Reign of Fear: Story of French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars (Cantiniére Tales) by Alaric Longward
Authors: Alaric Longward
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and now he has her, and my baby siblings prisoners there in our room, our very home. He is drunk beyond reason, and he will hurt them, I’m sure.’
They eyed me uncertainly. ‘Who are you child?’ Danton asked after a while, leaning over me. His brutal face scared me, but he smiled to put me at ease. He did not succeed, for he looked like one of the leering gorgons at Notre Dame.
‘Jeanette Baxa, my father was a journeyman to Colbert Baxa.’
Camille’s eyes narrowed. ‘Guild master? I know of him.’
I nodded and clasped onto his hand like an eagle to an unsuspecting hare. He flinched. ‘We need help. No police will come, you know this. I came here to see a soldier, and to get a pistol. But there are no soldiers here.’
Georges Danton smiled, snickered nastily but went silent suddenly, brooding and contemplating the issue. Camille looked uncertain, nodding, gathering courage, patting my hand and I eased my clutch on his. ‘Guild master, aye?’ he asked. ‘Men who print what the king wishes?’ When nervous, Camille was in the habit of tearing at his cravat and he did so now.
I nodded. ‘Colbert and Adam, both who misuse my mother called your kind the rabble, for they are immoral, and get richer while we eat only few mouthfuls of bread, their family.’
Danton narrowed his eyes. ‘Child, we need no inflammatory speeches; we make them. But they raped her? He a rich man?’
I nodded, ashamed at the foiled attempt to rile them up with a sorry tale. But they had asked about money, and Colbert had that, so I changed tact. ‘He has money, they say.’
‘Did he touch you,’ Camille asked me, growling at Georges who had mixed the topic of money into something he saw as a just cause, soiling both men.
I shrugged. ‘Not me, no, but my father left, and my mother, they…’
Camille got up, cursing, his face red. ‘It is time to start doing…’
Georges pulled him down. ‘No reason for us to show our few cards so early. You want to get arrested and molested, eh? You always get like this when you are drunk, and you get drunk too easily. One day it will get you killed.’ He turned to me, and flipped his heavy jacket open. Two pistols were on his belt, simple, brass enforced, and heavy.
‘If I give them to you, will you return them to me? The convent? Where we meet and live?’ Georges asked with suspicion, arching his eyebrows as if to coax the right answer out of me.
I nodded, licking my suddenly dry lips. I held out my hands for the guns to save my family, and he laughed. ‘You will really do this?’
I kept my hands raised towards him. I eyed the tools of death, wondering how they felt. Could I even fire one? Camille gestured at me, in a rage. ‘She needs help. You know this!’ The waitress behind me was mumbling reluctant agreement.
‘What will you pay with, girl?’ he asked and I cursed him in my head.
‘With my gratitude. And eternal admiration,’ I told him and saw his savage face light up with brief satisfaction. I decided it was not enough, and so I reluctantly pulled out the watch. He looked at it in surprise.
‘He does not need a payment…’ Camille started, but Georges took it nonetheless, greed evident on his meaty face and I hoped we would find the money to travel, without the watch, if we survived.
He eyed the fine gilt and silver of the watch, and finally spoke. ‘Very well.’ Camille opened his mouth again to refute him, so did the girl working in the tavern, but Georges silenced them with a furious look, and nodding approvingly, pulled the guns out. ‘Two shots, love. I am defenseless tonight, so I also am taking a risk.’ I said nothing. I kissed his dirty hands, and took the heavy guns, nearly dropping them. He smiled. ‘Cock them. Heavy, no? Yes, that, pull it back. Not now! When you wish to use them. Very hard to do. Perhaps I will do it for you after all. Not sure you have the strength to pull the trigger, but perhaps you don’t have to.’
‘I want to,
They eyed me uncertainly. ‘Who are you child?’ Danton asked after a while, leaning over me. His brutal face scared me, but he smiled to put me at ease. He did not succeed, for he looked like one of the leering gorgons at Notre Dame.
‘Jeanette Baxa, my father was a journeyman to Colbert Baxa.’
Camille’s eyes narrowed. ‘Guild master? I know of him.’
I nodded and clasped onto his hand like an eagle to an unsuspecting hare. He flinched. ‘We need help. No police will come, you know this. I came here to see a soldier, and to get a pistol. But there are no soldiers here.’
Georges Danton smiled, snickered nastily but went silent suddenly, brooding and contemplating the issue. Camille looked uncertain, nodding, gathering courage, patting my hand and I eased my clutch on his. ‘Guild master, aye?’ he asked. ‘Men who print what the king wishes?’ When nervous, Camille was in the habit of tearing at his cravat and he did so now.
I nodded. ‘Colbert and Adam, both who misuse my mother called your kind the rabble, for they are immoral, and get richer while we eat only few mouthfuls of bread, their family.’
Danton narrowed his eyes. ‘Child, we need no inflammatory speeches; we make them. But they raped her? He a rich man?’
I nodded, ashamed at the foiled attempt to rile them up with a sorry tale. But they had asked about money, and Colbert had that, so I changed tact. ‘He has money, they say.’
‘Did he touch you,’ Camille asked me, growling at Georges who had mixed the topic of money into something he saw as a just cause, soiling both men.
I shrugged. ‘Not me, no, but my father left, and my mother, they…’
Camille got up, cursing, his face red. ‘It is time to start doing…’
Georges pulled him down. ‘No reason for us to show our few cards so early. You want to get arrested and molested, eh? You always get like this when you are drunk, and you get drunk too easily. One day it will get you killed.’ He turned to me, and flipped his heavy jacket open. Two pistols were on his belt, simple, brass enforced, and heavy.
‘If I give them to you, will you return them to me? The convent? Where we meet and live?’ Georges asked with suspicion, arching his eyebrows as if to coax the right answer out of me.
I nodded, licking my suddenly dry lips. I held out my hands for the guns to save my family, and he laughed. ‘You will really do this?’
I kept my hands raised towards him. I eyed the tools of death, wondering how they felt. Could I even fire one? Camille gestured at me, in a rage. ‘She needs help. You know this!’ The waitress behind me was mumbling reluctant agreement.
‘What will you pay with, girl?’ he asked and I cursed him in my head.
‘With my gratitude. And eternal admiration,’ I told him and saw his savage face light up with brief satisfaction. I decided it was not enough, and so I reluctantly pulled out the watch. He looked at it in surprise.
‘He does not need a payment…’ Camille started, but Georges took it nonetheless, greed evident on his meaty face and I hoped we would find the money to travel, without the watch, if we survived.
He eyed the fine gilt and silver of the watch, and finally spoke. ‘Very well.’ Camille opened his mouth again to refute him, so did the girl working in the tavern, but Georges silenced them with a furious look, and nodding approvingly, pulled the guns out. ‘Two shots, love. I am defenseless tonight, so I also am taking a risk.’ I said nothing. I kissed his dirty hands, and took the heavy guns, nearly dropping them. He smiled. ‘Cock them. Heavy, no? Yes, that, pull it back. Not now! When you wish to use them. Very hard to do. Perhaps I will do it for you after all. Not sure you have the strength to pull the trigger, but perhaps you don’t have to.’
‘I want to,
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