Chapter 6
A most dangerous discovery
As I was walking over to the path that led the way through the middle of the vineyard to the monastery, I was shocked out of my thoughts by a discovery that would change the breadth of my life from then on. Lying on the road in a twisted mess was a carriage. The horses were nowhere to be found, I assumed they had been taken by whoever had left the overturned carriage in such a state. I was drawn nearer by morbid fascination, having found a body lying twisted in the wreckage that was the carriage. As I drew nearer I deduced it must have been the driver of the carriage. I feared that by the looks of things, the carriage had rolled along the road, ending on its side. It looked as if it had been dragged or forced for a ways on its side; it was incredibly twisted on the top and two of the wheels were missing from the front. I found the door and was readying to open it when I stopped. I had to pause for a moment, my lungs would not breathe, for on the door was the crest of the de Chagny family. Fear and dread crept into my heart and soul as I frantically fought to gain access to this wreck holding the merest possibility of my Christine inside. I could not see in as there was such a strewn mess of luggage. It was feminine, as there were corsets and hairpieces, shoes and fine dresses. I recognized some of the contents; frantically I struggled to get the door opened. Finally after several futile attempts, it began to move on its mutilated hinges.
I gave a formidable tug to the door, loosing it at last from its hinges completely into my hands. I threw the door to the roadside. Now I had to lie across the carriage and try to move things to find Christine. My breath was coming in short gasps and I don't think my heart has ever ached so deeply as in these moments of waiting to find out whether my beloved had left me completely and finally. There was so much to say that I had not said. I promised God then and there that if he allowed me to find her and save her I would not play games; I would tell her what I had to and let her free if she wished. I had to see her alive again. "God, please… please!"
The last plea left my lips so loud that it drew the attention of the brother lighting the lamps and he shouted, "Erik, is everything all right?"
I was too busy and frantic to even register that he had spoken to me; I continued to search through the sea of clothing, trying to make my way to the bottom of the carriage. "Confound it woman, do you have to have all these infernal clothes? I always said you wore too many!"
"Er… Erik. It couldn't be, my Angel, are you here to take me to heaven? My prayers are…"
It was my beloved. She was talking, her voice was very weak and came in stuttering gasps at points, but it was my Christine. She was there, and she was still alive. I had to find her now…I worked at the clothes for what seemed to be hours, probably only minutes, but to a man thirsting for reassurance that his beloved was alive it was far too long to wait. Finally I moved a particularly filmy and lascivious piece of sleepwear away to gaze upon the face of my tortured and salacious imagination. All I could do is drink her in, her, here, within arms' reach. I never thought I would see her again; what sweet torture! I tore myself away from my thoughts and tried to be rational. She was extremely pale; I could tell that in the waning moments of dusk's last light. I had to get her out, now.
"Christine, how badly are you injured? Can I move you or will you hurt worse if I try? Do you feel trapped anywhere, and can you answer me, my love?" The last bit came out of my mouth without thinking. I was immediately sorry for that, as her eyes fluttered open and she tried to speak. Somehow I roused her from her unconsciousness and by the look on her face I could tell she was sure she was dreaming and it quite alarmed her. However she was in no position to do anything about her fear of why she was imagining her angel here, now. I was so unsure of the right thing to do to get her through this alive; I didn't want to alarm her and I wanted to help her. I was going to have to go down there and get her up. I would have to kick off the remainder of the top of the carriage to allow me to get her out easily. She needed reassurance, so I did the only thing I could do; I began to sing softly to her. Drawing loosely from the melody from Wandering Child, I put new words to fit the situation in while I tried to get her to relax and trust the help she had been given. The words I sang softly in her ear were simple but told of my love and need to protect her. The veil of time had been lifted and no denials hung in the air any longer, it was simply Christine and me. My heart thumped incessantly at the situation unfolding before me though at the time I could not for the life of me have said why. I truly forgot everything but Christine in that moment of time.
