‘Why did you arrest Gilbert?’ I asked. ‘You could have inherited him after he killed us.’
He laughed. ‘I did not want to end up like Georges. Betrayed by the bastard. Gilbert knew things about me and he held the contract.’
I smiled at him. ‘Women?’
‘Yes!’ he roared. ‘Women. I am a womanizing bastard, it is true. I have a dozen such creatures, give or take a few as weeks change. But some are indeed former nobles, you see, and some were and still are stiff royalists, who need money to survive. Distasteful, I know, but there you are. I am weak for them, and they trust me, for I am, or was a noble as well. And there was once an incident, where I saved a pregnant woman from la Concierge. Georges knew about this. And so did Gilbert.’
‘And you,’ I said sternly, ‘are married.’
‘She does not know, can you imagine it!’ he laughed and I joined him. Then we sobered and he leaned forward. ‘Henri is a soldier, that is all he cares about. I plucked Gilbert quickly after Henri sent me the letter, and I realized you could be used against him, if my men failed to find the contract. They did. So, I only had you. I wanted shit to counter his shit. I wanted that contract back. I hired that Voclain to keep Henri and you in check and I started to torture Gilbert for a more equal relationship. I put him in the Temple for a week.’
‘I take it you failed,’ I asked sweetly.
‘We reached an agreement,’ he told me carefully.
‘The house I was to be taken to, was yours?’ I asked. ‘One of the many places you entertain your mistresses and indulge in your many vices?`
‘Yes,’ he said calmly. ‘Gilbert could not afford such a house. I was going to give you to him, and we would burn the contract after he got you. He is a very smart boy, and one would argue it was a bad deal for him, for that contract is like a noose, but I saw he had demons he truly, utterly wanted to bury. How did you know I was the one to request for your presence from Voclain? I could not ask Henri, he is a romantic fool and would have sent you to Austria, I am sure.’
‘The letter you sent Voclain and the one to Henri had same, hurried handwriting,’ I explained to him.
‘Ah! Well, you are a Baxa after all. Must not underestimate book printers in the future!’ he told me.
‘Now I am a soldier,’ I told him carefully. ‘I have needs. One is safety from Gilbert.’
His eyes took a calculative, faraway look as he was nodding. ‘Indeed. But you see, if, as your letter so snidely explained, you hold the contract now, then how am I to overcome Gilbert who knows about my women. Some quite nasty rumors are out there, about my….’
‘I have this,’ I told him and pushed forward a pamphlet. ‘You are still stomping on former Jacobins, are you not?’
‘Sort of, though many are pardoned after helping us with the damned royalists.’ He took the pamphlet and read it. His eyebrows shot up as he chuckled. ‘A very fiery, Jacobin fiery pamphlet, one he never published, embracing Robspierre, even naming his speeches! It is full of the devil, and likely not something that would endorse a man to the current trends at power,’ Barras purred and slammed it down, tapping his forefingers to his lower lip, furiously. ‘He is not the most literary of men. I see he was smart enough to keep at extortion business and forget the politics. But it does have possibilities, for me. How did you get all these papers?’
I waved my hand. ‘His secretary had them,’ I told him carelessly.
‘His secretary?’ he asked, uncomprehending. ‘What do you mean? He gave them to you?’
‘No,’ I said, waving his follow up question away.
He went quiet, his eyes scanning the roof. ‘I cannot kill him.’
‘I can,’ I said carefully. ‘But later. What you can do is put him on a leash. This paper is heavier than your sexual adventures. He has forever threatened me by his position here in Paris. Now, I also have one.’
Barras shook his head. ’You are a woman! I cannot give you a position…’
I shook my head empathetically. ‘Nor do I wish for one. I am now your friend and I will guard the contract.’
‘I want it, Jeanette,’ he told me carefully as he stared at me, and I shook inside at his power, for he was a dangerous man.
‘I will guard it, I said, and wish to be at peace, left alone and let Gilbert be your thrall in Paris. I will not come back here and your secret is safe. As long as I and my family is safe.’
He snorted. ‘And you wish me to guard Gilbert. I am to guard him, while we both hold shit on the other and make sure he leaves you and your family be?’
