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

by Longward, Alaric

  Inside, Henri was in bed with an Italian whore. It is unfathomable, how such a sight can hurt an ex lover, for memories of being special to someone are hardest ones to heal and mine were still fresh as an oozing wound. When the door opened, he was vigorously thrusting at a dark haired beauty, who was laying on bed, moaning in apparent pleasure, but his vigor disappeared as his eyes met mine. ‘What the fuck are you...’

  I could imagine the guard smirking outside, trying to figure out ways of avoiding necessary punishment, yet grasping at the opportunity to humiliate the unwary colonel. I contemplated on leaving, but instead I stayed put, pouting stubbornly, as Henri’s grey orbs burned with impatience, indignant and angry. I nodded at the ceased activity and waved my hand towards them. ‘You use the bed like a reasonable man, then. I had to cope with the table full of crumbs and splinters, but I am not bitter about that, Henri. No. It is normal you share such comforts with whores, since you pay her. Had you paid me, perhaps I would have enjoyed a more luxurious mattress.’

  He got up, his face incredulous, awkwardly picked up the flustered woman and thrust her to the side room, where she was complaining loudly in a furious Italian. Henri turned, naked as the day he was born, walked to the table, took a cigar and sat brazenly before me on a rickety chair, his legs spread. He had told me he smoked when facing hard situations, and I could understand this was one, but he handled it with cool professionalism, likely imagining a terrible battle was taking place and the thrown items in the next-door room cannon fire.

  God, Marie, but I tried not to look. He was still somewhat erect, dripping with juices from the woman, and I, a fool, blushed. He scoffed, as if he had proven himself superior in such an awkward situation, where an average man would have stammered and tried to cover themselves up. I looked away instinctively, cursing myself, knowing this is what he wanted to achieve. ‘Feel free, Jeanette, to look at me while we talk. It looks good, I know, and if one bursts into a man’s home uninvited, one should play by the man’s rules.’

  I stubbornly turned my face to him, cursing the mixed, wildly twisted feelings for the man, but managed to wrestle myself to concentrate on the issue at hand, and I mean his refusal to let us visit Lyons. ‘Marcel requested leave,’ I said bluntly.

  He nodded, casually, puffing smoke. His face took on an uncomfortable, long suffering look. ‘He did. I know.’

  ‘And you refused him? Did he explain the reason?’

  ‘Your siblings? Yes.’

  ‘Then why the fuck do you not let us visit the shoddy shithole?’ I yelled at him.

  ‘First, you are the cantiniére of the fifth. You are needed with the company.’

  ‘The men will survive...’

  He banged his hand on the chair to silence me, the hand rest cracking off. He looked like an angry Greek statue. ‘Did you ever wonder why they wanted me to let Voclain’s gang live?’

  ‘Because you are a troublemaker and they want you to show you can behave and obey orders under stress?’ I said with sneer.

  ‘No, of course not, you fool,’ he said. ‘They are here to make sure you stay here. Saliceti, that day? Remember? He hired Voclain to keep an eye on you. He does not trust me to do so. My friend is always balancing people against each other. He is trying to take control of Gilbert.’

  I looked and sounded confused. ‘Take control of Gilbert? And did not Gilbert pay Voclain to kill us, that same day?’

  ‘Voclain, girl, is a useful tool for both of these parties, Gilbert and my friend Paul Barras.’ Henri grimaced as if there was something foul in his mouth but nodded his head. ‘Paul saved my ass, but he has ambitions to serve France. There is something he needs, something that makes him desperate enough to pay the likes of Voclain. He tries to extort Gilbert who holds it. And Voclain is keeping an eye on you while they fight it out,’ he told me tiredly. ‘They killed Humps, yes, and I think that was Thierry’s idea, not Voclain’s, even if the bastard likely enjoyed it. But have they made a move for you since? No. Of course they could have, but they have not. They are waiting to see for whom they work for. Rarely have such filth been useful to so many of the Parisian scum.’

