The Reincarnationist Papers

by Eric Maikranz

  The open handed slap across his face wasn't hard, but was enough of a surprise to knock Louis off balance. He looked up sideways from the floor. Above the black shoes, the white stockings, the grey leggings and jacket was Joubert, rubbing at his stinging right hand. Joubert peered down his nose at Louis with an arrogant look on his face. Louis had gotten up to his knees before someone grabbed him under the arms and helped him up. It was Ramsay.

  "You've done it now," she whispered in his ear.

  Joubert threw his head back proudly. "Sir, I don't know who you are, but you have slandered me and insulted my wife," he said as Louis straightened up in front of him, "and I demand satisfaction." A stunned Louis stood rubbing his left cheek. "I can plainly see that you are drunk sir and I offer you the opportunity to recant before this crowd," he said smiling smugly as he looked at the faces grouped around him. Louis stood as still as he could and collected himself. Ramsay poked him in the ribs and gave him a stern look as if to say 'go ahead'.

  "Alright Monsieur, but first please tell me, is it true what they say?" Louis said motioning to his wife.

  "Excuse me." said Joubert, confused.

  "Oh come now. Surely you must know. It's been rumored for hundreds of years by several cultures that when a large woman, a woman of your wife's size for instance, approaches sexual ecstasy she will begin to squeal like a pig with delight."

  The crowd shrieked in unison and burst out in stifled laughter. Joubert stuttered with a stupid look on his face. His wife fainted and collapsed into a purple heap on the floor as several onlookers frantically scrambled out of her way. Ramsay's brown eyes rolled up into her small head. Mansalles managed to escape the crowd and the embarrassment in the commotion. Louis stood smugly in front of Joubert, his hands tucked into the waistband of his trousers. "I won't hold it against you if you don't know," Louis continued before Joubert could retort. "After all as I can plainly see, she is a lot of woman to love."

  Joubert, now completely red, was visibly shaking. "You... you... I demand satisfaction! I demand it!" he said stomping his feet uncontrollably on the floor. "I am within my rights to demand a duel to defend my honor and the honor of my wife. You may choose the weapon."

  Ramsay tugged hard at Louis' jacket to get his attention. "Pistols...,pistols," she hissed quietly at him between clenched teeth.

  "Pistols," said Louis loudly, his voice carrying throughout the ballroom. "The day after tomorrow."

  "Fine," Joubert said sternly. "Have your second call on mine tomorrow at my home. It's at--."

  "I know where it is," slurred Louis.

  "Day after tomorrow then, at sunrise." Joubert said as he stooped to comfort his wife.

  Louis nodded and stumbled through the crowd toward the door. "Here let's take my carriage," Ramsay said as they left the ballroom.

  "Why pistols? I've never even held a flintlock before much less fired one," Louis asked.

  "If memory serves you've never held a rapier before either have you?"

  "No."

  "Then a pistol is your only chance. Stay at my chateau tonight and we'll practice tomorrow after you've slept it off," Ramsay said.

  Louis was pasty white and winced with the report of Ramsay's first shot. "How's your head this morning?"

  "It's been better."

  "I'll bet it has. Here it's reloaded," she said, handing it to him. "You try it."

  He took the pistol in both hands. "What do I do just point it and pull the trigger?"

  "Pull back the catch like so." She pulled the hammer back until it locked in place. "Now point it carefully and gently squeeze the trigger."

  "Okay. What am I aiming at?"

  Ramsay looked around the barnyard. "That chicken over there by the fence. If you hit it, we eat it for lunch."

  "It's a bet," he said as he closed his left eye and drew a bead on the unsuspecting bird. He winced again at the report and peered through the fading white smoke to see the chicken standing unruffled in the same spot. "I think I missed."

  "Yes you missed. Here let me reload it for you." She took the pistol and dumped a measure of powder down the barrel. "Tell me, why did you go through with that outburst last night? Why didn't you apologize when you had the chance?"

