Chapter Three - Insomnia
Treville
They were late back. They were hours late back. They should have been back mid-afternoon and it was now nearly midnight. The other men had disappeared hours earlier, unaware that four of their own were missing. The other men had gone out into the city or retired to their rooms. The unlucky ones had headed for the Palace to relieve others whose turn at guard and patrol duty was done. Two men stood at the garrison gate. Their duty merely to prevent unwelcome visitors from entering.
But for Treville, there was no rest. For Treville there was no possibility of sleep. He was wide awake, he knew, just knew that there was something wrong.
Why were they so late back?
The mission, a secret one, one that he would only have trusted to his four best, was relatively simple. But the possibility of an attack was always there.
If they did not return soon, Treville would be forced to send out a search, forced to send other men into danger.
Treville could not rest, could not sleep. He paced. He started off pacing up and down outside his room, but the creek of the wood underfoot was loud in the stillness of the night. He did not want to alert the men who were sleeping in the garrison that something was wrong. His men, like him, were intuitive and a restless Musketeer Captain was a sure sign that something was wrong.
Treville had quietly descended the stairs and begun to pace around his garrison yard.
He looked at the table that they often congregated around before he ushered them out to work for their keep.
He looked at the stables where he had on occasion found d'Artagnan brushing the horses down, a hang up from his farming days, Treville was convinced the young man had moments of homesickness and found the action calming.
He looked at the armoury where he often found Athos checking that all was in place and Aramis occasionally cleaning guns unnecessarily.
He looked at the mess and smiled at the thought of Porthos harassing Serge for extra helpings of food.
Treville wanted to see his men in their respective places again. Wanted to watch Porthos beating another Musketeer in a friendly brawl, see Aramis showing off his sharpshooting skills, and applaud Athos and d'Artagnan as they sparred with increasing force until one of the others had to remind them they were on the same side.
Treville wanted to see them all wandering off out of the garrison together to get up to mischief in the city.
Treville sighed, he hoped, he prayed, he would see all those things again. He felt like a father, he felt like a mother to these men. He sent them off on missions and then worried continually about them.
He paced. The walking was not helping to tire him. He knew he would not sleep that night, not until they were back.
Treville found himself outside the infirmary door, he pushed it open and walked into the empty room. He rarely entered the room when it was unoccupied. He hoped it would remain so but somehow doubted it.
Without thinking he began to prepare the room for his men's return. He knew they would return, but he did not know what state they would be in. He readied bowls of water and cloths. He found bandages and the tools that would be needed to remove a musket ball. He knew that Aramis had his own medical equipment, but if he was the one that needed treating…
He made up four beds. He looked at them and tried not to imagine any of his men lying on them.
The room ready he returned to the yard and paced again. It was gone midnight. He was still not tired.
A muttered curse and soft hiss of pain followed by a quiet admonishment drew his attention to the garrison gate.
His men had returned, Treville breathed a sigh of relief.
The worry about his missing men was now replaced by the worry about what state they were in.
Treville would not sleep that night.
The End.