Chapter Sixteen

They made better time, though the current still dragged like pulling anchors in their wake, but tempers mixed with a judicious bit of terror served to get the old battle rush charging through their systems and take the edge off the chill. They were climbing the tight, winding steps up to the Bärengraben in far less time than Athos had thought possible, though perhaps making the return trip with light and company had made it seem quicker.

He slammed a hand against the door at the top, stiff arming Porthos who was about to throw it open and barge straight through. "There was a bear in there at dawn. Caution would be wise."

There came no growling, snuffling or even snoring when he pressed his ear to the door. He opened it a crack, prepared to throw his weight against it if the bear appeared.

Nothing.

He'd cracked it a bit wider when a hand in his collar yanked him backwards and the door was thrown wide, reverberating as it cracked against the inner wall.

"Ain't in the mood for caution," Porthos snapped. "Work the blood up, it would, goin' a few rounds with'a bear. Too bad there ain't any." He turned in a circle, looking up.

The tower was dark, though not the pitch black of a windowless room, rather it was the dark of night. Athos and Aramis popped through the opening together.

"Which one's the way out?" Porthos demanded. "They're locked again. Gimme a pick."

Athos, who would normally have been quietly reading the larger Musketeer the riot act, reached into an inside pocket, drew out the pick and it handed it over without a word. "That one." He pointed. While he could open the door fairly quickly, Porthos - practically born to lock-picking - needed barely more than a second before they heard the snick.

The Court of Miracles raised Musketeer cracked his knuckles with a satisfied grunt and handed the tool back over his shoulder.

"Wait!" Athos hissed. "Before you open that, we need a plan."

"Too late." Porthos had his head out the door. "Someone's conveniently left us a rope and the bears are all over in the ... d'Artagnan!"

Five dark heads jerked up.

"Porthos?" Only one of them spoke.

Porthos, despite his size, could run like the wind. He was sprinting across the yard before the outside door splintered against the wall. Athos and Aramis, barely two steps behind, could only catch glimpses around Porthos

"STOP! WAIT! PORTHOS! WAIT!"

Porthos was in the middle of the pack, grabbing fistfuls of fur to toss aside snarling bears as though they were stuffed toys. He grabbed a shouting d'Artagnan around the waist, shoving the youth behind his bulk and threw up his fists, facing four growling, snapping bears.

d'Artagnan grabbed Porthos' arm and hung on. "STOP! LISTEN TO ME! THEY'RE TAME! DON'T HURT THEM!" The other hand was pressed to his chest where Porthos' snatch and grab had torn stitches. "Stop, stop! All of you stop!"

Athos plowed into Aramis who skidded into Porthos while trying to translate d'Artagnan's screeching and avoid a bear. The Inseparables went down in a heap of flailing limbs, d'Artagnan on the bottom.

"THEY'RE TAME!" The shrieking from the bottom of the pile finally registered. The writhing heap of Musketeers stilled.

"Get off me," d'Artagnan grunted, shoving at the suffocating weight grinding him into the dirt.

Porthos was first to roll off, pushing Aramis and Athos off himself as he staggered to his feet, glaring at the bears. All of four of whom had backed off and sat watching the spectacle as though the trio had been hired for their entertainment.

"They're tame," d'Artagnan huffed, rolling to his side, still holding his chest as he got his knees under him, then his feet, refusing Porthos' aid.

"You're bleeding."

"Because you ripped open the stitches, you oaf!" d'Artagnan stood swaying for a long, dizzy moment. "You're alive." As though it had only just registered, a bloody handprint smeared upwards across a cheek devoid of color as his knees buckled. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean... not oaf..." He ran out of steam so great was his relief, sagging boneless against Porthos' tall frame. Though it was only a moment before he pushed off, wiped his bloody hands on his shirt and threw his arms around the taller man. "You're safe! Thank God! Thank God!"

