Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.
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Chapter Ten
The nuns were very accommodating. Christine knew she was in good hands. Father Rapier was right, a warm salt bath took away most of her pain and fatigue. Washing away all the blood, sweat and grime, she considered herself lucky for escaping that unspeakable place with her life. If Erik had not been there she knew, in her heart, she would be dead by now. Meg's depravity had consumed her. Christine could only hope that Erik would be able to help her friend. Growing up, they were like sisters. Meg would have given her anything. Christine acknowledged to herself that she truly was a selfish creature who hoarded things to herself. It was only after her success on stage that she even admitted to Meg that she had been receiving lessons. A true friend, she reasoned, would have shared what she had been taught. Meg had a right to be angry with her.
The ointment they used to dress her wounds burned ferociously. The pain, Christine knew, was a small price to pay. She was given a linen nightgown and shown to a small bedroom in the eastern corridor of the dormitory. The supple cushion of the mattress billowed around her tired body. It was unlike any comfort she had ever felt. Her body was grateful for the chance to recuperate after her adventure. Gentle humming of chimes seeped into the room. It helped to put her more at ease. Christine pulled her blanket to her nose and said a small prayer before succumbing to a deep sleep.
There were no windows in the small room, so Christine had no idea what time of day it was when she awoke the following morning. She was greeted by a small breakfast tray that had been laid beside her bed. She inhaled deep into her chest, letting it go slowly. "Everything will be fine," she said to herself. Soon after placing the tray in her lap, she attacked her meal with frenzy. Tossing manners to the side, Christine could not remember food tasting this good. The eggs were cooked to her exact liking and melted on her tongue. The salted pork had a crisp shell, which had been seared on to perfection. The robust meal gave Christine the start that she needed.
The nuns replaced her bandages and Christine was relieved to see their medicine working so quickly. Her wounds were looking better but her body still ached with fatigue. She was about to ask for another bath before the nun interrupted her, "Father Rapier requests that you visit him in his chambers." Since her clothes were still being washed, she settled for the somber robes that had been lain out for her.
She took a moment in the novena to light a candle for her mother and father. Quietly, she prayed for forgiveness and asked for their guidance. She realized too late how fortunate she was in life. She promised them that if she were able to make amends for her sins, she would be a loyal and loving wife and mother. As she got up to leave, something made her turn back. Perhaps it was guilt or remorse, but, lighting another candle, she asked for Meg to be freed from the demons that tormented her.
Christine demurely knocked on the giant walnut doors. "Enter!" She heard, muffled, from the other side. Father Rapier was taking notes from the largest Bible Christine had ever seen. He looked up cheerfully as she entered, "Ah! Good morning, my dear! I trust you slept well," Father asked, "As could be managed."
"Yes, Father, thank you," was all Christine could whisper.
"One moment," he whispered with great effort. His face was contorted as he hurriedly finished the last of his writing. "There!" he cried out finishing with a dramatic flourish, "I just hate stopping in the middle of a great thought. This will be one my better sermons, I think. You should stop in if you get the chance!" He looked up excitedly at Christine. "Where are my manners? Please, have a seat."
Christine obliged. "Father, I know what you are about to say, and - "
"Let me stop you before you dig yourself too deep of a hole," Father Rapier interrupted. "You could not know, for I myself do not know what this conversation will lead to. I will say, however, that you got yourself in a right mess, but then, that's why you are here, isn't it?" Christine simply nodded. "Right, then. Now I do not know why you traveled back to that opera house. I may have a fairly good idea, but it is not my duty to reprimand you of it. I imagine that you have done that to yourself too many times to count these past hours." Christine only looked down into her lap, refusing him eye contact. "Now, you know why Erik brought you here, but I doubt you know why I asked you to visit with me today."
"No, Father, I do not know. I assumed you desired me to give Confession," Christine said.
"Well, that is between you and God, and the church will always be here if you decide to repent your sins to Him. You will find that I am not the type of priest that drives fear into the hearts of God's children. I, instead try to show you his love and compassion. It is God's mercy in the end that saves us all. There are people out there, not unlike Erik, that need to know that even in the darkest times, there is hope. I feel that Erik has come a long way, but still has farther to go. His salvation, I fear, will only come with learning how to forgive."
