Captain Tréville kept his fingers pressed hard against Athos' neck, watching in horror as Aramis began to fall. His breath caught in his throat as Steward Fontaine caught the medic, preventing him from hitting the bloodied floor.

Looking at the ghastly sight of the room, the captain swallowed the rising bile in his throat. Despite the scene around him, he determined he wouldn't give in to the nausea; the last thing anyone needed was another patient to tend to. Captain Tréville's men needed him to remain strong; they needed him to rise above this grisly situation.

Steeling himself against a possible gush of blood, Captain Tréville carefully removed his fingers from Athos' neck. "The bleeding appears to be ebbing," he informed the steward, breathing a sigh of relief. "I need a needle and thread to stitch this cut, where can I find some?"

Nurses Maria and Adele entered the room, frozen in place at the bloody sight before them. "Sweet Mary, what happened in here?" Maria asked, stunned. "The doctor told us to leave because he was going to bathe Athos. Dearest Lord, I should have known better." The nurse cried as Adele pulled her into a comforting hug. "I shouldn't have left Athos alone with that doctor!"

"Quiet! Pull yourself together, nurse," Steward Fontaine snapped. "Go find a needle and some thread so we can close the cut in this neck. Do it now!" the steward ordered, prompting Maria into action.

Athos' pale form was frighteningly still as Captain Tréville held a towel over the bleeding neck; the ghostly face of his Musketeer closely matched the color of the white towel, now stained with blotches of deep red.

The blue tinge to Athos' lips accentuated the pallor of his face; dark circles under his eyes gave him the appearance of a corpse. If not for the beating pulse underneath the captain's fingertips, he would have thought his Musketeer was dead.

The captain laced his fingers through the hand of his lieutenant, taking notice of the pale fingernails at the end of his cold fingers. Worried, he ran his hand over the chest and then down the left arm of his Musketeer, stopping on the bandage on his forearm. He shook his head then glanced anxiously at the nurse. "If not for the pulse still beating under my fingers, I wouldn't think Athos was still living; his skin is so pale and cold."

"His symptoms are normal for patients with extreme blood loss," Maria interjected. "I worked for a time as a nurse for wounded soldiers; I saw many patients who suffered from extreme blood loss," the nurse explained. "We must warm his body by covering him with blankets and replace the lost blood with a salt water solution injected into his veins."

"How do we do that, nurse?" Captain Tréville asked.

"If your two doctor friends are coming, perhaps they will have a medicinal syringe in their kits," Nurse Maria surmised. "We mix the exact measurement of water to salt and then inject it directly into his bloodstream. It works wonders… I've seen it performed, many times. But…"

"… but what, nurse?" the captain asked, apprehensively.

"Once he awakens, he needs to drink plenty of water, and we must monitor his urine output," the nurse stated. "If the output of urine is too low—if there is none at all—it is a good sign that he has kidney damage," Maria whispered. "If his kidneys are damaged due to the blood loss, I'm afraid there is nothing we can do for him."

"Dear God, this cannot be happening," the captain whispered to himself. "My men. . . that doctor was brought here to help my men," Captain Tréville's voice hitched. "Instead, he may have unwittingly killed one."

"Captain, what should we do for Aramis?" Steward Fontaine asked from the floor where he still knelt with the medic supported in his arms. "I can carry him to another room," the steward offered.

"Steward, this may sound like a rather strange request, but would it be possible to have a cot moved in here so the two men can be in the same room?" Tréville asked without looking away from Athos. "It would be easier on the doctors caring for the two of them together in one room; plus, Athos and Aramis would do better if they could keep an eye on each other."

"Of course, we have cots in the servant quarters," the steward replied. "I will have one brought up right away."

The nurse retrieved the sewing kit from Doctor Bonét's forgotten medical bag and began threading the needle so they could stitch Athos' neck. "Captain, I found a bottle of laudanum in the doctor's bag behind the valerian root. I think he used it to put Athos to sleep," the nurse shook her head. "I'm sure he used it on Porthos and d'Artagnan as well. Why, with all the screaming and commotion in the hallway earlier, neither man even stirred."

"Dammit," the captain growled. "Of all the times to be without my medic to help me and tell me what I should do."

"Captain," Maria stepped forward, "I will help you and assist you with anything you need. I'm sure the other ladies will as well," she spoke for the other women. "We are all trained nurses, sir."

"I will also help you—anything at all—all you have to do is ask," Steward Fontaine added. "I will see to it that each of your men get the help they need."

