Chapter XL

"My mother sent me. It's Madame Elise. You must come with me, Maman said."

The words sobered Aramis at once. He stood up so fast, knocking over his glass. Wine spilled on the tabl, d'Artagnan cursing when it soaked his shirt sleeves.

"What's happening?" he asked the boy who simply shrugged.

"I don't know. Maman sent me to find you and Christophe to find Madame Constance. There were screams."

"Screams?" Aramis darted off after the young boy, the others scrambling to their feet to follow him. Porthos grabbed the hat his friend had forgotten in his haste.

The soldier knew he should have listened to his first instinct and not go out for drinks. His place should have been at home with his wife because he knew that despite everything she could say, she was not feeling at her best. His brisk walk turned into a run and he passed the boy, almost shoving a woman to the ground. D'Artagnan steadied her, apologizing quickly. The panic and fear Aramis felt seemed to have drained all the alcohol from his body. His heart was racing, imagining many incidents which could have happened while he was enjoying himself.

It did not take long for the four Musketeers to reach the house. They all crowded against the front door until Aramis managed to open it. They made quite an entrance into an already chaotic room. Constance was raiding the kitchen, shouting orders to some of Delphine's daughters. The little girls seemed to quite like it as they ran everywhere. Christophe was waiting in a corner, looking lost and out of place.

"What's happening?" Aramis asked his brother-in-law, frantically. "What's wrong? Where's Elise?"

"She's upstairs," Constance answered calmly when she heard his voice. Her head appeared in the kitchen doorway. "It's the baby."

"The baby? What's happened to the baby?" It felt as if his heart had stopped beating. He could not lose this child as well. He could not. He had to hold on to Athos to remain standing. The blood had drained from his face.

"Nothing's wrong, Aramis. Don't worry," she tried to reassure him when she saw how panicked he was. "Your wife is having a baby."

"Oh." The news made him feel better until he realized what it actually meant. "Oh." He still had to hold on his friend because this time, he really was dizzy. "Where is she?"

"I told you she's upstairs but don't..."

Constance stopped whatever she was doing to go stand at the bottom of the stairs. Aramis tried to push her to the side, but she could be quite strong when she was determined. She stood her ground.

"Constance..."

"There's nothing you can do up there. Delphine is with her, as is the midwife. Elise needs space so you better stay here with them."

"I need to see her so will you please move?" Aramis demanded, not listening to a word she was saying. "Or I'll have to move you myself."

The woman put her hands on both walls, blocking his way. She was about to reply when there was a scream above their heads. The Musketeer could not stand idle without seeing Elise, or at least let her know that he was home, that he was here for her.

"Excuse me, Constance." He grabbed her by the shoulders and effortlessly picked her up so he was free to take the stairs. Running up, he pushed open their bedchamber's door.

"Aramis...," a dishevelled Elise whispered, her face constricted in pain. A woman he did not know was holding her hands as they both stood up by the bed. His wife was sweating heavily, her breathing laboured. Most of her hair was plastered to her face. After one minute when she appeared to be in a lot of pain, she somewhat relaxed, sitting on the bed. He was on his knees in front of her in a second.

"I'm glad you are here," she said, smiling weakly. There was a cloth lying on the bed cover and Aramis used it to wipe her brow. Seeing her in so much pain was not a happy sight.

"Where else would I be? I'm always here for you."

"I know. I'm a little bit afraid," Elise confessed, lowering her eyes. Aramis rose to his feet, holding her in his arms before kissing her forehead gently. She was trembling. The slight pain had been there for days, yet, when it intensified in the afternoon, she would have never thought it would lead to this. In her mind, it was still too soon. It worried her, especially for the baby. She had heard so many stories about babies being delivered early and dying in a couple of days, if not hours. Her soldier would not be able to take it if it were to happen to them. She would not be able to take it.

"Everything will be fine, my love. Do you hear me? Everything. I wish I could take the pain away from you, though." Aramis kept on kissing her cheeks. Holding her face in his hands, he smiled widely. He was afraid as well, but he dared not show it. One of them had to support the other and for once, it would be his mission. Elise had been his best support lately, it was his turn.

"I love you so much, Elise. I know you will do great. You will be fantastic, agreed? Fantastic." She nodded, her hands clutching his uniform, her head resting on his chest.

The midwife and Delphine tried to make him leave the room after they were done talking. A man had nothing to do in a room where a woman was about to give birth, even if he was to be the father. Constance joined them, carrying boiling water. The two little girls were just behind her, each of them holding some linens. Aramis had no intention to leave at first. If he could comfort his wife by holding her in his arms, he would stay by her side.

Elise cried out once more in pain, the women rushing to her. The Musketeer did then feel out of place since he had no clue what he should do. It sickened him to not be able to lessen her pain. Besides, there were too many people in the room already. Elise needed to breathe. Very reluctantly, he made his way back downstairs.

In the attempt to take his mind off the occasional screams occurring upstairs, Porthos had suggested that they played a game of cards. He would have gladly asked for wine, too, but Athos shot him such a dark look that he kept the thought to himself. It would not do to have Aramis drunk for the first time he would meet his child. They all clearly remembered how hungover he was on his wedding day.

