Chapter XLIV
…..I paid a visit to Constance on Monday. The weather is starting to grow milder in Paris so it was rather refreshing to breathe some fresh air. I think Mathieu appreciated his first trip in the streets. Would you believe that Monsieur Bonacieux did not even complain about Musketeers while I was at his house! It is doubtful it will last when you will all be back. Constance asked you to tell d'Artagnan that she sends "her love", and she blew a kiss. You do not have to deliver this affectionate touch, though. She would not want to find a rival in you! I wish you would have been here. Mathieu is growing up so fast. You will be amazed when you come back. He still is not sleeping very well, but he has taken your place in bed. Do not be jealous. I can only imagine how he must miss your singing. I know I do. Who would have thought my Musketeer could be such an excellent baby carer?
Christophe was here yesterday, with Paul. They are taking advantage of you being away to ransack the house. But you know how afraid of me he can be. I've threatened them with time alone with a wailing babe, which calmed them at once! Young boys can be such an hindrance sometimes. Will Mathieu become like them? I hope we can temper his spirits a little or I will spend many sleepless nights when he is older.
When will you be back? I miss you. I cannot wait to be in your arms again. The King has been enjoying your company for far too long already. Could you not tell him that it is my turn now? I love you. Elise.
Aramis finished reading the letter for the third time. The grin on his face spoke volume about how happy he was at the good news and the jokes in it. He could almost hear Elise's laughter as she wrote the words. His heart hurt a little when he realized his son was discovering the world without him. Hopefully, the King would soon tire of the countryside and decide to head back to the capital city. The soldier could not wait to be back home. He used to enjoy out of town missions because when they went peacefully, it was a good distraction. Now, it was merely a bother when they lasted for ages.
"Constance sends her love," he said, turning his head over to where d'Artagan was sitting, cleaning his boots. The young man was on his feet in a second. He would have snatched the piece of paper from his friend's hand if Aramis had not been quicker. He sat up on his campbed, the letter behind his back. "Easy there, lover boy."
"Did she say anything else?"
"She did suggest I give you a kiss but I am afraid you will have to wait to actually see her for this because my lips are not touching any part of you. Ever."
Athos stifled a laugh after d'Artagnan crunched up his face in disgust. Disappointed, yet still happy that there had been a message from Constance, he returned to his previous task.
The King was too busy today to consider going out in the woods so the soldiers were left idle for the afternoon. It was an appreciated change for most of them to be left alone for a few hours. Red Guards had been assigned to other rooms after tensions with the Musketeers had almost ended up in a gigantic fight in the gardens in the middle of the night. Nobody could have said what had started it, but alcohol surely had not helped matters. Captain Tréville had to be angry at them for good measure, but they all knew he did not mean it. They were not supposed to have wine in their quarters anymore, although Athos and Porthos always managed to smuggle some from the kitchen.
Aramis sighed, lying back down, the letter on his chest, his hands behind his head.
"Here. Take this," Athos demanded after a while. There had been too many sighs in the last minutes, and it was starting to annoy him. To distract his friend, he was holding out a glass of wine. Aramis took it gladly, his legs swinging to the side of the bed so he was sitting on the edge.
"Thank you."
"These letters make you moody, which is quite a sight, to be sure, but it is still deeply annoying."
"Then you finally know how we feel about you when you decide to spend nights on your own, drinking bottle after bottle." d'Artagnan did not see the dark look the older man shot him.
"Do you want your share or do you not?"
"Not in the middle of the afternoon! I still have some common sense."
"A shame. I am afraid we will be obligated to finish this fine bottle by ourselves, my friend."
"Such a shame." Aramis shook his head in unison with Athos, both openly mocking the other, who scowled at them. They were so focused on making fun of d'Artagnan that they barely realized Porthos had joined.
He slung his hat on his bed, then stood there in the middle of the room, looking like he was out of place. His hands rested on his hips.
"Finally! We thought you were going to spend the entire afternoon watching over the Dauphin, even as he slept!" Aramis exclaimed when he realized Porthos had returned.
"Wine?" Athos offered.
"I think I need it, yes."
"Did the King cornered you into having an interesting talk about his son's many riding talents again?"
"I have not seen the King today," Porthos replied, barely sparing a glance for d'Artagnan. His gaze was riveted on his glass that was being filled and drank three more times, effectively finishing the bottle.
"That's a pity," Aramis complained. What better way to forget he was far from his wife and son than by drinking his sorrows in wine?
