Chapter 10

Of travels and troubles

Erik---

I left Brother James to prepare for my departure. There were things I would have to go back to the Populaire and seek out. I needed to find something with which I could defend myself. I was not going after a potentially murderous lot without taking precautions. The catgut lasso came to mind, my old friend, quick and clean, it worked well and was easy to throw. I preferred this to the hempen noose I had made and kept with me. Why I had it here, I do not know, old habits die hard, I guess. I missed the catgut, it was a better weapon by far; maybe it had not been discovered by the mob when I fled the Populaire. "Keep your hand at the level of your eyes" was echoing through my head now. Well, having been the previous reason behind that warning, I certainly knew how to do that better than most. It also seemed prudent to retrieve any clothing or masks that might remain at the lair. However, I held little hope of finding any after all these months of my previous home being accessible to looters and vagrants.

I thought of that funny little monkey music box of which Christine and I were so fond. Such a strange thing to comfort us in our fear of the pain or loneliness we were dealt with at various times throughout the course of our tempestuous relationship. It had been some time since I had thought of it. Suddenly I was missing it and hoping that it was still there. I remembered placing the ring Christine had given me, the one she had received from that wretched boy, in the secret compartment beneath the monkey. I still marveled at the wisdom behind giving that ring to me. Had she not kissed me earlier, that would have been the most curious thing she had done that night. I had taken it as a slap in the face that she was leaving to marry that foolish vicomte and she felt the need to comfort me in my heartbreak with that bauble. I would have preferred a lock of her hair or perhaps one final un-witnessed kiss from her honey lips; those lips that haunted my waking dreams as well as in sleep. That, to me would have been worth the sacrifice and the subsequent death she believed had been my fate. Her taste lingered on my mouth even now, and had haunted my emotions every unguarded moment of my life since that night.

I could feel my anger at that foolish, wretched boy growing dangerously near madness once more. I could not help but place the entire disaster of a few days ago squarely upon his shoulders. I was almost frantic to prove that I was right and he was no good for Christine, to win her freely for myself. Surely the expression on my face was more that of a maniacal monster's than a man's by the time I finished brooding over these feelings. There would be no way to refrain from doing something imprudent if I did not stop thinking as such right now. There were promises I had made which, though months ago I would have broken without compunction, I now found quite difficult to dismiss abruptly without merit. I realized then that I was being selfish, my destruction of Christine would be complete if I began this campaign on her senses once again.

In my small room, I pulled out the clothing I had been wearing when I entered this haven of peace and sanctuary: a warm vest, I decided to leave behind, choosing rather, the warm cloak I had grabbed that night when I returned to seize my mask before leaving. I also decided to take the remnants of my Don Juan outfit. Perhaps not the most auspicious of garments I thought ruefully, reminded yet again of my humiliation before all of Paris, but they will do should I have need to change out of my robe. I hoped that would not be necessary as it was the perfect disguise. No one would think to look for the Opera Ghost in simple monk's garb. The cloak however, would be welcomed against the chill of the late fall air.

Tossing the boots and trousers upon my bed, I wrapped the lawn shirt around Monsieur Daaé's book of Sweden, the picture safely ensconced within. I was certain that Christine would need to see it upon my return. To know that her father had left this picture behind, and that she was connected in some way with this place. I was sure there was a history and answers here for her. The explanation why I was bringing it with me now instead of leaving it behind for her to find was rather embarrassing, but stemmed from a gut feeling that I might need it somehow to solve this whole mess at some point. I would not analyze it nor would I be able to explain it; rather, I had learned to trust my instincts over the years and would not stop now.

When I returned, Christine would need to begin that journey of self-discovery that her father had laid out for her through the book clues. Yes, I agreed with myself silently, I would need to show her the picture even if it meant that I was the one who had to walk away from her for good this time. I would have to be scrupulous about how I acted out this scenario if I wished even a chance of not losing her for a second time. It would shatter my heart the rest of the way and cause a greater madness in me than I had ever known before should I be denied yet again. I had felt like dying the last time. If it happened again I could not even contemplate what the pain might drive me to; perhaps suicide, or even worse, to kill again despite my vows not to.

Adding the shirt-covered book to the small pile, I retrieved the charred sketches of Christine and carefully rolled them up, then placed them gently in one of my boots. Partially burned or not, I was glad the likenesses were intact, as I now had them to sustain me during this venture.

