By the time I was ready to leave, it was high noon. The rain had subsided substantially, so I deemed it my best chance to return to Paris before nightfall or risk being caught out after dark again. I had already caused Athos enough worry, it was time I returned so that we could talk. Thankfully my horse had been properly fed and watered, rubbed down by the stableboy whom I paid an extra coin to for the service since the horse most certainly deserved it. "I promise, I shall never ride you bareback again. I know it cannot be comfortable for you, but at least I am small and light. Just think," I spoke as I stroked its face and velvet nose, "you could have been stuck with Porthos riding you bareback." The horse snorted, as if to despair the thought.
The ride back to Paris was far slower as I did not push the pace. There was plenty of daylight left and I did not want to overtax the horse. If there was a need for a sudden flight, I wanted to ensure it had the energy to escape with haste. Besides, I was by no means eager to reunite with Athos. I had already spent hours troubling over what I was going to say to him. An apology was due, I had not properly considered his feelings whilst I insulted him, and I had also struck him with a blow of my own. In that sense, one might say that we were even.
Still, the words never seemed right no matter how I constructed them or how elegantly they were phrased. Quite frankly, I felt like a small girl being brought before their parent to be chastised. Would he be angry? He must be furious with me. I had run away after all, and I had stolen a horse belonging to the barracks. Not just anyone could take them, and certainly not me. I was just as concerned over the fact that Treville would be angry with me. I could not decide whether I would hate his look of disappointment or my brother's more. Both were equally as devastating.
The hours continued on until I had reached the halfway point between the village and the city I heard the sound of a horse riding hard coming up from behind me. Naturally I lifted the reins from where I had been resting them against the horse's neck and tapped my foot against it's side, guiding it to move further onto the side of the road so that I could allow the traveller to pass. I presumed it to be a messenger, and I had learned from experience that it was best to simply get out of their way.
Once we were safely positioned, we continued to walk at a leisurely pace, though I continued to listen to the gradually increasing fury of the horse charging up the road. The sound was muffled slightly by the mud, squelching and no doubt splattering the rider's cloak with dirt, yet it was most certainly coming towards us. I did not stop, merely continued moving forwards and only turned my head slightly to watch the rider out of the corner of my eye, not trusting them to simply pass us. For all I knew, it could be a brigand.
Holding the blanket around me with one hand, I prepared to urge the horse to turn tail and flee, however when the rider finally crested at the top of the hill, they must have pulled up hard on the reins as the horse whickered loudly and their rhythmic thrumming slowed and settled. Now I turned, fully curious and no sooner had I looked into their face I recognised d'Artagnan. "Thank God I found you, I've been looking everywhere!" Next I knew, I was pulled into an awkward embrace which had me almost sliding off my horse's back. D'Artagnan's arms crushed my face as he held me, breathing shakily from the intense ride he had undertaken. "I went to the mansion and the village, I couldn't find you."
"I slept in the storage house…and waited in the inn for the rain to stop…d'Artagnan, I cannot breathe." He quickly let me go and steadied me before I could fall from the horse. Helping me to regain my seat, his horse's sides were soaked with sweat and was breathing as heavily as he was. They must have galloped practically all the way from the village in order to find me.
"They told me at the inn they had seen someone of your description and that I had just missed you. We searched half the night for you." A look of alarm crossed my face.
"We?"
"All of us, of course we searched for you Madeleine. Athos has been out of his mind with worry," a feeling of guilt gnawed at my insides, which d'Artagnan must have realised because he hastened to reassure me. "He feels terrible, truly. I have never seen him so distressed, practically beat himself up when you ran. We looked for you in the city until we realised one of the horses was missing from the garrison…Treville also had more men searching the streets. He also gave Athos a rather severe scolding…" seeing that this was not making me feel any better, d'Artagnan gripped at my shoulder reassuringly. "We were only concerned for your safety, Madeleine. No one is angry. Only at Athos. He should never have struck you."
"I should not have said what I did, it was ungracious and cruel," it was true, and I regretted it immensely. "A petulant child like myself will not suffer because of a little discipline, it is no less than I deserved."
"Do not say such things," d'Artagnan urged fiercely, squeezing my shoulder as our horses began to walk forwards of their own accords, no doubt made uncomfortable by their riders sitting so tensely upon their backs. We allowed them to walk, though d'Artagnan did not let go of me. "We should never have told you about the house in that manner, Athos should have known better than to be so blunt about it." The smouldering ruins flashed in my memory. Not knowing what else to say, d'Artagnan retracted his hand to begin unlashing his cloak, removing it with a shake to air it before drawing down my blanket. Lost in thought, I did not realise what he was doing until he was clumsily tying the lashes together and pulling the hood up over my wet hair, attempting to keep me warm and dry whilst he took the rather sodden and useless blanket.
"You will get wet…"
"I am more concerned for you as of right now." This was the final straw. I felt sick to my stomach and d'Artagnan's kindness only worsened the feeling of guilt and underserving within. I choked on a sob, feeling my stomach lurch so I lunged forwards and dismounted, quickly leading my horse off the road towards a sparse cluster of trees. Hurriedly d'Artagnan followed, hastening to dismount as I went to the nearest tree, doubled over and evacuated the contents of my stomach. The lunch from the inn was now making a grand second appearance, though I did not much care for its taste the second time around.
