Chapter Two

This was not what d'Artagnan had wanted to be doing today. He had expected to be walking and sitting a lot. He had expected to be searching the house where Porthos and Aramis had been held and possibly watching for people who could have been involved.

He did not expect to be chasing after Aramis, who was, in turn chasing after one of the thugs that had helped to keep him and Porthos captive. D'Artagnan thought he recognised the man, but his view of the hired thugs had been limited from his hiding place.

The bruises he had received falling down the stairs when he had been fighting with Briand were not helping in his pursuit, he was able to keep up fairly well but not as well as he normally would.

He watched Aramis disappear around a corner. He reached the corner and turned into the quieter road. He was surprised to see Aramis had stopped chasing the man and was stood in the middle of the road hunched over with his hands on his knees. He was breathing heavily.

D'Artagnan came to a stop by Aramis, 'are you alright?' he asked.

Aramis nodded, but did not reply, he was taking deep breathes trying to steady himself.

'He's long gone now,' said d'Artagnan glancing along the now empty road, 'are you hurt?'

'No,' gasped Aramis, still trying to catch his breath, 'just…couldn't keep up.'

D'Artagnan grabbed his friend by the shoulders as he swayed. He pulled Aramis up, so that he was standing and helped him over to the side of the road where a couple of crates would make do as a seat for the obviously exhausted musketeer. D'Artagnan pushed Aramis down onto one and stood back to look at him.

Aramis looked ashen, his shoulder heaving with each breath. He was shaking slightly. He remembered how concerned Porthos had been that morning before they had set out. Aramis had assured them that he had slept well. But the man before him was clearly not as well as he had been making out.

'You shouldn't have come today. You should have stayed in bed, and actually slept. You're exhausted,' admonished d'Artagnan.

Aramis finally looked up as he managed to get his breathing under control. At least he had the sense to look contrite.

'Yes,' he said nodding, 'but I didn't want to wait. I wanted to help find the men who did this to Porthos and I…you won't…you don't have to tell the others…I…'

'If you promise to get some rest when we get back to the garrison, I won't tell anyone…this time.'

'Thank you,' said Aramis looking down at the ground again.

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Porthos was out of bed, he had not been allowed to go further than a chair next to the bed. But even that small achievement was something. Lemay had visited earlier in the day and declared his assorted injuries as healing well. Time was the only medicine that was really going to work. He just had to wait it out. The broken arm would heal, but not for a few weeks.

He would be allowed out, as far as the garrison training ground in the next couple of days, when he could walk without limping too much. He was, after all, officially dead. Whilst the other musketeers of the regiment could be trusted to keep up the pretence that he had died of his wounds, the general populous of Paris were probably not as reliable.

He sat now listening to the details of his colleagues work during the day. The plan of Richelieu was interesting, if worrisome. They were not fans of the red guard but for men to be sent on a potentially fatal errand without even knowing it was not good. He hoped, that should the red guard with the fake relic be attacked, they would be able to defeat their foe.

D'Artagnan had relayed the search of the house where they had been held and the brief but fruitless chase of one of the hired thugs. Porthos noticed that d'Artagnan had glanced at Aramis a few times whilst speaking about chasing the thug. Aramis had remained silent, not making eye contact with the others. Porthos again wondered if Aramis was really fit enough to be working, he looked tired, despite the obvious attempts he was making to hide the fact.

He could only hope that his friend would sleep better, in his own bed. But somehow, Porthos doubted it.

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How the Cardinal made any visit to him seem like a privilege was beyond Athos. The man was so full of his own self-importance it made him appear arrogant without any effort at all. But he was helping them. It was obvious he was only helping them because it helped himself, but it was help none the less.

'You realise your men may be injured, or worse,' reiterated Athos.

'Yes, yes, but that is of no consequence. What sacrifices' they make will be worth it.'

'Probably not to their families,' muttered Athos under his breath.

