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Treville is thinking about his plan but what is happening in the infirmary?
CHAPTER 60
TREVILLE
I am preoccupied on my ride back to the garrison as my mind formulates the plan in finer detail. It was a little rash on my part to make the announcement as I did to the King and Richelieu, but they were in favour when I broached it. Now all I have to do is put it and all its components into practice.
The stable boy promptly materialises and takes my mount from me and I am just about to head to the stairs up to my office. The intention is to assign men to make up the party under Claude's leadership to collect the dowager queen from where she is being held, and then I will tackle the paperwork, but a diversion to the infirmary beckons. This will be my first visit of the day and I want to check on what sort of night Athos has had.
When I open the door, I almost hit Aramis with it as he is pacing agitatedly just inside the room, his hands combing distractedly through his dark hair. Porthos is quite the opposite and appears relaxed, sitting on a chair positioned halfway down the room, hands resting lightly on his knees as he seems to be gazing at the wall on the other side of Athos' bed.
The same bed which, for the first time in several days, is now empty.
I frown. "Where is he?" I ask softly when Aramis stops his pacing to stand beside me.
He doesn't answer but inclines his head to the same bit of wall that has caught Porthos' attention. I move quietly, cautiously down the room, my eyes on the patch of plaster that seems to be so fascinating.
It is only when I get closer that I see the top of Athos' head the other side of the bed. He is sitting on the floor, back against the wall and wedged between his bed and a vertical support beam. His head is bowed, face obscured by the arms that are tightly wrapped around his knees and drawn up to his chest.
"'E woke up about half an hour ago, threw 'imself on the floor before we could stop 'im an' he's been there ever since," Porthos whispers, his eyes never leaving his motionless friend.
"We've tried to move him, but he's fought us every time. The way he's sitting there, trying to be as small as possible … it's just how I found him in the bottom of that pit," Aramis explains but even so, I hear the pain in his muted voice when that accursed place is mentioned.
I step closer and crouch before my stricken lieutenant, trying not to be alarmed by this development.
"Athos?" I say. "Athos? It's not good for you down here on the floor. Why don't you let us help you back into bed?" It is as though he has not heard me, so I reach out and lay a hand lightly on his forearm. I feel him stiffen beneath my touch but other than that, there is no response and he certainly makes no attempt to lift his head.
I stand up and revolve slowly on the spot. It is now early afternoon and the sun is streaming in through the infirmary windows, making it a light and bright place for soldiers to recuperate from whatever injury or sickness that would put them here. It was one of the things I stipulated when the existing building was being adapted for its new use. A shaft of sunlight falls upon the place where Athos had been sitting in bed; indeed, some of it also warming the top of his head until I rise and cast a shadow on him. He shifts so slightly that it is almost imperceptible, but it is there nonetheless.
I turn abruptly and study the windows behind me.
"When he has awoken before, has it ever been in full daylight?"
Porthos and Aramis exchange confused looks, their brows furrowing as they try to recall. Porthos is the first to shake his head, but it is Aramis who passes comment.
"No, this is the first time. It's always been in the evening or during the night." Realisation dawns on him. "The room would have been lit by a handful of candles."
"It's too bright for 'im. He's been in pitch black for weeks." Porthos, galvanised into action, is on his feet and moving swiftly down the room, slamming the shutters closed, even as Aramis goes to the table and lights a couple of candles in their holders. They are beacons of gentle light in a room that has suddenly become significantly darker.
The sound of the shutters and sudden movement have proved too much and as I watch Athos, he visibly flinches and begins trembling.
"We need to get him back into bed," I say unnecessarily, but I crouch before him once more and, this time, lay my hand gently on his tangled hair. "Athos, it's alright. You can look up now. The bright light has gone."
Slowly, oh so slowly, he raises his head, a deep frown creasing his forehead as he stares at me without any recognition and then beyond me to the shuttered windows. I take his arm but feel his resistance as soon as I begin to pull at him.
"'Ere, let me," Porthos offers, and I willingly exchange places with him as he starts up a constant, soft encouragement whilst he manipulates Athos with incredible ease until he is up and sitting on the side of the bed.
"Let's get you more comfortable," he continues as he lifts Athos' legs and twists him, moving him back to prop him against the pillows, accepting more of them from Aramis with a grateful nod. Then Porthos tucks the sheet and blanket in around him, smoothing them down with a huge hand. "That's better," he says, sitting on the bed at Athos' side. "Now what were you thinkin', sittin' there on the floor?"
His soft one-sided conversation resumes but there is nothing to reward him for his efforts. It is good to see Athos sitting there unaided apart from the pile of pillows at his back rather than being held by the big man as has happened since the fever broke. However, Athos stares vacantly into the space before him, as if Porthos, Aramis and I don't exist.
I hear a breath catch and turn in time to see Aramis stride back to the door and disappear through it. When I go after him, he is slumped on the bench outside the infirmary, head in hands and shaking. I sit next to him, our shoulders just touching so that he knows I am here and give him the time he so desperately needs to recover himself. He has had too many weeks of worry that were momentarily lifted when we found Athos, only for him to discover that the road to recovery is going to be long and arduous and that none of us knows if it will ever be complete, whether Athos will ever be fully restored to us as the friend and brother he once was.
