‘I was a lieutenant of the fifth company.’
‘Was? And what are you now?’ the general said. Boulton leaned forward, handing over a yellowed paper to the old general. As he bent, Voclain saw me, and never, Marie, have I seen a man go sheet-white as he did. He stammered, got up quickly, holding his head in terror, apparently contemplating flight and lies, took an involuntary step back and shook in terror as he barely held his peace. I gazed at him calmly, enjoying the vacant look of absolute terror on his face.
‘Sir,’ he stammered. ‘As the acting colonel of the company, I would like to…’
The general’s hand shoot up, silencing the bastard. ‘It seems citizen colonel was expecting Boulton back. Major Boulton, it seems, the young man is now. So, as he outranks you, and he will take over.’
‘Sir!’ Voclain said, desperate. ‘Surely I know the troops and the situation better?’
‘No,’ the general said, relishing the word. ‘Major, say your goodbyes to the good colonel, as he is sorely hurt. We will take him to the hospital.’
‘No,’ I said, adding, ‘Sir.’
‘And you are?’ the old general asked tartly. ‘I have seen you before?’
‘A cantiniére, nothing more. Colonel. He wanted to die with his men, and so we will steal a doctor if we must, but he will die in a hospital for sure.’
‘He has to go to the hospital, surely…’ Voclain started, but Boulton interrupted him.
‘With your permission, let him stay, sir. And there is a matter that has to be settled, a matter concerning the cantiniére, and the men who shot the colonel.’
‘Shot the colonel?’ asked the general in bewilderment, and Voclain quaked, a tick in his eye. I grabbed Boulton’s arm, shaking my head gently, and he was eyeing me carefully. He understood.
‘Nothing sir, we will handle it.’
And indeed, we did.
Later, Cleft was crying bitterly, helpless. Charles, wounded on the side by a bullet had made his way to the camp, greatly welcomed by everyone, was now holding Cleft down in the wet mossy glade, a bayonet on the man’s throat. Laroche was leaning on his musket, gazing around, his chest wound bleeding. Breadcrumbs and Marcel were flanking us, and Syphilis was holding a rope, trying to find a tree that held promise as gallows. He claimed it was a form of art to choose the right one, and I believed him. I was kneeling before Cleft.
He shook in fear as he looked at Syphilis.
‘Skins is dead,’ I told him matter-of-factly. ‘Humps died. Charles nearly died, so did Laroche. Henri, my friend, is dying. And Voclain told me you helped him. Perhaps you knew about Humps as well? I always wondered.’
‘No!’ he said, trying to grab his rosaries from the moss. ‘I will swear on the Holy Mother, I was not helping them, not back then, not now. I was set up, on both times!’
‘You were smitten by me; I was smitten by someone else. You thought a simple discussion was fanciful flirt and you could not forgive me for your mistakes. You made me a whore, a reputation some still believe in. So, you took the plunge to hell and made a deal with the fuckers,’ I told him, calmly as I could. ‘To even the score.’
His eyes did not leave Syphilis and the rope. He spoke quickly, hopeless. ‘You lied to me, when you came to me that day. You never intended to give us a chance.’
‘No, but I intended to help you with Vivien, and Vivien was the one you spoke with, who knew we were after the fuckers, and then, yesterday, you told me that she saw this farm with a cow while you lot were skirmishing. She was worried about the baby, you said.’
‘She said she was afraid for you and the baby, she did, and she did see the farm, and was right! Was she not?’ he struggled, Charles grinned at him and Laroche came forward and hit him. He spat blood, howled in pain, nearly choking in vomit. The fat thief raised his hand again, but I put my hand up and Laroche stopped, cursing.
‘You said you are an intelligent man. You did not find this suspicious?`
He looked away, his eyes full of despair. ‘She wanted to be with me, and so she helped you, said you had an agreement, or had had words. She wanted to be rid of Thierry. Perhaps I am not wise in these matters, and I hate you, maybe, but I did not wish for you to die. And we were to go up there only the next day! You went early, and…’
‘Henri is near death,’ I hissed at him. ‘Humps killed. Skins is gone. And you say you did not hate me enough to sell us to them?’
‘They fooled me! Played me!’ he hollered as the Charles’s blade pricked his skin. ‘Jeanette! Think! Like you think I lied or that Vivien used me, perhaps Thierry and Voclain used her? Maybe she thought she was doing you a favor, after all! They have been patient, using us all like marionettes.’
