Toulonacy 10

Since I had landed in 18th-- (or 19th?) century France via the lightning express, chances were good I would have to make my exit in similar fashion. It doesn't always work that way, but at least it was something to hope for. My first excursion across time lasted a week, but I left via the same bridge that brought me. However, the details would have to take care of themselves. I had a more pressing problem at the moment.

I was down the stairs and part way down a hall before I heard anyone. Voices-- and one of them was Javert!

Thank God for alcoves, dank and dusty as they may be-- I darted into one under some stairs and crouched in the dark. The Captain and three men turned a corner and were coming down the hall in my direction. And I had to sneeze!

"I want both of them brought to the administration office." the commander barked. "The wounds are superficial, and as soon as Laroche is done with them, I want them delivered, do you understand?"

"Yessir."

I held my nose and thought of cows-- it really does keep me from sneezing.

"Carrere, you will provide their records. And I will speak to the guards as well, see to it immediately. They let things go too far--- I will not stand for such careless disregard among my men---"

Off they marched, passing me hardly a few feet away. Whatever had called Javert away from our discussion was now his focus. They continued to another corridor, and were gone. I couldn't tell if the Captain went back to his rooms, or directly to 'administration' to deal with his problems. Either way, I was getting nowhere in hiding.

Out again-- and one healthy sneeze later, I was making my way down passages away from the barracks and offices. I passed a few non-descript civilian personnel who hardly glanced at me-- but knew it was probably a good idea to find some means of disguise, anyway. And that came as I neared a rear courtyard.

Fresh air! Or nearly.

There were carts and wagons-- some drawn by animals, some by people, filling the yard, and civilians-- farmers maybe?-- and soldiers with muskets walking around. "I must be near the kitchens," I figured-- supplies coming in, getting unloaded, carried to store rooms-- There was a gate on the far side of the yard, with 2 or 3 guards opening and closing it as required. Perfect! All I had to do is get on one of those wagons..

Near the open archway where I stood there was an anteroom-- and through that I saw some kind of work room. That didn't matter-- the anteroom had several coats and smocks on pegs, with a couple of hats. Perfect again! I tried to find the least offense-smelling smock-- as big as a tent, it turned out-- and threw it on. I plopped a hat on my head and shuffled into the yard. Almost home free!!

"You!"

I froze and winced. A solder was calling to me.

"Help unload this, boy!"

Close one!

I nodded, and carried a few dusty sacks from a cart to a hallway.

"Go on, get this cart out of here!"

The moment the last sack was unloaded, a soldier demanded the driver move on.

"Here goes nothing." I sniffed and hopped up on the back of the empty wagon. I slouched like a sack of meal, my legs dangling over the edge, as the old driver--- oblivious to me--- headed his ox for the gate. I held my breath as we creaked along-- and not just because of the air.

The gate was opened, and we bumped along through the mud and ruts. Almost there.

Then-- freedom!! The soldiers closed the gate behind us and I could not resist a salute.

There was the prison in its full and horrible glory, slowly getting smaller as we creaked and rattled along. And I had escaped!! I felt giddy-- like I pulled a fast one or something-- well, I guess I had! Too bad I didnt leave on better terms.....

Naturally, I started to think of what might be happening up in those walls. When Javert would get back to his quarters and find no key. He might wonder if he took it, or lost it-- and if he would call to me and what he'd think when I didn't reply.

"Mademoiselle, you act like a child. You shall have to explain yourself sooner or later."

"It would be a lot later than you think, Javert." Wasn't there something in that book of Hugo's? Didn't this guy hunt somebody for years? -- Stop thinking about that!!-- I was pretty sure it was a convict, not some lunatic woman.. .. What, I saw the movie maybe once, as a kid? Geez! I always worried about doing something by mistake that would change the course of history--- now I was thinking that I might have altered a work of fiction!

"Get a grip", I told myself. "You won't be around long enough to see the look on his face...."

"Break it down!" I could almost hear him giving the order. Or would he call a locksmith? And then, after a careful search, turning up the key and no me--- and something told me he wouldn't just give up, simply as a matter of principle. It was bound to gall him! An insult-- a challenge to his authority-- a slur against that manly pride of his. Okay, I started to feel bad--- but not enough to go back and patch things up. He'd have to live with the indignity-- after all, what could he do?

He could call out the guards. Have the prison searched. Question people. Hell, I was thinking too much! There was no way they could figure out how I got out of there--- they didn't count the people who came in with each cart, did they?

"48 in today, sir, with supplies. 25 carts, with drivers and helpers. And a count of....25 carts out and....49 people??

Heads would roll.

I rode in the wagon to the top of a hill, and jumped out as we hit a bump, so the driver would be none the wiser. I think I heard him snoring, anyway, I lost my footing, dropped and rolled into the grass.

I stayed there awhile, looking at the stony silhouette of Toulon prison in the distance, smiling and thinking of Captain Javert.