"But not with a very loud voice." Athos, still lying in the dirt where he'd rolled off Aramis, said distinctly.

Porthos was very careful to refrain from cracking ribs with his expansive hug, but his own relief was a great as d'Artagnan's and he could not help lifting the youth off his feet. d'Artagnan bore it without complaint, so grateful was he to be back among his friends.

The big Musketeer squeezed the youth once more and set him on his feet, attempting to dust off the dirt d'Artagnan had collected. "You're sure a sight for sore eyes! We thought you were dead!"

"I had no idea when I went to get Athos, if you two were dead or alive." d'Artagnan spun around to rush to Aramis. "Move Titania." He shoved at the bear sniffing the still sprawled Athos and wrapped his arms around Aramis, pounding him on the back, heedless of the tug and pull at his chest. "What happened to your face? Are you both all right? Who did this? Athos, where did you find them?"

Aramis, laughing, hugged the youth with as much enthusiasm as Porthos, then drew back to inspect d'Artagnan in equal measure.. "At least I'm not dripping blood. I think we should get you out of here before the bears decide they're not tame after all."

"Tame." Athos rubbed at the bear slime on his face with a filthy hand. "Between sunrise and sunfall they were tamed?" He sat up, propping his wrists on his spread knees as one of the bears snuffled a nose in his ear. He swatted it away, but it had apparently found something intriguing, it only grunted and used its weight to lean into him so he had either to get up or let the bear snuffle his ear. He got up and collected his hat, slapping it off to rid it of some of the dirt. "Is it still Tuesday?"

"Yes, it's still Tuesday and we have a capitulation. The council has agreed, in principal, to supply the French army with twelve regiments of armed soldiers, with a percentage of the final price to be paid up front, the remainder on mobilization. Berne can't field that many soldiers though, so they've sent messenger birds to the surrounding cantons to make up the numbers."

"Twelve!" Porthos exclaimed. "I thought we were only askin' for six?"

"Twelve?" Athos repeated, though his voice was beginning to sound ragged around the edges. "We were only asking for six; you got twelve?"

d'Artagnan shrugged. "The response from Paris stated cost was not a factor, that we should bargain for as many men as possible. I thought - maybe - if we went home with double the number we were asking for, we wouldn't be in so much trouble."

Athos clapped his hat on his head, reached to snag the puppy by the wrist and pulled him into a hug as well. "You did good; damn good, d'Artagnan." He had to clear his throat and what came out was scratchy at best. "How did you know the bears were tame?" He turned them both so they were following Aramis toward the rope hanging just about where he'd thrown it over ... oh, at least a decade ago. Had it truly only been this morning? He glanced over his shoulder at the bears, sitting placidly on their haunches, heads swiveled to watch their entertainment take leave. Porthos was petting one of them as though it was Monsieur le Chien back at the Rathaus.

"The Venner suggested a visit to the bear pit, so I took him up on it. René arranged it this afternoon."

"Perhaps there is some Gascon dialect I failed to employ when I told you to stay in the room." The chiding might have carried more weight had it not faded to a croak at the end.

d'Artagnan replied anyway. "You said you were leaving it to my discretion."

"I said," Athos imparted twitchily, though every third or fourth word dropped an octave, "that I would leave contacting the Venner to your discretion. René is from the Butcher's Guild. Suppose he had been behind this little plot and we came back here to find bits and pieces of you being fed to the bears?"

d'Artagnan pulled away, planting his feet as he turned to face Athos. "As it happens, it's not René, I'm not bear fodder and you have a way out and a short ride instead of a long walk back to the Rathaus."

Porthos smacked both of them upside the head as he passed between them. "Stop yer bickerin', both'a ya's. This is no way to conclude a successful rout of the plottin' parties. We won this one! Or this round at least. Aramis, hie yourself up that wall so we can be gettin' on with this escape."