  Louis sighed. "I was frustrated I guess. I've been working like a Trojan for months trying to perfect larger and larger mirrors while that talentless buffoon stands to make a fortune, and all because of a gimmick. It's infuriating."

  "Here, it's ready," she said, handing it back to him. "Well, if by chance you kill him tomorrow the contract would almost certainly be yours."

  "That thought has crossed my mind this morning," Louis said before he fired again. Again the smoke cleared to show the chicken unharmed and unruffled. Louis looked at the bird, looked at the end of the gun, then back at the bird. "That damn chicken is too dumb to know it is dead."

  "This might be more difficult than I thought," Ramsay said. "Let's try it again."

  "Even if I prevail tomorrow I wonder if I haven't burned all the bridges that might lead me to Versailles. I was a bit much last night."

  "You certainly were. But you said things many people have wanted to say for a long while. If you do win tomorrow I'd bet that you'll be forgiven and accepted back. You should kill him and make it clean."

  "Do I have to do that? I've never killed anyone before."

  Ramsay looked up at him. "Never? In all these trips?"

  "No never," Louis said, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know if I like the idea of starting now."

  "Well it's a little late to be getting cold feet don't you think?" she said, handing over the pistol again.

  "No that's not what I mean. Can't I just wound him so that he couldn't work?"

  "For god's sake man, you can't even rattle a motionless chicken at 15 paces and you're talking about wounding a man on purpose. That takes skill."

  "Oh yeah, watch this," he said, aiming and firing. The smoke cleared and again the chicken stood there mocking him. "Damn!"

  "Do it again." Ramsay said with a sigh.

  They were still practicing when Serge returned from Joubert's. Louis' marksmanship had not improved.

  "What happened?" Louis shouted to Serge, who was running up to them.

  "It's set, tomorrow morning an hour after sunrise in the royal cherry orchard."

  "That's perfect!" Ramsay exclaimed.

  "Why is that?" Louis asked.

  "Because I have a plan that might just save your hide," she said recocking the pistol. "But first I want something to eat." She aimed the gunbarrel at the white bird.

  "I think the sights are off. That's why I'm having such a hard time," Louis said.

  "Hmm. If you shoot a pheasant or a chicken in the head, it leaves both breasts undisturbed," she said as she squeezed the trigger. "Got 'em!" she cried before the smoke cleared.

  "Tell me about this idea of yours," said Louis, looking through the smoke. The headless chicken flapped wildly as it tried over and over to get to its feet.

  "Bring him in," Ramsay said walking to the house. "We'll talk over lunch."

  "Here's what I've been thinking. You don't want to kill him because of your conscience," she said sarcastically. "But if you wound him, say in the arm or the shoulder, he would be unable to work and would have to forfeit the concession at Versailles right?"

  Louis nodded as he chewed.

  "How much is this project worth?"

  "A lot. Enough that I wouldn't have to worry about money for a long time, several trips perhaps."

  "Good. Alright, unless you get really lucky, you won't be able to hit him much less just wound him, and you would need to practice for a month of Sundays in order to get good enough to pull this off. So here is what I propose we do. Go to the duel in the morning, go through all the steps like normal, except that when you both turn and fire on the count of ten, I want you to turn a half second early and fire immediately. And I don't want you to hit him. I want you to fire just wide, on purpose."

 
Louis stopped eating and looked at her without expression.

  "Are you getting all this?"

  "I'm just curious about where this is going."

  "I have a hunting musket, small caliber like a pistol, that I'm very accurate with, even at long range. I will position myself behind you on the small hill overlooking the orchard. When you shoot and miss, I will shoot and hit him in the shoulder. But we have to be careful. We must time our shots perfectly so that nothing is suspected and we must fire just as he is getting ready to fire his ball. Because if we shoot before he is ready, he will have a free shot at you after he has regained his composure and judging from his mood last night, I think he aims to kill you. The hill is on the west side of the orchard so be sure you're facing east when you fire, otherwise I'll have to shoot him in the back."

  "I like it," said Louis. "It's perfect, but what happens if our shots don't come at the same time?"

