Reign of Fear: Story of French Revolution and Napoleonic Wars (Cantiniére Tales) (39 page)

Then, we
had no more time for sorrow and indecision, for we went to war. It was to be the first terrible set-piece battle I saw, and I cannot remember ever being so horribly scared and utterly confused as I was that day, though it was in truth but a light affair, nothing like the great butchery-battles of the wars I took part later. The Austrians were deployed on a shallow hill, their flanks secured by mountains and higher hills. There were but eight thousand of them, but as we marched closer, they looked splendid in brilliant white, deep green and arrogant red, and we saw stubby cannon pointed our way.

‘We will have wounded,’ Marcel said
, eyeing the enemy from a field where the light infantry demi-brigades was marching forward before the whole army. ‘You have to help get them to safety.’

‘You did not mention this when you proposed,’ Henriet
te said with nervous humor. The columns behind us were bristling with bayonets, the ranks approaching the Austrian enemy, a stubborn enemy not about to fall back easily. Some lonely cannons were firing, gauging the range. The colors of the demi-brigades were bright in the sun and drums rapped as sharp commands were echoing behind us with the regular infantry and soon amidst our light brigades. Enemy bristled and rippled, their columns moving to fine rows of determined men, their cavalry, dragoons were high in their saddles in the middle as the Austrian ranks. Suddenly some hundred enemies were running downhill towards us, in a haphazard fashion.

‘Jägers,’ Marcel said
nervously. ‘Their hunters, much like we are, but few, too few.’ There looked like flowers as they settled downhill from the fabulous columns and lines of the enemy.

We halted at the orders of the general, apparently wai
ting for laggard units and the jägers started to fire at us. The men pretended not to notice as balls whipped past us, some finding victims. I saw a sergeant of one light brigade fall on his face and the men were casually conversing as they dragged the still corpse back.

‘Why do we not charge?’ I asked Marcel, my nerves already wrecked. ‘They just shoot at us!’

He huffed. ‘We go soon enough. Just wait Jeanette. I…’ A ball went past and sunk to a man of the company, who fell, screaming in pain. ‘Take him back!’ Marcel yelled and they did. ‘We go when we are ready. Now, serve the men drinks.’ I nodded and Henriette and I fetched our tonnelets and tin mugs and started to circulate the men, though it was terrifying to look at the deadly Austrian jägers calmly aiming and firing. It felt as if every one of them was aiming at you and I cursed my civilian gear, making me look different from the masses of soldiers.

The army waited
for orders under fire, drums rapped every now and then and we were serving the men drinks as fast as we could. They were grateful, happy and it made me happy as well. Some were in fact drunk already. Most were smiling constantly, bravely, though all were scared, and so were we. I understood we would lose family that day. The men around us were our brothers.

Then, a aide-de-camp rode up, waved his hat, drums rapped, Henri raised his sword, yelling incoherently
and Henriette and I were left there, as the men began to move towards the enemy, spreading out in twos. ‘Love!’ Marcel yelled to Henriette as he ran, and blew a kiss.

The French rag-tag army used hundreds and hundreds of skirmishers to snipe at the wonderfully
brave Austrian skirmishers, and then, very soon, we saw the enemy jägers run away, leaving corpses behind, for the French tactics of skirmishing were overpowering. I saw some men fall on our side, but very few. Then the French were pushing up the hill, carefully aiming and firing in pairs at the massive lines and fine columns under the Austrian general Wallis. The white beast looked down at the French skirmishers advancing, the enemy officers on their horses giving encouragements to their men with brave voices. Behind us, we saw thousand fusiliers and grenadiers start to move up. We stood there, forgotten and saw how Austrians were falling in the enemy ranks, leaving gaps that were quickly filled, some horses were running free, the officers gone.

I
n the middle and right, enemy cannons roared, balls rolled across our marching units behind us and some hit the light infantry up the hill and few of our rag tag men fell. ‘Come, there are some wounded,’ Henriette said, white-faced from fear and I nodded, shaking with fear as well. We rode the wagon a bit up the hill, where the most timid men were firing at the enemy. Balls whistled past, a cannonball furrowed wet grass crazily nearby. Up hill, a fog of sorts was covering the company, behind us; the grenadiers were marching in order, ready to exploit the enemy weaknesses, if there were any. Then, apparently, the Austrians got tired of the pesky skirmishers, for a distant drum rapped, orders were heard, and a huge volley was fired at the scattered targets below them. Dozen spent bullets passed us, one whipped through the tonnelet on my back; another splintered the wagon’s side. Men were moaning, and we saw many staggering downhill, but mostly, the skirmishers stayed stubbornly on the attack. We moved to the haze to find wounded men. There were many. Some were dead, and Henriette took their valuables when nobody could see, shrugging apologetically at me. ‘Take only things none recognize.’

‘Mother,’ I chided her, wondering how pragmatic she had become, as we carried first men down to the wagon. The French grenadiers passed us now, their officers screaming brave words, flags pale in the smoke.
Some begged for drink, but we had very little left. Cannons concentrated their fire at them, moving down men near us, leaving four dead and two with no legs right near the wagon, and the horses tried to take off in fear, and we had to struggle to stop them from running over the wounded.

