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Athos’ boots dispersed the water in another puddle and sunk into the mud’s grasp as he took another step toward his new lodgings. He’d settled into the pace of the Musketeers’ garrison soon after his arrival. Within weeks of his relocation to Paris he had selected preferred proprietors from which to purchase his drink. Men who took no notice of him. Places where the patrons were left unbothered and had dark corners he could slump into for hours in the night.
Regardless of how long Athos remained drinking he still needed to navigate back. He was often less cognitive on returning than he had been on going. Staying into the later hours meant he’d consumed a great deal before making his way back to his bed.
The evening’s weather had quickly accelerated from an overcast sunset to sprinkling showers as it grew darker. After numerous glasses the sprinkling turned to steady sheets dripping on the glass and distorting each passerby. The few braving the weather had all but disappeared in the deluge and when Athos had finished his more recent bottle he decided it best to leave before he would be wading back through mud laden streets.
Water poured from the rim of his hat as he slouched back to the garrison.
Relieved when the doorway could be made out through the blowing, cloak-like walls of rain he quickened his pace. The wrought iron braziers struggled to keep lit, flickering wild shapes as they were bent by the wind. Athos took a moment to shelter with them under the high arch. Slipping off his gloves he took advantage of the protection he took off his hat to sweep the wet ends of his hair from where they’d begun to cling to his skin. He observed the empty, mud-puddled yard not at all surprised he was only one to be up this late and out in the storm.
Well, perhaps not the only living creature. He picked up the gleam of two eyes across the yard. In the doorway that led to the barracks Marsac’s black cat had halted whatever exploring it had been up to and stood watching him. He doubted the mischievous little soul was out in the weather to suppress his own miseries as Athos was. Combing his hair again with his fingers he tipped his hat to him and replaced it on his head.
Grateful he’d had the sense to leave the tavern before the storm washed out much of his path back with muck and ankle deep puddling, he did regret cutting his drinking short. He crossed quickly, keeping close to the walls, to move for the arch that sheltered the common room door. Doubting anyone else would wish to be saturated through with the rain tonight he expected the deserted room would remain his exclusively for the late hours.
The room had grown cold, the fire nearly out, but he wasn’t ready for the isolation of his own bed. There were some casks and bottles of brandy on the shelves and he felt a strong desire to just dump his outer clothes and grab a bottle and slouch down in the dark.
It was doubtful anyone would come down, but he figured he should at least take care of the fire. Considering he was chilled from his walk it would be advisable to warm up, even though he felt the alcohol would do a better job.
His traveling cloak thwacked down like a fish to a cutting board when he slung it over a chair and placed his hat on the seat. He removed his weapons and peeled off his doublet to join his cloak. Having shed his outer layers he crouched to stoke the dwindling fire in the hearth. The fire was down to glowing embers so he leaned closer to build it back.
He nearly fell from his squat to his rear when cold, wet fur brushed against his wrist.
Pointy ears appeared in his hand’s path as the cat investigated Athos’ attempt to reignite the flames. Athos was forced to raise his forearm to an awkward angle in order to poke the kindling fire without knocking into the tiny head.
“Unless you’ve a way to stoke this, I’d appreciate it if you would move aside.” He made a gesture with his free hand, but didn’t nudge the cat.
The little face turned to him, fur glistening with droplets stuck to the normally sleek black coat. A mew sounded but was cut off with a shake of head and a whiffled sneeze. The cat sat back, its head following the motion to leave him seated to the side of Athos’ boot.
“Yes, well.” Athos shrugged, one side of his mouth tugging up just a hair. “In a moment we’ll have this going and you can warm up.”
Minutes later Athos was satisfied. The glow and heat from the fire was filling the immediate space and would soon warm the room. He settled back on his heels and eyed the cat. The unhappy cat. The little creature was balanced on his one front leg as he lifted the other to flick the caked mud clinging to his paw. A frustrated warble sounded when the bits of earth failed to dislodge.
“Something about curiosity and cats.” Athos did feel for him though, he’d not expected the cat would risk the weather to follow him in here. On the one hand he wanted to scold the little creature for its investigative nature, but on the other he felt some measure of guilt for providing the temptation. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Stay there.”
When Athos returned he carried a bowl of water and some cloths. The water-logged cat, looking thinner for his soaking, stared up at him. The curious creature sent up a meow. Head perking he nosed the air to identify what Athos carried.
Sinking down Athos extended a hand and slid the bowl between them.
“Come, let’s have your paw.” Athos curled his fingers and waited.
Sitting on his haunches and letting the weight fall to only one leg in front, the cat suspended his dirty paw. Athos dipped and rubbed and washed until the bowl looked like one of the murky puddles outside. Impressed that no claws or complaint issued forth he continued to separate the packed mud and fur. He patted the four clean paws dry and took a clean cloth to run over the cats back and ears, ruffling the fur slightly. “There.”
He took another bundle of linen and arranged it on the floor near the fire to encourage the newly cleaned cat to warm up. No sense having his efforts destroyed should the inquisitive little one slip off. Although given the sounds of the lashing rain on the windows he doubted the cat would be heading anywhere immediately.
Athos was headed for the alcohol. Immediately.
