Hi. Slightly later update as thesis writing is gettin in the way. Anne and Treville are getting used to there capture in this chapter.
Hope you enjoy it. :)
Chapter Eighteen
Anne wasn't sure how far they travelled or for how long but she was still surprised when the carriage came to a sudden stop. Her mind had been flitting between her son, Louis, the death of the musketeers who protected her, the man in front of her bleeding on the seat, Tréville taking shallow rasping breaths next to her, and Aramis and his friends. She wished this was a nightmare but she knew it wasn't. She tried to remain calm as she realised they had arrived at their destination.
'Who are you?' she asked the man who sat across from her as he gingerly lowered his bloody foot from the seat.
'I'm the man holding you for ransom,' he said simply. Anne glared at him and Renard felt a twinge of fear from her icy gaze. 'You meant to ask my name? Well my name is Renard.' He turned to the carriage door that had been opened by Simon and hobbled down the steps.
Tréville was rather surprised that the man would give his name so willingly. He was either a fool or he believed he would never be caught. Judging by the success of the ambush, Tréville thought the latter and that worried him even more. He stepped out of the carriage awkwardly as his tied hands and broken ribs made it difficult to catch his balance. He looked around and saw the shack ahead of him on the hill. He was curious as it didn't look like a stronghold but he also knew that looks could be deceiving.
Anne struggled to get out of the carriage with her hands tied. She just about managed to lift the skirt of her dress so she wouldn't trip but that also made her balance shift. Simon saw this and took hold of her arm gently to stabilise her and Anne was grateful for his help, not that she willing to say it. Once on the ground she gulped slightly at the house, no more of a shack, before her. It looked so run down and she presumed that was their destination.
Renard had limped over to Simon's horse and with the help of Boucher mounted it. He led the animal up the path to the shack and Anne's suspicions were confirmed. Simon started to lead her up the hill and again she was struggling to keep her balance by lifting her skirt so as not to trip. Simon again gently took her arm to help her.
'Thank you,' she said politely when they had reached the door to the shack as her manners took over. He smiled and nodded back and looked nothing like the man who had killed Sarah. But he had killed Sarah in cold blood she reminded herself.
The door was opened and she was ushered in but she heard an exclamation of pain behind her as Tréville forced his elbows into Simon's stomach making the man bend over in pain before being overpowered himself by two other men.
'That was not clever, captain,' Renard sneered as he approached them. Tréville stood as tall as he could as Renard sent another punch into his stomach making the captain gasp and groan. Anne was moved roughly towards an open door that she could see could be bolted from the outside. She was forced into the room and could see two moth-eaten mattresses before her and Tréville was thrown in behind her. He stumbled on the mattress but managed to regain his balance.
Renard took out a dagger and held it in front of Anne, 'You Majesty,' he said and Anne realised he wanted to cut the rope on her wrists. She carefully held out her hands as she spied the man over Renard's shoulder holding a pistol. Renard cut the rope gently and Anne could now see the raw skin beneath. She had tried to loosen the rope to no avail and now could see the deep welts caused by her actions. There was dried blood on her skin where the rope had caused friction burns and Rernard looked in surprise at her hands. Renard turned away from Anne and she momentarily thought about finding something to hit him with but realised there was nothing in the room she could use and there was still the man holding the pistol.
'Now are you going to behave?' Renard asked Tréville in a simpering voice. Tréville watched the man in front of him carefully before quickly looking at Anne who was wearing a pleading expression and nodded not trusting himself to say anything. Renard cut the older man's hands free and could see the same friction burns as Tréville too had tried to release the ropes. Renard and the man holding the pistol left the room leaving Anne and Tréville alone and they heard the door lock.
'Are you hurt Your Majesty?' Tréville asked as soon as they were alone.
'Just my wrists,' she replied. 'And I suppose I'm a bit shaken.' Before she realised what was happening Anne felt herself sway and Tréville caught her before lowering her to sit on one of the mattresses.
'We will get out of here,' he said trying to reassure her. 'Once Joubert returns the whole of the musketeer garrison will be sent to rescue you.' She looked in Tréville's eyes and could see the comfort he was trying to give but she could also see the anger welling up inside of him as well as the pain from his beating. Tréville coughed and winced in pain at his damaged ribs which were surely going to hurt for a long time.
