by Damian Serbu
“Well, do me one favor. Don’t tell Xavier about this hobby. I don’t think he’d appreciate it much.”
“If I never had to see either of your meddling brothers again that’d be fine, so you needn’t worry.”
She frowned, suddenly irritated that he’d speak that way about her siblings. “You could try harder to get along with them, especially Xavier. He means a lot to me.”
Marcel paced the room as if plagued. Catherine had seen this morose mood before, and she disliked the blank expression on his face.
“Michel is a nuisance,” he finally said.
“Did you threaten him? He says that you did.”
“He lies just to try to drive a wedge between us.”
“I agree. Let me handle him.”
“Fine, but you’d best watch the little abbé, too. You trust him too easily.”
“Really, Marcel, are you jealous? You’re completely wrong about Xavier.”
“If he were so good, he wouldn’t bring that vile Thomas into your home. They’re both disgusting.”
“Enough. That’s enough of your ranting. I won’t take it. Just leave. I told you before that I don’t want to be with you when you descend into these dour moods.”
She escorted him to the door as he followed slowly but regretted her tone the second she closed the door. She had acted mean-spirited and could he forgive her? She raced through the house and onto the balcony. He had only reached the bottom of the steps when she called to him. “Marcel, Marcel! Wait. Forgive me?”
He looked up at her, smiling, but the gesture almost chilled her. “Of course. Don’t worry. I am feeling churlish today. I’ll come by when I feel better again.”
Thomas: Love's Anguish
12 June 1789
THE DARKNESS SURROUNDED Thomas and Xavier. It always did by the end of a night together. Xavier had taken Thomas to dine with Catherine. They had a pleasant dinner and then walked the bustling streets, talking about a thousand unimportant things.
Thomas avoided mention of their relationship, though he often wanted to throw Xavier against the wall and kiss him until he submitted. Instead, their conversation turned to religion, and Thomas wanted to make his point more clearly.
“Sometimes our theological conversations make me uncomfortable,” he said.
“Why?”
“You talk about helping other people and guiding them to a better life, which I find admirable, but what about you?” He glanced over at Xavier.
“Nothing fulfills me more than seeing them happy. I’m called to serve them, so I do.”
“You don’t understand. What I mean—what I want you to consider—is yourself. Don’t you ever think about what this does to you?”
Xavier stopped. “It doesn’t matter.”
“That can’t be right,” Thomas said.
“Why not?”
“Abbé, you never even give yourself so much as a glance. It’s unwise to place all your energy on the world around you without stopping to realize what you want. I know you mean well, but you can’t always be a martyr and sacrifice your whole life for others. And will that yield? Why isn’t it fine to stop and enjoy a day for the things that make you happy?”
Xavier slowed his pace and Thomas saw his tears. His heart broke, so he wrapped his arm around the curé and cursed himself for pressing him.
“I upset you,” Xavier whispered.
“No, never.”
“I can’t worry about myself. I don’t know how to change. I do try to make you happy. I thought that by spending my time with you I was self-indulging.”
“Xavier, listen to me.” Thomas gave him a light squeeze. “It is a way, and of course you’re trying, and I don’t want you to completely change in one night. Just keep thinking about it.” Thomas then held Xavier, who allowed the embrace. “Forgive me for causing you anguish. You give yourself enough worry and guilt without my adding to it. I wanted to help because I’m concerned about you. Only promise that you’ll seek my help if it ever becomes unbearable. Will you promise?”
“What do you mean?” Xavier whispered.
“I’m afraid that your lofty view of humanity will some day break your heart. And you can’t deprive yourself of joy forever. I doubt that humanity can maintain your high expectations. You see redemption in everyone. You depend on it.”
“But it’s true,” Xavier said.
“That’s what concerns me. There are people who will harm others for no reason, who will take advantage of your good will for their gain. The other night, did you honestly think that man intended to steal food? That you could bring him into the church and change him after he drew a knife on us?”
“Yes.”
Thomas sighed, frustrated. “But he wanted to kill us. He had no qualms about stabbing a priest for money.”
“Why does that make him entirely evil?” Xavier retorted, stubborn. “He probably has had a horrible lot in life and given the opportunity—”
Xavier’s obstinate behavior irritated Thomas so he cut him off. “This is what I mean. You place humanity on an impossible pedestal.”
Xavier wept again, saying nothing.
“Enough for tonight,” Thomas said, relenting. He led them silently back to the church and stopped outside the door, still angry. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, Thomas motioned Xavier through the door and left, refusing to even turn and look at the priest as he fought to control his temper.
He headed to the river and watched the rats and people. It interested him to see what ventured into these darkened parts. Across the way he saw an army general paying for sex. People fascinated him. With his power and wealth, that man could have sex with almost anyone he chose and in virtually any location. Yet he hovered under a dirty bridge with an average maiden, exposing himself to the world. Amusing.
Around a bend, Thomas came upon a troop of boys in the shadows. One of them, probably a sixteen-year-old or so, solicited him when he came close, a false earnestness about his cherubic little face and bright blue eyes. He wore tattered clothes but was bathed to please his patrons.
