The Key to Salvation
Chapter Eleven
Le Havre was four hours ride away in perfect conditions. When the weather began to deteriorate shortly after nightfall Athos knew it was going to take them a great deal longer to reach the city. They rode in silence and, every so often, he caught a glimpse of Porthos' face which was tight with rage. He could only imagine how his friend was feeling at learning the news. Porthos' mother had been a freed slave who had ended her life in the squalor of the Court of Miracles. Anyone who traded in human lives was anathema to the big man. He had already been forced to face his past when they dealt with Emile Bonnaire. That had provoked an outburst that was entirely out of character. Normally Porthos kept a tight rein on his emotions but there was no doubt in Athos' mind that he'd have killed Bonnaire if they hadn't been there to haul him off the man. Now the issue had raised its ugly head again in the most personal way possible.
The thought of Aramis being subjected to the horrors of slavery was chilling. What was really worrying him, though, was the risk the Spanish would find out they had their hands on a Musketeer. Relations between France and Spain were poor and could easily come to war. The knowledge held by a Musketeer would be invaluable to the Spanish war effort. It was an unthinkable dilemma. On one hand Aramis faced life as a galley slave. On the other he would be subjected to the most brutal torture to try and persuade him to impart his secrets.
They were riding into the ever increasing wind which blew torrents of rain into their faces making the horses skittish. The roadway turned into a stream of mud, slowing them even further.
"I can't see any ships putting to sea in this weather." He had to shout to make himself heard.
The only response he received from Porthos was a grunt.
"Do we have a plan?" d'Artagnan asked.
"We get on the ship, find Aramis and get off again," Porthos said, making it sound like the simplest endeavour in the world.
"The weather and the darkness will aid us." Athos shivered as rain water trickled down his collar.
"And we kill anyone who gets in our way," Porthos continued fiercely.
"I would like to avoid provoking a full scale war." He ignored Porthos' belligerent look. When the time came Porthos would follow orders and Athos would really like to rescue their brother without any casualties if possible.
They were soaked through by the time they came within sight of Le Havre. The streets were empty, unsurprising given the dire weather conditions. They reached the harbour without incident, left their horses tied to a post, and walked slowly down the row of ships. The flags were flapping wildly in the wind and visibility was appalling. Eventually they established that only one Spanish vessel was at anchor.
They retreated into a doorway from where they had a view of the ship. It was hard to make anything out. There was bound to be at least one man on watch but where was he? It was d'Artagnan who caught a glimpse of a lantern to the left of the gangplank. He strained his eyes and eventually made out the shape of a man swathed in oilskins and crouching down under a small awning.
"There." He pointed out the unmoving figure.
"I see him." Porthos stepped forward only to be stopped by Athos' hand.
"Remember, disable, don't kill. I don't want word reaching his Majesty that we attacked a Spanish ship."
Porthos gave a sharp nod and disappeared into the darkness. Athos counted to a hundred before following with d'Artagnan close behind him. They ran up the rain slick gangplank to find Porthos bent over a prone figure.
"He won't wake up for a while," Porthos said with a fierce grin.
"Let's hope no-one comes to relieve him," Athos said. He looked around until he spotted a door. "Let's see if that leads to the hold. Be on your guard." He drew his sword and quickly traversed the deck. The door was unlocked although it creaked when he eased it open. He froze, waiting to see if there was any reaction to the noise.
They all congregated on the stairs. "D'Artagnan, stay by the door and keep watch," Athos ordered. He could tell by the smell that they were in the right place. The air reeked of sweat and despair among other even less savoury smells.
He walked down the stairs with Porthos at his back. There were only a few lanterns still lit which meant that the bulk of the hold was in darkness. He could feel eyes following him but no-one spoke.
"Split up." He took the right side of the hold while Porthos took the left.
"Help us!" the plea came whispering out of the shadows.
