141. Benjamin

"My name is Benjamin."

Athos looked up from his place on the forest floor. The tree he had chosen to rest again felt hard against his back. He had been there all night, unable to move. The stranger in front of him towered over him.

Athos inwardly groaned. He had fought off a couple of brigands but in the melee, had been thrown from his horse. He doubted the two thieves would return, injured as they were, but he had not counted on a local villager stumbling upon him before he managed to collect himself and find his horse.

Athos squinted up at him, the early morning sun in his eyes, putting his visitor in shadow, a dark threat that he was not capable of vanquishing.

Then, the stranger stepped forward, blocking the low sun and Athos was surprised to see a young man with a shock of dark unruly hair and piercing blue eyes. He was smiling. Athos relaxed a little, shifting himself upward from his sitting position on the damp ground as far as his damaged knee and ankle would allow. He had placed a short, round log under his knee during the night which had eased the drag, but at some point he would have to rise and he doubted the leg would support him.

By the look of him, perhaps the tall stranger was not the threat he at first thought. Weighing up his option, he tilted his head. "Athos," he murmured.

The young man, Benjamin, stepped forward ungainly. For a moment Athos thought he was about to tumble into him, but he merely swung the strap from across his body and pulled a water-skin into view from behind his back. Unfastening it, he unscrewed the top and held it out to the dishevelled man sitting at the base of the oak tree, amid bracken and nettles.

"It's alright, it's clean," he said, quickly, when Athos did not reach for the water.

"My apologies," Athos said, quickly. "I meant no …" he cut himself off, reaching for the water and drinking deeply, thirstily. "I seem to have forgotten my manners," he said when he had finished.

"That's alright. What happened?" Benjamin asked, when Athos had wiped his mouth.

"I believe my horse threw me," Athos replied, curtly.

"Don't you know?" this 'Benjamin' asked.

Athos gave him a withering look.

"Sorry," Benjamin shrugged. "It was a round-about way of asking if you were hurt."

"Yes it was, rather," Athos replied, tersely. He made to pass the water-skin back, but the boy waved his hand, indicating he should keep it for a little while.

"How long have you been here?" Benjamin then asked.

Athos pursed his lips. "I have no precise idea. All night, certainly."

"Who are you, Monsieur?" the lad asked, still maintaining his position, looking down on the man.

After a few moments careful thought on how much he should reveal, Athos decided to trust this young man, who looked like a mere villager out for a morning's hunt, as Athos had warily spotted a knife in his belt. Albeit old, and untouched during their introductions.

"I am a Musketeer," he therefore replied.

The boy's mouth dropped open. "One of the King's Musketeers?" he asked, in what Athos could only describe as 'awe.'

"Are there others?" he replied, with a very small smile.

Benjamin laughed. "No, I don't suppose there are."

Benjamin continued to stand over him, which was not a situation Athos was particularly enjoying. "Won't you sit?" he asked.

"Can you walk?" Benjamin asked, ignoring the question.

"I doubt it," Athos sighed. "My knee and ankle took the force of my landing." Athos's eyes roamed around him. Where was that damned horse?

"And you need to get back to …?"

"Paris, of course," Athos replied, before looking up at the lad. "To the Garrison."

Not for the first time, he wondered at the different world that existed outside the city. Pinon was only an hour's ride away from the city and yet he knew his tenants had been very much aware of the King's Court, even if it was impossible for most to imagine. He had passed on information to his cook when he had visited the Louvre with his father, in order to answer any questions his tenants may have had about the splendour that existed a few leagues away. He remembered he had been in awe himself after his first visit.

"And you can get help there?" the boy broke into his thoughts.

"There is an Infirmary, yes," he replied. And a mess, and stables, he almost added, but held his tongue, aware of his manners. And his short temper when he was inconvenienced. Thinking his answer would be the end to the questions, he continued to look around the forest. But it would seem not; the boy seemed fired up at the information.

"An Infirmary? What is it like?"

"It is a room, with cupboards full of balms and concoctions. It is not a place where I linger, if I have a choice," Athos replied, flatly.

"And who is in charge?" Benjamin pressed him.

"A fellow Musketeer," Athos muttered, a headache beginning to build behind his left eye.

"A soldier-doctor?" Benjamin enquired.

"He would like that," Athos smiled, despite his mood. "But no, he is not a doctor."

"But he is in charge?"

"Oh, very much so."

"How? If he is not a doctor?"

"He is passionate about medicine. He reads, he learns and he practises," Athos replied, the pain in his knee throbbing. His hands stung too and he peered at his palms and slowly began to flex his fingers, aware of the boy moving closer.

Suddenly a bunch of leaves were thrust toward him. "Rub these into the skin," the boy said.

When Athos looked up, the boy nodded. "They will take the sting out," he added, as he bent down and took hold of one of Athos's hands. "The nettles around here are almost lethal," he laughed.

