Through Darker Days
Chapter Four
Heavy weights pinned his limbs to the mattress. At least, that was what it felt like as his muscles refused to respond to his wishes. He felt weak and shaky. It was the kind of unpleasant sensation that accompanied a long and debilitating illness. Even with his eyes closed he was experiencing a sense of vertigo, as if the world was revolving too quickly around him. It was disconcerting and he would have given anything for it to stop. Pain radiated from his head, chest and right arm, diminished by the pain draught but not defeated. He could hear his brothers talking in whispers close to his bedside although he couldn't understand the words. It was comforting to know they were near him.
Every attempt to remember what had happened to him was met with a spike in pain in his head. Aramis said he had been attacked. Clearly he must have been outnumbered or perhaps ambushed. What he did know was he was lucky to be alive. Any severe blow to the head risked death. What had been the motive? He couldn't think of anyone with such severe animosity towards him. Had it been a random attack? Perhaps a robbery gone wrong. He pursed his lips in frustration. There was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that there was something important he should remember.
He worried about the gaps in his memory. How could he have forgotten that Milady was the King's mistress? It still seemed inconceivable to him that the King would have taken up with such a creature but he had no reason to disbelieve Aramis. His friend wouldn't lie about something that important. He tried to picture her and the King together. It was obvious what had attracted her to him. Louis was the ultimate power in the country. It was less obvious what had attracted him. To Athos' knowledge this would be the first time the King had taken a mistress and he had certainly chosen a wholly unsuitable partner. Louis would be mortified if he learnt the truth of her past, particularly of her involvement with Richelieu as his spy and assassin. He worried about the Queen living in close proximity to the witch. Milady had been neck deep in the plot to kill Her Majesty and it was unlikely that she had foresworn her previous murderous nature.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and pried open his eyes. Aramis' concerned face filled his vision. The vertigo increased and his stomach lurched.
"Are you going to be sick again?" Aramis asked.
"Not if I can help it."
A cool cloth touched his forehead, wiping away the sweat that seemed to accompany any attempt to move or talk. He turned his head slowly, grimacing at the pain and frustrated by the effort needed to accomplish such a small action.
"Dr. Lemay is here to see you," Aramis said before moving away from the bed.
"It is good to see you awake." Lemay stepped closer. "I want you to follow my finger." He held up his right index finger and slowly moved it to right and left.
Athos' tired eyes tracked the movement sluggishly.
"I'm going to ask you some questions," Lemay said. "What is your name?"
Athos looked at him as if he was an idiot although he suspected his glare lacked its usual strength. "Athos."
"Good. Now, what year is it?"
"1631."
"Do you know where you are?"
"The infirmary at the Musketeer garrison."
"Excellent. Do you remember what happened to you?"
Athos closed his eyes. "No."
"He has lost two days' worth of memories," Aramis said. "And…"
Athos could hear the hesitation in his friend's voice and knew what he was about to say. "It appears I have also forgotten that the King has a mistress."
"That's unexpected. Why, in particular, would your mind choose to forget that?"
There was a strained silence. Athos knew that none of them would betray his secret to an outsider but he also knew that it could be symptomatic of a more deep-seated injury. At this point he had no way of knowing what else he might have forgotten.
"It is vital that the information I am about to give does not leave here," he said. The virulence of his headache increased as his anxiety grew.
"I would never betray a patient's confidence," Lemay said.
He swallowed to clear his throat. "Milady de Winter was once my wife. She murdered my brother."
"Dear God. You must tell the King. His life could be in danger."
"Not likely," Porthos said. "He's her route to power and money. She'll not harm him."
"If she is a murderer why is she still alive? Surely she should have been handed to the authorities for judgment."
"I was the authority and I rendered judgment but she evaded punishment."
"You were a nobleman?" There was no mistaking the surprise in Lemay's voice.
"We're are getting off the point," Aramis said. "Could this explain why Athos forgot?"
"Certainly. It is obviously traumatic for him to see Milady with the King. However, it could also mean there are other gaps in his memory. Only time will tell."
"Thank you, Doctor." Athos lay bonelessly on the bed, exhaustion nibbling at the edges of consciousness.
"I will check on you again tomorrow. In the meantime you are to stay in bed." Lemay turned to Aramis. "You have something to help with the pain?"
"Yes."
"He is to drink it every four hours. He can be allowed to sleep but you must wake him every two hours and ensure that he is coherent. Head injuries are tricky things. If his condition changes for the worse send for me immediately."
The sound of conversation gradually faded away until nothing was left and Athos slept.
TMTMTM
Porthos laid his weapons out on the table and picked up a cloth. He reached for his pistol and began to clean it.
"What do we know about this Roland?" Aramis asked.
"Not much. He apparently lives near the Cross Keys and he's a regular."
"I don't like it. You shouldn't be going back there without back up."
"You worry too much. I'm only goin' to keep an eye on him."
