A Moment
By: MusketeerAdventure
Summary: A collection of brief moments between our musketeers (especially d'Artagnan and Athos), that would otherwise go unnoticed; swallowed up in the hectic parts of a day to perhaps end up in the recesses of memory – tucked away. Chapter Fifteen: As the hour before a mission draws near – our musketeers share a moment of love, allegiance and brotherhood.
Alyslee asked if I would consider continuing Chapter Fourteen. I have given it a try with one more correspondence. Please let me know what you think!
Chapter Fifteen: Into the Unknown
Athos watched with some apprehension as Gerard leaned over the neck of his horse; pressed his heels to flank and raced forward toward the woods – headed in the direction of home. The satchel of letters bounced at his side as he lifted his arm in farewell; the look on his face, one of fierce determination that relayed how nothing would get in his way. He would deliver their messages of affection; friendship and devotion. His mission would be a success.
A smattering of "good luck"; returned waves and forlorn looks accompanied him to the tree line.
Beside him, shoulder to shoulder, he felt his brothers release twin sighs – as if thankful a piece of them would make it back to Paris, and their loved ones- a piece of them that was tangible, solid and real. They had every faith in Gerard. He would make it home.
He could see it in all of his men more clearly now. It was evident in their straight backs; hopeful gazes and upturned lips that home is where they longed to be. Back home, in the arms of a wife – kissed by a child – embraced by a mother or laughing with a friend – in the confines of peace and well-being.
And soon – a part of them would be there. Today, they were going home in spirit and through the written word. They would speak to family of their hopes, fears and plans for the future. And they were the better for it.
He looked to the sky and saw that a dusky gray with streaks of gold had replaced the purple, pink hue of pre-dawn. A new day was about to begin – one of uncertainty that brought a shiver down his spine, which had nothing to do with the cool morning air.
As Gerard disappeared from sight – he sent out a silent prayer that his journey would be safe and uneventful. He turned then to his regiment – all waiting to hear his orders – and called out, "Let's eat; and break camp. We head out within the hour."
d'Artagnan touched his shoulder; squeezed and announced, "Then I will fetch your meal Captain.", and hurried off before he could say otherwise. For he was not hungry, only eager to get moving; realize his strategy and bring his men home in more than words on paper.
"He is resolved to keep you on your feet – that one – yes?" Porthos surmised with a grin – a twinkle still in his eye; never gone missing or extinguished; even after all they had witnessed.
Athos nodded; appreciated the overture of warmth and followed d'Artagnan's moving figure as he wound his way through men pulling down tents; feeding horses; rolling up bedding – until he made his way to the chow line and grabbed up three tin plates.
While there in line, he observed fondly the way he talked; laughed and listened to each man around him with undivided attention. Athos wondered at his enthusiasm, energy level and sense of purpose - a living contagious thing among the men which seemed to lift their spirits in easy camaraderie.
He frowned and looked to his feet. One day d'Artagnan would be a great leader of men – there was no doubt about it.
That determined, strong willed boy he met all those years ago – who stormed into the garrison and then into his heart; who absorbed every lesson he had to teach, was still there beneath the weariness of war. But now too, here before his very eyes that boy had gradually emerged to be a good and honest man – equal to his own sword, strategic mind, and sense of duty. And who now had surpassed him in all manner of ways worth note – compassion being only one of these.
There was nothing left to teach him. d'Artagnan would accomplish much, and he would be sure to see it come to pass – if not in the flesh; then in lessons remembered. He had promised to see him home again - to cleave unto his wife; and he would keep his word.
Porthos gripped his neck and pulled him briefly in. "I will join you two when I'm all packed up", he whispered; and sensing his anxiety added, "Do not worry Athos – everything will fall into place. We will rendezvous with our Army – provide support; and then home it will be."
Athos turned to his friend, and searched his eyes. "You sound confident that we will succeed."
Porthos sighed. "My confidence is in you Captain." And together they stood in companionable silence as the controlled chaos of the camp being dismantled echoed around them.
Athos reached for and gripped tightly the hand at his shoulder; and gave a brief smile. "Thank you brother", he murmured. "I'll see you soon for the meal."
Porthos nodded once; and slapped his back for good measure as they separated to ready themselves.
Athos stood quietly within his tent – after some attempt to pack up and make ready to address his men. Something in his heart felt unsettled, and his hands shook of their own accord. His stomach fluttered and he wondered at his sense of dread.
He reached for his saddle bag – pulled out his small wooden box, and sat heavily to the dirt.
Soon, Porthos and d'Artagnan would be here to share the morning meal – a ritual they had developed between themselves to be sure each of them remained hardy, in good health and good spirits.
He opened the box, thumbed solemnly through his letters to Anne and thought on her with care. To see her again was his objective – to confess his failings; and to share his need to see her content in the world was the goal.
His hand stayed above her written name, and he felt his heart skip a beat, and impulsively pulled a blank paper, his quill and vial of ink from the box.
He began to write in earnest:
Brothers,
If you are reading this – then I have gone on ahead and am waiting. Though I am no longer here, my essence is still with you; alongside you – as always.
We will see each other again, I am sure of it. But not too soon, for I wish to hear of your many adventures of love, and life. Then after hearing such wondrous tales – we will mount up and ride again.
Until then,
Athos
When he finished, he looked down in amazement at what he had composed. Truly these words had flowed from his heart to his hand without preamble and with abandon. He creased his letter in half, and placed Aramis', Porthos' and d'Artagnan's names in perfect script, on the empty folded space.
d'Artagnan then entered through the tent's flap, with Pothos close behind – his arms full with three plates of rabbit stew. "Breakfast is served!" he called out and smiled curiously as Athos quickly placed his letter in the wooden box, and returned it to his saddle bag.
He reached up for his plate, and exclaimed – "Then let us eat."
While he ate, Athos considered his friends, and knew that in this moment – he was happy to have this precious time with his family. To have d'Artagnan here with him now – though injured, thin and pale beneath his olive tones – he was also vibrant, alive and hopeful. The shine in his eyes looked to him with unwavering allegiance; and caused his heart to swell – overpowering his earlier apprehension.
Porthos caught his gaze over the top of their young friend's head, and together they spoke volumes in silent conformity. Their love and regard for one another summed up here between them, in this brief hour, a point in time to hold close – to not forget.
d'Artagnan sat tall then, lowered his utensil and plate to the dusty ground; and joined in their reflection. He swiped stew from the side of his mouth and extended his hand; waiting for them to connect and unify their bond.
Athos reached out and grabbed the offered life line and squeezed hard. Porthos added his weight and after a momentary pause bellowed, "Let us ready ourselves brothers."
As Athos mounted, and took his place in front of his regiment – as was his way – had no speech to give. He looked at each and every man, gave eye contact and nodded his encouragement. They nodded back in turn – ready to follow their Captain into the depths of hell if need be.
His thoughts flashed briefly of the lost two; his Anne with flowers in her hair; d'Artagnan drenched, standing ankle deep in water – holding a squirming fish above his head – Aramis' and Porthos' laughter floating above the trees; and the four of them seated around a warm fire – taking great pains to remember that glorious day – always.
When he turned to lead – his focus fell on France and he called out to his musketeers – "All for one." They all then surged forward and moved as one toward the border.
Well – this is the closing moment of this collection. I want to thank everyone who has read, reviewed and left me your kind words to ponder over. I would have never guessed at the wonderful response to these moments and am happy so many have enjoyed them. Also – thank you to those of you who have favorited; and followed. Your quiet support was much appreciated!