Reign of Fear: Story of French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars (Cantiniére Tales) (11 page)

I spat as I remembered Colbert and his cake as he entered our room, a sight that had haunted me, for we had been hungry. ‘Tell them she would have us eat cake when the bread runs out.’

His eyes grew large; I could see him sweat as he scribbled. That sentence would be famous; though none knew I was the author and Camille the writer. He smiled as he eyed me appreciatively, but then he became deadly serious. ‘He is arranging to have you three transported out of here.’

‘Not mother?’ I asked
, confused.

‘No, I told you; she is sought after by the police, and he enjoys her
pleasant company. She is a strong woman, and witty. She has few rights, your mother, if the police catch her. She will die, perhaps, for Colbert is a corpse with many powerful patrons.’

‘I was not her fault!’

He laughed. ‘They only have a dank cell to fill, dear, before the execution. They do not care who fills it, even if you shot Adam. It was Adam, yes?’

‘It was,’ I said, and grabbed Julie, who was eating a stone. While digging it out, I gave him an evil eye. ‘In the declaration of this and that, in your wall…’ I started, and he blushed.

‘This and that indeed! You can read?’

I nodded.

He took a scholarly tone and pose. ‘That paper, love, is a thing to guide this nation, perhaps other nations! The only thing the foolish fop of Lafayette and the rest are doing even moderately right! First step for a constitution!’ he insisted, getting up and avoiding Jean, who was single mindedly tottering towards him. ‘Rousseau said…’

I scowled and interrupted him. ‘In that jargon of text, the gist of the matter is that every citizen are equal, all have
equal rights, should have them, at least.’

‘Indeed!’ he said, smiling
nervously, keeping Jean away with one hand. Jean did not like that, and tried to get around, scowling and complaining in gibberish. Camille looked at me, pleadingly, but I did not budge as Julie was putting up a fight.

‘And does that not mean women should have these rights?’ I asked. He recoiled, and Jean managed to grab his culottes and dark jacket, smothering them with spittle. He groaned, but turned an eye towards me, holding his hands up, as if Jean was a rabid dog.

‘Citizens, not women, Jeanette,’ he said, and raised his hands as I was about to launch into an angry retort. ‘But I know what you are saying, I do. There are many women, many in our meetings, who ask the same. There is one from Il de la Cite, Pauline, Léon? Some others, Olympe de Gouges, forever talking about these things. They will have much to say, yet. So perhaps, dear, you will get to decide on your life, one day!’ he told me, handing Jean to me gingerly as Julie was free of the pebble. ‘And yes, women should not be toys, if that were what you meant. Not for Danton or for me, or the police. Or to men like your uncle and great uncle were.’

I nodded vigorously.
‘Not for anyone. So why is she staying? We could hide in Lyons, just as well as we can hide here. In fact, here we might be arrested alongside your rebellious lot. If you believe in these rights of people, then you should not keep her here, where it is at least as dangerous as in Lyons. I don’t want to go without her, and I imagine she would not be parted from us.’ I was upset and kicked a stone so vigorously if flew away beyond the colonnades, rattling along the stone.

He seemed to understand my mood, sighed, and gave me a push. ‘You are right. We are not holding her only to keep her safe. Georges needs her and likes her, I know. That is one reason.
In fact, she wrote to Georges yesterday, before he came in today to seduce her, the bastard.’

‘
She wrote him, then? Well, I can nearly accept he needs her company, nearly,’ I said, frowning. ‘And the others?’

He struggled with himself, but gave up and waved his hand, as if to dispel a secret from between us. ‘We need something, Jeanette. She can provide it, perhaps. In addition, she had a reason of her own to stay, though she does not say what it is
, she only hinted at it in the letter. She only tells us she has to be here. You must ask her. You will go,’ he said, trying to change the topic, ‘to Lyons. This evening. I will miss you. We need “citizens” like you, lovely one. And your mother.’ He glanced up to our window, scowling.

I sulked, but shrugged, giving up
too easily. ‘Just remember,’ I told him, ‘that citizens have rights. Do not mistreat mother.’

He looked thoughtful, but nodded in
full agreement. ‘I will keep an eye on her. She is unique, brave, and beautiful. I will never hurt her.’ He cleared his throat.

