Chapter Three
The spy had been identified as Jerome Bardet. He was an unremarkable man, he did not offer much to the Royal Household and appeared to only be there due to his father's influence and an ability to sweet talk the King.
Athos, therefore did not see any issue with paying him a visit and asking him some pointed questions. They were sure Bardet was the spy, his behaviour, according to a trusted source of the Cardinal had been erratic for a couple of days recently, tying in with the attack on Porthos and Aramis. And now, he had despatched a servant with an apparently urgent message immediately after learning about another religious relic about to be transported out of Paris.
Now that the message had been despatched it would not hurt to confront the spy and find out if he knew anything that could help them find the people who were trying to steal the religious relics. Although they expected the courtier to be very low in the chain of command he may have some information for them.
D'Artagnan, Aramis and Athos approached the house. As they reached the door, d'Artagnan peeled away and snuck around the back of the building on the off chance that Bardet panicked and tried to escape from the rear.
After knocking Athos stood back from the door. A few seconds went by and the door was opened by Bardet himself. He looked a little shocked to see two musketeers at his door.
'Good morning,' began Athos, 'My name is Athos and this is Aramis, we are Kings musketeers and would like to ask you a few questions.'
Bardet's eyes widened further, he appeared to recognise Aramis' name. Aramis could not help a slight smile. Athos managed to jab him in the side when he noticed. What Athos did not want was the usually talkative musketeer to say something to scare the young courtier into silence. For once Athos was glad that Aramis had been unusually quiet for the last few days.
'Come…come in,' stuttered Bardet, indicating for them to enter.
'After you,' replied Athos, not falling for such an obvious attempt to evade them.
Bardet reluctantly led the way to a small well-appointed sitting room. He pointed at two chairs, Athos sat in one whilst Aramis stood by the door watching the young man intently. Bardet sat in a chair opposite Athos, glancing up at Aramis every few seconds.
'What can I help you with?'
Bardet was sweating, clearly worried. Athos took his time with his reply, stringing out the torture of the man.
'Who was the message for?'
'What?'
'The message that you sent yesterday.'
Bardet stared at Athos, incredulous.
'You sent your servant away, on horseback, with a message. Who was it for?'
Bardet had paled, Athos wondered if he might faint.
'Um…'
'You can answer our questions here, or at the Chatelet?'
If the young man went any paler Athos thought he might have to call a doctor.
'Um…message…um…to…er…'
Bardet was still glancing up at Aramis, it was clear that his presence was not helping their interviewee.
'Aramis, would you mind stepping out, perhaps you could send d'Artagnan in?'
Aramis nodded, not taking his eyes off the clearly frightened courtier. He left the room. Athos turned back to Bardet who was staring at the space Aramis had recently occupied.
'Do I need to ask the question again?'
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Porthos had managed to sneak out of the infirmary and was sitting at the table in the garrison yard. He knew he had been spotted but as no one had ordered him back to the infirmary he thought he was probably safe to stay where he was for a couple of hours. He was enjoying the fresh air. And watching the cadets being taught by the commissioned musketeers was entertaining.
Treville wandered over, he sat opposite Porthos and poured himself a cup of water from the jug on the table.
'How are you feeling this morning?'
'Better, bored. But better than the last couple of days.'
'At least you are not limping as much now.'
'No. It's really just my arm, that is causing me pain now,' lied Porthos. He still hurt all over, but he did not want to be banished back to the infirmary by his Captain.
'I see,' replied Treville, clearly not believing Porthos, but willing to overlook it.
'I'm worried about Aramis.'
Treville looked at him, waiting for him to continue. Porthos took a moment to phrase his next statement carefully.
'I think he's been affected by it, our captivity, more than he is letting on…he's not sleepin' and when he does he's having bad dream, or something.'
'How do you know? The last couple of nights he has been back in his own room.'
'The night in the infirmary, I was struggling to sleep and every time I was awake he was mumbling in his sleep…and you only have to look at him to see how tired he is.'
Treville waited until Porthos had finished. He thought for a few moments then replied, 'I am sure he is fine, let's give him another couple of days. If you still think he is hiding something I will talk to him.'
Porthos realised Treville was not going to entertain the idea that Aramis was not ready to be working. He decided to talk to Athos and d'Artagnan, he knew there would be no point confronting Aramis. Aramis would just deny there was anything wrong and make every effort to hide it from them.
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'I really don't know much. They…they pay me for any information I can give them.'
Bardet had calmed down a bit now that Aramis was not in the room. D'Artagnan had been a little surprised when Aramis had appeared around the corner and stated he had been banished from the interview as he appeared to be upsetting the courtier. It was the first time since their rescue that d'Artagnan had seen a proper smile on the marksman's face. He seemed positively pleased to have been dismissed from the courtier's presence.
D'Artagnan was now stood in the same spot that Aramis had taken a few minutes earlier. Bardet was clearly ready to talk.
'Ruiz, helped me out, he paid off a small gambling debt I had. All he wanted was for information about relics being moved about. Nothing else. I happened to see the notes that Monsieur Treville left behind and I realised the King was sending a reliquary to Dordogne. That was the first time I gave any information to Ruiz…'
The young man seemed genuine. He certainly seemed contrite. D'Artagnan felt a bit sorry for him. Bardet did not know that after they had finished with him he would be taken to the Chatelet. He would be kept there at least until the people behind the attempted theft and the attack on Aramis and Porthos had been dealt with. His future was very uncertain.
'Do you know where Ruiz is?' asked Athos.
'No…' the young man replied, although there was a slight flicker of his eyes, d'Artagnan suspected he was lying.
