Chapter Nine

After watching Athos and d'Artagnan disappear from sight Porthos walked back up to their rooms. He wanted to check on Aramis. The marksman worried him. Despite putting on a reasonably good act when they had returned earlier Porthos knew that Aramis was still worried what the others would think about his breakdown if they were to find out. Porthos wanted to reassure him that he had not said anything. And he wanted to try to again persuade his friend that there would be no harm in telling the others what had happened.

As he approached the door to their room he could hear mumbling. He sighed, his friend was having another dream. He quickly entered, it was, as he had thought, Aramis was thrashing about on the bed in his sleep.

Porthos grabbed his friend's arms and pinned them to his side he called the marksman's name firmly. Aramis awoke suddenly with a gasp pulling away from Porthos' grasp, scrambling to sit up. He stared at Porthos for a few second not comprehending what had happened.

'You have to talk to Athos and d'Artagnan. They won't hold this against you. Athos is already asking if you're fit for duty.'

Aramis could not make eye contact with Porthos. He looked ashamed. Porthos reached out and placed a hand on his friend's leg.

'I'll talk to them,' he said with resignation as he managed to look up, Porthos smiled and patted his leg before rising.

'Come on. Let's meet them outside when they get back,' he put his hand out to assist Aramis up.

Once standing Aramis caught Porthos arm, he turned back towards the marksman.

'Thank you,' Aramis said quietly, 'I'm not sure I would have accepted that I had a problem without you.'

'I know, I am a very good reader of people. And I can read you like a book…now, you are going to buy me a bottle of wine.'

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Aramis was still worried about talking to the others. He really did not look forward to how Athos would react. He was going to confess to breaking down, to not being able to deal with his own issues. Despite what Porthos had said, he felt pathetic. He was having panic attacks, this was not something soldiers did. Soldiers got on with it, they should not be affected by a simple thing like being held captive. He had not even been badly injured. And yet he was still suffering the after affects, even after Porthos had been given the all clear. Porthos had suffered a broken arm whilst he had just been chained up.

'I can see the thoughts running around your head.'

Aramis looked at Porthos who was staring at him.

'Stop worrying about what they'll think. You were tortured, it might not have been physical but it was still torture.'

'It shouldn't have affected me though…'

'Well it did. And now you're going to talk about it and then you will feel better,' said Porthos firmly as he refilled his cup with wine.

Aramis was still not sure.

They were both sat outside The Hare on a bench, leaning against the wall of the tavern. It was quiet, the villagers keeping to themselves in their homes. The Hare was empty apart from the musketeers.

D'Artagnan's hurried, breathless approach had them both on their feet. Porthos grabbed the young man by his shoulders as he skidded to a halt and was in danger of falling to his knees. His shoulders heaving as he gasped for air.

Porthos and Aramis exchanged a worried look, there was no sign of Athos. Aramis took a few steps in the direction d'Artagnan had come from. He peered along the road, it was empty. He looked back to see Porthos guiding d'Artagnan back inside the tavern, he followed, concern etched on his face.

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Porthos listened intently as d'Artagnan related what had happened to Athos and himself when they had been attacked.

'Was Athos injured?' asked Aramis.

'I don't know, when I saw him they had him pinned to the floor…but I did hear a gunshot just before he shouted at me to go…'

Aramis was busy cleaning the cuts that d'Artagnan had received on his run back to the village. If the situation were not so serious he would have been teasing the young musketeer mercilessly. D'Artagnan told them the injuries were due to him falling into a thorny bush, not from his fight with the zealots.

Porthos leaned forward and caught the young mans troubled eyes, 'you did what you 'ad to. If you'd both been captured it would've been only us two,' he indicated Aramis and himself, 'left to free you.'

D'Artagnan nodded, 'I know. We need to end this. It will be tough but I think the three of us can take them out. I don't want to wait for reinforcements. Athos may not have that long.'

Porthos agreed, 'yes, we need to leave as soon as possible. I think it might be time for the reports of my demise to be proven false.'

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Aramis spread his medical kit out across the bed, he wanted to double check he had everything he might need. If Athos had been hurt, he might need to treat him in the field. He felt ready, the impending action helping to focus him. They were planning a sneak attack, they would take out as many of the zealots as possible without alerting the camp to their presence.

A soft knock at the door drew his attention. Clearly it was neither d'Artagnan or Porthos who would have just walked in. He opened the door. A young boy, who looked a little scared stood on the threshold.

'Monsieur Aramis?' he said with a shaky voice.

Aramis nodded, looking down at the boy, who held up a sealed letter. Aramis took the letter from the boy who wasted no time in running off and disappearing down the stairs.

The letter was from Ruiz. Aramis tore it open and read the contents…

'I have your friend. He is injured, but not seriously. Provided he receives treatment soon he will survive. I have no reason to harm your friend.

It is you that I want. You have one hour to hand yourself over to me. Meet me, alone and unarmed, in the clearing half a mile to the West of the church.

Your death will be swift and your friend will be freed.'

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The floor he was lying on was damp and cold. The air was humid, but not stuffy. Athos tried to sit up but the pain that seared through him from his injury left him breathing hard and wishing he had remained still. He remembered his arms had been tied behind him, they still were, and the blindfold was still in place. He stilled and listened intently, trying to work out if he was alone. After what felt like a few minutes he was sure he could hear someone else's breathing. He tried to pin point where the sound was coming from.

'You are not badly injured. The ball only grazed your side, it is deep, but we have bound the wound and it has stopped bleeding,' came a quiet voice, 'you should be released within the hour and I am sure your musketeer friends will be able to deal with it.'

The sound of approaching footsteps had Athos stiffen in anticipation, of what he did not know. Hands were on his shoulder's helping him up into a sitting position, he was helped to lean against a wall.

'I did not want this to happen. I do not want people to be unnecessarily hurt whilst we pursue our quest.'

'What quest?'

'To collect the relics that our Lord requires. Pottier has directed us to collect as many sacred relics as we can. Only a couple of days ago another relic arrived. Saint Judoc will take pride of place in the church.'

Athos wondered if Pottier would realise that what he had was a fake, that the real relic of Saint Judoc was safely back in Richelieu's rooms in Paris.

'Why are you going to release me?'

'Because you have not seen me, I do not have to worry about you recognising me. I made a mistake leaving Aramis alive, I know that now. I should have killed him when I had the chance. But that will be remedied soon enough.'

'What do you mean?' Athos asked, not bothering to hide the worry in his voice.

'He is going to sacrifice himself for you. A noble gesture. Better to be a martyr than live in fear.'

'He won't give up his life for me,' said Athos, hoping that he sounded more certain than he felt. Given the way Aramis had been acting lately he was not so sure.

'We will see shortly.'

Athos heard the man stand and walk away, a door was closed. All Athos could do was wait.

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Aramis walked with purpose. He felt naked without his weapons. The familiar feeling of his guns at his waist and his sword tapping at his leg were reassuring. He had been told to go unarmed. As Athos' life might depend on it he had heeded the message.

It felt oddly calming to walk to his own execution. He was lost in his thoughts, he had no issue with sacrificing himself for his comrade. He would do the same for any of his friends. As he knew they would for him.

He had read the letter from Ruiz several times. Short and to the point, he could see no other course of action than to follow the instructions. He had left the tavern and walked towards the rendezvous within minutes of receiving the letter. There had been no time to do anything else. He had only been given an hour.

He aimed for the clearing, he knew where the church was and after nearing its location he had veered off to the West. As the clearing came into view he paused for a few moments. He reached for the cross he wore. Said a prayer, then walked into the clearing, ready to meet his fate.

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