Love and Honor

by Harry Samkange

  “I see, Monsieur. Thank you,” Sérolène said. The marquis nodded in reply, his eyes turning toward the doorway and the appearance of one of his lackeys who approached and delivered to him a whispered message. The marquis rose with elegant dignity, turning to address Sérolène once more.

  “Mademoiselle de La Bouhaire, would you do me the honor of taking a turn with me outside? I believe I’d like to stretch my legs before we’re confined to ship for two months,” Blaise said. Sérolène looked across the room to her uncle, who was engaged in conversation with the Baron de Ginestas. Baron Salvagnac nodded his tacit permission and Sérolène rose to accompany the marquis, donning her hood against the sun. They walked outside, the marquis crossing the road at a leisurely pace, Sérolène at his side, a small posse of lackeys making sure that any traffic should stop to allow their master and his companion to cross undisturbed. When they reached the other side, the marquis made his way to a very well-appointed carriage bearing his family heraldry which was surrounded by a small phalanx of retainers and guards. The curtains of the carriage were tightly drawn shut against the curiosity of all, ensuring the privacy of its occupants.

  “I wonder, Mademoiselle, if I might beg of you a favor. The prospect of this journey has been very hard on Madame de Blaise. She fears she’s losing all of her family, both sons...and daughters. Her heart holds you in particular esteem. Perhaps you could sit with her a bit and help ease the pain of parting?” the marquis asked of Sérolène.

  “Of course, Monsieur. I should be most honored to provide such comfort as I may,” Sérolène replied. The marquis nodded his thanks, motioning toward the two footmen who stood guard by the door, for it to be opened. Inside, her face streaked with tears, her head on Nicolas’ shoulder, was Madame de Blaise.

  “My dearest friend, I’ve brought someone to cheer you up,” Blaise said hopefully.

  “Oh, Édouard! What have you done? To let my children see me in such a state,” Madame de Blaise admonished him through her tears. Blaise shook his head and turned around, signaling with a nod to the coachmen to close the door of the coach as soon as Sérolène was helped inside. Sérolène was heartbroken as Nicolas extended his hand to assist her, never having seen the marquise in such a state of distress.

  “Oh, Madame, I beg you have some cheer, for you shall surely break my heart if you are truly as sad as you seem,” Sérolène said, reaching out to take Madame de Blaise’s hand as Nicolas bowed his greetings to her.

  “Mademoiselle de La Bouhaire. It seems impossible that seeing you again should be even more pleasing than I’d imagined, but here you are and you have proven it so,” Nicolas said, nodding gravely as he kissed Sérolène’s hand in greeting. Sérolène smiled to acknowledge the compliment, though her pleasure at seeing Nicolas was tempered with sadness at the state of the marquise’s distress.

  “Nicolas, might I speak to you a moment?” the marquis called from outside the coach. It was phrased as a question but Nicolas recognized it immediately for the command that it was.

  “Do not worry on my account, Maman. We shall see each other again soon. I promise you,” Nicolas said, kissing his mother on each cheek as Madame de Blaise embraced him a final time before releasing him to his father’s custody.

  “Madame Mère, Mademoiselle,” Nicolas intoned with a bow as he took his formal leave. Once Nicolas had departed and the door was again closed behind him, Madame de Blaise turned her attentions toward Sérolène.

  “How beautiful you are, my sweet child. It seems you’ve grown up so… and in such a short time,” Madame de Blaise said.

  “Thank you, Madame, it’s your guidance that’s helped me so. I suppose in my own way, I am trying my best to be just like you,” Sérolène said, squeezing Madame de Blaise’s hand.

  “It’s sweet of you to say so, but I’m afraid you quite outshine me now,” the marquise said through her tears. Sérolène placed her head on Madame de Blaise’s shoulder, enfolding her arms around the marquise’s waist.