Folding the warm woolen bedcover over my belongings, I rolled it up and secured it with a bit of rope then tucked the pack under my arm and left, only to find Brother James waiting for me. "Ah, Erik, it would seem that you have readied yourself for your journey," he commented casually and handed me a pouch of food - far more than one man would need for such a relatively short journey. I glanced at him warily as we made our way back to the great room and library. He paused just outside the door of the great room obviously trying to figure out how to garner my acceptance for a situation he knew I would find unpalatable, then shook his head and just sprang it on me.

"Brother Andrew needs to return to Paris for his nephew's confirmation. Since he is heading the same way you are, would you consider allowing him to join you on your trip into Paris? It would save us the trouble of having to secure an escort for him if you would; we never travel alone."

I looked at Brother James with a suspicious eye, wanting to believe the excuse was not contrived to keep an eye on me, but that he genuinely needed an escort for a brother and nothing more. I knew the type of leader he was; he would find a reason not to allow me to leave here unaccompanied, no matter what my disposition. I had half a mind to say 'no', but I felt obliged to Brother James for all he had done for me, as well as all he had not, over these many months. Realizing he already knew the answer, I had no choice but to say, "Of course it would be no bother."

Shaking his head with a smile that seemed to say, I knew you would not dare deny this simple request, Brother James excused himself for a moment to step over to the shelf and retrieve a text. Returning to me, he added, "I nearly forgot; I want to give you another item to read while on your travels. I have a feeling that there is a connection somewhere between what happened to Mademoiselle Daaé and the two books I have now given you."

Gazing at the text Brother James placed in my hands, I discovered it was about the Paris commune, written by a reporter who traveled with the revolutionaries during their short but bloody incursion. Brother James had more to say about the information contained in the writings he had just handed me. He cleared his throat. "You know, Erik, that book I gave you on Sweden was from Monsieur Daaé. He also left this other book, to be given to his daughter when she turned eighteen. He figured she would either be married, or soon to be married by then. He related to me that there are things ensconced within the pages for her eyes only. I believe perhaps that they are clues to something he alluded to having hidden for her to take possession of as an adult. I was under the impression that whatever it was, there were possibly people looking for this particular book for that reason."

Looking down at what he had placed in my hands, I found myself curious as to why Gustave Daaé would have left this book for Christine with such an enigmatic directive as to its disposition. This book did indeed seem as though it might have significance in some way, but how it tied into the situation at hand would need to be resolved promptly and I was certain it would not be obvious. I owed another debt of gratitude to Brother James now because of this. Examining the writing before me, I added, "It would seem logical, though not obvious, that there could be a connection somehow between the information herein contained and what happened to Christine; I shall have to look further into it and see what I can find."

"I do not doubt your affection for the young woman. She needs your protection. Though your past is questionable, you have proven your intentions toward her are honorable. Her father was a forgiving and good man, who had a troubled past as well. If he had gotten the chance to acquaint himself with you as I have, maybe learned something of your motivations, perhaps you would have been her father's choice for Christine's protector. You obviously adore her and are more than capable of protecting and caring for her. I wonder where the vicomte has been during this time as I have not heard of him turning up missing or dead. There does not seem to be any reason for his apparent lack of action in trying to find her. In light of this, I find you to be the staunch soul she can rely on in her tribulation. Therefore, I want you to be the one to scour this book at length for the clues I suspect it contains, and solve the mystery surrounding Mademoiselle Daaé. Her life, as well as the lives of anyone else who might know she was to receive this book, may depend on what you find. Maybe she shall then find peace and where her true happiness lies. I suspect that she may have been motivated to go with the vicomte more for wealth and position than for love."

Brother James looked up at me as if he suddenly realized the time. "I am sorry, Erik, you must be in a hurry to get started. I will see what is keeping Brother Andrew."

I pondered Brother James' words as he left. Glancing through the information in my hands, it appeared to be yet another conundrum to work out in the increasingly large network of puzzles leading up to the day I found Christine waiting for Death's kiss. He soon returned and I closed the book, searching behind him for Brother Andrew.

"He shall be along promptly. I told him that he would have to ready himself quickly if he was to go with you. Being given the opportunity to travel with the genius he worked alongside to erect our beautiful chapel made him very happy. Brother Andrew is rather young, so he may be a bit more eager trying to find out things about you than you wish. Please gently put him in his place and do not lose patience with him. I would deeply appreciate it if you would remember that."

I was beginning to regret my momentary lapse into altruism already and we had not even begun the journey to Paris yet! "I shall do my best, though I make no promises where my patience is concerned. On your part, please remember that Christine is to know nothing of my existence. If necessary be evasive, though I know that you cannot outright lie to her. Keep exposure to her inquiries at a minimum and limit her caregivers to only those who are able to be ambiguous, please."