Athos looked into the boy's eyes, before nodding his silent thanks and beginning to do as Benjamin suggested. It seemed to help. He knew of such plants of course, but doubted he would have found one himself or even bothered to, considering his circumstances. The boy stepped back, almost toppling before straightening himself.

"I think you are in luck, Musketeer Athos," he said, stepping back once more.

"How so?" Athos huffed, discarding the used leaves at his side. "I do not feel particularly fortunate."

"I believe I have your horse."

Athos's head snapped up.

"A black stallion? Very powerful. I found him caught up in some bracken yesterday at dusk, not too far away. It was getting dark, so I could not do much of a search for the rider before I lost the light. That's why I'm out so early, searching. Looks like I found him."

"I think you did. Is he alright?"

"He's fine. I think he was a bit angry though. He's in my barn. He's much happier now."

"You have my thanks, Benjamin," Athos replied, in relief.

"Well, I'm glad I found you. I wouldn't know what to do with the likes of him," Benjamin admitted, shyly. "So, what is it like?" he added.

"What is what like?" Athos frowned, confused by the swerve in topic.

"To have your own Infirmary."

Athos was quite lost for words. Why was this boy so fixated on the damned Infirmary?

Realising Athos was not particularly interested in discussing his Garrison's amenities, Benjamin stooped and pulled up the trouser leg of his right leg.

A stout wooden shaft was visible below the knee, in place of a healthy leg.

Athos opened his mouth to speak, but no words formed in his head. And then, a flurry of questions; How? Where? When? But he dare not voice them to the young man who was so interested in his welfare and was so bright in disposition.

"Monsieur Athos, are you alright?"

Athos huffed. He had been thrown from his horse, probably knocked out, had crawled to the safety of the tree he now sat against, with a damaged ankle and a swollen knee and yet, compared to this young man, he was the most fortunate of men.

"I always wanted to be a soldier," the boy was saying and Athos felt his eyes sting. "Sorry, I've shocked you, I'm used to it, but I forget sometimes that other people don't want to see such things."

"Please, don't apologise," Athos murmured, completely caught off guard, looking up at the young man's face; anywhere but at his leg. His thoughts were settling on another young man who had charged into the Garrison and challenged him to a duel. D'Artagnan was probably the same age as Benjamin. He took another swig of water, desperately trying to dispel the lump in his throat.

Benjamin continued to chatter, a fact Athos was now quite glad of;

"It's not an adequate replacement I know and it hurts like the devil if I walk too much on uneven ground. I usually keep to the farm but …"

"You came to look for me," Athos finished.

"I was nervous," the boy admitted, looking down. "I knew whoever owned that horse must be an important person."

"Not really."

"Oh, but you are! You know The King! Don't you?"

"Yes," Athos said, quietly, shifting his weight. His hands no longer stung.

Benjamin backed up and stood with his back to an adjacent tree, taking his weight off his own knee. "And you have an Infirmary," he said, almost reverently.

"What happened?" Athos ventured, his desire to know what had befallen the boy getting the better of him.

At first Benjamin did not reply. He shifted self-consciously before taking a deep breath;

"I broke it. Playing in the woods. I built a house in the branches. I was good, sturdy like, and I would climb up and watch the birds and the animals. I loved it."

Athos remained quiet, as Benjamin worked through the memory.

"Then, one morning, I was up there and there was a great crack and a branch gave way. I tried to hold on, maybe I shouldn't have, as when finally I let go and hit the ground, there was another crack. It was my leg."

"My God," Athos breathed.

"It was just Pa and me. He didn't look for me until it started getting dark. Wasn't his fault, I usually stayed out all day, once my chores were done," he added quickly.

"And by then?" Athos prompted.

"They sent for a man from the next village. He'd been a soldier too. Said it couldn't be fixed. We had no Infirmary, so he took it off there and then. There was a lot of screaming. I think that was me," he added quietly.

Athos swallowed, shocked at the light-hearted way the boy spoke, once he had started his tale.

"And how old were you?"

"Ten, I guess. Seventeen years old now by my reckoning. I'm used to it," he rushed on, before looking up. "Couldn't be a soldier though, could I?"

"No," Athos replied, gently.

"Not a very good one, any ways," the boy sniffed and Athos's heart almost broke.

"Where did this happen?" Athos ventured, as the boy gave him a small nod for his honesty.

Benjamin pointed upward to the branches of the tree Athos leant against. Athos looked up and sure enough, there were the remnants of an old, wood platform, high up in the branches. It had been an ambitious plan.

Athos had a sudden flashback to his own childhood and an abortive attempt by he and Thomas to build a tree house. They had not been as successful as Benjamin. His heart hammered at the ironic thought.

"Don't usually venture this way," Benjamin said then.

"And yet, you came in search of a stranger."

"Had to return the horse, didn't I?" Benjamin grinned.

"Roger," Athos said. "His name is Roger."

"Really? I thought it would be something like Major, or Captain," the boy laughed.

"Don't give him ideas," Athos smiled, in response.