"Father, I think, in many ways, Erik has learned to forgive himself. He told me many times in the few brief moments we spent together of the redemption of his acts."
"Yes, he sees the error in his ways. And, yes I do believe that he forgives himself of them, but that is not the forgiveness I talk about here," he said reproachfully.
Christine was puzzled, "I don't understand."
He seemed to ponder whether or not to ask. With great hesitation he finally finished, "How much do you know of Erik's past?"
Christine thought a moment. The only story she ever heard about Erik was from Raoul. Even then, it was only a recount of how Madame Giry found Erik. "Only that he was treated very poorly as child. Horribly, in fact, by a Gypsy circus. Madame Giry rescued him after her was accused of killing his master. That is how he came to live in the Opera Populaire. He grew up watching the plays and began tormenting the actors and singers. The rest became my own story. I assume he has told you the rest."
"Yes, my child. He has. But how is it that a young child would ever come to be an attraction at a freak show? How could his mother, any mother allow their child to be publicly humiliated and ridiculed by perfect strangers all for the sake of entertainment?" Father Rapier asked inquisitively. After a few moments of silence, he finished his thought, "He will never seek acceptance of himself without confronting the person who started all of this. He needs to know why his life has been steered in this direction. You see, Erik needs to forgive the very person who abandoned him so many years ago. Ultimately he holds her responsible for everything horrible that has happened to him. Even if he does not realize it now."
"His mother," Christine whispered.
"Yes, his mother," he reaffirmed. "Erik has a great fear of rejection. I tried numerous times, unsuccessfully, to help Erik reenter society. I feel that he could add great, many things to this world. But he chooses to live in recluse, away from anyone or anything that isn't in his control. See, even with you, he is safe. He still controls you."
"With all due respect, Father," Christine scoffed indignantly, "In so uncertain terms do I give him the power to control me anymore! I put that behind me. Erik has, too. What we shared was, simply put, love for one another."
"Again, you misrepresent my intentions here. I have no desire to learn what - transpired - between the two of you. But I must ask. What does a distinguished lady and her former master have in common other than control? Hmm?" He started pacing around the room. "For the sake of argument, let's say, 'Yes!' it is love that brought you two together again. It is not the act of love itself that drives two people together against all issues of rationality and responsibility. The mere fact that you have come here to be with Erik, and not your husband, that proves, in many degrees, that you still allow Erik to control your actions. His power, his passion for life, lures you in. It makes you see aspects of your life that may make it seem that your life is devoid of meaning without him in it." He looked at Christine deeply, "You give him the power to decide your happiness and contentment."
Christine sat in stunned silence. Without ever meeting him before, Father Rapier was able to see her true intentions and exploit them for her to see. Even now, as she promised God Himself to return to her family untainted, she insistently justified her feelings for Erik. The priest was right, though she thought she had escaped her Angel's thwarting grasp, Erik had continued to possess her thoughts and actions. Collecting her thoughts, she merely said, "You are right, Father." Tears began watering in her eyes as she thought of Raoul standing faithfully beside her all these years. "He still controls my heart. My mind. Everything that I have ever known about me."
Father Rapier gave this moment enough time to sink into Christine. "It is time to let go of him. For both your sakes." He walked behind her and gently place his hands on her shoulders. "You need to believe that you alone have the power to determine your happiness, with God's help."
"Erik was right," Christine said in a daze before turning to look up at him, "You are very good counsel. I can see why he puts so much faith in you."
"Well, that's simple my dear. It's because I put so much faith into God. I am simply His messenger." Father Rapier sat back at his desk. "All the same, I thought you might be able to help Erik in this revelation I am trying to create for him."
"I do not think that it is wise that Erik and I should meet again, Father," Christine said discouragingly.
