by K C Norrie
"It is the tea or the syrup or a combination of the two, causing the bodies to rise. You say the syrup mends broken bones and cures fevers? Perhaps it creates a change to the body's natural immune system. The same change that repels illness and mends wounds may continue on after death, re-animating the brain to survive at all costs. What would be the minimum needed to survive? Sharp teeth to kill and eat, a way to move, to see. Some say the hair and nails continue to grow after death. It would be a similar, though a much more aggressive type of effect. Of course, we would like to investigate this plant; it seems to be the true miracle in these occurrences, but I am afraid it may take years until we are able to send out a group. In the meantime, here is what you must do."
Father Pierre was sent away with two heavy boxes he held on his lap for the entire journey home. He carried written instructions with the words to say to invoke heaven to bless the partial souls still trapped in the brain upon death. The boxes contained long silver nails, anointed and blessed; enough nails to last for years.
One box of the holy nails was given to Father David.
The ritual had not yet been performed or tested. Arlene was to be the first.
****
The next day Arlene was tired and stayed in bed.
"Of course, you will stay in bed. You received quite a shock yesterday," Madame Cari told her. She was frightened at how frail her maid had become. Why had she not noticed before?
Arlene only nibbled on the food Madame Cari brought her. She sipped on the red tea. She had specifically asked for it. "I crave for it sometimes," she said. Father Pierre administered the yellow syrup. Nothing helped. By the end of the second day, Arlene could not be woken up. She died later in the night as Madame Cari held her hand.
****
Father Pierre gave last rites, as the rest of the staff stood by. He'd thought of performing the new ritual privately behind closed doors, but everyone already knew what would happen if he did nothing. Everyone watched as Gabel held out a velvet lined tray containing one thick silver nail, and a small ornate silver peen hammer. Everyone listened to the Latin words he spoke to heaven. He picked up the nail and in one swift movement, drove it through her brain just above the ear. Arlene never noticed; she rested in peace.
The funeral was held at St. Paul's Cathedral on the following day. Nothing remarkable occurred.
Chapter 24
The statue was complete. A beautiful eight-foot angel stood on a pedestal looking down at the square, a single tear on its face. The plaque below was engraved with the name of each person who died in the aftermath of the storm. Just above the names, a poem; an epitaph for all to read.
Goodbye was a promise I didn't wish to keep
Eternity has gone to sleep
Together forever was not a lie
But you are here and, where am I?
I'm sculpted in your memory
And chiseled into history
No one can steal the time we had
So smile for me and don't be sad
Remember me and say my name
The moon and stars are not to blame
While Heaven rains and angels weep
Death is the promise we all must keep
And while Riene had only commissioned the sculptor to sculpt a beautiful angel, she thought it bore a striking resemblance to Madame Bereitha and was more than pleased.
****
Riene had Father Pierre bring the orphans resulting from the Night of the Dead, to the Chateau where she provided them a proper home. The Chateau held far too many empty rooms. She wanted Max to continue his childhood in the company of other children.
Madame Cari stayed mostly in her room still deeply grieving the loss of Damas, Silas and Arlene. She felt the Chateau should be in mourning for at least a year. She fretted over the noise the children made, but whenever Riene took the children to the village, she found the quiet even worse and found herself listening for their return.
She went down to the library for something to read one afternoon. She reached a book from atop a shelf and turned around to see a little girl peeking out from behind a chair placed beside the door. They stared at each other for seconds, before Cari smiled and said, "Hello." The little girl ran out the library door and disappeared. It happened again in the garden. The same peeking girl, another smile and "Hello" from Cari, sent the girl running for the safety of the Chateau.
She had a cordial relationship with Riene. Her daughter-in-law dutifully brought Max to see her once a day. Cari listened to him read and taught him a little, about the Chateau and the estate in Paris that was now his. They also played checkers and card games.
"Who is the little girl with the long dark hair?" she asked Max one afternoon.
"Her name is Gemma," answered Max studying his cards. He laid one down. "She has no mother or father, or brothers or sisters or aunts or uncles or grandparents."
Cari thought about what Max said as she went about her day. She understood the feeling of having no one. None of the children Riene brought to the Chateau had anyone. No grandparents. Their families and the people they loved had died along with Silas. When Riene first came to the Chateau, she had no one either. Instead of welcoming her…
Memories of her grandmother intruded.
A smiling woman who didn't tell her to speak quieter, or to walk a certain way, or to temper her emotions. Instead, when in her presence, Cari was encouraged, to be free. Together they danced across rooms, sang songs out loud, played imaginary games and ate too many sweets. Cari was sent to her a few times a year, until one year, Grand-mere was too ill. Cari never had the chance to say goodbye. The emotional outbursts that followed in response to the loss were considered unacceptable for a young lady. Cari was punished until she learned to hide her feelings.
After her marriage, Damas seemed to only love the Cari that expressed no emotion, retiring to his own locked quarters at the least show of passion. It wasn't until Darlena's death that she really learned to bury the Cari who cried and laughed and sang. There was no longer any reason to do any of those things. An image came of Darlena peeking out from the wardrobe. Come play with me Maman.
