Richelieu's Revenge

Chapter Fifteen

Aramis had no time to spare to check on d'Artagnan. They were pinned down and under fire. Repeatedly he shot in the direction of their assailants before reloading and firing again. Without a clear target it was a hopeless task, only buying them seconds before the next salvo. Throughout it all d'Artagnan hadn't moved or made a sound. All Aramis could do was keep shooting and hope for rescue. The strain of the situation began to wear on him: his inability to ascertain if d'Artagnan lived driving him to distraction. Yet he persevered. He was all that stood between them and their attackers.

One minute he and d'Artagnan were alone. The next, the area was flooded with Musketeers.

"Fan out," Athos yelled. "Check every house."

Belatedly realising that they were safe, Aramis laid down his pistol and pulled off his glove. Fingers pressed to d'Artagnan's neck confirmed, to his relief, that there was a pulse. Athos knelt beside him.

"How bad?"

"I don't know but we need a doctor."

Athos gave the order before helping to carry d'Artagnan into the Bonacieux house. Constance was immediately there, her face pale.

"I'll fetch some water."

They eased d'Artagnan out of his doublet and inspected the wound. It was several inches above the heart but that didn't mean there wasn't serious internal damage.

"There's no exit wound," Aramis said. "The ball's still in there."

They washed the blood away to expose the ragged hole. "I don't have any of my supplies here," Aramis said, frustration evident in his voice. "We'll have to wait for the doctor."

A weak groan heralded d'Artagnan's return to consciousness. He looked blearily at the two men. "What happened?"

"You were shot. Lie still. The doctor will be here soon," Aramis said.

D'Artagnan accepted the advice, his normal healthy colour reduced to a pale mask. Shortly after the doctor arrived. It was the same man who had tended to Porthos after he was stabbed.

"You boys are keeping me busy," he said as he unpacked his bag. "Tell me what happened."

Aramis explained the situation and the doctor inspected the wound.

"We'll have to remove the ball. This is going to hurt. You might want to hold him down."

With a look of apology Aramis pressed down upon d'Artagnan's shoulders. Athos did the same with his legs. As the doctor began to probe the wound d'Artagnan began to buck against the hands holding him prisoner.

"It'll soon be over," Athos soothed. "Try to relax."

Contrary to Athos' words it wasn't done quickly. The ball, the doctor informed them, was lodged against a bone and it was tricky to get hold of it. D'Artagnan had fainted by the time it was successfully removed.

The doctor looked him over. "Probably for the best although he lasted longer than I expected." He turned to Constance who was standing in a corner of the room close to tears. "Madame, may I have a bowl filled with an inch of hot water?"

"Of course."

The doctor brought out some pouches of herbs. "I'm going to pack the wound rather than stitching it. We need to draw out any contaminants."

"Will he be alright?" Athos asked anxiously.

"There's always the risk of a fever, as you know. If he manages to avoid that he should make a full recovery. He's going to be sore for quite a while though. I'll leave you something for the pain."

D'Artagnan had woken up by the time the doctor had finished mixing the herbs and applying them to the wound. His gritted teeth were tangible evidence of his pain, but he didn't utter one word of complaint. Once he had been dosed with the pain medication he drifted off into an uneasy doze.

Leaving him in Constance's care Athos and Aramis went outside. Dawn had broken, and the sun was just peeking over the horizon. Aramis sat wearily on the wall of the well. They hadn't been there long before Porthos appeared looking pleased.

"We found them. Scurryin' away like rats they were. Had to shoot them, though, to stop them getting' away."

"That was unfortunate," Athos said. "It would have been useful to ask them some questions."

Porthos shrugged unapologetically. "Bit late for that. How's d'Artagnan?"

"Resting. The outlook is good," Aramis replied. "I suggest we leave him here for now. I'm sure Constance won't mind looking after him. We can take it in turns to help her. Once he's stronger we can move him back to the garrison."

"Agreed. Well, I should go and report to Treville," Athos said.

"Wait. How did you know we needed help?" Aramis asked.

Athos smiled, a rare event which lit up his features. "Constance climbed through a window at the back of the house and came to the garrison. That girl has the heart of a Musketeer."

"She's wasted on that miserable bastard she's married to," Porthos said.

"I don't disagree. Unfortunately, they are married and there's nothing anyone can do about it." Athos put on his hat. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

TMTMTM

Athos finished his report and waited for his commanding officer to speak.

"You still think this is the Cardinal's doing?" Treville asked.

"There's no proof but it can't be a coincidence that each of us has been targeted."

"I think it's time I had a word with him."

"Do you think that will make any difference?"

Treville sighed. "There's no guarantee of that. It's a pity last night's assailants were killed."

"I don't think Porthos would agree with you. They'd attacked Aramis and d'Artagnan and that was enough to seal their fate."

"Maybe if someone can identify them we will find a link leading back to the Cardinal." Treville stood up. "I'm going to the palace. I'll check in on d'Artagnan later."

Athos walked down to the stable with him and saw him off. He knew that Treville would do everything in his power to protect them, but they were up against a powerful and cunning adversary. He was very thoughtful as he wended his way back to the Bonacieux house.

Tbc