An Unlikely Savior

by Camille Oster

  Chapter 5

  They rode for two days. The horse plodded along at a steady pace. Virginie’s backside was beyond sore as was probably every other part of her body, but there was nothing she could do about it. She’d tried to ask him about his life, but he clearly didn’t want to discuss it in any detail.

  “Who’s dress am I wearing?” she asked.

  “Marie’s.”

  “How do you know Marie?” she asked, curious about the woman whose dress she was wearing and what she meant to him, particularly as he seemed to have easy access to her dwelling.

  “She is just a girl I know,” he responded noncommittally. She wondered if they mean anything to each other. She didn’t quite understand how relationships worked amongst the people he counted himself one of.

  “She is not married,” Virginie stated.

  “No.”

  “Do you like her?”

  “I don’t see what business it is of your?”

  “I am just trying to pass the time.”

  “By discussing my relationship with women?”

  “Why not? We don’t fare well discussing politics. I suppose we could discuss your religious piety, but I’m not sure it would entertain either of us.”

  “It would be a short conversation.” So, he wasn’t particularly pious. It did not surprise her, he wasn’t the type who dedicated much of his time to spiritual thinking.

  “Are you planning on marrying?”

  “How do you know I am not married?”

  “I saw where you live; there was no indication that it had ever seen a woman’s touch.” Not that she knew that for sure, but she could well imagine that no woman would want to live so sparsely. He didn’t answer her question. Maybe no woman would want to put up with what he offered, which was very little. It still made her wonder why he didn’t capitalize on the advantages he had. He could offer a bride much more, but he chose not to.

  “Believe me; I have more than enough of women’s touches where it matters.”

  “Is that what matters? I would have thought it would be the touch of a wife that matters.”

  “I touch women I want to, women who stir me. Not some old titled fart, fat and bloated with wealth and excess.” He was attacking her again, attacking her future marriage prospects. She knew full well that a rich, titled man would be the outcome that her guardian wanted for her.

  “It is not certain that he will be old,” she said just to challenge his assumptions even though he was most probably right.

  “Come on, Virginie,” he stressed her name. “You are a daughter of a Marquis, you will marry a Marquis, and men don’t usually come into their titles until they are well into their forties. Some dirty old man who wants a young bride to bed each night.”

  “Must you be so crude?” She didn’t appreciate the ugly light he was casting on her reality. It was just the way things were and he was pointing it out like she had a choice. There were not things one challenged; they just were as they were.

  “Just pointing out the realities. You might be a high born lady, but your life is not going to be a fairy tale. At least I have control of my own fate.”

  “But you seem to have paid a heavy price.”

  “Not as heavy as you think. The laces and baubles are only illusions, don’t forget that. It is what you trade yourself for when you sell yourself to breed some titled man’s heirs.”

  “I don’t have quite such a Machiavellian view on life, or your bitterness. That is at the root of your problem,” she said as she realized more about him, “you are bitter and your bitterness is limiting your prospects to the gutter.”

  “You have it wrong, it is the gutter, as you refer to it, that is my liberation, it alleviates me from the bitterness that comes with your society. I have freedom to do what I want; I can do and think as I please. That is a true luxury, one you have never known, you are told what to do, what to think and who you can associate with, and on what terms. Everything is dictated to you and you follow it like a sheep.”

  While Virginie recognised that there was some truth to what he was saying, the trade off seemed a bit extreme. He might have freedom, but what could he do with it? She’d always envied the freedom that men had over women, but she had never thought that things could be different. That freedom hadn’t been enough for Tomas; he required more and had left because of it. He had turned his back on his family in the process and she couldn’t quite grasp what he had gained from it.

  “There is a price to everything,” she said.

  “At least I choose mine. You, on the other hand do not, and now it is likely that you will marry someone English.”

  The thought hadn’t occurred to her. If she was in England, she would have to embrace her English family and whatever marriage they secured for her. It was a scary proposition; the people around her had never been particularly complementary of the English, feeling they are more than a little backward. Who knew what kind of man she would end up married to? She didn’t know this family at all and wasn’t sure she could trust them to make good choices for her. It was an eventuality that she hadn’t even considered, but now that he mentioned it, the full implications of it hit her.

  “If we make it,” he finished quietly.

  They rode for long stretches without talking. It gave Tomas time to think about what he needed to do. He needed to secure passage for her. He would use the silver she had in her satchel to do it. They needed to eat again, and he needed to find a way of pawning some of the silver. Things would be much easier if they had some money. They could blend in more easily while he found a way to secure her passage. He did know someone in Nantes that might be able to help him. It wasn’t someone he knew well, just an acquaintance of a friend, but he needed help from someone. There would be people on the docks looking for fleeing aristocrats, anyone they could drag back and make an example of. That wasn’t a fate he would wish on anyone, and especially a girl who was not used to suffering of any kind. While he resented her, he also valued her innocence. It was a rare enough commodity and he wasn’t bitter enough to not want it preserved, maybe not at all costs, but he would try. He didn’t owe his brother, but he wanted so save his brother from the weight of an ugly fate to his ward.

