Though sluggish and leaning much of his weight on Athos, D'artagnan managed to keep his feet beneath him and made great effort to walk. As they entered the small room, Treville pulled the sheets off of the narrow bed and helped Aramis and Athos gently lower D'artagnan onto the bare mattress.
Aramis began ordering the others in the room and by then a crowd of Musketeer that were not currently on missions began to form at the door in case their assistance was needed. Athos set to work building a fire in the small hearth on the far side of the room while Porthos went to retrieve clean water and bandages. Aramis started by removing the jacket, shirt, and bandages encircling the young man's torso.
As soon as the last bandage was removed from his side D'artagnan gasped loudly. Just as Aramis had feared, the wound had reopened and in no small way. All of his earlier needlework was torn awayand the wound was bleeding freely.
"Oh dear my friend," whispered Aramis, more to himself than to his charge.
Suddenly Porthos shoved his way in with a bucket, clean bandages, and clean rags, "Mon Dieu!" He shouted. "He's been runnin' around soldierin' with that? It's a wonder that he didn't keel over sooner."
Aramis quickly grabbed the rags and water and set to work wiping away any excess blood and gore from around the gash, "Let's get him cleaned up before the lady returns, shall we? Porthos can you keep steady pressure on this area here? We need to slow the bleeding as much as possible." The larger Musketeer nodded and grabbed a clean rag from the pile and pressed it over the deeper area of the wound.
D'artagnan cried out as soon as the cloth touched his tender skin and Aramis moved to check on his shoulder. He was dismayed to find the skin surrounding the injury was red and slightly warmer than the rest of the body, but at least his stitching was still intact. He could deal with the infection after he keeps his companion from bleeding to death.
Athos had finished building the fire up and had moved to D'artagnan's head and was dobbing his face with a cool cloth. His other hand rested on the man's uninjured shoulder preventing him from pulling away from the pain of Porthos hand pressed against his side.
His eyes fluttered open as he fought to stay awake. His chest heaved as pain caused his breaths to come up short.
"Hold on lad, we'll have you fixed up in no time." Porthos said, his voice unnaturally gentle. The men in the room understood the situation was dire and each of them knew the chance, but all were not willing to give up on the youngest member within their ranks.
Just then shouting could be heard outside the room and someone could be heard trying to push their way through the crowd of Musketeers. The Captain recognized the voice of Lemay the court physician, "Let them through!" He bellowed.
The men at the doorway stepped to the side to allow the reedy out-of-breath man through followed closely by a wide eyed Constance. Lemay's steps faltered as he caught sight of the lean figure fighting for his life on the bed in front of him.
Constance gasped and nearly fainted. She had never seen such a wound before and now feared that his might very well be the last moments she had with her lover. She began to cry and Treville walked over to her and wrapped his arm over her shoulders and began speaking reassuring words to her as she cried.
Lemay rolled up his sleeves and looked to Porthos, "Alright," he announced, "Let me see what we are dealing with?" The blood soaked rag was gently pulled away to reveal the worst area of the wound.
"How long has he been bleeding?" Lemay asked Aramis.
"We're not quite sure, but steadily for about an hour now." He replied.
The doctor thought for a moment and then walked over to the fire, "I'll need two daggers, quickly, time is of the essence."
Athos's eyes widened with the sudden realization, "You don't intend to use cartery?!"
Lemay accepted the daggers from a Musketeer at the door, "Unfortunately, we do not have the luxury of time to debate this. He could die from blood loss at any moment. Barbaric as it may be, it just might save his life."
Athos stepped forward to challenge the doctor's judgment, but froze as he felt a hand on his arm. He turned to see D'artagnan's eyes opened and focused, "its okay Athos." He said quietly.