  “When Nicolas and I are married, you must promise to come and live with us. How I should like our children to grow up in the care of their grand-mère. I’m afraid, dear Maman, that I must insist upon it,” Sérolène said softly, referring to Madame de Blaise touchingly as “Mother.” It was such a considerate and sweet thing to say that Madame de Blaise broke down again, openly weeping into her kerchief.

  “You are so dear to me, my child. Oh, how I shall miss you all when you are far from here. You must promise to continue to write to me, to give me at least some cheer,” Madame de Blaise said.

  “I promise, Maman,” Sérolène replied sweetly.

  “All right then, off with you now. I shall watch your departure from here. Look after my son, ma belle-fille. I know at times he appears to be made of iron, but he needs you and your gentle goodness more than you know. Don’t forget that,” the marquise said.

  “I promise to take good care of him,” Sérolène replied earnestly, giving Madame de Blaise a final embrace before taking her own leave and stepping out into the sunshine. She expected Nicolas to be waiting for her, along with the marquis, but to her surprise, Nicolas was nowhere in sight.

  “I’m sorry Nicolas couldn’t wait for you. There have been some changes with the berthing arrangements and he needed to report to his ship at once. I regret to have to say it but he won’t be travelling on the Belle Héloïse with the rest of us. He’ll be on the Fantassin,” the marquis said, seeing the confusion on Sérolène’s face.

  “The Fantassin? But that’s a warship, isn’t it, Monsieur? But why can’t he be with us? I don’t understand. All these months I’ve waited for the chance to…I mean…it’s just not fair!” she said in frustration, unable to hide her disappointment, aware that she had probably already said and revealed too much.

  “No, my dear, it is not. I confess I shall miss his company greatly as well, but if we are to embark today, and embark we must, then regretfully this is how it must be,” the marquis explained. Sérolène nodded in resignation, but the marquis could see that the wind had gone completely from her sails. He imagined that the long voyage, which she had in all likelihood welcomed with Nicolas aboard, now seemed a decidedly less appealing prospect.

  “Thank you for giving some comfort to my dearest friend,” the marquis declared. “Now if you’ll indulge me a moment to say my own goodbyes, we’ll see what can be done about arranging a more suitable one for you as well.”

  **

  If Nicolas had any doubts as to the differences between a civilian and a military ship, he was quickly apprised of the distinctions the moment he set foot on board the Fantassin. Everything about the ship spoke of regularity, order, and discipline. The senior officers stood on the bridge, the capitaine tall and thin with a distinguished air and a severe look about him that brooked no nonsense. He gave a stern glance toward Nicolas, who bowed low in a greeting that was only barely acknowledged. There was nothing for Nicolas to do but await his own instructions and he did so patiently, striving as best as he could to stay out of the way of the crew who were busily preparing the ship to set sail.

  His “orders” were soon transmitted by an officer whom he had observed speaking to the capitaine on the bridge. The man was compact and well-built, with a pleasant face and thick short legs that seemed well-suited for making his way around the busy deck. In great contrast to his capitaine, he also had a ready smile that complemented his blunt, honest features.

  “Monsieur le Chevalier d’Argentolle? Lieutenant Gabriel Antoine Fortier, at your service. I understand that you are to be quartered with us during the voyage?” the officer said with a bow, shaking Nicolas’ hand warmly as he introduced himself.

  “Yes, Lieutenant. It would appear so,” Nicolas said.

  “You’ve been assigned to share my quarters. They’re small, I warn you, and likely not very comfortable compared to what you’re used to, but I’m sure you’ll get accustomed to them soon enough,” the young officer declared.

  “You are v
ery kind, Lieutenant. My apologies for the trouble. You may let your capitaine know that I shall do my best to stay out of the way,” Nicolas said.

  “I would introduce you now, but Capitaine d’Armillac is in rather a testy mood at the moment and it’s best to steer clear of him,” the Lieutenant explained.

  “I sincerely hope I have not contributed to the cause of his annoyance. He looks a rather intimidating figure, I must say,” Nicolas observed.

