by Damian Serbu
This flurry of activity and his morning adventure tired him more than usual, so Xavier slumped into a large leather chair outside the chapel to rest.
“I thought we told you not to wear that?” Catherine suddenly asked, pointing at his clothing.
“Maria allowed it so long as I take it off before leaving,” he answered.
“Well, you’re done for the day. Take off those vestments.”
Then she darted away. Xavier got up, locked himself in the chapel, and returned to his lay clothing. Afterward, he walked out of the chapel as Catherine buzzed by again in the opposite direction.
“Oh, do you have a moment?”
“Of course,” he answered.
“You’re safer in those clothes. I can’t say that they look natural. You were actually made for those priestly robes and garments. But this makes me feel better. Come, sit.”
Catherine sat on a leather chair, so Xavier joined her and sat on a nearby couch.
“We have talked about this a million times,” she began, “but do it once more for me.”
“Catherine, I’m being careful. I promise. And I’ll follow all of your rules. I won’t be alone unless in the church with guards outside or in this house. I’ll travel with others. The only time that I’ll let my guard down is with Thomas, and I’ll also remind him to watch out for me. What else can I say?”
Catherine jumped up, knelt before Xavier, and gave him a gigantic hug, then kissed him on the head and left, but she turned around before she got to the door.
“Yes?” Xavier asked. “I thought we were finished.”
“You looked at us strangely today when we gave Thomas charge over your safety throughout the night. Perhaps you should ask him about it.”
She almost continued when Maria walked into the room. Catherine and Maria had become friends since Maria had to move into the salon. Her help was indispensible, and Catherine appreciated having another strong woman in the house.
“I just saw Michel,” Maria said.
“Oh, God, is he here again to warn me about something? Or to shut us down?” Catherine asked.
“No, I was at the market and he was down a side street, involved in some quarrel.”
“Was he safe?” Xavier asked.
“As safe as one can be in battle,” Maria answered.
“Can you send someone to look after him?” Xavier asked Catherine.
“I know you’re worried, but we have to leave him alone. He ordered as much, and if we don’t respect his wishes, how can we expect him to honor ours?”
“I don’t want him to be killed.”
Catherine lowered her head. “Nor do I. But there’s nothing we can do.”
Xavier nodded, disliking that she was correct.
“Xavier, can you come with me to purchase more bandages for our hospital?” Maria jarred him out of his contemplation with this sudden question.
“Yes,” he said and Catherine took leave.
“I wanted to be alone with you,” Maria said outside of the house. “I was worried.”
“About what?”
“You and I, we get so wrapped up in what we’re doing with the church and with people. I think we need to take more time for ourselves. The girls and I are doing this already. We started it when we had to move into the house, especially now that we’re down in the cellar. But you and I need to do it, too.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I just need to hear that you’re really...well, that this revolution isn’t taking its toll on you.”
“I’m doing well enough. I hate the violence. But given the circumstances, I’m doing as well as can be expected.” His real anguish was with Thomas, but he did not want to bring that up with her.
As they walked through Paris, with Denys and two other guards close behind, they talked more about the violence and how they disliked it but generally agreed that they could do little but help those who crossed their path. It was like old times when they wandered around the parish on a Sunday, talking and greeting people as they went. As they returned to the house, Xavier noticed that Maria had avoided talking much about herself. He wanted to know if she was well enough, too.
“Are you happy living here?” he asked. “It was an abrupt change for you.”
“Yes, I am. At first I missed the convent. This is different. And I was angry. But I’m accustomed to this and feel that I’m doing good work in the hospital. Moving to our own quarters did a lot of good, too. Catherine works so hard. I want to do anything to help her. Besides, she accepts me and my girls, no question.”
“Do you possess them?”
Maria blushed. “Only when they want to be! And no more than someone else possesses you!”
“That’s enough,” Xavier swept his hand in the air and sent a laughing Maria on her way. He started inside when he saw a familiar form coming down the street. He smiled widely.
Thomas: Love Potion
17 July 1791
DESPITE HIS CONSTERNATION, Thomas grinned when he saw Xavier on the porch, smiling like a damsel who had just spotted her knight. Xavier was so charming in those peasant clothes that he fixed to look neat and tidy. Despite his anger and intention to scold the abbé for what had happened that day, Thomas melted as he neared the Saint-Laurent home. Yet he still must reprimand Xavier. That was his first thought upon wakening and seeing the note from Anne Hébert.
Thomas had almost forgotten to worry constantly about Xavier because he had grown accustomed to the rioting, but today he woke with dread in his heart. He threw the lid off of his trunk too hard, shattering it into pieces, and dressed hurriedly. Something alarmed him terribly about Xavier’s safety. He paused momentarily before sprinting out the door to leave a note for his servants to fetch his back-up trunk, when he saw the note from Anne and ripped it open: “Thomas, before you go anywhere tonight, I must speak with you at my place. Anne.”
