Alaric Longward - Cantiniére Tales)

by Reign of Fear: Story of French Revolution

  We were put on the strange wagon, with the guards running after. Our usual guard was hovering on the yard with his men, apparently contemplating on challenging the sergeant, but the sergeant had eyes that would not take part in arguments, unless to finish them. So the back of the wagon was opened with practiced and deft movements, the sergeant lifted us, enjoying his liberties as he pushed us up by our rears. In the sorry wagon, confused men sat. Some were young nobles, others scruffy workers, all silent and forlorn, most wondering why they were at the Temple. Some had hoped they would stay here, but it was not to be, for we heard harsh laughter, sharp commands and so the wagon took off with a jerk, the horses whinnied in surprise, and soon mother and I stared around the sights so long denied us.

  We passed the shadowy gateway, and while it was cold breeze whipping across it, outside the Temple the sun shone brilliantly, covering us with gentle spring warmth. I cried as I felt the joy, unexplainable, all encompassing joy of being free, at least of the Temple. It was a curious feeling to be out of the Temple, as if nothing was real, but a cruel dream and even mother looked strange and unfamiliar in the strange setting. Yet, we felt both happy and detached as we gazed at Paris. The smells and sounds engulfed our senses, most we had nearly forgotten. We rumbled along the streets, holding on to each other. A man wept, as the wagon headed for the Il d’la Cite and I smiled like the happiest person for seeing the filthy streets again. Not much had changed. We crossed a bridge and saw the Notre Dame, or Temple of Reason as they called it now, and heard people shout at us. Whether in encouragement, or thirsting for blood, we did not know. Birds sang in their uncaring freedom, and mother and I were speechless in the brutally sudden change of habitat. We drank in the sights and sucked in the smells of Paris, no matter how foul.

  Then, all too quickly the wagon pulled at the medieval prison of La Concierge, near the Revolutionary Court. A fat merchant sitting near us grinned. ‘Ah, the final stop. A chance to plead innocent, then meet the Madame and Sanson. Brave faces, girls,’ he said, and jumped down, ready to be ushered forward by harried looking guards. People were walking in and out of the prison, some evidently seeing their relatives before the end. Many were streaming to see the court cases in the nearby tribunal.

  We were confused by everything we saw and heard, jumpy and nervous. The sergeant pulled us down, again groping us while smiling a good-natured, innocent smile. A boy-like guard of La Concierge stepped up, as the sergeant slapped an order to his thin hand. The man read the paper, slowly, apparently not the most literary person. He glanced at us and went to speak to another guard, who fetched some more papers. Then, burdened with documents, he came back. He had a confused look on his face, harried and desperate. ‘Citizen, there is some confusion. This order says one thing, the other something else.’ His eyes looked aghast and terrified at making a mistake, not something to embrace in his current employment.

  The sergeant shrugged, pulled him closer, whispered something harshly, and gave him a small leather bag and the guard nodded, his confidence returned. He eyed the bag, weighing it and it jingled. The sergeant winked at us and hope was rekindled in our hearts. The guard tore an order and stacked the other one to his pocket. He grunted at us and stomped closer.

  ‘Henriette Baxa?’ he asked brusquely, despite his child-like looks. Mother nodded, eyeing the medieval entry hall, the shadows, and the men around it. A man was laughing fiercely somewhere.

  ‘Georges Danton wishes to talk to you,’ he said. ‘After that, you go free. Rare thing! Did you piss your skirt?’

  She stared at him, wonder evident on her face. ‘Not quite.’

  They laughed, the sergeant gathered his men, gave me a wet kiss on the cheek, which I happily granted him, and left. Then I realized we would meet with Georges, perhaps Camille soon.

  They were in prison.

  The guard escorted us through the hallway, and to the upstairs by wide, crude stairs. A rat scuttled away, but not fast enough for the swift guard to miss it. He kicked it, and it squealed as it spun to the darkness. People were laughing in their final hours, gambling away as they would not have to pay their debts, reading as much as they could and some were crying helplessly in the cells, and finally, we were stopped in front of a lavishly decorated one. A large man in fine coat was seated there, his hands on his face. He looked up and saw us. The guard hesitated, and Georges scowled, as he threw the man some coins. ‘I have more people I must see.’

  The guard laughed. ‘They will be here! If you have more coin.’

