Reign of Fear: Story of French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars (Cantiniére Tales) (40 page)

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 no
t? 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 no 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.

‘Why?’ I asked him
accusingly. ‘Why do you forsake us and our company?’

He stopped to ogle at me, confused, but then thought about it, shrugged, trying to go past me, his face betraying embarrassment and resentment. I stopped him, and he glared at me, a bit drunk and irascible. ‘They agree with me on many things,’ he blurted sullenly.

‘On the Jacobin ideals?’

‘Yes. On those, but you remember, there are no Jacobins left, and we embrace the new Republic with all our hearts,’ he said as if he had sand in his mouth.

‘You agree with their ideas on what should be done with me and mother?’ I said venomously.

‘Didier is interested in that, perhaps,’ he said
slowly, enjoying the small power he was wielding by knowing something I did not. I waited and he shrugged, apparently bored with the game. ‘The bigger of the two Thierry’s men? Wounded at Dego? He wanted me to tell him how Gilbert was bayonetted in Lyons and what that rascal want’s with you and why. He is large, seemingly dumb as an oak, but he asks many questions. The rest do not talk about you, or at least not in front of me, but I recon you all have a destiny beyond my knowledge, one that is inevitable. Now excuse me.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s Vivien, is it not? The reason why you forsake us, and the reason why you lost your interest in me, while I still harbor such notions, perhaps.’ I managed to sound jealous, and found I actually was, a tiniest bit. Had she not bested me in Cleft’s eyes
and was that not an insult to my fragile self-esteem? Perhaps I was as much a bastard as Henri was, being possessive and unreasonable, as I understood I wanted to regain what Vivien had taken, even if I would not wish to keep it. I suspected Marcel was right in his fears that I would not enjoy where this road led me.

He was surprised by the reaction, his attention captured by my
seemingly jealous mood, and he blushed. He hit a wall of a barrack in sudden frustration, drawing attention from some burly grenadiers who started quaffing around their card game, pointing at us. Cleft was exasperated and threw his hands up. ‘Thierry beats her!’

‘What?’ I asked
, surprised.

‘Thierry, Vivien! He hits her when he is drunk, for he is upset how things have turned out. I like to comfort her and she is religious, as I am, so we have much in common.’

‘She is also gorgeous,’ I pointed out and drew the words out, mocking him.

‘She… yes! Not unlike the sunrise above the Alps, she does make my heart churn,’ he looked down to his feet, as he said that, and I envied Vivien for being the object of such words, and cursed Henri and the brief flame we had shared, devoid of such niceties.

‘Does she answer your feelings?’ I inquired sourly.

‘I think she would like to,’ he told me, apologetically. ‘But she is afraid of Thierry.’

I stepped closer to him, feeling a hypocrite, as I looked sad. ‘You left me because men gossiped I was with the captain.’ It had been Cleft who started the gossip, but that was moot.

‘Yes,’ he said, with no attempt to deny it. ‘I will not compet
e for affections of women with other men, for I am worthy enough as I am. You wanted a higher man, a noble man, and forgot about me and I asked you; do you think we could…’

I felt ashamed as I shook my head, feeling like true bastard, and worse; I felt I was a very, very good actor and a liar. ‘My enemies told you stories that are untrue,
Cleft, and you believed them. But so did many others. Now I’m soiled and alone.’

‘You did not deny them, that night! I waited for you, and you came back, drunk, fey,
and strange. I knew you had been with the colonel.’ He was blushing and I knew he had indeed started the rumors next day, bitter and feeling betrayed.

I
gathered myself, leaned forward and I kissed him gently and looked at his huge, surprised and happy eyes. ‘You are afraid, not ready to fight for your feelings, my friend, and left me because I was drunk, scared and a fool, but I was not a whore. Now you belong to another. Fine, it is my turn to suffer. I can wait if Vivien is whom you want and I will give you room to make your own decisions. But you cannot decide, not while Thierry stands in your way.’

He was nodding, bewildered as he eyed me.