The four men crowded at the table with Christophe, the father-to-be caught between Athos and Porthos, unable to move. His head would turn to the stairs every time there was a noise coming from the bedchamber. His heart was not in the game, yet he tried to concentrate on the cards. They were doing this for him and he was thankful they were staying with him.

After half an hour, he could not sit still anymore. Instead, he started to pace around the room, worry written all over his face.

"Will you stop that?" Porthos complained after some time. "You are giving me a headache."

His friend sighed, but stopped, leaning against a wall. Instinctively he reached for his crucifix, wishing to hold it close, only to remember he did not wear. Despite the memories it brought, it would have been a great relief in such a moment. Prayers were running in his head, asking God to keep everyone safe and well.

There was a louder pained scream quickly followed by Constance coming down the stairs, not paying them any attention as she headed to the kitchen.

"What's happening?" he asked, following her.

"Nothing new. I just need some more supplies." Aramis did not believe her, and it was making him angry to be kept out.

"Constance, please...I'm going mad. Tell me."

Stopping what she was doing, the woman looked up. She had hardly ever seen the Musketeer at such a loss.

"I promise everything is going as it should, Aramis. It so happens that women tend to be quite hurt and cry out when they are delivering a baby."

"I know, but..."

"Let's go get some fresh hair," Athos decided, joining him in the kitchen. Nothing that Constance could say would make the other feel better. It was doing him no good to stay trapped inside.

The two Musketeers went outside, Aramis still looking behind him, not reassured. He did not like the idea of being farther away from his wife. However, their bedchamber window was open and soon, he could hear Constance's soft comforting words flowing down to them.

The air was cool in the street. Aramis did feel better, breathing in deeply. Athos was not saying anything, but he needed not to. His simple presence was enough.

"You should relax, Aramis. It will not help to be so nervous," Athos advised after the other's head had once again shot up anxiously at another muffled scream.

"I'd like to see you try, if you were in my place. What if something happens to her, Athos? It's been so long already. It should not take so long, should it?"

"I'm no physician. I have no idea. Still, if Constance tells you that it's normal then it certainly is."

"I know...I know... It's not easy to stand there doing nothing while she's in pain. Despite everything, I think I liked the last time better, when we were away on our mission and I had something else on my mind," he stated, his head thrown back against the wall. There was nothing his friend could answer to this that he had not already said in the past. Tonight was not the time to remind Aramis that the Dauphin was not his son. Besides, Athos knew this truth was starting to sink in for the other.

"What if something goes wrong and I lose them both? I can't...I won't be able to stand it. Not after Saint-Germain." Aramis shook his head sadly. He looked so far from the happy-going and carefree soldier everybody was used to seeing that the older one stepped closer. Putting both hands on Aramis' shoulders, he forced him to look him in the eyes.

"You are imagining things, my friend. For all we know, everything will go perfectly well. A lot of babies are delivered every day and most of them end up fine. As do the mothers. Elise is in very good hands. I thought you were the most ardent believer of us all. Where is your faith this evening?"

Aramis let out a small laugh at Athos' attempt to brighten his mood. He hoped God was listening to the endless prayers constantly running through his head. The older Musketeer had never truly forgiven Aramis for his night with the Queen and its aftermath. It had been madness, there still was so much at stake. Yet, he could somehow understand why he was so worried and anxious; he had seen all the trouble it had brought on his friend, how his heart had broken when he had announced his decision to her Majesty.

"You will not lose this one, Aramis. Do you hear me? It will be fine and in a couple of weeks, you will be so tired that you'll actually beg for some peace and quiet. Come one, let's go back inside and find you something to drink."

The other raised an eyebrow. After all, Porthos' same proposition had been vetoed.

"I'm not your father. I suppose that you can control yourself and not be drunk when you'll hold your child. I hope," Athos added in his beard, as they went back inside the house.

D'Artagnan prompted Porthos to continue his tale of this woman he had met last week while he was on some mission. It lightened the mood as it had at the tavern, and with the added effect of the sweet wine brought on the table, Aramis somewhat relaxed. What his friend had told him while they were outside was reassuring in some sense. Perhaps it was simply impatience and apprehension about what would come after the birth that made him rather anxious. Athos was correct: women had been giving birth the dawn of time after all.

Christophe seemed greatly interested in Porthos' recollection as he craned his neck to hear more details. He may not belong to the Musketeers and they may not consider him as a friend, yet he was accepted among them and no longer only tolerated. The older men decided to offer some advice on how he should behave to attract women, because he was seventeen so it was high time he became a man. Aramis was thankful Captain Tréville was not here to witness such a conversation. The young boy appreciated the attention so much he was about to ask some more questions when there was a louder scream upstairs.

Aramis stood up too fast, his chair falling loudly on the floor. There were other muffled sounds and he wondered if he should go upstairs. He did not want to be an hindrance but it sounded

different this time. It terrified him. His newly found glimmer of hope disappeared.

"Constance will certainly yell at you if you go upstairs," d'Artagnan advised, filling his friend's glass once again.

Bending down to retrieve his chair, the soldier almost sat back down until there were more noises from his bedchamber. A muffled scream and then another which should have been expected but still amazed him. Someone else cried out, someone new. Aramis was at the top of the stairs in a matter of seconds.