Reign of Fear: Story of French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars (Cantiniére Tales) (43 page)

He nodded at my clothes. ‘Dress,’ he said harshly with a note of distress.

I did, looking at the man, who was wiping sweat off his face. He stole glances my way, but apparently, he was not going to do what Voclain had done, being a different kind of man. He looked indecisive, unsure, but then he evidently made up his mind, as he opened Voclain’s pockets, stole a fistful of coins and a cheap watch. When I was done dressing, he got up, he took the halter resolutely and cursing, picked up the fallen letter, and strode off, pulling me around and after him.

I protested, but he scoffed. ‘Silence. You are still going to Gilbert Baxa, and I think he will be grateful, no matter who brings you. I will tell him Voclain tried to kill you.’

‘Why did you not let him…’

‘I might be a sans-culotte, but I respect women. He and I, it is time to part ways, but it is a risk, girl, risk for me and you both and you should be happy it was not Thierry or Fox with him this night. You would have been double or thrice fucked, and it would have happened all the way to Paris, until you were
entirely humbled and broken forever. But you saved me once and so I spared you, for no woman should endure something like that animal. I, for some reason, doubt Gilbert Baxa will do anything of the sort, for he seems to be carved from a frozen oak, likely unable to fuck anyone.’

He pulled me along, and soon, we came to a smaller
cattle road leading to the main roads to Nice. He pushed me to a shabby barn, threw me down on a tall peasant wagon, tied me roughly down on the bed of the creaky thing, loaded packs supplies over me and off we went. We drove all that cold night and pale morning as he brutally whipped his horses. I begged to be relieved, but he did not stop, cursing, worried, and the wagon jumped up and down, and finally, I had to piss under myself. He grunted in disgust and stopped the wagon.

‘Now you stop? I am done,’ I told him bitterly.

‘I have to go,’ he mumbled. ‘Sorry for the discomfort, girl.’

I arched my neck
to look in his eyes. ‘Henri would give you position, Didier, rank. Trust. Get me away.’

He took a shuddering breath. ‘
Henri is dead, fool. Besides, I have some starving family, and I have to help them as well. I do not like your cousin, for I have heard enough of him to make me sick. I love the Republic and I think I am doing it ill favor by helping this Gilbert, but I have loved my family before Republic. They need favors and coin.’

‘There will be men on the roads, and they will stop you,’ I said, hoping it were true.

He waved the letter. ‘Here, the stamps and signatures of an influential man and I have a pass of leave. I doubt they will dare. And make clamor and I will risk injury to you as I make sure you stay silent.’

And then, men rode up on clattering horses.

I heard the horses whinny as Didier turned to regard them. ‘Help!’ I yelled, risking the injury he had threatened me with and Didier slumped, as the horses got closer.

‘Who is that?’ a voice asked, and I laughed for while most any other soldier would have obeyed the paper now hanging limply on Didier’s hand, lieutenant Boulton would not.

‘Lieutenant,’ Didier said, carefully.

‘Pull a gun on him!’ I screamed and saw Didier grab a musket, snake fast.
I thumped myself on the seat he was sitting at and while the move held no force, it made him spend a second as he glanced my way and he cursed as he got up with the musket swinging for the riders. Then, a shot, and I was splattered by blood as the man twitched to death on the bench, his skull broken by a ball. Syphilis rode his horse clumsily next to the wagon and gaped at me, a pistol smoking in his hand.

‘Citizen Boulton! It’s Jeanette!’ Syphilis said, full of wonder and then Boulton’s boyish, yet grim face came to sight.

‘God! It is her!’ He said, gawking at my condition. They untied me, gave me water, Syphilis hugged me awkwardly, for he did not really know me that well, same as Boulton, but they were our family, I was theirs and I told them everything. They stared at me in disbelief as I cried over our friends.

‘It is terrible,’ Boulton said. ‘Captain could be dead? Skins and Humps? Charles.’

‘Colonel,’ I corrected him. ‘And Laroche, Marcel. I do not know!’

‘I don’t know this Laroche and the privates, I am sorry, but the sergeants…’

‘And there is a baby,’ Syphilis interrupted him, shaken.

‘Baby?’ I asked him, incredulous.

