Reign of Fear: Story of French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars (Cantiniére Tales) (33 page)

I turned the sergeant over, and saw he breathed, but he was bleeding from his head and he had a hole on his side that was seeping blood. The trumpet sang again, wailing note trailing across the hills, and I got up, squatted back down, fighting back the urge to piss, which I had already done, happily, and decided I would not leave him, even if I could not easily move him. I tried, but he was so heavy. I had to think of something else.
I acted and prayed for God to help us.

Five minutes later, the uhlans rode up. Their strange shakos with the square tops were bobbing as they rode their strong horses carefully
into sight. One held a trumpet and another rode under the banner, all held their dangerous looking lances up in the air, as the Polish eyes scanned the chaos, lynx-like. I glanced at them in morbid fear, and saw the undisguised anger in their faces as they spied their dead lying around. I held Syphilis, who was groaning, and I prayed he would not come to and speak out, as some of the uhlans dismounted, pulling sabers and holding pistols, stalking around the yard. One stepped next to me, and toed me angrily, as I cradled Syphilis, asking a grunting question I did not understand, the man clearly cursing as more of their men came up, and I saw one was searching the dead chasseur by the stables. The man asking the questions tried to pull me up, but I ripped his hand off me and went back to Syphilis, crying, faking loss and sorrow. I saw them drag the body of the house owner out of the doorway, wearing French sergeant’s habit and hat, which I had swapped between the men. Syphilis would, if I were lucky, survive a cursory inspection, but should they look closer, I would suffer.

The P
ole snorted in anger, and tore at my jacket and shirt, pulling me up as some of his friends laughed. I saw their wolf like faces smile at my distress as the uhlan turned me around, his eyes flickered on my bare shoulder, which I tried to cover up, but he stopped me, shook his head, and pointed at the dead men, asking more very upset questions. One of the uhlans made a lewd gesture my way, and some others nodded in agreement, but I spat to the general direction of French army, uttered something unintelligible, throwing my hand towards south and savagely bent down to cradle Syphilis again, hoping they would believe him my father or relative. I was terrified that there might be someone upstairs or about, someone who saw all that passed, and someone who would saunter out of the house, point a finger at me.

They spoke angrily, kicking at the bodies.
They went about, looting, taking a cow from the stable, but the Pole who had accosted me was still staring at me, and I shook in terror. Then, one of the uhlans walked up, grabbed me, his intent clear from the cruel laughs, but the Pole, who had tried to address me, pushed him away, grunting and the men around went quiet, displeased. He kneeled before me, raised my chin, nodded at Syphilis, and shrugged. He was sorry. He was the commander, his title rittmeister of the squadron and got up to kick his unruly men into order. Soon, they mounted and the officer pulled before me and handed me a dead chicken, nodding as he offered it, and I took it, and nodded back, grateful. He grinned handsomely and they rode off, carefully eyeing the countryside for our men, as they prodded south.

It was near night when I drove a small, stolen wagon to the camp. The battalion had bivouacked, and I saw no guards, though they were there, for hundreds of men were lying about. I found our company soon from the jumble of haphazard makeshift shelters, by asking for directions, and what I noticed made my hair
stand out. Henri was standing before Laroche and the wounded chasseur, screaming like a wild creature. The company was arranged around him, all looking on as Laroche sweated and prayed, for never was there a more terrible threat to one’s life as a man like Henri jumping before a man, like a man-eater from ancient tales.

‘You left her there? Really!’ Henri was screaming as I guided the wagon forward.

‘We thought she was going to follow us, sir!’ Laroche said, miserable.

‘And there were uhlans up there? You thought, maybe they would kindly enough give
her bouquet of flowers, some fine perfume, dress her up in a silken finery and escort her here? Are you a fucking coward or just a fucking idiot? And my sergeant! Where is he? And the corpse! Not to mention my fucking lunch, which you admit was there, tottering around on spindly legs, but I do not see it. You left her there!’

‘There is no excuse, citizen captain, other than confusion,’ Laroche was mumbling and I felt sorry for him, and even more sorry for mother, who spied me at the same time with Marcel, and both
held their chests while gaping in happy disbelief. Men started to turn our way, but Henri did not notice in his unholy rage.