‘Yes,’ I said savagely. ‘Unless you wish to swing. There are men who will love to read the contract aloud to the fine people of Paris. They will not be stopped if they see it, they will haunt you, run after you with a rope until they can hang it on your neck. You know the people in this city. And your fellow directories? Oh, likely some hate you.’
‘I…’ he started, but slumped. His eyes sought me out, weighing me carefully. ‘I do not think you are this tough, to be honest, Jeanette. I think I shall call your bluff. I know from Henri, that you seek your siblings. If they are under the blade, I think you will wither.’
‘No,’ I said savagely. ‘Wait.’
‘For what?’ he snorted.
‘Wait,’ I said and glanced at the watch. It was ten in the morning and the watch made a small, metallic chime. So we waited, he was thrumming his fingers nervously but I kept my hand up, for I knew a package was being delivered right as we waited. Barras was about to speak, when a shriek rent the palace. It could be heard through the long hallways and galleries, and it was a chilling scream, one of a man who has lost a loved one. The man screamed, and yelled desperately and cried. I savored it and smiled as I dedicated the screams to Marie-Louise, Robert, Humps and Skins. Barras gazed at me carefully.
I shrugged. ‘The Revenant had a weakness other than the contract. His friend and lover, the secretary, was that weakness, and I sent his head to Gilbert in a box. Do you still think I bluff or am weak? Do not go to war with me, monsieur Barras. Oh, I burned down my former home as well. The filthy place is gone.’
Barras was mouthing my words in a half disbelieving way. Getting up, sitting back down, he finally slumped. ‘Is this what all our soldiers are like these days? You sent him…’
‘He killed friends of mine, had them killed, and is my enemy,’ I stated, getting up. ‘I thank you for holding him in a leach from now on, and do not feed him if you please.’
‘A leach, girl, that is tenuous after this,’ he said critically, but then relaxed. ‘I admit hearing the Revenant scream like that has a particular appeal. Makes the ghost more alive, so to say. Very well. I will not sleep well, ever again, girl, but I agree to keep Gilbert off you. You keep the contract hidden, Jeanette, or it is my turn to do deeply disturbing deeds.’
‘Deal,’ I told him and we smiled. I did not like him, but at least one could reason with him.
He cleared his throat. ‘Is Henri well?’
‘No, the men you sent to fetch me took the opportunity to try to kill men they dislike and Henri was shot, but is he dead? I know not. Now, I go and find out.’ My voice was harsh and he slumped.
‘No,’ he said weakly. ‘I did not want that. I will…’
‘We have already paid back for it,’ I told him frankly. ‘They are no longer serving you nor Gilbert. Now, I go back and hope he is well.’ I blushed as I said that, and cursed myself.
Barras smiled at me. ‘You are truly different from what I imagined you to be. This is not the fine, delicate colt of a girl Henri wrote me about, the one he asked me to help him save. You are somewhat different from that description,’ he said drily. ‘Tell me, is he over his sister?’ I turned from him, and looked away, hoping he would tell me more. He smiled thinly and nodded. ‘I see. He is not. Henri is a horrid rascal, was a womanizing bastard like I am, a hopeless gambler, a fine swords master, and a noble with arrogance to match centuries of nobles in his family. I know, for I was one as w
ell, but he has a good heart, deep in there, buried behind guilt. He would never survive here, in Paris.’ He wiped his hand around the grand hall, and for a second, he looked like Georges had, when he lamented his choices. Finally, Barras adopted a steely look on his face. ‘His sister is dead, and he blames himself. That night she was taken from their house, she had asked him to stay, for there was much chaos in the neighborhood, sans culottes raging and burning. He had promised her he would stay with her, she trusted him. Then, after she went to bed, and fell blissfully asleep, he went to see his mistress, to drink and to gamble, thinking there would be no real threat. They came that night, looted and robbed noble’s houses, took the girls away. She was only twelve. He blames himself. He serves until she is found, I think, but she will never be found. She is gone, horribly gone, leaving our friend a husk of a man. He does not think himself worthy of love, a broken man he is. I know this, for I read men daily. If you see him, release him. Tell him I know where she is buried, even if I do not. They hurt her, that much I suspect, but tell him it was quick, that there is proof of it. That she fell, perhaps. An accident. Not a murder and a rape. I am sorry, but such things…’
I nodded and we both looked down, resenting the world and mankind. I understood Henri, finally. Henri did not think himself worthy, starting over a deed too selfish to contemplate. I walked to Barras, gave him a kiss on the cheek despite his schemes and crimes, and smiled. ‘Get out while you can. You can be happy someplace else. I know you won’t though, but I thank you.
