July 19
I'm writing this entry with a heavy, angry heart, Diary. A woman shouldn't be deprived of her loving husband on her wedding night. She shouldn't have to sit and cry while her young cher lies suffering from a mortal wound, feverish and pained. She shouldn't have to choose between the love of her own family and the romance of a lifetime, between her beau and her brother, between a vow to honor and obey and the honor of her Guild. I've had to do all of these things and more since the moment I answered "I do" to the question "Bella Donna Marie Antoinette, you take dis man, Remy Andre Francois Luc St. Jean de Baptiste, to you'self to be his lawful wedded wife, haaaanh?" I should have known things would go wrong with Jean-Luc's crazy cousin, Father Francis De La Salle, performing the ceremony, his tongue just as purple with the juice of the vine as a morning glory at sunrise. 'Tween him slurring the sacred words and the specter of my insane brother hanging over the proceedings, Remy and I didn't have a chance in the hot place of getting through our wedding day in one piece. We spent what should have been our lusty, romantic honeymoon nursing the hole in his chest left by Julien's hateful arrow. If I'd known then about the trials which awaited us, I would have settled for the arrow's damage and been glad that it was the worst of it.
Tante Mattie sat and prayed over Remy for hours that night; I really don't know how she managed to stay so focused. Every time he moaned or groaned, she squeezed his hand and encouraged him to do the same to her, as if she could absorb his pain through her touch. Mercifully, after several hours of agony, the lights dimmed behind those burning red eyes and Remy nodded off into unconsciousness. Tantie prayed even more feverishly, rocking in her chair as she caressed Remy's hand in one of her own and her rosary beads in the other. This was painful to watch, and, sensing this, Jean-Luc came for me and forced me to take sleep in an adjoining bedroom. It was the only time I allowed the Thieves to separate me from my husband while in the same house; the next night we would stay together and consumate our marriage.
Yesterday morning, I was awakened by the buzzing of voices which seemed to come from all corners of the rooms on the floor below me. Searching through the luggage I had planned to take to Paris with me, I grabbed my dressing gown and ran downstairs only to be met by the grimaces and suspicious stares of members of the LeBeau clan. Finally, an angry Henri stepped forward to me, holding out a tattered piece of paper before my face. "Them people of yours---they ain't gonna be happy until they got Remy's heart on a platter, uh?!" He pushed the paper into my palm, an icy blue glare punctuating his action. "Pah!" he shouted, throwing his hands into the air, as other members of the family slid past me on their way to the kitchen, their glances just as hateful as that of Remy's brother. Peeling open the note, I recognized the curly lettering as coming from my brother's own antique fountain pen, his words just as twisted and bizarre as the script which conveyed his message. "A duel to the death be thy challenge, foul adopted mongrel of Clan LeBeau, to be fought at the dawning of the sun of the morn, July 19, for the honor of the clan and the Guild Of Thieves. Prepare to meet a death best suited the scion of the gutters. Signed, Julien Boudreaux."
There would be no peace for either Remy or myself that day. Tantie continued begging God for healing and guidance as she ministered Remy's soul and wound at the same time. Meanwhile, Jean-Luc, Henri and several of the senior Guild brothers fussed and argued around Remy's bed, with Henri trying to talk his father into allowing him to fight Julien in his little brother's place. As much as Jean-Luc appreciated Henri's zeal and concern, he knew that the Assassins would never accept such a trade. Julien had the Thieves exactly where he wanted them, with Remy weakened and wounded yet forced to try to defend himself against the anger, hate and deadly skill of the prince of the Assassins. Never mind that the Guild brothers, cowards that they are, had no problem with the idea of Julien finishing off what he'd begun; they were more than happy with having someone on the outside getting rid of Remy for them, rather than having to find a way to destroy him themselves. They detest the idea that Remy could possibly grow up to lead them to such a great degree that it wouldn't surprise me if they had taken out a contract with Julien just to rid themselves of him. Now that I write this...it makes more and more sense, that is, if I didn't know that Julien didn't need urging from anyone to attempt to kill Remy. His hate for my love of Remy runs so deep that it swims in his bloodstream. It's what keeps him...alive.
Bandaged and brooding, Remy rose long before dawn this morning, his gaunt, chiseled frame revealed in the silver light of the moon. He hadn't truly slept through the night before, his heart and mind racing each other in fits of worry, hour after hour. Ever considerate, he slid as quietly as possible out of our bed, holding his left arm and its sling tightly against his body as he did. I watched him flinch at the sound of the creaking floorboards, then saw the shudder which took him as he felt the inevitable pain throughout his body that resulted from the reflex shrugging of his wounded shoulder. Poor thing, and all because he didn't want to disturb me. I could have giggled at the sight of his cute little naked backside had it been any other situation, but not this. He was scared and hurting, afraid for his life, worried about our future together and horrified that he'd have to kill my brother or die trying. And me...? I knew that by the end of the day I'd either be a widow mourning her lost love or a sister grieving the death of her brother and an Assassin seeking vengeance for his demise. I didn't wish to be any of the above, but there seemed to be no way out.
