Reign of Fear: Story of French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars (Cantiniére Tales) (16 page)

BOOK: Reign of Fear: Story of French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars (Cantiniére Tales)
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‘I…’

‘He is proud,’ Marie-Louise
defended his benefactor as she grasped my hand. ‘The National Guard failed to stop the Parisian rabble from marching to Versailles, but they are to take after them. I am afraid to go alone.’

She had helped me
in my hour of terrible need, and I wanted to return the favor. Mother listened and argued stubbornly, but let me go. I saw Camille look after us from his kitchen, nodding at Marie-Louise, smiling at me. We needed a protector, and I liked Camille.

We hitched a ride from a
dung-smelling peasant and took the road out of Paris. It felt like a pleasant picnic as we sat on the rough wagon, speaking about things girls talk about, and the peasant, an old grizzled man was snorting to himself as he was smoking a foul smelling pipe. Other than the smell of dung and pipe, we enjoyed the cleaner air, the beautiful fields full of hay, inviting greenery of the small forests, and the blissful song of birds. I had not been out of the city, not ever and it was both unsettling and adventurous. When we got to Versailles, terrific chaos greeted us.

Versailles was a town created
exclusively to serve the opulent, corpulent court. The corrupt court, dear, used a huge chunk of the country’s budget. Here, the well-stocked shops were pretty, people fair and chubby-cheeked, well dressed. We saw the magnificent palace itself, a sprawling thing with fine balconies, decorative crenellations, beautiful walkways, and high, gilded gates. As the unruly Parisians had ransacked many unfortunate shops and private homes in the town, the grim Flanders Regiment was deployed behind the gates on the courtyard, warily eyeing the restless mob as it waited for the nervous envoys to come out of the palace. Mirabeau was walking with the Parisians, laughing, agreeing with the washerwomen and their simple opinions, and playing the crowd. The old noble was very good at what he did. I saw a nervous man, with fine clothes, and realized it was Maximillien Robespierre, the friend of Camille’s. He was listening to some drunk artisans complain, he was rocking his head, but not saying anything.

Masses and masses of people were standing outside the gates. We hopped down from the cart, and began to look for Maillard. We toured the
chaotic outer groups, asking for him, and entered some of the finer side buildings of the palace. One thing amazed Marie and me about the palace.

Despite the
finest marble and glittering metal etchings of the doors, it stank. Just like Paris. Versailles, the king’s abode smelled of rancid shit. The grand envy of all the other monarchs was a festering cesspit, rarely cleaned. Deathly cold at winters, sweltering with heat and annoying flies in the summer, we saw that the splendor was hard to upkeep, dirt, and grime covering unattended walls and floors.

Thus, we came to see Maillard, standing
lazily near the gates, and we went to him. He had a matted, dirty hair, brutish look on his face under his tall felt hat. He boasted a scar received in Bastille, and always wore a grey coat, no matter the weather. He looked down at us, as we gave him the letter. He casually opened it up, looking at the busy courtyard, where five women were walking back from a meeting with the king. They were carrying the sixth, who had fainted from ecstasy when confronted by the royals. Maillard was snickering at the sight. ‘They collapsed, no doubt,’ he grumbled, as he eyed the letter. He glanced at us, thinking. The crowd of thousands looked on in confusion, as the six flustered women who had met the glittering royals assured that much food was forthcoming, and then left in a hurry, for they had already received their portion. Maillard nodded. ‘I will make sure we stay here, and tomorrow, we raise hell. You two stay here this night. Over there, in that stable.’ He pointed out a white and red building. ‘I will send word tomorrow and you will take it to the man.’

The six women left the crowd confused, but Maillard indeed made sure few left the place. King saw his promises had little effect, and gave
grave words where he agreed to abolish the noble rights, and those of the church, and to agree on ratification of the Declaration of the Rights of Man. Despite this, there was no bread.

Marie and I lay next to each other, eyeing the crowds in the dark. The soldiers who had stood in the royal compound were relaxed, enough so that most withdrew, leaving only the night guards in place. By dark, Lafayette’s National Guard arrived with its lines of uniformed men, but soon left the general screaming as the men mingled
freely with the crowd. By morning, they would all be on our side.

