A warning be to you all. If anyone has even the slightest problem with gay anything, leave now. It's not descriptive, but one of my three main characters is a homo. Homophobes, leave. Really.

And the Dream of Paris Preys on My Bones

Chapter 9: Keep It Gay

"Mercier?" Silence. He inched a bit closer. "Mercier?" Again, no answer. Shrinking back, slightly hurt, he reached out and lightly touched his shoulder, and the man tensed and moved away very quickly, forcefully stating, "Don't touch me, queer!"

Coupeau shrank back, clearly hurt, and ran to Chauvelin's side and latched onto his arm. "Chauvelin, I…I think Mercier hates me…"

"Nonsense. He's merely a bit high strung because he had to share a bed with someone who was probably thinking of him in a more than friendly manner."

Coupeau blushed furiously and gripped Chauvelin's arm tighter, leaning his head against dark man's back. "I…I wasn't…"

More silence, except for Chauvelin's soft humming. Finally having enough of the tense, awkward quiet, Mercier suddenly stopped, shouted, "Chauvelin, why do we keep him around?"

Chauvelin stopped, turned around, and looked at the man in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Coupeau!" he shouted, menacingly pointing a finger at the small boy clinging to Chauvelin's arm and hiding behind his leader with the most hurt expression on his face. "It can't be any good to keep him in the group. What if he does something to us? We might catch what he has!"

Chauvelin rolled his eyes. "Mercier, I doubt that you can catch a nasty case of homosexual. I think he's perfectly safe for us to be around."

"But it's not normal…" Eyes narrowing, he hissed, "I think we should leave him here, just to be safe. He'll only cause problems."

"Oh, come off it, man!" Chauvelin said, highly irritated. "Coupeau's our friend. So long as he doesn't go about trying to hook up with us, he's perfectly fine! And besides, every band of merry men needs a queer in the group."

Mercier sighed, gave up. "Alright. I'm…I'm sorry."

"That is quite alright. The splendor that is I forgives you. Come along now. We have quite the ways to go until we reach Calais."

Coupeau sighed and discretely snuggled against Chauvelin. Smiling happily and looking at him in adoration, he quietly whispered, "Thank you."

"Not a problem at all, my friend. Would you be so kind as to remove yourself from my being?" Coupeau flushed, quickly jumped away and muttered hasty apologies, but Chauvelin only smiled slyly and continued to walk. "Oh, Coupeau? You did know that God hates homosexuals, right?"

He stumbled, quickly caught himself, and firmly stated, "No! God loves all people."

Chauvelin smiled, shook his head. "Not so. It says so in the Bible."

"You lie!"

"I've read it. Have you?"

Coupeau, turned his eyes to the ground, said nothing, and the ebony-haired boy grinned triumphantly. "I don't believe you, Chauvelin," Coupeau said meekly.

"Says so in Romans 9:13. 'And the Lord descendeth upon the homosexuals, and said, "Thou art a bunch of queers, and I hate thee." And then he struck them with a stick of two cubits of length.' That's what it says."

Coupeau stared at the smug looking boy in utter shock and, shaking terribly, muttered, "Why, God? Why?"

"And that is why you should believe me when I say that I'm better than your stupid religion. I like you. God doesn't. That makes me better. Thou shall love thy queer friends. That's my third commandment."

Coupeau threw himself at Chauvelin feet and grabbed on to his leg. "What have I been doing my entire life?"

"Following the wrong set of rules." He pried the boy off his leg and helped him to his feet, placed his hands on his shoulders and said, "Better now?"

Coupeau slowly nodded his head. "Does God really hate me?"

"He would if there was one. Good thing he's made up, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess…" Coupeau said quietly, instinctively moving closer to Chauvelin. They walked a little while down the road in silence, but it was short lived as they soon came by a cart at the side of the road and a family sitting beside it, seemingly taking lunch. Ever seizing the opportunity to get new things, Chauvelin stomped over to the people and stood before them, Mercier and Coupeau following closely behind. The man looked up at the boy, pulling back his wide brimmed hat so that he could see him, and cheerfully greeted, "Shalom!"

Chauvelin reeled back; that was most certainly not French. Forgetting whatever wits he had, he cried, "Oh my God, what are you?"

The man was a bit shocked at the boy's outburst, and he slowly said, "We are but travellers on our way to England to set sail for America."

"We are but filthy plebeians on our way to Calais so I can learn English and so we may pick up some women." He paused. "Or men, as it were."

The entire group simultaneously yelled, "Unclean!" and the children hid behind their mother.

This, naturally, irritated Chauvelin. "What the devil is wrong with you people?"

The man shook his finger at the boy, careful to keep a distance from him. "Don't you know the Torah says that it's an abomination to lay with a man?"

Coupeau hid behind Chauvelin, blushing, and the dark man waived his hand in dismissal. "Oh, come off it. Who cares? So long as they're happy, right?" Staring at the stunned man, he quickly added, "And what's a Torah?"

Pulling himself together, the man quickly said, "It's the holy book of the Jewish people."