  “That’s how it is with them. I suppose when it’s your profession to play God it has an effect upon you. Remember, his orders can mean life or death…for all of us,” Fortier explained, sizing up the ship’s young and unwanted guest. No use in telling you that the capitaine is very much annoyed with your presence aboard. This is a warship; it’s not a place for a young gentleman who is doubtless no seaman and therefore a useless mouth to carry and feed. But the orders to accept you as a passenger come from the vice-amiral himself. That means that you -- or more likely, your family -- have influential friends, which rankles the capitaine all the more, Fortier reflected.

  “If you wouldn’t mind, Lieutenant, I should like to accompany you on your rounds. Perhaps you or one of your men could also instruct me about the workings of such a great ship: how she sails, how your gun crews operate,” Nicolas said.

  “I’d be quite happy to show you around…but first let’s get your things stowed away,” Fortier said, giving orders for two seamen to carry Nicolas’ trunks below. He then gestured for Nicolas to follow him as they descended into the belly of the warship.

  “I know everything must seem very cramped to you. We don’t have the same comforts as the merchant vessels,” Fortier said.

  Nicolas was indeed surprised at how narrow the corridors were, how everything was given over to the various implements required to sail the ship, serve the guns, and feed the crew. The lieutenant’s quarters were small, barely big enough to fit Nicolas’ baggage. He felt guilty about the space he was taking up, now wishing he had brought only one trunk instead of two. With both him and the lieutenant in the cabin at the same time, there was barely room to move.

  “Come, I’ll show you where the mess is and the privy – the two most important things on a ship after your bunk,” Fortier said, his voice trailing off as he heard the sound of another visitor being piped aboard.

  “It seems we have more guests arriving. I wonder who the devil could be coming aboard now. This’ll really get the capitaine going. Don’t they understand we’ve a ship to make ready for sail?” the lieutenant said with exasperation. Nicolas nodded, embarrassed that he was also a contributor, though an unwilling one, to the disruption of the ship’s routine. He followed the lieutenant up to the main deck, wondering himself who could be arriving now. To his astonishment he saw his father standing on deck near the main mast. He hurried to his side, leaving the lieutenant to catch him up.

  “Father, has something happened? I had not thought to see you again before we reached France,” Nicolas said with concern.

  “No, my boy, nothing’s wrong. I just thought I might like to see your accommodations up close for myself before we set sail and to say a proper bon voyage…things were in such confusion back there I hadn’t the chance to do so. I also have a parting gift for you of sorts,” the marquis said, giving Nicolas a gentle pat on the shoulder.

  “Oh?” Nicolas inquired, but before the marquis could explain, Nicolas noticed the approach of Lieutenant Fortier and took the opportunity to introduce him to his father.

  “Lieutenant Fortier, may I present to you my father, Monsieur le Marquis de Blaise,” Nicolas said. The two men exchanged greetings, the lieutenant suitably deferential to the august personage he knew of only by the enormity of the reputation that preceded him.

  “I am indeed honored, Monsieur le Marquis,” Fortier replied with circumspection, now beginning to understand both who and what Nicolas really was.

  “If you please, Monseigneur, may I escort you to the capitaine? Only his duty, which requires his presence on the quarterdeck, prevents him from coming himself to greet you,” Fortier said. It was a small lie, but one that was necessary to prevent the marquis taking offense that the capitaine had not been there to greet him in person when he had come aboard. Blaise nodded his assent, following the lieutenant as he led the way to the quarterdeck to introduce the capitaine and the other officers to both of their guests. Nicolas noted how those who took very little interest in him when he came aboard by himself, displayed a markedly different attitude with regard to his father. The usual pleasantries concluded, it was the marquis who spoke first, as the privilege of his rank allowed.

  “Capitaine d’Armillac, what a magnificent ship you have. I see that I need not have worried over the safety of my son in the hands of such an able Capitaine and crew,” Blaise said gallantly, though his words also carried a warning. Keep my son safe, or else!