He got up to open the door for me, and bowed as I went out. He stopped me at the door. ‘The general Bonaparte is coming to Italy soon. He commands the Army of the Interior now, but he will come, and I hope you make him proud. I might ask questions about him, one day. A favor, for a favor. You did burn part of a street block down, after all.’
I laughed with him. He was a politician, and spilled blood, extortion, droves of lies, and Gilbert tied us to each other now.
1840 – Cherbourg – The Guard’s Cock
There is just a bit more to tell you, Marie, as I will have to help close the tavern. I have sat here, writing to you for over a week, day and evening, and your cursed grandfather is saying I am overdoing it. He is also too curious for his own good, and wishes to read what I have written, but I will not do so. He can write his own story. He makes love to me, Marie, much more than usual, in hopes I fall asleep exhausted from his surprisingly vigorous efforts so he can sneak to peek at this, but the problem is that I can outlast him, and so his attempts fail though I will enjoy the sex.
We got back to Italy in November, Marie. The troops were in the same rotten place, suffering privation of unimaginable horror. Many of the forty thousand men had no proper gear, despite a brave ship, a blockade-runner that had delivered some twenty thousand pairs of shoes. Few had good coats; food was scarce, so all were hungry. It was raining hard at some days, snowing on others and the Austrians, in their internal dissent had put up a defensive work from Loano to Piedmont, covered by near hundred cannon and over fifty thousand men. We arrived on the 22nd of November, tired, exhausted actually. General Schérer’s best commander Andre Masséna, a ravishingly good looking man had had successes since the 15th, but the night we stopped our creaking wagon at the camp was the night before the general attack, and we saw and heard the general while he was exhorting the troops. ‘Your bayonets will show us the way, it is in them, where the victory lies!’ The men screamed themselves hoarse, and so did Laroche, for with the two divisions that were to attack the Austrian center, there also was the 4th Light Infantry Demi-Brigade, renewed by two new battalions taking the place of the former volunteer ones, but the 4th Chasseur Battalion was still there.
Henriette was screaming as she ran to us, Marcel was holding Jacques, both grinning like imps. She slapped me slightly, and cried in heart-rending relief and I did as well. Charles, Breadcrumbs and Syphilis came to see us, clapping my back, hugging me fiercely, disbelieving Laroche’s stories of mad Paris and the chopping of heads, which were all true, for once. I saw Cleft, but would need time to speak to him. He smiled at me wistfully, as he was cleaning his musket, and I smiled back. Vivien was there, married again, it seemed, though not to Cleft. She looked at me resentfully. Love is mad, and she had apparently loved Thierry, and she was someone to watch, one enemy to remember, but one who had once save mother, as well.
‘Henri?’ I asked, breathless.
‘Alive,’ Henriette said calmly, and I smiled happily, dizzy with desire to see him.
‘Did you get him?’ Henriette asked, tearing my thoughts from Henri to Gilbert.
I pulled out the watch and handed it over to her, and her eyes betrayed shock, then a question. I shook my head; unhappy about the answer I had to give her. ‘He is not dead, but I restrained him, I hope,’ I told her. ‘I hurt him. By God, he is hurt and much lower he was before, and he is happy to be alive. In addition, I have a clue to the siblings, one he does not know of.’
She shook her head as she regarded me, putting away the watch. ‘You do! We will go find them, if Gilbert is controlled as you said, and get them back. You have grown love. I am glad you are alive. How was Paris?’
‘Crazy. Our house, by the way, is not there anymore. It burned down, it seems.’
‘Good,’ she said resolutely, but then the army started to ready itself for the battle. It would go forward, and what was to follow, was Battle of Loano, not the skirmish of some brigades, but a full out battle where ten thousand brave men would die. It was first of many such battles, and Henriette and I went to work, offering much needed drink and scarce food to men who were fixing bayonets, emptying our tonnelets to tin mugs, serving men with comforting smiles, not five hundred yards from waiting Austrian masses and cannons. After an hour of this, Henriette clapped my back. ‘Are you going to hail him?’ She nodded at the man on a horse.
