Well, this chapter took on a life of its own! It just kept growing. Sorry about where I left it (I'm not really!) :) Thanks for reading and leaving comments.

One step forward and two back. That seems to be Athos' rate of progress. The Captain begins to share his plan with Aramis.

CHAPTER 61

ARAMIS

At some point during the evening, I have fallen asleep and when I am hit on the top of the head, I come abruptly awake into darkness and am totally disorientated.

I have been cushioning my head on my arms, which are resting on the bed as I sit beside Athos. It is he who has woken me up and I know straight away that something is wrong and that he is struggling.

"Stop it, Athos. You are safe. Aramis an' I are with you." It's Porthos and I sense that he is looming over the bed trying to catch Athos' flailing arms in the darkness, but there is no placating our brother and he fights all the harder. "Aramis, light the candle!" Porthos calls to me, but before I can move, a small flame appears near the table and, in the gloom, I see someone else lighting several candles in quick succession.

It's Tréville and he quickly brings two of them over, holding them to illuminate the bed and unwilling to set them down on the bedside table because of the way Athos is thrashing. In the candlelight, I see my friend's expression and it is one of unmitigated terror, his eyes wide and his mouth open in a silent scream.

I catch a hand even as Porthos kneels on the bed and throws his arms around Athos in an attempt to suppress his writhing.

"Here," and the Captain thrusts the candles towards me. When I take them from him, he darts back to the table and brings back some more so that with hands outstretched, we encircle Athos and Porthos, bathing them in a golden glow.

"Ssshhh, you're alright," Porthos says softly, as the fight drains slowly from Athos, whose breathing is now ragged, prompting a coughing fit, but Porthos pins him to his chest with one arm whilst rubbing his back with the free hand. The coughing eases in time, but the room is filled with his rasping breathing. He still has the eyes of a wild man as he clasps Porthos' arm in desperation and his silent screaming continues unabated.

Considering it safe to do so, I set down my two candles and take Athos' head in my hands, forcing him to look at me. With my two thumbs, I begin a rhymical stroking of his cheeks.

"You're safe. We're here, Porthos and me, and the Captain," I add. "You're in the infirmary in the garrison in Paris. You're safe."

I repeat the words over and over, wondering how many more times I will have to say them and stroking his face until the terror subsides and I see the puzzled frown so that I know he is slowly coming back to us. Next comes the recognition and he sinks into Porthos' arms again.

"That's it," I say. "Deep breaths and relax."

His eyes slide sideways and I notice how he is noting the position of the candles in the room. Tréville is taking it upon himself to light all that he can find and positioning them on shelves, along the central table, any stable surface, even the seat of a wooden chair until the room is fully revealed, all shadowy corners banished so that Athos can see into the furthest recesses and it means something to him. He pulls from my hands and peers around Porthos, his eyes raking the room.

"I am so sorry," I blurt out. "We both fell asleep at the same time and the candle burned out. We never meant for you to wake in the dark." His attention is upon me once more and I fervently hope that he is hearing what I say and understanding me. "I'm sorry."

With calm restored, his features soften, and he tentatively raises a hand. The effort proves too much for him, and he drops it heavily on my right arm. I am not imagining it when his fingers close a little to give me a gentle, comforting and forgiving squeeze. My breath hitches and my eyes well up with tears as I cover his hand with my left one. Without hesitation, Porthos moves his hand over mine.

"All for one," he rumbles, his voice filled with emotion.

"And one for all," I finish, just as Athos focuses on both of us and dips his head in acknowledgement.

It only lasts a moment but seems to last forever and gives us a seed of optimism. Athos is still here; he comprehends and knows. There will be plenty of obstacles; the Lord knows that we have faced two today. Athos cannot take bright light yet and total darkness, with all its associations, currently fills him with utter dread. We will open the shutters one at a time during the day, building up his tolerance to natural light and, for now, we will always make sure that he has at least two candles burning beside him throughout the night. We will address the situation of overcoming this fear of the dark once he is much stronger.

"Some water and then some broth. Back to beef today," I say, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as I can and going to the hearth to fill a bowl from the pot that is simmering there. With my back to them, it gives me a much needed moment to compose myself and slow my pounding heart.

The Captain follows me though and keeps his voice low. "I saw the basin by the bed and there's a faint odour. Has he thrown up?"

I nod and sigh. "Yes, a while ago before we all fell asleep. It's my fault. My fault entirely."

"What makes you say that?"

"I pushed him too far too soon. I thought he might be getting fed up with just broth and gave him some stew. A few spoonsful: that's all it took. His stomach can't cope yet with the more solid food. I suppose I'm too impatient in wanting him to build up his strength. We seem to be one step forward and two back at the moment, what with daylight, solid food and now darkness."

"But at least we're identifying these problems between us. The sooner they surface, the sooner we can figure out the ways to overcome them."

That's the Captain all over; assuming his share of the responsibility and ever the pragmatist.

He watches as I blow on the broth to cool it.

"When you've fed him, let Porthos sit with him and come and see me in the office. I want to talk through a plan with you; I need your help."