  "They will. That's what we're going to practice for the rest of the day."

  The sun was still below the horizon when they climbed into the carriage. Dark bags had collected under Louis' eyes during the sleepless night. He climbed into the coach and sat next to Ramsay and Serge without speaking.

  "Here have some," Ramsay said offering a small silver flask. "It will help with your nerves."

  "My nerves are fine," Louis said looking out the window.

  Ramsay shrugged and tipped up the flask quickly. "You're on your way to becoming a rich man."

  "I just wish it didn't have to happen this way."

  Ramsay rolled her eyes and drew on the flask again.

  "Have you dueled before?" Louis asked.

  "Yes, I've been in dozens of duels. Being a mercenary, it comes up more often than you might think."

  "Do you have any last minute tips?"

  She laughed. "Yes, mind you don't get yourself killed out there this morning."

  Louis looked solemnly back inside the coach at her.

  "Don't worry," she said. "It'll all be over in a few minutes. I should get out here and find my position. The orchard is just over this hill." The driver stopped and she hopped out. She wore shabby brown peasant's clothing and new brown leather boots. The driver handed down her musket rifle and equipment satchel. The gun was as tall as she was. "Don't forget to pick me up on the way back," she said before disappearing like a rabbit into the dense thickets beside the road.

  The morning sun cut low through the rows of cherry trees, highlighting each white spring blossom like votive candles in a church. The cool still air was thick with the smell of the honeysuckle bordering the orchard. A double-doored coach stood at the edge of the trees. Three men milled around in the first row.

  "That would be them," Louis said to Serge. "You remember the way Ramsay told you to check the pistols don't you?"

  "Yes I practiced most of the night. I'm prepared," answered the valet.

  "Good," he said reaching over to squeeze Serge's knee. "Let's go."

  They walked into the low trees to meet the three; Joubert, his second, and a referee who held a wooden case containing the pistols. Serge and Joubert's second shook hands and spoke softly before going aside with the third man to inspect the weapons. Joubert looked as tired as Louis.

  "It's not too late to apologize Monsieur De Nehon."

  Louis turned quickly and looked hard at him. Joubert hadn't known his name, or so Louis thought. He despised him more than ever now. Only a coward could forgive such an insult as he'd received two nights ago. Louis took a deep breath. "I came here to defend my statements, not to grovel."

  "Very well," said Joubert, his voice almost cracking.

  "We're ready," said Serge, carrying a polished mahogany flintlock in his hands.

  "Take your places gentlemen," said the referee, motioning for Joubert and Louis to come over. The trees were planted in East-West rows. The sun shone brightly down their row up to the bramble covered hill Ramsay had spoken about. "We'll draw lots to see who will shoot into the sun," he continued.

  "That won't be necessary," Louis said quickly. "I'll shoot facing east, unless you object?"

  Joubert shook his head and stepped into the middle of the row, cocking his pistol as he went. Louis cocked his and took his place back to back against Joubert.

  "Gentlemen, I'll count off as you take your paces. When I reach ten you may turn and fire at will. Do you both understand?" They nodded. "Good luck. One, Two, Three..."

  Louis squeezed the handle of the gun with each stride and scanned the sunlit hillside in front of him for any sign of Ramsay. He thought about her sitting out of sight against some short tree, bracing the long barrel for careful aim. He thought about her watching him at that very moment, counting the steps along with him.

  "Eight, Nine, T--."

  Louis snapped around and fired his ball through a narrow cone of white smoke at the blazing sun hanging in the sky behind Joubert. There was only the sound of one shot, the way it had been during practice the afternoon before. Joubert took an extra step back then dropped to his knees, still clutching the pistol in his hand. The smoke cleared and Louis' eyes adjusted to see Joubert kneeling with an astonished look on his face. A thin trail of blood trickled down from the small perfectly round black hole over his right eyebrow. Louis looked on in horror as Joubert blinked three or four times and swayed on his knees. His pistol bucked wildly in his relaxed hand as he fell face down on the short grass. Joubert's shot grazed Louis on the leg just below the knee.

