Gastien Pt 1

by Caddy Rowland

  “Great idea,” agreed Matt. As he led the horses over to the water, Gastien realized that this was the most he had ever laughed in his life.

  “Matt? I want you to know that I have never in my life laughed this many times in a month, let alone one day.”

  “I am glad you are having some enjoyment. Life has been unkind to you, and I am willing to bet it is not going to get any easier for awhile. Just keep that determination! Use your brains to find your opportunity, and then go for it. And now, gorgeous, let’s get that cheese and bread out!”

  “Oh, shut up!” Gastien laughed, playfully punching Matt in the arm.

  “Oww! He is huggable, yet he packs a punch! A deadly combination to be sure…”

  “Just be glad I am getting away from Rebecca!” teased Gastien.

  “Oh, trust me I am glad, if you can’t settle down. That was an accident waiting to happen. Hell, if you want, I will drive you all the way down to Italy just to get you further away from her!”

  And with that they prepared their simple lunches. Soon it was time to get on the road again. They passed the time talking a little, but much of the time they sat in comfortable silence. For Gastien, it was a pleasure to just relax and not worry about when he might all of a sudden be verbally abused or smacked.

  The gentle warmth of the sun caused him to doze off at different points. Matt let him doze. He figured once Gastien got to Paris, and really understood how harsh the streets and alleys were there would be little time for good sleep. He wondered how Gastien would make do. He was silently offering up a prayer for protection on Gastien’s behalf, when Gastien again woke.

  “Matt, I am sorry I keep dozing off. I am not very polite or much good company, I guess.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it. I was planning on being alone. You looked so relaxed that I decided to just let you sleep. It is a beautiful fall day, nice and warm.” Silently he wondered what Gastien would do when the winter came. Hopefully he had a heavy blanket rolled up in that tarp. And, hopefully, it would not get stolen.

  “Hey, Gastien, I don’t mean to get you worried, but do you have anything for protection in case someone tries to steal your belongings or rob you?” Matt asked casually.

  “Oui, thankfully, I thought of that. I have a knife.” Gastien showed him the sheath and pulled the knife out.

  Matt whistled. “Merde! That is a pretty dangerous weapon, Son. I don’t know that I would want to risk someone taking it and using it on me.”

  Gastien looked at Matt soberly. “Trust me, Matt. No one will get it away from me. I might be young, but I am not weak. I won’t hesitate to use it if anyone messes with me.”

  “But, are you sure you are a knife fighter?”

  “If I have to be. Father taught all of us boys how to fence. He was a firm believer in a strong body. That way he could work you closer to death, I guess. Actually, I enjoyed fencing and practiced most days, usually at dawn. Father did not mind us boys taking time for that even if it was later in the day. Like I said, it made us stronger. The barn was a great space for it. The different stances give your whole body a stretching and build the muscles. And, of course, the thrusting and parrying give you strength and endurance. My balance is excellent after years of that. I will hold my own if I have to.”

  Matt looked at Gastien with new respect. “Hey, that is great! I had no idea that there was sword fighting going on at your farm. I used to do that growing up. I think it is almost the national pastime for Frenchmen! It is an excellent method of exercise. I believe there are fencing clubs in Paris. Perhaps, once you get on your feet, you will join one to keep in shape. You won’t be so handsome if you get all fat and lazy sitting on a stool painting day and night!” he chuckled.

  “I am not going to get fat and lazy. Once I get started with women, I will do what I need to in order to make sure they always are delighted by what they see.”

  “Speaking like a libertine already, just like your father warned you about!”

  “Oui. And I can’t wait to become a swordsman in more ways than one!”

  “Again, I thank the Lord Rebecca will be far away from you,” Matt chided. “I don’t need my eldest girl a broken hearted spinster with a bastard to care for.”

  They both laughed and rode a few minutes in silence. Pretty soon, Gastien had a brilliant idea. “Matt?”

  “What?”

  “You know how you said Rebecca thinks I am good looking?”