  Georges spat. ‘Have you not heard? I am corrupt! Of course, I have more money. Now, open the door.’

  ‘No humping them, then,’ the guard said sternly. ‘I got admonished for the whore last night.’

  ‘This one is a friend,’ Georges growled. The guard smiled in a disbelieving way, as he locked us up with Danton. We stared at Georges; he looked back, his eyes sad, moist. He was heavier he used to be, but otherwise almost the same. A man bursting with strength and life.

  Yet, he was about to die.

  After awhile, he opened his mouth and closed it. Then he spoke: ‘I spent a lot of my remaining pilfered coin to save you.’

  Henriette looked incredulously at him. ‘You spent coin? We are grateful. Yet, you never set us free, as you promised. Remember? You got the power, then left us to rot there, in a fucking prison. People died there, you know, of pneumonia, terrible fever and things we do not understand.’

  He looked uncomfortable at the way the discussion was going. ‘I did, yes. I could tell you that it was because in that place I could keep you safe. Pierre was very loyal to me. Then, suddenly, things were going to hell. I did not know thousands would die. I had to fight, you see, to stay alive. I failed. I was also afraid you would go to… some other man.’

  Henriette looked down. ‘You were jealous of Camille, or just damnably proud and possessive?’

  He nodded, a man with nothing to hide. Unlike my father, he was not concerned with survival. ‘I do not know if I was jealous of Camille. Yes, he is a better man than I am. Romantic and fine. Perhaps I was afraid that you would go with any other man than me and I could not stand the thought. You see, it has been hard.’

  ‘Hard?’ I asked, my voice rising, but he was waving his hands frantically, and I let him continue.

  ‘Hard, yes. I wanted there to be a change for France, you know this. After all was done, I had what I wanted. I wanted…’

  Henriette laughed cruelly. ‘You wanted to be rich as the royals you hated, retire into opulence and then fetch us from the dark prison and take up where you left us. Years past. Are you mad?’ The last word echoed in the hallway, and Georges stopped to listen to it.

  He whispered, embracing the echoing word. ‘Yes. I am mad. I wanted everything. I betrayed you, Camille as well. He loved you so much, in an insipid, childish way. I forced him to marry Lucile. I tortured his conscience until he did, and now, I can only say I am sorry. He wanted to help you already before and especially after he saw Maximillien change to a beast. I was going to try to fix things between you and me after my wife died. I was already writing an order. Then I got scared. I was a coward and married another woman. I do not love her, but I needed someone.’

  ‘You are a mess, are you not, Georges,’ Henriette said quietly, her voice betraying some emotion, though not mercy. ‘You needed not have bothered. I would have said no.’

  He rubbed his face. ‘I know. That is why I did not let you go. God, life is confusing. Now, Camille will die, likely his unhappy wife too. I wanted to say; I am sorry. I needed money, I needed you. I got the money, but dared not let you go. I did think about you, Henriette. The letter I gave you, I have never sent one to anyone else. Not even to my wives. It held meaning.’

  ‘You tried to have Gilbert kill me,’ I told him frankly. ‘How were you going to patch that up? Or were you planning on keeping mother while sending me to Americas so I would not remind you of what you did?’

  He looked away. ‘Oh, Jeanette. I have
gotten hundreds of people killed, and cannot send their ghosts across the sea. I told Maillard to give that beggar girl to him, but not you. He was to have Gilbert punish you lightly for the eye, but not kill you. Maillard did not care enough to obey, and so, I lost all.’

  ‘Maillard did not know where we went,’ I said with a small voice, hating him for his callous attitude for poor Marie-Louise.

  He shrugged. ‘Bah, he is a bastard. He will hang one day. Or lose his head, rather.’ He smiled perversely, and then sobered. ‘I doubt he would have followed my order anyway. He looted some of the finest silver in Versailles, you see, when he was to look after you.’

  ‘Marie-Louise is on your conscience,’ I said, merciless as an avenging angel. ‘Many others, as you said.’ I was going to blame him for Pierre and Robert, but swallowed in self-loathing, for that had been my fault.

  ‘A long list that, Jeanette! I was angry you put me in such a situation, for you did not trust me to give your father to you to punish after I got my coins. Know that I grew up with little. Then the gods smiled and gave me change for everything! So, yes, I put you in danger, love. But I have burned for it.’ He got up and stalked back and forth as would a trapped bear.

