CHAPTER NINE
Porthos was used to Athos's dry humour, and Aramis's open sense of fun, but he did not find this man's sarcasm at all amusing. After the third jibe about him being brawn over brains, Porthos had had enough, and called a halt to it. He needed to bring this man back in line.
"The buggers have been at large for three weeks. They will have scoped the terrain. Makes sense they will be ahead of us waitin' somewhere along the trail. Keep yer eyes open," he growled.
Porthos would need to teach Aubin some tracking basics; he had apparently only been in the Red Guard for six months and Porthos was beginning to realise he had a lot to learn. Maybe that's why he was chosen, because he was green. Richelieu was always looking to undermine the Musketeers.
But he grudgingly acknowledged that Aubin was enthusiastic and now that he appreciated Porthos did not like being baited, Aubin settled down and his true sense of humour came through.
Maybe he wasn't there just to annoy him. Perhaps he had tried to impress Porthos in the beginning and had misjudged him. Porthos was a big man; intimidating, and Aubin knew he loved nothing better than to brawl. Aubin himself was skinny, so he put up a defence of bravado, which Porthos had quickly seen through.
oOo
The Garrison
Athos had had enough.
He had little memory of the first week, and at the end of the second week the fever had returned.
This last few days had him frustrated beyond belief. He needed to be up. He had not seen Porthos in three days and was beginning to wonder what was going on. Aramis obviously knew something but was avoiding him now; Aramis was also very quiet and it went beyond what was happening around them.
Athos knew Henrietta Maria was still at the Palace. Finally, he had grabbed Aramis's wrist as he was in the midst of removing the stitches from his neck.
Aramis sighed,
"I know you don't mind your hide looking like the pathways of Paris, mon ami," he said, bent on his task, "but I do. I've already had to restitch this once."
"The scar should cover with a scarf, if it bothers you," he added, although he knew his brother had no such concern. He was merely attempting to distract him from his questions.
When his wrist was not released, he tentatively lifted his head and met a steady cold gaze.
"What is going on, Aramis?" Athos asked in a low, deadly voice. "Where is Porthos?"
Aramis tried to bluff his way out of an answer, by concentrating on the wound in his hip now, but Athos was taking no prisoners.
Finally Aramis finished his tasks and sat on the bed, running his hand through his hair.
"He is on a mission," he said, his face betraying his concern.
"What mission?"
"You will have to ask the Captain," Aramis tried, not meeting his eyes now.
"God Dammit, Aramis!" Athos shouted.
Aramis hushed him;
"Athos, take care, there are still sick men here."
Athos quieted, but his grip tightened.
"Tell me, or I will go and ask Treville myself."
Aramis knew he was not going to win and so he reluctantly told him that Treville had sent Porthos to scout the road ahead of Henrietta Maria's departure to Le Havre.
Athos frowned.
"On his own?" he asked.
"Yes, but he went willingly," Aramis replied, weakly.
"Of course he did! He wants revenge." Athos hissed, his voice an angry growl, understanding the emotion very well.
Raising himself up, he took hold of the sheet and made to get up. Lifting it up, he suddenly stopped;
"Aramis, I am naked. I need my clothes."
"You would not have thanked me for them a few nights ago when you were lost in delirium, my friend," Aramis smirked, standing his ground.
Ground that was becoming more unsteady as they glared at each other.
"Perhaps not," came the patient reply, "but now I need to stand."
No ground was being given.
"Very well," Aramis said, smiling, rather enjoying the sparring and making a grab for the sheet. Athos was too quick for him, and neatly foiled his brother's attempt at embarrassing him.
Athos sighed, and stood precariously, wrapping himself in the rescued linen sheet before stumbling to the end of the bed and holding firmly onto the bedpost. By propelling himself along from bed to bed, holding on to each post, he made it out of the door, looking for all the world like an imperious Roman Emperor, on his way to inspect his Centurions.
"Coming?" Athos yelled over his shoulder, his neck still too stiff to turn.
"Where are we going?" Aramis shouted after him, but followed him anyway.
"To find Porthos," came the reply, "he cannot speak English, and he is not a lucky man."
oOo
Aramis followed Athos out of the infirmary to his room in the Garrison quarters and waited while he dressed.
He was well aware there would be no persuading him to change his mind and he also knew to avoid offering any assistance, which would most definitely be firmly rebuffed. When Athos had finished dressing and was once more in his uniform, Aramis moved closer and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Alright, we will go, but you must listen to me. Your wounds are healing well but the blood loss makes you weak. So it is up to me to watch your back, brother."
Athos bristled, casting around for this sword belt, but then he saw the wisdom in Aramis's words, and reluctantly agreed, and gave a small nod of his head.