Fearing the worst for him because of his injury, I tried to persuade Remy to run---to flee Louisiana and to take me with him---but he knew better. He led me to the bedroom window and motioned to me to cautiously look downstairs at the numerous members of the Guild Of Thieves milling around the kitchen door and the garden gate. "They won't let me leave, chere," Remy sighed, shaking his head, "which is why they made us stay here in Papa's house under lock and key. If I don't uphold the honor of the Guild, they'll kill me where I stand and you along with me, Belle. I can't let that happen. If anything happens to me, Papa and Henri, they'll look after you, darlin'. But here, take these..." In my hand he placed a set of ice cold keys hung on a "University Of Louisiana, Lafayette" keychain which, like Remy's eyes, glowed in the darkness of the room. "It was my surprise, my wedding gift to you, Belle: a pretty little house in the Garden District with roses all over the backyard and a moon gate on the side for luck. When this is all over, we'll go open it up and be happy there raising fat little Cajun babies. We'll have a crawfish boil every Bastille Day for our anniversary, too, and have all the relatives over by the dozens. It'll be our dream home, and it's waiting for us, chere. Now go back to sleep, petite; ain't nothing we can do now but pray, yeah."
In the hour before dawn, my husband was surrounded by the men of the LeBeau clan, with them instructing him on how to handle himself at the site of the duel. Word had been sent to the Assassins that the weapon of choice would be swords, an option which left both duelists relatively equal, given their high level of skill. Of course, Julien had a clear psychological and physical edge, having inflicted the near-mortal wound Remy nursed on his left side. Even worse, I know he was relying on the fact that Remy wouldn't willingly kill his wife's own brother. The cards were stacked against Remy all the way 'round...and he knew it.
I wanted to be at the duel; why, I'm not sure, because I would have been more of a liability than a help to both Julien and Remy. The last thing Remy needed was to be distracted by me, thus giving Julien a bigger edge, and Julien didn't need the sight of me hugging and kissing Remy for luck to spur on his hatred. Jean-Luc refused to let me attend, ordering Henri to drive me to my Gran'pere's home for safekeeping, and Gran'pere agreed to make sure that I didn't leave. I was locked up in my room with Assassins members guarding my bedroom door, the nearby windows and the front and back doors. All I could do is sit and watch the sunrise as someone I loved died.
An hour after the sun rose and lit up the bayou, Cousin Alphonse's pickup truck pulled up to the front of the house like a bat out of Hell. There was a swarm of activity like nothing I've ever seen, with cousins running back and forth from the truck to the house. Eventually, Cousin Jean-Pierre arrived in his delivery van and Gran'pere slowly left the passenger side of it. He was moving like the world rested on his shoulders, and his low-hung head pretty much told me what I didn't want to know. In fact, all of the cousins were dragging, so I knew what had happened. I knew then and there that some how, some way, Remy must have found a way to best Julien and I wasn't sure how to feel about that. For a moment, I was so glad at the thought that Remy might have survived that I was actually smiling; that was until I thought about the possibility of Julien being dead and what turmoil that would cause between the Guilds. No way would the Assassins settle for that as an outcome. I knew they'd be calling for Remy's blood as sure as I'm sitting here. Sometimes I really hate it when I'm right.
By afternoon, all "H" was breaking loose in Bayou Teche, with the various members of the Assassins Guild calling for Remy's head, so I knew from what I was hearing that Remy had survived. Julien wasn't dead, but he was very near it, so I was finally allowed out of my room so that I could go downstairs to see him. Poor Tante Mattie had been enlisted to save Julien, but he was even beyond her curative abilities at that point; she'd recommended that he be taken to the nearest emergency ward, but Gran'pere refused. The trouble with belonging to ancient orders such as the Guilds who still carry on as if it's 1750 is that doctors and nurses and policemen of the modern age tend to ask far too many questions when confronted with wounds inflicted by a dagger made in the 15th Century or ones that were the results of being shot by a 19th Century single shooter or an 18th Century muscat. Gris Gris, Gran'pere's version of a "voodoo priest," said that he might be able to find an elixir to save Julien, but I stopped listening to him somewhere along the way. I was waiting for one of them to say something- --anything---about Remy.