  I leaned on the table, thinking about it. ‘Gilbert has a secret, something he stole from Danton. I think he was party to the murder of Mirabeau, in some crucial way so the revolutionaries would get rid of that great man, forever blocking their ambitions. Georges said there is a contract where many men agreed to do this deed and Gilbert apparently stole it…’

  Henri nodded. ‘Ah, I see. They sound like fucking pirates, signing pacts to murder men. So, my friend Paul is trying to get this contract, to find the men who signed it, to purge them from filthy Paris. He is trying to clean the government of all the bad seed, and he is holding Gilbert at check. Barras pays Voclain, yes, to make sure you are safe, in order to keep Gilbert on his toes. Gilbert paid him to remind Voclain he might be the better master in the future. I had a letter from Paul last week.’ He rapped the desk where a disorderly stack of correspondence was lying haphazardly. I noticed a letter with a very disorderly lettering lying on top. ‘Gilbert is extorting new, upcoming men and Barras is facing hard choices. It is touch and go for him as he guards the new, Jacobin free Republic, and your cousin is fighting fire with fire. They say he is out of jail now, didn’t even spend a week there and even have a small position in Tuiliers. And Barras has not received the contract yet for Gilbert does not seem to have many weaknesses. Other than you. Barras is thinking about it, wondering if he should call you to Paris to testify on what Danton told you, or if he should use you to smear Gilbert’s reputation. It is like nasty children at play there. It is truly distasteful.’

  ‘But Voclain still obeys your friend?’ I asked, carefully.

  ‘For now, perhaps? As I said, nothing has happened, and I have watched the bastards,’ Henri said angrily, scratching his thigh. ‘And you wish to go to Lyons. Fool.’

  ‘Yes, but…’

  Henri smiled. ‘Paul has lovers, he is trying to get rid of the most scandalous ones of them, but Gilbert knows much and is not fooled. Former noble, Josephine, is a problem, some others as well, for Barras is a goat. Your Gilbert has to be careful still, for the White Terror is killing the Jacobins in droves, but soon, he will have found his feet and will have men who owe him dark debts again, and need no longer hide. Paul told me this. But even now, Gilbert is having Lyons watched for he has not forgotten you. Should you leave? They will know, Voclain’s gang, getting paid by both side, and on the road, many things will happen, things that Marcel cannot protect you from. Nor I. Nor Barras.’

  ‘So you are guarding us by refusing the leave?’ I asked, slightly mollified.

  He shook his hand. ‘God knows why! You made the company look bad with that hussar, and likely you fuck with half the men, anyway.’

  I slammed my fist on the table, though it was not as impressive as his show of force with the chair. ‘I made myself look like an upstart bastard by fooling around with you! The men have doubts, and have not forgotten, and why would you care if I did fuck with the entire battalion and the next one? Eh? And what is that thing destroying the next door room if not a whore?’ Indeed, there was something happening in the room for there was a crash of something made of porcelain or glass.

  He laughed like the devil, bitter and amused at the same time. ‘I don’t know why it bothers me, Jeanette! I am a possessive bastard! Peasant or not, I feel slighted if I share a woman with the privates!’ I smoldered, unable to believe his nerve, and he shrugged. ‘I am honest, at least. I like my women a bit more docile and much nobler, but I don’t like my ex women sleeping with filth, either. Imagine, if they have a list in heaven for your sins, and my name comes up with the thieves and some former pig herder!’

  I twitched, swallowing my anger. ‘One day I will marry, Henri, and it won’t be to a man who tries to own me. And I’ve not touched anyone in this army, but a poxy former captain.’

  ‘I’m not poxy! And you will be surprised to know, that any ma
n would wish to own you, girl. Men do not enjoy willful women.’

  I shook my head and changed the subject, swallowing my anger. ‘And what now? You expect us to wait until either Barras or Gilbert invites us to Paris? Should we wait until news of Paul Barras tumbling down steps reaches us and Voclain is freed of his other benefactor? What would happen then, eh?’

  Henri laughed dryly. ‘Then you and I will die, the nasty Voclain will be the colonel, you will be Gilbert’s plaything for awhile, and we will meet in hell over fine wine. Yet, this is all I can offer you. Paul will help us and himself, perhaps, and you do not go to Lyons, until things are clear.’

  ‘So, we cannot go, due to Voclain?’

  ‘I said you do not go because of Gilbert!’ Henri yelled. ‘But yes, Voclain is keeping an eye on you, and plotting.’

  ‘And how do you think we will fare if Paul invites us to Paris for his schemes?’ I asked him carefully.