‘Boulton?’ I asked, as I gazed at the man, covered in a great habit.
‘No, not Boulton, but the man I nursed back to health,’ she said, grinning.
‘Henri?’ I breathed and went, cursing myself, for I had thought he was in bed, or hospital, but no, he was there on a horse, hale enough to be a soldier again. I stopped, ran to the wagon, grabbed the sword, and ran for him. He turned to look at me. It was raining and his cigar was smoking as he turned his horse, his eyes full of surprise, and his chin stubbled with short beard. I saw he was gaunt from exhaustion, but for a second, I knew he loved me, for no man’s face could shine like his did, when he spotted me running for him. Then, quickly, the face took a wooden demeanor, calmer, if welcoming. I cursed him, stole a horse from a lieutenant, climbed on it, and guided it next to him. I gazed at his eyes. ‘I know about your sister.’
He shook his head, worried. ‘A battle is about to start, Jeanette. I…’
‘It was your fault,’ I told him, and he jerked, shocked. ‘Yes. You made a mistake. You did not keep your promise. She died, fell down stairs while fleeing, and is buried in a fine grave outside Paris. Paul told me. You went gambling and womanizing and had fun. It hurts you like hot coals, burning and scorching your very soul. It will hurt you until you die. However, it also grew you up into a man a woman can love. Truly, utterly, love. And I do love you, you fucking idiot. I am glad you did not die with her.’
He was crying, I saw it, clutching his reins. It was raining, sparing him the humiliation as I guided the horse closer to his. My horse nipped at his horses rear, but then they calmed. I pulled him close and kissed him. He returned it, eating my lips hungrily. We parted, wet, and strangely sad and happy at the same time.
‘The men do not like this,’ he said morosely. ‘But I suppose I cannot deny I love you as well, a merchant’s daughter, for Christ’s sakes. My ancestors are all crying, I am sure, bracing to keep the gates of hell closed from me. I suppose I will tell them you are a noble woman, similar to me. Neither has no title but the creed and bravery are strong in us, the very things that made us noble to begin with. You would fit our ra
nks, love. I want you safe, though. Some place where I can be assured nothing happens.’
I shook my head. ‘No, this is my home. I own myself, and we either love like that, accepting there might not be tomorrow, or we fall apart. You cannot keep me safe, just like you could not guard your sister forever. Life is what it is. I might die tonight and so might you. Especially if you sit on a horse.’
He was nodding. ‘If you become pregnant?’
I laughed merrily. ‘Then I will reconsider, perhaps. I see this won’t be easy.’ I loved him, Marie. I saw a man who I wanted to grow old with. It might go sour, our love, things might change, but I would always have a stubborn seed of love growing inside me for him, and I could not explain it, nor could I ever. Later on, I desired many men, love, I did. I loved some, but few like Henri. Henri shook his head, took his sword as he turned his horse, got down, and went to work.
In two days time the battle was over and the Austrians routed, and Laroche came to me. I was tired and in no mood for talk, for we had not slept for two days and were covered in crusted blood from the wounded. He was dead tired as well, and nodded towards the woods with a languid motion. ‘Colonel told me to fetch you. The demi-brigade attacked that hill. Many dead there. Be careful.’ I glanced up the hill where smoke rose. Many enemies had fortified and garrisoned it, but now it was almost ours. Some Austrians lingered up the hill still, but most were pulling out. I reluctantly agreed to go to Henri, took my pistols, and found Henri on his horse, looking down at a heap of bodies. There, one was moving. I got close and saw Voclain there.
A sword had wounded him on his belly, and he was not dead, unlike the men around him. His eyes sought mine and he was desperate enough to plead. ‘He took me here, to murder me. I was not going to kill you, girl! I was to let you live! Do not sully your hands in blood, I beg!’
‘What do you wish to do?’ Henri asked, bored.
‘All good things come in threes,’ I told him as I tried to take Henri’s sword. ‘Manuel Voclain, my hands are already soaked.’
Reign of Fear: Story of French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars (Cantiniére Tales) Page 41