Tante Mattie made an effort to gather some of the family together for a Rosary around mid-afternoon, but the cousins weren't having it; a couple of them even blasphemed about God forsaking us seriously enough for Tantie to threatened to slap them. As they left the drawing room where Julien lay lingering on, I took Tantie aside to ask her what she knew about Remy's condition. We young'uns all think of her as an auntie, but for a number of us she's been the closest thing we've ever had to a mother, none more so than Remy, though. At least Julien and I remember our own mother; she didn't die until I was seven or eight. But Remy never knew either of his parents, or at least he sure doesn't remember them, so Tantie nicely filled that gap, being the loving, caring and nurturing woman that she is. She's tried hard to be as even-handed as humanly possible in her dealings between the Guilds, but everyone knows that her heart belongs to that poor little waif with the blood red eyes.
"Remy took some nasty cuts from Julien's sword," Tantie told me, crossing herself as she did, "but the Holy Mother herself must have been interceding for him, darlin'. It was so hard for him having to fight with that wounded shoulder, but I bandaged it as best as I could first thing this morning and it seemed to hold up. He was bleeding pretty badly for a little while there, but I cared for him until I left to come back here with Julien after the duel. Sure hurt me to see the way the Thieves dragged Remy off, though, when it was all over; liked to wrench his shoulder right out of the socket, the way they was pulling and pushing on him..."
I couldn't imagine what she was talking about. Why would the Thieves treat Remy that way if he...if he won? When I asked her, Tantie stopped to look around us cautiously, checking for prying eyes and wide-open ears. "Your kin, they demanded a life for a life. They told the Thieves that if they didn't hand Remy over to them, they'd declare open warfare on all of the members. The Guild brothers...they voted to surrender Remy to your Grandfather to do with what he wanted; the Assassins wanted to execute him there and then. Only Jean-Luc and Henri stepped forward to save him; Jean- Luc was able to strike a bargain with your Grandfather, seeing as Julien wasn't actually dead. It was agreed that Remy would be held captive by the Thieves; they're gonna prevent that baby from escaping, just so they can hand him over to your kin should Julien...well, you know. Last I heard, they've thrown him in one of them jail cells in the foundation of the old courthouse; ain't nothing but a stone slab for the boy to sit and sleep on and a grating for him to piss in down in that ice cold dungeon. And the way they treated that child; you'd think he'd committed some crime by trying to protect his own life! He didn't call for this duel---Julien did---and Remy did everything he could not to kill your brother, chere. You must believe your old Tantie on that. All he wanted to do was protect himself as best he could, what with his shoulder still smarting from that arrow's wound. You know in your heart that if Remy had just wanted to end the duel and do in Julien, he could have used his powers to save himself. He didn't even use them when his own people were taunting him and all, tying him up and knocking him around and all. I ain't never been more ashamed to know them folks in my life. I got to forgive them because my Savior says I have to, but it's one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do. And if they hurt that child...well, honey, this is the Lord sending me a test of my faith. That's what it is, yeah."
So there it was. Remy was condemned to death, whether he understood it or not, and his own people were going to deliver him. I could just see Gran'pere's glee at finally getting the chance to punish Remy for my friendship with him and for the boy having the gall-darned nerve to think he had a right to fight to save his own life. I talked to Tantie about me going to see Remy, but she advised me against trying, what with all the bad emotions stirring within both Guild camps. She was afraid that the Thieves would attack me if I came anywhere near where they held Remy, and I had to agree that she was right. There's was no way them hoodlums would let me see my husband.
Late this evening, Cousin Alphonse came up to my room to tell me that Gran'pere had met with Jean-Luc LeBeau about Remy's fate and that a decision had been made. He wouldn't tell me just what that was and instead advised me to wait until Tante Mattie came back to tend to what was left of Julien. He was near death and being seen to downstairs still, like I cared. The cousins wanted me to come down and say a few words over him, but I refused. It's Julien who caused all of this misery; he can rot in Hell for all I care, but even the Devil himself wouldn't want that bastard down there. He don't need the competition; Julien would definitely try to take over the place.
When I was finally able to corner Tantie late tonight, the poor ol' dear was worn out, happy to sit down in my rocking chair and put her tired feet up. Her careworn face reflected all of the sorrows of the last few days and she had a hard time holding back tears. I asked her how Remy was doing, but she delayed answering me for as long as she could. It was easy to notice that her eyes wouldn't meet mine; I don't suppose that she could bear it. Eventually, she waved me over to sit beside her; she held my hand for a long time before she could force out her words.