Beautiful girl, so hurt so helpless
I am right here beside you
All of your needs be met this e'ning
With love and tender purpose
Dear sweet Christine I'll not leave you
This much I say to you true
You are the voice in my mirror
I look there and find you
Angel of music do not shun me
Live for your strange Angel
Angel of music I adore you
Stay with me here beside me
I am your Angel of music
Come with me, Angel of music!
In between singing this to her gently and softly, I would guide her to move and she was finally able to get over. I moved down to her and cradled her nearly-unconscious head on my lap. I had to gaze at her and move the beautiful curls from her face to be sure it was my Christine. When I was satisfied yet again that it was her, I was able to brace myself, even with her up against me. how I know not now, but it was so at the time. I gave a monstrous push with my legs and was able to move the roof from the top of the carriage; it was so mangled I figured it would move pretty easily. Brother Stephen and I were then able to get Christine extricated from the wreckage.
With that done, I lovingly cradled Christine in my arms, and removed her from the debris. I refused to put her down, and merely knelt with her in my arms to allow Brother Stephen to see that she was indeed alive. Before I could say anything, Brother Stephen suggested that she go to the spare room in the Chapel. I had already decided that but figured it would not hurt to humor him by telling him it was a good idea.
As I rose to carry her back to the Chapel, the passing thought, what if that foolish Raoul was with her? Crossed my mind but I decided rather selfishly to tell Brother Stephen nothing. The boy had better hope, for his sake, that he was not, for if this was how he was going to see to Christine's well-being, he bloody well would not be allowed to make such a mistake again. I could not comprehend his letting her get injured and ambushed as he had. Regrettably, I would come back and look for Raoul later; surely he would not have survived this mess were he with her, so there was no great hurry. Christine was lucky to have survived. I knew as I carried her from the ruins that she could bear my gentle touch, though she was badly injured and I would have to see just how badly when I got her to the Chapel room.
The walk to the Chapel was sweet torment for me, I felt so happy and light-hearted at the prospect of holding Christine once more. It was a feeling I had thought I would never experience again. Suddenly and without warning, her eyes fluttered open and she smiled a deep and sensual smile at me; sliding her arms gently around my neck, she rested her head on my chest, directly over my rapidly beating heart, causing it to accelerate several beats per minute at her simple touch. I groaned tearfully, "Christine, what has he done to you?"
She seemed to understand my words, though she was unable to answer with anything more than a whispered; "Angel, my beloved Angel, came to save me..." Her poor broken body was spent. She grew unconscious at last, and I know that the blessed oblivion was just what she needed in her pain. I fought the urge to crush her to me in a passionate embrace; my love for her still so overwhelming to me. I knew that that was the last place my mind needed to be right now, and steeled myself to resist the onslaught of emotions I was nowhere near ready to deal with. I was so fearful I would never see her alive again that I wanted to get all I could from our reunion, to convey in some manner to her how I felt. I knew it was inappropriate to be having these feelings, so I fought the strong urge to give into temptation. The gravity of the situation prevented me from continuing on this vein for long.
Finally we entered the Chapel, moving around to the side, and my room. I brought her gently into the room, leaving the door open so that the candles from the lit votives in the antechamber were lighting the room with a very soft glow. Nightfall had occurred sometime while I was cradling my beloved and gently returning her to my heart. I tenderly laid Christine upon my unused bed, the one I had intended to begin to sleep in this very evening. How ironic that the object of my entire life was given to lay in it in my stead. As she settled softly upon the mattress, I glimpsed the fact that there was no ring upon her finger. Did it mean the people who had done this to Christine had stolen it, or did it mean something else? NO, I chided myself firmly; I could not afford to do this to my poor mind yet again. I was going to have to give her to the ministrations of the brothers, and stay away, for her sake as well as mine. I could not travel down this road again, it was too dangerous; surely this time I would not be so noble. There was no way I could begin to love her again and give her back to Raoul, that foolish boy, who could not even protect her on a simple trip. What else would he neglect to do to ensure my beloved's safety and happiness? God, I had to get out of the room, but all I could do was kneel at her side and look at her.