  He was quiet for a while, frowning and growling. Finally he shook his head and swiped his hand carelessly. ‘He is my friend. But he is a shifty bastard. I don’t think it is a good idea for you to go to Paris for either man. Nor can this continue like this, Voclain a bomb about to burst.’

  ‘And if Voclain should fall?’

  Henri shrugged, scratching at an itch on hit thigh. ‘I told you. As long as Barras has some kind of a leach on their necks, I cannot act. But if they were to die in battle? Who knows? I tried to be rid of them that way. I hear one of the bastards was saved and spared by you.’ He looked disgusted as he puffed on the cigar.

  I ignored his look. ‘If they died while looting?’

  Henri’s eyes flashed. ‘Fine! I do not like to sit and wait until he finishes his holy war with Gilbert and others. I think, should Gilbert or Barras win, either one of them, it would be best for us that Voclain is not part of any foreseeable future. But it has to look like an accident. You have friends, I gather. Good ones?’

  ‘I have Laroche and Skins with me when we go out to find things to steel, Charles as well, often Marcel, the other sergeants look out for us. None have forgotten Humps.’

  ‘What are you going to do, then?’ he asked, about to suggest something, but remaining silent with difficulty. He was not a man to let others take charge of anything.

  I thought about it. Our enemy thought us fools, mere women and a woman is a fool for many things, Marie, but we are also schemers and chameleons. Cleft had been avoiding our company; in fact, he was favoring Vivien lately, sitting in her cantina. I weighed my conscience, wrestling with myself, understanding that our enemies had few qualms and that perhaps, I should not have them either. Had not Cleft told people about me and Henri, foully sullying me, helping our enemy in small, nasty ways? Had he not possibly known about Humps? I felt dirty as a rat rifling through trash, but I clobbered my conscience to a deep crag in some remote corner of soul for I had an idea. Henri saw my mood change and waved me off with some parting words. ‘Remember, he still watches Lyons, likely, but getting rid of Voclain might help you get a step ahead of your bastard, single-minded cousin. Be careful, girl. And good luck. Tell me if you need some help I can give.’

  I got up stiffly, and turned to go. Then I turned, bent over him, plucked off his cigar, and kissed him hard on the lips, for I wanted to and he did not resist. I tasted blood, as he let me crush my lips fiercely on his, and I was panting hard as I got up to look at his eyes, very closely. ‘Do you love any woman in this world?’

  He was surprised, he thought about it. ‘I did.’

  ‘Was it in Paris?’

  He looked away, twitching in agitated anger. ‘It will make no difference, Jeanette, this discussion. You are grasping at very thin straws, and it is as I told you. I am not worthy.’

  I turned his surprised face to me, violently. ‘You? Not I?’

  He cursed foully. ‘You. Of course!’

  I pushed him and shook my head. ‘You are a fool. But I thank you for your protection. Still.’ I straightened myself, dropped the cigar on his lap, and enjoyed his surprised screams. Just outside the barrack, I nearly bumped into the old general of the demi-brigade, a dour man, waiting and fuming at the delay. I opened the door and bowed to the man. ‘The busy colonel asks you to come in.’ The general nodded gratefully, went in, and the guard and I snickered at the awkward silence that followed from inside.

  I walked back and looked at our shack. It would have fit perfectly some filthy back ally in Paris, but now, the strange storage house and sleeping quarters served us as home.

  Next door from us was Vivien’s shack. Generally, the army camped in such a way that officers were in neat rows to the south, save we still did not have a lieutenant and Henri was doing the captain’s role as well as that of a colonel. The various support personnel were in rows between the officers and the regular men, and so, we had a central location in the camp,

  Vivien’s shack was the hotbed of discontent. The nasty grumblers and unwanted complainers went there, former Jacobins sour about their present lot. It was made up of moldy bricks and rotten boards and even looked ominous. We did not talk with her, nor could we, for she slept and lived with ever vigilant Thierry, and if there ever were an uneasy neighborhood, then it was ours, since Marcel wanted to shoot the man, and Thierry wanted to kill all of us but none could do what they pleased. Yet, both did fine business and the battalion cantiniére enjoyed relative peace, as our homes became hubs for social and other activities.