"They are both gone, cherie---both Remy and Julien. Your kinfolk took Julien off somewhere; they wouldn't tell me more than that. The last time I saw him they were pulling a sheet up over his face. And Remy..." Sobbing, she stopped to wipe tears from her eyes with an overused handkerchief while, at the same time, a lump grew so large in my throat that it choked off my breath. "Gran'pere? Did he kill Remy? Tell me!" I know I shouldn't have screamed at her, but I couldn't stand it anymore. Squeezing my hand, she shook her head negatively. "Thanks be to God, no, darlin', but he sure wanted to," she answered, beating her hand against her heart. "But he might as well have cut the heart out of the boy just as soon as what he did agree to. The only thing he'd agree to, short of killing Remy, was to banish him-- -not just from the bayou or New Orleans but from the entire state. The Assassins say that he must leave and never return under pain of death, for him and all of the Thieves. If he ever comes home, it's open warfare on the lot of them. That put it on the Thieves to police Remy, and believe me, they done just that, chere. They give him until dawn to make himself scarce...or else they'd kill him long before the Assassins got to him. Jean- Luc agreed to the demand and told Remy that was the way it was gonna be. I like to die seeing the look on Remy's face when he heard that from his papa's mouth; the poor baby was so hurt and confused. He kept asking after you, sweetheart---asking how you was doing and begging to see you and all. I swear he was more worried for you than for himself, yeah. All he wants to do is see you, Bella Donna, but your kinfolk, they told him that they'd shoot him on sight if he came anywhere near you. The Thieves, they tried to tie him up, to drag him to a pick-up truck to drive off and get rid of him, and that's when...that's when he couldn't take no more, the poor child..."
I was so numb by then that I didn't think that I could take no more, neither. Still, I had to know. "What did he do, Tantie?" I asked, my head in my hands. Her voice was so hesitant that I had to look up at her to make sure that she was still breathing. Tantie looked wild-eyed and frightened and she began wringing her hands like she was seeing a ghost as she recalled the events she had witnessed. "His powers, chere. They went wild. Remy went out of his mind. All the worry, the fear, the humiliation, the pain, being told he couldn't be with you ever again...it was all too much. All of the sudden, everything around us started sparking with that...that glow of his. The ropes around him...they ignited and fell off of him. He just stood there, his face full of rage and his eyes...oh my Lord, Jesus, his eyes. They was like two burning hot coals, like fire was leaping from them. He didn't even have to put his hands on things, like he does; he was blowing things apart with his mind. Trucks blew up just with a look from him, as well as the guns, knives...just everything. Then he just walked away without looking back at anyone. I wanted to go after him, to call him back, but Jean-Luc kept me from going to him; he said that having Remy leave was the only way to keep everyone safe. Them Thieves...they only ever wanted Remy for what they could get out of him and to take advantage of them powers of his, but the minute the boy needed them, they turned their backs on him and abandoned him to the streets again. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, dear; it breaks my heart." With that, she fell silent, preferring to sob into her handkerchief while patting my hand for comfort, rather than to continue to talk about the hole left in her heart by Remy's banishment.
I've been sitting here for hours now as I write while keeping an ear out for sounds outside my window, but I haven't heard a peep out of the dogs or the guards stationed around the grounds. I had to believe that Remy would come for me to take me away with him, but it'll be dawn within a few minutes and there's been no sign of him. If he's not here by now, he'd be out of his mind to try. He's a dead man walking if he's anywhere south of the Louisiana state line, and Tantie said that Henri and Jean-Luc were to see to him getting away because they have to protect the Thieves.
That no good Remy. How could he leave me behind? How could he not even try to come to get me? I'd give my life for him; he should know that after all of these years. I'd run to the ends of the Earth with him and live life on his terms, no matter how bad things got, no matter how bad people out there treat him. I've packed a suitcase and everything, just so I'd be ready to leave with him; I wasn't even gonna take all of my stuff. He's gotten on to the property so many times before; I can't believe that he would let my family's threats keep him away. That never bothered him before. I've got to face it: he's left me...left me to deal with the aftermath of this family feud. Gran'pere is so upset by Julien's demise that he looks to be near death himself, all his talk about an annulment being the only thing keeping him going. If he should die, that would leave me to be the matriarch of the Guild of Assassins. I'm only eighteen, but what kind of life is this? I have responsibilities better suited to an old woman, yet none of the joys the memories of which keep the old going strong. Here I am, a new bride, yet I don't know if my husband is alive or dead. I could be a widow for all I know, but I can't mourn for being angry. What I do know is that I'll never forgive Remy for taking off without me. I could kill him for leaving me here: slice his throat and not think a thing of it. If I ever get hold of him, that's exactly what I'll do, as soon as spit on him. I hope he roams the Earth and never finds peace, a home or friendship; he doesn't deserve it for abandoning those same things he could have had with me.
Damn that thieving, faithless boy. He stole the most priceless item in my world: he stole my heart and ran away with it like a thief in the night. I'm left here holding the broken shards of a love that will never be. He had no faith in our love, so he took my heart and trashed all else. He's gotten away, too, but someday, as God is my witness, I'll make him pay the price all thieves must pay for their deceit. Damn him. Damn him to Hell.