"Roger. I like it, though. It suits him," Benjamin replied. They fell silent. Athos could see the boy quietly shifting his weight. Clearly, the leg pained him.

"It seems we are both compromised," Athos sighed, rubbing gently at his swollen knee.

The boy frowned.

"We both are beset by circumstance," Athos explained, before adding, "We cannot walk far."

"Oh!" Benjamin cried. "I can go and fetch Roger though. It's not that far. I'll bring you some bread and cheese too."

"What about your father?"

"Oh, Pa died a couple of years ago. It's just me and the chickens now," Benjamin replied, matter-of-factly.

"You are on your own?"

"I'm seventeen!" Benjamin sniffed crossly, before relenting, "It's not so bad. There's not much to do."

"Except rescue horses and Musketeers?" Athos smiled. "And how do you …?" he began, looking at the boy's lower leg, covered now by his trouser leg.

"I have to replace it now and again. Carve it myself," he added, proudly.

"Have you ever seen a professional?" Athos asked, in horror, before silently berating himself. Of course not - why, how could he, if his best was an old soldier?

"It ain't so bad, Athos" Benjamin said, gently. "And I've got herbs that I use to help with the pain and when the stump gets too sore to wear it."

"But it is padded?" Athos asked, cautiously. Hopefully.

"Oh, yes, I use moss and cloth and stuff. Sometimes I have to leave it off though."

Benjamin had to persuade Athos to sit and wait while he went back for Roger. "Bet he'll be surprised when I call him by his name!" he had laughed joyfully as he waved and disappeared amongst the trees.

"He certainly will," Athos murmured as he watched him go.

He leaned his head back against the tree and looked up at the branches above him. The broken old half-platform looked menacing now that he knew the story behind it and he wondered if he should shift. Shaking his head at the emotions that the lad had wrought in him, he closed his eyes but it was difficult to shift the images that assailed him and he was glad when the noise as boy and horse approached broke into his dark thoughts.

Benjamin was definitely limping now, but he had Roger until tight control. The great horse threw his head up and down when he spotted his master and came to stop in front of Athos, lowering his head to receive a forgiving stroke on the soft, dark skin between his nostrils.

Benjamin pulled a bundled cloth out from inside his jacket and handed it to Athos. Unwrapping it, he saw a good sized, soft chunk of cheese and a hunk of bread.

"I trade eggs for the cheese but I make the bread myself," the boy said, proudly.

Athos couldn't help himself tearing into it. "It's good," he nodded, truthfully, also accepting the freshly refilled water-skin. It did not hold water this time though, but a weak ale.

"Do you make this too?" Athos asked, after gratefully wiping his mouth.

"No, I trade my bread for that," Benjamin winked at him.

"Come with me, Benjamin," Athos suddenly said.

"What?" Benjamin laughed, before seeing Athos was serious. Even Roger was throwing his head up and down as if in agreement.

"Come to the Garrison. We are a regiment. We have skilled physicians and there are many retired soldiers with false legs that I'll wager are more comfortable than yours."

"My place is here," Benjamin said, his eyes flicking nervously around.

"I do not wish to permanently uproot you, lad," Athos replied, his eyes on the boy, detecting an air of trepidation in him, but also excitement. "Just get you a new leg."

"Well, that's good," Benjamin laughed, "'Cos there's a girl in the next village …"

Athos laughed and accepted the hand that pulled him to his feet. Staggering painfully, he grabbed Benjamin's shoulder. "You would be doing me another service. I cannot ride properly with this leg. Ride with me. I will see you safely home thereafter. After the King's physician has seen to you."

"The King's physician! But I have no money. I doubt my bread will be a sufficient trade," Benjamin cried.

"I have money," Athos replied, squeezing Benjamin's shoulder. "And I can think of no worthier cause today."

Benjamin looked up at Roger, standing passively. "He's a beautiful horse. I've never ridden such an animal," he said, as if that were the main reason to travel to Paris and to the King's Court. The twinkle in his eye belied his sentiment.

"Then, it is settled," Athos pronounced.

"And we have two good legs between us, Athos," the boy declared.

"That we do. Let's lock your door. Your chickens will manage without you for a while."

"We can stop at Old Ned's cottage. He'll keep an eye on them. They're good layers and he can use a few extra eggs."

"An admirable plan."

Benjamin stopped talking suddenly. "Paris," he breathed. "Do you mean this?"

"You have my word, and my thanks Benjamin. And Aramis will be getting worried by my absence."

"Who's Aramis?"

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough, lad," Athos smiled, as he hauled himself up into Roger's saddle and settled. Looking down at him, now every inch a King's Musketeer, he held out his hand to Benjamin and tilted his head;

"Let us not keep Paris waiting. You have quite a journey ahead of you."

"Do all Musketeers talk like you, Athos?" the boy asked, when he was safely seated.

"Not all. But you will soon see for yourself," Athos replied, as he gently shucked the reins and Roger stepped forward.

/

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