A battle, Marie, is a terrible thing, for you do not understand what i
s going on. Things can be going extremely well, or horribly badly, and often the survivor is not much better off than the beaten. Confusion if rife, sometimes you lose a part of the battle, sustain terrible losses even if the overall battle is won. The determined men roared around us, now struggling uphill. Volleys were fired, the ranks rippled painfully as men fell. We were red from blood and saw Vivien at the same duty. She glanced at us briefly and nodded. We were not enemies on that field, not that day. I remember giving wine to two shivering men who went forward with others, having been too scared earlier. Then, a cannonball whipped them in half. I saw enemy cavalry riding down through the haze, and I cried and screamed as they were going to overcome some of the battalions on the hill, but the cavalry did not charge after all, but stayed off our friends. Henriette and I watched as terrifying hail of canister shot fired by two cannon moved down half of a brave grenadier company, the captain with it, dead under his screaming horse. A man lost his head near us, as we fetched a body of a gagging, bleeding lieutenant, and Henriette had to stop me from running away. She could not stop me from pissing myself for the cannonade did that even to the heartiest of men. In the end, the men went up that hill four painful times. By the end, we had won, and Henriette and I watched the companies filter downhill, as fresher men took up the chase. After that battle, Marie, we were red from the blood of our friends, brave as they were, doing our duty, a duty we were suddenly proud of.

Later, I found Didier under a pile of men.

I had intended to loot a dead jäger, but I spotted my enemy lying under some French dead. His brow was slashed and there was a hole in his shoulder, though it did not look very serious. I crouched next to him, bloody and fey, and placed a pistol on his forehead, and his eyes grew wide as he regarded first the pistol, then the face behind it. None would see, it was chaos, smoke and haze was still thick in the air and these things happened, and God had different rules for us, after all. ‘Did you hang him?’ I asked him matter-of-factly.

He thought about putting up a desperate fight. Hate smoldered in his eyes, his hands opened and closed, but he was too weak, and he looked away and spoke harshly. ‘I beat him, that much I did, and held him as Fox and Thierry hanged him. Bad luck for him, but one should not stray far from his bloody friends if one is helping enemies of the Republic.’ I hardened myself, he saw
this and prepared, his eyes twitching. I saw the fear in his face, but that day, after a terrible battle, I could not kill a man. I was tired of his Republic, and the simmering hate the revolution had light in the hearts of men, but too many had died that day. I shrugged, deciding there would be another day, and dragged him off the pile. He cried from pain, but I did not care as I coaxed hit to sit.

‘Some other day, then,’ I told him and turned away.

He had a look of bewilderment on his face. ‘Why did you betray the Republic?’ he asked, braving his safety and life, for I still held a pistol. ‘Why did you take money from the good citizens of France, followed the corrupt Danton?‘

I laughed at him
in derision, imagining Gilbert’s face smiling happily as he coaxed fools like this one to foul deeds for causes he did not believe in. ‘Gilbert, the Revenant is a piece of shit, Didier. He is the one growing fat on lies, not us. I was there, Didier, from the beginning. I served Georges Danton, for a while, and no matter who betrayed what, he made the Republic that you so glorify and try to defend. He schemed, plotted and got rid of most the bastards standing in its way, and perhaps he did grow wealthy from his toils, but as for mother and I, we did not see a sou. If you believe the Revenant, then you are a fool. We sat in the Temple for years, hidden from my cousin, prisoners to Danton. He made the Republic and here you think we profited from it. Fool. Your Revenant is not the deadly enemy of crown you think, but a cowardly boy who has nothing left but lies, but he is doing well when idiotic bastards heed his words.’ His eyes were hard as coals, fanatic and suspicious, but he waved me away and I went, willingly. I hated men and their inability to see the truth from simple lies. A man is never willing to admit a mistake, never willing to change his heart, unless great sorrow forces them to do so.

After the enemy had scampered off, the
uncaring dead buried and the unhappy wounded moved to the so-called hospitals to die of disease, I saw Napoleon riding around with his aide-de-camps and the commander André Masséna. He looked chloric, no different from a poor merchant or seasick sailor. That day, he did not look the fabulous god of war he was to become, had little in a way of commanding air, his posture badly sloughing, and clothes simple, save for the jacket with the general’s braids, but he had a curious nervous energy about him, his eyes were keen and hungry as his hand flashed on map at some distant places, his voice was thin with anticipation of glory. He was like a very exited child who wanted to get his way. Marcel was collecting the company together, eyeing the new general. ‘That one is out to make a name for him.’

‘Good,’ I said, ashamed at my tears during the battle, and regretting I had not shot Didier. ‘We need men like that.’

‘Yes,’ Marcel said nonchalantly, ‘but he needs a lot of well-used tools to get his glory, and we are the tools he will use until only bones remain. We will lose many men if he succeeds, but hopefully it will be worth it, and some of the better ones survive him.’ Marcel was in a fatalistic mood, as the company had lost seven men dead, ten wounded.

‘You should take care, Marcel, so that mother does not become a widow again.’

‘I already spoke to her about this, after the battle,’ he said, sadly. ‘It cannot be helped, dear, in this profession. I am really proud of you two, by the way, though I knew you would fit in. I am sorry, that this is no more special than it is. Grimy, dangerous, not provoking many happy memories, if one reminisces about all this at old age.’

I nodded at him, still unsure if I
fully trusted him, but I tried. ‘You are wrong. I will never forget this, and there are plenty of good memories, if we live through it. It is home, Marcel.’

‘It is that, love,’ he mumbled.

After the battle, Masséna stopped the advance, as minister Carnot in Paris still forbid further risks being taken, and we reluctantly retreated to the vicinity of Savona and lingered there for two years of relative peace.

CHAPTER 16

During that time, we recovered from war. The companies were somewhat reinforced, though not by as many recruits as we needed. Many unhappy men deserted, you see, found foreign wives and forgot about soldiering, as the nation no longer seemed to be in danger.

True to his word,
some months after we settled in around Savona, Marcel asked for permission for us to go look for Julie and Jean, but Henri refused. While mother was arguing with confused Marcel, I stormed to Henri’s barracks, for we had such things now, in a semi permanent camp. The guard took one look at me, and stepped aside, grinning like a damned imp as he opened the door for me.

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, h
is 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 man 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.’

‘Wh
at 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.