‘You don’t like the tune?’ I asked her, uncaring.
‘No, she is telling people that you are Henri’s whore,’ she told me bluntly.
I nodded and groaned. It was inevitable, I realized, for the camp was rife with rumors, and soldiers, love, were worse than old gossip mongering women in that regard. It was the boredom, love. I cursed softly, as I glanced my increasingly impatient mother. I did not know the answer. Perhaps, in some way I had been his whore, I think, and I wanted to be more, but for the bastard’s lack of human decency and his high airs, it was not likely. ‘Have you tried to talk to her?’ I asked, tired with the discussion that was bound to leave me reeling. ‘Perhaps I should I beat her for the insult?’
‘She is not a woman who is beaten easily, love. I did talk to her, but Thierry told me to fuck off,’ mother said. ‘They hope Gilbert will get us, but if that is not the case? We should look out, for there are the men in the fourth company who do not like Henri. Marcel says they have killed men before for Thierry. Three men, especially, are dangerous, one is the captain Voclain, he said, and two corporals, one they call the Poxy Fox, a gaunt man, the other one just Didier, a strong one. The three from the night we arrived, standing outside the tent. They did things that made even the Jacobin’s blanch in Paris and Marseilles and joined the unhappy army to avoid the sharp, falling blade. Marcel said that he heard they hung an officer in May, one unsuspecting lieutenant in their rebellious company. Nobleman, he used to be. Thierry is close to them, and they have been talking with the damned Cleft, I know, early this morning. Zealous and foolish Cleft needs friends, though I think he is more confused and angry than a fanatic, or, he might be just plain jealous. You flirted with him, then you turned your back on him yesterday and the rumors started after he spoke with the men I mentioned.’
‘I was being kind to Victor, to Cleft. I liked his spirit and him, kind of. Anything else is in his head,’ I told her hollowly.
‘Learn, love, that you must close such doors quickly and not let anyone dream the impossible. Men will never think a woman is looking for friendship, for that would maul their self-esteem.’
‘I had no such illusions for him and I don’t think it’s fair he would punish me…’
‘The milk is on the floor, Jeanette,’ she said bitterly and spat as she glowered at Vivien, whose face never seemed to have an emotion.
‘Perhaps I should tell people Cleft and Laroche are lovers,’ I growled.
She nudged me. ‘This is important, Jeanette. Thierry and Vivien are telling everyone you slept with the captain last night. The soldiers will not like it. We have to weather this and hope the men do not abandon us. Officers are off-limits. Makes you look like a sort of a woman who climbs into bed to be elevated. The sort that get pregnant for well-to-do’s.’
‘I did not sleep with him,’ I told her woodenly.
‘But it is enough they think so,’ she hissed. ‘None will stand up for us, unless we are one of them. Not one of them has slept with the captain. Officers, Jeanette, are to be left alone, for while they risk their necks like the men, they are forever above the ranks, and always a bit dirty for the fact. One does not try to step above the ranks if one is to lean on them.’
I felt like crying, but anger took over. ‘You are the one to admonish me for this? You married Marcel so he could elevate us from danger to safety and you slept with half the Paris instead of fighting the whoremasters,’ I said with a dry laugh and shook my head as I began to braid it. ‘Henri has killed men. He said he would protect us, still. That is important, as well, not only the trust of these men around us.’
‘Still, Jeanette?’ Her voice was dry and irritated. Mothers, Marie, cannot be pushed too far if you expect to escape an argument unscathed. ‘Have you or have you not done something foul with the citizen captain?’ she asked, carefully articulating each word. ‘I told him not to touch you. I told you not to touch him.’ She whipped the horse savagely and I nearly fell off the wagon and knew she had done that on purpose, but I pretended not to notice.
‘I want no men near me, ever, mother,’ I told her softly. ‘I am no whore.’ I glanced at her and she saw it.
‘Whore,’ she said bitterly. ‘Let us hope you will never have to try that profession, and if you do, you will be sorry you speak to me like this,’ she said, smoldering. ‘You will cry like I did, every night. Marcel is different, Jeanette. It’s possible I fell in love with him for what he did for us and not for opportunity to escape. I am not sure, Jeanette, but I think I love him and you do not sully it by suggesting otherwise.’
