Part Two

Pawns are such fascinating pieces, too.
So small, almost insignificant, and yet - they can depose kings.
Don't you find that interesting?

Chapter Nine

"Athos, a word."

He turned to find Treville at his shoulder. "Of course."

They were having a short break for refreshments. While the food was brought in Athos snagged a glass of wine and followed Treville outside. The two walked some distance down the corridor and settled before a window, well out of earshot of the assembled dignitaries.

"What do you think?" Treville leaned against the sill and settled a thoughtful gaze on Athos.

"I think waging a war on two fronts will stretch our forces a little thin."

"Exactly, I'm not sure how much stock to put in these reports of movements along the Netherlands border. In there they all seem to take it as a sure sign the Spanish will attack, but our spies have not yet confirmed it."

"To move forces north when they are needed to the south would seem unwise. It could be a ruse."

"And what if it isn't?"

Athos took a long sip from his glass. "And therein lies the difficulty of your position."

Treville sighed. "Sometimes I feel like I'm playing a game of chess. You move a piece, just to lose a piece. Only it's men's lives you're playing with."

"Do you regret taking the position?"

Treville was quiet for a moment before answering. "Better me at the King's side than somebody else. We've both come to learn that much. Do you regret taking your position?"

Athos stared down into the deep red wine. Treville might be the one playing chess, but he was the one having to watch the men fall. "Somebody has to do it… We should get back."

He hated this part of the job as much as the bloody battlefield. Having to rub shoulders with the other dignitaries, putting on airs and graces. He'd never liked it back when he'd been the Comte. He felt like he was pretending to be somebody else. It wasn't until he joined the musketeers that he'd really felt at home. Athos took in a deep breath and prepared himself to go back into the lion's den.

They stepped away from the window.

From down the corridor the world exploded.

Athos felt himself blown from his feet, and then there was nothing.

~oOo~

"Athos? Athos, wake up. Can you hear me?"

He let out a groan and tried to pry his eyes open.

"That's it, you're all right."

There was a high pitched ringing sound surrounding Treville's voice. Athos longed to shake his head to be rid of it, but he surmised that would not be a good idea. He put all his effort into opening his eyes and Treville's face gradually blurred into view.

"Wha… What happened?" He coughed, and tried to push himself up.

Treville's hands were there to help.

"An explosion. Come on, we should see if there are survivors."

They lurched to their feet and stumbled towards the scene of devastation.

When they got as close as they could Athos turned away with a strangled choke.

There would be no survivors. Nobody could have survived that. The floor had fallen through, the remains of the room were rubble. Nothing was left. Dust filled the air and pieces of stonework still fell. It wouldn't be safe to get any closer.

"I don't think there's anything we can do here." Treville gently pulled at his arm and led him away.

Athos covered his mouth with a sleeve and coughed. "How did this happen?"

"I don't know… I don't know." Treville sounded dazed.

They were still somewhat shocked by it all.

Men came running past, and stopped short as they reached the room. There was nothing to be done. There was nobody to save.

Athos felt a trickle of blood run down his face. Treville was similarly scratched, no doubt by flying debris. The world seemed strangely detached. And then there was a man in front of him, taking his face in hand.

"Forgive me sir, let me see."

Athos tried to pull away. "I'm fine."

"You're bleeding. Will you let me take you to the infirmary?"

"No, I told you, I'm fine."

"Go, Athos." Treville cut in. "Go, and I'll come with you."

~oOo~

Once they were finished in the infirmary Treville sought out whoever was left of the command, while Athos went to help with the clean up. Bodies had to be removed, and the structure had to be made safe.

When Athos woke up that morning he couldn't have imagined he would be spending the rest of the day pulling dead men from rubble. As he hefted stone with the others his mind set to work… was this an accident? Or was it intentional? Had Spanish spies infiltrated the castle? Nothing was known at the moment, it was all conjecture. All he could do to help right now was move debris and retrieve bodies.

He recognised most of the commanders. They were broken and bloody, but he knew them. He knew their names, their lineage, what lands they came from. But there were nameless servants and guards amongst them. Death touched all men equally. The explosion had not discriminated.

Athos continued working in something of a daze. He supposed his senses would come back to him later, and he could numb them with alcohol then.

As it happened Treville found him before he reached his room. Athos was most grateful to see he had a bottle in hand. They collapsed at a table in his room, Athos only rose to find a couple of glasses and pour out large drinks for the two of them. He felt completely drained in every way possible, and he supposed Treville was suffering from something similar.

"Any news?" Athos asked with a hoarse voice.

"The Captain of the castle garrison is still alive. He seems to be taking charge."

"What did he say?"

"They have a man in custody who they believe might be responsible. He worked in the armoury apparently, he's saying nothing though."