She was so beautiful; it took a moment for me to remember she was injured and needed my help. I lit some candles and the oil lamp on the wall next to the bed. She was so pale; she had a deep gash on her forehead, near the hairline. It was then that I decided I could not give her over to the care of the brothers, not yet. Maybe not at all, I had to see her through this, see her well again. I went to the basin in the back of the Chapel and drew some water from the pump we had installed in the anteroom. The water was cold, but it needed to be used now, so there was no time to light the aggie and try to warm this batch. I would set some on the aggie and light it later.
I returned to her side with the basin of water and a soft cloth I had found in the anteroom near the pump. These pumps were handier than the well they used near the Monastery. Ah, technology was fantastic. For a brief moment I allowed myself to think of the possibilities; if a pump could be directed properly, with a lever installed to turn it on and off perhaps one could bring it further into the building. I would have to work on that later. My thoughts abruptly returned to the beauty beneath my hands. I had unconsciously begun to clean the wound; I forgot to add alcohol to the water to stem the possibility of infection. I rose and went quickly through the tunnel to my room at the monastery to get the alcohol I used on my face on nights when I was chafed by my mask. I returned with the bottle and added some to the water. If only I had some of my gypsy remedies. I may need to create some if she worsened. Maybe the physician would be able to tend to her, but I would be watching, and if she didn't get better I would sell my soul to save her. After all-- hadn't I already done just that?
I had to continue to look for injuries or bruising that could be causing her fatal harm without my knowledge. I had to try to inspect her while remaining chaste, for the sake of the brothers as well as Christine's. It was difficult, as I had drawn her so many ways, rather often naked and wanton in the pictures. God I hoped I had truly burned them all thoroughly. No use worrying that now, however; I had to get through this without compromising so much that it took all my concentration to even begin. I let the curl I was absently fingering fall back to the pillow, as I decided it would be wise to first lift her and check her back to see if there were abrasions or bleeding there. Gently I cradled her head, not certain whether it was to comfort and reassure her in case she woke or to comfort me in my fear she might die any time and leave me forever and irrevocably. I then lifted her top off the pillows I had propped beneath her, looking first upon the bed to see if I garnered any blood stains. I groaned in distress when I saw one midway down her back. I had to try to remove Christine's garments and get to the spot to assess whether it needed stitches or merely cleaning and dressing. I realized unhappily that I had no dressings to place on my dear one. I then thought of the scraps of cloth they used to wrap the Blessed Sacrament when they ministered to the sick; I would have to buy the monastery more, for those strips would work perfectly for her dressing. I returned Christine to the pillows and went to retrieve them. That and strips of my robe to bind it with. I moved with practiced ease, as I had to do this to myself when I was caged like an animal; it was survival, and I had mastered dealing with injuries all too well. Now I found I was thankful for that knowledge, as I would surely never have acquired it elsewhere. I mused at how strange it was that things tend to happen for a reason, even horrible things. I had never before considered my experience with the carnival having merit or necessity in my life; maybe now in some warped way, it would.
Having found the hooks and ties, I was able to loose Christine's dress in the back and then I proceeded to unlace her corset began to remove it. She didn't need anything to restrict her breathing; her injuries could be masked by that inability right now. It was sweet torment to touch her bare skin, though I forced myself to try to remain detached from what I saw. It was difficult to see her beautiful soft milky white skin marred by blood and injury. It caused me to choke back a sob; how it hurt me to see her broken by anything!
The cut to her back was a gash that looked like something had considered impaling her, decided that the corset would be too difficult to get through, and instead decided to ram the corset whalebone into her back. The gash ran the length of her whalebone corset stay, hence the moan she let out semiconsciously when I removed the corset completely from around her. The blood trickled due to the irritation of removing the source of its injury, but I was able to rinse that away with the alcohol water. I gently dabbed down the length of Christine's back, while resting her head on my shoulder and singing softly into her ear. I sang her old Swedish lullaby, having found it in that book on Sweden and mastering it in the time I had the book in my possession. She went completely relaxed when she heard my voice, as if she knew she would be alright with me leading her through this nightmare.
