Chapter Twenty Three - Self-sacrifice

Aramis (with d'Artagnan, Athos and Porthos)

'But I can't get it any cheaper, Captain,' said Serge with a sigh. 'And this lot needs feeding proper if they're gonna protect the Royal family.'

Treville nodded, 'I know, but see what you can do. I don't like to complain; the King will only see it as another excuse to put up taxes.'

'And that ain't gonna solve anything,' agreed Serge before he wandered off to the storeroom.

Treville watched the old soldier for a few seconds. Aramis, who had been waiting nearby for orders stepped forwards.

'Perhaps you should ration Porthos,' he suggested with a grin.

Treville shook his head, 'at this rate I may be rationing you all.'

The men looked towards the garrison gates as both Porthos and d'Artagnan hurried through.

'The Red Guard garrison was burgled last night,' said d'Artagnan as the stopped.

'What was taken?' asked Treville with concern.

'Gunpowder, and a lot of it,' replied Porthos. 'The Cardinal is seething. He's ordered his men to search and the King has given orders for us to help.'

Porthos handed Treville a letter with a Royal seal. Aramis read the order over his Captain's shoulder. The Musketeers were to search one half of the city with the Red Guard dealing with the other.

'I'll draw up a plan,' said Treville, 'send you all out in small groups. With luck, we can recover the powder before it has been split up and shipped out of the city.'

MMMM

The four of them spread out to search the market. Athos knew it would take time to check every corner, under all the stalls, behind and within all the carts. He spotted Aramis talking to a few street boys across the market. The lads were talking animatedly and pointing in different directions. It was clear their information was not useful, Athos shook his head as the generous Musketeer still gave each boy a coin for his troubles before sending them on their way. He looked up, making eye contact with Athos and shook his head. Both men continued to search.

They could not be too obvious with their search, they did not want the people of Paris to know that their soldiers had allowed themselves to be burgled. Even though it was the Red Guard and not the Musketeers who had suffered the loss would still reflect badly on the protectors of the Royal Family.

A movement towards the darker end of the market caught Athos' eye. A figure covered in a dark cloak ran from behind a makeshift screen that had been erected by a couple of stall holders to stop people coming up behind them in order to steal. Athos moved around slowly, being careful not to attract the attention of the locals.

Athos made eye contact with d'Artagnan who was with Porthos on the far side of the market and nodded towards the area he was heading in. D'Artagnan nodded and turned to speak to Porthos who looked across to where Athos was.

Athos reached the screen and looked behind it. A wall of crates was positioned across the cobbled ground, blocking the way forward. Athos checked behind him, when he was sure no one was looking in his direction he clambered up a couple of the crates and peered over the top. Sure enough, the gunpowder barrels were stacked up behind the crates. Worryingly there were trails of gunpowder leading under the makeshift screen towards the market. He looked down and saw another couple of trails leading under the crates and in the direction the cloaked figure had gone.

'It is there?' asked Aramis from behind Athos.

Athos twisted around to see Aramis busy breaking the line of gunpowder by scuffing his boots through them. Once satisfied the marksman looked up.

Athos nodded, 'we need to find whoever put this here. It has been done deliberately.'

'I'll destroy any other lines of powder first,' replied Aramis as he moved away and disappeared further into the centre of the market.

Athos stepped off the crate and walked back out towards Porthos and d'Artagnan.

'Someone wanted to cause an explosion here,' he said quietly to the two Musketeers. 'Aramis is dealing with the gunpowder, but the thief is probably still nearby. Spread out to search.'

Athos was about to move away but found himself prevented by d'Artagnan gripping his arm and pointing upwards towards one of the buildings that bordered the market. Athos looked in the same direction.

The bright, dancing flame of a lit arrow, pulled back ready to fire from a bow, could be seen in a high window. All three men knew immediately what was about to happen. All pretence of a quiet search was abandoned.

MMMM

Evacuating the market had become the most important thing. D'Artagnan knew they probably only had seconds and that panic from the Parisians was inevitable. Porthos yelled for people to move. All three of them shouted as people began to scream and run.

Athos had taken off in the direction of the archer. D'Artagnan saw him disappear into the building, hoping he would be in time to stop the burning arrow being fired at the gunpowder, but knowing he would not be.

People continued to rush about, confused and scared. An old man was knocked to the ground in front of d'Artagnan, he pulled the frail man up and helped him away all the time urging people to leave the market.

The explosion, when it came, knocked all those still in the market to the ground. A rush of heat spread above them before receding back to the source of the explosion.

D'Artagnan pushed himself up onto his knees. The old man was trying to get up. D'Artagnan helped him reach his feet. A couple of women stepped forward and took the old man away. D'Artagnan nodded his thanks as he turned to survey the damage.

The building that the gunpowder had been next to was now so badly damaged it would have to be destroyed and rebuilt. Windows had been knocked out all the way around the market square. Debris lay across everything.