He threw it into the trash and raced out the door, arriving at Anne’s place in seconds. He knocked frantically on her door until she called for him to enter.
“Well, such manners, banging on my door like that. We may be friends now, but I think your behavior needs improving.”
“What is it? Why did you send me that note?”
“Are you going to apologize for the entry?”
“I hardly think that this is the time for decorum.”
She erupted with laughter, making him even angrier. “He’s just fine. No need to lose your temper.”
“Then why did you want to see me?”
“We need to discuss something, but he’s safe. Were you surprised I sent you something?” she asked, crafty.
“How did you know where I lived?”
“I’ve my methods,” she said.
“Tell me. How did you discover where I sleep?”
“Because you just told me.” She cackled even harder. “I only figured out how to get you a letter, I had no idea you slept there. Now, you know I’ve my ways of acquiring such information, and you know I’m not about to share them with you. But, if it makes you feel better, it was very difficult to come by. Your place is safer than you think.”
“But if you discovered it, could Marcel?”
“Well, I hadn’t thought about that. Do you sleep in the same place every night?”
“I have been,” he answered.
“Then maybe you should move about more.”
“So he has the power to locate me?”
She smiled, a sly, protective grin. “Actually, no. It doesn’t seem that he has firm control over the magic. He’s an amateur. It’s obvious that he has learned from someone dumb enough to give him the black magic. But I don’t think that they told him all the secrets, only what they wanted him to know. Otherwise things would have been much worse by now. I suppose that he could find you, but it seems highly unlikely that he could figure it out. And it doesn’t happen quickly. You’d probably have a warning. He’s haphazard. For example, he put the potion on Catherine, no one doubts tha
t, yet he can’t control what anyone around her thinks. Do you think, in the same situation, that Anne would have idiot spies running around Paris?” She slapped her knee as she laughed at the notion. “Hell, no. The problem for us is that he’s not interested in anything good. This is black magic, bad forces. I told you that I refuse to deal with them. They bring nothing but chaos and harm. So we must be careful, because he doesn’t know how to control them. And when he does, it’s no doubt often by mistake. He could discover you by accident, without knowing what he’s doing.”
“I’ll do what I must,” Thomas answered.
“Good. And I don’t worry about you.”
“Is there anything else that we can do for Catherine?”
“I told you I was acting for her, and I am. But I’ll not do the black magic. No way, no how. So, short of that, there’s not much that can be done. I got Xavier and Jérémie watching her every move. They report that there’s no change in her, which is good. His potion isn’t that powerful, another sign that he was taught by someone who limited his powers for some reason.”
“Limited?” Thomas asked.
“Yes, a silly, simple love potion that makes people infatuated. Nothing else. Nothing lasting about it. That’s why she has to take it so often.”
“Very well. Now, tell me why you sent the note.”
“Oh, all right. I regretted sending it after a while but it was too late. You promise me that you’ll not come down hard on Xavier.”
“What is it?”
“No, you aren’t in charge around here. Promise first.”
“It depends on what you have to say.”
“Let me hear it from you. You won’t go yelling at him. You won’t go shouting and screaming. It hurts him more than he lets on. I see it in his soul. You need to grow up a little. Things bounce off you, you two argue and you forget. You return to him all fine, and he’s so happy to see that you came back he pretends to be fine, too. But each time you start with him it scars that soul. It may not be what you’re wanting, but he loves you like you want him to. So treat him that way.”
He scowled. “I’ll keep myself under control. Now please, tell me.”
“They tried getting him today.”
Anxiety gripped his heart. “Who? What do you mean?”
“He was out, doing his preaching or whatever the hell he does, I don’t know. And someone recognized that he was a priest. So they came after him.”
“I thought you said he was safe.” Thomas practically snarled the words, thus ignoring Anne’s earlier entreaties.
“He is. I was there, I got him out. Oh, you should have seen his face. I had to act like we were man and wife. It was the only way to convince them that he wasn’t a priest.”
Man and wife? Xavier and Anne? Despite his outward amusement, Thomas still seethed inside. He had instructed Xavier a thousand times that he endangered himself more and more as this revolution intensified and he kept performing these useless Catholic rituals. But Xavier refused to change his routine and disregarded his safety.
“I must go,” Thomas said abruptly.
“You promised me, now. But I see in your eyes you don’t intend to keep that promise.”
Thomas hesitated, thinking about how Anthony told him the same things, that his temper would bring him nothing but pain. “Can’t I worry about him?”
“We all do. But you’re not allowed to yell at him. He was doing good for people, no matter how foolish.”
“But he has to be careful.”
“And your screaming at him will ensure he does? It hasn’t yet.”
Thomas bit his tongue and paced. She was right. Of course she was right.
“Very well. I’ll follow your advice, and I’m grateful that you came to me.”
“Remember, you promised. I’d scold you some more but there’s a disturbance in here—“ she stopped and glared at him. “Damn, I forgot again. It’s you. That undead aspect to you.” She motioned him toward the door. “You got what you want, now go to him. And remember your promise.”