She thought of little Gemma peeking out at her from behind the library chair, but it was a different face looking back. It brought another memory, one she never thought about anymore. One she never touched.
****
A memory of walking down to the gypsy camp with Arlene. Cari had been nervous not knowing what to expect but determined to have her way. It was night. Damas was away and the rest of the staff asleep. Cari was laughing as the wind lifted her hat tossing it away and teasing her long blond hair. A wild wind on a warm night. A full moon illuminated the swirling clouds above them. Frogs and crickets sang out with abandon.
A handsome gypsy man met them as they approached. Behind him, peeking out from his legs, was a beautiful gypsy child with large dark eyes and solemn expression.
A smiling friendly Cari bent down low to say hello and gave her a peppermint. She was so young, she didn't know what to do with the peppermint, but she reached out to touch Cari's blond hair and smiled as she did so.
The gypsy man smiled as he held out his hand. Cari smiled back at him. Arlene did not. Cari shook hands with the gypsy man dropping a coin into his palm as Arlene had instructed. He walked them to the tent of the fortune teller.
Others had gotten there first, and Cari subdued her spirit as they waited for the others to finish, reminding herself of what she had come for.
****
When Cari first came to the Chateau, she wanted to fill the empty rooms with children, but she and Damas had trouble conceiving a child. Month after month of failure caused a strain between them. They were not as happy now as in the beginning. It was painful to see friends and cousins pregnant or with babies and children. They lived an existence of fragile feelings.
Damas was away when the gypsies came to Saint Ange. They didn't come often, maybe once every five years or so. Cari was happy to ignore them u
ntil she overheard some talk from the staff. They'd talked of a fortune teller in the gypsy camp who could see the future. She also made potions. Love potions. Fertility potions.
She told Arlene what she had overheard.
"Stay away from there, Madam. The future is secret. Life is meant to unfold as it happens. To open the secret, is a curse, not a blessing."
But Arlene couldn't know how she felt. She'd already had grown children, by the time she became Cari's maid.
When she told Arlene, she was going to see the fortune teller, despite the warnings; Arlene insisted on coming with her and lent her a dress, insisting she wear it.
"Don't let them know who you are. Tonight, you are not Madame Montrell of the Chateau. You must hide your money in several pockets. They will try to take whatever you have."
They waited until the staff went to sleep before slipping out into the dark. Cari felt like a sneaking schoolgirl. Not the dignified woman she had become.
****
It was Cari's turn. The gypsy man would not let Arlene enter. Arlene stopped Cari's hand from reaching for more coin.
"I'll wait out here," she said firmly.
Cari stepped into the tent. At first, she could see nothing as it was too dark. Then she saw the gypsy woman as her eyes adjusted; a very old woman with clear sharp eyes.
"Sit." She motioned Cari to a chair.
Once Cari sat, she noticed the woman holding a cup toward her. She looked inside, but the cup was empty. Then she understood and placed a coin into it. The woman continued holding the cup. Cari placed another. Then a third. They will try to take whatever you have. Then she stopped. The woman set the cup down, but her eyes never left Cari's.
"Show me your hands." A light flared and Cari could now see all around the tent. So many strange objects. A monkey's head. Rattlesnake rattles tied together and hung. Masks made of feathers. Knives with carved hilts. A tiny set of tusks.
"You want a baby," the gypsy said peering into her hands. "You want children." She looked into Cari's eyes. "Your husband is barren. You cannot have." She turned the cup over, the coins tumbled out and she pushed them toward Cari giving them back. "Madame Terra cannot help. Be glad! Children only break your heart."
Cari was crushed with disappointment. "But they say you can do things. You can fix things. Please! Please help me! I have more coin. I will pay whatever you ask."
Madame Terra stared back. "Of course, you can pay what I ask. I know of you, Madame Montrell. Money comes easy. Not hard. But what would you do?"
"I would do anything!" Cari loved children. She wanted a houseful.
"Anything? Remember, your husband cannot give. Madame Terra cannot change your husband."
She stared into Cara until Cara understood. A look of horror crossed Cari's face as she nodded. Madame Terra smiled. She placed the three coins back into the cup. Then she held it out for more. Cari gave her all that she had.
"You come back in three nights. You come alone. Madame Terra will fix."
She lied to Arlene, telling her all about the rosy future Madame Terra had given to her.
Three nights later Cari sneaked her way back to the gypsy camp. The gypsy man led her to a different tent. Madame Terra welcomed her with an empty cup. Cari filled it with coin.
She watched as the fortune teller reached into a cupboard and brought out a little bottle and set it before her. She waved her hand and brought out a pot of tea. She boiled the water added some leaves and seeped it before adding the potion. She poured it into a cup and set it before Cari.
"You drink all."
Cari drank the tea, while Madame Terra watched.