The human cost did not seem high. The panicked people had at least been running away from the explosion. People were pushing themselves off the ground and brushing themselves off. There were a few cries of pain, but all the injured people were being tended to. Small groups of people were forming around anyone who had not managed to get themselves to their feet.

They had been very lucky thought d'Artagnan.

MMMM

Athos found his way back to the market square. He had still been climbing the stairs when the explosion had rocked the building and blown out the windows. He had reached the room where the archer had been to find it empty. Athos had decided that there was no point trying to find the man who no doubt had already planned an escape route.

Seeing the devastation in front of him Athos took a moment to work out what needed doing first. He decided that finding his brothers was his priority. They could then coordinate what was to be done.

Porthos was helping a couple of injured men to climb onto the back of a cart as Athos approached him.

'Many casualties?' asked Athos.

'A few,' replied Porthos, 'most were heading away from the point of the blast. I've seen at least two dead and a few with serious injuries...it could 'ave been a lot worse.'

Porthos had grazes on one side of his face and was rubbing at his arm as he spoke.

'Have you seen Aramis?' asked d'Artagnan who walked over to them. 'He would have been directly in front of the blast, but I can't see him anywhere.'

Concerned the three men spread out and started to look for their brother. At Porthos' shout, Athos and d'Artagnan rushed over.

Aramis was lying sprawled across the cobbles. Porthos, who had knelt beside his friend was helping a small boy to stand. It was clear that Aramis had used his own body to shield the boy from the blast. The boy blinked a few times as he got to his feet. He stared at the three Musketeers for a few seconds before breaking free of Porthos and running off losing himself within the crowd a few seconds later.

A groan from Aramis had them return their attention to him. Several pieces of debris had embedded themselves into Aramis' back and legs. A piece of flying glass was still protruding from the back of his hand where he had tried to shield his head as he and the boy had fallen to the floor.

'Aramis?' asked Porthos as he lay a hand on his brother's arm.

All Aramis could manage was another groan. He was blinking and did not seem focused, but his eyes did betray that he was in pain.

'We need to get him to the infirmary and a doctor as soon as possible,' said Athos.

MMMM

Despite knowing that they could not simply pick their injured brother up and leave the market square, Porthos knew that they all wanted to do just that. But they were soldiers and they were professionals. D'Artagnan remained by Aramis talking to him, trying to keep him awake and assess where his assortment of injuries were. Porthos and Athos had reluctantly gone back to helping the citizens of the city that had been caught up in the blast.

As soon as reinforcements had arrived they commandeered a cart and gently lay the injured man on the hard, wooden base. Aramis had tried to stand but failed miserably, d'Artagnan had told him off for even attempting the move.

Now they were in the garrison infirmary. Treville had taken one look at Aramis and nodded to them. He muttered something about them all being injured to some degree and therefore were of no use in the continued search for the perpetrator, at least not for a few hours. Each of them had nodded their thanks to the Captain and returned their attention to Aramis.

The doctor, a good man who was often called to the garrison when a Musketeer was injured to such an extent that they could not deal with it themselves, was quietly talking to Aramis. The plump, middle-aged man had crouched down by Aramis who had been laid face down on the table. The doctor smiled, squeezed Aramis' arm and rose to stand. As the doctor stood up Aramis closed his eyes. Porthos knew his friend had been fighting to stay conscious, perhaps out of dedication despite being in no state to further help at the market.

'He agreed that we have no choice but to cut his doublet off, he won't remonstrate with you,' the doctor said with a smile. 'He's got movement in all his limbs, and I think, provided we are careful as we remove the debris and clean the wounds well, he will be fine. It will be painful and difficult for him but with your help, he will recover.'

'Thank you,' said Athos.

They worked in unison to deal with their injured brother. The doctor directed them to carefully cut the ruined clothes off Aramis, taking their time, leaving the protruding bits of wood and glass for the doctor to deal with. The doctor gave Porthos the job of washing the wounds ready for stitching where necessary.

What felt like hours later to Porthos they finished. Aramis remained unconscious throughout their ministration for which they were grateful. After carefully moving him to a bed the Musketeers took stock. Porthos had lost count of the number of stitches the doctor had put in. There were several bandages around various parts of Aramis' body and bruises were showing starkly against the injured man's skin.

'If one of you can stay with him, I don't want him moving about too much,' said the doctor as he rinsed his hands in a bowl of clean water. 'He can move to lie on his side to eat but otherwise, at least for a couple of days he really needs to stay as he is. He won't be able to sit easily due to the injuries on his back. He should be alright to stand, but he will be weak and in pain so please don't leave him alone. We don't want our hard work undone by him collapsing and pulling the stitches.'

Athos and d'Artagnan did not even try to suggest that they sit with Aramis first. Porthos just took a seat and settled himself beside his brother.

