Through Darker Days

Chapter One

Athos internally cursed his state of inebriation as he staggered along the narrow refuse filled alleyway, his footsteps ringing loudly on the rain slick cobbles. Damn Milady for finding her way into the King's bed, and damn his inability to cope with being in close proximity to his former wife. Every time he was on duty be saw her and it was slowly tearing him apart. Memories which had long been locked down were starting to resurface; the perfect summer they had spent together, Thomas' murder and the look on her face as the noose had been tightened around her neck. It had led to a return to solitary drinking. He knew his friends were worried about him and was grateful that they were giving him the space he needed to deal with the problem. As it turned out, though, he wished they were with him tonight.

He belatedly realised that he had taken a wrong turn. He stopped, his hand pressed against the nearest wall feeling the rough wood under his fingertips, and looked around. In the dark all the deserted streets looked the same, rows of houses leaning together like lovers to block out the light of the moon. His breath came in harsh gasps and he began to feel light-headed. How much had he drunk? His memory was hazy after the first two bottles of wine.

He started to walk again, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, quickening his pace when he heard heavy footsteps behind him. The streets of Paris after dark were a dangerous place and, as he had vital information that needed to reach Treville, he couldn't afford to be waylaid. The sounds faded and the stiffness in his shoulders relaxed. He came to an intersection where he stopped to get his bearings. Church bells chimed to his right. It was midnight which meant he had been drinking alone for more than five hours. No wonder he was feeling unsteady. He turned towards the sound knowing that it would lead him to a wider and safer thoroughfare.

Two men stepped out in front of him and he hesitated. Both were indistinct figures although he could tell that they were blocking the street. He turned back and found two more men behind him. He drew his sword and backed against a wall, switching his gaze between the two groups.

"What do you want?" he asked, enunciating each word carefully. He hoped that this was an opportunistic and random attack. That would mean they didn't know how handicapped he was by drink. Maybe they would think better of their choice of prey once they realised he was a Musketeer.

The two men nearest to him began to walk slowly forward. One was small and wiry, likely able to move quickly and as slippery as an eel. The other was tall and broad, a mass of muscle who would rely on his power to overwhelm his opponent. Both men carried thick wooden bats. Neither held a knife or a sword.

When they rushed him he lunged at the nearest target, his sword piercing the shoulder of the larger man. With a howl his opponent backed away. The second man swung his bat. Athos scrambled to the side, not quite quickly enough to avoid a blow to the ribs. He stifled a scream and kept moving.

The other men seemed content to block his escape which at least evened the odds somewhat. He was going to struggle to defeat two. Four would be overwhelming. The bat swung again, catching him on the shoulder. Ignoring the pain he drew his main gauche and attacked. He drove the small man backwards, slashing at his arms and body. A couple of shallow cuts had his opponent moving more warily. A blow to his back alerted him to the fact that his wounded adversary had rejoined the fray. It was a brutal blow which propelled him forward. He caught his balance before he slammed into a wall. He was tiring quickly, the alcohol dulling his senses.

He retreated, swinging his sword threateningly between the two men. They attacked together. Athos parried a blow from one of the bats, relieved that the force didn't shatter his sword. Seconds later he was screaming as the heavy wood slammed onto his right forearm. His fingers went numb and the sword fell from his hand. He could feel the bones move in his arm and knew without any doubt that it was broken. Panting with the pain and effort he slipped, lost his balance completely and fell heavily to one knee. He saw the bat swinging towards his head and then everything went black.

TMTMTM

It was close to one o'clock when Treville was awakened by Giles, one of the men on sentry duty. "What's wrong?" He rubbed his eyes which were burning with tiredness and then squinted up at the man.

"It's Athos. He's hurt." Giles lined face, illuminated by the lamp he was carrying, was filled with concern.

Treville was out of bed and pulling on his breeches within seconds. "Where is he?"

"The infirmary."

"What happened?" He grabbed his boots, sat on the edge of the bed and put them on.

"A couple of Red Guard found him. They heard sounds of fighting in an alley and went to investigate. The men responsible got away. When they recognised Athos they brought him here."

"What are his injuries?" His words were muffled by his shirt as he pulled it over his head.

"All I know is that he's unconscious."

"Fetch Aramis."

The veteran Musketeer nodded. "Yes, Sir."

Treville hurried to the infirmary. Athos lay motionless on one of the beds, blood congealing on his face. It was impossible to tell what other injuries he might have sustained. Aramis joined him moments later, falling to his knees beside the bed and reaching to lay two finger above the pulse point on Athos' neck. Treville held his breath.

"I need hot water and clean cloths."

That was evidence enough that Athos lived. Without a word Treville headed for the kitchen. It took time to boil the kettle of water. As it began to heat he went to the supply cupboard and grabbed a handful of cloths. He waited impatiently until he was satisfied that the water was hot enough without being scalding. By the time he returned to the infirmary Athos had been stripped of his weapons belt, doublet and shirt. He quickly poured some water into a pewter bowl and carried it over to the bed.