‘I will ask her of her reason of staying, but can you not tell me what you need, other than her company. Why can’t you?’ I asked him.

‘Your father is in Bastille?’ he asked back, carefully.

‘Yes,’ I said, nonplussed by his apparently random and sudden change of topic. ‘Though I do not know much about it.’

He smiled happily. ‘About Bastille? You want to know its dark history? I read much of it in Collegé Louis-le-Grand, and with Maximillien, I wrote an essay on it. It was built in the medieval times…’

‘No,’ I said, fluttering my hands at him. ‘I do not need its
bleeding history. I don’t know exact reasons why he is there. Theft? Forgery? Why did you ask about my father?’

He looked embarrassed. ‘Oh! Well, today we use Bastille as a symbol of hate, the king’s prison.’ He leaned closer to me, and Julie shrieked as he imitated a menacing scowl. ‘Did you know that there are king’s
unhappy enemies locked up in those cold, desolate rooms? There they die, of disease, hunger and cold snot.’

‘Like the ordinary man in the streets, no?’ I asked, and his coun
tenance broke for just a second, and he took time to scribble that one up. It made me swell with pride.

While writing, his tongue out of his mouth, he continued, concentrating on
both, just barely managing it. ‘No. This is worse. Torture, sadistic animals tearing man and woman limb by limb, girl.’ I shivered, and he was happy with that, though I had faked the shiver, and he knew it. He tousled my hair, appreciating my act. ‘No, I think there are just some lunatics and minor crooks locked in there, to be honest. Few fat, invalided soldiers guard it, and it is anything but the horrible place we all paint it.’

‘And why did you wish to…’ I started patiently, and he gave up.

He sighed, put his hand on his head, and without looking at me, told me what their agenda was all about. ‘Your father. He is in there, right? He might know where Colbert hid his money. You do not, apparently, do you? And neither does your mother.’

I stood there, anger playing on my face. ‘
I don’t. I know there is a cache, and he had a whorehouse. You didn’t find it? You just want Colbert’s money?’

He mimicked my voice insipidly.
‘Just his money. Money is all. We got his books, draperies, many things we can sell, and others we cannot. We dug up the floors in the cellar, tapped the walls, tore out suspicious bulges and did the same with the nasty whorehouse. Your damnable Colbert was no fool with the coin, and kept it near, but how near? Perhaps he owned another house nearby? It is a small fortune we scraped from his property, but small fortunes, Jeanette, disappear when you try to foment changes to nations. His fortune was vast, we know this, and we cannot find it. He has hidden it, but it matters not. Not sure how we would get your father out of Bastille, anyway. We try to bribe someone, perhaps, but we will see.’

‘Surely forts can be taken,’ I said, thinking about t
he stories Gilbert had read to us, full of such tales of terrible sieges. ‘Are there soldiers there?’

‘I told you. Some invalids. It has few prisoners and is mainly a store of gunpowder, nothing more,’ he shrugged
, despondent. I pouted, Jean tried to escape, and while I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, I got an idea.

‘Do you think this will come to shots, one day? This whole mess?’ I asked him
, hopeful it might.

‘Shots? Hope not! We have no weapons and powder!’ he grinned, and then his face went still.

‘Indeed. But Bastille, guarded by invalids has plenty, no? And it is the king’s horrible dungeon, and detested, hated by any free, common man?’ I asked sibilantly.

He nodded
. ‘You are not a child, my child, but a devious imp, that is what you are,’ he muttered, hesitated and started to scribble, as he walked briskly off.

I went home,
happy to be a devious imp and the twins ran to mother. She was sitting happily, and smiled at us, giving the little ones a hug. ‘Mother,’ I said, critically, and she waved her hand.

She smiled. ‘He gives us protection. He is a scoundrel, Jeanette, but I
accept his protection, for now. Yesterday, I spoke with him as his guest, today, we are more, and it’s not all evil, no. He is married, but otherwise, he is a perfect gentleman. I will be most careful child. Do not judge me.’

‘You mean us to leave? Not you, but the rest of the family?’ I asked her
, even more critical, putting emphasis on the word “family.”