"I will get our horses ready, mon ami," Aramis said quietly, and left the room, heading for the stables.
Athos made his way to the small cemetery to pay his respects to his fallen brothers; buried whilst he was incapacitated. It was quiet within the tall walls surrounding the well kept plot. There were four new graves against the far wall. Two of the fallen had been returned to their homes for burial. Standing before the new graves, his eyes fell on Loubert's grave. He briefly closed his eyes, thinking of the promise the young man had shown, and seeing his eyes dimming as he clung to his hand beneath the coach. Turning, he slowly made his way back to the courtyard.
He had one more stop to make before joining Aramis in the stables.
oOo
After a difficult and lightheaded climb up the steps to Treville's office, he knocked twice and walked unbidden into the Captain's office. Stopping in front of his desk, he surreptitiously placed a hand on the desk to steady himself. If Treville noticed, he did not respond.
Nor did he look up.
Finally, Treville sat back, knowing exactly who was standing before him and the reason for the intrusion.
He looked up at his Lieutenant, who was breathing heavily in front of him.
"Athos, I had no choice."
"One man," Athos said in a low deadly voice. His visit to the new graves had cemented his anger.
Treville held his gaze, and Athos leant toward him across his desk.
"You send one man to trail a band of who-knows –how –many would-be assassins, determined to kill a Queen and bring down two Kings?!"
Athos was nothing if not astute, Treville thought.
"Two men," Treville said quietly.
Athos paused but did not take his deadly glare off his Captain's face.
He raised an eyebrow in enquiry, and Treville stood, meeting his stare.
"Two men. One Musketeer and one Red Guard."
Athos all but spluttered.
"Henrietta Maria has delayed her departure but is leaving in three days," Treville said. "Their party's main stop will be at the Forest du Brotonne Royal Hunting Lodge, before continuing to Le Havre. Richelieu and I will both accompany the Red Guard escort as far as the Lodge, where she will then become the sole protection of the Red Guard for the onward journey."
"And...?" Athos asked, wanting the whole picture.
"Porthos and one Red Guard will scout the route to the Lodge and in the surrounding area."
"I do not understand," Athos said, tightening his grip on the desk, his knuckles now white.
Treville caught the movement and sighed. He did not want to have this conversation. Certainly not with a man who should still be in the Infirmary.
"It is a Gentleman's Agreement, between Richelieu and myself. For the honour of both regiments," he eventually replied.
He knew it sounded ridiculous. Over the last week, he had even allowed himself a brief moment to consider whether Richelieu himself was behind the attack on the Musketeers; but even he would not endanger France with such a foolish endeavour. As Athos had rightly pointed out, a Queen and two Kings was not a price worth paying, by any standards.
"Richelieu would not give way," he continued. "Porthos was a witness to the ambush and he is our best man to track, trail and disengage any of the assassins along the route. He is better than any Red Guard; he will hold his own."
"God in Heaven," Athos said. "A Gentleman's Agreement. And this is a plan?"
"It is not ideal." Treville said quietly, as they faced each other still.
"What else?"
"That is all. A scouting party prior to arrival at the Lodge."
"It will not be a scouting party! We lost six men!" Athos said angrily, turning to leave.
"I KNOW!" Treville shouted, as Athos retreated, limping painfully to his door.
"I am going after Porthos," Athos said, his back to Treville; hand on the latch. "He does not speak English and he hates the Red Guard. It is unworkable," Athos hissed, aware he was losing his composure.
Treville called him back.
After a few moments, Athos half turned, his hand still on the latch.
"Porthos could be anywhere," Treville sighed, before relenting.
"You and Aramis take the second leg of the route; the road from the Lodge to Le Havre. By the time you get there, there will be fifteen Red Guard also on the road."
Athos looked at his Captain; still angry, but considering. Then he gave him a slight nod and pulled open the door, disappearing down the steps.
Treville reached behind him for the cognac, pouring himself a cup with a shaking hand.
It had worked. He had persuaded Athos not to go after Porthos.
Aramis and Athos would now scout the route from the Lodge west to Le Havre.
The Cardinal had persuaded the King that a low key presence to stop the assassins en-route was needed in order not to alert the English King that his wife was in danger, and spark an international incident.
Richelieu had scored a victory. The Red Guard now had a prominent role. Richelieu was one step closer to his regiment becoming the prime military protection for the Royal Family. His Musketeers needed to redeem themselves.
Louis's agreement with Richelieu's plan weighed heavily on Treville's shoulders. He could not afford the King to lose faith in him, or his men. He had offered his services on the escort, and his man to track the assassins. Now, as an added precaution, Athos and Aramis would scout the second leg of the journey.
Unbeknown to him however, his Lieutenant had no intention of obeying Treville, and every intention of going after Porthos.
To be continued ...