He traded the soiled bowl for a clean, unopened bottle and a cup. Studying the shelves he debated something to eat, but he had little appetite. He was twisting to head back to sit by the fire and sip the brandy when he paused to grab and fill a small bowl from the shelf.
When he returned to the chairs he found the cat reclined on its side, back towards the hearth and tail curled over his hind legs. The amber eyes tracked Athos, watching him set his items down on the bench and pour out a fair amount of brandy.
The cat stretched, its legs fully extended and the claws displayed on the newly cleaned paws. Settling onto the bench Athos kicked his legs out and waited for the fire to thaw him. He sipped at the brandy and watched the cat twist and shift before the warming hearth.
Fortunately the brandy would do the work internally. He took another swallow and closed his eyes in an attempt to both warm himself and banish any thought of his former life.
A pressure on his thigh had him slitting his eyes open. One paw was pressed to his trousers while the other lifted to slide along the fabric.
Athos shook his head down at the staring cat. “I see.”
He placed his cup on his other side and stretched forward. When he dragged his legs back to complete his reach the cat pushed off and dropped back to the floor. A meow sounded in protest.
“Patience.” Athos warned. He could still feel the warmth on the fabric from the fire and the warm body that had lain on it. Shaping the cloth into a lumpy pile on the bench seat he sat back and motioned his hand over it.
With a mew and a happy warbling sound the cat leapt onto Athos’ lap.
Athos frowned at the impertinence. At least he’d set the cup to the side. He tucked his hands under the cat and scooped him up to place in the nest of cloth next to them. “There. Unless you prefer it back on the floor?”
Athos motioned toward his feet to support his warning and whether the cat understood or not it did turn around itself and scratch at the cloth. As the creature fussed and poked the pile Athos recovered his brandy. He watched the little cat and as it swatted the fabric it became clear to Athos what it was attempting to do.
“Very well.” Athos set his brandy to the side. Again.
He waved the cat back, and tugged the fabric directly next to his leg.
Satisfied, the cat padded over and rubbed into Athos’ side before curling onto the soft cloth.
Curled in a semi-circle and on its side the cat’s ears bent where its head tucked into Athos’ thigh. After rolling his eyes, a smile twitched onto Athos’ face and he recovered his brandy.
With the back of his other hand he stroked the curve of the furred back. No longer damp, owed more to the proximity to the fire than his toweling off, the soft coat was still warm. Turning his fingers he stroked the dark fur of its side, carefully avoiding the sensitive underbelly.
The squirming and need to cuddle closer reminded him of a flash of memory. Another time. A time before the memories he was subverting tonight.
“We had kittens when I was younger.” Athos told the bundle of fur. “The cook’s rat-catcher had a litter, she’d secreted them in an outbuilding.”
The cat didn’t move much, a little shift of the head and one ear tilted toward him.
“My brother found them.” Athos’ hand kept up its motion as memories of smaller bundles of fur flashed in his mind. “We visited them, nearly every day once he’d uncovered them. When they were able to move about they followed Thomas everywhere.”
Athos smiled when he thought of those tiny kittens stumbling in the grass after his brother. There was one in the litter that kept back, more cautious and less social. But the entire litter otherwise took off after the young boy and leaped through the high grasses with him.
One afternoon Athos had propped against the outbuilding’s wall to watch Thomas and the kittens plodding through the grass. He’d just been distracted by Thomas plopping to the ground for the kittens to pounce on when he felt something rub along his leg.
The solitary kitten, with help from Athos’ cupped hand, had climbed into his lap. It sat with him all afternoon as the others tore about with his brother. That same kitten would come to seek him out exclusively as a kitten and continued the preference when it was a grown cat. Thomas had teased him over it, but he’d been secretly thrilled the little grey cat liked him best.
Next to him, the black cat emitted a low-level purring.
“Thomas convinced our parents it would be best for the cats that we raise them in the house rather than their sparse nest in the outbuilding.” Athos explained to the cat curled against his leg. While these memories were more pleasant than those of his wife, they were still painful. The happiness of the memories darkened under the shadow cast by his spouse’s actions. “There was little they could deny him. That anyone could.”
Sill, the feel of the cat at his side gave him back the memory of he and his brother during a joyful time, an innocent time.
He was taking another slow sip of the throat warming brandy when the rafters vibrated with strong thunder overhead.
“You’ve never struck me as easily startled.” Athos told the cat now standing on him – two feet on his lap and two paws pressed onto his shirt.
Instead of the expected meow the cat stared back at him. Before Athos could move or speak the tiny nose sniffed at him. And stared.
Athos rolled his eyes and reached for the small bowl he’d filled with scraps, just in case there was a need. “No brandy, but you may have this.”
As he lowered the bowl to set it down the cat chased the motion and nudged his head about the ceramic. Indulging the cat for his unknowing gift of a bright memory he held the bowl up. Until the bowl started rocking in his hand from the tongue chasing residual flavor.
The little cat sat down again, on him. Staring back and licking at his lips in thanks, the cat stood up to reposition itself. Any hope Athos had that the little creature would abandon his lap was dismissed when the cat flopped down and eyed him sleepily.
Considering the cat had traversed the weather and prompted the wispy memory of another cat that had trailed him he decided he could allow the liberty. As the cat began to purr again he resigned himself to the company and consoled himself with another sip of brandy. And petting the cat.
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