"Excellent plan, Porthos. Not to mention standing around in a bear pit discussing this raises serious questions about our sanity. Tame or not, they're wild animals and the smell of blood and the rising tempers is agitating them. Thank you, d'Artagnan, for your forethought in being here to meet us." Aramis was halfway up already, moving hand over hand, using his feet for purchase against the wall. His cold, wet hands slipped as he reached the top and he slid halfway back down. Undeterred, he started up again and in short order he was on the inside ledge and then over the fence. He heard a whinny in the distance and leaned over the barrier. "You managed the horses by yourself?"

"Only two," d'Artagnan leaned his head back to respond. "We'll have to ride double."

"Not like we haven't done it before. Athos, what's the rest of the plan? Do we ride in rattling rapiers, or steal in stealthily?"

Athos had been considering this for much of the trip back through the aqueduct. "Stealthily for now. It could stack the deck in our favor." This last came out as little more than whisper.

"What?" Porthos was trying to send d'Artagnan up the rope next.

"He said it might stack the deck in our favor," d'Artagnan repeated.

"M'all for stackin' the deck."

"The two of you should go up, the bears won't object if I'm the last to leave."

Athos shook his head, indicating Porthos should go next as another coughing fit wracked him.

Porthos shrugged and started up the wall.

d'Artagnan, realizing his miscalculation, folded his arms over his chest and went on the defensive. "Fine thing it would have been if you'd gotten back and then couldn't get out of the damn pit. I couldn't leave the rope dangling here this morning when I went back to the Rathaus. So I had to be here when you got back, whether you'd found Aramis and Porthos or not."

Athos, who had been holding the bottom of the rope as Porthos went up, flicked the frayed end against his gloved hand, holding on to a sigh. "I will not belabor the point, but you need to learn the difference between taking dangerous chances and calculated risks."

"Coming out here was a calculated risk." d'Artagnan was trying hard to match his mentor's dispassionate tone, but he was not a puppy and did not intend to roll over. "We agreed neither of us suspected anyone on the council. Herr Joos mentioned the bears were tame and suggested I ask René to arrange a visit. I thought it would kill two birds with one stone: I'd get out of the room, where I was suffocating with worry," he muttered, "and I could make sure I was here when you came back. With rope."

"That bear this morning was not just out for his daily constitutional." The rope jerked in Athos hand though he didn't even glance up. He had said he would not belabor the point, and d'Artagnan's argument was reasonable.

"No, but we both saw what we expected; a wild bear charging prey. When in reality, she was just coming over to inspect you. Titania is mother to the three cubs, Peaseblossom, Cobweb and Mustardseed. You were a stranger, she just wanted to be sure you did not pose a danger to her children."

"Queen of the faeries."

This non-sequitur had the effect of jolting d'Artagnan from his single-minded defense. "What?"

"The bears are named after characters in a play by an English poet." The rawness of Athos' throat was increasing with every word his mouth shaped.

"All right." d'Artagnan waited a moment, in case the elder Musketeer had more to add. When he didn't, the Gascon continued, "Anyway, the first thing the keeper said was 'don't run'. A mother bear with cubs can be very aggressive when aggravated and running tends to aggravate Titania."

"How does the keeper get in?"

"Through the food storeroom. There's a staircase that comes up on the back side from an underground tunnel. The entrance is up the hill a ways. It's unlikely you would have noticed in the dark. But they keep it double locked, to discourage the bear baiting youth of Berne."

"Quicker to go out this way then." Athos wrapped both hands around the rope and started up the wall. He paused to glance back down at the shadowy figure dappled with starlight. "My apologies."

"For what?"

"Underestimating you - yet again."

"Athos-"

The lieutenant was already scrambling over the fence. "Hurry up," Athos called back down, "Porthos has collected the horses. We're just waiting for you."

d'Artagnan tried out a harassed Tréville harrumph. At the very least it kept him from groaning with each flex of his shoulders as he scaled the wall.

TBC 16/19