'You are hurt,' stated Anne. 'What's wrong?'
'Just my ribs. Nothing can be done,' he stated matter-of-factly as he sat on the second mattress. Tréville couldn't help but smirk at his pain and what was likely to come.
'What?' Anne asked curiously.
'When we get out of here, and we will get out of here, Aramis is going to have a lot of fun poking and prodding me,' he said with an amused smirk on his face.
'Aramis?'
'Yeah. He's basically taken the role of medic in the field and even takes the role when we have a perfectly good physician we can call upon. He will insist on checking me himself and Athos and the others will just give me a look that says 'Let him do it' and I will resign myself to his prodding,' Tréville said shaking his head in amusement.
Anne couldn't stifle her laugh, 'Surely you could order him not to?'
'Tried that many times before. Failed every time,' he smiled back at her as his wheezing became more pronounced.
They remained in silence for a while before Anne spoke, 'Perhaps it was good thing that Louis wasn't travelling today,' she said bitterly. 'Still I can't forgive him for neglecting his duty.'
'Forgive me for saying this, but he should have been here today. Perhaps now, we see it may have been a blessing in disguise that our king remains in the Louvre but he still neglected his duty. That does anger me,' Tréville replied earnestly. Anne smiled back weakly. She had never been happy about this trip and now she really wished she had never gone at all.
The musketeers had stopped at a town for lunch but Aramis could barely eat as he felt his worry growing and he was stirring his soup absent-mindedly with his spoon. The others watched their brother closely and worried for him even more.
'I bet ya a bottle of wine that when we get back to the garrison everythin' is fine an' you were worryin' about nothin',' Porthos said trying to lift the marksman's spirts.
'I only hope you're right Porthos,' Aramis replied quietly as he tried to eat some soup tentatively.
'Still best to get back and find out,' Athos said honestly. He knew that they had all had feelings of danger before and most of the time they had been right. Athos too was starting to feel a sense of worry but so far he had dismissed it as worry for Aramis but now he wasn't so sure.
'Aramis. Maybe you're just tired-,' D'Artagnan tried to ease Aramis' fears but only succeeded in annoying the marksman.
'So you think I'm making it up? Is that it?' Aramis roared in anger and stood up immediately forgetting his food.
'No. I never-'
'Fine. I'll go by myself,' he stormed towards the tavern door. Porthos and Athos exchanged looks and Porthos went after Aramis while Athos indicated that D'Artagnan should sit.
'I didn't mean-,' D'Artagnan ran his fingers through his hair.
'It's all right,' Athos said in a calm voice. 'He is truly worried and can explode without real reason. It's not your fault and he'll forget it quickly,' Athos stood, 'Let's go. Otherwise he will leave without us.' D'Artagnan stood and Athos placed a tip on the table before leaving to find Aramis and Porthos.
The room in the shack was starting to darken as the sun started to set and Simon entered carrying a tray of food and two flasks of water. Anne, who had let her hair loose, and Tréville didn't move from their places on the mattresses and Simon left without a word. Anne eyed the food suspiciously but Tréville smiled.
'If they wanted to kill you, they would have done it already,' he picked up a bread roll and began to eat. Anne soon followed suit as she realised how hungry she was having not eaten lunch and not eaten a lot for breakfast. They ate in silence until they had finished all the food on the tray and quenched their thirst from the flasks.
'When will Athos and the others be back?' she finally had found the courage to ask the question that she already knew the answer to but hoped she was wrong.
Tréville sighed, 'They won't be back until tomorrow. So it is unlikely that they will be part of the rescue effort.' He could see the disappointment in Anne's eyes and decided to probe further, 'You feel comfortable around them, don't you?' Anne startled at the question and Tréville thought she may rebuke him but she didn't.
'Ever since Aramis protected me at the Bastille and then all of them together against the assassin and then their insistence on exposing the Richelieu, I have felt a warmth from them,' she admitted. 'I feel safe with them.' She looked towards Tréville and could see understanding in his eyes. 'I never really took any notice of those that protected me,' she continued, 'I suppose I took them for granted. It was only when I truly needed them that I began to notice.'