Breadcrumbs was smoothing his huge bush. ‘I say we hang the bastard and let God find out the truth. He surely has better torture methods.’
‘Jeanette?’ Cleft begged. ‘I have not hurt you.’ His eyes rounded as Henriette came forward with Jacques. She stopped near us, eyeing Cleft. ‘Madame. Please. I…’
‘Can you be sure, Jeanette?’ she asked tiredly, ignoring Cleft.
‘No,’ I told her bluntly.
‘Skins is dead,’ Marcel growled. ‘Humps was hung after terrible torture. Colonel was shot in the fucking back. Charles has a hole in his side and is alive due to devil’s own luck. Laroche was shot, as he stood next to the colonel. God knows if they tried to shoot at us, the sergeants, but it was a battle and many balls flew around us. But It does not matter if we cannot be sure. He has to go to hell and then we take care of the bastards, and let there be both injustice and justice.’
‘Major Boulton surely would have to decide this,’ Cleft blurted as he heard Marcel’s words, but Charles laughed, pushed the bayonet expertly deeper, staying just under the skin and Cleft went quiet, waiting, trembling.
‘Marcel,’ I said calmly. ‘We can make a compromise.’ Cleft’s eyes light up in hope. I honestly did not know how it was, Marie, but I was beyond caring. ‘We can spare him if he is a fool and even Vivien if she was used.’
Laroche snorted. ‘Because she has skirts? No. She should die, and the only difference is that she will be a prettier corpse. They have gone too far.’
‘Cleft here can spare her if he cares for her.’
‘How?’ he asked, miserable.
I grabbed him by his jacket. ‘You will tell Vivien you are going, ask her for coin, and beg her to go away with you. You will tell her you are in love with her, that you can offer her life, that you have an inheritance waiting in Paris.’ I looked at him harshly as he collapsed. ‘Tell her you were asked to testify against Thierry, that you did not, but will run to avoid all this shit and a river of piss coming towards you. Tell her to meet you at the shed I was taken to, at midnight, by the road. You know this place?’
‘Yes,’ he said with a small voice.
‘And what will this accomplish?’ Marcel asked.
Henriette shrugged. ‘If Vivien is not guilty, she will be there. Then, perhaps, Cleft was not guilty either. If she is, Thierry will come with Fox, perhaps Voclain, to silence him. They will tell us the truth by their actions.’
‘And if I was not guilty at all?’ Cleft said, angry now that he had been promised his life back. ‘Who will apologize to me?’
Charles grinned at him. ‘You were just unlucky then, Cleft, but I doubt few trusts you, anyway. You’ve spent time with them out of your free will, and for that, we have a hard time accepting you and even harder apologizing.’
Breadcrumbs grunted. ‘Syphilis?’ The dutiful sergeant smiled as he had just managed to get the noose up and swinging. ‘Leave it there. We might have a use for it later.’
‘I ripped my jacket for this!’ Syphilis yelled, bitterly disappointed at the waste of his fine talent.
I grabbed Cleft by the jacket. ‘I had no feelings for you other than budding friendship. You imagined the rest and told people mean, nasty things about me. Things that might or might not have been true, but doing so, you made your
self my enemy. You are a bitter, self-centered sorry man who could not be happy for me, only unhappy for your losses. So, I did manipulate you. I burn in shame for it. But you will find, Cleft, that I will not be the only woman to manipulate you, and you had better find ways to cope with life. The love I feel for Henri, for that, I live and breathe, and I don’t care if he is an officer. What you caused, if you are guilty, is death of men we loved and possibly a man I love deeply. If so, you will die. Run? We will find you. We will see this very night if the noose is needed!’
Syphilis crumbled. ‘Good rope. Should not be wasted, that one.’
‘If they lie over me? If they…’ Cleft hissed.
I interrupted him. ‘Then we come back here, and hang you. But you have a chance. And as for Boulton? He knows about this, so do not go and cry to him. He provided the rope.’
He said nothing, as he gazed at me, but we all left the place alive, and for him, it was a miracle indeed.