"Look." Aramis pointed to an area of bruising over Athos' torso. "His ribs are cracked but I can't tell how badly. And this." He carefully lifted Athos' right arm. "There is a break in the forearm. Fortunately the bone isn't displaced." After rolling up his sleeves he took the bowl and a cloth from Treville and began to clean a nasty gash in Athos' scalp. "I am most concerned by the fact he's still unconscious. I believe you should send for a physician. If he has a head injury, which seems likely, it is beyond my skills."

"I will get word to Doctor Lemay."

"What happened?" Aramis sounded bewildered. "Why would someone attack him?"

Treville shook his head. "All I know is that the assault was interrupted by the Red Guard. Without their intervention, or if he hadn't been found until morning, I believe he would have died."

The water had rapidly turned crimson as Aramis methodically worked his way from end to end of the cut.

"The bleeding is slowing. I need my suture kit."

"I will stay with him while you fetch it."

Treville sat on the bed next to Athos and looked down on the lax face. Athos was pale and completely unresponsive.

"We will need to bind his ribs and immobilise his arm too," Aramis continued. He dried his hands on a towel, leaving a smear of blood on the white material.

"He won't be happy about that when he wakes up."

Neither man would give voice to his fear that Athos wouldn't waken. It was an inconceivable thought.

"I will be right back."

Treville leaned forward and gripped Athos' left hand. The skin was cold so he pulled a blanket up over the ailing man's chest. The slight rise and fall reassured him that his lieutenant still clung to life. But, he had seen many head wounds during his years as a soldier and he knew their danger.

"Why would someone want you dead?" he murmured.

TMTMTM

Aramis paused outside Porthos' room. Should he wake his brothers? Didn't they have a right to know that their leader lay grievously injured? Finally he turned away. There was nothing they could do except worry. Let them get a good night's sleep because he had the feeling they would be holding vigil for a long time. When he entered the infirmary he was surprised to see Treville leaning forward gripping Athos' hand tightly. The Captain was clearly taking this hard, not that Aramis would have expected anything else. When Treville saw him he immediately moved aside.

"I will send one of the sentry's to locate Lemay."

"That would be wise. This can't wait until the morning. Can you also find two straight pieces of wood to use to splint his arm?"

Treville nodded and left immediately to make the arrangements.

Aramis laid down the small bottle of brandy he had brought with him before unrolling his suture kit. He carried the bowl with the blood stained water to the door and poured it away. Once it was filled with fresh water he washed his hands and dried them thoroughly.

"I don't wish you any pain, my friend, but I pray you react to this." He poured brandy over the head wound, watching carefully to see if the burning sensation might rouse Athos to consciousness. Although he held his breath in anticipation he was disappointed. There wasn't the slightest hint of movement. With a defeated sigh he threaded the needle and set to work. Athos continued to lie like a man near death.

"Word is on its way to the Palace," Treville said as he rejoined Aramis. He laid down two pieces of wood and went to the cupboard to find bandages.

Aramis tied off the last stitch and rested his hand on Athos' shoulder. "You aren't making this easy for us. How about you open those eyes?" Although he waited hopefully for a minute there was no reaction to his words. Disheartened, he turned his attention to Athos' arm, carefully feeling around the break to ensure that the bones hadn't shifted out of position. He laid one piece of wood on each side of the arm and held out his hand for the bandages. Once the splints were secured he sat back and flexed his shoulders which had stiffened as a result of his hunched posture. "We need to wrap his ribs and then there is nothing more we can do until Lemay gets here."

Treville moved behind Athos and raised him upright, being careful not to do further damage to the arm. Athos lay limply in his grasp, his head hanging forward and his hair obscuring the bruises on his face. His breathing remained shallow and uneven. Aramis wound the bandages around Athos' chest, tightly enough for support but not so tight that it would compromise his breathing.

"Do you know where Athos went tonight?" Treville asked, laying the injured man back onto the bed.

Aramis shook his head. "He has taken to drinking alone again. Seeing Milady installed as the King's mistress has shaken him. We hoped he would rally if we just gave it a little time. I can see now that we were foolish to let him go off without us."

"You had no way of knowing this would happen."

"We should have anticipated it. His tolerance for alcohol is remarkable but everyone has their breaking point. I can smell the wine on his breath. If he had been sober this never would have happened."

"We can't be sure about that. We don't know how many attacked him."

"Where did this happen?"

"I can't say for certain. Tomorrow I will send Porthos and d'Artagnan to speak to the Red Guards who found him. We will find out the truth of what happened."

"You don't think this was a random attack?" Aramis felt Athos forehead, which was reassuringly cool. He pulled up the blankets and tucked them loosely around his friend's body.

"It's possible but somehow I doubt it. No, there is something more at play here. I'm convinced of it."

"Then we must pray that Athos wakes soon so that we can ask him."

Tbc