"Thank you, Maria," the captain nodded with relief. "Thank you as well, Steward." Captain Tréville stole another quick glance at the wound underneath the towel. "First matter at hand is sewing this incision closed. I can stitch Athos' neck; I've stitched my fair share of wounds during my career as a Musketeer."

Maria finished threading the needle while the captain gently cleaned up his lieutenant, washing away the grisly remnants of the doctor's treatment. Tréville then took the bottle of brandy to sanitize the needle then poured a copious amount over Athos' wound. He closed his eyes, took a deep cleansing breath, and then got started.

While Captain Tréville began sewing Athos' neck, Steward Fontaine carried Aramis and carefully laid him on the chaise. "Captain, I am going to get the cot for Aramis," he informed Tréville. "I'll also have the servants bring warm water so we can bathe the men and clean up this blood from the floor. Athos is going to need new bed sheets and blankets, and both men need fresh nightclothes. I will return shortly."

"Thank you, Steward," the captain replied without looking up from his sewing. "Maria, are there any clean bandages in the doctor's bag?"

"Yes, Captain," the nurse smiled as she handed him the bandages.

Captain Tréville let out a sigh as he finished stitching Athos' neck. He dabbed brandy over the new sutures then allowed them to dry before bandaging the wound. Once he was finished, he wiped the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his shirt. He sat back in his chair staring at Athos, his brow creased with worry.

Athos' ghostly pale, still form defied life; the only sign of life from the inert Musketeer was the slight rising and falling of his chest. The captain pulled the blanket to just under the fresh bandage on his neck then watched him with concern. He tenderly ran his hand through the lieutenant's hair, smoothing it from his face, as he spoke quietly to him.

"You need to fight this and get well," the captain whispered. "I know you have been through hell recently, but you have proved to me how strong you are. If ever there was someone who could rise above so many trials and setbacks—that someone is you. You are the strongest, most determined man I know; I know you can beat this, Athos."

"I have never admitted it verbally, but I think of you as a son, Athos." Captain Tréville hung his head and paused. "I don't know what I would do if I lost you. You have to get better, son." The captain cleared his throat as he wiped his eyes dry. "That is not a request; it is an order. The regiment needs you and I need my lieutenant—and your brothers need you."

The captain left Athos' side and went to sit with Aramis to give himself time to collect his emotions. He checked on the medic's breathing and was quite discouraged at the raspy, wheezing noises coming from his chest. "Aramis, you were supposed to be on leave and having a wonderful time with your lovely lady in Orléans," he sighed. "If only you had stayed there; you never would have been hurt."

Aramis was not sleeping but had heard his captain's lamenting. "Porth's. . . d'Artt. . . would be dead. . . had to help ssave," the medic slurred his reply.

"Shh, don't try to talk," the captain soothed. "Listen, we're going to clean you up, Aramis, and put fresh clothes on you. The steward is bringing up a bed so you can be close to Athos and keep an eye on him. I thought you would prefer to be in here rather than in a room by yourself."

The medic nodded, smiling at his captain's thoughtfulness.

At last, Steward Fontaine returned with a bundle of night clothes and braies in his arms; followed by several servants carrying buckets of water, clean towels, sheets and blankets, and a cot for Aramis.

The cot was supposed to be a temporary measure—at least until Athos was recovering sufficiently—but the captain knew his men well enough to conclude that Aramis would not leave this room until they were ready to leave the château.

~§~

"Perhaps I should bathe the men alone, nurse?" Captain Tréville suggested, seeing the other nurse and Steward Fontaine had momentarily left to tend to other duties.

"Nonsense, that is what got Athos into this predicament to begin with," replied Nurse Maria. "I am a nurse, Captain; there is nothing these men have that I haven't seen before," she replied without embarrassment. "Now, let's get started, shall we?"

"Yes, madame," the captain smiled. "It would be easiest then if we worked together, bathing them one at a time."

"Agreed, Captain," the nurse replied with a nod.

Nurse Maria assisted Captain Tréville in ridding the men of their bloody shirts and braies; together, they washed away the blood with warm cloths then dressed them in fresh clothing. The bloody blankets and sheets on Athos' bed were changed and replaced; the Musketeer was then tucked underneath the pile of blankets to warm his chilled body. Meanwhile, a group of unlucky servants began the gruesome task of washing away the pools of blood from the floor.