My alarm is immediate. "You're not making us leave Paris?"

"Not at all. Whatever has to be done is here in the city."

Whilst I am relieved that we are not being taken away from Athos when he requires our constant care, I still harbour a niggling doubt. "But I thought you were going to ease us back into duty one at a time?"

"And that's what I am doing. Oh, you can certainly tell Porthos what the task entails. I am not demanding that you keep any secret from him, but I'm considering that this task is for you alone. It should not take long."

We feed Athos and note with cautious pleasure that he eats more than he has done so far. I have been worrying unnecessarily that his rebellious stomach earlier might have reduced his willingness to eat anything, but the result is the opposite. Wracking my brains, I try to think of what else we might feed him that has the ingredients to build him up but, in consistency, falls somewhere between the thin broth and a stew with its lumps of vegetables and meat. I resolve to visit Serge at the first available opportunity as I'm sure he'll have the answer and even if he doesn't, he'll love the challenge of finding out and experimenting.

When Athos has eaten his fill and drunk a cup of water, he doesn't fall asleep immediately as he has been doing; instead, he begins to fidget and look uncomfortable. He points to the floor and, with some embarrassment, to himself.

"You've dropped something?" I ask, angling my head to study the floor but he shakes his head. "Are you in pain?" A more frustrated shake of the head. "Are you in some sort of discomfort?" An urgent nod now!

I am bewildered as Athos' face darkens with mounting anger but Porthos snorts with amusement and reaches under the bed for the chamber pot. "Is this what you're wantin'?"

Athos nods vigorously, his relieved expression at the question increasing as we manoeuvre him out of the bed until he is standing shakily, Porthos supporting him, as he uses the pot at last. I glance towards Tréville who has retreated to the door to afford us some privacy and our eyes meet. It is his turn to nod now as he gives a satisfied smile and leaves.

Having had more than our two backward steps today, I eagerly welcome this one that propels us forward once more. It is one less thing to worry about.

Half an hour later, I take the stairs up to Tréville's office two at a time and rap on the door. He bids me enter. The room is lit by a couple of well-placed lamps, one of them on the corner of his desk, and he indicates the chair he has placed for me opposite him. He has already poured a generous amount of brandy into the two glasses that stand on the desk top amidst several untidy piles of paperwork. Somehow, he finds a route to push one of the glasses towards me as I sit down.

"To Athos' continued recovery," he says quietly, raising his glass in a toast that I willingly acknowledge.

We sit in comfortable silence for what seems like an age, and I am loathe to press him on this plan that he is hatching. Eventually, though, he speaks.

"The Cardinal has informed me that Ferel was arrested two nights ago after he met a messenger, the person whom we presume works for the traitor on the council."

I raise an eyebrow, curious at this latest development and wondering how it affects me.

"Unfortunately, the messenger gave Richelieu's man the slip and we are unsure as to whether his cover has subsequently been compromised so we no longer have anyone on the inside of the Chatelet. Since his arrest, Ferel has been co-operative and done a lot of talking. He's told us all he knows but cannot describe the messenger, nor identify the person for whom the messenger is working."

"I bet he has talked," I chuckle. "Working at the Chatelet as he does, he is probably in no doubt as to the rigorous questioning techniques employed by the Cardinal and his men. He will have heard and seen the results first hand, not least with Bircann."

It's good to see the Captain relaxed enough to smile at my words and the worry lines around his eyes soften a little.

"That's why I want you to visit Ferel in prison to exercise your 'lighter touch'. You will play nice to the Cardinal's nasty, instead of with Porthos. He has met you both but I think you might be less intimidating."

"If Ferel has already given you information though, what more do you expect me to get from him?"

"Nothing. I believe he has told us all he knows. I want him to do something for us, to set a trap for the messenger."

"And what does he get in exchange?"

"His freedom."

I let out a low whistle. "I thought you were going to say that he gets away with his life."

Tréville shakes his head. "There is nothing to be gained by keeping him locked up and certainly not by putting the man to death. He is a minor character in the much grander scheme of things, manipulated because of desperation. He needs money for a sick child; you need help for a sick friend. If he agrees to set up this next meeting with the messenger, he will be released and given a purse to help the child."

Bitter experience in the past has left me with a suspicious mind. "Supposing he is released and immediately runs?"

"He won't," Tréville declares, and I would not want to contradict him, not with the firm expression he wears. "I will have him watched day and night by Musketeers until the meeting takes place, but I am hoping that it will not take very long once he has sent the signal."

"Which is what? How does he know when and where to go to pass on or exchange these messages?"

"When Bircann wants to send a message out, a lit lantern appears in a particular window of the Chatelet in the late afternoon, early evening. If there is a message for Bircann, a similar light is put in the window of a lodging house opposite the prison. So simple and so obvious … when you know what you're looking for. Later that evening, usually around ten of the clock, Ferel goes to a seedy tavern nearby called The Pewter Pot, meets the messenger and they pass on any messages. Occasionally, if the message is seemingly urgent as happened two days ago, a street urchin is given some coin by the messenger to take a missive to the Chatelet gate and ask that it be directed to Ferel."