--------DB
I'm writing this entry with a heavy, angry heart, Diary. A woman shouldn't be deprived of her loving husband on her wedding night. She shouldn't have to sit and cry while her young cher lies suffering from a mortal wound, feverish and pained. She shouldn't have to choose between the love of her own family and the romance of a lifetime, between her beau and her brother, between a vow to honor and obey and the honor of her Guild. I've had to do all of these things and more since the moment I answered "I do" to the question "Bella Donna Marie Antoinette, you take dis man, Remy Andre Francois Luc St. Jean de Baptiste, to you'self to be his lawful wedded wife, haaaanh?" I should have known things would go wrong with Jean-Luc's crazy cousin, Father Francis De La Salle, performing the ceremony, his tongue just as purple with the juice of the vine as a morning glory at sunrise. 'Tween him slurring the sacred words and the specter of my insane brother hanging over the proceedings, Remy and I didn't have a chance in the hot place of getting through our wedding day in one piece. We spent what should have been our lusty, romantic honeymoon nursing the hole in his chest left by Julien's hateful arrow. If I'd known then about the trials which awaited us, I would have settled for the arrow's damage and been glad that it was the worst of it.
Tante Mattie sat and prayed over Remy for hours that night; I really don't know how she managed to stay so focused. Every time he moaned or groaned, she squeezed his hand and encouraged him to do the same to her, as if she could absorb his pain through her touch. Mercifully, after several hours of agony, the lights dimmed behind those burning red eyes and Remy nodded off into unconsciousness. Tantie prayed even more feverishly, rocking in her chair as she caressed Remy's hand in one of her own and her rosary beads in the other. This was painful to watch, and, sensing this, Jean-Luc came for me and forced me to take sleep in an adjoining bedroom. It was the only time I allowed the Thieves to separate me from my husband while in the same house; the next night we would stay together and consumate our marriage.
Yesterday morning, I was awakened by the buzzing of voices which seemed to come from all corners of the rooms on the floor below me. Searching through the luggage I had planned to take to Paris with me, I grabbed my dressing gown and ran downstairs only to be met by the grimaces and suspicious stares of members of the LeBeau clan. Finally, an angry Henri stepped forward to me, holding out a tattered piece of paper before my face. "Them people of yours---they ain't gonna be happy until they got Remy's heart on a platter, uh?!" He pushed the paper into my palm, an icy blue glare punctuating his action. "Pah!" he shouted, throwing his hands into the air, as other members of the family slid past me on their way to the kitchen, their glances just as hateful as that of Remy's brother. Peeling open the note, I recognized the curly lettering as coming from my brother's own antique fountain pen, his words just as twisted and bizarre as the script which conveyed his message. "A duel to the death be thy challenge, foul adopted mongrel of Clan LeBeau, to be fought at the dawning of the sun of the morn, July 19, for the honor of the clan and the Guild Of Thieves. Prepare to meet a death best suited the scion of the gutters. Signed, Julien Boudreaux."
There would be no peace for either Remy or myself that day. Tantie continued begging God for healing and guidance as she ministered Remy's soul and wound at the same time. Meanwhile, Jean-Luc, Henri and several of the senior Guild brothers fussed and argued around Remy's bed, with Henri trying to talk his father into allowing him to fight Julien in his little brother's place. As much as Jean-Luc appreciated Henri's zeal and concern, he knew that the Assassins would never accept such a trade. Julien had the Thieves exactly where he wanted them, with Remy weakened and wounded yet forced to try to defend himself against the anger, hate and deadly skill of the prince of the Assassins. Never mind that the Guild brothers, cowards that they are, had no problem with the idea of Julien finishing off what he'd begun; they were more than happy with having someone on the outside getting rid of Remy for them, rather than having to find a way to destroy him themselves. They detest the idea that Remy could possibly grow up to lead them to such a great degree that it wouldn't surprise me if they had taken out a contract with Julien just to rid themselves of him. Now that I write this...it makes more and more sense, that is, if I didn't know that Julien didn't need urging from anyone to attempt to kill Remy. His hate for my love of Remy runs so deep that it swims in his bloodstream. It's what keeps him...alive.
Bandaged and brooding, Remy rose long before dawn this morning, his gaunt, chiseled frame revealed in the silver light of the moon. He hadn't truly slept through the night before, his heart and mind racing each other in fits of worry, hour after hour. Ever considerate, he slid as quietly as possible out of our bed, holding his left arm and its sling tightly against his body as he did. I watched him flinch at the sound of the creaking floorboards, then saw the shudder which took him as he felt the inevitable pain throughout his body that resulted from the reflex shrugging of his wounded shoulder. Poor thing, and all because he didn't want to disturb me. I could have giggled at the sight of his cute little naked backside had it been any other situation, but not this. He was scared and hurting, afraid for his life, worried about our future together and horrified that he'd have to kill my brother or die trying. And me...? I knew that by the end of the day I'd either be a widow mourning her lost love or a sister grieving the death of her brother and an Assassin seeking vengeance for his demise. I didn't wish to be any of the above, but there seemed to be no way out.
