CHAPTER 15
They were running out of everything. Firewood, warmth, ways to stay awake, and even the desire to do so. The last trip they had made, together, to gather firewood left them so cold and exhausted that they had barely made it back to the campsite. Considering the island was hardly a quarter mile wide in its widest part, it spoke volumes about their stamina and condition.
They had stumbled back into the shelter and held each other as they shivered so violently and for so long they wondered if all their muscles would tear apart. Finally, the shaking subsided which, to the medic, wasn't all that reassuring. The mint leaves had been used up and they hadn't thought to get more when they were stumbling about getting firewood. Wood was imperative. Mint was not.
On one of the infrequent trips outside to take care of nature, Aramis, who still had Athos' knife, which he had taken earlier to whittle down a branch, saw a bunny on the snow. It didn't seem nearly as intolerant of the cold as he. A quick knife throw and they had food. It wasn't a very large rabbit, but they had roasted it and sucked every bone dry. The food helped replenish some of the energy the cold was leeching out of them.
While the food brought them much needed sustenance, it also made it harder for them to stay awake as their sluggish metabolism worked on digesting the meal.
"Athos," Aramis said loudly, for he had seen the swordsman's eyes closing. "Do you know what today's date is?"
"No. Nor do I care," he got back as a mumbled reply.
"Open your eyes!" Aramis commanded firmly. "We didn't come this far to give up now."
"Are you sure?"
"Athos!"
He knew Aramis was right and he was being selfish to leave his brothers behind, so he forced open his blurry green eyes. "The date?"
"What? Oh yes. Today is the day, before the day, before the day, before the day, before the birth of our Lord." He paused a moment. "Well, I think it is. I may have lost track of time."
"That seems a very convoluted way to look at it," Athos yawned as he ran a hand over the back of his neck and stretched his cramped muscles.
"And, do you know what we'd be doing if we were back in Paris," Aramis asked of his sleepy friend, ignoring the snide comment on his counting.
Unable to stifle another yawn, the swordsman mumbled, "Guard duty?"
"Yes, but where?"
"Palace," Athos answered, already growing tired of this game of questions.
"Well of course the Palace. But what would be going on?"
"I don't care. Guard duty is guard duty. Boring, but necessary."
Aramis drew his knees to his chest and rested his chin upon them. "The party. The King and Queen's holiday soiree. She always looks so beautiful in her gowns, the Queen that is."
"Didn't think you meant the King, or Rochefort."
"Even pregnant she will look beautiful. Carrying our child."
"Aramis!" Athos barked sharply.
"What? Aren't we alone?"
Glaring at his brother, Athos lectured him severely. "He is not your son. He will never be your son. Hell, he might not even BE your son!"
"He is. I know it. He is our son."
"Damn it to hell, stop saying that. Never. Even if we are alone. It is treason."
Aramis gave a heartfelt sigh. "Do you know what it is like to have something in front of your that you can never grasp? The pain and suffering?" Pausing a moment, he thought back on something Captain Treville had said about Athos and Milady. "Actually, you do know. The only difference is yours won't get you hanged."
"But yours will, get you and me both hanged," Athos said with no bitterness, for he had forgiven his brother for the danger he had put them all in long ago.
"I wonder, is being hanged for sleeping with the Queen better than dying from cold after falling in a river?"
"If you don't stop talking about the Queen,' Athos threatened, "I am going to take you outside and let you experience both, hanging and freezing to death simultaneously."
Silence settled over the pine bough lean-to and once again Athos found his eyes dropping shut.
"Athos!" Aramis barked, again startling him awake.
"How the hell is it you are staying awake," Athos groused as he shifted his position to find one that was actually less comfortable. He was tempted to bump his ribs or slap the burn on his forearm repetitively if that is what it took to stay awake. The burn, he feared was showing signs of an infection.
"I have an idea. As it is nearly Christmas, let us sing," Aramis happily suggested, for he loved singing carols in the church at midnight mass on Christmas eve.
"No."
"Surely you can sing." Pausing for a moment, he thought hard. "I think you sang once when you were drunk. A sea shanty of a rather dubious origin."
"All sea shanties are of a dubious origin. It is the environment and the audience for which they are intended."
"And where did a nice Comte like you learn such colorful ditties," the marksman asked with a sly smile.
"Probably heard if from you. Or Porthos. Maybe d'Artagnan, though I find that highly unlikely."
"I beg your pardon…"
"Don't bother."
"…but my musical repertory is solely based on the music of the church."
That actually caused Athos to snort. "My friend, more than once I have heard you singing the song about the farmer's daughter who raised ducks and liked to…"
"And, perhaps," Aramis interjected, "I know one or two songs I have heard in a tavern."
"Perhaps," Athos echoed as a shiver overcame his body, making his muscles ache once more and his teeth chatter. "I'm so damn cold," he muttered as the spasm ceased.