  “Oui. And I see you can’t get enough of the subject, you vain womanizer-in-waiting!”

  “Non, this is not about me. I was just thinking. My brother, Paul, is sixteen. He looks exactly like I did at sixteen. Perhaps – “

  “A little matchmaking, Gastien? Are you trying to set up my little girl?”

  “Well, not in a bad way. My brother Paul is not like me at all. He loves farming and has no interest in traveling to Paris to start a new type of life. He will always farm. So, oui, I am matchmaking, but I don’t mean harm. I am thinking, if Rebecca was so focused on me, then she has not even noticed that Paul is becoming a young man. He is only two years older than her. If she likes what she sees when she looks at me, well, that is what she will probably see in Paul when he is eighteen. Unlike me, he will be loyal and faithful. He is that type. He is also kind. She could do much worse than my brother Paul, believe me.”

  “Hmm. I see your point. Come to think of it, you two boys do look a lot alike. I imagine that he will look like you do now in a couple years. You may be on to something! I would be thrilled if she would marry a farmer that was more successful than I have been!”

  Gastien smiled kindly. “She is a pretty girl. Paul would be a lucky man.”

  “I think I might have to start talking to Paul more often at church, making sure Rebecca is there when I do. Brilliant idea, Gastien! It would be grand if this worked out. She would have her handsome prince, and he would have a pretty, very gentle, loving wife. Merci for the thought!”

  Gastien awkwardly put his hand on Matt’s shoulder. “My pleasure. I only hope it works out. You would be a great father-in-law.”

  “And had you gotten your alley cat ways out of your system, I would have been proud to call you my son-in-law. I doubt that will happen soon, if ever.”

  “Matt, you are definitely right. I am not the settling down type. The love of my life will be painting. Women will simply be my entertainment and my relaxation. But, at least I am honest about it. And, I will be with them.”

  “Something tells me you will find the right woman someday,” Matt said knowingly.

  “That may be,” Gastien said firmly, “but I will not give up my freedom for any woman. I do not want to be interrupted with a family. A woman will have to accept that or move on.”

  “But, what about love?”

  Gastien snorted. “Love??? Somehow I don’t picture myself falling in love. But if I do, I will think of you and wish you could have the final laugh.”

  Paris

  I

  Gastien looked ahead. “Matt, look! I see Paris in the distance! We are almost there! Oh, Matt, I am almost there! My life will finally begin!” Gastien willed the wagon to go faster. He could not contain his excitement.

  “That is Paris for sure,” agreed Matt. “We should be there in an hour or so.” He thought soberly of how frightened Gastien would actually be when he was left alone later and night fell. Where would he go? Where would he sleep? How in the world would he get painting supplies and begin this new life? Matt was glad it was not him, after all. The farm was much safer.

  “Gastien, do you have any money?”

  “I do. Mother gave me some. I should be ok for a few days while I look for work,” Gastien said casually.

  “How much?”

  When Gastien told him, Matt’s heart sank. The boy was so vulnerable. Gastien had enough money to either get a squalid room for about two weeks or two very light meals a day for a month. Not both. He should just turn around, taking him back home right now. On the other
hand, that would subject him to God knows what. Jean Beauchamp might kill the boy after what Gastien had done to his father. Non, it was better to not get too emotionally involved and let the boy make his own decisions. He cleared his throat, saying gruffly, “When we get to Paris, where to you want to be dropped?”

  Gastien immediately replied, “The 6th arrondissement. There are a lot of shops and restaurants there. I should be able to find work. And Académie Julian is close by in the 5th. There should be artists around, painting, who I can learn from. Unless that is out of your way?”

  “Non, that is fine,” Mat said simply. The 6th! Almighty God in heaven! He wanted to be dropped right in the middle of it! People there would have little tolerance for homeless farm boys. There had to be many students and hopefuls just like Gastien in that area. People that had formal training. He prayed again, this time that Gastien would find work quickly. He was so young and so simple. Why would anyone take the time to teach him how to paint for free?

