My profuse apologies - somehow yesterday, I missed posting Chapter 15 out here. And I only realized it because UK Guest asked me about it! It's in the doc manager - so now I'm wondering if I reposted Chapter 14 instead of 15. I was kind of out of it yesterday, so anything's possible. But thanks to UK Guest, it is up now. It makes the transition from finding Aramis and Porthos a little less abrupt.
Translations
eau du l'ours - scent of bear
Chapter Seventeen
"d'Artagnan, wait."
They had dismounted in the deep shadows of the alley alongside the Rathhaus, d'Artagnan already starting away with the horses, when Porthos called him back. Pulling the front of the youth's jacket closed, Porthos slip-knotted the leather ties and clapped him - gently - on the back. "Best not be showin' up in the stable all bloody-like, though I 'spose you could blame it on the bears."
"Oh." d'Artagnan, cross-eyed with weariness now that this terrible, no good, rotten day was finally coming to a close, was having trouble putting one foot in front of the other. The state of his clothing had not crossed his mind. He combed a hand through his hair, though that only disheveled it further, and nodded his thanks to Porthos. "I'll be up shortly."
"We'll wait here until yer in the back door."
"No need."
"Humor us," Aramis said softly, as Porthos, despite his size, blended into the nighttime shadows like a chameleon. "Just don't spend an hour chatting up the hostler."
"Not a chance, I'm starving." d'Artagnan urged the horses forward.
The cool night air carried the Gascon's voice back to them almost without diminishment. "Thanks for puttin' them up for me, Didier. His High and Mightiness went in the front again 'n left me with the job, as usual."
The hostler was an old man, they could hear him speaking, but the words were indecipherable.
"In't that the way it always is?" d'Artagnan's laugh was merry and bright. In the dark, Porthos grinned at the impersonation. "That boy's gonna go far."
"Of course he is, he's got good teachers." Aramis slumped back against the wall of the Rathaus.
"You okay?" Porthos asked, leaning back too, so they were shoulder to shoulder.
"I will be. Just the cessation of the battle rush, I'm suddenly and completely exhausted."
"Yeah, m'feelin' it too; 'spect we all are. Thought Athos was gonna cough up a lung before we finally got outta the water, 'n d'Artagnan looks like a stiff breeze could blow him over."
"He's in, let's go." Aramis pushed off the wall as d'Artagnan sauntered in through the back door.
Naturally, the Gascon's friends, Mademoiselle la Chatte and Monsieur le Chein, prowling around the servant's entrance through which d'Artagnan entered, immediately attached themselves to him, insisting on escorting him upstairs. He waited in the hall where the side door intersected with the main hall, kneeling to pet the animals who thoroughly sniffed every bit of him they could reach, the cat standing up to butt her head against his chin. He suspected it was the ursine smell attracting them, but they made for good cover since the entire staff knew the animals had taken to him. And that meant he was able to keep an eye out and motion Porthos and Aramis on their way as they came through the door. He gave the animals each a last pat, and with the coast clear, followed the Musketeers into their suite.
d'Artagnan was shoving the door closed behind himself when it shoved back, and it was not the animals, who'd snuck in beside him. He moved quickly out of the way, allowing Athos to enter behind him. The quartet stood staring at each other for a moment before releasing a collective pent up sigh of relief.
Athos flicked off his hat and sent it sailing across the room to land unerringly in the spot he'd been leaving it on the sideboard. d'Artagnan, who'd forgotten his new chapeau, immediately wanted to try it himself, though he was too tired to put forth the effort.
"Sanctuary," Aramis breathed softly, skirting the rug in the middle of the parlor, pulling off wet clothing as he did so.
Athos yanked the bell pull by the door as Porthos followed in Aramis' footsteps. "We've been telling everyone the two of you are sick, something you ate and it's being plaguing you for the last two days."
"If you don't stop talking, you're not going to have a voice left soon," Aramis advised, though he had no expectation his advice would be heeded.
"We need -"
"Baths and food," d'Artagnan supplied. "I'll take care of it. You're dripping on what appears to me to be a very expensive carpet, though you'd have more experience with that than I ever will."
Athos raised an eyebrow and with no hat to tip, he bowed slightly. "What did you tell Herr Joos about my absence? And what did the keeper have to say about finding the bear inside the tower where it didn't belong?"
"I pried shoes off both our horses, told him we'd been racing and that we'd been on our way to the blacksmith to have them re-shod when the fancier found us. So long as the fancier, the blacksmith and the bear keeper don't tell anyone I was alone, the story will hold up. If for some reason any of them are questioned ..." d'Artagnan didn't bother stating the obvious."Titania must have gotten out before the keeper arrived. He made no mention of anything untoward having happened today."
"As long as no one is suspicious, there should be no reason to ask questions.
The youthful jaw clenched, but d'Artagnan let it lie. "Are you all right?"
Athos gave him 'the look' and disappeared into their bed chamber.
The servants readily brought a tub and hot water, the largess of these guests being such that there was general bedlam in the service hall any time the bell from the visitor quarters rang now. Two large tureens of soup followed shortly, accompanied by fresh bread, cheese, boiled eggs and a bowl mounded with raspberries.
