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already,” Aramis replied. “Paris will not stand for long.”
    Greg couldn’t argue with that. He staggered to his feet and helped Aramis wake Catherine and Porthos.
    They had just saddled their horses when a voice caught them by surprise. “Where do you think you’re going?”
    It was Athos. Greg was stunned to see him awake, let alone out of bed. Athos looked considerably better—the swelling in his leg had gone down dramatically—although he still seemed drained from his ordeal and needed a crutch to support himself.
    â€œBack to Paris,” Porthos replied, and quickly filled Athos in on what had happened.
    â€œThen I’m coming with you,” Athos replied.
    â€œNo,” Aramis said. “You need to rest. You almost died because you wouldn’t take care of yourself before.”
    â€œAnd now, thanks to D’Artagnan, I’m fixed.” Athos flashed a smile, looking more like his old self than he had in days. “I’m not going to sit here twiddling my thumbs while the rest of you run off to confront Dinicoeur and Milady and Condé. Without me, you’ll all be dead in five minutes.”
    â€œNo,” Aramis repeated. “You might feel better, but you’re not. Not yet. We’ll be all right without you.”
    â€œYou won’t even be able to get back into the city without me,” Athos replied.
    The others looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?” Porthos asked.
    â€œYou can’t simply walk up to the city gates in the middle of a siege and ask to be allowed in,” Athos explained. “The moment anyone opens the gates, the enemy will sweep in. That means you’ll need to use the secret entrances, but you don’t know where they are, do you?”
    Greg frowned in response. The truth was, the map he’d seen had only indicated the approximate locations of the three secret entrances to the city. Finding them, however, certainly wouldn’t be easy. “And you do?” he asked.
    â€œI know one,” Athos replied smugly. “I learned it when I was in the king’s guard. Unfortunately, it’s almost impossible to describe where the entrance is. So I’ll just have to show you.”
    Greg wondered whether this was true. He suspected that Athos certainly could have described the entrance’s location and was merely pretending otherwise so he’d be asked to come along.
    Aramis, Porthos, and Catherine leaned in closely to Greg. “Could he truly be ready to travel so soon?” Aramis asked.
    â€œI suppose,” Greg replied. “I’m not a doctor or anything, but his wound wasn’t really that big. It was the infection that was killing him. And if we took care of that, I suppose he could recover quickly. I’d probably want to spend another few days in bed, but this is Athos we’re talking about.” He pointed toward Athos, who was currently practicing how to sword-fight while using a crutch at the same time. “He certainly seems to be feeling better.”
    Catherine smiled and shook her head in amazement. “Far better than he would if they’d sawed off his leg.”
    Aramis approached Athos again. “All right,” he said. “You can come with us. But promise me, if the exertion starts to make you worse again, you’ll stop. You’re worth far more to us alive than dead.”
    â€œI won’t be slowing anyone down,” Athos said. “If anything, you’ll be slowing me .” With that, he clambered on one of the horses and spurred it on.
    The others raced to their horses and followed. They galloped after Athos, through the camp, and onto the Roman road again, heading north toward Paris.
    As he’d threatened, Athos set the pace, riding hard the whole way. Greg suspected that his friend’s leg was still in great pain, but the swordsman didn’t show it. He didn’t put any weight on it if he could