"Come with me and we'll find some more."
Porthos did not say another word before striding in the gardens, his friend in tow. Aramis whistled, pushing his hat on his head, and straightening his uniform. When they rounded the corner of the building, his friend stopped abruptly and turned around so they were face to face.
"Did you really think I would not notice?"
"What?"
"When you came this morning. Did you think I would not see?"
"See what?"
"I am tired of you taking me for an idiot, Aramis!" Porthos growled. He grabbed the other by the collar of his jacket, pushing him against the wall of the building. Their faces were so close, all Aramis could see was the fury in his friend's eyes.
"I honestly have no idea what you are raging about. I haven't done anything this morning except receiving a letter from Elise and escorting the Queen to..."
His heart might actually have stopped beating for a couple of seconds as soon as he realized what Porthos was confronting him about. He was pushed once more against the wall, the other's knuckles turning white from clutching the leather jacket too tight.
"Escorting the Queen to see the Dauphin, exactly. All these weeks, I thought I was imagining things. I want to be imagining things. Tell me I am imagining things, the smile, the eyes. Tell me you're not that stupid."
Aramis' brain was scrambling to come back with a realistic and believable enough answer that could satisfy his friend's suspicion. He should have been aware that Porthos spending almost entire days with the heir could only lead to such a result. They knew each other too well. He had been so blinded by his unhappiness at missing his family and by his efforts to avoid the royal toddler that it had not crossed his mind that the other Musketeer was too smart to remain clueless.
"I can explain..."
"God damn you, Aramis!" Porthos' fist collided with the other's jaw, his head hitting the brick wall hard. His hat fell to the ground, his vision became blurry, and he felt blood drip on his lips. Too stunned to get his bearings, Aramis started to slide inelegantly to the ground. He would have ended up in the grass if his friend's grip on his uniform had not been so strong.
"I wanted to trust you back in the winter. I really did. How could you be so foolish?"
"It's complicated..."
"No, it isn't. She's the Queen! The Queen!"
"Don't you think I know it? Porthos, let me explain..."
"I don't want to listen to your nonsense! You disgust me, Aramis. You strut around the place, boasting about how you have changed, how you are so content to be married, and you...How can you do that to Elise? I will not let you ruin her life! She's ….."
His words were lost against Aramis' fist as he was hit straight in the nose. Reeling backwards, Porthos let go of his hold on the other who took advantage of the situation to deliver another blow to the side of the head. His senses had not all returned, there were bright spots of light in front of his eyes, whereas Porthos was faster in regaining his composure. He grabbed Aramis' hand, twisting it until there was a cry of pain.
Attempting to break free, he pushed one of his legs between Porthos' until they both tumbled to the ground. They started exchanging blows, not looking at what part they were hitting. They were so angry at each other that it did not matter. All that mattered was to hurt the other.
"You need to listen to me, Porthos!"
"To hear more lies? No, I think not!" There was a yelp as a foot pressed on the back of a knee, bending it. Aramis struggled to breathe, his hand pushing against the other's chin to stop him from speaking.
"It's only happened the one time, I swear."
"Liar! How can I trust you? Ouch!" Porthos hit him in the stomach in retaliation to Aramis' fingers slipping and poking him in the eye.
"If you don't, ask Athos! He's been following me like a shadow ever since it happened!"
"You told Athos and not me?" Porthos growled again, this time more hurt in knowing that the older Musketeer had known what was going on while he was left in the dark.
"I would not have, but he was there! He walked on us after that night."
"Why do you continue to wear that if you are so adamant that any connection has ceased?"
Somehow, blows had lessened at the mention of Athos' name. Porthos had the upper hand, though. The other was lying on the ground, effectively kept in place by the weight of his opponent sitting on his chest. He felt him tug on the Queen's crucifix.
"She gave it to me months before it happened. I tried to stop carrying it, but..."
"How do you expect me to believe you when I know you've been lying to us all this time?"
"I was protecting you, you idiot! What do you think will happen to you if they ever find out?"
"I can take care of myself. But you...They'll hang you for your stupidity. How could you be so stupid?" The question was asked again, even though Aramis knew no answer would satisfy his friend. "For once, for once, you could have tried to refrain from giving in to your impossible urges, don't you think?"
"I've heard all of this before, Porthos. Nothing you can say will change what has been done. Let me go."