I decided I had gone far enough. ‘He has no feelings for me, mother,’ I said neutrally and felt her cunning eyes fall on me. She was not angry anymore, apparently, and that annoyed me for some reason, for she was very astute, and understood I had been turned down, but she did not know the full story either. Had I or had I not slept with Henri, this concerned her, for she knew it might change things. It was a bigger issue for us than I had given it credit for; I realized as Charles, one of the men in the company gazed at me while talking with Breadcrumbs. He did not answer my smile. Yesterday, I was their hero, today, they had doubts about me, and we were only safe if these men respected us. ‘I am sorry, mother.’
She grunted irascibly. ‘At least I do not have to shoot him. I am sorry for you, girl, and no matter if you tell the truth or not. Much better that he and you are not together, for such men have all the power in a relationship and few decline to use the power to get what they wish for.’ He did indeed have power over me. I thought bitterly of the humiliation last night.
I felt listless, but angry at the same time. ‘I will shoot him, perhaps. I know I decided to avoid men for the rest of my damned life, but I wonder if I can. Perhaps I shall have men, but dispose of them when I am done with them, to spare any future complications, save the burial,’ I crumbled and heard Marcel snicker as he marched nearby. I glanced at him murderously, hoping he had not heard our discussion over him, but he tried to mollify me by a wink, apparently uncaring if he did. ‘I hate them,’ I hissed at him. ‘Men.’
‘It is not easy for men either, girl,’ Marcel said sheepishly, ‘especially when a woman is young and flippant.’ He put a meaningful eye my way.
‘Thank you, Marcel for the fatherly advice. Yet, you are not my father,’ I spat and went silent as Marcel just chuckled and calmed Henriette with some subtle, calming hand motions.
We stopped to eat and loot in the afternoon, but Chambon quickly moved us forward, and men were grumbling for their sad footwear was falling apart. My shoes had carried me so far, but they also started to show wear and tear, and I could see my little toe. I saw Henri at the head of the column using a small telescope to scan the quiet hills ahead, and soon, we came to the outskirts of the famous pass. There we stopped. The pass, if it was indeed that, was barely perceptible and the road was winding towards northeast. The hills around us did not look too steep, but apparently, this was the best way to reach the coast from the north, and the likely route an enemy would march with heavy baggage and heavier guns.
Suddenly, we spied a hussar in his fancy pelisse and high cap riding from the greenery of the hills amidst a cloud of dust, and then, after looking for a leader, finally speaking with Chambon where we could barely see them. Soon after, the captains were summoned.
Laroche approached me. He saw me sitting on the new wagon, one we planned to sell, and came to stand next to me, a curious look on his fat face. ‘What?’ I asked the man; afraid of his strange mood and the fact the men seemed to gossip about Henri and me. Laroche’s humor was deadly sarcastic and I feared he had made up a military name for me. One I would not enjoy. “Harlot” might be appropriate.
He took a helmet off his greasy head and crashed forward, his sweaty face on my lap, my skirt almost smothering him. My eyes rounded in shock as the man’s round face was resting on my thighs, and men were laughing raucously around us. He mumbled. ‘I am so sorry. So very sorry. I thought you would follow,’
he sniffed unclearly from amidst my skirts.
‘I had a sergeant to save,’ I said stiffly, but patted his head awkwardly, looking aghast at the lice in his hair.
‘Can you tell them,’ he begged, ‘to give me my rations now. For I am truly sorry, nonetheless.’
I was looking at Vivien, who was receiving items from Thierry. It was a bag of loot, bottles of fine wine and, apparently a great wedge of moldy cheese, and I spied a tall, gangly, toothless man leaving. That was one of the men mother had mentioned, the Poxy Fox, but I was more interested in what had just taken place, as men flocked around her wagon keen on sharing on the bounty. ‘Are you a thief?’
