The next chapter won't be posted for a couple of weeks. I am going on vacation and don't expect to have time to write. Thanks for reading and to those who send reviews.
The Key to Salvation
Chapter Twelve
It was well after midnight by the time they found a suitable inn. Fortunately Le Havre was a city that never slept so it was possible to acquire rooms at any hour of the day or night. Athos wanted them off the street. He didn't think the Spanish would risk a pursuit but wasn't willing to take any chances. Aramis was wrapped in Porthos' cloak. It concealed his shackles from curious eyes and provided meagre comfort against the wind and rain. With the hood pulled up it wasn't possible to see his facial bruising. Neither was it possible to tell what he was thinking. Athos was growing concerned about Aramis' apparent lack of relief now that his ordeal was over.
Porthos took the horses to the stables while d'Artagnan secured rooms for them. Athos and Aramis waited under an overhang of the roof until d'Artagnan appeared and beckoned to them. Aramis climbed the stairs awkwardly, the short chain between his ankles hampering his movements.
"I got us two rooms," d'Artagnan said, unlocking the first one.
There were two beds, a table and chairs and a wash stand in the sparsely furnished space. D'Artagnan lit the candles before turning his attention to the fire.
Athos untangled Aramis from the cloak and draped a blanket over his shoulders. They couldn't remove his shirt and breeches without destroying them while he remained tethered so it was the best they could do to warm him up. He looked pale and exhausted and there was no life in his eyes. It was as if he had retreated from them even though he was physically still present.
"Sit by the fire." Athos positioned a chair close to the hearth.
All three of them were soaked through. Athos stripped off his doublet and shirt and used a towel to dry himself. All the while Aramis sat hunched over and unresponsive.
"I'll fetch wine and food," d'Artagnan offered after exchanging a worried look with his mentor.
He left the room and the silence stretched uncomfortably between the two men.
"Lemaire confessed to stealing the Queen's necklace. That means we can petition the King for the return of your commission."
"I am not worthy to be a Musketeer," Aramis whispered, the first words he had spoken since leaving the ship.
"You're exhausted and hurt. We can discuss it later."
"There is nothing to discuss."
Athos looked with concern at the downcast dark head. Something had changed and he didn't think it was just a reaction to Aramis' relatively brief captivity.
The door opened to admit Porthos. He was carrying a mallet. "Found it in the stables. Let's get rid of those chains."
It was the work of a few moments to remove the pins anchoring the shackles. Aramis gave a sigh of relief when he was freed, glancing only briefly at the chafed skin around his wrists.
"Where are you hurt?" Athos asked.
"I have some bruising and abrasions. Nothing to be concerned about." He was staring into the flames, his expression sombre.
"I thought this would be a cause for celebration," Porthos said, looking nonplussed by Aramis' lack of reaction to his freedom.
Aramis finally turned his head to look at his friend and gave a brief smile. "Believe me when I say I am very grateful that you found me. Forgive me. It has been a tiring few days." He stood up stiffly and removed his damp shirt, wrapping the blanket more securely around his chest.
"D'Artagnan should be here with the food shortly. You will eat and then sleep. We will talk in the morning," Athos said decisively.
Aramis simply shrugged and returned to his chair. He made no attempt to meet their gaze and seemed to be mired in some troubling memory.
When d'Artagnan returned he was accompanied by one of the serving girls. They carried bowls of stew, bread and wine. The girl curtsied awkwardly before placing a tray on the table.
"Thank you," d'Artagnan said, earning himself a winsome smile and a faint blush.
Porthos pressed one of the bowls into Aramis' hands. "Eat."
Aramis did his best but the bowl was still half full when he set it aside. He accepted a glass of wine and sat staring into it.
"We should give thanks for the weather," d'Artagnan said. "We wouldn't have found it so easy to get on the ship if it had been a clear night."
"There would have been no ship," Aramis said quietly. "It was delayed leaving harbour by the storm."
"Did they know you were a Musketeer?" Athos asked, encouraged by the fact that Aramis was finally talking to them.
"Yes. I was to be a present for their spymaster, Vargas." Aramis took a sip of his wine before setting the glass down on the floor by his feet. "It is unlikely I would have lived long enough to be consigned to one of their galleys."
"Why would the Baron Neuville sell you to the Spanish?" d'Artagnan asked.
Aramis looked away, a faint flush staining his pale cheeks. "It is a long story and one that would be better told once we have all rested."
"Good idea," Porthos said. "I'll stay here with you. Athos and d'Artagnan can take the other room."
"One of us should stay on watch. I doubt if the Spanish want to start an international incident by openly pursuing their escaped prisoners but it is as well to be cautious. I will take first watch." Athos collected one of the chairs and opened the door. "I will be in the hallway if you need me."
"Wake me in two hours," d'Artagnan said. "You need sleep as much as the rest of us."
After Athos and d'Artagnan had left Aramis finished undressing and climbed into the bed closest to the window. He was still feeling chilled although the heat from the fire and the food had alleviated the worst of it. He burrowed under the covers, pulling the blankets up over his shoulders. He was aware of Porthos moving around getting ready for bed. Then, the candles were blown out and he was left in darkness. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. He turned from his back onto his side and then onto his back again. No position was comfortable as every inch of his body was aching fiercely.
"You want to talk about it?" Porthos asked.
"Not really." Now that he was free his thoughts had turned again to his lost child. It was like an open wound that wouldn't heal. It was also intensely personal and he didn't know if he wanted to share it with his brothers. He knew they would offer comfort but what right had he to accept it? The child had lived and died because of his actions. He imagined what it would have been like to hold her in his arms. He had only held his son twice and each time he'd been struck by a fierce joy and an unfathomable love. If he'd known he could have acknowledged his daughter and, perhaps, prevented her death. She could have grown and flourished like a flower opening to the sun. Instead she lay in a cold grave with no-one to visit her. He squeezed his eyes shut to contain the tears that were threatening to flow.
"It's understandable that you're on edge."
Aramis suppressed a groan. Porthos had no way of knowing what he was feeling. "I guess I'm just overtired. It has been a trying few days."
"Why didn't you wait for us?"
He stared into the darkness in the direction of Porthos' bed. "I was impatient. Not, as it turns out, one of my better decisions."
"That's an understatement."
"How did you find me?"
"We leaned on Lemaire which led us to the Baron. He wasn't givin' anythin' away but one of his servants told us where you'd gone."
"It's fortunate that he did."
"Want to tell me what got the Baron so upset with you?"
Aramis swallowed, glad that Porthos couldn't see his face and that, in turn, he wouldn't have to look at the disappointment and disgust on the face of his best friend. How often had Porthos and Athos warned him that his romantic dalliances would end in disaster? He'd already caused Adele's death and put the Queen in terrible danger. In short, every relationship that had meant anything to him had ended in disaster. Uncomfortable though it was Porthos deserved the truth. "I made his wife pregnant."
Tbc