‘Your mother gave birth in the camp! God, I am happy I caught the malaria from a sailor in the hospital and was spared such a sight!’

I laughed like a fool,
hugely relieved and I enjoyed their company. I took Danton’s pistols from Didier and then we abandoned the wagon and I climbed behind Boulton, and I would have my vengeance for their bolt was shot and it was our turn.

CHAPTER 18

It was midday when we rode to the camp through wooded trails, and saw the men were back from the attack and everyone was in a state of silent bewilderment. The general was sitting on a horse, and the battalion was standing in ragged ranks. I rode uneasily behind Boulton, and saw there had been losses in the battle at night. Apparently, a Hungarian brigade had savagely sortied against the battalion, I heard the men discussing, and the enemy had been reluctant to go home. I gazed at the men standing there, counting them as I did many times after. To my relief, I saw Marcel and Breadcrumbs, both leaning on their muskets, their faces grave. Cleft, the sorry bastard was standing behind the ranks, and so was grimacing Laroche, who was holding his side, bloody rag tied across his chest. I saw mother stalking frantically back and forth behind the ranks, holding Jacques. There was the bushy bearded Thierry with the fourth company, and I saw the gaunt, grease haired Poxy Fox sitting by a tree. The bastards had not killed the sergeants, but where was Henri? I felt tightness in my throat as I tried to find the colonel and his familiar cigar, but I did not see either. All I saw was an old general, standing over a long line of prone men.

There, wounded were moaning and the general of the brigade was talking
softly to one of them. I whimpered as I saw a face that was sheet white, strangely weak where it had been strong and full of life, and no cigar was evident on the lips. It was dear Henri, I saw, and deep, unrelenting fear raked me as I saw he was only barely responding to the general.

The general rode to another man who was sitting down under the shade. It was Voclain. They were talking, and as we got closer, the men noticed me, got up,
and perked, as there was something strange happening. They had been depressed over Henri, I saw, and for the many others lost, but now, they smelled trouble. Thierry and Fox froze, their mouths half open as I stared at them balefully. Thierry recovered, and made a throat slitting motion towards Henri, tapping his gun. I nodded at him, Marie. He knew I would kill him for that, or at least try.

Boulton guided the horse for the general, and Syphilis jumped
awkwardly down from his own beast, apparently having loaned the horse from good Boulton.

The general was angry, as he addressed Voclain. ‘You are the only captain of the battalion, Voclain. Henri had precious little good to say about you,’ the
old general was preaching icily, ‘and I know, you have had as little good to say about him, but as he is close to God, and the other captains are either sick of dead, wounded or drunk, so it will have to be you, no matter your thumb. This battalion is bereft of proper leadership, and you had better…’

‘Yes sir, I will rise to the task,’ Voclain was saying meekly, looking wobbly, holding a wrapped thumb.

‘Sir, citizen general?’ said Boulton neutrally.

The general turned, his beard
ed, pallid face looking at the youthful man saluting him from the horse. Voclain was getting up, suspicious of the officer. ‘Who are you then?’

‘I was a lieutenant of the fifth company.’

‘Was? And what are you now?’ the general said. Boulton leaned forward, handing over a yellowed paper to the old general. As he bent, Voclain saw me, and never, Marie, have I seen a man go sheet-white as he did. He stammered, got up quickly, holding his head in terror, apparently contemplating flight and lies, took an involuntary step back and shook in terror as he barely held his peace. I gazed at him calmly, enjoying the vacant look of absolute terror on his face.

‘Sir,’ he stammered. ‘As the acting colonel of the company, I would like to…’

The general’s hand shoot up, silencing the bastard. ‘It seems citizen colonel was expecting Boulton back. Major Boulton, it seems, the young man is now. So, as he outranks you, and he will take over.’

‘Sir!’ Voclain said, des
perate. ‘Surely I know the troops and the situation better?’

‘No,’ the general said, relishing the word. ‘Major, say your goodbyes to the
good colonel, as he is sorely hurt. We will take him to the hospital.’

‘No,’ I said, adding, ‘Sir.’

‘And you are?’ the old general asked tartly. ‘I have seen you before?’

‘A cantiniére, nothing more.
Colonel. He wanted to die with his men, and so we will steal a doctor if we must, but he will die in a hospital for sure.’

