III
Dear Athos,
Aye, you may be certain I was anxious of mind when I did not hear from you for months! I had determined to set out upon your trail at the next opportunity, but duties here in Paris kept me from embarking - and then your letter arrived. I'll have you know, it reduced Constance to tears, though she insists I allow they were tears of joy.
d'Artagnan turned his head to kiss his wife as she wrapped her arms around him from behind and bent to press her check to his.
"You make it difficult to write, my sweet."
"I know, I will leave you alone in a moment. I am just so relieved to know they are safe. And settling in Pinon. I had hoped they would return to Paris, but at least Pinon is not so far away."
"Aye," d'Artagnan agreed. "Were the miscreant here, I would punch his lights out for leaving us so long in the dark about their whereabouts. Mmmmmm," he murmured, rubbing cheeks like a cat.
"You, my good sir, are all bristly." Constance drew aside just far enough to look down her nose at him. "I love that smooth-skinned baby face of yours. But this makes you look - older," she said consideringly. "More mature." She brushed her hand lightly over the stubble on his jaw. "And it will soften in a few days."
d'Artagnan scowled. "Not you too. I get enough of that from Aramis, who has no room to talk about who looks too young for their post," he muttered, dipping his quill back in the ink. "And if I don't finish this tonight, who knows when I'll have time to work on it again. So, my dear," he kissed her with lingering promise, "if you will depart and stop distracting me, I will be the sooner done. Though I must write two more reports after this and check on the recruits before I can join you in retiring."
Constance sighed but made no demure; she well knew the demands of command. "Wake me if I have fallen asleep. Sylvie's letter has made me hungry." She hugged him tight, kissed him once more upon his bristly cheek and departed the office with swift steps.
d'Artagnan tapped the quill on the ink stand and returned to composing his response.
Mine were tears of relief. I have been regularly visited by nightmares of your desecrated bodies flung off the road somewhere, left to rot with no one the wiser, though I knew in my heart you could not be dead for I would have known if such a dreadful thing had happened. Still - do not EVER do that to me again.
You have returned to Pinon? Read an exclamation in that question. Constance thought you might, though I did not believe you would return to that house and the memories it holds. Let alone with Sylvie. Constance had already informed me she intends to be there for Sylvie's lying in; it remains only for you to let us know when. I intend to escort her personally, Aramis can take over the garrison for the duration.
I suppose in your understated way, you are announcing that Sylvie has undertaken to restore you to the status of lord of the manor, though I am sure her intention is merely to establish good relations among your neighbors. Will you allow her to accomplish this goal? I would remind you of your promise to return to the responsibilities you devolved to me on your departure to - undertake a leave of absence to fulfill a mission of great importance - according to your lady wife. If you do not intend to use that pauldron you wore out of here, I will be needing it for one of my new recruits. As you are well aware, they cost a fortune to produce and this bloody war Aramis is now running is costing France not only her sons, but the crown's financial resources as well.
The sound of water pouring into a tub distracted the captain. d'Artagnan was of two minds about the retinue of servants the queen had placed at their disposal. Constance would have young men aplenty to do her bidding when they were able to return to quarters in the garrison, but personal attendants were above a captain's pay grade. He was grateful for the service now though, as it meant Constance, who continued to work as hard as any recruit, did not have to come back to more chores at the end of a long day. That she could bathe every day. And wear clean clothes without having to lug loads of laundry along to the laundresses. He would have to assign her an aide-de-camp when they returned to the barracks, he mused with a rueful grin, returning to his composition with the symphony of small splashes emanating from their personal quarters promising a beautiful sunset on this day's activities.
By the way, Aramis is content playing patty cake with the king and consorting very discreetly these days, I will leave it to you to imagine with whom. I doubt he will be traveling to Pinon in search of a job any time soon. Shall I send you Dr. Lamay's protégé? Before his untimely murder, he had been working with a young woman who has become quite knowledgeable in the ways of healing, but her services are underused. The folk here in Paris have not taken to a female physician. Her name is Placide. She may be known to Sylvie, as she works extensively among the refugees who can afford no other services.
Of course I remember the Glassons. Madame Morgause likely saved your worthless hide that night. I am forever indebted to them. You should unearth that shirt I know you tucked away somewhere safe and give it back to her. She would be thrilled that you kept it all these years and disgusted that you have not worn it to shreds. As for Monsieur Éloi, some folk, as we both know, are just not meant to be farmers. I am glad that he has at last found his true calling, especially as sounds as if it is of further benefit to you.