"I want to talk to him."

"Let them do their work."

"You think they're capable of getting answers?" Athos asked somewhat skeptically.

"I think they need to try."

"You know they'll simply beat him senseless and claim he confessed. We need answers, we need to know if it was intentional, and if it was we need to know if he was working alone, if there are any more out there, if…"

"Give them a couple of days at least. Feelings are running high. This happened on their watch, they need to feel as if they're doing something."

"Even if they're only ruining our chance to make sense of this mess? Will there be anything left after a couple of days?"

"If you go down there they'll just see the musketeers swooping in to take over. You'll get their backs up, and then you'll get nothing."

Athos gave a sad smile. "You truly are becoming a man of politics."

The look of disgust on Treville's face told Athos what he thought of that.

After a mouthful of wine Treville changed the subject. "They want to move us. They fear our lives may still be in danger if there are others out there."

Athos raised an eyebrow. "If it was an attack rather than an accident."

"It was an attack, it has to be. An explosion timed to coincide with our meeting… this was no accident."

"We can't know for sure, not unless that prisoner speaks."

"Will you come?"

"I'm not going anywhere without answers. We nearly died, a lot of men did die. I need answers."

Treville examined Athos over the rim of his glass and took another long drink. "I thought you would say that."

"I take it you mean to leave?"

"I'm the Minister for War. I don't get the luxury of a choice." Treville drained his glass and got to his feet. "Enjoy the rest of that bottle, and get some rest."

"Goodnight, Minister."

Treville paused with his hand on the door and looked back. "I hope you find your answers."

~oOo~

The next day Treville was moved on. All of the soldiers were on alert, and all of the civilians were on edge. Gossip ran rife, everybody had a story about a suspicious man lurking in the shadows. But the only one who's story really mattered was the prisoner's. Athos was itching to speak with the man, but he complied with Treville's advice and held back. When a couple of days had passed he approached the prison guard and as he expected he was brushed off. They wouldn't let him in. Athos requested to speak with the Captain, but he was a hard man to pin down. He was taking charge in wake of the explosion, Athos couldn't blame him for being busy, but this was important.

Another few days passed before Athos managed to speak with the Captain. He found the man in the middle of coordinating a questioning of the armoury workers.

"Captain Lecocq, I don't think we've been introduced. I am Captain Athos of the King's Musketeers."

He gave a dead eyed look over his paperwork. "I know who you are."

"Might I be of any assistance?"

"Everything is in hand here. You can help by following the Minister and going somewhere safe." Lecocq turned his attention back to the paperwork.

Athos internally gave a sigh. This wasn't going to be easy. "Well, I would rather make myself useful. Perhaps by speaking with the prisoner?"

"You don't need to do that."

"I might be able to get him to talk. I might be able to find some answers."

"We don't need your help. We already know it's the Spanish."

"And how do you know that?"

Lecocq tore his gaze from the paperwork and settled it on Athos with an undeniable air of smugness. "Well, for a start he looks as if he has Spanish blood in him. And then there's the fact he's speaking Spanish."

"Is he now? And what has he told you in Spanish, hm?"

The smugness fell away a little at that. "None of us speak that accursed language. But he knows French, he was working here after all. It won't be much longer before he breaks."

"Let me talk to him. A different approach might yield results."

"Don't worry yourself about it, we'll get results. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm busy. Good day to you, Captain."

Athos near enough growled as he stalked away. Lecocq might as well have said 'I'll get results, I'll take the glory', Athos could see straight through him.

Every attempt to see the prisoner in the coming week was rebuffed. Eventually Athos had to threaten to get the Minister for War involved, but even that didn't move Lecocq. He probably considered the Minister was well out of the way for now. Athos wrote a letter to Treville all the same. If it was going to take orders from the Minister to get what he wanted then that is what he would seek. It was just going to delay matters unfortunately.

One morning Athos found Lecocq mustering a few men to ride out.

"Captain! Where are you going? Have you any information?"

"We are going to Saint Lizier, the prisoner let slip those words, and a name."

"What name?"

"That is not your concern."

"I'm coming with you."

Before the Captain had a chance to object Athos went to find his horse. It was about a day's ride to Saint Lizier, and Lecocq did his best to ignore Athos' presence. He soon found out the name though, the soldiers began to question the locals about a 'Romero'.

Nobody knew a man of that name and nobody had seen any strangers recently. Athos made his way over to tackle Lecocq.

"What did the prisoner say about this Romero? Are you sure he's an accomplice?"

"He said nothing, just the name and this place."

"Nothing at all?"

"He was speaking... under duress. That was all he managed."