Fearing the worst for him because of his injury, I tried to persuade Remy to run---to flee Louisiana and to take me with him---but he knew better. He led me to the bedroom window and motioned to me to cautiously look downstairs at the numerous members of the Guild Of Thieves milling around the kitchen door and the garden gate. "They won't let me leave, chere," Remy sighed, shaking his head, "which is why they made us stay here in Papa's house under lock and key. If I don't uphold the honor of the Guild, they'll kill me where I stand and you along with me, Belle. I can't let that happen. If anything happens to me, Papa and Henri, they'll look after you, darlin'. But here, take these..." In my hand he placed a set of ice cold keys hung on a "University Of Louisiana, Lafayette" keychain which, like Remy's eyes, glowed in the darkness of the room. "It was my surprise, my wedding gift to you, Belle: a pretty little house in the Garden District with roses all over the backyard and a moon gate on the side for luck. When this is all over, we'll go open it up and be happy there raising fat little Cajun babies. We'll have a crawfish boil every Bastille Day for our anniversary, too, and have all the relatives over by the dozens. It'll be our dream home, and it's waiting for us, chere. Now go back to sleep, petite; ain't nothing we can do now but pray, yeah."
In the hour before dawn, my husband was surrounded by the men of the LeBeau clan, with them instructing him on how to handle himself at the site of the duel. Word had been sent to the Assassins that the weapon of choice would be swords, an option which left both duelists relatively equal, given their high level of skill. Of course, Julien had a clear psychological and physical edge, having inflicted the near-mortal wound Remy nursed on his left side. Even worse, I know he was relying on the fact that Remy wouldn't willingly kill his wife's own brother. The cards were stacked against Remy all the way 'round...and he knew it.
I wanted to be at the duel; why, I'm not sure, because I would have been more of a liability than a help to both Julien and Remy. The last thing Remy needed was to be distracted by me, thus giving Julien a bigger edge, and Julien didn't need the sight of me hugging and kissing Remy for luck to spur on his hatred. Jean-Luc refused to let me attend, ordering Henri to drive me to my Gran'pere's home for safekeeping, and Gran'pere agreed to make sure that I didn't leave. I was locked up in my room with Assassins members guarding my bedroom door, the nearby windows and the front and back doors. All I could do is sit and watch the sunrise as someone I loved died.
An hour after the sun rose and lit up the bayou, Cousin Alphonse's pickup truck pulled up to the front of the house like a bat out of Hell. There was a swarm of activity like nothing I've ever seen, with cousins running back and forth from the truck to the house. Eventually, Cousin Jean-Pierre arrived in his delivery van and Gran'pere slowly left the passenger side of it. He was moving like the world rested on his shoulders, and his low-hung head pretty much told me what I didn't want to know. In fact, all of the cousins were dragging, so I knew what had happened. I knew then and there that some how, some way, Remy must have found a way to best Julien and I wasn't sure how to feel about that. For a moment, I was so glad at the thought that Remy might have survived that I was actually smiling; that was until I thought about the possibility of Julien being dead and what turmoil that would cause between the Guilds. No way would the Assassins settle for that as an outcome. I knew they'd be calling for Remy's blood as sure as I'm sitting here. Sometimes I really hate it when I'm right.
By afternoon, all "H" was breaking loose in Bayou Teche, with the various members of the Assassins Guild calling for Remy's head, so I knew from what I was hearing that Remy had survived. Julien wasn't dead, but he was very near it, so I was finally allowed out of my room so that I could go downstairs to see him. Poor Tante Mattie had been enlisted to save Julien, but he was even beyond her curative abilities at that point; she'd recommended that he be taken to the nearest emergency ward, but Gran'pere refused. The trouble with belonging to ancient orders such as the Guilds who still carry on as if it's 1750 is that doctors and nurses and policemen of the modern age tend to ask far too many questions when confronted with wounds inflicted by a dagger made in the 15th Century or ones that were the results of being shot by a 19th Century single shooter or an 18th Century muscat. Gris Gris, Gran'pere's version of a "voodoo priest," said that he might be able to find an elixir to save Julien, but I stopped listening to him somewhere along the way. I was waiting for one of them to say something- --anything---about Remy.
