Chapter 24

The Times to Come

1795

The months following Robespierre's downfall did not bring the peace that Leona and Gaspar had hoped for. A period known as the "White Terror" ensued, where many people reacted to the fall of Robespierre by hunting the remaining members of the Jacobins. Real and suspected supporters and members were attacked and murdered in the streets, often without consequence. Show trials were often held for those who made it to court, their fates already decided. Several of the Jacobins were former assassins under the control of the Apple, and with Robespierre dead, the spell upon them was broken. As the Grandmaster, Leona was able to reconcile with the few members who had survived the Reign of Terror. The assassins then abandoned the Les Neuf Sœurs lodge, preferring the Chateau-du-Fontaine as their headquarters; far enough away from the city, but a close enough ride should there be anything that the assassins needed to attend to.

The hunt for the Apple continued, but not much turned up about it. Whatever secrets Augustin had, they died with him. The assassins mainly concerned themselves with keeping the peace amongst the city during the White Terror. Well, most of them did, anyway.

March 15th

"I found him," said Gaspar, excitedly. Leona was sitting at her desk in the office area of the chateau.

"Found him…" said Leona. "Found who?"

"Collot d'Herbois! He and Vieuzac and Billaud-Varenne have been exiled to Cayenne, Guiana. If we leave right now, we could catch them on the road, or on the seas if need be."

"Well, ok…" said Leona tentatively.

"So, we are going after them, right?"

"Do… do you think that's wise?"

"Of course! They followed in Robespierre's steps, who knows what they will plan to do given time?"

"But you were there with me; Billaud-Varenne knew of Robespierre's insanity. He had drifted so far from his vision that his own betrayed them. I don't believe them to be a threat anymore."

"But Leona, I really think that we should go after him. Them." Leona could detect the agitation in his voice.

"Gaspar, where is this coming from?"

"It's not coming from anywhere; they just need to be stopped."

"They aren't doing anything. If they return to France and break their exile, we will deal with them then."

"That's not good enough!" yelled Gaspar, slamming his fist down on the desk. He was breathing heavily.

"Gaspar, what you are proposing is murder, and…"

"Oh, now you lecture me on murder," he interrupted. "As if everything we've accomplished would be possible without murder."

"That's not the way we work, Gaspar."

"So you get to decide how we work now? You get your revenge with Robespierre and then you deny any further peace for the rest of us? We're assassins, Leona, we kill people. The scum may have found their scruples, but that doesn't excuse what he and the Committee have done."

"Gaspar, quit hiding this behind your duties as an assassin and talk to me plainly." Gaspar looked at her indignantly. "Tell me the truth; is this still about your wife?"

"Of course it is," said Gaspar.

"Gaspar… I am in no position to lecture anyone, but that was almost ten years ago. Has time not soothed your anger? Isn't it time to put this behind you?"

"No, and it won't be satisfied until the enfoiré sees justice."

"What you propose is vengeance, not justice."

"What's wrong with combining the two?!" he shouted. There was a very loud silence that followed Gaspar's words.

"Gaspar… what about us?"

"W… what… w…" Gaspar stammered. "You did not just say that. What about us?"

"Did that night mean nothing to you?" Gaspar smiled and shook his head.

"Of course it did, Leona." His tone was softer now. "But you were the one who told me that when this was all over, we would find out where we wanted to go. It's been over for a while now, and right now, I want to go to Cayenne. And… I would like it very much if you came with me."

"Gaspar I… cannot go. There is still so much to be done in the city…"

"And now it is you who hides behind your duties. Fine." Gaspar calmed himself and straightened his robes. He pulled his key from his pocket and threw it on the desk. It clanged against the wood like a stricken bell ringing in the night. "I leave this place to you, Leona, but never forget from whom it came." he finished, and walked away. He turned before leaving. His eyes were softer than before. "I'll miss you," he said, and then left the chateau. After she heard the doors shut, Leona sat back in her chair and began to cry.

October 5th

5:00 a.m.

Leona was awakened by the growing thunderstorm outside. She knew not what time it was, but decided to take a walk around the chateau in the waning moonlight. That was the first odd thing that she noticed.

'Moonlight? But…' Leona looked out of a window she was passing by. No clouds and no rain streaked the skies; only moonlight shone through them. 'They weren't supposed to be here yet,' she thought, running back to her room to get dressed.

The Royalist army had grown quite large since it set out with a few thousand members from the West coast of France. Consisting mostly of anti-republicans and Catholic sympathizers, they were backed by foreign aid, and now marched on the Le Peletier section of Paris, a little north of the Notre Dame Cathedral. The National Convention ordered General Jacques-François Menou to defend the capital, but was severely outnumbered with 5,000 Revolutionary troops against the Royalist's 30,000. Generals Despierres and Verdière were called to assist him, but failed to advance into the coming line of invaders when asked to do so. Menou advanced tentatively to parlay, but the Royalist forces saw this as a weakness of the National Convention. Menou was quickly replaced due to his error, and Paul Barras was called in to take over defense of the Convention. This is the scene that Leona was racing towards.

6:00 a.m.

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon as Leona rode her horse into the city.

'How can they already be here?' she thought. 'They were three days out at last report!' The cannon fire had ceased, but she raced through the streets anyway. 'And who was able to bring cannons it to the city?' She climbed to the roofs and ran the rest of the way to the battle scene. When she got to the Le Peletier section, she saw that most of the troops had moved on, but stunningly, the Revolutionary forces stood victorious. She waited a bit longer, and then descended to the ground. Most everyone was dead, torn to shreds by cannon fire. She ducked around a corner when she saw a man in full military regalia stooping before an injured soldier. Leona saw a dim flash of light occur between the two men, and then the man in the military coat patted the soldier, mounted his nearby horse, and rode into the swallowing mass of the city. Leona ran up to the injured soldier and looked him up and down, his most grievous injury being his missing left leg. From his outfit, what was left of it, she could tell he was a Royalist.

"What happened here?" she asked.

"We were trying to march on the Convention, but got caught in the narrows," he replied, coughing up blood. He seemed to be in good spirits, all things considered. "Ordered for his damn 'whiff of grapeshot', can't believe it." Leona looked down at his missing leg again.

"Are you in pain? I might have…" she began to look around in her robes, but the man stopped her.

"No, no pain. The fine gentleman gave me some of his light for the pain." Leona was confused with his words.

"He… made your pain lighter?" she asked.

"No, he had a tiny ball of light… and it just made my pain go away," he said with a fading voice.

"Right," said Leona, understanding. "And who was this man?" The wounded soldier smiled and said;

"General Bonaparte," and then he slumped over and died.

"Repose in paix," she said, closing the man's eyes. "Bonaparte. Bonaparte," she repeated to herself, all the way back to the chateau.