Chapter Eight

'Aramis!' Porthos shouted. He had been trying to get his friend to focus on him for a few minutes now. He had a firm grip on his shoulders and was shaking the clearly confused man.

He did not want to, but he could see no other way, he released one hand and slapped Aramis hard across the face.

It had the desired effect.

Aramis went still, and after blinking a few times he looked up at Porthos shocked. He was still breathing heavily but he appeared to be focused.

'You with me?' asked Porthos, Aramis continued to stare at him, 'if I untie you are you going to stay there?'

Aramis looked away confused, he pulled slightly at the ropes as if only now realising he was bound. He nodded.

Porthos made quick work of cutting the ropes with his main gauche. He helped Aramis to sit up, supporting his back when the marksman swayed slightly. He was probably light headed, his panicked breathing still heavy.

'Stay there, I'll get some water.'

Porthos rose and walked over to his horse, he grabbed his water skin and returned to Aramis who had not moved. He handed the water over and the musketeer took a couple of swigs. His breathing was gradually settling down.

Porthos sat on the ground next to Aramis and patiently waited for him to speak. It was clear Aramis was trying to work out what had happened.

'I'm sorry…' he finally said, still a little breathless, 'I…I should have told you…'

'Yes, you should,' although Porthos did not know what Aramis should have told him.

'The images, of you…injured…and I couldn't reach you…'

'But you did reach me, you helped me. I know you don't remember but you did. Whatever they gave you, what they drugged you with, it must have scrambled up your memories…well what little memory you have of it…you managed to reach me.'

Aramis looked off into the distance, his eyes unfocused again. Porthos noticed that his eyes were wet with unshed tears. He did not quite know what to do. He reached his arm around Aramis and pulled him towards him in a hug. Aramis did not resist the move.

They stayed that way for a few minutes. Porthos was not sure if Aramis was actually crying but his shoulders heaved a couple of times. He did not judge his friend, he just wanted him to get through whatever was bothering him.

Aramis sniffed then pushed away from Porthos' embrace. His eyes were red but they were focused again, he did not have the worrying look of fear that had filled them earlier. Porthos noticed a trickle of blood on Aramis temple.

'We need to look at your head, can you ride? I'd rather clean you up somewhere that isn't the middle of nowhere.'

Aramis clearly appreciated that Porthos was giving him the chance to move on and was not dwelling on the incident.

'The village is not far away, I've got rooms at the tavern,' he said simply, 'you won't tell the others, will you?'

'That someone attacked you? Yes, I will be telling them that. That you have finally told me what has been bothering you…no. Not unless you want me to.'

Aramis nodded. Porthos could tell this had not been easy for his friend. Admitting to a breakdown, regardless of how it had been initiated would be difficult. At least he had finally talked. Porthos was happy to leave things as they were, for now. Although he knew the others would not be happy if they found out he had not told them what had really happened.

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Athos looked round as they heard the horses approach. He sighed with relief as both Aramis and Porthos appeared around the corner of the tavern. Porthos smiled as he came to a stop, he dismounted and turned to steady Aramis as he reached the ground.

'Look what I found,' said Porthos keeping a steadying hand on Aramis' arm.

Athos took in Aramis, he was pale and had several bruises about his head. His clothes were muddy and he had a generally dishevelled appearance.

'What happened?' asked d'Artagnan.

'Let's take this inside, shall we?' suggested Porthos.

Athos nodded, and led the way into the tavern. D'Artagnan took the horses back to the stable.

As they climbed the stairs to their rooms Athos said, 'we were just on our way to find you, the landlord gave you some bad information. I think you may have been set up…the stable boy appears to have been working with the zealots, he has disappeared.'

'I think you're right,' said Aramis as he opened the door to his room.

Porthos pushed Aramis down on to one of the two beds in the room and busied himself finding what he needed to clean the injured man up. D'Artagnan entered with a bowl of water and some cloths.