  “It is going to be dark in about three hours, Matt. Surely you are not going back tonight.”

  “Non, I have a brother in Paris. I stay there whenever I come to the city, to visit him and his family. I will do my business in the morning and then head back home.” Matt smiled again, trying not to show his worry.

  “Do you come to Paris a lot?”

  “Not a lot, but maybe quarterly.”

  “Can you read and write?” Gastien asked.

  “Non, I cannot,” Matt stated.

  “Oh, too bad. I would have written to you and let you know my progress. Ah, well. Look me up sometime when you come to the city. I will either be in the 6th working my way toward painting, or by the Académie Julian. In a few years I will be in Montmartre with my own studio.”

  “Montmartre??? That is out in the country and quite rural. Why would you go there?”

  “Because that is where the current art scene has been developing. I want to be where the excitement is.”

  “I will remember. Montmartre in a few years.” Lord, he even thinks he will have his own studio! Where does this boy think money will come from, he wondered. Doesn’t he know how expensive real estate is? Of course he wouldn’t. Well, he was about to find out. Matt’s heart sank when he realized it would be almost impossible for a boy like Gastien to achieve that dream. He could not take the dream from him, though. Matt kindly kept silent about the studio.

  Suddenly, they were on the outskirts of Paris, getting ready to head in. Gastien had always gotten excited when he entered Paris with his father, but this time he noticed how much busier it seemed than before. Everyone was in such a hurry! Many people looked polished, well put together. The excitement was not quite there as much as it had been a few minutes ago. He looked down at himself. He looked every bit the peasant farmer. How was he going to fit in?

  Gastien was now strangely quiet. And Matt was afraid to speak, because he was afraid Gastien would hear doubt in his voice if he said anything. They rode through the streets in silence, Gastien trying to appear nonchalant and Matt pretending it took all of his concentration to keep the wagon in pace with the traffic.

  Gastien’s stomach was sore with tension. He had waited so long for this moment, had played it out dozens of times in his head! Now that he was here, it was a different story. The story in his head skipped from arrival to being a successful artist. He was not sure how he was going to fill in the blanks. There was a lump in his throat that made it almost impossible to swallow, while his heart beat so hard that you could see a flutter on his shirt. Damn, but he was scared all of a sudden! As he looked around, he did not see one friendly face. There were just a lot of strangers with lives too different from what he had known. He did not even know where to begin looking for a place to sleep tonight.

  II

  The time had come for Matt to drop Gastien off. He hated to do it and knew he shouldn’t, but decided to offer anyway. “Gastien, if you want, you can come with me to my brother’s tonight. He would gladly to give you a place to sleep for a night and share supper with you.” Matt cringed inwardly. His brother was almost as poor as Matt, with a wife and six children. He would not be thrilled with an extra eighteen-year-old mouth to feed, even if for only one night.

  Gastien was tempted. That would give him a safe place to sleep. He knew, however, that the longer he put off parting ways with Matt the harder it would be going it alone. His heart wanted to scream, “Oui! I would love to come with you for the night!” Instead, he silenced the voice of his heart and forced himself to smile at Matt.

  “Matt, I really appreciate the offer. As much as I would like to accept, I think I need to get off of this wagon now and be on my way. Otherwise, I might be sorely tempted to turn my back on my dream. In fact, I would like to be dropped off up ahead by that small park on the right, across from those cafes.”

  Matt swallowed hard, steeling himself to keep his voice steady. “All right, Gastien. I understand. If you can remember, my brother lives in the Pigalle area of Paris. It is not a very nice area, but it is what he can afford. If ever you need help, his name is Pierre DeBough. Tell him you are my friend, and he will feed you or give you warmth. Do you hear?”

  “Oui. Pierre DeBough. Pigalle. I will remember,” Gastien said soberly.

