Chapter XXXVII
The weather was rather mild for the first days of June, yet Christophe was already breathing heavily and sweating under the attacks of his opponent. Even if his fighting skills had improved since his uncle allowed him to pick up a sword, they were not good enough against a soldier who had years of practice behind him. He had to step back to avoid a blow, ducking so that the sword only skimmed his hair. He realized that he had his back to a wall, and that there was no escape route this way. Glancing around, the boy slid to the right, walking round the older man.
"No!" Aramis exclaimed, stopping immediately. "You do not try to escape like this without at least attempting to attack. If you don't distract your assailant, he may very well do this." The Musketeer demonstrated his words, the tip of his sword poking Christophe's side.
"That's because you have two swords", he complained, using his sleeve to wipe his brow. "It's hardly fair."
"Fighting is never fair. Perhaps one day, when you actually win a fight with one sword, I'll teach you how to use two." Christophe glared at him, not satisfied with the answer. There was a carafe of water on a table close-by and he emptied it, half-drinking it, half-pouring it on his head. His muscles ached. "Come on, let's resume."
"We've been practising for at least one hour! Can't we rest for a while?" Aramis rolled his eyes at the whine, one hand on his hip. His own shirt was sticking to his chest and his arms.
"Do you really think your opponent will let you sit down and breathe?"
"At this rate, I'll never face an actual potentially dangerous opponent. You'll have driven me to death by exhaustion before."
"Suit yourself, then. Paul, do you want to show me your moves while your baby friend takes a nap?" The Musketeer asked the stable boy who had been eyeing the practise from the other side of the courtyard. Christophe barely registered the insult; he was becoming used to this sort of provocation which always happened when they were fencing against one another. Aramis was also training him to control his anger.
"Can I?" The stable boy sounded surprised by the suggestion.
"Of course! You might even prove to be a better fighter than my sorry excuse of a brother-in-law."
Paul dropped his shovel to the ground, attempted to clean his hands on his breeches then grabbed the sword Christophe handed him. He was a couple of years younger, but he had been working at the Garrison for quite some time. The Musketeers always spent their free time fencing so he had witnessed many practise lessons. There were some moves and attacks he remembered watching. Performing them was another matter entirely, though.
Aramis was not going easy on him, either. He attacked so fast that the other managed only to parry one blow before he tripped over his own foot and ended up sitting on a small stack of hay.
"Well, it has to be the fastest duel of my life," Aramis laughed, sheathing one of his swords to help the poor lad up. He was about to add another jest when bells started to ring far away, the sound coming closer and closer as more churches were joining in. When those in Notre-Dame rang, it became a joyous cacophony.
"Ah, I believe someone's born."
From the opened gates, they saw people stop in the streets and listen as they were doing, certainly happy at the news but also wishing the bells would cease ringing. Aramis hoped the Queen was fine.
"I'm afraid we'll have to postpone this fight, Paul." The boy did not complain, rubbing his painful backside. Christophe was laughing hard at his friend.
The Musketeer ran up the stairs only to come face to face with Captain Tréville as he entered the corridor.
"I suppose I'll go prepare."
"You suppose well. Orders will soon arrive, but there's no need to wait for them. I'm giving you a few minutes to say good bye to Elise and then I want you back here to go meet the King."
"Aren't you generous, Captain!" Aramis joked, bowing his head but smirking so much that his superior shot him a dark look. "You know you like me, Captain. Admit it."
For the past three months or so since the soldier had come back from Saint-Germain to stay in Paris, he was able to spend a lot of time with the Captain without the three other Musketeers around. When he was not on duty at the Louvres with his Majesty, Aramis was either on short missions or at the Garrison. He helped with Christophe, volunteering to teach him how to fight, an activity that they had been doing every day, either in the morning or at night.
There was hardly an evening when the Captain would not come eat with his niece or that she would come eat with him. It surprised Tréville to realize that the four of them were really becoming quite a tight family.
Aramis and him in the same family; he had to shake his head at this thought. One year ago, he would have never bet on it whereas now...He saw how the man behaved with his wife, how caring and affectionate he could be. The womaniser may indeed have evaporated. Without his friends and with an expecting woman at home, he seemed to have metamorphosed. Some might say the Captain was growing softer, that he would have never allowed such a joke before. He was aware of the change even if it was not such a bad change.
"Get out of my sight before I change my mind."
Aramis laughed, turning around and running once again down the stairs. Elise was waiting for him in front of their house. His heart always skipped a beat whenever he saw her, with her swollen stomach and her dress barely fitting her anymore. She often looked tired these days so he was not looking forward to leaving her side, especially as he did not know when he would return. Her brother would stay with her.
"We're leaving in a matter of minutes," he explained after he had kissed her. Aramis put his hand on her belly, rejoicing in feeling the baby move under his fingers. It always warmed his heart to realize that he was growing inside of her and that very soon, he would finally be reunited with his parents.
"I assumed so. When do you think that you'll be back?"
"I have absolutely no idea, but the King will probably not want to stay in Saint-Germain very long."
"Let's hope you are correct. Travel safe and...good luck," she added, hugging him close. There was no need to ask for what; he knew. Even though it was his duty to escort to King, the Musketeer dreaded going, seeing the Queen, seeing the Dauphin. It would be the first time he'd see him since he had made his heartbreaking decision and he had yet to explain it the Queen. Being away from them had made the transition easier especially as there was Elise to take care of, and her brother too, in a way.