"No, I do not advise that you do. I am an old man, now. And the research I am looking for is beyond my capabilities. I dare not leave the church now, save for a few 'replenishing' endeavors I have taken upon myself to make," he said winking at Christine. "What I need now is beyond the scope of Paris, and I do not trust anyone else to be discriminate with their findings. Somehow, I think with you will serve that need perfectly."
"I will try my best, Father. But I do not know how much help I could be. I, too, resort to staying near my estate. While I know Raoul would not have a problem, his society acquaintances might frown upon anything outside of the 'norm' for wives of dignitaries," Christine answered.
"That will have to do, for now," the priest replied, exhausted. "You see, a year ago I was serving Confession when a peculiar gentleman entered the chamber. From the small glimpse I had of him, he was dressed in outlandish clothing and sporting a twisted cloth on top of his head - not exactly the dress one sees in a church of Our Lord." Father Rapier pursed his index fingers to his mouth. "He had a strange accent as well. Now, normally, I do not share information of my congregants to other parishioners, but this one might be of particular interest to you.
He simply said one word, 'Yessinia.' When I told him that it was a language I didn't understand, he stated, 'Her name is Yessinia. She is the woman you seek.' When I peered down through the holes, his black rimmed eyes took my attention.
'Who are you?' I demanded to know.
He looked around and said, 'We share a mutual friend. I understand that you have been looking for her. I alone know her name and I share it with you now.' When I asked for his name again, he said, 'People know me simply as - '"
"'The Persian,'" Christine finished. "He was a loyal and faithful attender. He was seldom seen, however. It was rumored later that he was one of the few who could validate Erik's existence. In fact, I tried to find him before setting out the theater."
"Ah! So he does exist!" Father Rapier cheerfully cried out. "Well, he left before I had a chance to ask any more questions and I have not seen him since."
"But Father, I still do not understand. Who is Yessinia?" Christine asked before she made the connection. "It couldn't be. How could he have even known?"
"Erik's mother. Yes, I thought it was strange as well. It seems that 'The Persian' served as Erik's confidant as well."
"But how could Erik have even known who she was? He was so young and I thought - " Christine was stopped before she could finish.
"He was nearly the age of nine, past the age of innocence and naivety. I imagine Erik knew a great deal about his past from the troupe he traveled with, even if it is not entirely true.," he sighed deeply.
"At the last Carnival I sought out to find as much information as I could in hopes that the same troupe traveled here year after year. It seemed God was on my side. Yessinia, I learned, was a dancer for the shows, luring men in to spend their money. I was told that she was quite beautiful and attracted many followers. She had a unique trait that not many Romanians possess - her eyes glowed green. That made her indispensable to the show. So at the age of eleven, Yessinia was forced to seduce men into emptying their pocketbooks. She was a commodity that brought in a great deal of money.
It was said that the son of a noble man found particular interest in her. He was over twice her age and already married with a child on the way. He paid Yessinia's uncle an ample amount of money and she was left to his own twisted devices. She gave birth to her son at the tender age of thirteen. Apparently, she had tried to rid herself of the child using alternate methods, but the salves she drank left damages to her son that could not be undone. I do not doubt, however, that she did not love her son. On the contrary, I think she loved him more than he'll ever know. Her love for him was so great that she was forced to cover his face to avoid the ridicule of her family and friends. She wanted to spare him the torment. She was young, though. Impressionable.
Her uncle eventually took the boy for his own profit. The mother tried to reclaim him, but he was already born a bastard. She had no real claim to him since he was illegitimate. Those children are forced to do the bidding of the patriarch. You know the rest of the story."
Christine was in tears. "So the man Erik killed was, in fact . . ."
"His uncle, yes. Knowing that this Yessinia was real, I went to find her whereabouts. They do not take too kindly to clergymen. Before I was asked to leave, I saw a Tarot booth. Posted above was a sign that read 'Mama Nia's Readings.' Slumped, resting on the side of the door was an woman who was well-withered and worn, but, even from a distance, you could see her green eyes shining from across the courtyard."
"You mean?" Christine asked in wonderment.
Father Rapier nodded his head, "His mother is still alive and well and has no idea that her son, Erik, is still alive, too."