‘He has to go to the hospital, surely…’ Voclain started, but Boulton interrupted him.

‘With your permission, let him stay, sir. And there is a matter that has to be settled, a matter concerning the cantiniére, and the men who shot the colonel.’

‘Shot the colonel?’ a
sked the general in bewilderment, and Voclain quaked, a tick in his eye. I grabbed Boulton’s arm, shaking my head gently, and he was eyeing me carefully. He understood.

‘Nothing sir, we will handle it.’

And indeed, we did.

Later, Cleft was crying bitterly, helpless. Charles, wounded on the side by a bullet had made his way to the camp, greatly welcomed by everyone, was now holding Cleft down in the wet mossy glade, a bayonet on the man’s throat. Laroche was leaning on his musket, gazing around, his chest wound bleeding. Breadcrumbs and Marcel were flanking us, and Syphilis was holding a rope, trying to find a tree that held promise as gallows. He claimed it was a form of art to choose the right one, and I believed him. I was kneeling before Cleft.

He shook in fear as he looked at Syphilis.

‘Skins is dead,’ I
told him matter-of-factly. ‘Humps died. Charles nearly died, so did Laroche. Henri, my friend, is dying. And Voclain told me you helped him. Perhaps you knew about Humps as well? I always wondered.’

‘No!’ he said, trying to grab his rosaries from the moss. ‘I will swear on the Holy Mother, I was not helping them, not back then, not now. I was set up, on both times!’

‘You were smitten by me; I was smitten by someone else. You thought a simple discussion was fanciful flirt and you could not forgive me for your mistakes. You made me a whore, a reputation some still believe in. So, you took the plunge to hell and made a deal with the fuckers,’ I told him, calmly as I could. ‘To even the score.’

His eyes did not leave Syphilis and the rope. He spoke
quickly, hopeless. ‘You lied to me, when you came to me that day. You never intended to give us a chance.’

‘No,
but I intended to help you with Vivien, and Vivien was the one you spoke with, who knew we were after the fuckers, and then, yesterday, you told me that she saw this farm with a cow while you lot were skirmishing. She was worried about the baby, you said.’

‘She said she was afraid for you and the baby, she did, and she did see the farm, and was right! Was she not?’ he struggled, Charles grinned at him and Laroche came forward and hit him. He spat blood, howled in pain, nearly choking in
vomit. The fat thief raised his hand again, but I put my hand up and Laroche stopped, cursing.

‘You said you are an intelligent man. You did not find this suspicious
?`

He looked away, his eyes full of despair. ‘She wanted to be with me, and so she helped you, said you had an agreement, or had had words. She wanted to be rid of Thierry. Perhaps I am not wise in these matters, and I hate you, maybe, but I did not wish for you to die. And we were to go up there only the next day! You went early, and…’

‘Henri is near death,’ I hissed at him. ‘Humps killed. Skins is gone. And you say you did not hate me enough to sell us to them?’

‘They fooled me! Played me!’ he hollered as the
Charles’s blade pricked his skin. ‘Jeanette! Think! Like you think I lied or that Vivien used me, perhaps Thierry and Voclain used her? Maybe she thought she was doing you a favor, after all! They have been patient, using us all like marionettes.’

Breadcrumbs was
smoothing his huge bush. ‘I say we hang the bastard and let God find out the truth. He surely has better torture methods.’

‘Jeanette?’ Cleft begged. ‘I have not hurt you.’ His eyes rounded as Henriette came forward with Jacques. She stopped near us, eyeing Cleft. ‘Madame. Please. I…’

‘Can you be sure, Jeanette?’ she asked tiredly, ignoring Cleft.

‘No,’ I told her
bluntly.

‘Skins is dead,’ Marcel growled. ‘
Humps was hung after terrible torture. Colonel was shot in the fucking back. Charles has a hole in his side and is alive due to devil’s own luck. Laroche was shot, as he stood next to the colonel. God knows if they tried to shoot at us, the sergeants, but it was a battle and many balls flew around us. But It does not matter if we cannot be sure. He has to go to hell and then we take care of the bastards, and let there be both injustice and justice.’

‘Major Boulton surely would have to
decide this,’ Cleft blurted as he heard Marcel’s words, but Charles laughed, pushed the bayonet expertly deeper, staying just under the skin and Cleft went quiet, waiting, trembling.

