Chapter 38: One Death Avenged
Marius was about to make a withering retort to Grantaire, when Courfeyrac rushed into the Corinthe, panting.
"Where is Enjolras?" He asked them.
"No idea." Said Julien. "Why, what's happened?"
"I was with a party of insurgents just now, and while we were scouting out the alleyway of the Rue de la Chanvrerie we found a group of civilians hiding in one of the old buildings. They claimed that they're weren't spies, but a man of my company, a tall fellow named Le Cabuc, he pulled out this knife and..." His face turned fearful. "There's at least twenty others gathering around the body as we speak. If Enjolras doesn't sort this out quick, he's going to have a full-scale mutiny on his hands."
Marius, Grantaire and Julien jumped out of their seats and left the Corinthe with Courfeyrac. It took them only a few minutes to find Enjolras, and Courfeyrac led them to the alleyway he'd described. Just as he'd said, there was a large gathering of people around a truly sinister scene. A trio of civilians were crouching on the ground, their faces terrified, while four revolutionaries halfheartedly pointed their rifles at them. There was a body as well, and a tall man in a black coat and hat knelt beside it, evidently rifling through its pockets.
"Stop!" Enjolras commanded.
The man looked up.
"Are you Le Cabuc?" Enjolras asked the man coldly.
He smiled, showing his yellowed teeth. "Aye. What of my name?"
"Why have you killed this man, and lootting his corpse as well?"
Le Cabuc bowed. "Making this rebellion a bit more profitable, monsieur."
Enjolras was not amused. "We may be fighting against the government, but that does not mean we have to object to their morals. We were certainly don't rob the bodies of the fallen. I will tell you once more to stop this, or else."
Le Cabuc sneered. "I don't think I will."
His face an impassive mask, Enjolras brought out his pistol. "So be it." He pointed it at Le Cabuc.
"No!" A voice cried out.
Every assembled head turned to look at a ashen-faced young boy, who Marius recognized as Christian Daaè. He went to stand in front of Enjolras. "Let me."
The blonde revolutionary looked surprised at this request. "Why?"
Christian pointed a finger accusingly at Le Cabuc. "I have a score to settle with this man. He's much more dangerous than you think, Monsieur Enjolras. I want to be the one to take care of him."
Hesitant, but still willing, Enjolras handed his pistol over to Christian. "Do what you have to do. The man belongs to you." At his command, Le Cabuc's hands were bound, and Christian led him in a sub-route of the alley.
Éponine shoved Claquesous against the wall, not bothering to undo his bonds. "Do you know who I am?" She demanded.
"What's one bourgeois rat from another?" Claquesous hissed at her.
She threw off her cap and brought her face closer to his. He smelled horrible, like raw sewage. "Alright. How about now, Claquesous?"
The criminal's eyes dilated, and he let out a cold burst of laughter. It died out as quickly as it had come, and he spat at her feet. "Putain."
"Shut up." Said Éponine. "What are you doing here? I hardly took you for a freedom fighter."
"Things have changed since Chapard got convicted. We hardly realized how indespensable that little prig was to our operations until he was a thousand miles away, serving time in Toulon. Babet, Gueulemer and I got in here through the sewers that connect Pantin to the Rue de la Chanvrerie. They're still down there, waiting for me to turn up with some loot. Clearly, that won't be happening."
"I'm not going to kill you, Claquesous, if you answer this for me; did you kill Alexandre?"
"How in God's name am I supposed to know who that is, 'Ponine? I've gutted quite a lot of trouts in my day."
"His full name was Alexandre Cambriol, a member of Les Frères Souriant. He was a criminal, like you, but where you have darkness in your heart he had true nobility. He died on February 17, 1832; brutally murdered in prison by his own gang-members. I have no need to list their names to you. Now; was it you who killed him?"
Claquesous nodded with understanding. "Oh, now I see who you mean. That mangy cur who saved your life at Rue Plumet; biggest mistake he ever made. Because of him, you killed Montparnasse, and we ended up getting arrested."
"I didn't kill Montparnasse." Éponine said fiercely. "Although if the gun had been in my hands and not Marius's, I think I gladly would have. But you didn't answer me straight. Did you kill him yourself, or was it another? Chapard, maybe, or Gueulemer? I need to know."
"Aye, it was me." Claquesous said, his voice low. "Blood for blood, 'Ponine, that's all I cared about. And you know what? You've only got yourself to blame."
She punched him, and his head thumped against the stone wall.
He laughed wickedly. "Oh, by God, that was the easiest punch ever deserved. Is that all you got, lass? Or did you pick up other tricks in trying to keep Montparnasse off of you? Though I doubt you always resisted him."
She punched him again.
"You think you're the last honorable person in Pantin, Éponine." Claquesous told her vehemently. "And look at you now; a warrior fighting for the good of the abased French people. It's a welcome change from a whore and a thief, I'll admit. But you'll never fit in. Tell me; which one of those fine lads is the one whose eye you've been trying to catch? Was it the blonde, with a heart made of marble? Or the curly-haired one, who looked like he was half-drunk? I'll wager it was the pretty boy with dark hair. He looks like he could get you into his bed quite easily."
A third punch.
"You try to tell yourself you're not like us." Claquesous muttered, his voice weakening. He already had an ugly red bruise around his nose and under his eye. "Not like men like me. Much more like your new hero, Cambriol. You're in shambles over his death, and you're here knocking the lights out of me to get revenge. I may not be able to stop you, Éponine, but I don't care. You are a liar and a killer, descending into a whole new world of liars and killers. Paris is just as dangerous than Pantin, I assure you. If there's a God above, He'll judge you for what you do this day."
Éponine raised the gun to below Claquesous' chin. "There is no God above for you, Claquesous. When you die, only hell below will reach out to grab you and drag you down to the deepest circle you deserve. Say hello to my father for me, if you ever run into him."
His eyes widened in fear and hatred. "You go to hell, you wretched little-"
"My name is Éponine Thenardier. Be sure to tell the Devil that when he asks who killed you."
She cocked the hammer.
"For Alexandre." She said quietly.
The gun-shot that followed could be heard at every end of the barricade.
A few minutes later, Marius was standing on the barricade with Enjolras when they saw Christian passing. He no longer had Enjolras's pistol with him, and he nodded in their direction as he went,
Enjolras returned the nod. "Who is that boy?" He asked Marius.
"Christian Daaè." Said Marius. "I met him earlier."
Enjolras considered this. "And you could hazard no guess as to the grudge he bore this man, Le Cabuc?"
"No," Marius replied. "Why, what are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that there's more to our young Monsieur Daaè than meets the eye." Enjolras said ponderously.