Brother James smiled and replied rather quietly, "Do not worry, Erik. Those chosen for such duty can always claim a vow of silence while she is in their care, that way we need neither lie to her nor answer her questions. If she mentions your name, we can shrug our shoulders as if we do not understand, or speak to her in another language so that she does not have the ability to converse with us. We shall find ways to avoid direct falsehoods. We have neither rules nor laws which strictly forbid us from ambiguity."

Suddenly, I smiled. This banter with Brother James was refreshing. He was the closest thing to a friend I had experienced since meeting Brigitte Giry so long ago. There was an invigorating difference between the two friendships, though. Although it was impossible to discuss my more primal urges with him, I still knew that Brother James understood that part of me, where Brigitte could not. I had never shared that common thread with another male before. While these men had vows to uphold they were, after all, still men and they understood what it was to feel as men do for women.

Christine landing on their doorstep probably brought that to the forefront for them, too. Curious; perchance they were more like me than they cared to admit. How would the monks deal with that instinctual, unthinking part of simply being men, and the feelings that Christine might invoke in them? Really, their contact with females was non-existent here, so Christine was something most of them had not been intimately involved with for as long as they had been at the monastery. Suddenly I began to wonder if she would be safe here. No, I could not justify distrust towards Brother James, he had never given me any reason to feel this way, he would watch over Christine well for me. It was just my possessiveness and jealousy for Christine that was causing this elemental doubt. It is what drove Christine from me the first time; I must not make the same mistake again. These thoughts were not worth pursuing further, they would taint the image of the monastic life these men had entered into. Any ordinary male, or the brothers even, would have just found a doctor and relieved themselves of the burden of caring for Christine by now. Not me. I could not let go of this sweet torture, for while she was here I knew she was not with the boy, and that was worth everything. It meant there still was a chance for me then, no matter how slight or imagined in my own perverse mind. It made the quest I was about to embark on more worthwhile than I could ever have imagined returning to Paris would be. Yet I was torn between my need to ensure her safety here, and my duty to ensure she would be safe from now on. I could not justify protecting her here at the cost of losing the trail of those responsible for her accident in the first place. They were after her, no doubt, and they would try again if I did not find them and put an end to this. I had to figure out why they wanted to get to Christine; it was pointless to save her life this time if they remained out there waiting for her. I had no choice but to leave her here, and protect her future for whomever she chose to live it with.

I was anxious to commence my journey. There was much to do, and I was not sure where I wanted to start. I supposed my first stop should be the Populaire for my lasso and to see if I could unveil any clues to Christine's situation, then find my way from there as the answers indicated. I began to grow impatient waiting for that laggardly monk who was to be my watchdog. "Brother James, what is keeping Brother Andrew? It would be prudent to begin the trip to Paris as soon as possible. We must not remain here any longer than necessary, as I fear time is against us." It was time to depart but since there was still no sign of my travel companion it gave me the opportunity to perform one last task before our departure. "Since he has not yet joined us, I shall look in on Christine one last time while you remind him again that speed is of the essence."

Making my way through the yard to the chapel, I sensed Brother Michael watching me with that acerbic gaze of his. I decided to ask Brother James to keep him from Christine while I was gone. I did not want him near her. I did not trust that he would remain silent regarding my presence at the monastery should she inquire. I felt he could be a threat to my anonymity if he talked with her, so I would ensure that would not happen. All would be well if he was kept far away from Christine. Perhaps it was overprotectiveness or paranoia once again on my part, but I suddenly wondered if he had played a part in the misfortunes which had befallen my dear Christine. Perhaps I was giving him too much credit for the intelligence it seemed he was lacking to be challenging me at all.

My suspicions of him, undirected though they were, grew as I crossed the courtyard and felt his eyes following my every move. So this was what it was like to have someone's gaze boring holes into you. I had done it many times without giving thought to how it felt. Now I wondered if I would ever be able to do it again, knowing the sensation at last. It was far different from when people looked at me and cowered away in fear of my face; this feeling was nothing like that, and I found it unsettling. Realizing that these thoughts just created problems I did not need to deal with yet, I again pondered my mission. As my irrational behavior had proven in the past, I did not always see clearly, when it came to Christine. Perhaps a more impartial point of view would keep me from doing anything rash. I realized I needed to send a post to Mme Giry, telling her the recent rumors of my untimely demise were slightly premature, and convey my suspicions of the unfortunate events concerning Christine and her foolish boy. Her assistance and insight into Christine's past could prove invaluable.

