Chapter Twenty

"My friend, it is good of you to visit on the eve of my death."

Aramis placed himself a few inches from the bars of Romero's cell. The man seemed suddenly small, dressed in rags.

"So I am your friend again am I?"

"I am led to believe it is Godly to forgive those who have betrayed you." Though he seemed small, Romero had not lost that calculating look in his eye. "And you did betray me, Aramis."

"I did what was right." He fell on an old mantra.

"No. You chose a side. Ever the King's lapdog." Romero got to his feet and approached the bars. "Their hold on you is great. I thought I had led you to a better path, but their claws have sunk deep into your flesh. I could not free you, and for that I am sorry."

"There is nothing to free me from." Aramis spoke quietly.

"Tell yourself that as you walk the gilded corridors, blind to the hunger of the people in the streets. We could have changed that, Aramis. But you wouldn't let us."

Part of Aramis was beginning to wonder if coming to the prison was a mistake. He had wanted to see Romero before the man was put to death. He wanted to close a door on this whole sorry episode, but instead Romero was turning it around, as he did with everything. Aramis' brothers told him Romero had twisted his mind, and now Romero said they were the ones doing the twisting. He wanted to end this, not sink deeper.

"I was not going to kill for you anymore. Especially not the King." Aramis grit out.

"Why him especially? Why is his life worth more than any of the others you have taken? And you were killing for a better world, not for me."

"I have sworn to protect him."

"They don't care about us!" Romero surged forwards to grip the bars. "You know this! You have lived this! Or have you forgotten those twenty dead men in the forest?"

"I will never forget them!" Aramis growled.

"Then why do you so willingly lay your life down for those who throw it away so carelessly?"

Aramis dropped his head.

"Duty? Orders? That's all you have to offer me, and I know you won't say it. You know how wrong it is. To throw yourself on another's sword, to go against every instinct to live, just on the word of a so called superior." Romero sank back from the bars. His voice turned strangely melancholy. "I am sorry, Aramis. Though I face my end tomorrow, I would rather that than live as you. To be so trapped, so conflicted. I can see it in you. I always could. The thrill of the fight but the guilt of death, how does a man of God do it?"

Aramis was silent in the face of Romero's scrutiny.

And so Romero continued. "Perhaps soldiering was the answer. Orders and duty. Put a certain banner in a man's hand and God will ignore your transgression, is that how it works? It's not like killing the innocent. But in time, perhaps you will come to see, they were all innocent."

Romero came forwards again, but more gently. The scant light from a high window illuminated his features, Aramis looked up and tried to fathom how genuine his look of regret was.

"Oh Aramis... There might be a noose around my neck, but there's a halo around yours. It's slipped from your head. You'll be choked by your own divinity."

At that Aramis stepped back and went to a bag he had brought in. He pulled out a flask and two cups.

"I came to give you a last drink. Think of it as a kindness, like the candles you brought to me."

Aramis sat down to pour out a dark, red wine. Then he pushed one cup towards the cell where Romero could reach it.

Romero took the cup slowly and stared into the depths of the drink before taking a sip. "A kindness."

They sat in silence for a while, Romero sipped his wine while Aramis thoughtfully watched.

"I'm not sure it was a kindness really. To give me a hope that burns out." Aramis ran a finger around the edge of his own cup. "It would have been kinder not to keep me locked up in the dark. Why did you do it?"

"I did not trust you. I needed to trust you."

"There are better ways to gain trust." Aramis spoke bitterly.

"In my time I have seen many ways used to break a man. But I was curious to discover one of the most effective was to put him in a dark room. The mind seems to conjure tortures no other can touch."

"So you intended to break me?"

"Only so that I could rebuild you with truth instead of the lies that had taken root in your heart. I see now I did not dig deep enough. They have grown to bloom again."

"I don't want to be what you made of me."

"But you are. A grain of truth still lives in your chest, you'll never be rid of it."

Aramis met Romero's eyes. "I once told you I stepped on a dying bird. It was a mercy killing, but it robbed me of sleep. This feels the same. Whatever you did is falling away. I'm smothering it, though it is hard."

"And there is more than one dying bird to put out of its misery." Romero drained his cup and pushed it away. "Aramis, I can't help but notice you haven't touched your drink."

He did not smile, he simply kept his eyes locked on Romero as he pulled a familiar, now empty, vial from his pocket. Aramis wordlessly set it down next to his full cup.

"I wanted it to be me." There was no emotion in his voice at all. "After all you've done, I wanted to be the one who killed you. And I wanted you to know it was me, as you spent your last few hours in agony."

Romero simply smiled. "Thank you."

Aramis frowned slightly.

"Thank you, my friend. You have saved me from the noose, from the spectacle, the indignity. You have shown me mercy."

No… this was not a mercy killing!

Was it?

Had that other half of him tainted his actions with some wayward influence? Would it have been better to let Romero hang?

Aramis got to his feet. "Know that I did not do this to save you."

"And yet I am saved."

"Saved only to rot in hell."

"Perhaps I will do better at the devil's side. I have come to wonder what sort of a God would let us live in a world like this. Is he like the rest of them? Does he see and not care? Or perhaps he lives in fear of his own creation. We have done such terrible things, maybe he can no longer bear to look at us. What do you think, Aramis, is he callous or a coward?"