  He also struggled with the thoughts of what would happen to her if they got caught. He wasn’t a killer by any stretch, but she would be better off if he spared her from the suffering and the fear that she would encounter in the process. He just wasn’t sure he could do it, even if it was in her best interest. It was a harsh reality, one he hoped he wouldn’t have to face.

  He was pretty sure that she had no concept of the danger they were actually in. If he did this well, he would deliver her onto a ship being none the wiser, so she could sail off to the English and out of his life. In the back of his mind, there was the concern that the revolutionary fever would spread to England as well. He could not send her off if it did. He would have to find something else to do with her if that eventuality unfolded. He would gather whatever news he could on the situation in England when he got to Nantes, and then decide if he had to change his plans. He wasn’t sure what he would do. Perhaps they would have to travel to Italy. It would be a long and arduous process with danger at every turn, but if he had no choice, there was little else he could do.

  They spent another night under the stars. They were getting closer to Nantes and the stretches between farmhouses were getting shorter. It would be more dangerous to seek shelter now, so they were better off staying the night in the open. He made camp under the cover of some pine trees. The pines made for a decent mattress, keeping the cold of the earth from their backs. She didn’t argue about the arrangement anymore, she just accepted it and laid down next to him.

  She fell asleep immediately, but it took him some time. He needed to plan through what they were going to do the next day as they reached Nantes. Nantes would be full of revolutionaries and they needed to move around the town without drawing attention to themselves.

  H
e woke in the middle of the night with the girl snuggled in to him. It wasn’t a comfortable situation for him. He wasn’t used to restraining himself with a female body so near. His desire suffused his very bones, but he wouldn’t touch her. His brother would never forgive him, and she would be ruined. Her delectable body was meant for some upper class twit who didn’t deserve her, but that was the way of the world. Not that he felt that he deserved her either. He wasn’t quite sure who would be worthy of Virginie Durmont. She was beautiful and innocent enough to be a Vestal virgin, existing to let everyone know that they were not quite good enough to be next to a chosen servant of the gods.

  They got to Nantes late the next day after a long day of riding. Nantes was big enough that they could blend into the crowd, but they would be better off walking around the town on foot. They tied up the horse at the edge of town. They hadn’t eaten all day and Virginie was flagging with exhaustion and hunger. He needed to feed her, but first he needed money. He would pawn something small, something that wouldn’t draw as much suspicion. He also couldn’t bring the girl. If his activities drew attention, he needed to take care of it without her there. On close inspection and under interrogation, there would be no way she could hide what she was and it didn’t matter what she wore.

  He decided that the best place to put her was in plain sight. He would leave her at the market. People were often too busy minding their own business at the market, and it wasn’t the place where people sought fleeing aristocrats.

  “If anyone approaches you, you have to say that you are here with your father delivering a crop of cabbages. And try not to sound so haughty.”

  “I am not haughty.”

  “Do you have absolutely no self-awareness? Actually, just pretend you are dumb, it is safer that way.” He didn’t like it, but he needed to leave her. He could pull off a reasonable accent, but she would fail completely. “Or pretend you are English.”

  “I can’t speak English well.”

  “You’re English will likely be better than anyone’s here. They won’t know the difference.” He pulled out one of the smaller pieces of silver from the satchel and left her in the busy market place. He would be as fast as he could.

  He only had to discreetly ask around and he soon found someone who would exchange his silver for coin. There was a merchant in one of the alleys that seemed to buy anything. He wasn’t going to get a good price, but would put up a bit of a fight before accepting whatever was on offer.

  “Where did you get this?” the man in the shop asked looking him up and down. He was being checked out for any tell-tale signs of being a fleeing person. Even if the merchant wasn’t interested in stringing up aristocrats, he would look for any excuse to take the small silver vase in exchange for alerting the revolutionaries.

  Tomas did his best to look bored. He could pretend well enough to be someone raised in reduced circumstances, not that he would ever get away with it in Angers. The truth was that he was never truly accepted by the people in Angers. They knew what he was and he would never be one of them, which created a bit of a problem for him, because he didn’t belong anywhere else either.

  He finally haggled a small purse of francs off the man, worth significantly less than the silver in the vase he exchanged it for, but he needed the money more than he needed a good bargain, considering the time it would take to find a good buyer. Stolen things always sold at a heavy discount, and he did his best to make it seem like the item was stolen.

