Richelieu's Revenge
Chapter Three
By mid-afternoon Athos was not in a good state. His hands shook so much that he could hardly wield a pen. He had come close to overturning the inkwell at least twice. A headache was building up behind his eyes and, if there had been any food in his stomach, he would have vomited.
Treville had plied him with water and tried, unsuccessfully, to persuade him to eat a light lunch. The Captain had been kind and considerate and the whole situation had set Athos' nerves on edge. He felt as if the walls were closing in on him and all he wanted was to stumble to the nearest tavern and drink his fill.
"I think that's enough for today," Treville said. "You look like you need to lie down."
Athos gratefully put the pen down and started to rise.
"Do you have any wine in your room?" Treville asked.
Athos considered lying, but only briefly. "Yes."
"Then I will come and collect it."
With extreme reluctance Athos handed over the two bottles. Once Treville had gone he pulled off his boots, unbuttoned and removed his doublet. His bed did look very inviting. He lay on his side and closed his eyes, hoping to fall asleep. After tossing and turning for ten minutes he settled on his back and stared at the ceiling.
His thoughts were consumed with the need to have a drink. He could almost taste the wine on his tongue. His stomach cramped painfully. We wiped his brow which was beaded with sweat even though the room was cool.
Time crawled by and the urge to go out and find some wine grew stronger. On numerous occasions he had to exercise his will power, but he could feel it fading. The headache grew in intensity and his shirt became soaked through with cold perspiration. He began to shiver.
He got up and put on his doublet. It didn't help, His boots were next. He was losing the fight and he knew it. He checked his coin purse. He had enough money to make a significant dent in his thirst. He collected his cloak, pushing down his feelings of guilt. He was all ready to leave when there was a knock on his door.
One of the latest crop of cadets was standing outside looking nervous. "Captain Treville sent me to ask if you're alright, Sir."
It embarrassed him that the cadets accorded him the same level of respect they showed to Treville. It never occurred to him that he deserved it based upon his prowess with a sword. "I'm fine," Athos snapped before slamming the door in the startled young man's face.
The interruption had served its purpose and he flung his cloak haphazardly across a chair. He crossed to the window. The sun had started its descent, but it would be many hours before darkness fell. He wondered when his friends would return. They were standing guard over a delegation from England which, no doubt, was seeking money. They had little chance of success while Richelieu held the purse strings. The meeting could drag on into the evening, leaving him alone for hours to wrestle with his demons. He briefly considered going down to the yard but was shaking too badly. He also felt unaccountably anxious about appearing in public. He imagined the comments that would be made behind his back. His reputation, such as it was, would be ruined.
His stomach, already unsettled, chose that moment to rebel. He fell to his knees and grabbed the empty chamber pot. The heaves were unpleasant but nothing compared to the bitter taste of bile that rushed up his throat. His whole body was shaking as he spat once, and then again, to try to remove the taste from his mouth.
He hadn't heard the door opening but someone must have come in because a hand was now rubbing circles on his upper back.
"Just take it slowly," Aramis said. "D'Artagnan, could you fetch some water? He needs to drink."
"Of course," d'Artagnan said.
Athos sat back, his nose assaulted by the sour smell of vomit. "You're back." His voice, unsteady though it was, betrayed his relief.
"We are." Aramis took his arm and helped him to stand. He was steered towards the bed and sat down with a groan.
"Sit back."
Aramis had plumped up the pillow and propped it against the wall.
Athos maneuvered himself into position. "I don't think I can do this," he said weakly.
"Course you can," Porthos said. "The Captain has put us on rotation so there'll always be one of us here to help you."
A sense of relief coursed through Athos.
"How do you feel?" Aramis asked.
"My head hurts, my stomach feels like it's been turned inside out and I can't stop shaking."
"All common symptoms of withdrawal. Any pain, other than in your head," Aramis asked.
"No." He knew that would change as his ordeal progressed. He wasn't afraid of pain but hated appearing weak, even in front of his closest friends.
The next couple of hours were bearable as his friends worked to take him mind off the need for wine. He even managed to eat some cold chicken without being sick. Gradually the sun set and Aramis lit the candles.
"You look like you could do with sleeping," Aramis said.
Athos didn't disagree although the aching that was starting in his joints made it very difficult to get comfortable. He felt as if he had the ague.
"Do you need anything?" Aramis asked.
Athos shook his head. "I'll be alright."
Unsurprisingly, none of the other three looked convinced.
"I'll stay here tonight," d'Artagnan said. "Just in case Athos needs anything."
"You don't need to do that," Athos protested.
"It's no trouble."
After Aramis and Porthos had gone Athos lay down on his side. Every part of his body ached. He closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep.
D'Artagnan got as comfortable as he could in a chair. Athos had his back turned to him so he couldn't see his face. He could, however, see the shivers that were wracking Athos' body. He silently cursed Richelieu. Athos' drinking had been a concern for some time and it was no bad thing to break the cycle. Having said all that, a more gradual withdrawal would have produced less severe symptoms.
Time passed slowly and d'Artagnan began to yawn. Athos was lying quietly although he couldn't tell if the older man was asleep. Soon his eyelids began to slide shut. He jerked awake a couple of times before sleep overcame him. The candles had burnt low by the time he groggily opened his eyes. He looked at the silent bed and immediately straightened up. A frantic look around the room confirmed his fears. Athos was missing.
Tbc