She took the hint and looked a bit angry, yet determined. ‘Yes. You will leave Paris. I will not discuss it, Jeanette,
and I have gone through hell- I showed how much I love my family, so trust me on this decision as well,’ she said and left to fix us dinner before I could say anything more. I saw tears in her eyes.

In the evening, mother took us to the
overgrown gate of the convent, and there waited a covered carriage. She went inside the rickety thing, where a fat peasant woman was fussing, a woman who took the twins. Mother was crying bitterly, speaking soft words, telling them they will be well loved by her sister, her brother and his family, and that they shall meet again. In the background, I could hear the crowd roar at Danton’s words at a meeting, and I shivered. Eventually, she came out of the carriage, smiled at me, and held out her hand. I took it and she pulled at me.

‘Come,’ she said, as I resisted.

‘Is this about Colbert’s money they did not find? You will help them, and help them find father who might know?’

She let go of my hand, astonished. ‘Yes. Georges gave us some money for the items he liberated from Colbert’s
opulent apartment. He kept most, but it was not nearly as much as he hoped. Colbert’s gold and silver could not be found, and I know he had plenty of it. Georges freely admitted he saw an opportunity, he, and Camille are ever at need of coin. However, he was generous enough. The twins and you will live well. I will stay, and help him. You will take care of them, until France is different. I now owe him, and trust me, Jeanette, I rather have you three away from here, where blood will flow.’

I looked at the
confused twins, and took a step towards the carriage, but I stopped before reaching it. ‘They said you had your own reason too. You asked to stay here. Therefore, I will stay to help you. I won’t get in the way.’

‘No, it is dangerous, Jeanette. You can die here. I will not allow it,’ she told me, scowling.

‘I said that I will stay. I have a stake in this too. Twins will be loved and taken care of. I am tired of ponderous adults and especially arrogant men pushing us around, and want to see if…’ She grabbed me and guided me towards the carriage. I tore free savagely. ‘I will stay, mother. You owe me. I shot the man who raped you.’

‘I put myself in such a position, Jeanette,’ she said angrily, ‘because of you, the children. Therefore, I do not owe you anything. I don’t wish to be
horribly reminded of what has passed and every time I see you. I am. I am reminded of what they did to me.’ I cried, and she finally raised my chin up. ‘I will help Georges with the money and perhaps, if he is honest, try to give him a chance at my heart. But I am not happy, not whole. I have to make myself full again. What could I do to forget my shame, other than shoot your shit faced father, Jeanette, tell me?’

I understood her. She wanted to stay to kill Guillemin, to remove the debts between them. Georges
might get his money; she would get her vengeance and bitter answers, perhaps. ‘I can help you,’ I told her, full of hope. ‘I have experience in shooting men in our family. Your reasons for staying are no different from mine.’

She looked at me incr
edulously, and then she giggled hysterically, until she rubbed her face, tired. ‘He,’ she said, miserable to the core, ‘is your father, Marie. It is an ungodly act what I plan for, and I will burn in hell for it. I do not want to see you there, when I do find him. Besides, I will let Georges down, maybe. He will be angry. If Guillemin knows the secret whereabouts of Colbert’s vast collection of coin, he will not share it as he is meeting the devil in his new accommodations. If I give him to Georges, monsieur Danton might very well cut a deal with Guillemin, and forget he has feelings for me.’ She said it with a sad smile, and continued. ‘You are strong, dear. Nevertheless, I do not want you to suffer for the things I wish to do. Georges Danton will do great deeds, and maybe he will help me reach Guillemin. I stay, dear, to get close to him, and I need to be strong when I see him. I am not as strong as you are, dear. I cannot kill a man, I thought, but now perhaps I can, but I might fail, especially if you are there to stop me.’

I took her hand. ‘I am not strong, mother. I fear, every night I fear
, and I wish to be there as well.’ I sobbed in her gentle arms. ‘I will not stop you mother, and God? Church? Surely, they would not mind having him in hell? Father is God’s creation, and did he ever fail with him. If not, I will do without God, and go to hell myself. There will be justice. And what father did to us, demands justice.’ I said the words with a passion, yet I remembered him from when I was younger, he was gentler, and that I had loved him. What our family had suffered could not change that. I wanted to see him. I wanted to know if he was truly evil, or just astray.