Chapter Seven

They had been roughly grabbed in the early hours, both men were unshackled and pulled up to stand. D'Artagnan had grabbed Aramis' arm when the marksman had sagged slightly. Aramis knew he would not be much use at the exchange, he was leaning heavily on d'Artagnan for support.

Bret had enjoyed hitting him again when the last man had died the previous day. The old man had lingered, he had talked to Aramis right up to the point of his death. Aramis had felt quite sad when the man died, not because he knew he would get another beating or that d'Artagnan's life was in further danger because of it. He had grown quite fond of Marc, they had conversed several times about their lives.

When Bret had been informed of the death he had hauled Aramis out of the tent, thrown him to the ground and kicked him several times. Aramis had realised, as he lay gasping for breath, that the gangs leader had been holding back up to that point. The marksman did not think he had any broken ribs, but he was now in a far worse state than when they had first been captured.

They were marched, Aramis being dragged most of the way, towards several horses. Unable to prevent the whimpers of pain Aramis was manhandled onto one of the horses. D'Artagnan mounted up behind him. Manacles, with a chain between the cuffs, were attached to d'Artagnan's left wrist, and Aramis' right wrist.

'Don't want my prises getting away, now do I,' said Bret winking at them both as he took the horses reins.

As the horses moved forward together Aramis realised d'Artagnan was already holding him firmly in place, the young man was clearly worried that he may not remain conscious for long.

'I'm not going to pass out yet,' said Aramis quietly, he did not want Bret to hear.

'Good, we've lasted this long, just stay awake until we are safe.'

'I shall, then I intend to sleep for a week.'

'I'm going to eat, the finest meal I can afford.'

MMMM

Athos watched as Treville, Porthos and two other Musketeers reached the centre of the clearing. Bret and a small group approached them. He could make out Aramis and d'Artagnan sharing a horse, they were manacled together. Aramis was sporting several bruises to his face and looked haggard. D'Artagnan was not much better, he had bruising around his neck and seemed a little jumpy as the horses were brought to a stop. The leader of the gang said something to them and d'Artagnan dismounted before helping Aramis down. Aramis was leaning heavily on d'Artagnan.

Treville walked his horse forward towards Bret, the bag with the ransom money hanging from his saddle. Bret indicated for d'Artagnan and Aramis to go, d'Artagnan did not need telling twice he moved off, practically dragging the marksman with him. Athos moved forward, he wanted d'Artagnan and Aramis to see him and head in his direction.

The two captives stumbled their way across the clearing towards him as the money was handed over to Bret behind them. Athos watched for Treville's signal, Bret opened the bag and looked inside. As he looked back up, his face angry Treville yelled. The waiting Musketeers surged forward. Athos ran towards his friends grabbing Aramis from the other side and guiding the exhausted men to the relative safety of the woods.

As they moved, Athos spotted a man running at them. He twisted around pulling his gun at the same time. He fired, hitting the man square in the chest, the man stumbled forwards a few more paces before crashing to the ground. The man was still alive, although he would not be for long. He was trying to aim his gun in their direction. Athos took a few steps forward and kicked the attackers gun from his hands. As the man died a look of disappointment flashed across his face.

Athos returned to d'Artagnan and Aramis, grabbing the marksman again and helping his friends to get away from the battlefield.

MMMM

Porthos was sickened at the sight of his friends. Aramis looked like he was about to pass out, he had clearly been beaten several times. D'Artagnan had bruising around his neck which could only have been caused by someone trying to throttle him. It took a lot of the big musketeers will power not to react in haste and shoot Bret. He had to wait until his friends were out of the way, he watched as d'Artagnan helped the ailing marksman across the clearing towards Athos.

Treville had handed over the fake ransom, their ruse was about to be found out. Bret looked up at them with anger in his eyes, Treville yelled. The Musketeers rushed forward with speed, the men Bret had hidden on the other side of the clearing doing the same. Porthos made a lightning calculation and realised they were slightly outnumbered, which in Porthos' mind made them evenly matched.

MMMM

Treville pulled his gun and fired at the first man who attacked him, the man slumped sideways off his horse, a wound to his head taking him out of the fight permanently. The gun spent Treville flipped it over and used it to club a man who was trying to pull him from his horse, a swift kick saw him stumble backwards and be trampled by the first man's horse.

He drew his sword and dismounted in one fluid movement, two men attacked him, he easily engaged both. To his left Porthos was already off his horse and had made quick work of a weedy gang member before turning his attention to Bret who tried to fend of the furious musketeer from the top of his horse but found himself very quickly on the ground. Porthos paused long enough for the gang leader to regain his footing and draw his sword. Porthos was, on occasions, chivalrous, he wanted the fight to be even. At least to start with.

Returning his attention to the two men in front of him Treville feinted to the right before bringing his main gauche forwards and parrying the thrust that came from one of the men. The move left the man exposed, Treville sliced across his side eliciting a yelp from the man as he collapsed. The second man tried to take advantage and moved to strike Treville only to find the parrying dagger in his stomach.

Around him his men were easily overwhelming their enemy. Treville only needed to lend a hand a couple of times. He counted three men with injuries, none of which appeared to be serious. As the enemy's numbers dropped the Captain spotted a few retreating, he nodded towards some of his men who were nearby, they quickly remounted and followed.