  ‘You are a murderer,’ I hissed at him. ‘I shot a man for a crime; you shot Colbert and Sara for your future.’

  ‘I did! I said it!’ he shouted, his face red.

  ‘And now Gilbert is after us,’ I said with despair.

  He nodded. ‘He is. However, I did not give you to Gilbert. He is an animal, I am not. Gilbert, the fucking rat, has hitched himself to old, conservative Maximillien, the man who took over, the blood-handed, mad dog and his simpering brother Augustin and to the rest of the sibilant conspirators.’

  ‘Conspirators indeed,’ I spat.

  ‘There are many, Jeanette. Not one is to be trusted.’ His eyes were careful. ‘Now, tomorrow, they will condemn us. I spoke there, in the very court I created, and fought so hard I should have won, but I have killed good friends and too many of my enemies, and who remains will all bury me even if it means death to them later. They forced us to face our so-called trial with nobody to speak for us, and we will not have right to speak ourselves either, not anymore, the cowards. I will follow the idiot king and the vapid queen, and lie down on their last bed. I will die. Camille will. Perhaps my family as well, if Maximillien wishes to be a damned perfectionist. But they promised me, so I trust them, and keep quiet.’ I felt a pang of sorrow for the Queen, as I fingered the handkerchief she had given me.

  ‘What now, Georges, dear,’ Henriette asked, leaning on the bars. We were tired and rather weak after years in prison.

  He appraised her. ‘You look pale and thin, and I am sorry. I sent you a lot of food.’

  ‘It matters not,’ mother said. ‘We shared it.’

  Danton came to us and put a hand on our shoulders. ‘You would, I know. The revolution? I did do it for the people, also for the people. It was not all for me. However, such a power corrupts, Jeanette, Henriette. I have been walking a route that I could not turn from. Desire, hate. I have had a dozen women while married, I have robbed innocents, killed people with dangerous opinions, and schemed honest people to ruin, and I have cheated even myself. Nevertheless, there are but few things amidst all that horror that I remember with fondness. Only a few things make me smile and I have only few memories without fear soiling them. My family, and you two. You see, even if I was after money, I have rarely felt as much joy as I did when I shot your loathsome relative, for what he was, was a piece of gristle. A filthy rapist bastard. It made me feel better about myself, even if you are right, Jeanette, that I wanted to rob him blind. Moreover, I did love you, Henriette. Like I did my wife.’

  Mother relented, and embraced him tentatively. He hugged her gently, and he pulled me to him as well. I resisted for a second but gave in. After a while, he sat down. ‘You are so strong. I want you to survive. Tomorrow, I will have my head shown to the crowd. I will join all the fools and innocents, the failed generals, and traitors to whichever cause they happened to betray. I am only happy that I know Robespierre will join me.’

  ‘Maximillien was your friend?’ I asked him, coaxing him to share his thoughts, for he was afraid and needed to speak about his disappointment and coming death. ‘Surely you had weapons to use against them.’

  His eyes went dark. ‘Weapons? Oh, I have a weapon. One I could use. But it would cost me my children. There is a reason why they too are not facing this fate.’

  ‘They threaten your children?’ Henriette asked, disgusted.

  Georges agreed with her disgust by looking down. ‘They do. So I shall go as silently as I can. Maximillien was never my friend, just a useful ally, but he always had plans. He was quiet, then suddenly not. Always fear the quiet people, my friends, for they think and plot and it will be evil when they act. Gilbert knew him well, though, I must say. Your cousin’s greatest asset is his nose. He sniffles like the finest hound would and I think he knew from early on, Maximillien was a man to note. Gilbert was vital to me, but in the end, gave the Robespierre’s what they wanted. Information on their foes. On me. Most invented, but then, some was not. God, but your cousin, the so-called Revenant, is a creature the high men fear. An assassin, a spy, who has his own unknown agendas.’

  ‘He is mad, is he not?’ I asked.

  Georges fidgeted, as if thinking what he could say. ‘Mad? Perhaps. He has a temper. Perhaps he is not so mad as desperate.’

  ‘He thinks himself an undead monster,’ I spat.