Arriving at last at the door of the chapel, I silently opened it and strode inside to the narthex. It was small, granted, but it served the brothers well as there were not many of them. It was necessary to see the organ, to begin my good-byes there. With any luck, my own beloved instrument would not be too badly damaged for me to play when I arrived at the Populaire. As I reached her, I was again struck by the profound beauty with which this magnificent instrument was crafted. Closing my eyes, I lovingly ran my hand along the fine ivory keys, imagining instead that I was caressing the beautiful woman for whom I had named this magnificent instrument.

My farewells made to the grand lady, I turned toward Christine's chamber, and my stomach twisted. I think I was actually afraid that she would recognize me, or that I might give in to temptation and reveal myself to her if I approached her and she was awake. I needed her and feared that she might weaken my resolve should she call my name today.

I stepped silently into her room. She was sleeping, thank God! I do not know what I would have done had she been awake. There was only one thing I wished to do at that point, but I knew that, as close as she was to discovering that I was still lived, it would be far too unwise for me to indulge myself and partake of her sweet lips. I merely brushed her cheek softly with one hand, then kissed my fingers, and pressed them gently to her mouth before turning to leave. Eyes still closed, she moved slightly in peaceful slumber, a smile coming to her face as she murmured sleepily, "I love you, Erik."

I froze in mid-step. Surely she could not have just uttered the words I had so longed to hear her speak. No, it was impossible. My mind must be playing tricks on me. She only loved me now that she thought I was dead. Shaken, I made to leave when I caught sight of a book on the table by her bed. I gazed at what my angel had found to occupy her mind, reading the title. It was on the purity of the soul and forgiveness according to the teachings of the Catholic Church. I found it odd that she felt need of that; she had been nothing but pure and pristine in my eyes. She embodied my ideal of a celestial angel of Heaven, as well as music personified. She understood me, knew of my sins, had seen my disfigurement, yet still managed to find good within me to love. Surely, this was a miracle. I marveled at the improbability of my worthiness of this phenomenon. She was the epitome of God's blessed ones and undoubtedly had a place in the heavens. Perhaps, with luck, one day I might accomplish something noble, something worthy of a place by her side in that blessed realm. I could hope for that, could I not? I resolved to take this book with me. After all, I was the one who needed this instruction, not my angel. That was, if this stuff was real. I was beginning to believe that perhaps there was something to it after all, and I wanted to explore this text for answers. I would have to tell Brother James before I left. He could find a good explanation as to why it had gone missing when she noticed its absence.

Looking at her beautiful face so serene in slumber, I had great difficulty leaving her side. Still, I knew I must go now or I would never be able to protect her from the horrors unknown. Turning to her door, I gently murmured, "God, protect my Christine and the good brothers who are caring for her safety." Lowering my gaze to my feet, unwilling to even glance at her yet again, knowing that in my weakness I would never leave if I did, I whispered; "Good-bye, my love. God willing, I shall soon be back by your side and together we shall be safe. Christine, I love you!"

I slowly pulled myself from her side and quietly closed the door on her sleeping form.

I had done it; I had actually left her room at last. Hearing her softly moan in her slumber, I resolved to finish the journey quickly so I could return to her side with answers and safety to give her. Then it struck me, what would I do if she was not here when I returned? Or worse yet, what if I failed? Suddenly, I realized it had been decades since I had experienced emotion quite like this. Fear. Not since I was a small boy had I felt such an overwhelming fear. It was a crippling sensation, and I could not allow it to draw me in. I had to identify what I was afraid of and free myself from that feeling. It would make the journey dangerous and futile if I did not.

Returning to the monastery as my thoughts collected themselves and weeded out the unwelcome emotions, I was surprised by a presence at the door. Trying not to sound alarmed by his sudden appearance, I remarked, "Good day, Brother Michael. What brings you across my path at this time of day?"

"I hear that you are going to try to find who did this to that … girl. Is that so?"

I nodded my head slowly, looking him straight in the eye as I did so. I wondered again if he might have information on why people wanted Christine dead. Maybe all he was hiding was his knowledge of my drawings and subsequently, my awareness of her existence prior to the accident. He needed to stay away from her. I now wished that I knew when exactly he had come to stay here at the Monastery. That might give me insight where to start looking at his connections. I needed to share my doubts of his integrity with Brother James before departing, to convince him to keep his fellow brother honest and away from my beloved Christine. God help Brother Michael should I find he had any knowledge of the events unfolding regarding Christine's life. I would settle this the only way I knew, then. To hell with promises! If she was in danger, I needed to ensure that Brother James knew this or Brother Michael would find himself hanging from the rafters. There would be no apologies, no warnings, he would be dead and that would be that! I glared at the man and brushed past him.