'Courtesy of Remy's wife, she's feeling guilty about you getting hurt,' he said to Aramis.

'It wasn't their fault,' replied Aramis.

'So, what happened?' asked Athos again.

He noticed a quick glance between the men before Aramis replied.

'The stable boy must have put stones under the saddle, it made the horse skittish I had to dismount to deal with it. I must have been followed. They knocked me down…' he paused.

'Go on…'

'They tied me up…' he paused again, it was almost as if he did not want to relate the events, 'they tied me up and said that they were taking me to Ruiz. He wanted to be sure if was me, before he killed me.'

Athos thought for a moment, he could tell there was more to the story than Aramis was saying, but he did not want to push for the information. Porthos was cleaning the cut to Aramis' head. It did not look serious, although Aramis was pale.

'I found Aramis' horse and then him before they were able to get away,' Porthos said, filling in the gaps in the story, 'I killed them both…I didn't get the chance to keep either of them alive to question them.'

'From now on, you are not to be on your own,' he glared at Aramis who was clearly going to protest, 'you know it makes sense. And you,' he looked at Porthos, 'will have to remain a deceased musketeer for a little longer…I do not want the deception to become a reality. If Ruiz finds out you are alive he will want you dead as well.'

Porthos had finished cleaning up the head wound and had turned his attention to Aramis wrists which were grazed from the ropes that had been used to tie him up.

'If you could manage not to damage your wrists any further, I think it would be a good thing,' Porthos said, trying to keep the mood light. Aramis smiled at the remark.

'I will try not to reopen old wounds,' he replied quietly.

Athos noticed them glance at each other again.

'I'll order us some food,' said d'Artagnan sensing that they needed to leave Aramis alone. Athos nodded and followed d'Artagnan out.

'We'll be down in a minute,' said Porthos.

As they descended the stairs d'Artagnan asked, 'what aren't they saying?'

'I don't know, we'll have to wait until we can talk to Porthos alone.'

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D'Artagnan watched Porthos make his way across the room. They had expected that both he and Aramis would join them for dinner.

'He wanted to sleep it off,' was all the explanation they got as Porthos settled himself opposite Athos.

'Are you going to tell us the rest of what happened, it is obvious the pair of you left something out,' said Athos giving Porthos an inquisitive stare.

'No.'

'No?'

'No, I'm not,' replied Porthos again.

'Why?' asked Athos, exasperated.

'Because he asked me not to,' said Porthos with some finality.

But Athos was not ready to let the matter drop.

'Why?'

'Athos,' said Porthos leaning forward towards the man opposite him, 'if he wants to talk about it he will. He asked me not to say anything so I won't be betraying the trust he has in me…'

'But he's OK, isn't he?' asked d'Artagnan, who had decided that a slight change in the conversation would benefit them all.

'Yes,' said Porthos, leaning back in his chair, still looking at Athos, 'he's OK. I'll vouch for him.'

Believing the matter to be settled he reached for the wine bottle, but Athos got to it first. Athos was not yet ready to let the subject drop.

'Is he a liability to our work?'

Porthos sighed returning his gaze to Athos, 'he is fine. He was just attacked, again, and has a bump on the head. It dredged up the issues he had when we were taken. But he is fine now. Please take my word for it and leave it be for now.'

It was clear to d'Artagnan that Athos was not happy with the situation but he acquiesced and released his hold on the wine bottle. Porthos took it with a brief nod to his superior and poured himself a generous cup.

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The three enjoyed their dinner in companionable silence. The disagreement between Porthos and Athos put aside.

Porthos looked up as Remy approached wringing his hands. He sidled up to them, hovering a few feet away until they were all looking at him.

'Sirs,' he said as he finally managed to reach their table, 'my wife and I feel just awful about what happened to Monsieur Aramis…um…I have…'

'Spit it out man,' said Athos tersely, it was clear that he was in no mood for the hesitant man.

'We think we know where Tom has gone.'