The tent grew and Cari felt dizzy. Madame Terra was gone. She tried to stand, and a gypsy man was there to help her to a bed. A different gypsy man. His hair was lighter, like Damas's. He touched her gently, removing her clothes until she was naked. Cari was tangled in pleasure as the handsome man kissed her and his hands skillfully seduced her, playing here, kissing there and soon there was nothing else in the world but the two of them.
She woke up alone with Madame Terra sitting in the chair beside her. Cari dressed behind a curtain, and Madame Terra summoned the dark-haired gypsy to walk her up to the path to the Chateau. It was still dark.
As she walked back, she wondered if she was pregnant now. She wanted to scream in happiness, dance in elation, but instead she sneaked back into the Chateau and acted like nothing had happened. Nothing at all.
Damas returned two days later. He came to Cari's room that night. He didn't undress her, he only pulled up her gown. They didn't talk. When he was finished, he kissed her forehead and returned to his own bed. She wanted more. But it didn't matter. She was going to be a mother. It meant everything to her. She held no regrets.
For days she existed upon a precipice with little room for movement. The drop to the nethermost loomed on every side. She lived this way every minute of every day for nearly four months; then the precipice collapsed and down came Cari.
A day started with the joy of pregnancy, and Damas in a state of wonder. A small pain arose growing larger until Cari was taken to bed and a physician sent for. Before he arrived, the dream of parenthood burst into the blood and sorrow of miscarriage.
Cari stayed in bed for months, refusing to see Damas until one day he came into her room, regardless. She softened a little when she saw the wear on his face. He told her he was sorry, but he had to leave for India. He would be back as soon as he could, three to four weeks. He said he missed her and then bent down and kissed her full on the mouth before leaving. Cari rose from bed later that day.
The magical kiss had wakened the sleeping princess, thought Cari now as she reminisced. She remembered days of emptiness with nothing to fill them. Much like now.
Damas returned. A different Damas.
"I have something for us," he told her. She was in his room as he unpacked. He brought out a hideous carving of a nearly naked woman. "This is a fertility goddess. If we place it on the bed, she is supposed to invoke the spirits to help us conceive." Cari held it in her hands. Had she felt something? She set it back down. Damas brought out other things. A tin of tea leaves and a small bottle with its contents concealed in dark glass. "We are to make a tea with few drops of this." He smiled. Cari smiled back.
Cari went to Damas's bedroom. They placed the goddess where she could watch them. It made Cari giggle. Damas prepared the tea. They had taught him somewhere in India. Cari wondered where but didn't ask. They drank the tea with the drops by candlelight. Then Cari blew out the candles. They went to Damas's bed in pitch dark. When Cari got there, she was naked, having dropped her gown to the floor. She wondered if the goddess could still see.
Silas was born nine months later. It was the start. Darlene came three years after Silas. In the end the gypsy had only been right about one thing. The children broke her heart.
****
Riene took the children to the village every Saturday to visit the market and to see the statue. Cari watched from a window as they loaded into a cart and Ivan drove them down to the village. No doubt they would meet the fortune teller while they were there.
Another fortune teller. Cari had gone down to the market alone once, long ago, just after the marriage of Silas and Riene. She had wanted to come disguised, but everyone knew who she was. Villagers she did not know greeted and nodded to Madame Montrell.
She had envisioned him and his mother as sly and devious, assuming them as part of a scheme that tricked Silas into marrying Riene. She was recognized and welcomed at once. Madame Bereitha poured red tea and served cookies, and both joined her waiting expectedly for an explanation of why she had come.
"I thought I should meet you both," she revealed. "Riene considers you her family.
They both agreed with the comment, Madame Bereitha admitting she thought of Riene as a daughter. They gave a dull account of how they had moved from the family farm after the death of her husband but made no mention of the fortune-telling business.
>
Cari explained that she had created a past for Riene, telling her social friends how she had come from the United States from a family that had recently lost their fortune.
For reasons she could not understand this angered Madame Bereitha who cooled her hospitality at once.
"How deceitful of you. There is nothing wrong with Riene. She is not a cause of shame. We are proud of the way she has overcome the obstacles in her life!"
"Mother!" Gabel had interrupted with the warning. Madame Bereitha caught herself and left the table abruptly slamming the red door behind her.
This left Cari alone at the table with the fortune teller Gabel, staring right through her. It was awkward. Cari could not think of words.
"You build walls of bricks. The freedom you seek will come when you remove the bricks."
With that he nodded and disappeared behind the red door leaving Cari alone, livid with anger. Damned the fortune-tellers! Damned the tea!
All these years the telling had made no sense, but now she understood, as she sat on her balcony. A thick wall made up of bricks surrounding her so she wouldn't be touched. And just on the other side of the wall, a little girl peeked shyly back at her.
****
"I should like you to introduce me to the children," she told Riene that evening.
The children were lined up for her the next morning, and each introduced himself from Patrick the tallest to Gemma the smallest. Max thought it was great fun.
"My name is Max. I am your grandson."
"My name is Gemma," the shy Gemma spoke in a whisper.
"Are you our grand-mere now?" a dark-haired boy in the middle, named Lorin, asked.
... no mother or father, or brothers or sisters or aunts or uncles or grandparents…