He stiffened and tried to get up, but I did not let him, taking hold of his filthy hair and holding him painfully still.
Skins called out: ‘she likes it, she does! Enjoy, Laroche!’
I made a rude sign to him and accosted Laroche ‘Are you?’
‘Marcel said I was, and a poacher, so perhaps that is true? He seems to have a good nose for men’s past,’ he mumbled, suspicious, anticipating his actions with the uhlans would be costly.
‘Are you any good of a thief?’
‘You ate like a bloody queen on the way here, did you not, girl, burping and farting after the sumptuous fares I provided,’ he said, indignant. That was true.
‘So, here is how we will do this. You told me I was a pansy girl and could not pull my weight, did you not?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Fine, you can pull some of your weight, but I still doubt you could…’
‘Shsh, silent. So, you will be our procurer of victuals and other items to be sold, Laroche, and you will teach me how to loot and steal. You will find others to help us and share on the spoils, for it will be good for the company, good for mother and me and I suspect best for you.’
He nodded slowly on my lap. ‘Really? I am to work for you? This is a fairly bleeding massive prize to pay for leaving you there, I think.’
‘I can tell everyone how you pissed your lovely new pants when the uhlans blew their brazen trumpets, and then you shivered, hollered incoherently and fell over a fence, and cried as you ran.’
‘You would not dare! It’s not true, even!’
‘Yes, I would. I risked being raped by a squadron of Poles. Have you ever risked that? I doubt you have, and I doubt they would have you, I know, but I did.’
He thought carefully about it for a while and shook his head slowly. I let go of his nasty head, and grinned at Henriette, who shrugged at me, approving, though she was ever worried about my soul.
Evidently, he had moved from indecision to decision, for he was already thinking ahead, not getting up from my lap. ‘Perhaps that Charles, a right devilish boy he is, young looking but he has no conscience. Right seems to like me and is strong as an ox, and can carry a struggling cow, if need be. Sadly, Left is too thick and full of sad confusion. I have to ask around because I don’t want to team up with men I don’t know. They might procure things for Vivien on the side. Marcel, of course, has to give us passes and permissions, so we can go out to do these things.’ He was excited now, and I believe he started to enjoy the idea of making a criminal league that might make us all rich.
‘Agreed,’ I said as Marcel just rolled his eyes, little caring, and went around the wagon, and pulled at Laroche’s ear to get him up.
‘You work for us then, my friend, but get the hell off her now,’ he said darkly.
‘Not yet, sergeant’ the thief said lecherously to Marcel as he resisted the pull. ‘It smells good in here,’ he mumbled, and added: ‘though there is a whiff of a captain lingering around.’ I cursed and pulled at his hair until he got off my lap. He smoothed his hair before he pulled on his hat, and winked. ‘They all say it is so, and asked if I had bedded you on the way here, as if I was interested in one so young and innocent. Vivien did not believe me.’
‘Oh?’ I asked, hurt. ‘Cleft told them this shit?’
‘Cleft, perhaps, yes? He was bitter last night,’ Laroche suggested, smiling at my sour face. ‘He nearly struck me, as I told him he is a cuckold.’
I gazed Cleft’s way, and saw he was sitting under a gnarled poplar tree, and was chatting with the wide shouldered Didier, one of the Jacobins. ‘We have no agreement with Cleft, and I have nothing with the captain, you imbecile. I don’t want to antagonize Cleft more, though. Stop teasing him and you have to stop slapping my rear. It will not take you anywhere, anyway, and you can keep your virginity.’
He smiled and leaned forward as if to impart a secret. ‘I am not,’ he whispered, ‘interested in girls.’
‘Then why do you touch my ass?’ I asked him, confused.
‘It’s a bit like a man’s ass,’ he told me in all seriousness. ‘Bony and wart-ridden. I like such freaks of nature.’
‘It is not! It’s pretty and pleasant you damned mongrel!’ I yelled at him, too loudly and men snickered all around us as I blushed.
‘In all seriousness, yes, it is, I have only done so to discomfort you. I cannot help it. I was always trouble when I grew up and cannot help but antagonize people I like.’ He looked honest.