We found it hard to sleep. I had my hand around Marie-Louise, and she snuggled closer to me. She was strangely familiar, like a sister, and we got along very well. She would say something, half drowsy, and I finished it and we giggled.
Such a simple thing, friendship. Night went past, amidst the nervous noises, shrill laughter, and the unkind lice.

Marie-Louis woke me up. It was very early, the sun painting a sliver on the horizon with pale, cold color. It had been raining; we noticed
few small puddles on the pavement. We looked out from the door, where masses of people were still standing around, while many were sound asleep. Marie ran out to fetch bread, and how she managed it, I did not know. She whispered to me as she handed some over. ‘The women had been clamoring all night long. They do not trust the king and the rebellious soldiers who joined us, agreed. The Flanders Regiment had sent men to us in the dark night, promising support, and acting contrary to what their officers had sworn. Some people have gone to the palace through the many side buildings. Maillard sent them there. I saw where they went. Maybe we should go and see if there is anything to eat in the palace?’

‘Maillard wanted us to stay here.’ I said, nervous.

‘We will not go far. Perhaps we eat some of the queen’s famous cake?’

I laughed and agreed. We entered the palace from
a side building, and navigated long servant’s corridors that were empty. We saw we were far from first there, groups of scruffy women were already inside, some crude men too, and a few unruly soldiers. We had passed many tall doors and great hallways, shuffling over marble floors of rosy pink stone, but when we got to the actual palace, opening a door of carved wood, the sight of the painted rooms, decorated to the inch with gold, silver, expensive wood, well, Marie. That just stopped us cold. They were dirty places, but splendid at the same time. We hardly knew how to act, if we were indeed allowed to breath in the rooms so full of gold and glitter, and such high ceilings. We were appalled by the glory of it all, despite the dirt I mentioned. We walked on, hid from some finely liveried servants, and then took an empty stairway up, giggling at some statues that were entirely nude. Up there, things were even more opulent. We both glanced at our clothes, feeling unworthy at being there.

Marie-Louise admired the spacious room we came to, one with ivory white marble and fine, tall doors closed. She curtsied my way and I did the same, and we danced clumsily, pretending to be high and noble.

Then she died.

Gilbert,
fast as a snake, rushed behind Marie-Louise. The hilt of a dagger was bloody as he was wrenching it out of Marie-Louise’s painfully arched back. I backed off, uncomprehending, staring at the boy I used to know. Marie-Louise did not say anything, but pulled a table over her, and fell to the floor, her eyes betraying deep shock, her dirty blond hair getting soaked with her own blood. She was trying to draw ragged breaths. Gilbert turned on me, his eye covered with a black patch, his hair stiff with grime. He was my age, but now he seemed much more, like a foul demon from hell, a creature of pure evil, back from the dark lands of the dead and I was alone with it. ‘Are you alive?’ I whispered, fearing him a revenant, a vengeful ghost.

He nodded
, puzzled for a second. He echoed my voices softly, nodding again slowly, then more empathetically. Then he spoke, his voice grim. ‘You think I am dead man walking? Yes, that is appropriate. Thank you for naming me. The Revenant. Jeanette, my friend. My cousin. Marie-Louise there was the one who helped you that night, no? I knew Marie-Louise, and she did not like me, so I do not really blame her. Well, no more I don’t. I struck and kicked her on the street many times, you see, the beggar tramp.’ I was terrified to the bone. ‘Down there, in the dark?’ he said softly, walking closer to me, ‘there are ghosts. The water, you see, is not always dark, and the well you dropped me in, well, that had such a ghost glow. I freed my legs, because you don’t know how to tie a proper knot, and looked around with my one eye.’ He walked up to me, determined.

