Chapter Three

When they had been taken into the barn and he had been firmly tied to the support post Athos had been concerned that this was not going to go well. He was even more worried now. They had all been interrogated before, and come out more or less unscathed. But it was still not something any of them wished to endure.

Aramis was already injured, it was clear he had a dislocated shoulder and was in a lot of pain. Their brief conversation had highlighted to Athos the discomfort his friend was in. His eyes were unfocused and despite his attempt to stand upright he was still slumped slightly. Their captors would probably play on that and use Aramis as the foil to get him to talk. Which, Athos knew, he could not. The real documents had to reach their destination. And it was unlikely that Porthos and d'Artagnan had arrived at Engel's chateau yet.

Athos knew he would have to endure any interrogation for at least a day. And Aramis would have to endure it as well.

The man in black walked across the barn, he reached Aramis in a few strides and pulled the injured man's head up by his hair. Aramis gasped at the sudden movement.

'Good, I thought you would not wake up.'

He let go of Aramis who let his head fall, before pulling himself straighter to glare at the man. The man in black smirked, drew his arm back and punched Aramis hard to the face. Aramis slumped again. Athos could not tell if he was unconscious or not.

The man in black turned to Athos, 'now, why don't you save your friend any further injuries and tell me now where the missive has been hidden. You were seen in Paris being given the documents so I know you had them. Neither of you has them now.'

The man had walked across to Athos and stood in front of him. Athos made eye contact, but did not reply.

'Wake him up,' said the man in black.

The other man, shorter and clearly a subordinate picked up a bucket of water and quickly walked across to Aramis. With little ceremony, he emptied the contents on Aramis, who cried in pain as the sudden soaking made him jump. Again, he managed to stand a little straighter. He looked about himself, confused for a few seconds before settling his gaze on Athos and the man in black.

'You,' the man said to Aramis, 'where is the letter?'

Aramis looked briefly at Athos who shook his head. Aramis returned his gaze to the man in black and just as Athos had done did not reply.

The spy punched Athos in the stomach, causing the swordsman to exhale the air in his lungs quickly leaving him panting slightly.

Once Athos had regained his composure he realised that the man had returned to stand in front of Aramis. He looked at Athos as he calmly reached up and grabbed Aramis by the injured shoulder. As the man squeezed, Aramis could not help but cry out in pain. The man did not stop squeezing until Aramis had passed out, slumping forward.

Athos hated watching his friend being tortured. But they were loyal to the King and France and they both knew they were instrumental in ensuring the negotiation documents reached their destination.

The man lifted Aramis limp head up, and when he was sure the musketeer was unconscious he simply let go and walked away. They sat opposite their captives and waited. Athos knew they were waiting for Aramis to regain consciousness. Athos also knew that they would then hurt the already injured man again. And again, until either Athos told them what they wanted to know to protect Aramis, or Aramis cracked from the pain and told them what they wanted to know.

It was another few minutes before Aramis stirred. He groaned and managed to pull himself up a little. He tilted his head enough to look at Athos. He managed a pained smile, but Athos could tell he was barely conscious and struggling to stay awake.

But it was enough for the spies who had both walked over to Aramis. The younger one stood in front of him whilst the man in black looked at Athos as if waiting for an answer to the question that did not need to be asked again. Athos did nothing, he looked at Aramis again who nodded slightly. The young spy grabbed Aramis injured arm. Aramis screamed in pain and passed out.

The two spies looked at Athos, who continued to remain silent.

The routine repeated, the spies waited for Aramis to wake up, and they hurt him enough for him to pass out. Sometimes they would punch him and sometimes they grabbed his injured shoulder. Athos lost count of the number of times they all played the same parts in the interrogation.

After what seemed like hours to Athos they seemed to have reached an impasse. Aramis was conscious, and had managed to make eye contact with Athos for a few moments. It reassured Athos that Aramis could focus on him, even if it was only for a few seconds. He still had his wits about him, although he must have been in tremendous pain.

The subordinate man said something to the man in black. He spoke Spanish, Athos could not make out all that was said but could pick out the words, 'time' and 'quickly'. The man in black had replied in Spanish with what appeared to be an agreement.

Athos glanced at Aramis who looked worried. Although it was obvious the Spanish speaking marksman had understood the exchange, he could not communicate it to Athos without their captors knowing.

MMMM

When they reached the point where the smaller road forked off to their right Porthos stopped his horse and looked at the ground intently. They had both noticed the hoof marks as they had been travelling. Two horses had galloped down the main road recently. Now they realised that a third had galloped along the side road at the same time. But the marks were joined by another horse walking back towards the main road.

'Something happened,' said Porthos.

D'Artagnan could tell he was worried. They both were. They had expected to meet Athos and Aramis by now. D'Artagnan turned his horse along the smaller road, he followed it for a few meters. When he came across Aramis' horse he called back to Porthos who had remained studying the ground, trying to work out what had happened.

'She's been shot, must have collapsed, there's no sign of Aramis.'

Porthos looked about as d'Artagnan remounted his horse. Porthos turned back along the road speaking as he did so.

'It looks like whoever did this retraced their steps back to the main road and then across into the woods on the other side…shall we follow?'

D'Artagnan gestured for Porthos to lead the way. They moved off quickly, they both knew they had to find Athos and Aramis quickly.

MMMM

'Sir, we don't have time for this, we need the information now, we have to move quickly,' said the younger man. He spoke in Spanish, presuming that neither he nor Athos would understand. Aramis was used to hiding his fluency in Spanish, so did not react.

It was harder not to react to the man in black's response, 'Juan, you are correct, this one,' he had looked at the marksman as he spoke, 'is more likely to talk, he's weaker, he's injured…we'll use the other one to help him a bit.'

Aramis had looked across at Athos, but could not tell him what had been said. He wondered what the men were going to do. The younger spy had moved across to the pile of sacks. He was moving them aside, piling them up.

The man in black returned to stand in front of Athos, blocking his view of the younger man's activity. Aramis wondered if he was being allowed to watch for a reason. The man in black was talking to Athos.

'I am sorry, musketeer, but we need to hurry you along a bit. I have decided that your friend is more likely to talk if you help to persuade him.'

Athos managed to remain defiantly glaring at the man. Aramis looked back over to the younger man who had finished moving the sacks and was picking some planks of wood off the floor. They were covering a shallow hole. With a sickening feeling Aramis realised what the men were going to do.

MMMM

When the man moved around behind him, Athos was able to see what the younger spy had been doing. A hole had been revealed, under the sacks. Despite attempting to hide his realisation he felt his breath quicken. Both the spies were by him now. The younger one was untying the ropes; his wrists were left bound. Once free of the beam, a rope was put around his waist pinning his arms to him. He was held firmly and walked to the shallow pit and pushed down onto his knees, then forced down onto his back. His legs were retied at the knees. He had struggled but the men continued to hold him.

Aramis was speaking to the two men, Athos realised he was talking in Spanish. His injured friend was clearly not thinking straight. The spies had read their situation correctly. Obviously in pain Aramis had been the easier man to persuade. Athos did not blame Aramis, the pain he was in was clouding his judgement.

Whatever Aramis was saying was clearly not what they wanted to hear. A gag was forced into his mouth and tied firmly. He was breathing hard as the man in black put a foot to his side and tipped him over into the hole. He managed to twist enough to land on his side. The damp earth against his cheek. All he could hear was Aramis shouting at the men. The marksman's voice becoming muffled at the wooden planks were replaced and what he guessed were the sacks thrown on top.

Soon he was left in darkness.

MMMM