Once the work was finished, Captain Tréville and Steward Fontaine carried Aramis to his prepared cot. The captain pulled up the blankets and tucked his medic in with a pat to his shoulder. "Sleep well, son."

"It's almost daylight," the captain whispered to his medic. "I pray the doctors arrive soon so we can finally take care of you boys. Until then, try to get some sleep while I go check on your brothers and make sure they're alright."

"Keep. . . eye on. . . Athos," Aramis implored as he closed his eyes to sleep.

"You know I will." Captain Tréville patted his medic on the shoulder gently. He left Nurse Maria and Steward Fontaine in charge of keeping an eye on Athos and Aramis while he was absent.

~§~

Captain Tréville entered d'Artagnan's room to find his Musketeer writhing in pain, his face flushed and beaded with sweat. "What's wrong with him? he asked Nurse Adele as she removed the dressing from his shoulder.

"I believe he's fighting infection, Captain," Nurse Adele replied.

Captain Tréville winced as the nurse pulled away the bandage, revealing the red and swollen skin warm with infection. "Oh no…" the captain moaned with dread.

"His shoulder is definitely infected," the nurse confirmed. "I will have to drain it," she shook her head. "After I drain it, I'll cover it with a warm compress to encourage further draining until the doctors arrive."

"Is there anything we can do to prevent his shoulder from getting worse?" Tréville asked. "I don't want to go through another experience like we did with Athos—not if we can avoid it."

"Well, by treating the infection in the early stages, like it is now, we have a good chance of stopping the infection from spreading further. By draining the pus, we are ridding the wound of the infection and giving it room to heal. As long as we keep it clean, while using the herbs to pull the infection out, hopefully the infection will dissipate rather than spread."

"Nurse, you certainly sound like the voice of experience," the captain complimented, deeply impressed. "What can I do to help?"

"I don't think you'll want to watch me as I drain this wound," the nurse warned. "When I am done with draining, we will need to wash and sanitize the wound; we will then apply the herbal poultice, followed by clean bandages."

"Very well, Nurse," the captain nodded. "Let's get started."

The nurse cleaned and drained d'Artagnan's shoulder, wiping away all evidence of the pus before asking the captain over to help wash the wound and sanitize it with brandy. The duo allowed the wound to dry before applying the poultice and then the bandage.

By the time the duo was finished, their faces glistened with perspiration. "You're quite the assistant, Captain," Nurse Adele laughed as she wiped away the sweat. "Thank you so much for your help."

"It was my pleasure, Mademoiselle Adele." Captain Tréville wiped his face dry with a towel and gratefully accepted a glass of cool water. "My men have been through such incredible affliction and suffering these last few months," he sighed. "I just want them to recover; I want them to get back to doing what they each excel at."

"What is that, Captain?"

"Being a King's Musketeer."

The captain entered Porthos' room where Nurse Marta ran a cool cloth over the large Musketeer's forehead, wiping away the sweat from his face. She looked up from her work as the captain sat in the chair beside the bed.

"How's he doing?"

"He still hasn't woken from the laudanum, Captain," the nurse answered quietly. "I'm just trying to keep him comfortable while closely watching his chest wound. It sounds like his breathing is becoming more labored—I can hear him wheezing occasionally. I've listened to his left lung and I still hear breathing sounds, which is good; at least I know that his lung hasn't collapsed."

The captain huffed a breath of amazement at the nurse's prognosis. "We should have relied on you nurses to take care of my men rather than that so-called doctor; it certainly appears that each of you are far better qualified than he was."

"Thank you, Captain, you are very kind," Nurse Marta smiled. "A few of us have worked with Doctor Bonét before; we found him to be very arrogant and pompous —though I have no idea what for."

"He has caused terrible harm." The captain pinched the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes. "One of my best Musketeers may die for his want of accolade and reward from the king."

"I am very sorry for what has happened to your Musketeer, Captain. I can tell you that Maria feels terrible for leaving Athos alone with Doctor Bonét," the nurse spoke sadly. "If she had stayed in the room, the doctor would not have been so bold to experiment with bloodletting- especially considering that he's never done it before."

"It's not Maria's fault," the captain assured. "The only one who is at fault is Doctor Bonét. He knew what he was doing when he deliberately concealed his actions to avoid getting caught. I would hope he never practices medicine again!" Captain Tréville hardened his jaw as he took in a deep breath through his nose. "If my Musketeer dies, I will see to it that he is charged with murder."