"What was so important that Bircann needed to know?"

"I'm not sure. It could be to confirm that d'Aubrey had been brought to Paris for questioning and that other co-conspirators were in danger of being named. It was not that de Chiverny and Retel had been arrested as that only happened yesterday. Perhaps the council member got wind of the fact that the King is itching to forgive his mother and have her returned to Paris. They might fear that she will give evidence against them. The Cardinal does not seem to think that she knows the identity of the council member. Bircann has been very clever as to who has known what and when."

There is a pause during which the Captain looks at me strangely before he speaks. "Perhaps it told Bircann that we had found Athos."

I am puzzled. "But he knew that was going to happen when he gave you the information as to where Athos was being held."

"Yes, but the mystery man could have gone on to inform him that Athos is alive; that Bircann has lost his twisted game."

"How does this 'mystery man' know?" I ask, repeating the Captain's words. "I thought you said the King has refused to hold any meetings of the council until the traitor is revealed."

"He has, but any leak might have accidentally have come from here. Perhaps one of the men inadvertently said something in a tavern one night. We didn't swear any of them to secrecy; we are just being careful as to what they know regarding the state Athos is in. The messenger fortuitiously comes across an off-duty Musketeer, gets him talking, buys him more ale and thus gets his information, no malice intended on the part of the Musketeer." He sighs. "Or the leak could have originated in the palace itself. I wish I knew the extent of all the secret passages. Now Richelieu informs me that he is deliberately letting slip some information to draw out the traitor. He regards this person as the biggest threat to the King, France and her security; far more so than Bircann ever presented."

"I can't imagine the Cardinal just 'letting slip' some information in conversation or leaving some incriminating documents lying on his desk. How is he doing it? Is it fabricated information or real?"

"I have no idea as to the how and he is unlikely to tell me anyway, but whatever his methods, he will be doing it in a carefully orchestrated fashion so that he or his intelligencers can follow any trail of information as a means to revealing the traitor. As to the validity of that leaked information, I think it is a mixture of true and false."

A chilling thought occurs to me. "Could Richelieu have revealed that we have Athos?"

Tréville hesitates. "It's a possibility I am not prepared to overlook."

I feel the first stirrings of anger on Athos' behalf. "And do the Cardinal and King know the extent of his injuries? The way the incarceration has deeply and negatively affected him? The fact that he can't speak?"

"No!" Tréville is adamant. "The only people who know the full extent of what this has done to him are we three, Claude and Serge. No-one else."

"And that's the way it stays. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"So what message is Bircann going to be sending this time? I take it that there will be a message to be handed over? How will you get him to write it for you?" I am identifying all sorts of problems and details that need addressing.

"He won't be writing it," the Captain announces. "I will."

I look on amazed as I think of the near-illegible scribble that passes for his hand. "Won't the messenger realise that it is from someone else?"

"I'm sure I can get a sample of Bircann's writing from Richelieu from past letters, documents … and confessions. You could copy it for me." As my jaw drops at this foolhardy part of the plan, he hurries on to reassure me. "I know Athos would be the better forger, but he is in no fit state to do so. The other excuse to be used is that Bircann is so damaged now by torture that he can only manage a poor scrawl."

I pull a face and jest. "I think there is still a huge difference between the writings of a tortured man and what you produce. Yours looks as if the very pen has been tortured too!"

"Thank you," he says, without meaning it, but he gives a wry smile instead. "It's the best I can think of right now. His trial is to start shortly and I'm sure I can persuade Richelieu to confiscate a number of his personal possessions that have eased his imprisonment. If we took his writing materials, we would at least have the same pen, ink and paper that has been issued to him. We have to hope that it satisfies the messenger should he think to have a closer look. I would also have to get my hands on his seal even if it is a ring that he wears, for he can be deprived of that too. I intend to visit him in gaol tomorrow anyway."

He is looking very pleased with himself.

"Your purpose?"

"I am going to tell him that we have Athos, just in case he has not been informed by his outside sources. I want to see how he reacts to the news and that Athos is making such a rapid recovery, he will soon be able to resume his position as my second-in-command. I will press home the point that all will be as normal again within the garrison, especially as the men are relieved at Athos' return and have been celebrating that fact."

"In other words, you are going to gloat," I say and finish my brandy. The Captain immediately proffers the bottle to refill the glass. He cannot stifle the broad grin that suddenly, somehow, makes him look younger.

"I am indeed," he admits, "and I am going to enjoy every single moment of it."

I sip the brandy, welcoming the smooth, fruity flavours. Although far from being an expert on what constitutes a good brandy, I can detect the hint of oak and spices. I sniff at it and sigh contentedly at the heady aroma; at least I can appreciate that it is a fine example of the spirit.

"What will your message say on behalf of Bircann?" I ask, revolving the glass slowly in my hands, almost mesmerised by the amber liquid. When I realise that there is a long, drawn-out silence, I look up to find Tréville studying me.

"That I have heard the Musketeer Athos lives and is recovering in the garrison infirmary. That I want something done about it before he has the chance to recover."