The cook even trotted up the stairs to deliver a just-out-of-the-oven cherry pie to personally accept their thanks and gratuities. He bowed his way out, his forehead practically scraping the floor, as he proclaimed over and over how glad he was that Herr Porthos and Herr Aramis were finally beginning to feel better.
The tub went into d'Artagnan and Athos' room again. Aramis was in and out quickly, Porthos used the same water, since beneath their filthy, muddy clothes, they'd already bathed in the Aare's icy tributary below the city.
"d'Artagnan, use Porthos' soap when you wash up. It got rid of the rotten turnip smell on him, it should be equal to the eau du l'ours you're wearing. Try to keep the remaining stitches dry though." Aramis was still toweling off as he took charge. "I'll tend to re-stitching you as soon as I'm dressed. Athos, in the tub. Porthos, pour some of the hot water into the small kettle and dump the rest in with him, then see if you can find the camphor in my bag. It only needs a few drops. Put in some of the dried valerian too."
Porthos, too, had apprenticed under Aramis the healer, long enough to know what herbs were useful for what maladies. He rummaged for the things Aramis had directed and added a few drops of the peppermint oil as well, then pulled out the mortar and pestle too, and set to work grinding bark of slippery elm. He mixed it with boiling water, added a twist of honey from the jar Aramis carried, poured in a tot of the medicinal brandy and delivered it to Athos.
"Still won't taste very good, but it might keep ya from losing your voice altogether."
"Don't slug it," Aramis warned. "It works better if you wait a bit between swallows, gives it more time to coat the throat."
Athos sipped dutifully, and without complaint, especially as it instantly soothed the painful burning desire to cough non-stop.
d'Artagnan, bathed and in the last of his clean clothes, allowed Aramis to poke and prod at the wound, though he was very grateful when the healer quit, pronouncing it free of infection and healing well. "Nice embroidery, Athos." Aramis could 'see' Athos' grimace behind his back; he was well aware of the comte's reluctance to engage in anything requiring needlework unless it involved parts of a saddle. "Porthos, some of that medicinal brandy might come in handy with this one too, before I start sewing again. It's just a few," he assured the youth. "Not much damage done."
d'Artagnan only blinked in the candlelight. He could hardly keep his eyes open so tired was he, but he was hungry too and wanted this over and done with so he could fill his stomach and fall into bed for the first good night's sleep in days.
"Sorry 'bout the whole thing in the bear pit," Porthos offered guiltily as he brought over the brandy. "It sure looked like them bears were mauling ya as we come outta the tower. Didn't mean'ta hurt ya m'self."
"I know. It was part of the reason I went back. I didn't want the bears to get hurt either, if one of them took exception again like Titania did this morning."
"This morning?" Aramis asked as he ran his needle through the nearest candle flame, threading it competently. "What happened?"
d'Artagnan, happy to be at some remove from the steady draw and pull of the needle, however slight, regaled his audience with a harrowing narration of the morning's encounter with the bears. His description of holding his breath as Athos whipped through the tower door with Titania practically shoving him through, and his enormous relief when the bear stuck in the opening, had Porthos guffawing.
"You've a gift for storytelling, youngling," Porthos laughed, wiping away tears of merriment.
"All I could see was the bear's arse, and then she popped through," d'Artagnan continued mildly. "I thought Athos was bear meat for sure. I heard a door slam and the bear roar and then nothing for the longest time. I was trying to decide if I should go see what was happening when I finally heard Athos' signal. Let me tell you, I was gulping air like a landed fish when I was finally able to breathe again."
"You made it so as I could see it as if I was there!" Porthos exclaimed, still chortling as he tidied up after Aramis, gathering up the used bandaging, handing over the salve along with a new roll of cotton lint.
Aramis, grinning as well, blotted the fresh blood with the tail end of the roll and tore it off. "Done," he said, moving so d'Artagnan could sit up. "Keep this dry," the healer directed, wrapping a wide swath around the lean torso, "and stay out of the bear pit." This provoked a chuckle as he'd intended. "In a couple of days, you should be good as new again." He tied the ends neatly, tucked them in and ruffled d'Artagnan's hair.
"Athos?" Aramis handed d'Artagnan the shirt he'd made him take off and rose to check on his other patient. "You cooked enough?"
"We should have asked them to send up a raw steak for that eye," Athos observed as he rose from the tub.
"No use. Two nights ago it might have helped, but not likely now. I've got some salve I'll put on it before I go to bed. It's not as bad as it looks."
"Mmmhmmm," Athos agreed politely, taking the towel Aramis thrust into his hands. "Go eat, all of you, I'll join you shortly." If he could conjure the necessary will to shuffle his feet further than the bed. Or any kind of pleasure at the thought of trying to swallow anything solid.
Neither d'Artagnan nor Porthos had to be told twice. They headed immediately for the parlor and the waiting repast.
"The soup will go down easily at least, and Porthos, in his foresight, ground up enough of the elm bark to make up several more doses. I have some other things that will quiet a cough as well, so if the elm doesn't work, don't be a bloody martyr and go slinking off to cough beyond my hearing."
Both eyebrows went up. "When have I ever-"
"You haven't," Aramis interrupted, "but only because you haven't been sick like this since I've known you. Let me just remind you of what you already know: You will regret it if you make me chase you down." He headed for the parlor, too, having had the last word.
Athos waited until the door closed behind the healer. "Devil's spawn."
"I heard that!"
17/10