  Laroche and Thierry had an unhealthy competition going on as well, though it was mainly unhealthy for the unlucky local population. Thierry had the Poxy Fox outsmart Laroche many of a time in the immediate surroundings of the camp for potential wine, spirits in general and bread they stole, and Laroche and Charles had some success when they went out to rob at nights, and further afield. Henriette finally figured to pay a man from Alsace, a young man with an old violin and fine tenor voice, to play in our camp fire, and that made Vivien’s business shrivel up considerably, no matter the amount of loot Fox brought her.

  The valley we were camped in was near beautiful Savona, which was a hopeless to resist lure for many men. Many abandoned the company, if not permanently, then sometimes for weeks. Bored gendarmes were constantly escorting men back to the company and few bothered to punish the bastards.

  I dodged such bored gendarmes as I was looking for Marcel. I spotted him busily, happily chopping wood and pulled him to the side, and he noticed the intense look on my face. He nodded and I whispered to him. ‘Henri said he cannot let us go to Lyons for Gilbert would know, and the bastard is regaining his strength. If we are ever to achieve anything, Voclain and his lot should not be alive to make things hairy for us. They should disappear.’

  Marcel was eyeing me carefully. He chopped down on a large piece of old wood, and it flew angrily around in pieces as he thought about it. ‘It’s been peaceful, has it not? They have been glowering, cursing, Voclain has been drinking and mumbling veiled threats. Thierry speaking shit behind our backs. But they have not done anything…’

  I pushed him. ‘But they killed Humps. And they must go.’

  He grimaced as he regained his balance. ‘I was going to say they are docile. I have not forgotten Humps,’ he said with mild reproof. ‘How?’

  ‘Cleft?’ I told him.

  ‘Cleft, our Ass-Chin. Indeed.’ Marcel mused. ‘He is an enigma. A good enough soldier, fairly brave in the battle, shoots quite well. Obeys orders, usually. But he has his own mind, does not fit very well with the others, but he likes to be with one other.’

  ‘Oh?’ I said. ‘Vivien?’

  ‘He likes Vivien, yes. He talks ever boring politics with them, that Didier and Fox, plays a tough sans-culotte trash-boy around them, but I think he is smitten with Vivien. I think he thinks Vivien is sad with Thierry, which would be no wonder. I think he is also interested in you, for his eyes burn with disappointment when you pass. I think our priest is weak for girls, and then hates them, if he cannot get anywhere with them, which is n
o wonder since one is married and the other a young fool. He has, I think, a low self-esteem and hates to feel inferior to other men. So, you plan to use him? How?’ His tone was faintly critical as he was collecting the wood.

  ‘I am the fool?’ I smoldered but decided I did not want to start that discussion. ‘Yes, I mean to use him,’ I said, ashamed. ‘Did he not make up the rumors of the captain and me? The colonel. Henri?’

  ‘Did he make rumors? Jeanette?’

  ‘I told mother…’

  He laughed as he started to pick up the firewood. ‘I know what you told her. She wants to believe you. But I don’t. Know, Jeanette, that we all gossip and sometimes hurt others by lies and truths alike. But what you are doing is dangerous. Playing with a man’s feelings will have consequences, and perhaps you will not enjoy what it leads to. If you do that, then you must accept you are no longer innocent.’ His eyes were smoldering as he regarded me. ‘I think it is a shame if it is so.’

  I swallowed and remembered my promise to Gilbert. I would not hold back. I would suffer, if I had to. For the siblings, if none else. ‘Yes. I understand this.’

  He looked resigned and nodded. ‘Tell us where and when, Jeanette, my girl. Humps is gone, and we must settle it, but be careful. Look out for Cleft, for I doubt he is a reliable ally, being a shifty bastard and all, so do not trust him.’

  I nodded, the decision made.

  So it was, that when Thierry was away for few days in the fair Savona, we saw Cleft talking with Vivien outside the shack, and she was smiling demurely at him. He looked happy, and I was wondering if I should let it be so, but God knows I was tired of sitting on my ass. Charles and Skins were arguing over the best way to roast a lamb, which we did not have, when I finally spied Cleft leaving. He was walking for the barracks, humming contently, and I grabbed a pistol, and ran after him, dodging between ugly shacks and haphazard laundry lines, tripping on bared roots and slick mud, but I caught up to him, and he turned in surprise.