The doctor squeezed Porthos shoulder as he walked towards the door, 'I'll be back tomorrow to check on him, I will come sooner if he develops a fever...but let us hope he does not.'

Porthos said, 'thank you.'

'I'll bring you some food,' said d'Artagnan as he followed Athos and the doctor from the room, 'and I'll ask Serge to make some broth, I doubt Aramis will want a proper meal when he wakes.'

Porthos watched Athos escorting the doctor from the garrison as d'Artagnan disappeared towards the infirmary.

'Did the boy survive?'

Porthos looked back at Aramis. The mumbled words clear enough for him to have understood. He shook his head. The injured, no doubt in pain, Musketeer was more interested in the boy he had saved than himself.

'Keep still,' said Porthos when Aramis tried to move.

'The boy?'

Aramis tried to move again, Porthos was forced to lay a hand on his friend's shoulder to still him.

'The boy ran off, he seemed fine...what happened? Can you remember?'

Aramis blinked a few times before replying.

'The market...explosion…' he paused, taking a few shaky breathes, 'I saw the arrow...knew there was no time...the boy was just there. He must have become separated from his parents.'

'You saved his life,' said Porthos.

Aramis was asleep again within a few moments. The brief spell of consciousness had reassured Porthos that what the doctor had said was true. His brother would be alright, in time.

MMMM

Aramis had managed to twist himself to lie on his side. Being able to make the move on his own had felt like a major achievement. He had hated being so reliant on his brothers over the last few days. When he had properly woken up the pain had been almost unbearable. He had almost wished he could fall into unconsciousness until the pain went away. He could not move very much due to the stitches and had to be helped to do anything. The first time Porthos had helped him up to stand had seen him nearly pass out several times.

The doctor had returned daily to check and redress the worst wounds. The fact that the doctor could see no signs of infection had been well received.

And now he just had to wait. Wait for the wounds to heal. Wait until he could be back on his feet properly. On his own, without help.

He was facing the door of the infirmary, reading a book, it was about all he could do for himself. That and slowly reach forward for the cup of water on the table beside the bed.

The door was pushed open. Aramis watched, a little confused, as Treville walked in followed by a man he did not know. The man was followed by a small boy. The boy, his hand clasped firmly by the man was wide-eyed.

Aramis stared at the boy. The boy looked at him for a few seconds before shying away and pressing himself into the man's leg. Aramis guessed the man was the boy's father. The man, in his thirties, looked a little apprehensive.

'Aramis,' said Treville, 'I'm glad we've found you awake. This is Monsieur Simon Babin, he is young Jean's father.'

Aramis managed a smile, 'I recognise Jean.'

Babin took a step forward, the young boy hid behind his father.

'Monsieur, I'm sorry it's taken us so long to come and thank you...'

'You didn't need to thank me-'

'...we did, Monsieur, Jean...he...when he got back to us he was so scared. He was trembling. He didn't speak for two days.'

Jean had crept out slightly from behind his father, he stared at Aramis. The Musketeer could tell the boy recognised him. He smiled as warmly as he could.

'When he finally was able to tell us what had happened and he described the man who had saved him...my wife...she recognised your description.'

Aramis saw Treville raise his eyebrows at the comment.

'Jean is our only child...Monsieur we cannot thank you enough for what you did.'

'It really was nothing…'

'Aramis, it was hardly nothing, from what the others have said you could have got further away. You sacrificed yourself to save Jean.'

Treville was almost admonishing in his tone.

'Is there anything that you need monsieur?' asked Simon.

Aramis shook his head. Treville sighed.

'You could make them some bread papa,' said Jean, his small voice barely loud enough over the noises of the cadets outside the infirmary.

'They don't need bread Jean,' said Simon with a smile.

'Actually…' said Treville.

Aramis watched as Treville and Simon talked for a few minutes about the cost of bread. Jean spent the time creeping ever closer to Aramis eventually standing by the bed.

'Thank you for helping me...I'm sorry I ran away…'

Aramis managed to reach out and stroke the boy's arm.

'You were scared...it's alright.'

'Jean, let's go. We need to let Monsieur Aramis rest.'

Aramis winked at the boy who managed a smile before turning and rushing back to his father's side.

Treville saw the baker and his son out of the infirmary before returning to Aramis.

'He's just offered us a much better deal on bread than Serge has managed to get. You need to save a few more merchants children, Aramis.'

Aramis chuckled, 'as long as it is not quite this painful each time I will gladly oblige.'

Treville pulled up a chair and settled beside his Musketeer, Aramis blinked a few times, knowing he was falling asleep again.

'We'll work out what we need next when you are recovered. For now, rest. There will be no more self-sacrificing today.'

Aramis soon lost the battle to stay awake.

The End.

Authors note: Twee and predictable or what!