It also gladdens my heart to hear that at least one small bit of France is yet untouched by the devastation we have wrought upon our land. While I know the southern provinces are less mortally wounded, we have seen little but desolation and waste in the last four years. We are bringing order to the capitol again, but it's slow going hunting out the pockets of deserters and war mongers who've secreted themselves in their foul nests and practice their depredations though the long arm of their minions. There are many men such as those we encountered at the Douai monastery and in the forest near Epicéa, a disgrace to the uniform they once wore, easily bribed with ill gotten coin and unfazed by anything their masters demand. They are the bane of my existence. And - there are those, still, that carry a grudge for the demise of both Grimmaud and Marcheaux.
Daily we must fend off ridiculous attempts to slow the work on the garrison, or repair, again, that which we've already redone as there are constant malicious smalls bits of sabotage. I lost two cadets to unaccountable accidents before we realized what was going on. A roof we had just shored up the previous day collapsed of a sudden, burying four and killing two. A week later, I lost another to a sniper taking pot shots into the courtyard from the ruined roof. We caught that one; he awaits his execution in the chatelet.
We are still housed in the bowels of the Louvre, courtesy of the queen and Aramis insisting that we remain here until the garrison is fully completed. Your offer of supplies comes at an opportune moment as we had to halt all work more than a month ago due to a lack of materials. Not even Aramis has been able to conjure resources such as you offer. He opines that France will be denuded of its forestry before this war is over, a blank land devoid of flora and fauna by the end. The woods on his own family lands were sacrificed to the building of machines of war at the very beginning. He says Madame Catherine was replanting before the last tree fell and is nourishing the saplings with all her formidable might. But it is sad to think that lovely forest we rode through on the way to the hot springs is long gone.
All this is to say - anything you could send us would be put to use. And ... if t'would ease that ache of conscience as regards your abandonment, then it is all in a good cause.
There is one thing I must ask for further clarification on - this line 'then you are not there ... and my heart sinks a little.' Is this your subtle way of saying you miss me? I will not be so subtle but tell you from my heart that I miss you tremendously. It is a sore trial attempting to emulate your leadership skills, your deft hand with the men, your ability to navigate the politics of this job with the fineness of a nobleman.
Your leave-taking opened a huge hole in my heart that no amount of salving has closed over. I am bereft. The gift you left behind is my constant companion these days and I think of you every time I lift it from its peg in our quarters.
In closing, I will tell you that I have not yet mastered Aramis' trick of flipping the thing onto my head. Nine out of ten attempts I must foolishly retrieve it from the ground where I have dropped it. But I keep it close because if reminds of you.
One for all,
d'Artagnan
P.S. General du Vallon, via Elodie, sends his regards as well. Your finagling to have him made a general may have far reaching consequences. In case you have not heard, his new troops are single-handedly driving the Spanish back from our borders. If only he could be in ten places at once, this war would be over shortly.
The garrison captain set aside the abused quill with a sigh, clasped his hands and stretched his arms high over his head.
Their quarters were only next door, the scent of beeswax perfumed the air, along with the essence of patchouli with which his wife scented her bath. He'd seen the longing steal over her as she'd shared Sylvie's letter an hour ago, while he'd bathed quickly out of a basin and exchanged his filthy work clothes for acceptable palace attire.
The queen was wont to wander down here frequently to converse with his wife, often leaving the king in Constance's care while she graced whatever meeting Aramis convened with her presence. One did not attend her appearance in filthy clothing, d'Artagnan had learned to change quickly when he returned to the garrison's palace headquarters.
He rose, the backs of his knees shoving the chair away as he stretched aching shoulders again. He was becoming re-hardened to hauling timber and bundles of shingling, but there were days still when the long hours of backbreaking physical labor took its toll, just as there had been days on the farm when he'd fallen exhausted into bed at night.
The physical rebuilding of the garrison was taking longer than he'd expected, not only due to supply shortages, but time and monetary deficiencies as well. Constance's maimed soldiers were a great boon to the garrison, but their carpentry skills were often limited by their incapacities. And only a few were skilled enough at deceit and disguise to be capable of the intricacies of dealing with the rogues and spies that had fallen to d'Artagnan's charge to root out and annihilate. Much of his time was spent teaching his raw recruits the rudiments of tracking and capturing villains.
The captain shoved a hand through his hair as his gaze roamed over the scraps of paper and scrolled parchments littering the top of his desk. Duty called, though duties of such disparity his mind was torn with which call to obey.
He had promised Aramis those reports by morning. His lady wife had changed her mind on a certain topic; he'd watch her resolution wilt in the face of Sylvie's letter.
A grimace twisted his lips briefly, before resolve hardened the still youthful features. d'Artagnan rounded the desk, staying his stride only long enough to pinch out candles as he crossed the room.
The door latch between chambers clicked and he strode from cool darkness into light and warmth and heady scent, resolved.
Aramis' reports would have to wait.
TBC