Later that night, Cleft was leaning on the doors of the familiar shed Didier had brought me in and we were waiting inside, Marcel, Laroche, and I, for Vivien had said yes to Cleft. Birds were singing forlornly outside, a scratching of small rodents in the old, filthy hay was evident. It was near midnight, when we saw Cleft’s head jerk to the side. His mouth fell open, I saw, and distinctive look of immense displeasure and deep disappointment was playing on his face. He opened the door, stumbled in. Men were coming, one lanky, and one squat.
‘Cleft! My friend!’ yelled out Thierry as Cleft turned to look at them. ‘My wife tells me you wish to have her. You, a monastic bastard would take her away from me? You would not know what to do with a woman like that. What you have done has been boring to her. Oh, I know, for she lured you in with open legs, and she used to be a whore, you see, and performs such services with uncanny skill, and fools fall in and never come out. But she is my woman, and I take exception at this, ass.’
Poxy Fox was stalking after Thierry, smirking, mocking Cleft. ‘And she said they want you to testify against us? What have you been telling them? We have told you, a sad puppet nothing, but there must be a reason they did not hang you.’ The gaunt man’s mocking voice echoed darkly from the night as they approached.
So, Cleft had been a fool, nothing more.
‘You did shoot the colonel!’ Cleft said as he backed up. ‘I know this is true.’
‘Thierry shot him, yes,’ Fox said. ‘And I shot at Laroche and tried to kill Marcel, but the demons guarded them. Now, I will shoot you, in the balls, unless you tell us what is what. What did you tell them?’
They stepped in. Thierry had an axe, Fox a musket. Next to me, in the dark, Laroche and Marcel raised their weapons, I raised my pistol. Outside, Breadcrumbs and Syphilis would be getting ready. Fox sensed something, his eyes glancing around, for he was truly a sibilant creature of the night, but it was too late for him. ‘Kill the fuckers,’ I said and our weapons flared.
Fox flew on his back to lie on the dirty hay, dead as a stone, slain immediately. Thierry screamed as a heavy musket ball shattered his arm, and he bled from a wound in his abdomen as he went to his knees, and then fell on to his side.
Marcel grunted. ‘I can do this, Jeanette. You do not need to suffer for it. I…’
I shook my head and walked to Thierry, and pulled Henri’s sword our, something Boulton had contributed to this night. It was heavy, and Robert’s lessons with a mockery of the real thing came to my mind. Here lay men who had tried to kill me. Voclain was not here, true, but I felt a changed woman as I gazed at the dead and the dying. I feared, still, for it was natural to fear ungodly deeds, but I was grown up, able to do what must be done, no matter if the deeds were evil. In that way, I was like mother had been. Like her, I’d give away the last shreds of my innocence for a higher cause and I understood her choices better now. Hers had been a different kind of battle, becoming a whore for us, and I would become a killer. I had shot Adam, yes, but Thierry was helpless. I thought of mother, her bravery was my bravery, as I put the blade inside Thierry’s bushy beard, and pushed it down. His eyes popped up in his head as he clawed and wounded his one good hand on the wickedly sharp blade and I pushed until the blade scraped bone, cut arteries and he died there, pumping his blood on my feet. I felt terror, bile in my throat, and unfathomable horror, but it was done. I had forsaken God and would endure guilt, but I would not be a victim any longer.
I took the blade out. Marcel was eyeing me carefully. ‘What are you going to do next, girl?’
‘Take a bath and a long trip,’ I said coldly and left.
That morning, I descended on a swift stream, gasping as the cold water tried to kill me with its icy fingers. I decided not to care, and so I scrubbed and cleaned and washed my hair clean of grime and blood, shivering uncontrollably. I felt relieved and happy, for some reason, and did not even mind the insistent musketry that was going on somewhere near. I noticed a fat man sitting on a mossy stone near my crumpled clothes, and managed to curb the scream and the instinct to grab a loaded gun I had left at hand’s reach.
Laroche was smiling at me lecherously. ‘You have some dirt under the left breast. On the nipple too. Wash your ears.’ His eyes hardened as he saw a small bite mark by Voclain on my breast, but he said nothing of it. I would have my payment later for that.
I resisted the impulse to tell him to go away. Instead, I did wash the spots he indicated and decided I wanted to call his bluff, and I got up, shook the worst of the droplets away, and saw him gulping at the glorious sight it must have been. His face twitched and he was no longer smiling. ‘You indicated you like men, did you?’ I asked him. ‘You liar.’