Tante Mattie made an effort to gather some of the family together for a Rosary around mid-afternoon, but the cousins weren't having it; a couple of them even blasphemed about God forsaking us seriously enough for Tantie to threatened to slap them. As they left the drawing room where Julien lay lingering on, I took Tantie aside to ask her what she knew about Remy's condition. We young'uns all think of her as an auntie, but for a number of us she's been the closest thing we've ever had to a mother, none more so than Remy, though. At least Julien and I remember our own mother; she didn't die until I was seven or eight. But Remy never knew either of his parents, or at least he sure doesn't remember them, so Tantie nicely filled that gap, being the loving, caring and nurturing woman that she is. She's tried hard to be as even-handed as humanly possible in her dealings between the Guilds, but everyone knows that her heart belongs to that poor little waif with the blood red eyes.
"Remy took some nasty cuts from Julien's sword," Tantie told me, crossing herself as she did, "but the Holy Mother herself must have been interceding for him, darlin'. It was so hard for him having to fight with that wounded shoulder, but I bandaged it as best as I could first thing this morning and it seemed to hold up. He was bleeding pretty badly for a little while there, but I cared for him until I left to come back here with Julien after the duel. Sure hurt me to see the way the Thieves dragged Remy off, though, when it was all over; liked to wrench his shoulder right out of the socket, the way they was pulling and pushing on him..."
I couldn't imagine what she was talking about. Why would the Thieves treat Remy that way if he...if he won? When I asked her, Tantie stopped to look around us cautiously, checking for prying eyes and wide-open ears. "Your kin, they demanded a life for a life. They told the Thieves that if they didn't hand Remy over to them, they'd declare open warfare on all of the members. The Guild brothers...they voted to surrender Remy to your Grandfather to do with what he wanted; the Assassins wanted to execute him there and then. Only Jean-Luc and Henri stepped forward to save him; Jean- Luc was able to strike a bargain with your Grandfather, seeing as Julien wasn't actually dead. It was agreed that Remy would be held captive by the Thieves; they're gonna prevent that baby from escaping, just so they can hand him over to your kin should Julien...well, you know. Last I heard, they've thrown him in one of them jail cells in the foundation of the old courthouse; ain't nothing but a stone slab for the boy to sit and sleep on and a grating for him to piss in down in that ice cold dungeon. And the way they treated that child; you'd think he'd committed some crime by trying to protect his own life! He didn't call for this duel---Julien did---and Remy did everything he could not to kill your brother, chere. You must believe your old Tantie on that. All he wanted to do was protect himself as best he could, what with his shoulder still smarting from that arrow's wound. You know in your heart that if Remy had just wanted to end the duel and do in Julien, he could have used his powers to save himself. He didn't even use them when his own people were taunting him and all, tying him up and knocking him around and all. I ain't never been more ashamed to know them folks in my life. I got to forgive them because my Savior says I have to, but it's one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do. And if they hurt that child...well, honey, this is the Lord sending me a test of my faith. That's what it is, yeah."
So there it was. Remy was condemned to death, whether he understood it or not, and his own people were going to deliver him. I could just see Gran'pere's glee at finally getting the chance to punish Remy for my friendship with him and for the boy having the gall-darned nerve to think he had a right to fight to save his own life. I talked to Tantie about me going to see Remy, but she advised me against trying, what with all the bad emotions stirring within both Guild camps. She was afraid that the Thieves would attack me if I came anywhere near where they held Remy, and I had to agree that she was right. There's was no way them hoodlums would let me see my husband.
Late this evening, Cousin Alphonse came up to my room to tell me that Gran'pere had met with Jean-Luc LeBeau about Remy's fate and that a decision had been made. He wouldn't tell me just what that was and instead advised me to wait until Tante Mattie came back to tend to what was left of Julien. He was near death and being seen to downstairs still, like I cared. The cousins wanted me to come down and say a few words over him, but I refused. It's Julien who caused all of this misery; he can rot in Hell for all I care, but even the Devil himself wouldn't want that bastard down there. He don't need the competition; Julien would definitely try to take over the place.
When I was finally able to corner Tantie late tonight, the poor ol' dear was worn out, happy to sit down in my rocking chair and put her tired feet up. Her careworn face reflected all of the sorrows of the last few days and she had a hard time holding back tears. I asked her how Remy was doing, but she delayed answering me for as long as she could. It was easy to notice that her eyes wouldn't meet mine; I don't suppose that she could bear it. Eventually, she waved me over to sit beside her; she held my hand for a long time before she could force out her words.