'Are you sure?'
'Yes…I…no…I mean yes I am sure I don't know where he is…I…um…I know that he is not their leader.'
'Who is their leader?'
'Oh, I don't know that,' the young man said, d'Artagnan believed this answer.
Athos turned to d'Artagnan and nodded. D'Artagnan knew that meant the interview was over and the young man was about to be arrested. He slipped out of the small house and beckoned the four guards over that had accompanied them.
Bardet complained quiet a lot as he was forced out of his house and away down the road. They watched him until he was out of sight.
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Ruiz rose from his prayers. He had been fervently praying for an hour. He quietly left the chapel.
The abandoned church that they had taken as their base of operations was calm and away from the town. The locals knew it was there and probably knew that people were living here but none had been curious to investigate.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper with the short message. It had been delivered to him that morning and was the cause of his need for prayer. The message had been simple and direct. The other musketeer was dead. The unfortunate man who was taken at the same time as Aramis had clearly died of his injuries.
Ruiz had not wanted anyone to be hurt at the time. He had thought the musketeer Aramis would have given the information he had easily. Ruiz had been mistaken, at first, he thought, as Briand had, that Aramis was holding back because he was protecting the information. It was only after the other one had been badly injured that Ruiz had finally believed what Aramis had said from the start; that he did not know anything.
Afterwards, as he had travelled back to their base of operations, Ruiz had regretted letting the men live. Briand had been correct, they should have been killed. It would, perhaps, have been a kindness to the other musketeer. But more than that, it now meant that he could not return to Paris for fear of being recognised by Aramis. An assumed name could not disguise his face.
He knew now, that given the opportunity, he would kill Aramis.
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Treville had gathered the four musketeers together in his office. They were spread across the room, Porthos gratefully sat in a chair, Aramis stood beside him leaning against the wall. D'Artagnan and Athos stood by his desk.
'Our plan has been set in motion. The spy is caught, and his message to the people responsible has been despatched. Other than keeping vigilant I do not believe there is much more we can do until the relic is sent on its way in two weeks' time,' he paused and glanced at his men.
Did Aramis look tired? Perhaps Porthos was correct, perhaps he had rushed the musketeer back to his work too quickly. His injuries had been minor compared to Porthos'. The drug had, they believed, worn off quite quickly and he was well enough physically. But he had been unusually quiet over the last three days. Treville had noticed Aramis staring off into the distance unfocused when he did not know he was being watched.
But now, that there was nothing to be done for a few days Treville decided to keep a closer eye on Aramis. He would assign him tasks that kept him near the garrison.
'We will reconvene when we are ready to start the second part of the plan.'
'Potentially sacrificing four Red Guard,' muttered Athos.
'I agree,' said d'Artagnan, 'why can't they be told what they are really doing when they are sent off on their delivery?'
'I know, but that is, unfortunately, not my decision to make. The Cardinal was quite clear when he said they were not to be told, and you two,' Treville looked towards Athos and d'Artagnan, 'must not interfere when they are attacked. If they overpower the attackers, good, we will have people to interrogate,' he paused again when he noticed Aramis stiffen at the word 'interrogate'.
Treville continued, 'but if they are injured…or killed, you will have to follow the attackers. You will not be able to help the guards.'
D'Artagnan shook his head whilst Athos looked away. Treville knew that, although there had always been animosity between the Kings Musketeers and the Red Guard, neither side would approve of this part of the plan.
Treville dismissed the man and went back to his work wondering if this was all a big mistake.
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A week later and Aramis was still only getting a couple of hours sleep a night. It was becoming harder to hide the lethargy he felt. Just managing to reach morning muster was a struggle. The only way he had managed to sleep through the night had been to drink more than his usual amount of wine. He had taken to finishing off a bottle in his room at night. But even that was not working each night. He was still waking suddenly in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and breathing hard.
The images were still of the chains that he was restrained by. The palpable feelings of helplessness. Not being able to help Porthos.
He longed to sleep without dreaming, or waking confused, several times each night.
He also longed for the cadet he was sparring with to be worse than he was. They trained their cadets to a high standard. Normally, however, he would have had the young man disarmed and probably on the floor by now. But today he was struggling. He knew it was the fatigue. He knew he should just tell the others he needed to stop. To rest. To get some help to sleep. But he could not.
He could not tell them he was having bad dreams. He was a musketeer. He should not have this kind of problem.
The cadet thrust forward again, Aramis sidestepped and intended to sweep his sword down and across but a wave of dizziness washed over him instead. His vision was becoming fuzzy.
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It was a bright morning, Porthos was again sat at the table enjoying watching the training. D'Artagnan was helping with some drills and Aramis was sparring with a cadet.
Porthos really was feeling better now. Only his broken arm preventing him from returning to his duties, that and the continued subterfuge that he was dead. He wondered how long he would have to remain hidden in the garrison for.
He knew that eventually there would be a need to investigate the relic collector's hideout, and he hoped that he would be fit for duty by then. Although he would have to travel in disguise, at least he could get out of the garrison and be useful again. He was, after all, their element of surprise. He hoped they would get to see Ruiz again. He wanted to deal with that man personally.
Aramis was sparring, badly, with one of the new cadets. He was making many mistakes, he was slow and telegraphing him movements. The cadet probably thought he was making the fight deliberately easy, but Porthos knew that was not the case.
As he watched, Porthos became increasingly concerned about Aramis. His friend looked pale and he was blinking, as if he was trying to clear his vision.
It still shocked him, when Aramis collapsed to the ground.
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