‘In an ancient army, boys, you would be stripped naked as the day you were born, yes you would. Then we would pour honey on your damned anus and sit you down on an anthill and you would get up when there was no anus left. I’d make sure of it. Alas, we do not have honey, so I will just hang you and if Chambon wishes to bury you as they follow us, he is welcome to. I…’

‘Sir?’ I called out.

‘Yes?’ he said, annoyed at being interrupted and his eyes went round from joy as he saw me there, though he sobered quickly eno
ugh as men snickered at him. Mother ran at me, screaming happily and the only ones not smiling were Thierry and Vivien, who were whispering in disappointed tones on the side. I spat at their direction. The captain was tapping his foot and Laroche’s eyes were bulging as he stood in attention, yet trying to gape at me.

‘Well?’ the captain asked, expecting an answer.

‘I got lost,’ I told him. ‘Couldn’t get back before lunch. Had to save the sergeant and gather the stock from the woods.’

‘But you have my lunch?’ Henri asked and the company laughed.

‘These are prime stakes,’ I said and patted one of the uhlan horses I had managed to hide in the woods just before the rest of the enemy arrived. ‘Their saddles are at the back, worth some to the cavalry, perhaps. Behind the wagon, a pig and a cow, both very unhappy for the late trek through the hills and there will be good wine, delicious sausages, spiced beef, German beer, lots of eggs, and other things in the wagon. Many things there, in fact, my friends, everything I managed to drag and throw to the bushes before the uhlans came.’ Vivien was looking on from the side of Thierry, whispering as men surged around the wagon, and I pulled out the chicken, its dead eye regarding me accusingly, and I felt sorry for the creature. ‘The lunch, sir, though it is dinnertime, no?’ He grinned and I eyed Laroche, who looked down, ashamed beyond speech. ‘There is one wounded sergeant back there too and you have to be careful with him, for I hurt him when I pulled, pushed and pried his carcass over the food, it was hard work.’ The men were carefully pulling Syphilis out of the cluttered wagon, while gazing at me with wonder as Syphilis groaned in pain and I smiled, for he had hope to survive his ordeal, being a hardy man. The men cheered me, happy, hugely happy and impressed, all babbling about the stuff Syphilis had been lying on. ‘You had better climb on,’ I told her and slapped the wagon’s seat. ‘I risked a lot by hiding these from the Austrians, or rather the Poles.’ She smiled and shook her head in wonder.

‘And Laroche?’ asked Marcel from the captain, who glowered at the fat man.

‘Hangs, nothing is different,’ he said darkly.

‘Laroche and that one,’ I said evenly, ‘fought and killed several uhlans, even surprised. They thought Syphilis dead, lost and told me to follow. It is my fault. You can, perhaps, blame him for abandoning the chicken, though.’ They laughed, the men did and I was so happy, for I loved them, they apparently loved me and the filthy men felt like family, for the first time, but not the last. Captain took Laroche by ear, whispered some nasty words to his ear and then kicked him off, and the wounded chasseur apparently took his first breath in a long time, as they would apparently not have to decorate a bough, after all.

Marcel appeared, pulled me down, and hugged me fiercely, and I did not mind it. He whispered to me: ‘we will make sure Laroche gets thin for what he did, but if it is any condolence, he cried of shame, the fat man did.’

‘He saved my life too, so I forgive him.’

‘Jeanette!’ Henri yelled. ‘So there are Austrians out there?’

‘Uhlans, Poles,’ I said and the men frowned while ordering wine and brandy from my mother, who was suddenly in a
terrible hurry, unable to serve the multitude of demanding voices. I glanced at Vivien whose face was green from jealousy, and felt sorry for her, for none of this was truly her fault. She gazed at me and turned away.

H
enri grunted. ‘Jeanette, would you join me for dinner and tell me more of the uhlans?’ he asked carefully and eyeballed my mother. ‘The least I can do, Madame Baxa. She saved one of my men.’

Henriette
pulled Marcel to the wagon and ordered him to take over, his face a mask of desperation in midst of the clamoring company and she came to Henri and smiled like a mother smiles at unsavory men wooing one’s daughter. Then she started to urgently whisper something to Henri, whose face twitched with amusement as he answered with apparent calm and respect. Henriette quit whispering, walked by and nodded at me. ‘Make sure you do nothing with that man, except eat well, pray and talk. He promised me he would attempt nothing.’