"They are both gone, cherie---both Remy and Julien. Your kinfolk took Julien off somewhere; they wouldn't tell me more than that. The last time I saw him they were pulling a sheet up over his face. And Remy..." Sobbing, she stopped to wipe tears from her eyes with an overused handkerchief while, at the same time, a lump grew so large in my throat that it choked off my breath. "Gran'pere? Did he kill Remy? Tell me!" I know I shouldn't have screamed at her, but I couldn't stand it anymore. Squeezing my hand, she shook her head negatively. "Thanks be to God, no, darlin', but he sure wanted to," she answered, beating her hand against her heart. "But he might as well have cut the heart out of the boy just as soon as what he did agree to. The only thing he'd agree to, short of killing Remy, was to banish him-- -not just from the bayou or New Orleans but from the entire state. The Assassins say that he must leave and never return under pain of death, for him and all of the Thieves. If he ever comes home, it's open warfare on the lot of them. That put it on the Thieves to police Remy, and believe me, they done just that, chere. They give him until dawn to make himself scarce...or else they'd kill him long before the Assassins got to him. Jean- Luc agreed to the demand and told Remy that was the way it was gonna be. I like to die seeing the look on Remy's face when he heard that from his papa's mouth; the poor baby was so hurt and confused. He kept asking after you, sweetheart---asking how you was doing and begging to see you and all. I swear he was more worried for you than for himself, yeah. All he wants to do is see you, Bella Donna, but your kinfolk, they told him that they'd shoot him on sight if he came anywhere near you. The Thieves, they tried to tie him up, to drag him to a pick-up truck to drive off and get rid of him, and that's when...that's when he couldn't take no more, the poor child..."
I was so numb by then that I didn't think that I could take no more, neither. Still, I had to know. "What did he do, Tantie?" I asked, my head in my hands. Her voice was so hesitant that I had to look up at her to make sure that she was still breathing. Tantie looked wild-eyed and frightened and she began wringing her hands like she was seeing a ghost as she recalled the events she had witnessed. "His powers, chere. They went wild. Remy went out of his mind. All the worry, the fear, the humiliation, the pain, being told he couldn't be with you ever again...it was all too much. All of the sudden, everything around us started sparking with that...that glow of his. The ropes around him...they ignited and fell off of him. He just stood there, his face full of rage and his eyes...oh my Lord, Jesus, his eyes. They was like two burning hot coals, like fire was leaping from them. He didn't even have to put his hands on things, like he does; he was blowing things apart with his mind. Trucks blew up just with a look from him, as well as the guns, knives...just everything. Then he just walked away without looking back at anyone. I wanted to go after him, to call him back, but Jean-Luc kept me from going to him; he said that having Remy leave was the only way to keep everyone safe. Them Thieves...they only ever wanted Remy for what they could get out of him and to take advantage of them powers of his, but the minute the boy needed them, they turned their backs on him and abandoned him to the streets again. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, dear; it breaks my heart." With that, she fell silent, preferring to sob into her handkerchief while patting my hand for comfort, rather than to continue to talk about the hole left in her heart by Remy's banishment.
I've been sitting here for hours now as I write while keeping an ear out for sounds outside my window, but I haven't heard a peep out of the dogs or the guards stationed around the grounds. I had to believe that Remy would come for me to take me away with him, but it'll be dawn within a few minutes and there's been no sign of him. If he's not here by now, he'd be out of his mind to try. He's a dead man walking if he's anywhere south of the Louisiana state line, and Tantie said that Henri and Jean-Luc were to see to him getting away because they have to protect the Thieves.
That no good Remy. How could he leave me behind? How could he not even try to come to get me? I'd give my life for him; he should know that after all of these years. I'd run to the ends of the Earth with him and live life on his terms, no matter how bad things got, no matter how bad people out there treat him. I've packed a suitcase and everything, just so I'd be ready to leave with him; I wasn't even gonna take all of my stuff. He's gotten on to the property so many times before; I can't believe that he would let my family's threats keep him away. That never bothered him before. I've got to face it: he's left me...left me to deal with the aftermath of this family feud. Gran'pere is so upset by Julien's demise that he looks to be near death himself, all his talk about an annulment being the only thing keeping him going. If he should die, that would leave me to be the matriarch of the Guild of Assassins. I'm only eighteen, but what kind of life is this? I have responsibilities better suited to an old woman, yet none of the joys the memories of which keep the old going strong. Here I am, a new bride, yet I don't know if my husband is alive or dead. I could be a widow for all I know, but I can't mourn for being angry. What I do know is that I'll never forgive Remy for taking off without me. I could kill him for leaving me here: slice his throat and not think a thing of it. If I ever get hold of him, that's exactly what I'll do, as soon as spit on him. I hope he roams the Earth and never finds peace, a home or friendship; he doesn't deserve it for abandoning those same things he could have had with me.
Damn that thieving, faithless boy. He stole the most priceless item in my world: he stole my heart and ran away with it like a thief in the night. I'm left here holding the broken shards of a love that will never be. He had no faith in our love, so he took my heart and trashed all else. He's gotten away, too, but someday, as God is my witness, I'll make him pay the price all thieves must pay for their deceit. Damn him. Damn him to Hell.
--------DB