It was Athos' first trip to Paris. He was not sure he liked it. There were too many people. He liked the horses. But not the people. There were grand carriages and rickety carts. There were large houses and buildings. Not as big as his father's chateau, but still big enough to have lots of rooms. They stopped outside one of the large houses.
Athos stepped out of their carriage and looked up at the big house. His mother stopped behind him, resting her hand on his shoulder, she looked down at him and smiled.
'It's not quite home, is it?' she said. 'But it will feel like it is in a few days.'
Athos was not sure. He was not sure why he had been brought on the trip. His brother had been allowed to stay at home.
'There's a lovely garden a short walk from here,' his mother said. 'We'll go there once we have settled in. Your father will be busy most of today.'
Again, Athos wondered why he was there. If his father was going to be busy all the time, what was the point? He thought back to the conversation he had the previous day with his father. He was told not to wander off. He was told that the city was not the same as his home. He would not be safe on his own.
But Athos was eleven. Athos was fine on his own. He often went out at first light with his brother, and they did not return until they were hungry. Why was it different in the city?
Apart from all the people.
Athos had never seen so many people. Even outside the house, where they were going to be staying people were walking past.
Athos was not looking forward to his stay in Paris. He was only looking forward to going home.
MMMM
After a wait of what felt like several hours, Athos was finally allowed to walk with his mother to the gardens. He did not know what to expect from the gardens. He knew it would not be the same as being at home. The gardens were not going to be as big as his father's estate. He guessed they would be the formal sort of gardens. Like the gardens closest to their home. With silly little hedges and beds of flower plants that he was not allowed to run through.
He would not enjoy the gardens. Athos was determined he would not enjoy the gardens. But he would behave for his mother. He would behave enough to not get in trouble or upset her.
The old footman was walking a few paces behind them. His father insisted that a man should accompany them on their walk. Athos thought he was a man, but clearly, he was still a boy in his father's eyes. The old footman was a bit slow, but that would not matter in the city. They could not walk fast because of all the people in the way.
Athos hated it.
They reached a particularly busy area. A market was being held in a large square. People were shouting about what they were selling. Other people were pushing through with hand carts. A few dogs were running in and out of the people as they milled around.
Athos felt his mother's hand on his shoulder, she pulled him a little closer.
They walked through the market. Athos was being steered by his mother, away from a few people who were dressed in ragged clothes and reaching out to them with their cupped hands. Athos could not work out what they wanted. Athos glanced back at the people as his mother tried to hurry him along.
With no warning several older boys ran through the market shouting. They pushed past Athos and his mother, forcing her to let go of him. Athos stumbled back a few paces only to lose sight of his mother behind another group of people. Several strong-looking men walked through. Athos tried to push back to his mother but was shooed out of the way by the men towards the other side of a stall. He bumped into a woman who whirled around and shouted at him, she raised her hand and tried to hit Athos who backed away.
He found himself standing alone at the edge of the market. He was under the overhang of one of the large buildings that surrounded the square. People were walking past. No one paid him any attention.
Athos knew he could not go back the way he came as he would likely meet the woman who tried to hit him again. He walked a few paces and peered past the columns and through the market stalls, trying to catch a glimpse of his mother.
He could not see her.
'What ya got?'
Athos looked around at the person who had spoken. A boy a few years older than him was standing a couple of feet away. The boy was not alone, he had several other boys with him. They were all taller than Athos. It was the same group of boys that were running through the market and forced his mother to let go of him.
'Oi. I'm talkin' to you toffee nose,' said the older boy, as he took a half-step closer. 'We ain't got nofink. So you gotta give us what you got.'
Athos shook his head and took a couple of steps back. He did not like the way the boys were talking to him. He felt intimidated. Athos was not used to being scared.
'Get him!'
Athos ran.
MMMM
Athos had no idea where he was, he could still hear the boys behind him. He could hear the disgruntled shouts of other people as they were pushed out of the way by the pursuing group. Athos managed to get past people without knocking into them.
The boys kept shouting out horrible names to describe him.
With no apparent reason the noise of the boys stopped. Athos glanced behind and realised they had stopped following him. He could see them grouped further along the road. They were just watching him.
He stopped running and stared back at the boys. They began to walk away, with glances back at him as they went.
Once they were out of sight Athos finally took in his surroundings.
The street he was in was dim. It was odd. The sun should have been high in the sky and yet it did not seem to penetrate to where he was standing. He looked at the buildings. They were not as clean as the ones he ran past when the boys started to chase him. There were a few broken windows.
He saw a pile of old clothes by a set of steps. He gasped when the pile moved. Someone was sleeping under the pile of clothes.
Athos thought the air felt thick and heavy.
He wanted to get away from wherever he was. But he did not want to go back the way he had come in case the boys were still there.
He looked further along the street and decided he had no choice. He walked further along the road. He tried to do what his father did, he tried to walk purposefully. He kept his head up and his shoulders back. However, he could not help looking around frequently.
Athos was scared.
Athos was not scared often. There had been that time Thomas fell over and knocked himself out. Athos had been scared then. But this was different. Athos felt worried about his well-being.