‘Mother! After all, I am grown up…’

‘You,’ she poked me, ‘are a woman. A fool. I told him you have some strange rotting disease from the Temple, anyway. Remember also that you are a soldier.’

‘You did not!’

‘I did!’ she hollered, and walked away briskly, for Marcel was entirely overwhelmed, unable to serve the men as they demanded, men who especially begged for wine. I smiled at that for I had kept one bottle for myself.

Later, I entered the captain’s tent, where he was sitting on the table, relaxed in his shirtsleeves and I produced the local red wine, which he took gingerly, as if holding an excellent price. ‘Your mother threatened to kill me if I so much as made a vulgar joke.’

‘Oh Henri,’ I said, like a fool, smiling fondly. ‘I love coarse jokes.’ I was not sure what they were like in the army, but I was determined to be happy and I was too excited to be ashamed by anything I said. ‘Did she make foolish notions that I might… for I do not!’

‘They all say things like that to lecherous older men, Jeanette, mothers do.’ He grinned,
and I was sure he was flirting as he opened the wine, and then he served delicious chicken and well-cooked cabbage to battered tin plates, and gestured for me to take a seat, following suit. Later that night, I was drunk and in fact, I realized, I had never been drunk. It was amusing, liberating and strange, and only somewhere, very far in the back of my mind, I knew I should be careful. Henri was polite as a noble to a lady and grateful for the fare and my services that day, a bit drunk as well yet tough as nails as he described his hatred of Chambon, after I had made a horrible imitation of the fat buffoon.

Henri laughed, languid and happy. ‘That a creature like him would choose the army, is beyond me.
The fat bastard was a horrible lieutenant, you know that? Useless one. Then, his brother, a Girdonist, apparently farted an order and made strange magic and so this useless piece of lard received the captaincy of the depot company, where he created unspeakable chaos, to the degree that none wanted to admit it was our depot company and we had to retrain all the men who went through there. Then came the terror, and in this regiment, Jeanette, four out of six captains were sent to Paris for consultations that turned out to be executions and Chambon appeared and took over the elite carabinier company! We received new captains from different brigades, thanks to Paris, most of whom were peasants with hay still sticking from their bleeding boots, and when the colonel was finally taken away, Chambon was raised to the spot, and that, my girl, is magic that is hard to fathom. Corrupt fucking system. I was kicked down from the staff to captain of a company, but I do not mind, for I get to do some real fighting. I love to fight, yes I do.’

I giggled at his anger. ‘Marcel said the captain of this company was a…’

He waved his hand, lazily, apparently having fond memories of the late captain. ’Freckles? A nice man, hated the Jacobins, but no nice men are to lead a band of cutthroats. The second company was merged with the fifth after the losses in the Sergosi battle, it was that bad, and the captain of the fifth, this pleasingly kind man Freckles, well; he got many men killed with him. The captain was a miller!’ he said, tearing at chicken bone, lounging in his chair, relaxed. Outside, someone was singing, and the mood was carefree, happy. He looked alarmed as he ogled at me, mid chew on the bone. ‘Do not take me wrong. I have nothing against peasants or millers.’

‘Really? A noble with illusions of equality?’

He laughed harshly. ‘There are, dear, wild wolves and tame sheep, and nobles are of the former. I am a wolf indeed, but I do not hate the sheep, even if I devour one occasionally.’

I sipped wine cautiously, for my head swum, and I was giggling a bit too much. God, I had forgotten everything I had promised and endured, imagine that, love, and I wanted to be a sheep he
ravenously devoured. I was a slut, dear. I wanted him, and did not understand what I was doing, confused as a colt running around a meadow, little heeding I might break my leg on a hole, yet, I wanted to pull his strings a bit, first. ‘It seems the sheep have tethered the wolves in France.’

He scowled at me, clearly unhappy with the turn of the discussion, but did not back down. ‘Indeed. Yet, the sheep have mostly eaten the other sheep. We, the nobles have lost our
lofty titles and much of our wealth, but the damnable fighter is still here, the spirit that made us nobles to begin with is still mighty strong throughout the class and most people killed by the mad degrees of the Public Safety apparatus are people like you, merchants and peasants. Did you truly like the queen?’