I hoped that if I could finish this, and return to Christine with news that I had dealt with those responsible, she would then feel free to admit her feelings for me, and maybe we could forge a future together this time. The uncertainty of not knowing if she would feel the same for me once she discovered I was alive was torment. I had to know. Upon the resolution of this heinous crime, I held hope that there would be a chance for us after all. Unless, of course, that foolish man/child the Vicomte de Chagny were to return to her and she decided she wanted him still.

Brother James was waiting for me with the errant Brother Andrew and soon the others gathered around to bid us farewell. I accepted their friendly handshakes and heartfelt prayers for a safe journey, though Brother Michael's reticence seemed apparent only to me. As the brothers dispersed to resume their duties, I pulled Brother James aside.

In a low voice, so as not to be overheard by my travel companion, I voiced my concerns. "Brother James, I am troubled regarding Brother Michael's intentions where our guest is concerned. I need to know when he arrived, where he was from, what he did prior to his arrival here? What do you really know of this man, Brother James?"

Surprised, Brother James replied after a moment's hesitation. "He arrived here two years ago from Paris, though from where in Paris and doing what, I know not. Why do you ask, Erik?"

"I cannot explain my anxiety; however I feel I must warn you that if any of my fears about him are realized, it will be impossible for me to honor my vow not to kill again. I will have no tolerance for any betrayal of Christine. If I discover he has been involved in such a thing, either by telling her of my existence here, or setting the stage for her harm, I shall not be able to contain myself. He will die swiftly by my hand. I apologize, but if you care for the well being of my soul as you claim to, please keep Brother Michael away from her."

It was evident Brother James was taken aback by my words, but to his credit, he recovered quickly. I knew he realized this was not something I would speak of without good reason, so he grappled with the explicit threat behind these words. He seemed relieved that I was talking instead of acting rashly, as I no doubt would have upon my arrival here if this had been placed at my feet at that time?. Maybe his prayers were helping my lost soul ever so slightly.

With an encouraging look, he replied, "Erik, though I have seen little in Brother Michael's behavior to suggest such malfeasance, I will make certain there is no contact between him and Christine. I shall err on the side of safety and keep him otherwise occupied. Rest assured my friend; Christine shall be safe in your absence. Now go."

Remembering the book I had taken from Christine's bedside table, I turned and said; "Christine will need other reading material when she wakes. I feel the volume she had selected is far more suited to a monster such as myself than the innocent angel she is. Perhaps you shall find an excuse for its absence?"

Brother James looked at me with consternation. Reading his expression, I could tell he was thinking; now he had to find her another book and offer a suitable explanation for the disappearance of the first, without lying to her. I imagined he was wondering what else might appeal to a young woman. Being unaccustomed to females, he might find her inherently difficult to please. Feeling sorry for the predicament I had left him with, I offered a suggestion. "Perhaps a volume of poetry would make a good substitute."

Brother James looked at me and relief was apparent in his expression. I shook my head that I would know more about a woman then someone who did not have the curse of my abhorrent looks. The world was certainly teaching me a lesson or two.

Leaving Brother James to his task, Brother Andrew and I grabbed our packs and headed off down the path to the stables to procure a pair of the horses the brothers kept for occasional business travel. The horses were old and would not be able to make it much further than Paris, but I would just leave mine at the livery stables with Brother Andrew when we arrived there, and continue to the Populaire on foot. It was the perfect time of day to leave; late afternoon. We would begin our travels in daylight but enter Paris in the early morning hours. We had to take it slow and rest the horses periodically, but the animals would cut an entire day off of our travels, so it was worth the little extra time to give the animals an occasional break.

I still marveled that it was so long a trip to Paris. It seemed that it was the very afternoon after the chandelier fell at the Populaire that I had arrived at the monastery. Now I wondered just how long I had been out there wandering, lost, angry and plotting unimaginable crimes, before I arrived at this place of possible redemption. I certainly had traveled great lengths in my misery the day I had fallen to pieces before my Christine. No wonder she was sure I had perished. No human could have borne that much pain and not been destroyed by it. Between that and the angry mob descending upon my lair, one of them should have been the end of me, but they had merely mortally wounded without the relief of death. Would I be lucky enough not to endure that pain again this time when I confronted Christine and my love for her?

Only time would tell.