Insurgency
Chapter Two
It took a long time to groom and feed a dozen horses. By the end Aramis was tired, sweaty and smelling none too sweet. He walked out to the yard to find that it had gone dark. He had obviously missed Vespers and probably also the evening meal. He brushed stray pieces of straw from his black robe and went to the well to draw some water.
He cupped his hands, lifting the water to his lips. It slid down his throat like the sweetest of wines. Unbidden his mind turned to memories of nights with his friends or spent in the arms of a beautiful woman. He almost groaned aloud at the spectre of his next confession and the penance he would have to pay for his thoughts. He had been content with the routine and discipline of monastic life but that had all changed with the arrival of the Spanish. Suddenly he felt more alive, his body readying for a fight. It was exciting and totally contrary to the expectations of the Order.
"Brother Rene."
The elderly monk who approached him was one of Aramis' favourite companions. Philippe had lived in the monastery for over forty years and had many stories to tell. Aramis smiled warmly in greeting. "Brother Philippe. How are you this evening?"
Philippe suffered with his joints and Aramis was concerned for him. They had a competent infirmarian who supplied a soothing salve but even that wasn't enough to ease the old man's suffering. During his early years at the monastery he had been permitted to help tend the sick and injured. However, since Father Guillaume's promotion to Abbot he had been barred from spending time in the infirmary. He was told it was for the good of his soul to let go of all his earthly passions, a sentiment he found increasingly difficult to accept.
"My fingers are not as nimble as they once were, my young friend, but I endure."
"What can I do for you?" Aramis used some of the well water to cool the back of his neck and wipe the dirt from his face.
"Father Guillaume has sent for you."
None of Aramis' trepidation showed on his face. He had become adept at hiding his emotions during his long years of exile. "What have I done now?" he asked, only partly in jest.
Philippe sighed. "He didn't say. Be wary, Brother. The Spanish Colonel has already started to issue orders. You should not admit your former profession if anyone asks. I believe him to be a cruel man."
"I will take your good advice to heart."
Aramis entered the main building and walked to the Abbot's study. He knocked on the door, waiting for the invitation to enter. Once inside he stood with his head bowed and his hands clasped in front of him. It had taken many months before the urge to stand to attention had left him. Now, the submissive pose was second nature.
"You completed your task?" Father Guillaume looked at him without warmth.
"Yes, Father."
"You will continue to tend to our visitors' horses."
Aramis looked up, anger flaring in his dark eyes. "You would welcome the Spanish?" he asked unwisely.
"Do you question my judgement?"
"My apologies," Aramis said, knowing that was the only acceptable answer.
"Your temper continues to be problematic," Father Guillaume said. "You will discuss it with your confessor."
"Yes, Father." Aramis mused that his temper had never been in issue when he was a Musketeer nor during the early days at the monastery.
"Colonel Marquez has given his word that we will not be harmed if we cooperate."
Aramis was uncomfortably aware of Guillaume's stare boring into him. This was the reason for the audience. He was being ordered to behave. "They are enemies of France."
"Would you have me risk the lives of everyone here?"
"No, of course not."
"Then heed my words well. No-one is to leave and visitors are to be turned away. Colonel Marquez assures me they will be gone in a few weeks. Until that time we will all stay within these walls."
"What of those who come seeking healing?" He looked up through lowered lashes to gauge the reaction to his question.
"They must find help elsewhere."
"But our duty…"
"I did not call you here for a debate. Tell me, Brother, are you happy here?"
Once he would have answered in the affirmative without reservation but recently the peace he had found seemed to be slipping through his fingers. "I am content."
"Yet you still have not made your vows."
"I have my reasons." He had made a private vow to God to dedicate his life in return for the safety of the Queen and Dauphin. No-one knew the specifics just as no-one knew he had lied under oath. It weighed on his conscience making him unworthy to take the final step into the priesthood. Every week he resolved to confess his mortal sin only to shy away at the last minute. He told himself that he was still protecting Anne and his son. The truth was he was afraid of the condemnation and confirmation that he would burn in hell for all eternity.
"Whatever your reasons you are a member of this Order and under my authority. I require your word that you won't interfere with the Spanish."
"I will not do anything to jeopardise my brothers." In that moment not even Aramis could have said with complete honesty to which set of brothers he was referring. He bowed deeply and took his leave.
TMTMTM
"I cannot abandon my command," Athos said. "Neither can I spare any men to leave the front."
"This is Aramis we're talking about," Porthos protested. "How can we abandon him?"