"This isn't over!" Porthos grabbed Aramis' fists as the latter reached up to take hold of his head. They rolled once more, kicking, until they collided with a nearby fountain. The shock made Porthos gasp and catch his breath. Aramis broke free, scrambling to his feet, soon followed by the other.
"I suggest we continue this discussion when we are both calmer."
"Oh no, you don't!" Aramis had started to walk away, but his friend did not share this view of the situation. He grabbed him from behind, securing his arm beneath the other's throat. The Musketeer gargled, fighting to loosen the pressure. Pushing back with all his strength, he managed to make Porthos move backwards. Too much actually, as his legs soon hit the fountain. His reflexes were not enough to prevent them from falling backwards into the square pond.
There was a cracking noise as Porthos' head hit the bottom, curses escaping his mouth. Aramis struggled to stand up, his uniform soaked, water only up to his feet. He desired only one thing, to make his friend see his side of the story, to explain that he was not having an affair with the Queen, that he was not being unfaithful. It was a thought that sickened him now, when it would have sounded like routine for him a few years ago. What frightened him more at present was to lose Porthos' friendship. The latter was too enraged to listen properly.
"Are you hurt?" Aramis inquired when his friend groaned but did not rise.
"Why do you care?"
"When have I not? You are my friend."
"Am I? You have a strange way of showing it."
"You're the one who started fighting."
"I'm not the one who committed treason. Who is committing treason even now." Porthos spit the words, their sting worse than any blow Aramis had received.
"I am not the Queen's lover. I swear. I love Elise too much to do that to her."
Porthos slowly opened his eyes, his friend looming above him, a hand extended to help him up. Squinting, he chose to accept it. His head hurt terribly from the sudden move, and when he rubbed the back of his skull, his fingers came back slightly red. He groaned once more.
"He's the heir to the throne."
"I know."
"He's your son."
"For a time, I fancied he could be, even if only behind closed doors but no, he's not. He cannot be. It's become too dangerous." Aramis' face fell at his words. It was harder than he imagined to utter the painful truth out loud.
"But he is, though. He's not the King's."
"Correct."
"It has trouble spelt all over it, Aramis."
"I am aware. I've been letting them go, Porthos. I still am. It was easier with the Queen because I have Elise, but him...You cannot imagine how heartbreaking it is."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Didn't you listen?"
"I was too busy bashing your face." The corner of Porthos' mouth rose faintly. It could almost have been mistaken for a grin if he had not been overwhelmed by anger.
"We believed it was safer for you to stay in the dark. Don't you see what would happen to all of us if someone with less honourable intentions came to uncover the truth?"
"You should have told me anyway. Since when do we keep this sort of secrets from each other?"
"Have we ever had a secret topping this one?"
"Leave it to you to put yourself in such a perilous situation. Seriously, Aramis. I wish I had known earlier. Simply to punch some sense in your face."
"Trust me, Athos has done his fair share. So has Elise. Although hers were more slaps."
"You deserve more."
"Didn't you just make this clear enough?"
"I could have done worse. I still can. Swear one more time. Swear it's over."
"You've already given you my word. What more do you require?"
"You swore back in the winter, and you were lying then."
"Half-lying."
"Nevertheless. Swear it on something that matters."
"Porthos...Very well. On my son, I swear it on my son...On Mathieu," Aramis added quickly. "And can I trust you?"
His friend rolled his eyes, wincing at pain shot behind his eyes.
"I will not be responsible for your death, if this is what you are asking. You're still my brother, I suppose, despite keeping things from me."
"Are you mad at me?"
"Haven't I made this obvious?" Blood was drying on his hands, a mixture of both his and his friend's. The right side of his face hurt terribly. Aramis was hurting almost as much. His nose was still bleeding, he could feel his upper lip swelling, he could barely put his weight on his left leg, and when he shook his right hand, it made him wince.
"I'm more mad at you not trusting me enough to let me in, though. What you've done is done. But hiding the truth, that is not something easily forgiven, Aramis."
Porthos limped away, not giving the other Musketeer a chance to apologise. He had been doing it already, and he was not sure saying it again would be more effective. Aramis shared Portho's fury. He did not want to lose his friend, yet, he failed to see how he could make it up to him. It was terrible how one action done such a long time ago could still have this kind of repercussion.
"Let me at least look at your injury!"
Porthos did not stop walking, not even turning around. He merely shook his head to signify that he did not need any help. At least not from him.