I retched and choked until I felt utterly wretched, vomiting and sobbing at the same time until I was the ugliest and most miserable wretch you would ever lay eyes upon. Rather graciously, d'Artagnan held the horses and stayed back, allowing me my humiliation in privacy, though perhaps this was partly owing to his desire to not be near such disgustingness. I could not blame him. I too would much rather be anywhere else rather than in his position. However, I had no choice but to wait until my stomach was finished, allowing me to spit out the last of the foul remains as best I could before using my sleeve to wipe my mouth.
Still I cried, finally finding the tears for my lost home, my lost life, and every grief and misery I had ever felt seemingly returning with a vengeance just as my meal had done. It was then d'Artagnan held me, moving the horses to hold their reins in one hand so that he could bring me against him and wrap me up as best he could. I was grateful for his silence, other than his soft hushes and soothing, with his hand rubbing into my back until I was too exhausted to cry any further. He did not move away and neither did I, merely leaned against him as my head throbbed and my throat burned for a drink.
D'Artagnan moved slowly, as if afraid that any sudden movements would trigger another flood of tears, as he shifted me upright a little so that he could try to look at me but I pointedly kept my face turned downwards. "Are you able to ride alone or shall you ride with me?" Although I wanted nothing more than to sleep whilst d'Artagnan brought me safely home, I did not think this fair to him and furthermore, I was humiliated enough already. I could not accept any further embarrassment, and being pressed up against a man for several more hours was more than my constitution could tolerate. I elected to ride alone.
It was miserable as the rain returned in several furious boats which had us both soaked to the bone. All of this because of my petulance and impulsiveness. I felt so desperately sorry for d'Artagnan and began to device several ways in which I could apologise to him sincerely for all the trouble I had caused him. That, as well as it helped to distract me from what else he had told me. The reason why Athos had behaved so strangely and refused to reveal the culprit who had started the fire, was because he claimed to have seen his dead wife in that house. She had started the fire, and she was not dead.
Comtesse Anne de la Fère was alive. When d'Artagnan had revealed this, I had almost fallen off my horse from shock. I had shrieked in shock and anguish, abhorring the injustice for my dear brother Thomas. His murderer was still alive, whilst he lay rotting in the ground. I understood now. I understood why Athos had been so quick to anger, why his hand had flown against me when I accused him of being unfeeling. If he had seen Anne again, then all of his wounds would have been ripped wide open and bleeding, and I had as good as driven in a knife and twisted it to make things worse. The guilt plagued me afresh, and soon I could not even think, only feel the nauseating sway of the horse's gait and the throbbing in my head as my nose seemed to swell and congest by the second. I was exhausted, overwhelmed and aggrieved. A potent mix to weaken a body exposed to the elements.
I did not recall the return to Paris, or how we arrived back at the garrison. I only came to because I heard a shout being raised, several cries of my name flying from multiple directions as my horse came to a halt of its own accord. Without the swaying motion to rock me back and forth and therefore, keeping me upright, I slid downwards and, to end with a final humiliation after all others, landed facedown in the mud. Oddly, it was rather soothing against my skin, and the impact seemed to jolt me awake a little.
It was enough so that when my brother all but shouted in alarm, I felt him skid across the mud as he threw himself down to my side. The familiar grasp of his hands seized me up to turn me over, arm curling underneath to cradle my head as his other hand pressed against my forehead. "You're burning…oh Madeleine forgive me…I'll do anything…just please do not leave me." Then my brother sobbed as he gathered me close to him, creating an intolerable warmth against my already raging flesh as I whimpered in pain.
His embrace was swift but firm, holding me for an instant before suddenly I was in the air, carried by Athos as Treville ordered him to bring me inside. For a while there was confusion, no one certain of how best to proceed to treat me whilst I lay in soaking wet clothes. Thankfully, someone had had the foresight to run for Constance. The moment she entered the room she had barked her orders for all the men to leave, I heard her voice powering through the fogginess of my conscience.
Although her bark was terrible, her hands were soft and I felt her tenderly undress me until I was completely bare, allowing her to dry then wrap me in warm blankets, rubbing me furiously to begin warming my body which was as cold as snow, whilst my face remained burning hot. Then she dressed me in fresh, clean clothing, brushed my hair and settled me into the bed. She nursed me until my brother came back, who then promptly refused to leave my side. He placed cool cloths upon my brow, wiped away the sweat and fed me the watery broths and medicines by hand, all while Constance remained to keep watch.
Neither of them left me, and as I drifted in and out of sleep, I could always feel them there with me. Almost always, Athos was holding my hand or brushing my hair. Over and over again he told me how sorry he was, how he would do anything to earn my forgiveness, and that he vowed never to raise his hand to me again. I wanted nothing more than to tell him that I was sorry too, that I was the one in the wrong and that I wanted to go back to being the way we were, even if it was just the two of us. I accepted that we could no longer have our old life, and all this time I had realised how I had still been holding onto the hope that we might have returned. But now I could see. Now I understood.
Athos was a Musketeer now, and the people we were before were both dead and gone. All we had now, was the life ahead of us, whatever that may be.