Porthos and d'Artagnan had come back twice during this period. His friend did not seem to resent him anymore for what had happened at the Count's mansion, which was a relief. However, they had gone out for drinks and they had told him how the Dauphin escaped Marguerite one day. He was toddling in the long corridors, learning to run quite fast for a baby. According to them, it was hilarious to watch her look frantically in every nook in search of her protégé. Aramis' heart had bled at the story. On the one hand, he wished he could have witnessed it, but on the other hand, he forced himself to understand he had no right whatsoever to wish for such a thing.
"I love you," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. Elise kissed him lightly.
"I love you, too. Now go."
The King was in a joyous mood on their way to Saint-Germain. Aramis focused on watching their surroundings and anticipating any attack or problem that they could encounter. It barely prevented him from thinking of what he would do when they would have reached their destination.
The Palace was ready for his Majesty, and he strode to the Queen's bedchamber at once, Captain Tréville and his soldier escorting him until the door. There was wailing heard inside, as well as Queen Anne's soft but tired voice. The King sounded ecstatic when she announced that it was a second son. Aramis had to shudder a little at the news. Secretly, he had been hoping it would be a princess, a baby girl. Girls could not be heirs to the throne. This son was the King's child and if people discovered that the Dauphin was not, it could turn into a terrible catastrophe. It comforted him in his decision. It was a matter of life or death for the Queen's first-born now as well.
The two Musketeers took their leave since his Majesty did not seem in a hurry to leave his wife's side and that there were others guards already on duty. They went looking for Athos and the others, whom they found in the soldiers' quarters, playing a game of cards loudly.
"Have you not anything better to do?" the Captain rebuked them.
"There is nothing to do here, Captain," d'Artagnan answered, whining.
"Athos..."
"For once, I have to agree. The Queen has not left her apartments in days and the Dauphin only goes outside once or twice a day. It leaves us the rest of the day to...well..."
"Be bored," Porthos finished. He threw his cards on the table, yawning.
"I'm sure I can find you more interesting assignments while I am here. For a start, you could go inspect the edges of the park to make sure that everything is in order. Athos, take Lucas and go. As for you...," the Captain added once the two soldiers had left the room. "Since you seemed to enjoy guarding the Dauphin so much last year, why don't you relieve the guards by the Queen's bedchamber?"
Porthos and d'Artagnan groaned simultaneously, not at all pleased by the order which sounded like a punishment.
"What about him?" Porthos asked, pointing at Aramis, who was smirking at his friends' misfortune. "Why does he not go stand in front of a door, taking over from those who've been doing it these past months?"
"Aramis is not here to guard the Queen. He is the King's escort and the only door he will guard is his Majesty's, if need be. You were ordered to keep the Queen safe until she is recovered and ready for the journey back."
"Are you telling us we are not going back with you and the King?" d'Artagnan sounded shocked and extremely disappointed, especially when Tréville confirmed his assumption.
"Tell me, Captain. Do you happen to have another niece I could marry to benefit from such favours?" Tréville glared at him and Aramis burst out laughing.
"Actually, Captain, I'll go keep watch with them, if that's all right. Unless you want me to do something else?"
"I better not find you three doing anything else than standing still in silence if I should decide to check on you. Understood?"
The three Musketeers bowed their head, hurrying in the corridor. Aramis had missed his friends and he strode between them, clasping their shoulders. Despite wanting to go back to Elise's side, a part of him wished the King would decide to spend a couple of days here so he could enjoy their company.
The King stayed for two days before affairs of state called him back to the capital city. Aramis knew if he had a chance to talk to the Queen, it would be while they were in Saint-Germain. So he made the suggestion that he could stay behind instead of either d'Artagnan or Porthos. After all, it was only fair to them, too. Given that they both spent their time complaining, the Captain agreed to it, anticipating all the boring duties he would give one of them in Paris. They may then stop sulking like children. After a heated arm-wrestling match, Porthos won the right to travel back with Captain Tréville.
Staying behind was difficult for Aramis, though. The first time Marguerite asked him to escort her and the Dauphin in the gardens for their daily walk, he almost told her to go with Athos instead. The boy had grown so much in the last months and his walk was far better than the last time the soldier had seen him. His governess was only holding one of his hands now.
The heir smiled at him, but he smiled at everyone he saw in the Palace. There was no other sign of recognition on his face. The last time Aramis was with him in the nursery was almost five months ago. He was no more than a vague memory now. It hurt, but it was what he wanted, what he was forcing himself to want. The child was healthy, it was all that should matter. It was all that would matter to him now.
At night, when he was not keeping watch somewhere in the Palace, the Musketeer had trouble falling asleep. Handling this problem in Paris had been easy; it was overwhelming here. Athos noticed, yet he said nothing.
A week after giving birth to her second son, the Queen went outside for a walk with her ladies-in-waiting. The weather was becoming warmer and the sun was greatly enjoyable. If she was surprised to see Aramis escorting her with some of his comrades, she did not show it. Thinking of his family, he simply bowed as she passed by him, always averting his eyes whenever she would look in his direction. It may have been rude, he had to become used to new habits in order to distance himself. Once she inquired about his well-being as she often did with the others. He replied politely yet curtly, and this time, she could not hide her surprise at his tone.
The Queen made this walk daily, sometimes with her entourage, sometimes only with one of her ladies-in-waiting. Then, one afternoon, she decided that she wished to be alone for some time so there would be no one accompanying her, except for her escort. Aramis did not have to look at her to understand what she actually desired: he volunteered to go with her. So did Athos, after his friend quickly glanced at him. The older Musketeer glared back, but it was something that had to be done.