin lying next to her. Marguerite was closed by as always, reading a book.
He knew he should not try anything. On the one hand, it was dangerous as they were not alone and on the other hand, the mere thought of taking another step was excruciating. They were so close, though.
Aramis stood up and limped outside, balancing himself with his hands on a table. The closest chair fell down with a rattle and the women looked up in his direction. Marguerite was summoned to the Queen's side before she walked up to the soldier.
"The Queen has invited you to join us. She wishes to inquire about your injury."
"I am not dressed to meet with the Queen. It would hardly be proper."
She looked at him, a bandage still around his head and a dirty shirt on his back. He was also barefoot because where was the point in wearing a sole shoe after all?
"I agree with you, yet one does not say no to his Queen. Come on." She started down the stairs only to turn around when she noticed that Aramis had a hard time following her. It had been months since he had decided to put an end to their affair. Besides, he was married now, even if the marriage was a little more than a week old. Marguerite could not be angry with him forever. Not when he seemed to be in so much pain. She held out her arm.
"I will help you. Lean on me." Aramis was surprised, but grateful for the help. He could not have covered the whole distance by himself. Once he was under the shade of the canopy, so close to his son, his spirits lifted a little.
"Your Majesty," he greeted her.
"Monsieur Aramis. You have given us quite a fright, has he not, Marguerite? How are you feeling today?"
"I'm afraid it still hurts but you honour me by having me here." He managed to smile, leaning more and more on Marguerite. He needed to sit down. "Although...one of the guards went to seek some food for me and I would not want him to desert his position for too long in order to find me."
"Of course, not. Marguerite, will you go and bring some food for Monsieur Aramis?" Aramis could not help but grin when he saw the face she made when she was given the order. Marguerite was being treated like a servant today and she did not enjoy it. After she left, Aramis forgot the rigid protocol a little.
"May I?" he asked, looking at the empty chair. The Queen took in his pained look.
"Absolutely! Would you like some water?" She stood up to pour him a glass when he nodded weakly. He drank quickly. "You look dreadful."
"I've had better days," he laughed. "How is he?" he asked, looking at the Dauphin still playing on the rug.
"He's been hurting as well. I am quite at a loss. The nurses give him ice to suck on whenever it is possible but I am afraid he will choke on it or it will make him sick again."
"Does he have something to chew on?"
"The nurses' fingers whenever they hold him. Or mine, but don't tell the King. He would be horrified. No, my dear, no!" the Queen exclaimed, bending down to stop her son from chewing the fur off the rug. Aramis smiled. Being in the countryside would be good for the Queen's spirits. There were jusr two nurses and Marguerite to care for the child, which was nothing compared to her entourage in Paris. She had a better chance to be a mother here. The scene in front of him was proof enough.
"I bet he chews on his blanket whenever he's in his crib."
"How come you know so much about babies?"
"When I was ten, my parents had another child and I was old enough to take care of her," Aramis confessed. There were few people who knew this story. "I rather enjoyed it actually, much to my father's despair. Unfortunately, both my mother and her passed away a year or so later. A bad fever. So when he'll be more than a year old, I will not be able to help a lot."
"I'm so sorry, Aramis. It must have been so tragic." She genuinely looked affected by the revelation.
"Anyway. He should be allowed to chew on whatever he wants, heir to the throne or not. He's a baby first. See?" Baby Louis had grabbed one of his mother's fingers and was currently dribbling on it. The Queen did not take it away, coming as close to Aramis as she could without it being suspicious. His son smiled at him, babbling. He had to resist the urge to touch him.
"Guards? I wish to go in my apartments to lie down. It is definitely too hot outside. Will you go find a nurse to bring the Dauphin inside? Aramis will watch him until one of them arrives."
"Your Majesty." He would have liked to say more, but she knew he was thanking her. Aramis secured the baby on his lap and watched the two guards escort the Queen on the lawn. She was a remarkable woman. "Now, what is new in your life, Louis?"
The child looked at him curiously. Did he recognize him? He did not seem frightened as he put his tiny hand forward to catch one of the necklaces hanging around his father's neck.
"Not much, am I right? If you must know, I got married last week. Yes, I did! Crazy, isn't it? I hope you can meet her one day. I think you would like her; she's quite as stubborn as your mother and if I dare say, as pretty. When she yells, though, she becomes rather scary." He made a funny face which made his son laugh. The pain in his ankle was forgotten for now. He was almost thankful for it; it had given him the opportunity to see his child again, to hold him in his arms.
Author's note: When Louis XIII was King of France, Versailles looked nothing like what we know today. It was just a modest hunting lodge that he started expanding in 1631. His son Louis XIV made the Palace the masterpiece that it is nowadays.