"So we've ridden out here for nothing." Athos scowled. "It could mean anything. It could be his father, a childhood friend, anybody. Men come out with all sorts of useless, irrelevant, information when speaking under duress. If you had just let me talk to him…"

"We may find something yet. I will organise a search of the place in the morning. The hour is getting late, we will spend the night at the inn. Go rest, and cool your temper."

Athos very nearly shouted that there was nothing wrong with his temper. But then that wouldn't be entirely true. He was getting frustrated with the foolishness of this man and his methods. They had just tortured a couple of words out of the prisoner and gone on a wild goose chase. Athos took in a deep breath and tried to let calm wash over him. Soon he would have orders from Treville, and then they would have to let him see the prisoner.

~oOo~

After spending a couple of days in Saint Lizier and returning to Foix empty handed Athos was desperate to receive Treville's orders. Another few days passed before a boy rode in and searched for Athos with a missive. Athos near enough snatched his arm off, but he had enough about him to offer the lad a coin for his trouble. He barely took in a word of Treville's letter as he made his way to the prison, he just ensured the important part about seeing the prisoner was there, as well as the Minister's signature and seal.

The prison guard let out a sigh at seeing Athos approach. No doubt he was as tired of dealing with Athos as Athos was of dealing with him.

"For the last time, I'm not letting you through."

"Oh yes you are, my friend." Athos thrust Treville's orders at him with a smile.

The guard gave them a read through and hummed unhelpfully. "Should really show the Captain first…"

"Whether you show him or not you're going to have to let me in. It's there in black and white. Your Captain can't override that."

"Very well." The guard reached for his set of keys. "Dupont! Show Captain Athos to the Spanish prisoner."

Another soldier took the key and bid Athos follow him. They made their way down some stairs and along rows of cells. Athos covered his nose with his sleeve at the stench. He was sure he would get used to it. It was just quite overwhelming at first. The guard came to a stop before a door and slid the key home into the lock. The door creaked open to reveal a dark room within, Athos couldn't make anything out, all he could hear was the clink of chains.

The guard took a torch from the wall and placed it inside before motioning Athos over. "He's chained to the wall, so he can't get at you, just don't go too close to him. Knock when you want to come out."

Athos stepped in and the door closed behind him, the heavy wood slammed shut ominously. He peered into the room, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the flickering torchlight. Just as the guard had said, there was a figure chained to the wall. The man leaned against it, he was curled up, and hiding his face in his knees. Long, lank hair helped to conceal his features. Athos supposed the light must be hurting his eyes after spending most of his time in darkness. And then Athos noticed the tell tale signs of abuse. The dirty blood stained shirt, the dark bruising that marred the skin on show. His wrists were rubbed raw, and Athos was sure there would be more once he uncurled and revealed himself.

"It's all right. I won't hurt you. I just want to talk."

At hearing Athos' voice the slight trembling of the man's frame suddenly stopped. He seemed to seize up. Was he scared?

"There's no need to fear me. Will you show me your face?"

He shook his head.

"I want to talk about what happened. I think you know something about the explosion. Will you tell me your name at least?"

The prisoner seemed to press himself into the wall a little more.

"My name is Athos."

A whimper issued forth from the man and he set to shaking again, even worse than before.

"No, tú no…" His hoarse voice was muffled by the arms circling his knees. "Tú no estás aquí…"

"Look at me, please."

"El diablo ha venido a atormentarme." A wracked sob accompanied the words.

"Just show me your face."

Slowly the prisoner brought his head up and turned to Athos. Dull eyes peered through the unruly locks obscuring his face. Familiar eyes.

Maybe it was a trick of the light.

It had to be a trick of the light.

It couldn't be him.

But under the scruff it looked like...

"Aramis?"

Something snapped.

The prisoner… Aramis… surged to his feet and rushed forwards. His arms were pulled back as he reached the limits of his chains. Athos fell back and hit the wall, startled by the sudden movement. Aramis strained against his manacles, there was something wild and feral in him. His teeth were bared and he snarled like an animal.

"Salir te diablo!" Spittle flecked the air as he roared the words. "Déjame solo!"

Athos just stared in disbelief. "It can't be you… you're in Douai… It can't be you."

The door flew open and the guard rushed in. He beat the prisoner back with a hefty wooden stick. Cries of pain split the air and Aramis retreated to the wall once again.

"Are you all right?" The guard turned to ask Athos.

"It can't be him. It can't be." Athos looked up as if in a daze.

"We should get you out of here."

The guard reached for him, but Athos pulled away. "No! I need to talk to him."

"You can't, he doesn't make any sense. You've seen that already."

"I have to try. He's my brother."

The guard looked more than a little surprised at that.

"Leave us. I'll knock if I need you."

"The Captain will have to hear about this."