"What if he has his friends with him? Look what they did to Athos." Aramis gestured towards their friend who was deeply asleep and snoring slightly.
"I'm not wearin' my pauldron. They'll have no reason to suspect me."
"Are you sure you can trust the innkeeper?"
"Yeah. Him I'm sure about. His wife, not so much."
"All the more reason for one of us to accompany you."
Porthos turned his attention to his sword, wiping the soft cloth up and down the blade. "Stop worryin'"
"I will if you promise to be careful."
"I'm always careful."
He had changed his doublet for one of plain brown leather. It didn't make him look any less lethal but at least he wouldn't obviously stand out as being a Musketeer. He couldn't hide the fact that he was a soldier though. That was ingrained in his nature, in the confident way he walked and his handling of weapons. He stood up and returned his sword to its scabbard. The main gauche slid back into its customary position and he hooked the pistol over his belt.
"I'd best get goin'. There's not tellin' when Roland will turn up."
"Stay safe, my friend."
They clasped hands and exchanged a quick embrace before Porthos strode from the room.
TMTMTM
The Cross Keys was busy when Porthos arrived. Marchaud was serving behind the bar. To his relief there was no sign of the innkeeper's wife. He suspected she would be tending to the kitchen. His stomach growled, reminding him that he had missed lunch. He elbowed his way up to the bar. Marchaud gave a slight nod of greeting.
"What can I get you?"
"Wine and some food." He looked around until he found an empty table. "I'll be sittin' over there." He leaned forward so that he could speak quietly. "Is he here?"
Marchaud shook his head. "I'll let you know when he arrives." He handed over a bottle of wine and a glass before scooping up the coin Porthos laid on the scarred wood of the bar.
Porthos made his way to the table, scowling at two men who were obviously intent upon claiming it for their own. They backed away with muttered insults although neither seemed inclined to make an issue of it. He sat down, stretched out his legs and poured the wine.
It was only a few minutes later that he saw Madame Marchaud weaving her way between the patrons carrying a tray. Her thin lips were set in a disapproving line as she delivered a bowl of stew and half a loaf of bread. She banged the bowl down onto the table, causing its contents to splash up and over the rim. Porthos chose to ignore her temper and gave her his most charming smile in return. He was grateful when she left him, walking with quick angry strides back to the kitchen.
Despite her sour nature she was a good cook and Porthos enjoyed his meal. He had just mopped up the last bite when Marchaud came over to the table looking nervous.
"That's him." He gestured with his head to the doorway before scurrying away again.
Porthos took a sip of his wine and casually looked towards the door. The man who had just entered was small and scrawny with sharp weasel-like features. He had stopped to look around and was rubbing his right arm in an almost absent-minded way. From this distance Porthos couldn't be sure but he thought he saw the edge of a bandage peeking out from under the shirt cuff.
If Roland was looking for someone it was clear that he didn't find them because he then walked to a table that had just been vacated and sat down. Shortly after that Marchaud brought him a tankard of ale. Porthos was too far away to hear what was said but there was no sign that the innkeeper was warning Roland about his presence.
For the next hour he watched his quarry. Roland kept looking towards the door, clearly expecting someone to join him. The man began to look agitated, consuming several tankards of ale in quick succession. Finally he stood up, swaying slightly and made his way back to the door. Porthos drained his wine and got up to follow. He had only taken a couple of steps when another man entered the tavern. From the relieved look on Roland's face this was the person he had come here to meet. Porthos hurriedly sat down again as the two men returned to the table.
They engaged in deep conversation seemingly oblivious to everyone around them. Marchaud delivered more ale to the table before approaching Porthos again.
"Who's he?" Porthos asked.
"I don't know his name." Marchaud made a show of wiping the table with a cloth. "He was here last night though."
"So that's two of the bastards who attacked Athos?" His anger was a physical thing begging to be released and it was only his promise to Aramis that kept him from confronting the men. Also he had the feeling that there was more at stake here than claiming retribution for Athos' injuries.
"I can't say but they certainly followed him out of here."
Porthos fished in his pocket and brought out another coin which he offered to the innkeeper. "Thank you."
"There's no need…"
"Take it. Loyalty shouldn't go unrewarded."
Marchaud took the coin and nodded his thanks. "What are you going to do now?"
"Follow Roland's friend when he leaves here."
It was some considerable time later before the two men parted company. Porthos had finished his wine and resisted the urge to order a second bottle. He needed his senses about him if he was to avoid the same fate as Athos. He stepped out of the tavern in time to see Roland head off in one direction with his companion walking quickly in another. Porthos waited until the man was a fair distance ahead of him before following. It occurred to him that his quarry seemed a little too well dressed to be drinking in this part of town so he wasn't entirely surprised when their route took them to one of the better neighbourhoods of the city inhabited by the wealthier merchants. He ducked back when the man reached a house and turned to look around him. When he cautiously peered round the corner the man was entering the house with the door closing behind him. Deep in thought at this unexpected turn of events he returned to the garrison.
Tbc