"What? You're Jews? No wonder you're odd! Are you rich?" The man stuttered to say something, but Chauvelin went on without a care to the man. "Because I'm rich too! And I can read, and I'm smart enough to know there is no God, so that makes me better than you." Digging through his pockets, he held out a small chip of something to the man. "That's part of the hoof of the pig we killed this morning for breakfast. You may have it."

"Unclean!" shouted the children.

"Quite, you!" Chauvelin growled.

"You can't eat pork! God will scorn you for that!" the man cried.

"Oh? I really don't think God cares what we had for breakfast. Wouldn't he care more that our merry little band doesn't believe in Him and one of us sleeps with men?"

"Unclean!" shouted the children.

"Oh, sod off!" Chauvelin snapped, grabbing Mercier and Coupeau's arms and dragging them away. When the cart and the family were out of sight, Chauvelin quietly said, "You know, I don't think I quite like Jews."

"No?" Mercier asked. "Why not?"

"I don't know. It might have been that the children were terribly annoying, but I think it's because I don't like his hat."

Coupeau nodded. "It was not a sexy hat."

"No, no. Not at all like mine in the least!" Chauvelin stated proudly, puffing his chest and holding his head higher.

They had never seen anything quite like Calais in their lives, and for a long while, they feared to enter the city. It was big. It was busy. It smelled like fish. But still, the three boys gathered up their courage and walked past the guard and into Calais. It really was not a very big town, more of a fishing village and dock more than anything else, but it was still far bigger than anything the country raised boys had ever seen in their lives.

They wandered about aimlessly for a small while until Chauvelin snapped out of his stupor and ordered the boys about; they needed a place to stay, as he had decided that he quite liked the city, and he was well intent on staying here for a while.

He had finally managed to find a small dwelling that suited their purposes, and paying a mere fifteen francs to the family that lived there, they vacated and Chauvelin, Mercier, and Coupeau had themselves a home, thankfully this time with three separate beds in three separate rooms, which pleased Chauvelin in the highest sense of the word; the conditions were quite well suited for his womanizing escapades that he had so planned to engage in.

They sat in what they called the common room, all three exhausted and drinking some wine that they had found in the cupboard. Yawning slightly and stretching, Chauvelin stood up and said tiredly, "To bed now, boys. We have to get up early."

"Why?" Mercier whined. He wasn't much of a morning person.

Grinning as evilly as he could manage, being as tired as he was, he quietly said, "Because tomorrow morning is Sunday, and we're going to go to church."

Both boys stared at him in disbelief, and knowing better than to question the boy, Mercier stood up. "Right then. Good night. I shall see you in the morning."

But Coupeau was not ready to accept this. As Mercier left the room and he heard the door close, Coupeau jumped up and in a frightened tone asked, "Why, Chauvelin? God hates me, remember?"

"God's not real, Coupeau. Don't worry about a thing."

He placed his face in his hands and whimpered slightly. "I have been with a man, Chauvelin. That's much worse than being with a woman. He is going to be angry that I go into His holy place…"

"Coupeau. Not real. Get a life. He can't hurt you. I just want to see what it's like so I can better mock people." Chauvelin shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe you'll meet someone there."

"But, Chauvelin, I…" He swallowed, clutched his hands together. "I don't want to meet anyone…"

"What? Coupeau, don't be an idiot. We're going to be here a while, and it would do you well to find yourself a lover. Heaven knows that your variety is hard to come by, so you may want to start looking now." The pale yellow eyes widened in surprise as the auburn-haired child quickly moved from where he was to stand before him, and before he knew what was happening, Coupeau's lips were on his own.

Pulling away slowly, Coupeau looked at the shocked child in adoration, smiling softly and lightly running a finger over his cheek. "I don't want anyone else but you, Chauvelin," the green-eyed boy said softly. "You protect me, and you're everything I wish I could be, and I love you for it…"

"Coupeau, I…" Sighing and closing his eyes, Chauvelin removed the boy's hand from his cheek. "Stop. I can't love you. Not like you want me to. You are my friend, Coupeau, nothing more, and it's never going to change."

He sighed, his entire being awash with disappointment, and looked at the ground. "I know, Chauvelin…"

He stared intently at the boy and, just in case there was any doubt, he plainly stated, "I like the ladies."

"I know, Chauvelin…"

He sighed, placed his hands on the boy's shoulders. "We're making a new rule, Coupeau. You can be completely queer with anyone you like, but not me. Hell, go after Mercier for all I care, but not me. I am exclusively at the disposal of the women."

"I'll always love you…"

He gently hit him upside the head. "Then if you must express it, do it in words and know I will never return your sentiments." He nudged the boy in the direction of the bedrooms. "Get you to bed. We're up early to cause a riot."

Slowly walking toward the room, he sighed, turned around, tried several times to speak but faltered. He finally managed to choke, "I love you, Chauvelin."

He smiled slightly at the desperate yearning in those large green eyes and gently whispered, "Good night, Coupeau." With that, the boy sadly nodded and was off. Sighing slightly, he muttered, "What a mess," before blowing out the candles and going to his own room to rest for the evening.