Chapter XXV
For the next three days, Aramis could hardly stand up from his bed. His little excursion in the park had done more damage than he would have thought. It was driving him insane to stay indoors when he should have been in the forest, riding his horse. The Queen and Marguerite had come to pay him a visit once; it was the only distraction that happened. He was dying to be better.
Since he spent most of the day sleeping, he was hardly tired at night whereas all the others only wished to sleep after their day out. The King did not seem to be weary of hunting yet. The Musketeer always tried to make as little noise as he could when his companions were resting, but his muffled sighs were enough for Porthos to threaten to gag him if he did not stop.
The next morning, things developed and for Captain Tréville, it was the chance to get his injured Musketeer away from Versailles, its boredom and the bad atmosphere it was starting to generate. The ministers were running the country while their King was entertaining himself and one of them arrived at the house, bringing letters. There would be no hunting this morning, his Majesty being too busy learning what the current state of affairs was.
"Aramis, I have a mission for you," the Captain announced, joining the soldiers who were practising their fencing skills in the park. Aramis was lying in the grass, his hat on his face, trying to ignore the throbbing in his leg.
"Finally! What do I have to do?"
"The superintendent came here with two guards. François will stay here to take your place. You will ride back to Paris with the other to escort d'Effiat. And you will remain in Paris."
"Are you sending me back?" the Musketeer complained.
"You are of no use here. You could not even protect the Queen and the Dauphin if we were under attack. I want you to rest and heal. I expect you to be completely ready for duty when we will return."
"I'm sure I could..."
"It's an order, Aramis. Now, go pack your belongings and be ready to leave in an hour." Tréville left as quickly as he had arrived.
Fortunately, the superintendent had not come to the countryside on horseback. After a few failed attempts at mounting his horse, it was decided that the Musketeer would travel in the carriage, officially to better protect its occupant if they were attacked. D'Effiat had not liked it, but when the King gave an order it had to be followed without discussion. His Majesty was growing fond of this particular Musketeer and besides, it was terrifying to imagine that he could have been the one firing the shotgun and falling from his horse. Aramis had prevented him from this inelegant misadventure so even though the King said nothing, he was grateful.
Aramis spent most of the journey suffering in silence. He would be relieved when he would be back home. Tréville's decision may have upset him at first, it also meant he would be able to spend time with Elise and it somewhat made the pain a little more bearable.
They left the minister at his house, which meant that they also left the carriage there. Lucas, the other Musketeer, offered to help his companion walk back to his own lodgings. Aramis had not taken any medicine since morning and the pain was beginning to oppress him. After what seemed like forever spent hopping and stopping every few meters, they finally reached his front door.
"Surprise," he said, smiling weakly and leaning against the door frame when Elise opened the door.
"My God! What happened to you? Were you attacked?"
"Not at all. You have nothing to worry about. But I need to sit down." She opened the door wider so that Lucas could help him inside. They greeted Constance who was there as well. She quickly stood up from her chair to let Aramis collapse in it. "Thank you, Lucas."
"Don't mention it. Ladies." He tapped his hat then left. Aramis propped his injured leg on another chair. His breathing was heavy and he groaned in pain. Elise was hovering over him, looking for other wounds. She looked relieved to find none too frightening, but she was still concerned. His forehead was glistening with sweat.
"Tell me what happened."
"I fell from my horse because of a malfunctioning hunting gun. My ankle is sprained."
"I will find you cold bandages to lessen the pain." Constance disappeared in the kitchen and Elise kissed her husband's forehead as he lay his head against her waist. It was comforting to hold her close.
"You should not have walked."
"I'll take it over riding. Believe me."
"When did it happen?"
"What's today? Friday? Four days ago. Your uncle must have grown tired of me so he sent me back to rest."
"He did well. I'll take care of you." Aramis smiled against her dress. He had missed her, especially since his days had not been occupied by the hunt. Her smell was reassuring.
"It is always a pleasure to have you as my nurse."
Elise smiled before bending her head to kiss his lips. She had terribly missed him this past week and although she would have wished for better circumstances, she was ecstatic to have him in Paris again. She would have liked to continue kissing, but she was aware that Constance was nearby and that her brother could walk on them at any time. Aramis was not having it, though, and when she made to stop, he pushed stronger against her mouth. She giggled when he sat her down on his valid leg. It still hurt a little and he winced.
"Did I hurt you?" He shook his head.
"I've missed you," he said, kissing her neck.
"Jesus Christ, you could at least wait until I am gone!" Constance exclaimed, coming back with a stock of dripping bandages in her hands. Aramis laughed and Elise all but jumped to her feet, rather embarrassed to have been caught. She took one of the bandages and he sighed when she put it on his ankle. It felt better.
If Aramis had thought he would be able to move around the house as he pleased, he was greatly mistaken. Elise could be a rather scary nurse and when she gave him orders, he knew better than to challenge them twice. Later that day, he tried to walk upstairs by himself; he could do it, holding on to the walls and going slowly. She was having none of it, and Christophe had to help him up. None of the men was happy about it, but they feared the consequences.
"Are you going to help me undress as well?" Aramis asked the boy sarcastically when he sat him down on the bed.
"I hope not. My sister may be a dragon in disguise, I would rather jump out of the window than take off your clothes."
"You and me both, you and me both. Listen, if you want to go back to the Garrison now that I am here, you can." The boy looked at him, gauging the other's face to decide if he was being played or not. The Musketeer seemed serious.