He turned his attention back to Porthos and Bret. Bret appeared to have been trained in the art of swordsmanship. He was efficient with his weapon. But he was beginning to tire. Porthos, who wielded a slightly heavier sword, was able to bring it to bear with bruising strokes. Several times Bret had been forced back a couple of paces.

The man tried to take advantage when Porthos brought his arm to the side to swing at him. Porthos anticipated the attack and pulled Bret's sword away with his main gauche opening the man up for the fatal sword thrust that followed. Porthos pushed the sword deep into the man's guts. Bret coughed up blood almost immediately, making a choking sound as he did so. His sword and parrying dagger swung limply as his arms went slack. He stared at Porthos for a few seconds as the light faded from his eyes.

The last thing the man heard was Porthos' voice.

'That's for hurting us…'

MMMM

'They will be fine, let's worry about you two first,' said Athos as he watched d'Artagnan looking back towards the fight.

He had managed to manoeuvre them both to sit on the ground, leaning against the trunk of a large tree. Aramis was very unfocused and had allowed himself to be sat down, the man was close to passing out. D'Artagnan was a little edgy, full of energy after their escape. Both men had lost weight, they were filthy and had clearly suffered during their captivity.

'D'Artagnan?'

The young man finally looked at Athos, blinking to maintain his focus.

'There is water in the bag,' said Athos nodding towards the bag lying at the side of them.

D'Artagnan pulled out a water skin and after slaking his own thirst held the skin to Aramis lips. The marksman took a drink with a nod of thanks.

'Where are you hurt?'

'It's just bruising,' replied Aramis.

D'Artagnan nodded his agreement when Athos looked at him for confirmation of the marksman's assessment of his own injuries. Athos noticed both men were shivering, he reached over to the bag and pulled out a couple of blankets he handed one to d'Artagnan who looked at him blankly.

'Do I need to tell you what to do with a blanket?' asked Athos, 'you're shivering. When did either of you last eat?'

He watched as his friends exchanged a glance, d'Artagnan looked away his eyes watering as he did so. Athos looked back at Aramis.

'There was a young lad at the camp…' started Aramis, pausing whilst Athos helped him to lean forwards long enough to wrap the blanket around him, 'he smuggled us food. Bret found out and had him hanged…we were forced to watch.'

Athos shook his head, he hated to imagine what his friends had been through. The sounds of swords and gunshots gradually diminished until they could hear only one fight, that too ended. The silence that followed was deafening.

MMMM

Once the key to the manacles had been retrieved from Bret's body and the two former captives released, it had been an uncomfortable journey back to the Musketeers camp. Porthos had insisted that Aramis ride with him, the marksman was unconscious by the time they arrived. Between them Porthos and Athos had stripped Aramis and cleaned him up. It was only then that d'Artagnan saw the true extent of his injuries.

'I didn't know he had been beaten that badly…'

'He is a good actor, he hides injuries well, you know that,' said Athos as they watched Porthos cleaning their friend up.

'Bret had him working in the infirmary,' said d'Artagnan, 'whenever a man died, and they all died, Bret was beating him.'

'How did you come by the bruising on your neck?' asked Athos.

D'Artagnan did not want to respond but Athos was not going to let his remain quiet, 'after they hanged Samuel, his brother attacked us, he blamed us for his brother's death.'

Athos put his arm around d'Artagnan's shoulders and gave him a brief hug.

'Why didn't Bret attack you? Play you off against each other?' asked Porthos as he and Athos redressed the unconscious marksman.

D'Artagnan again did not want to answer but knew he would have to.

'Bret threatened to give me to some of the men, who wanted to…to…'

Athos nodded that he understood, Porthos shook his head in disgust.

MMMM

Porthos helped Aramis to sit up, the marksman was pale but appeared more alert than the previous couple of times he had regained consciousness.

'You gonna stay awake this time?'

Aramis managed a smile and nodded. Porthos gave him the water skin and watched to ensure the injured man drank enough. When Aramis had had his fill Porthos picked up a cup of broth he had been keeping warm by the fire. Aramis managed to take the cup, using both hands, and sip the warm liquid.

'This is good, you didn't make this did you?' asked Aramis managing a grin.

Porthos smiled, 'no, Pierre cooked it up.'

Aramis looked about, Porthos followed his gaze towards the sleeping form of d'Artagnan.

'He feels guilty that you were beaten so much. We've tried to tell 'im not to be, that you were protecting him from a far worse fate.'

'I know, I didn't want to tell him what Bret had threatened to do. I knew he would offer to do it.'

Porthos understood what Aramis meant, they would each be prepared to sacrifice themselves for another.

'He'll come around. You know Athos did the same thing.'

Aramis looked at him confused.

'His fever. Right after you were taken away he collapsed. I 'ad to carry him out of the wood.'

'Why didn't he say?'

'Because he didn't want you two to be worrying about him. He wanted you to concentrate on looking out for yourselves.'

Aramis sighed, 'we've been busy with the self-sacrifices and deceptions for the sake of others, haven't we?'

'It's what we do.'

The End

Authors note: Thanks for all the great reviews. I hope you enjoyed it.