I forgave him and hugged him. He squeezed my behind nonetheless and I kicked him off me painfully, confused over what he was. We gave him some eggs, which were almost gone already. Men approached the wagon; a chasseur wanted to buy some of the remaining wine, but had nothing to pay with. Henriette took him aside and gave him a tin mug full of good wine. ‘Pay later, citizen,’ she said happily, and the man nodded appreciatively. She glanced at me and saw my concerned scowl.
I shook my head disapprovingly. ‘I know we have to be friends to all of the men, but what if he dies? We won’t get paid.’
She laughed at me happily, and I felt foolish. ‘What?’ I asked.
‘Dear girl,’ she said. ‘This is our home. I like them. Poor bastards will indeed die one day. These men will likely never be paid, nor will we, and if we make any money, it is from our own activities, not from the money these men might have. I do approve of you using Laroche and the others, for we have to stake our place and fight for our livelihood.’
‘I like them too,’ I said and despite my tarnished reputation I agreed, feeling strangely at home in the company, where we might die anytime, to terrible diseases, to enemy muskets or to Gilbert’s schemes. Mother was right, and I was happy I had the strange Laroche as an ally, even if I rued losing Cleft.
The wind was blowing gently through the silent fields and hillsides, when we spotted Henri coming back, looking like an upset god, his stride long, and his chin hard as a rock, veins bulging in his forehead. ‘Citizen Boulton! Sergeants!’ he yelled, and Marcel along with the other sergeants moved forward, following the lieutenant. They were crouching under the canopy of low hanging trees, the captain giving over many cigars to his noncommissioned officers. Sergeant major Thierry was slouching nearby, talking to captain Voclain, whose rat’s face was scanning the activity, taking note of all that happened, and they seemed to enjoy themselves. Henri got up, and pointed at Thierry to come over, but the sergeant major turned his back insolently. Captain Voclain waved his hand. ‘Sergeant major is summoned by the colonel! He has a job for him and his wife.’ Henri ignored him, his eyes remaining on Thierry’s back. Vivien shouted: ‘heyaah!’ as she whipped her horse, and smiled rarely at us as she turned the cumbersome wagon away, and Thierry followed her with the grinning Voclain.
Then Henri grabbed Marcel’s shoulder, gesturing down the road towards north. The captain got up, spat at Chambon’s general direction, and snapped his fingers loudly. He was a bastard, Marie, but a bastard that was so glorious, so strong. God, I hated and loved him, but instead, I scowled as he glanced our way.
Soon, the sergeants were running, pulling up the sixty crumbling men of the company, ordering a triple battle line while rest of the battalion was staying still, curiously looking on at our preparations. Surprised, the men were grabbing their muskets from the faiseaux of muskets leaning on each other. ‘Ca
ntiniére!’ Boulton called out. ‘Get the wagon and follow along. Only one wagon, and stay near me!’ I grimaced as Henri walked past for his horse and he flashed an annoyed look at me, but I did not care, for a woman is allowed her grudges. I found Humps and left my pilfered wagon in his care, and he looked uncertainly at our preparations.
‘What is going on?’ he asked as his quick eyes darted around. ‘Where is the company going?’
‘Forward, Humps, my friend,’ I told him, pecked him on the soft cheek and he grinned. I glowered at Voclain and Thierry whose eyes followed me emotionlessly. Then I hugged mother briefly, feeling the curious tingle soldiers have before something foul is about to befall them. I avoided her grasp and scampered off to find the lieutenant, who smiled as he regarded me, swishing the ground with his thin sword, his formerly fine blue habit full of stubborn hay and sticky thorns.
‘What is going on?’ I asked him. ‘Is it customary for the cantiniére to trundle along like this?’
‘The captain would not leave you there with the colonel. We will go ahead and have a look-see over the hill in this thrice-damned pass. It is by the command of the colonel, our lord and master, who thinks there is nothing out there, but frightened hares and stray pigeons.’
Reign of Fear: Story of French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars (Cantiniére Tales) Page 29