“I’m not interested,” Thomas said, brushing him off. But the boy persisted. They had gone out of sight of the others and yet still he followed, so Thomas turned to him. His beauty enchanted Thomas but he was not game for a kill. This one had never harmed others. They slid behind a building and the young one nuzzled up to Thomas. His lips on Thomas’s neck felt divine. Thomas reached and felt his thin shoulders as he moved his mouth down Thomas’s throat.
Then he fantasized. He often did during sex, especially with one so young, to assuage the guilt. But for the last month all his daydreams drifted to Xavier, his beautiful, loving abbé. He had to stop this encounter, so he pulled the boy from him and flung a pile of money his way. “Here. It’s not you.” The youth looked hurt and alarmed, so Thomas took out more money, more than this one would probably make in a lifetime, and handed it to him. He clutched him by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Use this for a new life. Get away from this. You deserve better.” Without looking back, Thomas raced to his flat.
He could not betray Xavier and indulge in sex with another. But was it treason against their love? They had never discussed the matter and Xavier’s refusal seemed to grant permission for Thomas to pursue his lusts. Oh, this situation gnawed at his heart. He had made it through a number of days with his patience intact, but it was becoming more and more difficult.
Thomas marched into his flat and ripped off his clothes. They suffocated him, especially the undergarments since Xavier had sent his passion into overdrive. He opened his desk, grabbed a quill, and wrote furiously.
Dear Anthony,
My dear maker, I write in utter dismay. For the first time since I crossed over I am completely lost. I can already hear your admonitions for patience, for waiting. I know that you will tell me that I am too young for such deep worries. But they are with me nonetheless.
I have fallen in love. As you feared, as you warned me, I am no
t one to wander the earth alone for centuries upon centuries. I need a companion. You wanted me to wait, to learn about myself and my powers, and I intended to follow your advice but then he crossed my path. I am afraid that fate has interfered with your carefully laid plans. He will not live forever. I worry about him daily and want him to follow me as I once followed you.
Don’t worry, we are more compatible as a couple than you and I ever were. Spare me your caution, it’s too late. I do, however, seek your advice. I am confounded because he is a priest and will not give in to the physical passion he feels for other men. Naturally, he knows nothing of our nature. I need to hear your thoughts. What would you do?
Anthony, no scolding. No more rules. I need your nurturing and paternal guidance as you promised. I am in love but things have reached an impasse.
Yours forever in the blissful darkness,
Thomas Lord
He sealed the letter and put it outside his room for delivery to London. Though relatively early, Thomas remained in the flat the entire night. He read and organized financial matters, sealed a series of letters to his men in New York, then walked around his rooms and wondered what it would be like to share them with Xavier, his thoughts suffused with sadness and turmoil.
Catherine: The Dawn of Revolution
15 June 1789
THE NOON SUN shown brightly on this summer day, so Catherine had lunch served on the patio. She loved its warmth and the light’s brilliance helped her ignore Michel, who sat next to Xavier across from her. So far, they had merely shared pleasantries and chatted, but Catherine bristled when Michel finally changed the topic.
“I came with news from the king,” Michel announced in a tone Catherine was sure he used with his military comrades. She now considered what was happening a revolution because even if the Estates General maintained power with Louis on the throne, the balance of their duties changed drastically.
“What is it?” she asked, tense.
Michel, as always with state secrets, looked around to see who listened, while Xavier sat in his typical silent contemplation. She wondered if Xavier were tired or still upset about Thomas, because they had recently quarreled a couple of times, which sent Xavier into a deep depression.
“I’ve returned to Paris with a very small advance party of soldiers from the royal army,” Michel said. “We’re blending into the crowds undetected because the rioting has increased and they’re printing treasonous libel against the king. We’ve come to assess the climate in preparation for a vast troop movement into the city. I’m not sure what that means for either of you, but I know that you need to be careful. Watch what you say and where you go. The monarchy has spies everywhere. More than anything, I want you to be safe.”
“Fascinating,” Catherine said.
Michel glared at her. “I’m not sure that I would use those words. It’s more terrifying than anything. This could lead to violence, many deaths, and the crumbling of France. Louis may fall.”
“But you won’t blindly follow him if it injures the people?” Catherine asked, pushing.
“I protect everyone’s interests, but if their instability threatens the government it risks everyone in the kingdom, not just Louis. It even threatens the very people who rebel.”
Catherine rolled her eyes. “For God’s sake, Michel, do you think the citizens are that stupid? Maybe Louis is the stupid one.”
“Did I not just warn you against treasonous language? This talk, if anyone heard—”
Xavier cut his brother off. “Perhaps both of you have good points.”
“I agree,” Michel said with a nod, “but if Catherine keeps running about Paris, talking about women voting and democracy, it could endanger both of you.”
Catherine’s temper boiled and Xavier jumped out of his chair. He stormed out of the room and down the hall. Since the patio overlooked the front street, she went over and saw him running down the steps into it.