"I think you should spend your last hours praying for his forgiveness."

Aramis threw the wine out of his cup and put them away in his bag. He watched the tainted red liquid drain away through the flagstones.

"Goodbye, Romero."

He realised then, the only ending he would get was to walk away and not look back. Aramis closed the door on Romero's last words. They went unheard. Perhaps in that he found his victory.

~oOo~

Aramis had returned to the garrison to sit at their usual table. It was quiet, with all others out on their duties. He stared into nothing, expressionless, deep in thought. Until the sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention.

Athos slid onto the opposite bench, Aramis gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. They sat in silence a while, until it turned from companionable to oppressive.

"What troubles you?" Athos ventured.

Aramis smiled bitterly. What didn't?

"Nothing, just raking over recent events."

"Well, it will all be over tomorrow. You can put this behind you."

"There'll be no hanging tomorrow." Aramis looked away with a shade of guilt.

Athos narrowed his eyes. "What did you do?"

Murder. A mercy killing. What was it? Of course Romero would send Aramis into turmoil by embracing him in those last moments. He should have expected it.

But whatever his intention, the effect was still the same.

"I cannot say."

"Aramis." The name was said with exasperation.

"You already carry enough of my secrets. Let this one be." His eyes seemed to plead with Athos.

"I told you not to see him." Athos had already put two and two together.

"I had to, at least I thought I had to. Now I'm not so sure. There are never any answers, only more questions... more confusion."

"And that is what he does to you. That is why I told you to stay away."

"Perhaps I should have. But in the end, despite everything, I chose a side."

"And what side did you choose?"

Aramis met Athos' eyes. "Yours."

~oOo~

The next day the musketeers joined the gathering crowds before the scaffold. The heavy rope didn't swing an inch in the slight breeze. Porthos had a hand to Aramis' shoulder as they watched an official climb the steps.

"There will be no hanging today." The man announced. "The prisoner has escaped rightful justice. His body was discovered in his cell this morning."

A discontented murmuring set up amongst the crowd. Porthos' hand tightened.

"Somebody must have got to him." Porthos growled. "To die just before your sentence is carried out…"

"Looks suspicious." d'Artagnan agreed.

"Whatever the case, Romero is dead. Whether at the end of the noose or in his cell makes no difference to me." Athos gave a pointed look towards Aramis, who was still staring fixedly at the scaffold. "As it is nearing time for lunch, I suggest we make for the nearest tavern, eat, and raise a glass to his passing."

Whether it was the thought of food, or a distraction for Aramis, Porthos quickly agreed.

However d'Artagnan seemed a little more resistant to Athos' changing of the subject. "Do you think there will be an investigation?"

"Unlikely. The man was going to die one way or another. In any case, he died in his cell on the prison guard's watch. If there's any investigating to be done, they can be the ones to do it. I suggest we wash our hands of this whole business. Now, shall we?" Athos waved his hand in the direction of the tavern.

Once again Athos found himself covering for Aramis. Fortunately it came across as distracting him from his woes rather than distracting others from his commission of murder. Although Aramis hadn't admitted it, it was all too clear what he had done.

"Aramis?" Porthos tugged at his arm.

"Hm?" He broke his fixed gaze from the scaffold and seemed to come back to himself.

"We're off to the tavern. Are you coming?"

"Oh, of course."

They set off as a foursome, but as they made their way along the street Athos gradually hung back with Aramis.

Athos lowered his voice. "I need to make sure. They know you visited, so if people start looking… Is everything disposed of?"

The cups, the wine, the vial. All gone.

"Yes. I only visited to talk."

"Good. Keep it that way."

As they joined the other two, Porthos slung an arm around Aramis' shoulders. "It's all over. That wretch is out of your life and you're free. Now that's something to drink to!"

And yet, it didn't quite feel over. Aramis supposed he would always embody the conflict Romero spoke of. The devout killer. And though he had chosen his side, he had seen with his own eyes the indifference of the monarch. There was a shade of truth to Romero's words. But Aramis had chosen his side, and he would stand by it until his dying day. And when that day came it would be for God to judge him.

With every step away from the scaffold and towards the tavern, Aramis' heart seemed to lighten. He slipped back into their banter and everything else slipped away. In this moment, at least, he could be free. With the help of his brothers, he would be free. When Aramis was unsure of so much in the world, he was sure of one thing: They cared for each other, even if nobody else would.

As they neared the tavern Aramis ground to a halt. A smile spread across his face. There in the street stood a woman with a very familiar horse. Hawthorn. Romero said he had sold the horse to a woman. She was deep in conversation with another, smiling, laughing.

"Look at him, back to his old ways already." Porthos gave a nod to Aramis.

"For once, it's not the lady I'm interested in." He clapped Porthos on the back before jogging over to the couple. "Mademoiselle, that's a lovely horse you've got there!"

Our parting was like a stalemate.
Neither of us won. Yet both of us lost.
And worse still...
That unshakable feeling that nothing was ever really finished.

Note: And so this is where we draw to a close. A heartfelt thanks to all who have commented, favourited and followed. Especially those who have been with me every step of the way with comments and support, it is very much appreciated :)

Quote is by Ranata Suzuki.