  “You honor us, Monsieur le Marquis,” the capitaine replied with a bow, aware now of the gravity of his error in overlooking his young guest. It was inexcusable that he had not been made aware that his passenger was not just another nobleman with connections, but the son of the famous Marquis de Blaise. Fortunately, the genial Fortier had been assigned as chaperone to the boy, and they appeared to be getting on well enough. He would speak to Fortier himself to make sure his charge was well looked after. He might even take the time to look in on his unwanted guest himself. After all, one never knew when a well-placed word might prove useful for advancement.

  “I assure you, Monsieur le Marquis, we’ll look after him as best as we can,” the capitaine said deferentially.

  “Splendid, Capitaine. I look forward to reporting as much to Amiral Vaudreuil. However, I’m afraid that I must first ask an additional favor of you,” the marquis said.

  “Both I and my ship are at your disposal, Monsieur,” the capitaine declared.

  “Excellent. I trust my request won’t trouble you over much. You see, my niece by marriage, the Vicomtesse de La Bouhaire, is rather fond of her cousin and was much saddened to be deprived of his company on the Belle Héloïse for the length of the voyage. It would greatly reassure her if she were able to see for herself what a capable ship and crew you have,” the marquis said, leaning in conspiratorially toward the capitaine.

  “She is such a delightful young lady. I promised her that I had friends in high places and could arrange it. Would you be so good as to allow me to keep my word?” the marquis asked. Capitaine d’Armillac nodded his head eagerly; glad to have an opportunity to do a service for an important man.

  “Of course, Monsieur,” he replied with surety, consulting his timepiece. They had just received a signal by semaphore from the vice-amiral’s flagship that they should be ready to depart within the hour. D’Armillac noted the direction of the wind, which was blowing briskly and favorably from the southeast and wouldn’t last forever. Nevertheless, it was his ship and he could do what he pleased within the limits of his orders.

  “We are somewhat pressed for time…when can we expect your visitor to arrive?” the capitaine asked.

  “She is already here along with her uncle, the Baron de Salvagnac. They came with me in the launch and await only your permission to come aboard. I took the liberty of having them accompany me just in case,” Blaise explained.

  “Very well, then. Lieutenant Fortier, have them piped aboard and bring out the sling for the vicomtesse,” Capitaine d’Armillac ordered.

  The orders were carried out with the promptness one would expect of a veteran warship and crew. Sérolène was first to come aboard, Nicolas unable to contain his smile as he saw her rise in the air above the deck, her countenance serene despite the height as she held on to the side ropes, the waiting party of officers and dignitaries standing on deck preparing to receive her.

  “Thank you, Father,” Nicolas whispered quietly in the marquis’ ear. The marquis nodded, motioning to his son to take Sérolène’s arm as she was helped from the sling and onto the deck before one of th
e officers beat him to the honor, the baron having climbed up the side ladder to join them in the meantime. Nicolas hurried over to the new arrivals, greeting the baron before turning to offer Sérolène his arm. She accepted gratefully, disappointing the owners of the many other arms on offer. Nicolas was also given the further honor of presenting the vicomtesse and her uncle to the ship’s officers, the marquis looking on with fatherly pride as Nicolas and Sérolène exchanged pleasantries with the other officers and the capitaine.

  How they fight for her attention, all seeking either with word or gesture to impress. Herein lies the true power of beauty. Through her presence alone, she makes those around her compliant, enhancing both her own desirability and the status of the man who possesses her. No doubt when she matures into the fullness of womanhood, an invitation to her salon will be a most sought-after reward indeed, the marquis reflected to himself. The introductions concluded, the small group proceeded to take a tour around the ship, the capitaine doing the honors, followed closely by his distinguished guests and officers. Sérolène and Nicolas trailed at a discreet distance, bringing up the rear of the colorful party.