A Father's Love

Chapter Eleven

Marguerite arrived with food mere moments after the Queen's departure. Aramis sent up a small prayer of thanks. There could be no justification for a member of the royal family showing concern for a common soldier. She fussed over him until he lost patience and sent her away, only barely acknowledging the hurt look on her face.

Once he was alone he gathered up his diminished strength and got out of bed. His breeches were neatly folded on a chest in the corner and he pulled them on. Even that small exertion exhausted him and he had to sit for several minutes before venturing out of his room. Fortunately, Athos' bedchamber was just next door so he didn't have to take many unsteady steps.

Constance and d'Artagnan both looked up when he entered but there was no acknowledgement from Athos who lay motionless on the bed.

"What are you doing here?" Constance asked. "You should be in bed."

"How is he?" He crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed. A hand on Athos' forehead confirmed his worst fears. "He's burning up."

"I think he is cooler than he was," d'Artagnan said. "Last night he was hallucinating. Today he's just slept."

"What has the doctor prescribed?"

"A potion every four hours and cool cloths on his face and the back of his neck." Constance's face was drawn with exhaustion.

"When did you last sleep?" Aramis asked.

"Two nights ago," d'Artagnan interjected before she could speak. "She hasn't left his side since the fever started."

"Then you have done enough. I will care for him. You go and rest."

"You are barely fit to be out of your own bed," Constance said.

"I am well enough. D'Artagnan, get her out of here and I don't expect her to return until she has slept."

Constance was too tired to fight him and allowed d'Artagnan to guide her out of the room. Aramis settled in one of the armchairs and kept vigil. At intervals, he would wet a cloth and place it on Athos' forehead. The heat emanating from his brother soon dried it out so that it had to be replaced. After a while Athos became unsettled although he showed no sign of waking. The atmosphere in the room was hot and airless which undoubtedly was doing the sick man no good at all. Aramis quickly began to tire but pushed aside his own discomfort. More time passed and Athos' eyes opened. He had started to shiver.

"Cold," he whispered, trying to pull the thin covers further up.

"That is just your body's way of trying to regulate your temperature," Aramis said, gently capturing Athos' hands. "I will fetch you something to drink."

A pitcher sat on a small table near the bed. When Aramis sniffed at its contents he identified a concoction of very powerful herbs. He poured some into a goblet and carried it back to the bed. He used one arm to support Athos' shoulders and held the goblet so that he could drink.

"It's disgusting," Athos said weakly.

"True, but it's necessary. Once your fever breaks I will bring you some watered wine to make up for it."

The ghost of a smile touched Athos' lips. "I will hold you to that."

He settled down again and soon drifted off to sleep. It was growing dark when Porthos arrived.

"D'Artagnan said you were in here. How do you feel?"

"Tired."

"Then why aren't you in bed?"

"Athos needs me. I think his temperature has come down a little and he seems to be resting easier."

"That's good news. When the fever first took hold the doctor wasn't sure he'd make it through the night. I'll fetch us some food and we can sit with him."

The hours crawled by. Candlelight now illuminated the room. Aramis and Porthos took turns napping although neither derived much benefit from it. In the early hours of the morning Athos woke, his forehead beaded with sweat. Soon he and the bed were both soaked and Porthos had to find a change of bed linen. The breaking of the fever heralded that the worst was over and, once they had made Athos comfortable, Aramis sought his own bed and fell into a deep sleep.

TMTMTM

It didn't take long for word to come from Paris. As expected, the King ordered their return. He had sent a contingent of guards and two new coachmen. Porthos gathered up his prisoners and tied them on horses. The man who had been stabbed by Constance complained vociferously the whole time until Porthos lost his temper.

The defeat of the bandits seemed to have quietened things down in the forest and the sheer number of soldiers was enough to give any remaining miscreants pause. Athos was disgruntled when told that he would be riding in the carriage with the Queen but no one paid any heed to his complaints. Aramis rode which only seemed to increase Athos' annoyance.

Before nightfall they had arrived back at the Chateau de Noue where they were again greeted by the Baron and his wife. Porthos adamantly refused to let Aramis take a turn at guard duty so he retired to bed early. He awoke before dawn and made his way to the beautiful little chapel. When he entered it he found that he wasn't the first. The Queen was kneeling in front of the altar with her head bowed. He began to back out but his sword struck the wall and the noise made her turn in alarm.

"Forgive me, Majesty."

"Aramis! You are well?" She rose gracefully to her feet.

"Quite well. I will leave you alone."

"No." She held out a hand. "I was giving thanks for our safe return. Come and pray with me."

Aramis took hold of the crucifix she had given him and raised it to his lips. Then he genuflected and joined her.

They prayed quietly for a while before she turned to him. Her face, in the dim glow of the lamp, was filled with an ethereal beauty and he caught his breath.

"I will always regret exposing everybody to so much danger. The next time you counsel me I will listen."

"All that matters is that you and the Dauphin are safe."

"Thanks once again to you and your friends."

"We were just doing our duty."

She smiled. "I believe there was more to it than that."

"You know I would lay down my life for you and your son."

The sound of someone clearing their throat came from the doorway and they turned, startled. Athos stood there looking disapproving. He bowed to the Queen.

"The Baron is looking for you, Your Majesty. He said to tell you that breakfast will be served on the terrace. Would you like me to accompany you?"

"No, thank you, Athos." She rose to her feet, smiled fondly at Aramis, and left.

When Aramis started to follow her, Athos grasped his arm.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." He dislodged Athos' hand and continued on his way.

"If anyone else had seen the way you were looking at each other there would have been trouble." Athos limped down the hallway after him.

"Calm yourself. We know what we must do but please don't begrudge me a few stolen moments."

"Those 'moments' could get you hanged."

Aramis stopped walking and turned to his friend. "I am well aware of that."

"If you truly love her, you will stay as far away from her and the Dauphin as you can."

"I will endeavour to follow your advice."

"This isn't a game, Aramis."

"Believe me, I know. We should get back to Porthos and d'Artagnan." He hated seeing Athos so worried and knowing he was the cause only made matters worse.

"They're in the kitchen eating breakfast."

"Then let us join them. I'm hungry."

Breakfast was a hurried affair as the Queen wanted to get on the road as soon as possible. When they assembled in front of the chateau she walked out carrying the Dauphin. Marguerite, who still looked miserable, trailed after her. Constance, by contrast, was smiling happily as her eyes sought d'Artagnan. As the Queen drew level with them she stopped.

"Aramis, would you bring the Dauphin to the carriage."

He hesitated only a moment before holding out his arms. She placed the baby in his secure grasp and continued on her way. Aramis looked down. Blue eyes stared back and then the child smiled. He drew in a sharp breath, unable to help the fond smile that illuminated his own face.

"Aramis."

Athos sharp tone brought him back to the present. He followed the Queen and handed the Dauphin to her once she was safely settled in the coach. As he stepped back he reflected that their journey had allowed him to spend time with his love and his son. Once they were back in Paris such opportunities would disappear. Still, he was left with the memories and that was enough to sustain him.

The End