Richelieu was reaching a small box down from a shelf. He placed it on the table beside an identical one. He opened the one he had just placed there. Inside was a piece of cloth with what Athos believed to be depictions of creatures from distant lands. Richelieu treated the cloth with utmost dignity. He gently removed the cloth which was wrapped around something.

'This,' said reverently, 'is the Shroud of Saint Josse, also known as Judoc, who's bones are wrapped within. Few people know exactly what the design of the shroud depicts so I believe we can safely substitute it with a similar cloth.'

He opened the second box, within which was another cloth. Similar in colour and design, the second cloth appeared newer, but still aged enough to be convincing.

'I have added a few bones to make the copy complete. The late pauper will not miss his fingers.'

Athos had to hold his tongue. Not for the first time and certainly not for the last time he wished he could take his sword and run the Cardinal through.

'You are sure these religious thieves will not know the deception?'

'Yes, as I said, very few people know what the shroud looks like. And the chances of the heathens that will be sent to steal the relic being educated to any level is very low. I believe this will work adequately.'

'When do you plan to begin the deception?'

'I will mention the delivery of the relic later today. The King has an audience with most of his courtiers, and, as we are expecting our spy to be a courtier or a close servant of the King they are most likely to be there.'

Athos hoped the plan would work, and that the Cardinal would not make it too obvious that this was a subterfuge to root out the spy in their midst.

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Now that they were using Richelieu's plan to find the spy there was no need for Aramis and d'Artagnan to find the men who had kidnapped the musketeers. Porthos was glad of this, he knew that if the plan did not work they would have to start looking again, but, he hoped, he would be well enough by then to join his friends in the search.

Aramis was sat opposite him playing a hand of cards. Porthos had demanded Aramis stay with him for a while. He wanted time to talk to his friend, to try to work out what was clearly bothering him. Aramis was putting on a great performance. He had told the others that he had again slept well and was ready for whatever he was needed for in their search. When Treville had said that he would not be needed he had, for a few seconds looked upset, but he had quickly put the mask back up. He had joked with the others and offered to help at the palace but Treville had declined saying he and Athos were all that was needed at that time.

Porthos had again, noted that d'Artagnan was keeping a wary eye on the marksman. He had wanted to talk to d'Artagnan but the young man had sidled off to visit Constance whilst he had the opportunity.

'How did you sleep last night…really?' Porthos decided to try a direct approach with his obstinate friend.

'As I said, well. Better than last night,' replied Aramis as he lost another round of cards.

Porthos looked at him, although he was holding himself upright and outwardly appeared fine, his eyes told a different story. Aramis was not making eye contact, which was unusual, unless he was lying. Porthos realised that his friend was clearly too tired to realise that he was giving himself away.

But it was also clear that Aramis was not ready to accept that he was not alright.

'If you want to talk about it, you know where I am?'

'What do I need to talk about? I can't even remember what happened. I think, my friend, that you are reading far too much into this,' Aramis paused, he then, to Porthos' surprise made eye contact with him, and held it saying, 'I am fine. A little weary from the events of our incarceration, but really there is nothing for you to worry about.'

Porthos was still not convinced.

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The King had been briefed by himself shortly before the Cardinal arrived. Treville had quietly spoken out of earshot of the courtiers and servants. He said that the Cardinal was about to put the plan into action. The King, with unusual restraint had nodded and calmly walked away from Treville.

Raising from his bow Treville took a few steps back so that he could observe the room. Athos was already stood opposite taking in the various court hangers on.

Treville wondered how anyone could spend all their time fawning over the King. He was fond of the impetuous man but also found him infuriating at times. The manner that he treated people could vary from showering them in compliments to practically having them arrested for the slightest wrong doing. Treville had watched many times as courtiers had been sent on their way for answering the King in a manner that displeased him.

The doors opened and the Cardinal entered, he swept in, approaching the King with barely a glance at anyone else in the room. It was clear for all to see that the Cardinal felt that he was an equal to the King. After a quick bow, he waited for the King to speak first.