‘Are you there?’ I asked him, close to him, trying to beguile him with my eyes, succeeding.

‘I… yes. So, you think I should be with Vivien, but you also have feelings for me? Still?’

‘I always had them,’ I lied, fighting the urge to vomit for my duplicity. ‘You are a lucky man; to have two women in the camp full of men enjoy the thought of you near them. Must be your handsome face, love, or your stubborn nature.’ And I stroked his face, and I saw he wanted to touch me, and I bent closer to him. It was an intense kiss, full of fire and to my surprise, I wanted it and enjoyed it, but also knew I loved Henri, and so I broke it off, pushing him away. He was holding his head with two hands, desperate with lust and suffering very mixed feelings.

‘Thierry,’ I said
with spite. ‘Is between us all. Between you and Vivien, or even you and I, for he would hurt us. I know, love, that you like me, but you have made some commitment to her?’

‘A small one, words,’ he said
, regret playing in his face.

I put my hands on his shoulders, echoing his disappointment, feeling rotten for my treachery
, begging he would not wish to sleep with me, in order to believe me. I would, if it was so, and I was terrified. ‘In that case, you should keep that promise, and see if anything comes out of it. If it does not work out? Perhaps, you and I?

‘Perhaps,’ he said, happy and
full of strange hope, his evening entirely turned upside down, for few men indeed were so situated.

I asked him
evenly: ‘will you help us survive Thierry and help Vivien go free?’

‘I… I have to think about it.’
He was a man under pressure, I saw it. He did not wish to betray the men he knew, but Vivien and I were tangling before his eyes, and the noble Cleft was tempted. I resisted the urge to check my skirt for a tail, and my hair for small horns.

‘Give it some time, Cleft, but not too much, for Vivien suffers and I get lonely.’ I clapped his cheek h
appily and turned to go. His hand reached out and twisted me around.

He was blurting his words desperately, making his decision very quickly.
‘Truth be told, I do not like Thierry, who would? Didier is fine, that Fox is an ass and the captain… Well, you know him. What do you need?’ He asked, resolutely strangling his screaming conscience, as I had when I started to lie to him.

I nodded, seemingly happy by his decision
. ‘Keep close to Vivien, to look after her, of course. If she speaks of Thierry and the things those cutthroats do, tell us.’

He was fully committed, for he adopted a mischievous look on his face. ‘What if I told them a fat, juicy lie about some potential bounty out there? They would go…’

‘They would suspect, love,’ I said, sadly. ‘And could you truly lie like that? They know you as a good man.’

He thought about it and shook his head. ‘No, I could not lie. But I will keep my ears open.’

In the end, he was patient, so was I and we would exchange smiles when we passed, and once, I saw Vivien hold his hand gently. We had to wait.

During the coming weeks, I became quite a good looter. Laroche would reluctantly take me with him, afraid of Thierry’s
shifty gang, but he employed Charles and Skins to guard and help us. Breadcrumbs and Marcel would make sure we got to act out our criminal plots to our hearts fill, and this might shock you, Marie, for we were bandits in uniforms, few of the many. If we had not worked for the Republic, as soldiers, we would have been guillotined or hung as terrible common thieves, but we were soldiers, guarded by our own laws and the poor Italians would suffer and be unable to help it. Of course, they killed Frenchmen caught in the act, but as a rule, very few were caught by the locals. Soon, Laroche saw I was a horrible thief with a poor understanding of value of an animal or wine, but I was an excellent actor and many of a peasant would listen to my tears, believe my broken Italian and wonder at some sordid tale, while the men took to the covered cellars and hidden sheds, and came off with their fine booty. It was often wine, spirits, chickens, delicious mutton and savory pork, and we ate well. Sometimes, we would rob an official, or a private contractor supplying the army, and once, Marie, I held a musket on a driver, while Laroche and Skins, disguised as local robbers, stopped a coach of a French official collecting taxes. He had a state priest with him, and from him I got clean, clear papers, an inkwell and I practiced my near forgotten writing with a quill discarded by an unwilling goose we took from a nearby manor.