'We are just there for your protection. We are not meant to be noticed,' Tréville reassured her.
'Still….I've come to rely on those four,' Anne said with slight embarrassment.
'You're not the only one,' Tréville admitted to Anne's surprise. 'They are the best of the regiment but sometimes I do wish I could strangle them,' he said smiling broadly.
'Why?' Anne asked with astonishment in her voice.
'They attract more trouble than the rest of the garrison put together! Where there's trouble you usually find them,' Tréville laughed but winced quickly as the action hurt his ribs.
'They are your favourites?' Anne looked knowingly towards the man and he knew he couldn't deny it.
'Yes. I suppose they are. I shouldn't have favourites,' he sighed despondently.
'You are only human. Some people we like, others we dislike intensely but we don't have a reason why. It's only natural,' she said honestly.
'They happen to be the best and maybe I give them more freedom than others,' he admitted.
'Tell me about them. Please.'
Joubert was still upright on his horse but he wasn't sure how. His horse, Toffee, was steering him towards Paris and Joubert could see the city in silhouette as he started to approach. He allowed Toffee to guide him as the horse knew the way back to the garrison and it allowed Joubert to conserve the strength that he had left. He had thought about going directly to the palace but he knew that if he was unconscious he couldn't rely on those there to find the letter he had stashed under Toffee's saddle. They were bound to find it at the garrison.
He let out a groan as he jolted in the saddle and his shoulder burned with fire. The shot had passed through his shoulder which meant that the ball was not imbedded in his body but he had lost a lot of blood as a result of an entry and an exit wound but both wounds were starting to itch which was a sure sign of infection. He felt himself starting to sway and was thankful for the bindings that tied him to his horse. Just a bit further.
'Tell me about them. Please,' Anne asked with true interest. Tréville thought for a moment but Anne spoke again, 'Nothing they wouldn't want me to know of course. How about, how they all became musketeers?' she smiled.
'Alright,' Tréville agreed, they didn't have anything else to talk about. 'As you know Louis founded the Musketeer regiment in 1622 and I was the first captain. I was allowed to pick the very best from all of the existing regiments,' Anne could clearly hear the pride in Tréville's voice. 'I picked many distinguished soldiers but I soon realised that I needed some youth as well. So I set about finding younger men to serve and train as part of the regiment. Those that I thought could be honed into exceptional soldiers.' Tréville winced as he moved himself so that he was leaning against the wall and felt the reassuring presence of the wall at his back.
'As I was searching,' he continued while Anne listened with rapt attention, 'I came across a rather skinny young man who was boasting about how he could fire one of the new muskets from 50 feet and hit his target most of the time,' he smiled as he remembered the moment.
'A shot from 50 feet is pretty difficult. Most men struggle to hit accurately from that distance,' Tréville explained. 'My first thought was that this was a very arrogant young man who would soon meet his match. I watched as the targets were set up and the man started to shoot. I had never seen someone shoot and reload a musket so quickly. Not only that, he hit four out of the five targets dead centre and the one he didn't it was only slightly offline. He was an amazing marksman and I'm sure you have guessed that his name was Aramis,' he finished with a smile. Anne smiled back as she heard about the young man who had gone on to be her saviour and her lover.
'Just goes to show that first impressions aren't everything and I use the incident with Aramis to remember that,' Tréville said honestly. 'But what impressed me the most was his willingness to help the other men. They asked him for help and he checked everything to the last detail, including stance, how the weapon was held and even how the trigger was pulled. Within a few minutes he had helped the other men's' accuracy and their shots were far better than before.'
'Certainly sounds like the Aramis I know,' Anne said lightly.
'Indeed, he was the youngest originally commissioned. You wouldn't know it now but we finally got some muscle onto his scrawny body and his sword and combat skills greatly improved.'
'I find it hard to believe that Aramis was ever scrawny!' Anne laughed, momentarily forgetting where she was and why they were having this conversation.
'He really was! He also had a friend called Marsac who was never quite as likeable. They were very close,' Tréville's expression suddenly darkened making Anne feel slightly uncomfortable. He noticed the change in her demeanour as he realised his expression had changed.
'Then three years later came one of the darkest days in the regiment's history….Savoy,' he sighed deeply.