Reign of Fear: Story of French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars (Cantiniére Tales) (34 page)

I was startled by his question, and a bit shaken by his declaration that it was not the nobles who suffered most for the revolution, but I nodded. ‘Yes, she saved my life, though if she meant to do so, I do not know.’

‘She would have, in any case. You see, she was a noblewoman, and while she could party like a harlot all night, have indecent and barely veiled affairs, and God knows it is hard to condemn her for that for her husband was an imbecile; she would also act according to her creed. She would stick to her sovereign and noble rights, for to lose them, there would be a world filled with merchants and peasants. She would feel superior to you, but she would have spared your life for it is a noble thing to do, and part of the justice she could serve. Nobility, Jeanette, is a reward for the bravest in the society, though granted, not all are brave or just, but as a rule, we will remain nobles for that quality. God, she was braver than the king, though I hear the king died well as he should.’

I thought he was right
, for Henri was very brave, braver than most men I had met and likely, due to that fact, the noblest man I had ever seen. ‘She was friendly and kind to me, yes, though I felt like a worm in her presence. However, I don’t think it is right that you class nobles over merchants, for theirs is of a different kind of bravery, having to face bankruptcy with nobody to bail them free, should they fail. One must be brave to face starvation and ignominy. I dare say the merchants feed your kind, no? In addition, I know nobles kill people with very few reasons, and get away with it. I…’

Henri grinned foolishly, quaffing. ‘Indeed? So you were a merchant? And if you noticed, pretty one, today I was indeed fed by you, so perhaps you are right!’

I blushed, but continued. ‘Book print, that was the family business, yes. Everyone knows that the nobles have stamped over the commoners for centuries. It is not right; that much I agree with the revolution.’

He poured some more wine and gazed at me, languid in his seat, still not over his brief mirth. ‘You have seen the revolution. When did you see nobles behaving so? Mutilating, killing, raping people they have never met, like a pack of ravening hounds tearing at the fallen mantle of power and the people in the way of it?’

I nodded. ‘Is it thus you feel for me?’

‘Pardon?’ he said, eyeing the wine carefully.

‘Towards mother and me. You saved us, because it was a noble thing to do?’

‘Yes, and to snub the bastards.’

‘Even if you lose your head? You would do this to anyone under their sword? If I were a fat grandmother smelling of feces, you would have thrown yourself between me and Chambon, full of fire?’

‘Yes!’

‘Liar,’ I mumbled.

He sighed. ‘Perhaps I am. But I have to make a confession, for I know a man in the politics, who is powerful,
also, a former noble. Paul Barras. My friend fought in India and is now a commissioner of the army. In Genoa, he is, right now, I think and he has power and influence, the bastard, more than I know, likely.’

‘You,’ I laughed merrily, ‘snub the politicians, and then rely on one to keep you alive?
This the man you sent the letter you mentioned?’

‘I am a soldier, Jeanette. I use the advantages I have, and enjoy them profusely, for surprise is the first and only law of war,’ he said, smiling.
‘Yes, I sent him a letter, though he has not deigned to answer. Perhaps our friendship is getting too heavy for his career?’

I cleared my throat.
‘You did not save us because you like me?’ That question was the bravest thing I had done, I felt, even above the fight with the uhlans and facing Gilbert.

He laughed, nervously, apparently wrestling with himself. Then he spoke slowly. ‘Your mother might be outside with a pistol.’

‘Do you like the older and fatter girls better?’ I pressed him.

‘No,’ he said
softly. ‘I might have lied there, as well, but as I said, your mother…’

‘She is a terrible shot,’ I said, leaning forward, aware that
my shirt was loose and my bosom was nearly bared as I did so. Henri enjoyed the view, it was clear, and after looking at the sight for a moment, he turned his face away, playing the stoic noble, but there was a look on his face, one of desire, and one I shared. I straightened myself and got up, pushing my promises to God far away, for a fool and a child had given them. I shuffled around the table and came to stand next to him, not entirely sure what to do, but I braved all and ran my fingers through his hair, feeling a complete amateur, afraid of tangles and of hurting him, but he let me experiment. I felt a slight tremor in him as I put my finger on his neck, running it up and down. His grey eyes turned to regard me ferally, his desire evident and I leaned down to kiss his neck, and then his chin and he, gloriously, pulled me on his lap.

He took over the kiss, his lips playing with mine, forcing them
resolutely and passionately apart, with such strength I involuntarily whimpered. He moved to kiss my throat, and his hand opened my shirt as his face kissed the flesh there, finally finding a nipple, which he gently caressed with skill that bespoke of experience. I put my hands on his shoulders, and felt him hardening under me. His kisses found places of pleasure I did not know about and I moaned silently in ecstasy, enjoying his exploration. Florian? God, Marie. It had been nice, perhaps, but this was love and true lust, all mixed together in glorious, patient moments of joy I never wanted to end.

I let him take off my shirt and I bared my bosom
to him fully. His lips ate my breasts, licked them, kissed them above and below and his hands stroked my belly vigorously, as if trying to mold me. I kissed his neck and throat, enjoying his taste of sweat and man, and took his shirt down around his hips, massaging his shoulder muscles. Then I put my hand on his thigh, feeling his hardened manhood under me and I reached down, stroked it, and it moved, as if searching for me. He got up, nearly dropping me on the ground. He pushed the plates off the table and lifted me there. I lay back, as he pulled my skirt down, his eyes glistening with lust as he saw me bared and soon pursed before his eyes as I lifted my rear so he could pull the skirt away entirely. He put his hand on my inner thigh, slid it down, separating my legs and what followed, was fire.