  Louis fell to the ground clutching his leg and looked back angrily at the anonymous hillside. Serge rushed up to him. The referee came over after looking at Joubert. Louis was bleeding badly and had to be carried the few hundred yards through the gardens to the palace where a royal assistant surgeon attended his wound.

  Louis tried closing his eyes against the pain as the surgeon worked, but every time he did he saw Joubert's pale tired face with its blinking unbelieving eyes on the backs of his own eyelids. He cursed Ramsay for killing him. He visualized the satisfied look she must have had on her face at having made such a good shot, at taking another life with impunity. He should have seen it coming.

  The surgeon closed the wound and wrapped the knee joint from mid-thigh to mid-calf. Louis fell asleep halfway through the wrapping. He awoke late in the afternoon as Ramsay, now dressed in a red and black velvet gown, came in.

  "How are you?" she asked.

  Louis sat up gingerly in the large bed. "Fine, they say I'll probably walk with a limp but..."

  "Yes, but at least you're better off than Joubert. By the way, good shooting on your part. I didn't think you had it in you," she said breaking into a smile.

  "You bastard!" he exploded. "I should have known you'd kill him. I should have known you’d do it."

  "What are you talking about? I didn't shoot. My musket misfired. You shot him."

  Louis narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."

  "Believe what you want young one, but I'm telling you I didn't fire. I have to go to Saxony on business, but I think you should know that the news of this is spreading quickly. As it turns out, the late Joubert wasn't quite as well liked as we thought. You're already somewhat of a celebrity. I recommend you get up and about as soon as possible, I think you'll have a lot of work to do. I'll see you around." Ramsay turned and walked to the open door where she was greeted by the tall, dark haired Le Brun.

  "Madame Ruebal, always a pleasure," he said, kissing her gloved hand.

  "Likewise." She smiled at Louis before disappearing around the door.

  Le Brun watched her walk down the hall before he entered. He carried a cane in his hands. "How are you?"

  "I'll be fine in a few days. I want you to know I plan to resume work as soon as possible."

  "Yes," he said opening a window. "I suppose congratulations are in order."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Come now. You know exactly what I mean. I just wish it hadn't come to this. I'm giving you the contract, you're the only qualified glassier left in
France as far as I know. But just between you and me, I'd have given it to you anyway. Here," he said, holding out the cane, "this is for you. The doctor says you're going to need it. The contracts are in my office waiting for you. Come by as soon as you're able. Good day Monsieur." He left without looking back. Louis held the cane and looked into the dragon's blue sapphire eyes as long as he could without blinking.

  10

  "I held the cane and looked into the dragon's blue sapphire eyes as long as I could without blinking.”

  "Did you ever perfect the mirrors?" I asked.

  She gave a slight start as if she thought I were asleep. "I did, but not in time to put them in the Gallery of Mirrors. I did those by hand. They're not perfect, but they're close. I made my final breakthrough with the cast mirrors at the very end of the project. I took my final payment from Le Brun and helped a factory at St. Gobain in France to mass produce this new glass."

  "What happened to it?"

  "It worked. It's in operation today and I still own a nice percentage of the company[17]."

  "What was the social scene in Versailles like for you after your recovery?"

  "I was respected for saying what everyone else had always wanted to but wouldn't. They were such pathetic creatures, but then again they always are. I despised them, which of course made me all the more attractive in their eyes. Having the reputation for killing Joubert was another thing I didn't like. Each day I wished I could tell the truth about what happened, but obviously I never could."

  "Did you ever find out the truth about who shot him?"

  "Ramsay did it. Weren't you listening?" she said sternly. "Sure, she never admitted to it, but she did it. It's the only explanation for what happened. Speaking of which, Ramsay might be in Zurich when we arrive. Don't let her or anyone else know that I told you her name."

  "I won't," I said in the middle of a yawn. I looked over at the cane again and stared at it as long as I could until I fell asleep.