The pangs of desire were quelled by my heartbreak at the suffering she was enduring at my hand through the aide I was giving her. The front of her gown was slowly falling to her waist; I had to keep one hand holding it around her to keep it up. If it came down I could not guarantee I would allow it to go unnoticed and adored. I could not do that to her, or to me.
To ensure I could comfort her while doing this painful task, I continued to hold her, she was pressed tightly against my front as I was cleaning her wound. I hit a spot that caused her great discomfort and she arched her back into me closing the space and bringing her forward, her face mere breaths away from mine. Surprised by her sudden reaction to the process, I looked away to the wound, trying to keep her from focusing on me, in case she could remember any of this. My attention returned to the wound immediately when I saw it's severity. It ran deep here, it was beginning to bleed harder, and I had to find a way to stop it soon or there would be trouble. This must have been where the object that attempted to impale her contacted her corset. It was bruised already around the gash, and she was in distress, moving whenever I tried to examine the gash with my hand. Finally she said, "No, Erik, it hurts, please don't…" Then she relaxed her tense muscles in my arms again, having once more returned to the haze of dream and reality she was in. This was becoming difficult fast; I had to keep her relaxed so that I could tend to her with out causing her such discomfort and distress.
I would have to try to turn her around without hurting her. I began to lay her back down, blood dripping from her gash as I did so; I was so worried about her by now that I hardly thought to look at her. Hardly, however being no saint, I did find myself gazing lovingly for but an instant, before my mounting concern for her life aided me in turning her to her front with her dress drawn way up now to ensure she remained completely modest. It would not do to have the brothers at odds with me over my beloved as well, now would it?
There, I had her on her stomach I had to believe that this gash was our biggest problem, and that was problem enough. I knew the kidneys were back here, and they were fragile when injured. As well, if there would be infection, it would be difficult as the kidneys were known as some sort of filter; it was hard to believe that they would work if they were injured. Kidneys would be the very thing I believed she would need to use most for any infection. So, I stemmed the increasing blood flow with my cloth squares. I placed some with pure alcohol, I knew it would sting, but I had to ensure sterility inside and around the wound. I wanted to give it some time with the wound packed, and then I would remove it and bind the injury tightly so that it would be able to close and heal. No, this was not a random incident; whoever did this to her wanted it to look like an accidental injury but I think they must have hurt her and placed her in the carriage after it rolled to cover up for trying to painfully and slowly kill Christine.
The injuries were not consistent, and she was too well hidden for it to be happenstance from the accident. I became so angry then that I began to pace the floor while waiting for the alcohol to absorb into her back a bit more. I knew it hurt as she was writhing in the bed now, agony etched on her face and small moans coming from her precious lips.
I had to control my rage and go calm her now. I put thought of this out of my mind and returned to her side, stroking her arms and rubbing her neck and cheek, I softly sang more to her in Swedish, I figured she would not think it was me if she heard Swedish. She would believe it had been her imagination and it was better that way. As far as she knew, I didn't speak Swedish. I had to decide if I would ever let her know I was here; for now, I wanted to keep my presence secret from her. I had to know if she was married, and I had to figure out who would have done this to her –and above all, why. This was not what I had in mind when I came here to live. Now I was going from prospective Brother to Inspector in an instant. I looked up and wryly noted; "God, your humor is so incredible that it even amuses me at times. You are truly a master of all things, for how else did this happen? To the one place I can find peace you bring the only woman capable of rending that peace apart. You are a brilliant playwright; surely you should make this one an opera. You truly are a master in Your craft. I nod to your talents."
When I returned to her, I removed the cloth with the alcohol and placed a dry piece of cloth upon her wound. It was still bleeding quite a bit, though it was thinner, indicating it was slowing down. I decided to put a couple more pieces of cloth over her back, and I needed to bind them tightly with strips of my robe. I ripped two lengths from the bottom hem, then I wrapped them around her from the front, they went around two times and I tightened it slightly and tied it. She was moving around a bit, as it was very painful to her bruised body to have to bind it once more after releasing the corset only minutes before. She reached for her forehead, trying to form a thought, having recovered yet more consciousness as a result of the pain inflicted upon her by me wrapping her wound.