This got their attention. Porthos put down his spoon and pushed his soup aside.

'Where?' he asked.

'Well my wife, she was washing a pair of his breeches and in the pocket, were a few berries…I guess he picked them and was eating them on the way back but didn't finish them all.'

'Where?' asked Porthos again, knowing how Athos felt, the landlord was being far to hesitant. He was clearly nervous about speaking to them after his last piece of information had caused Aramis to be injured.

'Up near the old church. The berries only grow up there, the soil is a bit different there. The berries never grow in the soil here,' he finished, his words gradually getting faster and rolling into one.

It was d'Artagnan's turn to get agitated with the man, 'where's the church?'

Taking a breath Remy said with certainty, 'two miles north of here in a small wooded area.'

The three musketeers sat at the table breathed out, it seemed to have taken an eon to gather the small piece of information.

'Thank you,' said Porthos. Remy smiled and backed away before scurrying back to the safety of the bar.

They watched him go. Porthos returned to his soup, D'Artagnan took a drink of wine and Athos sat forward in his chair.

'D'Artagnan and I will go and have a look, there are still a few hours of light left, we can walk there, have a look around and be back before it is dark. We will reconvene then,' he paused glancing at d'Artagnan who nodded, he turned to Porthos, 'do you think Aramis will be up for joining us by then?'

Porthos appreciated Athos had finally decided to trust his judgement of the situation, 'yes, a few hours' sleep and he'll be fine.'

'We leave in ten minutes.'

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They made good time, heading across country to the abandoned church. They found the wood and crept slowly forward until they could see the church. It would have been an impressive building. The main part was largely intact, but the windows were smashed, and the roof had fallen in towards the rear in places. The sacristy was intact, wooden shutters had been fashioned over the windows.

There were rudimentary tents slung up behind the church. It was clear that the zealots were not living in the church, but using it as their meeting place and probably for storage as the doors were still evident. Heavy impenetrable doors. Athos guessed any stolen relics were stored within.

There were a few men milling around. It was difficult to tell how many men there were. It did not look like there were too many. Judging from the number of tents that had been pitched they could handle the zealots between the four of them.

'I think we have seen enough,' said Athos quietly.

They backed away from the fallen tree they were crouched behind. Once they were out of sight of the church they turned and started to walk back to the village.

The wood was deceptively thick. Athos realised, too late, that it was prime ambush territory. Seven men surrounded them swords drawn. Both d'Artagnan and he had their swords drawn in a second ready to fend off the men.

D'Artagnan fired his gun which he had drawn at the same time as his sword, he took out one of the men. After he had used the weapon as a club on a second man he dropped it and went to work with his sword.

Athos had followed a similar path, although his shot had not taken a man out, merely wounded him in the arm. But it gave Athos an advantage, he managed to slice one of the other attackers across the throat and punched another hard enough to break his nose.

The man he had shot was, unfortunately able to reciprocate, Athos only just noticed the gun being levelled at him in time. The shot rang out as he tried to move out of the way, but the searing pain in his side told him he had not moved quick enough. He collapsed to the ground with a yelp, two of the attackers on him before he could move again. They pinned him down. His mind whirled, random thoughts rushing. D'Artagnan.

Athos managed to look round. D'Artagnan was busy with three men, he did not appear to have noticed Athos' plight. Athos yelled with his remaining strength.

'Run, get away…now...go.'

D'Artagnan looked at Athos, horrified to see the musketeer overpowered and pinned to the floor. But his order was clear, he had to leave his superior to his fate, there was no point in them both getting caught. He needed to regroup with Porthos and Aramis. Taking a final lunge forward to push the men he was fighting back he turned and ran, as hard as he could.

Athos watched him go. He hoped the young man could get away. He watched d'Artagnan run as his arms were pulled behind him and were tied. He watched as he was gagged by the men he had been fighting. He only stopped watching when he was blindfolded and could watch no longer.

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