Silence followed this pronouncement. Athos' gaze had clouded over, while Porthos looked nonplussed.
"Your father is the General d'Herblay?" said Porthos. "You never mentioned that before…"
Aramis smiled sadly. "That is because I have renounced my father's name and title," he said simply. "I have not been back here since I left at sixteen…" Silence again fell over the group until it was again broken, this time by Athos.
"Your father is the General D'Herblay," Athos repeated stonily. "Why have you never mentioned that?"
"Why do you think? I never mentioned it, because it doesn't matter. He is my father but I am not his son. I left this place and all that went with it behind me long ago," snapped Aramis, storming away from Athos to the periphery of the firelight, his back now to his startled brothers.
"Can someone please explain what's going on?" Porthos asked bluntly, glancing back and forth between Athos and Aramis. Silence sat like a weight between them until Athos, cowed by the fervent, silent plea from Porthos took a deep breath and began:
"What I know are only rumours," he began, "but the General D'Herblay was said to be a powerful man. A much awarded general. He led the French to many victories against Spain and the Huguenots before that. He was reputed to be the mastermind behind some of the greatest military achievements in French history."
"Well that sounds okay –" Porthos began.
Sighing, Athos continued. "Some of the General's decisions during wartime however were called into question. About how villagers were treated. Prisoners. It was more how his men behaved, but he had a reputation for being – "
"-ruthless. Vicious. Merciless," finished Aramis.
"I wasn't aware that he had any children," said Athos quietly.
"He doesn't," whispered Aramis. "Not anymore."
Athos looked at his brother who had returned, taking his seat between them. With an uncharacteristic smile that did not reach his deep, dark eyes, Aramis reached out a hand to give Athos a quick tight squeeze on the shoulder.
"I am sorry, mon ami. I had not expected for this place to have such an effect on me…still… Not after so long…" he said.
Athos nodded, recognizing ghosts similar to his own that seemed now to be haunting his kind-hearted brother. Aramis ran his hand through his rich dark curls, eyes fixed once again on the flames.
"My father," Aramis began, "is a man who gets what he wants. You have probably heard the stories of the battle of Amandie while you were in the Infantry?"
"Ya," said Porthos. "20 Frenchmen managed to drive out an entire battalion to retake the city. They say that battle was the reason why we won that war."
"What they don't tell you about that victory is how the men managed it. They attacked by night. Enemy soldiers had taken over the small town, which was still surrounded by an old Roman wall, impenetrable, save for a single gate. The men crept from house to house on the periphery of the town, coating the foundations with pitch. A fuse was lit and the houses were set to burn," said Athos.
"My father barred the gates and sat there, listening to the men scream while the village burned…" whispered Aramis.
"But the villagers…" Porthos began before a look from Athos cut him off.
"Eventually, they opened the gates. Many of the villagers had taken refuge in the cellar of the church. The remaining soldiers were murdered and their corpses were hung around the city's walls as a lesson," Athos concluded.
"I'm surprised you knew all that," said Aramis slowly.
"My father insisted I have a knowledge of a full military history. He delighted in highlighting anecdotes that he thought would inspire me to be more obedient…" Athos replied.
Aramis grimaced. "I am sorry for that brother."
Athos sighed, "Don't be. I am better for it. If anything, my father's mania helped me to formulate an idea of the type of man to not be."
"Then I think we are the same in that," said Aramis, a sly grin on his face, his eyes alight with the dark fire of his demons. "When I was finally able to flee my father's home, I threw away my name and anything that connected me with that man. I used the name my mother gave me, Aramis, and the compassion she taught me and have lived my life trying to be better, to do good. To help, defend and heal the innocent."