Thomas nodded, curt, and quickly left. He fought his emotions the entire way to Xavier. One minute he was livid, then Xavier’s caring nature and innocence flashed through his mind and softened him. Yet next the anger returned because Xavier risked too much. Up and down went his emotions, his head a mess of contradictions. Then he spotted his abbé on the balcony. Thomas blew a kiss and hurried up the steps.
Xavier: Confrontation
17 July 1791
“THOMAS, YOU’RE HERE!” Xavier greeted him.
“You look radiant this evening,” Thomas said.
“I look ridiculous. I can’t get used to these clothes. I’ve worn my clerical garments too long.”
“You haven’t much choice in the matter. You need to wear them for your protection.”
He sighed. “I know.”
“May we speak privately?”
Xavier frowned. When Thomas used that tone of voice, it usually meant he wanted to remonstrate him about something. Nevertheless, he agreed. “Where? One of the rooms here? We could clear it out, or go to the private quarters.”
“I’d be more comfortable at the church.”
“Let’s go,” Xavier answered hesitantly. “I suppose that you heard about this morning and that’s why you want to talk.”
“Yes, it is. Why are you nervous?”
“I’m embarrassed. I already promised Catherine and Anne that I’d watch myself more carefully. And honestly, you tend to get angry about things over which you have no control.”
Thomas said nothing for a long moment. Then, “I know, but I’d like to go over things one more time.”
“It’s not necessary. How many times are you going to say the same thing?”
Thomas scowled, but he softened his words. “Please? For me?”
Xavier sighed again. He was tired and would rather stay with Thomas and talk at the house about things other than their relationship. But he accompanied him to the church anyway because he could never resist being with him, even when they argued.
Thomas’s demeanor intensified the closer they came to the church. Thomas’s walk to the Saint-Laurent house announced that he arrived with a purpose, and his posture did not change now that they neared the church. Indeed, Thomas noticeably clenched his jaw. Xavier’s stomach knotted. Inside, they went to Xavier’s sparse room.
“Sit,” Thomas motioned toward the bed.
Xavier fell onto it and tucked his knees under his chin.
“I don’t mean to be angry,” Thomas said with an edge. “I tried to think of ways to tell you this, but it’s gotten to the point that I don’t think you listen, which infuriates me. I’ve begged and pleaded with you to take your safety seriously. I’ve told you that this is a violent revolution, no one is safe, and that they target priests. Yet you refuse to listen.” Thomas paced back and forth as Xavier clutched his legs even tighter. “Why do you do these stupid things?”
“Because,” Xavier hesitated, lost and trapped.
“Because why? Because you like defying death? Because you’ve no regard for your own life? Because it amuses you that your actions cause the people in your life to worry?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why?”
“Thomas, I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Do you understand that you could be killed?”
“I realize there’s danger, that’s why I promised—”
“What good are your promises? You promised me that you’d be careful, but running out to join a riot is hardly careful, it’s ignorant and stupid.”
Xavier flinched, never having seen Thomas this furious. Thomas kicked at the furniture and raised his voice. Xavier was crushed. He had pondered what almost happened, and he more and more thought about leaving the church for Thomas, actually abandoning his faith for this man, and now look what he had done.
“Do you ever consider others when you do things?” Thomas demanded.
“What does th
at mean? That’s all I ever do,” Xavier said defensively, huddled up in a little ball.
“Oh, yes, I forgot. You think about the masses all of the time. And if that hurts the people closest to you, then we all must cope with whatever happens to you. Why would we rank anywhere in your grand scheme?”
“Thomas, I don’t understand. You, Catherine, Michel, Anne, I can’t name everyone I love. You’re more important than anything. I can’t believe that you don’t know that.” Damn. The tears came again. He had fought them off and grabbed his legs with the hope that this somehow captured the crying. But now they came in a sudden burst, turning Xavier’s words into sobs.
“Not this time,” Thomas shouted. “You won’t cry and make me feel bad so that we don’t address the issue. It won’t happen, do you hear me?”
“What do you want from me?”
“The truth.”
“For God’s sake Thomas, I don’t understand.”
Thomas lunged toward him, grabbed a chair, turned it around, and sat. For a brief moment, he put his head down so that his long, black hair entirely hid his face. When he looked up, Xavier still saw the lines of anger. Thomas grimaced and snarled, then he punched the top of the chair.
“You’re hiding. This business about the people, about the church, all this nonsense that you created as important in your life, it’s nothing but a ruse to keep you from giving yourself what you want because you’re terrified of what other people think. So you pour out your soul to the sorry folk in this decrepit neighborhood while those who really love you, the real you, suffer.”
“The people who love me know that what I do isn’t a lie.” The tears continued through his mortification that he had so angered Thomas, but Thomas’s bitter tone maddened him, too.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t appreciate your accusations. They hurt. I have never denied my love for you.”
Thomas shot out of the chair and threw it across the room, smashing it into pieces.