"I understand, Captain," the nurse agreed. "You are absolutely right to seek punishment for Doctor Bonét. I will pray for your Musketeer and that God's mercy will shine down on him."

"Thank you, Nurse." Captain Tréville smiled as he noticed the bright morning sunshine streaming in through the large windows. As he gazed out the window, his heart filled with hope that this day would finally bring healing to his men. He silently prayed that the doctors would come soon as he heard the sweet and joyful sound of birds singing their welcome to the new day.

"The doctors should be arriving soon." Captain Tréville sprang to his feet. "I've got to check on Athos. Thank you, Nurse," he called out as he ran from the room.

The Captain of the Musketeers rushed into Athos' room to find his lieutenant still unmoving and deathly pale; the ghastly sight of his second-in-command caused his breath to hitch. "Nurse, how is he?"

"Not good, I'm afraid," Nurse Maria replied. "He hasn't woken since you left; he is cold, clammy to the touch and unresponsive. I am not skilled enough to know how much salt solution to give him, nor do I have the syringe, so we have no choice but to wait for the physicians. I am sorry, Captain."

Captain Tréville fell hopelessly into the chair and shook his head with despondence. He leaned forward, resting his head on Athos' chest, as he began praying in earnest for healing. The prayers soon turned to despairing cries; the captain's shoulders shook from the sobs and his desperate pleas for divine intervention.

After some time, the nurse believed the captain had fallen asleep when his prayers quieted and the weeping ceased. Maria left the captain alone to rest, not having the heart to interrupt the leader with his lieutenant.

Aramis stirred awake and glanced at the bed to discover Captain Tréville draped over Athos' unmoving form. Fearing the worst, Aramis sprang into action. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and tried to stand, only to gasp out suddenly in pain as he fell back onto the bed.

The medic writhed in agony as stabbing pain hammered through his chest; he felt as though his heart had been run through with a sword. As he tried to draw breath, he was wracked with wet coughs that sprayed his hand red with blood.

Nurse Maria yelled for for help as bloody foam bubbled from Aramis' mouth and the medic fell limp against the pillow, unconscious.

Captain Tréville awoke to a cacophony of panicked screaming in the room mixed with the excited voice of Steward Fontaine booming through the large château from the bottom of the stairs. The exhausted captain's senses were immediately overwhelmed as he sat up, stunned at the sight of his medic sprayed red with blood as the nurse screamed for his help.

Tréville's ears perked at the glorious announcement rising above the screams. "The carriage has arrived!" the steward announced. "Inform Captain Tréville at once that the doctors have arrived!"

A/N:

The history of nursing suggests that at one time, nursing was only conducted by nuns, other religious women or the military. An interesting fact is that many practicing nurses were developing their skills when offering care to those within the estate of their patron's, such as these "chamber maids." While staying at the estate, these nurses would often be required to perform the duties typically undertaken by apothecaries, physicians and surgeons so they actually became quite skilled in practicing medicine. I like to think that I patterned my nurses in the story after these real life heroines!

While nursing faced more tumultuous times during the years to come, nurses remained in demand more than ever and were often tasked with administering certain health care services to patients that might have been wary of the care provided by actual doctors.

Wars have had a great influence on nursing, as the demands of caring for sick and wounded increased the need for nurses. During the Crusades nurses were knights employed in battle. Such nurses returned from war trained in specialties such as anesthesia and psychiatric care.

Many early nurses had religious affiliations, such as the nuns who are honored with the wearing of traditional nursing caps. In the Middle Ages came the Plague, and so did the construction of hospitals and the founding of many nursing orders. During this period monks and nuns provided patient care in the hospital setting traditionally run by the deaconesses.

Florence Nightingale was a well-educated, upper-class British woman who balked social norms after she believed she was called by God to become a nurse. She championed more sanitary living and medical conditions and saw the death rates of soldiers during both war and peacetime drop dramatically. She has been credited with advancing nursing as a profession.

****
Many early 17th century blood transfusions were unsuccessful; however, alternate procedures for replacing lost blood were successful. As early as 1616, Sir William Harvey successfully injected medicines into the blood stream with a syringe. The syringe, made of brass, was used from 1601-1630. It was found that mixing a perfect measure of salt and water was an acceptable replacement for lost blood, injected directly into the blood stream. Today, The American Cancer Society still promotes saline solutions as a safe alternative to blood transfusions to those who might refuse such, due to religious beliefs or fear of disease.