He sighed. ‘No. I am married. Twice, in fact. I don’t know why I lie so much, but there it is. I do. Also, on this particular lie, perhaps I’ve seen pretty girls don’t mind being relaxed with men who are not a threat. Sometimes very relaxed. But I suppose I could be one, a threat after all and have you as my third wife if you were not as dear as a sister to me.’
I laughed as he grinned uncertainly. I poked him. ‘One day, you will hang and all your wives and friends alike will celebrate. You are a snake, my friend. But like a brother I love as well. Cleft? How is he?’ I asked him, as I sat down next to him, leaning back brazenly.
‘Jesus, Jeanette,’ he said with a tremble in his voice. ‘You are giving me a very uncomfortable feeling, and if you did this to Cleft, I can hardly blame him from going crazy, if he indeed did. Perhaps the poor sod was really only a fool for the bastards.’
I arched my neck and stared at him, enjoying his discomfort. ‘Perhaps he was.’
He was gathering himself slowly and managed to speak with a normal tone as he gazed at me. ‘Cleft? He is isolated. He eats, drinks, and the boys know Vivien fooled him, perhaps and he carries those scars. You know if he is truly as intelligent as he is, perhaps he knew he was being duped, and tried to have his revenge on you, by accepting their simple traps. If they succeeded, he might have been happy enough, even without either of you women. He is a proud man, and you did hurt him, and I think, it was him who turned his own father in as well, you know, for praying for the king even after taking the state priesthood. Who knows? He has devils dancing inside him, and he hates to be crossed.’
‘We all have them,’ I told him and started to pull on my clothing, as I thought about Cleft and his father, and how Laroche could very well be right. It did not matter.
‘What of Vivien?’ he asked me, careful to keep his eyes on mine.
I shrugged and took a deep breath. ‘She helped deliver Jacques. She did not have to do that. God knows what she thinks and have endured.’
‘You are soft,’ he scoffed.
‘Sometimes,’ I answered, getting cold.
‘Where are you traveling?’ he asked with a bored voice, one that showed he knew the answer.
‘I have to go to Paris.’
He was nodding to himself. ‘Not to Lyons to find your siblings? After all, Voclain is now being closely watched and his me
n are rotting cadavers. None goes near him. But you go to Paris to finish this?’
‘To finish this, yes. That way, I can maybe keep my siblings after I find them.’
He slapped a bag in front of him. I was pulling on a shirt, but he stopped me with a grunt. ‘Here, a fanciful dress and silken coat. Good quality, I dare say. A hat, a tad crumbled and God knows if it is in the latest style. I stole these from some dreadful hussy at the headquarters, who was leaving her baggage where it can get lost quickly. And here, two papers, indicating we will go on a leave of absence from the company. Boulton signed them, he is too busy to read what he signs, you see.’
‘So, you are coming with me?’ I asked him, while admiring the clothing. I shrieked as a girl would as I turned the dress around, my mouth open. ‘It’s so beautiful. So very, very beautiful. I’ve never had it’s like. Not sure how to put it on.’
He looked at me in disgust. ‘My God. What happened to you? It’s just a dress. Here, let me help. I’ve undressed them often enough.’
He helped me dress and I giggled as I admired myself, feeling uncomfortable and yet, strangely feminine. Laroche pulled me down and sat me on a boulder as he produced a comb and silken strings and started to make my hair. ‘How,’ I asked him impishly as his deft, fat fingers braided my hair into a beautiful bun, ‘do you know how to do this?’
He snorted in embarrassment. ‘I had six sisters. And one word to the boys and I will spank you. As for coming with you? Yes. I’m a friend, you are a fellow soldier, despite the present attire, but thanks to that, better looking one than most of the company, and now, better smelling one than any of them. You are daft enough to get killed if I do not come and hold your fucking hand.’
I slapped a letter on his lap; the one Didier had taken from Voclain. ‘But I will go to this house alone. Just the fine sword, and me,’ I told him. ‘Thank you for the fabulous clothes.’ I leaned over and kissed his fat lips gratefully and he cursed me for a tart.
I was a tart in mood for blood, Marie. I thought I would conquer for I was no longer afraid, but there would be disappointments, as this is how life functions. No matter what you plan, things go askew and even a woman who has found her courage can still break her heart.
Reign of Fear: Story of French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars (Cantiniére Tales) Page 38