'Well Cardinal, what is it that sees you disturbing me, is there some urgent matter of state that you require my opinion on?'

Treville glanced at Athos who raised his eyebrows. The King was playing his part well. They both knew that some of the Kings behaviour was exaggerated. He was, when needed, a consummate actor.

'Oh no great affair of state your majesty,' began the Cardinal, who was also taking to his part in the deception, 'I merely wish to know if you would like to see the relic of Saint Judoc one more time before I have it delivered to its new home in two weeks' time. I wish to place it within its reliquary tonight and have the key sent separately for safeties sake.'

Treville and Athos scanned the room. The courtiers were, of course, listening intently. None seemed to be reacting overtly, they were all good at only reacting in a manner that would please the King. Treville was amused at the irony of this room full of actors, trying not to make a costly mistake. Only the King, and possibly the Cardinal could get away with forgetting their lines.

'I do not think so Cardinal, you may package up your little relic, it is of little consequence to me if you are sending it away.'

The Cardinal bowed and excused himself from the room. Once the doors had closed the courtiers resumed the quiet conversations they had ceased during the brief conversation between the King and the Cardinal.

Treville's attention was drawn to one courtier who was edging towards the door. The King had deliberately made himself busy talking to a visiting nobleman who they knew could not be the spy. This meant that, with luck, the spy would be able to leave without feeling they had to excuse themselves. They wanted the spy to slip out.

The man slowly making his way towards the door was not one of the courtiers Treville knew by name. He had been in the Kings favour a few months. Treville believed he was the son of a wealthy, titled merchant living in Paris. He was in his mid-twenties, with blonde hair and a slight build.

Treville caught Athos eye and nodded towards the man, Athos nodded back, he had already been watching the retreating man. Treville watched as Athos discreetly followed the disappearing courtier.

With luck, the plan was working.

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The courtier walked from the Palace with purpose, he did not look round. He was not out of place where he was so had no need to think he would be questioned. This behaviour worked in Athos' favour, it meant he could follow the young man with ease. Once they were out on the streets of Paris however Athos had to close the gap between them to ensure he did not lose the man.

Most of the courtiers lived close to the palace so Athos was not expecting to have to follow the man for long. Within a few minutes the man stepped into a modest house. Athos took up a position across the road and observed. He was rewarded by the site of the young man reappearing a few minutes later with a servant. They walked, together to the rear of the house where a small stable housed two horses. The courtier watched as the servant saddled one of the horses and mounted up. The young man said a few words to the servant and handed him a sealed letter. It was clear from their manner that the servant was taking an unexpected trip and that haste was required. Slapping the horse on the flank as the servant urged the beast on, the young courtier followed the horse and rider back to the road and watched them disappear out of sight.

Athos had seen enough; a message had been dispatched. He knew where the spy lived, returning with reinforcements the following day to question the man was the next step. They did not know how much, if anything, the courtier would know, but they needed to find out.

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He pulled at the chains, the metal biting into his wrists, he could feel blood dripping but he did not care.

His arms were screaming with the strain as he pulled.

If only he could get free of his bonds.

Porthos was dying.

He could not reach him.

Aramis woke with a start, sweating and breathing hard. Another dream. Another flash of memory. But the memories were always of the same thing. Being chained up, unable to help Porthos.

He wished he could remember more of their captivity. He thought that remembering the events would help him to put it behind him.

He had barely slept at all since their rescue. He had woken from his drugged state tired and had remained tired ever since. Feeling more exhausted with each passing hour. He wondered if this was a side effect of the drug he had been given.

Should he talk to the others about his difficulty sleeping? He knew it was having a detrimental effect on him, and that the others would notice. Porthos was already suspicious. But it made him feel pathetic. They had all been through traumatic events before and not been affected. No, he would get over this, he just had to hide it from the others until he did.

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