He felt as though the walls of the buildings were pressing in on him. He longed for open space. Even a formal garden would be better than where he was.
He felt as though he was being watched. He looked up at the windows of the houses. Could he see people looking out at him? He looked in the dark corners. Were eyes watching him, following his every move?
He quickened his pace. He looked around again, he was sure he heard someone following him. As he turned back, he walked straight into something. He stepped back and stumbled, falling to the ground.
He looked up to see someone leaning over him.
MMMM
Porthos had watched the boy walking along the street with curiosity. He was out of place. He was lost. And that made him easy pickings. The fact he had run from a group of street children who hunted outside the Court implied he was very out of place.
No one in their right mind would try to evade the bullies by running into the Court.
Unless they did not know where they were.
Porthos looked up and down the street. No one else was about. At least no one that mattered. The old woman that lived by the steps did not count. She would be dead soon and then someone else would start living there.
The boy was dressed in a fine doublet. Porthos wondered if it would fit him. He liked fine clothes. He wished he could wear the best clothes. If he had all the money, he would buy a cloak with gold embroidery so that everyone knew he had all the money.
He pushed himself out of his hiding place and started to follow the boy. He kept to the side of the street, pushing himself out of the way whenever the boy looked around. Porthos was new to the gang he hung around with. If he could get something from the boy, it would help to cement his place in the group. Although Porthos did not want to hurt the boy.
Perhaps he could help him instead.
The rest of the gang did not need to know. He could help the boy to get back where he belonged and take something as payment. The boy would probably be scared of him and just hand over whatever he had anyway. Porthos did not need to tell the boy he would not hurt him.
He quickened his pace to match the boys before darting ahead of him through the thickest of the shadows. The boy heard him and looked back again. Porthos stepped out in front of him.
The boy walked straight into him and stumbled back, falling to the ground.
Porthos leaned over the boy and held out his hand. He smiled.
'You look lost,' he said.
The boy stared up at him but did not say anything, his eyes were wide. He looked like he might cry.
'Perhaps I can help you?'
'I haven't got anything,' said the boy. 'I've got nothing I can give you.'
Porthos shook his head, 'I'm not asking for money,' he said. 'I just wanted to help you.'
The boy was honest. Porthos was expecting him to lie about the possessions he had, but he was sure the boy was telling the truth. He did not have anything on him. He was obviously from a wealthy family. It was not just his doublet that was fancy. His shoes were fine as well. Although, they were not practical. But Porthos might be able to sell them.
The boy reached up a shaky hand, accepting Porthos' offer of help. Porthos pulled the boy up with little difficulty. He was well-fed, but not as stocky as Porthos was. Porthos had learned where he could find food. There was a baker who took pity on the young street children and gave them stale bread at the end of the day. And one of the pie sellers was not very good at keeping an eye on her stock. Porthos was generally able to steal one every few days.
The gang Porthos was in wanted him to be their fighter. Porthos liked fighting but was never keen on hurting people. The rough and tumble of a friendly brawl was fine, but hurting people was not. One of the adults in the gang was teaching him how to pull a punch and how to take a punch without getting hurt. He was being taught all the useful things he would need for when he was grown up in the Court.
Survival.
Something Porthos doubted the boy standing in front of him would be able to do for five minutes if he was left on his own.
'Do you know where you are?' he asked the boy.
The boy shook his head. Now that he was back on his feet he was trying - and failing - not to look scared. He had pulled himself up to his full height and pushed his shoulders back.
'This is the Court of Miracles,' said Porthos.
The boy looked around and scowled, 'it doesn't look very miraculous.'
Porthos chuckled, 'I don't know why it's called that, but I do know it ain't a place for the likes of you.'
'Me?'
Porthos nodded, 'you'll get yourself murdered. You're lucky I found you. My mates wouldn't have hesitated to run you through.'
The boy took a step back and looked around. He looked back the way he had come.
'Don't think you want to go that way. The gang out there won't have gone far. You're easy pickings. How are you on your own?'
The boy looked down, 'I got separated from my mother,' he said.
Porthos had to stop himself from smirking. The thought of being the boy's age and still relying on his parents was strange. Porthos' mother had died when he was five. Porthos never knew his father. He had been alone for five years. The boy did not know anything about life on the streets.
And Porthos knew he could take advantage of that.
'I will take you back to your parents,' he said. 'But I'll need paying.'
'I don't have anything,' said the boy.
'But you could get something.'
They blinked a couple of times before nodding.
'What's your name?' asked Porthos.
'Athos, son of the Comte de la Fere.'
Porthos hid a smirk again. The boy was very formal with his introduction.
'Hello Athos, son of the Comte de la Fere,' said Porthos. 'I am Porthos of the Court of Miracles.'
Athos frowned, realising Porthos was making fun of him.
'We'll have to use a different route to get out,' said Porthos ignoring Athos' annoyed look, 'stay close to me and do as I tell you.'
Porthos got the impression Athos did not want to be told what to do. But he knew that if the boy did not follow his instructions, they might both end up dead.
To be continued…
Whumpee: Athos. Featuring: Porthos.