Athos said nothing, just walked along his path peering into the faces of the men he passed. One man was curled up on the floor fast asleep. Athos sheathed his sword, grabbed a lantern and hunkered down. His entire body flooded with joy when he recognized his brother. That joy quickly abated and he almost cursed when he saw the mess that had been made of Aramis' face. He put a hand on Aramis' shoulder and shook him gently. Aramis startled awake, flinching back, his eyes wide with fear.
"It's alright," he said. "It's Athos. We're here to rescue you." He raised his voice. "Porthos. He's over here."
Aramis pushed himself up so that he was sitting hunched forward and looking disbelievingly into Athos' eyes. "How? How did you find me?"
"That isn't important. Let's see these chains."
Porthos pushed past Athos to embrace his friend, letting go quickly when Aramis hissed with pain. He pulled out his lock picks and got to work on the chain tethering Aramis to the wall. It dropped away quickly and he turned his attention to the shackles. "We'll need a hammer to remove the pins," he said. "Can you walk?"
"Yes. Wait. You have to release the others." Aramis saw the look that passed between Athos and Porthos. "We can't leave them here."
"Alright, but we can't be responsible for their well-being."
While Athos helped Aramis to stand Porthos went around unlocking the chains. The men gathered in the centre of the hold, waiting silently for instructions.
"Someone's coming!" d'Artagnan called. He descended two steps so that the door wouldn't strike him when it was opened.
"Get out of sight," Athos ordered and everyone quickly moved back into the shadows.
When the door opened d'Artagnan grabbed the unsuspecting sailor's arm and propelled him down the stairs. Porthos, waiting at the bottom, delivered a blow to the man's jaw that sent him flying backwards. He crashed to the ground and lay still.
"It's time to go," Athos said. He led the way up the stairs and waited for d'Artagnan to signal the all clear. "Go. Get out of here."
The former prisoners filed past him with words of heartfelt thanks and shuffled down the gangplank, quickly disappearing into the night.
He put them out of his mind. "Are you ready?" he asked Aramis, who was leaning heavily on Porthos.
"I'll manage."
They stepped out onto the deck but, before they could leave the ship, two men appeared out of the gloom.
"What is going on?" one asked in Spanish, looking at them suspiciously.
Neither man wore a sword but both had long knifes pushed through their belts.
Athos stepped in front of Aramis to shield him. "Porthos, get him off the ship. D'Artagnan and I will handle this." He drew his sword and took up a fighting stance.
The sailor opposite him drew his knife and lunged. Athos parried the blow and then his foot slipped due to a combination of the lurching vessel and wet wood under his feet. He fell to one knee, jarring his entire body. He raised his sword, blocking a blow that would have pierced his throat. He was back on his feet in an instant, peripherally aware of d'Artagnan fighting his own opponent. The sailor slashed with the knife, catching Athos on the arm. It was only a shallow cut and, in the heat of battle, he felt no pain. He went on the offensive, driving the man back across the deck. His opponent was not unskilled but he had the advantage of the length of his blade. With a flick of his wrist he disarmed the sailor, reversed his sword and brought the hilt crashing down on the man's head.
He spun quickly, seeing no other foes. It appeared that their brief battle had been unobserved. There was no sign of Porthos or Aramis and d'Artagnan was standing over his own downed opponent.
"Let's get out of here," Athos said.
They ran down the gangplank and onto the quay. He looked around for their friends, finally spotting them standing in the entrance to an alley. They hurried over and he could see that Aramis was on the verge of collapse.
"We have to find someplace to take shelter." He could hear raised voices coming from the direction of the ship and urged his companions to move deeper into the shadows. "The sooner we're away from here the safer we'll be."
They slid into the darkness, moving steadily away from the harbour. Porthos had an arm around Aramis' waist and was practically hauling his friend along beside him. D'Artagnan guarded the rear while Athos led the way. It was only once they had traversed several streets that Athos began to relax and look for someplace where they could spend the night and tend to their injured brother.
Tbc