His hands were
touching me expertly, stroking and kneading until I shuddered, his eyes enjoying my pleasure, but not giving me mercy. I came, Marie, so forcefully the table quivered, and he was patient, letting me finish. I put my hand on my face, breathing hard and laughed happily. In the meantime, he kissed my thighs, my belly, controlling my movements as he moved lower, and it did not take long for me to be ready again. Lovemaking, Marie, with a patient man, is the best treat in the world. Finally, he shed his pants, I saw his demanding erect cock and with my legs around him, I pulled him close, and he entered me. He was superb, thrusting with purpose, finding what pleased me, what pleased him, and we melted into a lustful, functional rhythm. I climaxed, I think, two times, and then, after ages of pleasure, he shuddered, fell over me, his face full of joy, and he came, gloriously, his juices running down my buttocks. I held on to his face and kissed him gently while he was panting close to me. We were very happy then. I loved him, I thought.

And so, I said it. ‘I love you, captain.’

At that is when he stopped being happy, for he shut his eyes, and lying there silently on top of me, he sighed, not about to return the sentiment. He gently got out of me and up and pulled me after him. I was blushing, trembling and could not understand, and tried to touch him, but he grabbed my hands, holding them firmly. He opened his eyes and there was a haunted look there. ‘I cannot, Madame say those words.’

‘We just made love. I am well old enough…’

‘Ah, but your age does not matter. And Jeanette, there is a difference between love and lust and this was not love.’

I pulled clothes over my chest and his eyes had an amused look at the reaction, as if it was expected and something he had seen before. ‘What, pray tell me, would you have me say? I…’ I started, but he shrugged, pulled out a cigar from the side of his bed. He seemed to have a ready stock of them everywhere.

‘I’m afraid I was not very noble,’ he said languidly. ‘You are intelligent and brave beyond any girl I have seen before, but you are not astute in this matters, and we are different.’ His eyes avoided me as he lifted his pants and started to pull them on.

Then I understood

‘You think I am not good enough for you.’ I felt cold, merciless claws rake my soul as I dreaded his answer.

He took a deep breath. ‘To be honest, no,’ he said. ‘I am a nobleman, you are not of the class, and no revolution will change these significant differences. Fear not, for I didn’t use you like a whore, but neither can I marry you. It was mutual satisfaction in
a very unsatisfactory world, a sprinkling of happiness amidst dark times. We had sex, and note, I did not take pleasure solely for myself, but also gave it, and it was a bargain for both, I think. I have the confidence to claim so. You are a brave girl, my friend, and I hold you in high esteem, even after this.’

It took me awhile as I dressed awkwardly, trying to cover myself as best I could from his probing, amused eyes, but finally, I managed it with some dignity and turned towards him. He nodded, mysteriously nonchalant, waiting.

‘You too, citizen captain are very brave,’ I told him, cursing the tears that came. He looked faintly amused by them, and I was shocked how very hurt I felt. ‘And we thank you for that bravery and the shifty home you have provided us, we honestly do. I hope you enjoyed the chicken and the woman, and let us not speak more of it.’

He put his legs on the table. ‘Thank you, I did enjoy both. Do not be upset. I am a noble, for it is not something the Republic can strip from a man, as I told you, and I respect you, wish you to be a friend, but I think it is best you work with the canteen now. This would be, it seems, a bit awkward, for despite your words, I have a hunch you do not take this as I did, as a trivial dalliance.’

I nodded, grateful to be spared his company in the future. ‘And the protection you have afforded us? Is that now spent?’

‘As I told you, I am like the queen in that regard and I keep my word and guard you and your mother, though perhaps you are right to think I might not have gone through all this for a grandmother. But I am not in love with a silly girl who confuses sex for affection.’ His eyes looked hard as coals, and then I slapped him so hard his cigar flew to the corner.

I turned and collected myself, smoothed my clothes, rushed out of the tent and heard him laugh after me hollowly and when I got to mother, I smiled at her, told her I was fine, just drunk and tired, and went to bed. Cleft was there, waiting for me, about to say something meaningful, apparently having waited for me, but I shook my head in anger and lay down. I felt him staring for a while, angry and disappointed and he knew something had happened. And he was hurt.

I cried myself to sleep in shame, for I was a fool, and I still loved the fucking captain, Marie. God, I had been happy, but then, suddenly, so unhappy. It made no sense.

CHAPTER 14

Next morning, the company began marching. It took the point of the whole tired battalion that was slowly wounding its cumbersome way after us through the silent hills, seas of shrubs, pleasant light woods full of birdsong and delightful streams. The Col di Cadibona was a pass in the mountainous and hilly grounds north of the recently subdued city of Savona, which was the key to the route between Nice and Genoa, all crucial to France. The land was fertile enough, though not enough so to feed both the roving armies and the suffering locals. By now, our wary men were all aware there was hostile cavalry out here, and nothing frightens light infantry more than aggressive enemy cavalry. There had been no signs of the French hussars, who were probing along somewhere in the area. Marcel kept his cursing men running out ahead as per Henri’s instructions, and our wagons trundled along. There were some good roads running towards north, ones that could easily carry military along with heavier cannon across the steep slopes. Vivien’s wagon was following us as she was staring at us woodenly, her cat-like eyes smoldering for it was admittedly unfair towards her that we were there. Henriette scowled at her as we travelled cumbersomely under a canopy of low branches, apparently not feeling any sympathy for her. I wondered at that and she noticed, took a ragged breath, and made my day worse. ‘She has been singing this unfortunate song.’

‘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 to
uch 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 nea
r 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…’

‘Shs
h, 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.’