"Whatever might have happened over the last four years Aramis is a Musketeer. He can look after himself."
"Not against a troop of Spanish soldiers," d'Artagnan said.
"He is a monk. What cause would they have to harm him?"
"You said yourself that he won't sit back and let them run riot over the countryside," Porthos argued.
"I'm sorry, Porthos. My decision is final. I will send word to Paris. Treville will send out the reserves."
Porthos pushed himself to his feet, his body rigid with anger and fear. "He's our brother and you would leave him to face the Spanish alone." He turned and stormed out of the tent.
Athos poured wine into his glass and drained it. "Do you condemn me too, d'Artagnan?"
"You have your duty. I'm not happy about it but I understand. Porthos will come round eventually. He has missed Aramis all these years and had held to the hope that one day we'd be reunited."
"We have all missed him. I would go if I could."
"I know."
D'Artagnan left Athos alone. He passed a sleepless night railing against the demands of his position. He remembered the good years when the three of them had been inseparable. He thought of the events that had brought their youngest brother into their lives and pondered on the brutal events of the last few years. He missed their old life and, like Porthos, had long thought that Aramis would return to them. As the time had passed he realised it was a foolish dream.
He rose from his cot, lit the candles and started to compose his report. It would take at least a week to reach Paris. Then it would take time for Treville to mobilise troops. During all that delay Aramis could be in danger. The urge to saddle his horse and ride north was very strong but he knew and understood his duty. He sent men into danger every day. This was no different. At least that was what he told himself.
At first light he sent out two couriers with instructions to ride hard. He saw Porthos watching him. The big man turned away with a grimace, a clear indication that he was not yet forgiven. He returned to his tent, ate a frugal breakfast and perused the reports from his scouts. By mid-morning he began to feel as if he was suffocating within the confines of the tent walls. It had started to rain so he swathed himself in his cloak and walked outside.
Athos was deep in discussion with the farrier when one of the outlying guards came to report that a small convoy was heading in their direction. The camp was immediately put on alert until they could ascertain the identity of their visitors. When Treville rode in accompanied by four guards Athos felt his mood lighten for the first time that day. He strode over to meet his former commanding officer, holding the horse's bridle so that Treville could dismount.
"Minister, this is a surprise."
"Good morning, Captain. The King decided he wanted first hand news of our progress."
"Come inside." Athos turned to one of the younger Musketeers. "Can you have food and wine sent to my tent?"
Once out of sight of the men their stiff formality disappeared. Treville removed his cloak and hat and sat on one of the camp stools. He looked weary.
"How are you, Athos?"
"I am as you see. This war has been hard on everyone."
"And the men?"
"Eager to push into Spain and end this conflict."
The food and drink arrived and Athos poured wine for them both. He sat with a heavy sigh.
"I have news from Court. Spain has sent an ambassador to explore the possibility of a truce."
Athos sat forward eagerly. "Phillip has capitulated?"
"Not yet but the war has been a drain on the resources of both countries and there are rumours that his advisors have recommended that he sue for peace."
"So this might soon all be over?" Athos felt the first stirrings of hope that life could return to normal. Then he remembered the news they had intercepted the night before. "We captured a courier last night. The Spanish have sent small groups of soldiers to the north of the country to spread panic."
Treville put down his wine glass. "This is ill news. If Louis finds out about this it could sway him towards a continuation of the war. Do you have the details?"
Athos searched through the mass of papers on his desk, finally pulling out the message. Treville read it with a frown and then looked up. "Douai?"
"Yes. Apparently they have sent Colonel Marquez."
"These incursions must be stopped before they do any damage. From Douai the Spanish would be able to push towards Paris. The Colonel is a hero to the Spanish. His deeds and cruelty are legendary. Capturing or killing him might be the final push needed to bring Phillip to the bargaining table. How soon can you be ready to leave?"
"I'm needed here," Athos said, even though he wanted to go so badly that he was almost shaking.
"I can take command. This is a vital mission that could hasten the end of the war. Pick half a dozen men and get on the road as fast as you can."
Athos wasted no time in sending for d'Artagnan and Porthos. Both arrived speedily, greeting Treville warmly. Porthos, however, continued to look at Athos as if he was some particularly nasty species of insect.
"Gentlemen, I need you to select four men for a special mission. We leave before nightfall."
"We?" Porthos queried. "Where are we goin'?"
Athos could no longer hold back his joy and excitement. He smiled broadly at his brothers. "Douai. We're going to Douai."
Tbc