“Michel, listen to me—really listen to me, because I may never speak these words to you again, but they desperately need to reach you. You’re blinded. You suffer from your obedience to everything that Louis or the military demands of you. You follow orders without thinking. I know that Father instructed us to serve the king, and I do as best I can. But he also urged us to think, especially about the people whom the king protects.” She measured her tone deliberately and fought to hold her decorum. “Perhaps it’s time to take a stand, instead of sheepishly obeying Louis’s orders, maybe you should ponder why the rioting began in the first place. This is why you need to consider my idea about opening a salon here. To help facilitate peaceful change.”
He scowled. “I listen to your rambling, but did you ever try to see my position? I’m commissioned in His Majesty’s Army. Dammit, Catherine, there are laws. Everyone must obey or the social order will collapse. And there will be no damn salon in our family home.”
“Spare me your edicts and views on the social order. This goes way beyond the laws and enforcing them. This is about your attitude since Father died, your distorted sense of obligation to society, the king, the army, and to your family. Don’t look away from me. Your family, yes. I think that you’ve grossly distorted your responsibility to Xavier and me. Did you talk to Xavier again about leaving his church?”
Michel shrugged and stood up. “Yes.”
“How could you?” Catherine jumped out of her chair to level her gaze on his. “You know Xavier’s position and his commitment to those people. We should praise him. Instead, you badger him and make him feel guilty. It makes me sick. I can handle the nonsense that you engage in with me, because I ignore you. But how on earth can you justify making Xavier feel guilty?”
Michel backed away. “I know that I make mistakes. I know that we agreed to leave Xavier alone. I know how it hurts him. I worry about your safety too much—yours and Xavier’s. It’s not easy. I don’t expect you to see things as I do, but you do know that I love you both?”
“Yes. But you need to try harder to think about how your words and actions affect us.”
“I think about it all the time,” he said defensively. “But I still make mistakes. If you only knew half of the errors I have made.” He held up his hands, imploring. “Catherine, I love you. I always have loved you and Xavier. I forget to compliment you on handling our affairs with such determination and grace. You’ve done even better than our father.”
“And all of that from a woman.”
“I never said that.”
“But you imply it.”
“Give me time, please. I’m just worried for your safety. Things really are heated.”
She walked to the patio’s edge and looked down at the quiet street and people going about their business, which hardly betrayed the undercurrent of unrest that fomented. Then Jérémie approached, possibly for one of the frequent visits that she so enjoyed. As she watched him ascend the steps and the servants invite him in, she returned to Michel.
“Listen to me. Xavier and I love you, too. But you allowed Father’s death to change you too completely. Relax and be the Michel that we knew growing up. We’ll help you with your obligations if you let us. And that begins with letting Xavier serve where he chooses, whether we like it or not.”
“Reprimanding your brother again?” Jérémie asked as he entered.
“Hello, Jérémie,” Catherine swept across the porch, glad to see him. “Yes, I was giving Michel further instructions, though he doesn’t listen.”
“I do listen,” Michel said.
“I think that you’re too hard on your brother,” Jérémie said, smiling. “He tries his best.”
“Perhaps you’re right. I’ll be nicer, so long as he doesn’t bring up marriage again,” Catherine said as a final peace offering. Michel withdrew and said nothing. Jérémie, too, retreated and lapsed into silence. Catherine shook her head. Strange, these two men, with their secrets and inhibitions.
Xavier: Jeremie and Michel
15 June 1789 Late afternoon
XAVIER HAD LEFT for a brief time earlier that day to get away from Catherine and Michel’s feud but he returned for afternoon tea, refreshed and determined to ignore their bickering. Xavier was happy that Jérémie had joined them this afternoon because his presence softened some of Catherine and Michel’s arguments. Tea went well, with good conversation and no outbursts, leaving him at peace until Michel pulled him aside to talk alone while Catherine talked with Jérémie.
“Xavier, I desperately need your help.”
“What is it?”
“It’s Jérémie. He’s suffering. I’m lost as to what to do for him.”
“What can I do?”
“If I speak with him, will you conceal yourself in a nearby room and listen to how he reacts so that you can advise me?”
Xavier blanched. “Michel, spying won’t do any good.”
“But he forbids me to tell anyone. I pledged secrecy, even from you. He’s embarrassed. Please, Xavier, for me, will you sit in the next room and listen? I feel responsible.”
“It’s hardly your fault alone. You handled it poorly, but Catherine did, too. And Jérémie could speak with her and probably heal all these wounds.”
“Please, Xavier, for me?” Michel pleaded, looking imploringly at him.
Xavier reluctantly agreed and as Michel explained where to hide, Xavier said a quiet prayer for forgiveness.
Immediately after Catherine whisked away, Xavier pretended to follow but instead retired to the parlor window just inside the balcony and sat on a fainting couch because it was low enough to conceal his shadow from those outside.
“Is there anything that I can do?” Xavier heard Michel ask Jérémie.
“I dreamt of making Catherine happy my entire life,” Jérémie said. “Then in one moment my world collapsed. There’s nothing anyone can do.” He sounded hopeless.
“But you still come to see her,” Michel pointed out.
“I’ll never stop. She relies on our friendship.”