Breathing

Epilogue: I Promise!

  Porthos clapped together his hands with glee as four pints of ale were placed in front of each of the Musketeers. The ale was soon followed by four large bowls of stew and a large platter of bread and cheese to accompany the stew. "You migh' need to order more, Athos." The large Musketeer laughed. "I coul' eat all this just myself!"

The boys each greedily dig in to their bowls of stew, their hands bumping into each other as they simultaneously reach for the bread. "Mmm, dis isso g'd." d'Artagnan announced with his mouth full of food.

"It sure is, pup." Porthos agreed as he washed his food down with a long swallow of ale. "Ahh, 'at's good ale," the large Musketeer let out a loud belch as he slammed down the mug.

Athos and Aramis shake their heads and roll their eyes at their friend's boorish and shameless table manners. "I sure missed this," Aramis smiled.

"What, Porthos's bad table manners or the brandied beef stew?" Athos stirred his stew around in the bowl before taking a small bite.

"What's the matter" Aramis asked as he noticed Athos's stew had barely been touched. "Aren't you hungry? I thought you wanted real sustenance,as you said earlier."

"It's going to take a while for my appetite to return to normal, 'Mis." Athos forced a smile. "The stew is quite good but I have to eat slowly—my stomach is still not used to solid food."

"Are ya feel'n sick, 'Thos?" Porthos mumbled with his mouth full of bread. "Do you want to go home?"

"No," Athos shook his head defiantly. "No, I'm fine. I want you all to enjoy your supper and your ales. . . I'll just take a little longer enjoying mine." Athos lied as he felt his stomach do flip-flops at the thought of eating much more, especially after over-indulging at lunch.

Suddenly a loud crash startled the four, making them jump. They turned to the yelling and watch with surprise as an angry woman poured a full mug of ale on the head of a man who had just been kissing on a young lady seated at their small table.

"Uh oh," Aramis laughed at the sight. "Looks like the wife caught her man having more than just a drink with the boys after work."

The entire tavern seemed to erupt in laughter as the two-timing husband was drenched with a pint of ale. The young lady at his table ran out of the tavern screaming, causing another roar of laughter.

"Why, you old nag!" The man yelled to his wife as he attempted to slap the mug from her hand, but the sturdy woman kept her hold on the weapon-of-choice and used it to bang him over the head, stunning him.

"Ooh," Aramis drew in a sharp breath through his teeth.

"Damn, 'at had to hurt." Porthos grimaced.

"You wench!" The angry husband cursed as he stood and drew back his fist to hit his wife.

d'Artagnan was on his feet in a flash to intervene but Aramis quickly pulled him back down into his chair. "You haven't learned your lesson, have you?" The medic teasingly scolded.

"What are you talking about?" d'Artagnan snapped in bewilderment.

"Never get involved in domestic disputes." Aramis advised drily. "Especially, never get between an enraged wife and a flirting husband. I thought you would have learned your lesson after the last time you got between a quarreling husband and wife! Remember, after she bit you on the hand as you tried to restrain her?"

"This isn't like when the Bonnaire's were fighting," d'Artagnan countered angrily. "Are we just going to sit here and let him hurt her?"

"Oh, I think she can take care of herself, pup." Porthos chimed in, motioning with his head in the direction of the fighting couple. "Look a' her, she's almost as burly as 'e is!"