God, I hoped she would not get an infection. I had no way of knowing how long she had been out there. A tear escaped unbidden as I looked at her and imagined the hours she had suffered before I arrived to save her. Again I thought, Where the hell was Raoul? I was beginning to wonder at his part in this whole morbid affair. Was this on account of me? Had I something to do with why this happened to Christine? All I knew at this time was that Christine had, at some point prior to now, been in the Vicomte de Chagny's company.
How could I have thought I could leave her to the brothers to tend to? I could not drag myself from her side; having found her, it was impossible to part yet again. I was afraid she would finally and wholly leave me if I did. What would I do if she left me again? I would no doubt have to deal with my own emotions and fears, but I was not willing to think of that right now. She lived still; it was not time to worry myself, yet!
Before turning her to her back yet again, knowing that she had that injury and I had tended to it, I proceeded to refasten her dress as best I could without the use of a corset. I threw the corset angrily against the wardrobe, hating it for hurting my dear one. Then I thought about the fact that it may very well have saved her life, and retracted my anger just a bit.
Now that she was slightly more decent, I was able to check her arms and legs for any other injuries she may still have. I didn't believe she would have any more, but I still had to check to see if she had any broken or dislocated bones. I checked her right arm and slowly moved down to her hand, feeling the fine bones along the way. Everything felt alright, and there was no sign of discomfiture on her face, so I moved on to her other arm, feeling it the same way, I got to the wrist and noticed there were marks from someone's grip on her. They had bruised the delicate bones of her wrist, and she moaned and moved a bit when I felt there. It appeared her wrist had been dislocated and now was just painful from the earlier injury. I went back to her right wrist to ensure that she had not been bound or something without my keen eye noticing any marks the first time I looked. Sure enough, there were marks. She had been bound; she looked as if they had done considerable planning of this crime, having bound her prior to injury. Fighting back my mounting rage, I examined her further. Her right leg, forgive me, my dear, for this intrusion, but I must see if there are any marks or injuries to you. Pray you don't remember this, as I want you to only know purity in your life. I love you Christine, and mean you no harm, my precious angel of music, I said very softly to her, though she was unable to hear, having finally relaxed to unconsciousness
I expected to see some sort of struggle evident on her legs, her right leg felt nothing short of exquisite; though I held concern for her well-being first, I allowed myself to revel in the feel of her skin, soft under my fingertips. I could not help but linger just the briefest of moments at her ankle, massaging her foot as I finished inspection of the right leg. When I moved to the left leg, I noticed a gash and bruise on the shin of her leg. I feared it may have been broken, it was in need of cleaning and dressing at the very least, but until she was back on the mend, we would not have to worry about binding the bone. It appeared to be aligned well, it was hard to tell if it was broken or merely a bruised bone. I chose to err on the side of caution and bind her leg up a bit for now, more securely later when she had to try to walk. For this it took several more minutes of torturous alcohol water to soothe and clean the wound, then I put a clean cloth over her wound. I finished by tearing three more strips of my fabric from the hem of my robe, bringing it close to my knees. I wrapped the leg deftly and carefully paid attention to keep the wound protected. After I was done with all of that, I returned to her forehead, at the hairline, to soothe her gashed head. It had stopped bleeding but looked uncomfortable. I used regular water for this cleaning; I didn't want to irritate her skin any more than I had to already.
Feeling that I had accurately and completely assessed her injuries for now and ministered to them, I covered my angel, singing softly to her the Swedish lullaby as I walked through the mirror to the monastery to summon the brothers' help.
As Erik left the room through the mirror, Christine opened her eyes slowly; sure she was dreaming as she saw the figure retreating through a familiar looking mirror. "Erik" She called weakly. Then she returned to the dark oblivion she had been reduced to by her pain and injuries once more.