‘Marcel,’ I said
calmly. ‘We can make a compromise.’ Cleft’s eyes light up in hope. I honestly did not know how it was, Marie, but I was beyond caring. ‘We can spare him if he is a fool and even Vivien if she was used.’

Laroche snorted.
‘Because she has skirts? No. She should die, and the only difference is that she will be a prettier corpse. They have gone too far.’

‘Cleft here can spare her if he cares for her.’

‘How?’ he asked, miserable.

I grabbed him by
 his jacket. ‘You will tell Vivien you are going, ask her for coin, and beg her to go away with you. You will tell her you are in love with her, that you can offer her life, that you have an inheritance waiting in Paris.’ I looked at him harshly as he collapsed. ‘Tell her you were asked to testify against Thierry, that you did not, but will run to avoid all this shit and a river of piss coming towards you. Tell her to meet you at the shed I was taken to, at midnight, by the road. You know this place?’

‘Yes,’ he said with a small voice.

‘And what will this accomplish?’ Marcel asked.

Henriette shrugged. ‘If Vivien is not guilty, she will be there. Then, perhaps, Cleft was
not guilty either. If she is, Thierry will come with Fox, perhaps Voclain, to silence him. They will tell us the truth by their actions.’

‘And if I was not guilty at all?’ Cleft said, angry now that he had been promised his life back. ‘Who will apologize to me?’

Charles grinned at him. ‘You were just unlucky then, Cleft, but I doubt few trusts you, anyway. You’ve spent time with them out of your free will, and for that, we have a hard time accepting you and even harder apologizing.’

Breadcrumbs grunted. ‘Syphilis?’ The
dutiful sergeant smiled as he had just managed to get the noose up and swinging. ‘Leave it there. We might have a use for it later.’

‘I ripped my jacket for this!’ Syphilis yelled,
bitterly disappointed at the waste of his fine talent.

I grabbed Cleft by the jacket. ‘I had
no feelings for you other than budding friendship. You imagined the rest and told people mean, nasty things about me. Things that might or might not have been true, but doing so, you made yourself my enemy. You are a bitter, self-centered sorry man who could not be happy for me, only unhappy for your losses. So, I did manipulate you. I burn in shame for it. But you will find, Cleft, that I will not be the only woman to manipulate you, and you had better find ways to cope with life. The love I feel for Henri, for that, I live and breathe, and I don’t care if he is an officer. What you caused, if you are guilty, is death of men we loved and possibly a man I love deeply. If so, you will die. Run? We will find you. We will see this very night if the noose is needed!’

Syphilis crumbled.
‘Good rope. Should not be wasted, that one.’

‘I
f they lie over me? If they…’ Cleft hissed.

I interrupted him. ‘Then we come back here, and hang you. But you have a cha
nce. And as for Boulton? He knows about this, so do not go and cry to him. He provided the rope.’

He said nothing, as he gazed at me, but we all left the place alive, and for him, it was a miracle indeed.

Later that night, Cleft was leaning on the doors of the familiar shed Didier had brought me in and we were waiting inside, Marcel, Laroche, and I, for Vivien had said yes to Cleft. Birds were singing forlornly outside, a scratching of small rodents in the old, filthy hay was evident. It was near midnight, when we saw Cleft’s head jerk to the side. His mouth fell open, I saw, and distinctive look of immense displeasure and deep disappointment was playing on his face. He opened the door, stumbled in. Men were coming, one lanky, and one squat.

‘Cleft! My friend!’ yelled out Thierry as Cleft turned to look at them. ‘My wife tells me you wish to have her. You, a monastic bastard would take her away from me? You would not know what to do with a woman like that. What you have
done has been boring to her. Oh, I know, for she lured you in with open legs, and she used to be a whore, you see, and performs such services with uncanny skill, and fools fall in and never come out. But she is my woman, and I take exception at this, ass.’

Poxy
Fox was stalking after Thierry, smirking, mocking Cleft. ‘And she said they want you to testify against us? What have you been telling them? We have told you, a sad puppet nothing, but there must be a reason they did not hang you.’ The gaunt man’s mocking voice echoed darkly from the night as they approached.