"Tell the Captain what you like. I'm not going, now leave us."

Athos waited until the door was closed again, and then he turned his attention back to the man against the wall. It was Aramis. It looked like Aramis. It sounded like Aramis. But how could this be Aramis?

He sat on the floor, legs spread in front of him this time. Hands lax in his lap. Athos noted the swollen joints at his fingers that told of dislocation. No doubt part of the torture. His blank gaze was heartbreaking. Aramis' eyes seemed to stare straight through Athos.

"You can't be here." Athos seemed stuck on disbelief. "How are you here?"

"Fantasmas están por todas partes en estos días…"

Athos frowned. He couldn't work out how Aramis had gone from being a monk in Douai to being a murderous traitor in Foix.

He took in the thin frame of his friend. The air of neglect told of more than just imprisonment.

"What happened to you?" Athos whispered.

"Por qué te importa?" Aramis spat.

Athos didn't understand. Why was he speaking Spanish?

"Why don't you speak in a language we can both understand, hm?"

Aramis fixed his dead eyes on Athos'. "No estoy para hablar con usted, para miro, o darte la satisfacción de mi atención." And then he looked away again.

His answer to that suggestion was clear enough.

"Will you let me fix your hands at least?" Athos moved forwards and reached out.

"No me toques!" He pulled his hands back with a rattle of the chains.

That would be a 'no' then...

"Aramis, talk to me, please."

He shook his head and stared at the floor as if he could set it alight with his gaze.

"I need to understand. I need to know what you're doing here… how you're involved in this." Aramis remained mute. "Tell me it was an accident, tell me you're not to blame."

When he spoke his voice was as hollow and dead as his eyes. "Lo hice. Yo quería que murieras."

"Aramis, I can't understand you."

"Usted nunca ha hecho."

"I want to help you."

"Te odio."

Athos sighed. He felt useless. He couldn't help Aramis if he couldn't understand him. There were no answers here, just endless questions. Athos swiped a hand over his tired face. He needed to talk to a friendly face, and ideally somebody who knew Aramis.

This wasn't getting him anywhere.

"I will come back tomorrow."

Aramis curled up on the floor and turned his back to Athos.

"I cannot say that I am pleased to see you like this. But if it means anything, I am pleased to see you."

There was no answer.

Athos went to knock on the door. It broke his heart to leave Aramis, but he needed help.

AN: Quote is by Tidhar.

First of all - to any Spanish speakers I apologise. I've only had Google translate to work with.

Second of all, I've been really torn over how to provide the translations. Listing them at the bottom lets you feel Athos' confusion (unless you speak Spanish) and doesn't disrupt the flow of the text, but it's not easy to see what bits the translation corresponds to. Putting them in the text is probably going to look messy and disrupt the flow, but it lets you see what Aramis is saying.

Another option would be to copy bits of translated text down here so they keep their context. The difficulty would be in not copying half the story. Argh.

Ok, I'm going to try that last one:

"My name is Athos."

A whimper issued forth from the man and he set to shaking again, even worse than before.

"No, not you." His hoarse voice was muffled by the arms circling his knees. "You can't be here…"

"Look at me, please."

"The devil has come to torment me." A wracked sob accompanied the words.

~oOo~

His teeth were bared and he snarled like an animal.

"Get out you devil!" Spittle flecked the air as he roared the words. "Leave me alone!"

Athos just stared in disbelief. "It can't be you… you're in Douai… It can't be you."

~oOo~

"You can't be here." Athos seemed stuck on disbelief. "How are you here?"

"Ghosts are everywhere these days…"

Athos frowned. He couldn't work out how Aramis had gone from being a monk in Douai to being a murderous traitor in Foix.

He took in the thin frame of his friend. The air of neglect told of more than just imprisonment.

"What happened to you?" Athos whispered.

"Why do you care?" Aramis spat.

Athos didn't understand. Why was he speaking Spanish?

"Why don't you speak in a language we can both understand, hm?"

Aramis fixed his dead eyes on Athos'. "I am not to talk to you, to look at you, or give you the satisfaction of my attention." And then he looked away again.

His answer to that suggestion was clear enough.

"Will you let me fix your hands at least?" Athos moved forwards and reached out.

"Don't touch me!" He pulled his hands back with a rattle of the chains.

That would be a 'no' then...

"Aramis, talk to me, please."

He shook his head and stared at the floor as if he could set it alight with his gaze.

"I need to understand. I need to know what you're doing here… how you're involved in this." Aramis remained mute. "Tell me it was an accident, tell me you're not to blame."

When he spoke his voice was as hollow and dead as his eyes. "I did it. I wanted you to die."

"Aramis, I can't understand you."

"You never have done."

"I want to help you."

"I hate you."