"Get up. March in place. Get your blood circulating," Aramis instructed as he rose to his own feet, dragging Athos up with him.
They both felt silly as they marched in place, in their braies, wrapped in blankets, but it did help warm them up. Soon though, they were back seated for they didn't have the energy to sustain the exercise for long.
"The sun has set," Aramis remarked as he reached out and poked at the fire to keep it burning evenly.
"It set hours ago," Athos informed him.
"Oh," Aramis said flatly. At least he had lost track of time in a good manner. "So, you know what that means?"
"You can't tell time?"
"It's even closer to Christmas," Aramis announced cheerfully, ignoring the humbug in the pine shelter. "Now we really need to sing carols."
"No."
"I think we have already covered that ground," Aramis declared. "Ok, if you won't sing I will just have to entertain us both." With that he launched into a rousing rendition of 'I Saw Three Ships' that went on for an eternity.
Aramis had a pleasant voice bordering on a countertenor, not that Athos told the marksman that fact. What the swordsman did say was, "You made that up."
"I assure you that song is all the rage in the Palaces of Europe."
"I thought you said your musical repertory came from the church."
"And," Aramis stated in a superior tone, "some of the more progressive churches are singing that tune."
"In Latin? At high mass?"
"Well no," the marksman said with a slight shake of his head. "But other services, in French."
Athos made a grunting noise that indicated he wasn't buying into that tale. "And you made up the last twenty-two verses."
"To keep you entertained. And now I'll move on to my next song."
The sweet strains of the 'Coventry Carol' filled the lean-to, Aramis' voice weaving the soothing melody. If Aramis heard Athos humming along under his breath, he gave no indication, just kept singing. Through the long night, Aramis sang all the songs he knew, and repeated, until he finally fell silent, his throat sore.
Looking out the door, hoping to see the sky lightening, Aramis was disappointed to see no signs of the dawn. It truly was an endless night. His eyes grew heavy as did his heart. He'd never be able to sing to his own child. Giving in to the temptation of sleep, he let his eyes close.
Athos realized Aramis had gone silent and he roused himself enough to peer over at his brother and saw his eyes were shut. "Aramis wake up!" he commanded repeatedly, but to no avail. Reaching over, he gave his brother a shake and only got a mumbled, unintelligible reply.
Softly, a song began to weave itself into the night air, carried by a strong tenor.
"Noël nouvelet, Noël chantons ici,
Dévotes gens, crions à Dieu merci !
Chantons Noël pour le Roi nouvelet !
Chantons Noël pour le Roi nouvelet !
Noël nouvelet, Noël chantons ici !
L'ange disait! pasteurs partez d'ici!
En Bethléem trouverez l'angelet.
Chantons Noël pour le Roi nouvelet !
Chantons Noël pour le Roi nouvelet !
Noël nouvelet, Noël chantons ici !
En Bethléem, étant tous réunis,
Trouvèrent l'enfant, Joseph, Marie aussi.
Chantons Noël pour le Roi nouvelet !
Chantons Noël pour le Roi nouvelet !
Noël nouvelet, Noël chantons ici !
Bientôt, les Rois, par l'étoile éclaircis,
A Bethléem vinrent une matinée.
Chantons Noël pour le Roi nouvelet !
Chantons Noël pour le Roi nouvelet !
Noël nouvelet, Noël chantons ici !
L'un partait l'or; l'autre l'encens bem;
L'étable alors au Paradis semblait.
Chantons Noël pour le Roi nouvelet !
Chantons Noël pour le Roi nouvelet !
Noël nouvelet, Noël chantons ici !
Aramis opened his eyes and listened as Athos sang to the wind and for the love of his brother, to keep him awake.
"You have a beautiful voice." If it weren't so cold, he'd swear Athos' blushed.
"Look," Athos said, clearing his throat. "Outside."
Aramis turned his eyes from his brother to the sky outside. Dawn had broken. The storm had subsided. They had survived the night. Now all they had to do was escape this island and somehow make it back to Paris.
NOTE:
Per the web - NOËL NOUVELET HISTORY AND MEANING
This traditional French carol dates from the late 15th century and the early 16th century. This carol celebrates all of the figures in the crèche, the handmade nativity scenes found throughout France, where they are part of the Christmas celebration in homes and in town squares. This song would be sung by families at home and at community gatherings rather than as part of the liturgy in Roman Catholic churches at the time it was written. There are many versions found from those early centuries. Translations into English and variations in French would all be colored by the denominational differences between Christian faiths and doctrines.
The song is in a minor key, in Dorian mode. It shares its first five notes with the hymn, "Ave, Maris Stella Lucens Miseris". The tune is used in the English version, "Sing We Now of Christmas."
I have heard the modern rendition of this song, 'Sing We Now of Christmas' on a Fred Waring recording (old) as well as a version by the acapella group Straight No Chaser (newer). The minor key gives it a haunting sound that is lovely.