In my head, I curse Bircann for all the suffering he has foisted upon us, the community of Musketeers. He has skilfully broken too many of us – the King included - and the overriding question is whether everyone can be put back together.
At last, Aramis looks up, eyes red and sniffing loudly. Embarrassed, he fumbles for a handkerchief in his pocket and gives himself more time by putting it to use. Only when he stuffs it away again and clears his throat does he dare to speak.
"I don't know if I can do this," he admits, his eyes haunted by what he has just said.
I smile sadly. "You can and you will, because you know your brother needs you. You will never turn your back on him. It is, in the great scheme of things, still very early days, but you will realise what is needed of you and you will do it."
He wrings his hands together and focuses on them. "Porthos is already so much better at this than I am. He talks to Athos the whole time, about what we're doing when we're feeding, cleaning and changing him, although he insists on taking on the major part of those roles too. He tells him jokes, what's been happening in the garrison, the gossip he's heard about what's going on at court. Anything and everything … except for being in that place and Bircann. He never mentions them. He's so easy with Athos, whereas I am …" and he lets the sentence trail off.
But I understand immediately.
"You forget. Porthos has been here before. He has experience," I state softly. His head turns and I know I have got his attention. I must tread warily when I next speak though.
"What do you remember about Savoy and its aftermath?"
There is a long pause as Aramis thinks hard back to that bitter experience when, suffering a head injury that might have slain the next man, he was abandoned by his close friend, Marsac, and left freezing in the snow along with the corpses of twenty Musketeers when they were attacked on a training mission.
"I can see bits of the actual slaughter in my mind, but it's very confused. As to my time recovering afterwards, I can't recall any of it other than what you and Porthos have told me over the years."
And it isn't much, but I am not going to share any more than is absolutely necessary, even now.
"It was Porthos who stayed with you day and night for all that time. We had to persuade him to sit outside to get some air when you slept, remind him to eat and have other men sit beside you as he rested on a nearby bed, much as the two of you have been doing now. Of course, Athos had only just joined us and the three of you had yet to form your friendship so he wasn't directly involved much.
"It was Porthos who maintained the running commentary of things, just as he is doing now. He was the one who changed the dressings on your various injuries, even the ones that were the more serious. It was he who nursed you back to health, coaxing you to eat when you refused, held you through the dark hours when the nightmares would not leave you alone.
"He never stopped believing that you would recover, even when he was told otherwise by the doctor and warned by his colleagues. He was always hopeful, ever the optimist, and was strong for the pair of you, determined that you would come back to him and would be able to resume your place as a Musketeer once more. Porthos never gave up."
His head snaps round and he glares at me.
"Is that what you think I am doing? That I'm giving up on Athos?"
He is angry and I sigh.
"Heaven forbid! I do not think any such thing. Whilst much of what Porthos went through with you is similar to what is happening now, there is still a considerable difference. We found you within a few days. Yes, there was far more violence used in the Savoy incident and many men were lost in that atrocity. I cannot think of one Musketeer not deeply affected by the grief at losing a close friend. The whole garrison has felt Athos' protracted absence this time and they want answers and justice for him.
"You were the sole survivor for a little while whereas Athos has been alone for a lot longer, both of you trapped within your own horrors. You and Porthos have been, and understandably so, the ones most affected during the time when Athos was missing. It was a highly charged, emotional time for you both and you never gave up in the search for him. You found him and you brought him home – a result that should be the cause of great celebration, but you have not been able to do that with his fever, his inability to speak or to do anything for himself, and you are left wondering if there are more bad things to come such as whether he will ever be back to the Athos we knew, and when. That dark cloud still hangs over you both like a pall; the uncertainty overwhelming after what you have already been through. Today, I would hazard that you are exhausted, so I am going to order the pair of you to get your heads down for a while."
"But Athos …"he begins.
"Will be fine," I finish, "if Serge or I sit with him for a while. God knows that I have a surfeit of paperwork to do and Serge can sit at the table and prepare vegetables or whatever he finds necessary. Athos will be perfectly safe with us. Besides, he will probably be asleep himself before long."
Aramis slumps on the bench as he gives in to the tiredness that assaults his body and mind.
"Why didn't I realise it was the daylight that was bothering him when he awoke?" he moans, and I know he is blaming himself for no reason. Good grief! He is quick to accuse Athos of being weighed down by irrational guilt, but he does a damn good job of it himself at times!
"I'd say it is all the evidence you need to prove just how tired you are, or else you would not have missed it. Athos requires a lot of care at the moment, perhaps I should get some help for you so that -"
"No!" he interrupts swiftly, as I suspected he would. "We can do it; we will support him."
"Then let us support you wherever we can."
He pauses, but it pleases me when he nods his acceptance.
"Can you be patient though and give us more time from our duties?"
It was a reasonable question and one to which I haven't really given serious thought … until this most recent meeting at the palace.
"I will give you as much time as I can and then, one at a time, you will have to shoulder some duties again."
"Understood, Captain," he says with a hint of that familiar 'Aramis smile' lightening his drawn features. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me too soon," I warn him as I think of the plan I so glibly announced at the palace. "I have need of one of you sooner than you think."