The Key to Salvation

Chapter Seventeen

Lunch was cold chicken and ham with vegetables. Aramis ate with more enjoyment than in previous days. His short bout of exercise had increased his appetite although it was still a long way from being normal.

"I think I would like to practice my shooting," he said.

Surprise gave way to pleasure on the faces of his friends. He realised with a shock that it was the first time he had taken the initiative since being freed. Apart, of course, from his disastrous decision to ride out to confront Lemaire on his own. He entered the armoury in search of a pistol as all his weapons had been taken from him by the Baron's men. He found Treville there before him, squinting in the dim light at a sheaf of papers.

"Good afternoon, Captain."

"Ah, Aramis. I was wondering if you could help me. Rochefort has asked for a full inventory of all our weapons. These are the lists prepared last time we took stock of our supplies." He waved the pages in Aramis' direction. "We're stretched thin as it is so it's hard to take someone off their regular duties to do it."

"You would like me to check the weapons against the lists?"

"It's not very exciting," Treville said apologetically. "But it would be very helpful."

Aramis felt a warm glow at the thought of being useful. "It would be my pleasure."

"Good." Treville thrust the papers into Aramis' hand. "You can start tomorrow."

Aramis folded the papers and put them away in his coat. With Athos and the others returning to duty it would be a welcome relief to have something to take his mind off the impending trial. He walked over to the rack of pistols and looked them over. He knew they would all be clean and well maintained but he missed his own weapon. He thought longingly of the beautiful workmanship and the perfect balance. He wondered if the Baron had claimed it as his own or if it had been tossed aside and forgotten. With a sigh he selected one of the pistols before fetching a weapons belt, powder and shot.

When he returned to the yard he found that his friends had set up targets for him. He turned and took twenty paces. There were other Musketeers going about their daily business. All greeted him with a smile although none, to his relief, stopped to watch. He turned back towards the target, drew his pistol and began to load it. The movements were so ingrained that he didn't have to think about what he was doing. Even so, he found that it took longer than he was used to. Once he was ready he took up position and held out his arm. As he lined up the shot he could feel his arm trembling. His first shot clipped the edge of the target. His mouth tightened with annoyance and he reloaded. The second shot was better although still a long way from the centre.

Athos walked over to join him. "You are holding yourself too stiffly."

Aramis acknowledged the admonition with a curt nod. "My muscles are weak. It's the only way to keep my arm steady."

"We will devise exercises to build up your muscle strength. Try again."

Aramis loaded the pistol, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. As he breathed out he squeezed the trigger. This time the shot landed in one of the outer rings."

"Better," Athos said.

Aramis lowered his arm. "As you see I would be a liability as a Musketeer."

"You're being too hard on yourself. It has been a long time since you held a pistol. Many of our new recruits could not do as well as you have just done."

"It's been a long time since I was a recruit." Surprisingly he felt no bitterness. He knew that he needed to recover the strength in his arm and shoulder before he could regain his former accuracy. He could feel something stirring within him for the first time since his conviction. He tipped his face up to the sun, feeling the light breeze stir his hair. It was good to be free.

TMTMTM

Aramis entered the armoury straight after breakfast. It felt invigorating to have a purpose. Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan were all on duty at the palace so this gave him a way to get through the day without battling with boredom. He lit the lantern and laid the lists out on the desk. Their stock of weapons was extensive and he reckoned it would take several days to complete the task. He started with the largest items, the long pikes that lined the walls. After counting them carefully twice he pulled over a clean sheet of parchment and wrote the number.

Next were the swords. Before taking the tally he selected one for his own use and slipped it into the scabbard. Perhaps, if they got back before it went dark, Athos would agree to another match. He immediately reined in his enthusiastic thoughts. This would only make it harder when he had to leave. He had already sent word to the Abbot at Douai requesting permission to enter the monastery. Somehow that didn't bring him the comfort it once had.

Serge brought him lunch, a tasty lamb stew with crusty bread. He devoured it, only stopping when he felt the telltale twinge in his stomach. Shortly afterwards Treville came in to check on him, uttering complimentary words as he perused the results of the morning's work. When his shoulders started to ache from bending over for so long Aramis took a break. He wandered outside, surprised to see that the sun was already well past its zenith.

He was starting to feel claustrophobic from having been cooped up inside all day and decided to go for a ride. He declined the assistance of the stable boy and struggled to saddle his horse. It was good exercise to lift the heavy saddle and secure the girth. When he left the garrison he had no particular destination in mind. He walked the animal through the crowded streets then let it move into a trot when he reached a less densely populated area. He rode down a tree lined avenue, finally recognising that his route had brought him to the Louvre. After bringing the horse to a halt he sat and looked out over the formal gardens.

His thoughts turned to the Queen and the Dauphin. It was a beautiful day. Perhaps they were in the gardens enjoying the spring sunshine. He ached to see Anne and his son even though he knew that it was impossible. How his daughter Clara would have enjoyed a day like this. His mood soured. She had never been given the chance to feel the sun and the rain, to look at the moon and stars, to experience the simple pleasure of picking a flower and hearing the birds sing. What right did he have to enjoy such things when they had been denied to her? He turned away and rode back to the garrison.

Tbc