Through Darker Days

Chapter Seven

Aramis was just returning with a tray containing two bowls of stew and some bread when Athos woke up. It was a gradual process and not entirely pain free if the lines on his friend's forehead were any indication. After setting the tray down on a nearby table he went to brew another pain draught, returning to find Athos watching him with a faint smile on his lips.

"You are certainly an attentive nursemaid," Athos said.

"Someone has to look after you and the others are busy." He offered the cup only to have it waved away. "Do you think you could eat something?"

There were a few moments of quiet reflection before Athos nodded. "My stomach feels far more settled now. How long did I sleep?" He used his left hand to lever his body upright, sucking in a breath as the movement aggravated his ribs. He waited for Aramis to position a pillow behind his back before letting himself relax.

"The best part of four hours. It is time for the evening meal." Aramis settled the tray across Athos' lap and took his own bowl over to a chair beside the bed. He watched as Athos with deep concentration wielded the spoon with his left hand. It was a clumsy process which saw gravy splattered across the bed but Aramis knew better than to intervene.

"D'Artagnan returned?" Athos asked between mouthfuls.

"He did and with some very interesting information. The man Porthos followed last night is a silk merchant who imports his wares from Spain."

Athos' brow furrowed. "That…I have a vague memory." He stared off into the distance. "Something teases at the back of my mind." He dropped his spoon into the bowl and raised his eyes to meet Aramis'. "Why can't I remember?" he said, frustrated.

"You know as well as I that concussion can affect your ability to remember. This is progress, though, and perhaps an indication that your memory will return."

"Whatever it is, it's important."

"I don't doubt that. Someone was prepared to kill you to keep it secret."

"Maybe if I went back to the tavern."

Aramis shook his head emphatically. "There are many reasons why that is a bad idea."

"It might draw out the men who did this."

"It's more likely to drive them away. If they see you alive they will be afraid that you have told us what you overheard."

"I can't lie here and do nothing."

"That is exactly what you are going to do, my friend. Tomorrow you can get up but you will stay confined to the garrison until you are well." Aramis could see Athos readying himself to protest. "Treville's orders."

Athos' mouth tightened into a hard line. "I won't be held prisoner," he protested.

"You will follow medical advice and the orders of our Captain. You are still at risk and have no way to defend yourself."

"I have you and Porthos and d'Artagnan."

"No," Aramis said decisively. "We will not put you in further danger."

"As you wish."

Athos' capitulation raised Aramis' anxiety level. It wasn't like his brother to back down from a fight. He had a nasty suspicion that the man was going to try and go around him. It meant that he couldn't afford to let Athos out of his sight. As they settled down for the night he wondered just what mad plan was being hatched in his friend's mind.

TMTMTM

Athos awoke to the sound of birdsong and a faint glimmer of daylight creeping in through the window. He lay still and took stock of his injuries. His headache had lessened and he no longer felt nauseous when he opened his eyes. There was a persistent aching in his arm and a sharper pain across his ribs if he breathed too deeply. He rolled onto his side to study the sleeping figure on the bed next to him. Aramis lay on his back snoring softly in deep and peaceful repose.

It was a painful struggle to sit up and Athos had to bite his lip to stop groans escaping. He sat on the edge of the bed and waited for his vision to stabilize. A few deep breaths were necessary to bring his stomach under control. He looked around for his boots, finally spotting them at the bottom of the bed. Pulling them on one-handed was awkward and time consuming. He kept darting glances at his friend, convinced that Aramis would wake at any moment and thwart his escape.

His doublet was slung across the back of a chair and that was where he left it. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep silent while maneuvering his broken arm into the sleeve. The next challenge was his weapons belt. He clamped his left arm down on it to hold it in place while he fumbled with the buckle. Several colourful swear words flitted across his mind as he used his right hand to thread the leather through the metal. The movements jarred his injured arm, reminding him of just how helpless he really was. He was not unskilled at using his sword in his left hand and, of course, that was the hand with which he wielded his main gauche but his injuries hampered his movements, slowing him down to a dangerous level.

Once he was armed he made his way towards the door, opening it only enough to see out into the yard. It wouldn't do to run into Porthos, d'Artagnan or Treville. It was obviously early enough that most of the Musketeers had not yet come down for breakfast. He pulled the door open further and slipped outside, keeping close to the wall. Once he was satisfied that he was unobserved he strode as quickly as he could towards the archway. The two sentries looked at him curiously.

"How are you feeling?" one asked.

Athos kept walking. "It wasn't as bad as it looked," he said. "I will only be a short while."

"Are you sure you should be out of bed?" Belvoir, the older of the two asked suspiciously.

"I am only going as far as the apothecary's shop down the street," Athos lied. "Dr. Lemay asked him to make up a new pain medication for me."

"I could go for you." Henri, recently commissioned, was eager to be of service.

"The air will help to clear my head but you have my thanks." He had reached the street now. Already his weakness was starting to betray him. His arms and legs trembled and sweat coated his brow. He put out a shaky hand to brace himself on the wall before gritting his teeth and setting one foot in front of the other with grim determination.

TMTMTM

Aramis knew something was wrong the minute he opened his eyes. He sat up abruptly and looked around the room. His keen gaze soon established that Athos' boots and weapons were missing. With a mumbled oath he got to his feet and hurried to the door. The sun had risen above the horizon and the yard was busy. He looked around frantically before heading to the mess hall. His expression must have betrayed his apprehension. As soon as Porthos saw him he was on his feet and covering the distance between them.

"What's wrong?"

"Athos is missing."

"How could that happen?" d'Artagnan asked, joining them.

"I fell asleep. He must have left early this morning."

"Damn fool," Porthos said. "Athos, that is. Not you. I'm not surprised you fell asleep. You must have been exhausted from lookin' after him."

"That's no excuse. I knew he wasn't to be trusted."

Porthos gripped his shoulder and squeezed. "Don't blame yourself."

"We have to find him. Where would he go?"

"Last night he was talking about going back to the tavern. He thought it might help him to remember what happened."

"At least he isn't likely to run into Roland or Lacroix this early in the day," d'Artagnan said.

"I hope you're right. I'll get my things."

Aramis strode quickly back to the infirmary to gather his coat and weapons. All the time he was grappling with the sick feeling that Athos was walking into more trouble than he could handle.

Tbc