I pushed him back, and made a desperate attempt
at reasoning with the undead thing. ‘I regret the night, and your eye was an accident. But you were mad, out of your mind. You spoke harshly of my family, as if we were nothing more than filthy animals,’ I said, a spark of strength in my voice. ‘You tried to…’

He cocked his head, curious at my arguments, at best. There
was little compassion playing on his face, and I lost hope, and went silent. ‘Father told me that is exactly what you are,’ he hissed. ‘Do you know what it was like, to swim forward and deeper, not knowing where it leads, and if you will die there, like that? Suffocating, hands tied? There were rats under water, all around me. However, I found a ragged hole, one that took me out of the freezing water and I slithered along in the dark, amidst shit, old skulls, and rancid bones, for three starving days. You whore.’ He pushed me, and I fell. He kicked me and I swooned. ‘Do you know, how desperate it is to find a way out? I found it only because I hated you. Playing my games all these years, you never understood you should have obeyed me, bitch. But I survived, even if you surprised me.’

‘We were friends!’ I gasped. ‘Gilbert, please!’

He stopped in mid kick and leaned back, staring at Marie-Louise, whose empty eyes seemed to mock him. He walked over to her, and closed the eyes, and held his head in agony, as he wept.

‘Gilbert…’

He held his hand up, as he looked at me. ‘Perhaps, I might have forgiven you for taking my eye. Perhaps. But you tried to kill me. You did.’

‘I was afraid, and you were like Adam,’ I said with a small voice, and his face tightened as I mentioned his name.

He grunted in anger. ‘Adam? Do not mention him to me. I met men down there. Filthy, blood-spattered, degenerate bastards. They helped me. They took the useless eye away, gave me rotten food, it was terrible. But they would only let me up if I did things for them. And Jeanette, I hated you so much, that I did, and thought of this moment. I want to forget, but cannot Jeanette. I want to forget the lot of you and start anew. But before I do, I want to know. What happened to my father, and Colbert? Georges says you shot them. Is that so? Took away my legacy?’

‘You hated
your father or me? Please, Gilbert…’

‘I hate both,’ he said with a hiss.

‘I killed your father, the rapist fuck,’ I told him with surfacing anger, but then I was at loss at what he had said. Georges? I shook my head in confusion and looked at him as he got up, his brow wrinkled. ‘I took your legacy? Adam’s legacy? You look like a boy who still lives that legacy, one of anger and madness, vile thoughts. You used to be better.’

‘I used to be, yes, Jeanette.’
He wiped away his tears, grunted in anger and quickly bent over me. He took hold of my hair, slapped me fully on my back with the dagger hilt, and then sawed swiftly. I screamed as I felt the blade cut to my scalp, and I saw him come up with a hank of bloody hair. No flesh, or skin, but I bled hard.

‘Yes, Georges,’ he told me
casually, taking a ragged breath. ‘Georges needs money, and I will ride in his coat tails, Jeanette. After all, what else did you leave me? I am but a child, they say, but it so happens I have the very thing he needs, con. I will give him the hoard of gold and silver uncle hid well, and Georges will make me a great man,’ he said, as he tucked my hair away. ‘He will give me purpose again and I have ideas that might help him along, even beyond the money. He has one great need, but no means. We have an idea that will make or break him. Before that, I need to forget my filthy family, though in some small way, I am sorry for you.’

I cried for the
stinging pain. ‘Georges would not do this to us.’

He snickered as he
again went on his haunches before me, the dagger glinting redly. My eyes stared at the drops of bright blood falling from it. ‘Georges would not?’ He took mother’s watch out of his dirty pocket, enjoying the confusion playing on my face.

I could not deny it. He had gotten it from Georges.

He grinned sadly at my pain. ‘Oh, you like Monsieur Danton. Many do. He will climb high, and I will climb his shaky ladder while it suits me. Do not blame him, he tried to wheedle the money from you and your useless father, but you made a terrible mess of it. Yes, your father knew. Adam did too. And I know, to your misfortune. I just cannot fetch it, as Georges is keeping an eye on me. However, I will give it to him soon since he arranged this.’ He swiped his hand around the room. ‘The money, my money will be an investment for my new legacy, fine future glory and even greater riches later. But I find myself unable to enjoy such a future when there are people who know what I was. Indeed, if I am to become a Revenant, Gilbert must die. And he cannot die as long as my past is alive.‘

‘Stop this now, Gilbert,’ I begged him, terrified. ‘Come home with us, and let us try to heal. What you did to Marie-Louise is a terrible thing, but we can talk and perhaps find peace.’

BOOK: Reign of Fear: Story of French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars (Cantiniére Tales)
4.67Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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