"I'll think about it. Thank you," he eventually said on his way out.
"No, thank you. For staying here and looking after your sister." Christophe nodded. Their exchanges had always been short and practical. Aramis still resented him for what he had done, although the boy's attitude was slowly improving. The mere fact that he had just said "thank you" was proof enough. They both cared about Elise and it bound them together, whether they liked it or not. One of these days, Aramis would have to sit him down to have a proper conversation.
When he was alone, Aramis took off his shirt easily. Taking off his breeches was another matter. He shook his left leg only to end up sliding to the floor helplessly. He cursed.
"What am I hearing?" Elise chastised, joining him in their bedroom. She could hardly keep on a straight face when she saw him on the floor, exasperation in his eyes.
"Should you be making fun of your patient?"
"Absolutely not. You are right, what kind of woman takes advantages of her weakened husband?" There was such a big grin on her face, though. She held out her arm to help him up. No matter how much his ankle hurt, Aramis would always be stronger than her: he pulled her to him until she was sitting by his side.
"A very, very mean woman indeed." He kissed her between each word, his fingers toying with her sleeve. Elise could not deny that she would enjoy what he had in mind, she could not forget his current state.
"I don't think it would be very wise..."
"Of course it would. It's the best medicine I know!" She put her arms around his neck as he lay her down on the floor.
With nothing to do but enjoy his wife's company and care, Aramis started feeling better rather quickly. Christophe had taken his offer to go back to the Garrison even if he came back every day to show that he was not getting in any sort of trouble. He helped around the house, moving pieces of furniture they way his sister wanted it, fixing paintings on the walls. He even talked to Aramis a little. You could only spend so much time in the same house before it became awkward if you avoided one another constantly.
After three weeks of convalescence, the Musketeers could put his foot on the floor for a few minutes before it started to hurt. He made his way around the house, limping. He was confident he would be able to ride again soon.
There had been a summer storm the previous night and the air was still heavy with the scent of rain. Everybody enjoyed the slight drop in temperature. Elise wanted to have a vegetable patch in the small green space behind their house. One thing Aramis had learned quite fast was that whatever his wife wished for in the house, she had very valid arguments to obtain it. So he found Christophe turning over the wet dirt.
"I knew Elise was stubborn but someone should have told me how much she really was before I agreed to marry her." The younger boy looked up, smirking.
"That's nothing. You should have seen how she would con Father. Our mother was the only one who stood up to her. Probably because she was as stubborn."
"But that's the reason why we love her, is it not? She knows what she wants."
"Certainly. You will not have a boring life, if I dare say so." He resumed his work. They never talked much and he did not expect Aramis to continue the conversation.
"What about you, though? What kind of life do you want to have?" he asked. His brother-in-law stared at him. The older man was leaning in the doorway, watching him intently.
"I don't know. I don't think I have much of a say in the matter, anyway. My uncle does not seem ready to let me go."
"You have given him good reasons to act like this."
"I know, but I was so angry! I should have been there to protect my family that day. It should not have been you protecting Elise. It should have been me."
"A fifteen-year old against six bandits? Oh yes, I'm sure you would have won that fight."
"Then I would have perished fighting. It would be better than having to atone in that way. I look like a peasant," he spat. Aramis limped closer. He was so much taller and broader. He looked at him with the same fury he had in his eyes the first night he'd met Christophe.
"How can you say things like this? Your sister is still here and she needs you! She needs her brother!"
"Does she, really? You're here now."
"Of course, she does. She loves you! I admit I have a hard time understanding why, but you're her family and I will not let you wish you had left her on her own. She does not deserve it!"
"I am aware! Calm down, will you?" Aramis was seething, his fists balled on his sides. It would not do to start a fight. Besides, he was not sure he would be able to win it. "I did not mean it like that. I could never leave her. She often looks troubled and it is all my fault. I have taken our parents from her, don't you think I hate myself enough for it?"
"Do you? That would be quite a change, indeed."
"Well, it's the truth. I despise everything that I have been asked to do every since I was brought to Paris. I wish I had not done the things I did. I would not be knee deep in dirt if I had less gambled."
"You do not want me to tell you what punishment you would have received if I was the one in charge."
"I doubt it can be harsher than the beating d'Artagnan gave me." Aramis quite remembered that day when the boy was polishing the soldiers' boots. Even him had almost felt sorry for Elise's brother, obligated to do so in the courtyard where everyone could see him. There had been some comments from the boy about it being inferior to him, and being a job for slaves and orphans. Much to his misfortune, d'Artagnan was passing by at the same moment. He had not liked what he heard. Trying to get Christophe to apologize was an impossible task so he ended up punching him until the youngest surrendered.
"Trust me, if I had been the one punching you, you would have been out for a week."
"I would like to see you try," Christophe challenged. Aramis's fist crushed his nose a second later. He felt better when he heard the painful crack of broken bones. His brother-in-law doubled over, clutching his face, blood running through his fingers. He fought the urge to fight back. They had always known it would happen at some point.
"Are you feeling better?"
"Much," Aramis replied, shaking his sore hand.
"Good. Are we even now?"
"I believe so." The Musketeer shook the hand extended toward him after a moment of thinking. "Get back to digging." And he went back inside.
Elise looked at them suspiciously when she saw the state of her brother's face, but the men did not seem to be angry at each other. By now, she knew better than to ask that sort of questions to them since she would certainly get no answer. So she simply shook her head and resumed her cooking.