Richelieu's Revenge
Chapter Five
The King was giving a banquet for the English delegation prior to sending them home with their wishes unfulfilled. Aramis and d'Artagnan, both on duty, stood to attention behind the King's chair. They had left Porthos to look after their ailing brother and Aramis was having a hard time marshalling his thoughts. Athos' condition had deteriorated again, with vicious muscle cramps and sickness. He had borne it all with stoicism for as long as he could but, when they left, he had been reduced to a whimpering wreck incapable of rational speech.
Added to that was the proximity to the Queen. Her scent floated on the overheated air and teased Aramis' nostrils. Her pregnancy was showing now and she was in radiant good health. She sat next to the King, politely conversing with her other dinner companion, the Duke of Devonshire. His hand, Aramis noticed, kept wandering towards her knee.
Treville and the Cardinal were also present, sitting at opposite ends of the high table. In the body of the room dozens of courtiers dined on elaborate dishes while consuming vast quantities of wine. To Aramis it all felt facile and unnecessary. He would far rather have been by Athos' bedside, ministering to his friend and helping him fight his demons.
The meal was coming to an end when Richelieu leaned forward and spoke to the King. "Perhaps, Sire, Captain Treville can provide a progress report on his soldier."
Treville stiffened. "This is hardly the place to discuss that."
The King who had dined well was in an expansive mood. "Ah, Treville, I'm sure our English guests will excuse us." The King had little time for the English who he regarded as stiff and boring. "Is he ready to present himself before us?"
"It isn't a simple process, Majesty. He makes progress, but it would be premature to bring him to the palace."
Aramis had to bite his tongue. Richelieu was deliberately baiting Treville, forcing him into an invidious position.
"Maybe by tomorrow?" Richelieu asked.
"He is unlikely to be well enough," Treville said.
"How hard can it be to stay sober?" the King asked, ignoring the significant amount of wine he had imbibed that evening.
Treville glanced over his shoulder at Aramis who shook his head. "With respect, Sire, the symptoms are severe."
"Tomorrow afternoon," the King said. "I have been more than patient. There are standards you know, Treville. I can't have a member of my Musketeer regiment running around with a drink problem." He pushed back his chair, signaling the end of the conversation. Everyone rose and bowed as he led the Queen from the room.
Treville approached Aramis and d'Artagnan. "You heard the King. Will he be ready?"
"It's impossible to say," Aramis said.
"Richelieu is a bastard," d'Artagnan said fervently.
"There is no doubt about that." Treville frowned at them both. "Get back to the garrison. Do what you can to prepare him."
TMTMTM
It was almost midnight when Aramis and d'Artagnan got back to Athos' room. He was sitting up in bed, wrapped in blankets and beset by violent tremors.
"They started about an hour ago," Porthos reported. "He's exhausted but he can't get any sleep."
"He needs to rest. The King wants to see him tomorrow afternoon," d'Artagnan said.
"C…can't." Athos could barely speak, he was shivering so badly.
"I'll stay with him," Aramis said. "You two get his uniform and weapons ready. He has to look immaculate." He turned to Athos. "Do you have a clean shirt?"
"Yes."
"Good. D'Artagnan, brush down his leathers and cloak. His boots will need some attention too. Porthos, see to his sword and pistol."
D'Artagnan collected Athos' uniform while Porthos picked up his weapons belt.
"Are you sure you'll be alright on your own?" Porthos asked.
"We'll be fine. Get what rest you can. We need to be there to support Athos tomorrow."
Once they were alone Aramis turned his attention to Athos. "Are you cold?"
"No. Muscles won't stay still. R…really need a drink."
"You're doing too well to give up now."
"Not worth it. Not fit to be a Musketeer."
Aramis, who was tired and worried, lost his temper. "Don't you dare say that you aren't worthy of your commission. You earned it and I won't let Richelieu's machinations deprive you of it."
Athos looked completely taken aback by Aramis' vehemence. Seeing it, the marksman moderated his tone.
"You have come so far, Athos. Don't give up now."
A shaky nod was his only response.
Gradually, as the night moved towards dawn the tremors eased. Finally, Athos fell asleep. Aramis stood and stretched his aching muscles before wandering over to the window and watching the sky lighten. The worst was over.
TMTMTM
At midday Aramis, reluctantly, roused Athos. "It's time to get ready."
Although Athos still looked exhausted his eyes were clear and his hands were perfectly steady.
"Take it slow," Aramis advised as Athos sat up. "How do you feel?"
"Better than the last couple of days."
"There's warm water for you to wash and then you should eat something."
Athos was washing when d'Artagnan and Porthos arrived. His uniform and weapons were laid out for him and Aramis fetched a clean shirt from the bureau. Athos dressed slowly; shirt, trousers, doublet and boots. Aramis helped him to wind the light blue sash around his waist before Athos buckled on his sword belt. The final item of clothing was the cloak. His three friends viewed him critically.
"You look like hell warmed over," Porthos said with a grin.
"Thank you for the vote of confidence."
"It will be enough to satisfy the King and a real kick in the teeth for Richelieu," d'Artagnan said.
"That's the aim," Aramis said. "Why don't you two take Athos down for something to eat while I get ready?"
Athos still moved slowly. He felt as if he was recovering from a long illness. His muscles still ached but that was only the aftermath of his ordeal. His mind was clear; clearer than it has been for a very long time. It made him realise just how far he had fallen. They made their way down to the yard and d'Artagnan went off to collect some food. He came back carrying a bowl of stew and a couple of slices of bread.
Athos found, to his surprise, that he was hungry. The chicken stew tasted wonderful but he was careful not to put too much strain on his stomach. He had just pushed the bowl away when Treville and Aramis joined them.
"Aramis tells me you are feeling better," Treville said.
"Yes, sir. I'm still tired but that will pass. I will be fit for duty tomorrow."
"I'm proud of you," the Captain said sincerely.
Athos lowered his eyes, embarrassed by the praise. "It was my own fault I got into this mess."
"Nonetheless you have overcome it. Well, gentlemen, are we ready?"
They mounted their horses and set out for the palace.
Tbc