  ‘No, he created such a story, yet, loves. Many men are superstitious, and certainly it adds to his darkness. But few really care about that. He is not terrified by this sudden exposure of him not being a dead man walking, but the fact that there are people who know what he was. You know this. Deep inside, he is still a sad, shuddering little boy. His childhood makes him a driven, desperate little liar, who happens to be very smart and merciless. Imagine, he was wearing rags when I took him in!’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘He was not always bad, and there are a lot of good memoires about him, why…’

  Henriette put a hand on my shoulder. ‘Adam, love, killed him a long time ago. He is very, very angry and confused.’

  ‘He is ruthless now,’ Georges growled. ‘I let my guard down. I was doomed after I started to clamor for peace. I was tired; I wanted the bloodshed to cease. So did Camille. In addition, I took time off with my children, and new wife. Robespierre is mad. Like an inquisitor soiled in wine. They fear him, I know, and he will join me and meet Sanson the Executioner. Perhaps, then it will be over, and revolution will grow into Republic.’

  I nodded, uncertainly. ‘Only if they have bread.’

  He grinned. ‘Indeed. Only then.’

  ‘What happened to Mirabeau?’ I asked him carefully. ‘Camille cursed some contract. Has Gilbert done something…’

  ‘Ah, this,’ he said, smiling nervously, hesitating but decided to speak. ‘You have a good nose as well. Now that is the weapon I could still use, if I had this contract. Perhaps I could talk about it even without it.’

  ‘What is this contract, Georges?’ I asked him, hopefully.

  ‘When men are desperate, close men who know each other, like the ones we trusted, the ones in our club and our henchmen with foul ideas, then those men risk all together. We did sign a paper, all of us and someone did have a brilliant idea how to sweep our opposition away. It is a sinful paper that. If you find yourself in need of something heavy to use, find what Gilbert knows about this deed. Remember that Gilbert made his uses by gathering shit and smear, but this one deed made him the man he is. One Robspierre’s trust, and perhaps fear. They should, if Gilbert stole it. They all signed it, you see. It made us all, but at the same time, it is the greatest handicap for the lot of us. If Gilbert took it, he guards it well and perhaps, if he stole it, he intends to extort the men who signed it to climb to a very, very high place. It might also be his weakness, for he signed it as well. Our si
n was deadly, and many loved Mirabeau. It would not look well for the men in power these days, should it surface Do not tell Gilbert I spoke of it, I beg, for my children. Just remember. If you find this contract, then you will be a threat to other men as well. Dangerous men. Men who threaten and then kill, or sometimes just kill. These men are not like I thought them to be. They hate France and only fill their own coffers. They will guard their fortunes. Be wary.’

  ‘But…’ I started but he shook his head.

  Henriette looked around uncertainly, he saw it. He waved his hand. ‘You are free. You shall not be the unhappy sacrifices that follow this fallen king to his grave. I had that much influence still, and knew some useful men as you saw. That sergeant was a man in the Cordeliers and loves me still. And, I have here a pouch. It holds some coin. It is modest prize, but it will feed you for some time. I am giving up on my next night’s whore, so do not say I never made sacrifices. My last chance for a woman, I might add.’

  ‘I thank you for that,’ Henriette said tartly.

  ‘A grand sacrifice it is for me, and a loss to the women of Paris,’ he said with a grin.

  We smiled at his brave words and he was visibly grateful, then his eyes focused and he cleared his throat, looking down at his hands. ‘On the matter of Gilbert. No matter if he is mad or driven, he is doing something. I think you need to go to Lyons. The rebelling city fell to general Kellerman and I know you are worried over your children.’

  Henriette’s breath was ragged from fear. ‘Yes, I am. Is there something else?’

  He took a deep breath, for the news was terrible. ‘Gilbert has been busy as a bee for years to find out where I hide the letters from your family. At first, he might have lulled himself to believe you did die and his attempts to find your children was slow, if constant, but at some point there were rumors circulating of his past disgrace and that he, the Revenant was bested by his still very much alive cousin. He went frantic. Men died, but the rumors persisted. A week past, Camille saw Gilbert looking at this,’ he gave me a letter. ‘Camille kept them hidden, documents like this, and hoped to give them to you later. I had a man make sure they were safe, as you know. But they were not safe from Lucile, his wife. Apparently, she saw this one, perhaps forgotten on the desk? She gave it to Gilbert before the trial, out of spite for you. Women are terrible creatures, they are. Truly.’