  Once he had the purse, he returned as quickly as he could to the market square without creating suspicion. He felt increasing worry when he couldn’t see the girl anywhere. He walked through the market place and eventually stumbled on her looking through ribbons. Did the girl have nothing in her head but ribbons and trinkets? The minute he left her alone, she headed immediately toward the impractical.

  He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the attentive merchant. She didn’t fight him as he walked her out of the square. “Do you want ribbons or something to eat?”

  “You took ages; I had to look at something.”

  He let her go, but continued walking. Before long they came to a tavern, which was a good place to blend in and get a meal. It looked like the tavern that would serve the full cross section of society, with the exception of the less than revered members of high society.

  “You will have to be my wife again and act accordingly,” he said to Virginie.

  Virginie had no idea how to act like a wife to someone like Tomas, but she didn’t get a chance to talk about it because he was already inside the Tavern and she could only rush to follow. The smell of this tavern was just as revolting as the one she had found him in. It was dark and full of people. The ceiling was very low and the floor was covered in mud. It was full of people and the sparse light from the windows made for a gloomy atmosphere. Virginie didn’t want to be there, it wasn’t comforting or inviting in any way. She couldn’t understand why he wanted to go here, surely they would be better off keeping moving.

  “Why are we here?” she whispered as she joined him at a small table in the corner of the tavern. It barely seated the two of them. The chairs were rickety and Virginie was scared it would collapse under her.

  “We need to eat,” he said. He made some kind of hand gesture to one of the serving girls who disappeared into the back to come back with two bowls of broth and some bread. Tomas gave her some coins and she smiled salaciously at him. Virginie took an instant dislike to the girl, she was pretty but she had bad teeth and her dress didn’t seem to fit properly. Worst was the way the girl smiled with her interest firmly fixed on Tomas. Virginie realized that the girl was a prostitute and it made Virginie feel sick that the audacious woman, who tried to ply her trade on a man who was for all intents and purposes sitting with his wife.

  “Vile creature,” Virginie said and Tomas looked surprised.

  “She does what she has to in order to get by. You have no right to look down on her.”

  “Really, does the sanctity of marriage have no meaning to you?”

  “The what?”

  “Your wife is sitting right here remember.”

  “The world is falling apart and you are worried that I am supposedly dishonoring you in front of a pack of strangers?” he challenged. Virginie didn’t give a damn about the people here, but for some reason she was disappointed with Tomas.

  “I just expected more from you,” she said.

  “More than risking my life to take you to safety?” he answered. She felt a bit foolish now. She wasn’t entirely sure why she had gotten angry. Something in her had just wanted him to be better, but she wasn’t entirely sure why. He was doing everything he could to help her and she knew it, so she didn’t understand what it was in her that wanted to see more in him.

  Virginie ate some of the bread and tried the broth. It was little more than flavored water, but it was warm and she was hungry.

  Tomas tensed and stopped eating. Virginie looked around the crowded tavern to see what worried him. A group of soldiers were entering the door, making a bit of a ruckus as they did. They were wearing red jackets and dirty white pants. Apparently no one liked seeing them.

  “Who are they?” Virginie asked quietly

  “Republican Guards,” he said. “They are here to conscript.”

  “Get out of here!” someone shouted at the Guards.

  “This is a public place,” someone else shouted back starting a shouting match that saw the tension in the whole place increase dramatically.

  “Not for murdering dogs.”

  “You a royalist now?”

  “No, but I don’t tolerate murdering women and children!”

  “That’s what you get for fighting the will of the people.”

  “You mean complete lack of honor? What kind of man are you?”

  The Guards were undeterred by this objection to their presence. They ploughed their way through the crowded tavern, apparently seeking something or someone. Tomas said they were con
scripting, but Virginie wondered if it they were looking for her. Maybe they were looking for fleeing people.

  “Let’s go,” Tomas whispered to her. “Take the bread.”

  They got up and Virginie noticed that one of the Guards had his attention fixed on Tomas. She snuck toward the back of the premises, away from the Guard and the crowd that was getting heated and restricting the movements of the soldiers.

  Tomas found a back door into an alley. “There is always a back door,” he said with a smile.

  “What did they want?” she asked constantly looking behind them to see if any of the soldiers had caught up with them.

  “They want men to fight down in Vendee, there is a royalist revolt down there and they need more soldiers.”

  “From the taverns?”

  “They grab anyone they want.” He walked at a brisk pace through the streets. Virginie wasn’t sure he had any idea where he was going, but she followed him. They walked down streets with linen hanging across the street, then down others that were filled with stinking waste. Virginie almost got hit by a waste stream emptied from one of the rooms above the street. She felt nauseous with disgust. She hadn’t exactly gotten a good impression of Nantes and she didn’t understand why anyone would want to live here.