  Matt pulled to the side of the road. Gastien’s legs seemed to be made of wood. Those wooden legs felt glued to the wagon bench. He forced his legs to work, getting down from the wagon. He put his coat back on and reached up to retrieve his tarp full of belongings, securing it to his back. Gastien felt very conspicuous on the street with that bundle on his back. Like some gypsy coming in that did not belong anywhere near the city of Paris. His eyes filled with tears. Once again, he found himself biting down on the inside of his mouth to keep from crying. It would do him no good to stand on the city corner in the middle of Paris, looking like a bumpkin and crying like a boy. He forced himself to think about color. It is all about the color. It is all about the color, he told himself over and over.

  Matt also had jumped down, coming around to say good bye to Gastien. He reached into his pocket and held out a small amount of money. “Son, this is not much, but it will get you a warm meal tonight. Please accept it.”

  Gastien looked at Matt kindly. “Matt, non. I cannot and will not. I have some food for tonight and some money. I will find work. You have a wife and family. They need you to be responsible for them, not me. I could never feel good about taking food away from them. I very much appreciate the thought. Put it away.”

  “Gastien, please – “

  “End of subject, Matt,” Gastien said roughly. “If you don’t follow my wishes I will walk away without a goodbye.”

  Matt could see Gastien was resolute in this, so he put the money away. Gastien was right, of course. His family desperately needed every bit of money they had. But, still, his heart hurt for Gastien. In a very short time, this brave, foolish boy had gotten under his skin. He stared at the young man and suddenly enfolded him in his arms. Hugging him, he softly said, “You are a dear friend in a short time, even though you are young enough to be my son. You know where to find me if you need me.”

  “Oui,” Gastien whispered. He could not trust his voice. He cleared his throat. “Again, merci for the ride. Please tell Mother and Paul that I made it to Paris.”

  Matt replied, “The pleasure was mine. I will let your mother and Paul know. Learn quickly, and don’t give up. Something tells me you will make it.” He stepped back. Arm on Gastien’s shoulder, he advised, “Think carefully, Gastien. Stay safe. Please, stay safe!” Matt turned to walk back around the wagon. Suddenly, he just could not let Gastien go off on his own. He whirled around to tell him to get back in the wagon – now – and come home with him.

  “Gastien, I – “

  But Gastien was already walking away. Matt knew that the boy had heard him, because Gastien lifted a hand over his shoulder and waved his fingers, but he did not look around. If he had, Matt would have seen the tears running down
Gastien’s face.

  Getting back up on the wagon bench, Matt sighed. He sat for a moment, watching Gastien walk down the sidewalk, blending into the crowd. Matt clicked the reigns and drove away, trying to forget the look of fear in those huge brown eyes. They were the eyes of a handsome young boy, whose dream would be impossible to achieve, because he simply would not have the money or the connections to achieve it.

  III

  Had Gastien been calmer he would have noticed that there were artists in the park and young students milling around the area, many of whom were not from the city. But he was scared and did not notice anyone else at the time. He simply walked as fast as he could, forcing himself not to think for awhile. He needed to clear his head, get some air.

  After a few blocks his heart began to return to normal. He was still scared, his stomach hurt like hell from anxiety, but he was not in a panic. This is what you wanted, he told himself. This is the beginning. Oui, it is scary. So what? You must calm down and, actually, you must savor every minute of this. Someday, you will want to remember the beginning of your life in Paris. Try to memorize every detail. Look around you and absorb.

  And look around he did! As he started to take in the surroundings, he began to notice that there really were a lot of people who did not look so polished. Oui, the sophisticated people were there, but there were people his age and people of other cultures, too. He did not stick out as badly as he feared. He chuckled. After a few days of not shaving and no way to clean up he would stand out a lot more! He saw that there were some artists, or students painting in the park. Many of them had unshaven faces, and no one seemed to mind.

  His stomach relaxed a bit. He met the eyes of a young female who appeared to be about his age. She shyly smiled at him as she walked by. He smiled back. Well! Maybe he did not look like he had three heads after all!

  Another young man, who was reading a book, bumped into him. “Excuse me! How clumsy of me!” the young man exclaimed.