Chapter 7
When the guard at the checkpoint changed, the commander came out, surprising the gendarme who had taken Christine's papers. What can he possibly want with any of us? Arrogant bastard! He never gives us the time of day! Why now?
The commander strutted to his men, as self-important as ever, but with a look of anger on his face.
"I was informed this morning that one of our local sots claims to have seen our kidnapped opera singer."
The gendarme looked at him with innocence.
"And how would that pertain to us, sir?" he asked, with what he hoped was just the right amount of humility in his voice. The commander looked him up and down, a sneer marring his face.
"What that would have to do with you, man, is that one of the deskmen took the information offered yesterday as a joke! No one thought to notify me until this morning. Since we are treating it as the kidnapping it appears to be, I want to know if anyone who has been through this checkpoint has raised your suspicions. Has anyone come through who might have fit her description?"
The gendarme noted the commander's accusatory look, aimed at himself. I have done nothing to warrant this he thought. Why would he pick on me?
"Non, commander. Only those traveling on normal business." He thought of the Baronesse knowing she hadn't come through on business, and a smile touched the corners of his mouth.
"That is all? No one out of the ordinary? No one who might fit this description?" He produced an exact likeness of Christine from his breast pocket. The gendarme gasped. Exquisitely rendered, the line drawing portrayed her face exactly as he had seen it earlier in the day. Gulping back his astonishment, he looked at his commander, wide-eyed and anxious.
"Oui commander. I did see that woman pass here. I have a copy of her papers right here, sir." He quickly thumbed through the stack on his little table.
"Oui! I have found it! But this was not an opera singer sir. This was a Baronesse. I saw no reason to detain her sir. She seemed…she seemed authentic!"
"Fool! I am surrounded by fools! Was she alone? Who was driving her carriage?"
The gendarme briefly remembered her treatment of him and his anger got the best of him.
"Now that I think about it sir, her carriage was in great disrepair. And she had two servants traveling with her though her papers were only for her and no one else."
"Get me six good men and the fastest horses you have here. How long a head start do they have?"
"Several hours by now, sir. They passed by here early this morning."
The commander threw his hands up in exasperation. Grabbing the gendarme by his collar, he looked him in the eye.
"You had better hope we can catch them man, or it will be your head in the noose!"
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Claude pushed the horses to their limits as they raced down the road in their attempt to outrun the authorities, but to no avail. Each bend in the road brought the pursuers that much closer to them. He estimated no more than 3 kilometers separated them now. Erik had climbed back into the carriage at Claude's insistence. He told Erik that he could handle the horses better without company, thank you very much, and shoved him off the seat before Erik had a chance to protest. Christine and Antoinette looked at Erik with unmasked fear. He knew both must be afraid they would perish at any moment. He had faced death without fear many times and would do so now. Would he win this time as well? He feared not the loss of his life but of his Christine. The thought constricted his heart and brought him the only true fear he'd ever known.
The carriage bounced harder with each passing kilometer and tossed its occupants about as well. Christine hit her head a second time and Antoinette had sustained a large gash on her arm when she connected with the door handle. Erik had tried to pull them both to him in an attempt to steady them all, but it proved futile. The carriage rattled too badly for him to hold even his own seat. Both women screamed as Erik shouted to them.
"We must abandon our carriage and make a – " but his shout was cut of by the sound of the carriage breaking apart.
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Completely lathered, the horses showed their fatigue. Claude had a devil of a time keeping the carriage in the middle of the road and the pain in his arms grew worse with each jerk of the reins. As he peered past the horses he spied what he feared most. A huge depression crossed the road from side to side. Seeing no way to bypass it, and not knowing how deep it was, he could only pray the carriage would hold.
They hit it head on each wheel sinking as the carriage passed through almost to the hub. The horses were fast enough to clear the hole, but their jump tore the reins from his hands, as their harness broke free of the carriage. Grabbing at the seat, he heard the crack and felt the repaired wheel rip from its hub. For an instant the momentum of the carriage kept it upright. In a surreal vision he watched the horses fly off in a flat gallop. Then the carriage hit another rut. Claude pushed himself free of his seat as the carriage began its side-over-side spiral across the road and into the brush. He landed on his face, as he tumbled through the rubble at the opposite side of the road, he caught a brief flash of the carriage as it continued to flip over and over into the brush across from him.
Claude pushed to his feet but as he forged across the road his ankle gave way. It must be broken. No matter now. I must see... He got to his feet again, this time limping to where the carriage entered the brush. It lay about 15 meters in, on its side and half broken. Claude hobbled to the side, trying to discern if anyone inside still lived. God, please…Antoinette…He stood looking for some time before looking around the area. He spied Erik not far from the carriage. His mask had flown off and his face was covered in blood. Claude approached him with trepidation. Surely, he must be dead, there's so much blood. When he knelt and reached for him, he found that Erik had a pulse and was breathing. A huge gash in his forehead flowed freely. He tore a piece of Erik's already ripped shirt, folded it and pressed it to his head. Gently shaking his shoulder he tried to get Erik to wake enough to hold the shirt himself.
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Erik's eyes fluttered and he fought the urge to close them forever. The insistent shaking brought him slowly but reluctantly back. He looked into Claude's face and memory came pouring back to him. Their flight, the noise, the spinning…he tried to get to his feet but his head swam with the effort.
"Monsieur, lay still. I must…my daughter…Christine."
He turned from Erik and once again, scanned the area. Erik grunted and laid his head back on the ground. The look on Claude's face spoke volumes. Oh, Christine…Erik's heart began to pound with the knowledge that she must be…
"Claude," he rasped, "does she live? Please! Tell me she lives."
Claude turned to him, tears streaming down his face. "I don't know monsieur. They are not there. They are gone!"
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Christine and Antoinette clung to one another as the carriage broke apart. At the first flip, they were thrown together out the door and landed several meters from the carriage's final resting place. Antoinette was the first to gain her senses. Sitting up, she felt every bump and bruise she would soon show. Her first thought was of her father. Is he alive? She spied Christine a meter or so from her and crawled to her. Her eyes were closed and her arm was turned at a frightening angle. Dear God!
"Christine. Christine! You must wake. We need to get out of here…Christine!"
Antoinette grasped Christine's hand and began to rub it roughly, hoping the contact would revive her. Please Christine. You have to get up. We're in danger if we stay!
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Christine moaned and began to stir. She tried to move her arms to sit, but her right arm wouldn't work and the pain in her shoulder was almost unbearable. It brought her awake with a start. Looking up at the sky, it took her a moment but her memory flooded back.
Chased. We were chased. The bouncing. The spinning…Oh God…NO! She grabbed Antoinette with her good arm, the pain flaring in her damaged shoulder.
"Antoinette…the carriage…falling…Erik! Where's Erik!"
The panic and fear in her voice increased Antoinette's own but she knew they must find a place to hide as soon as possible.
"Christine, I will help you up. Do you think you can walk? We must hide, now."
"Yes, I think I can walk, but my shoulder…there is so much pain. Erik! What of Erik? I must find him, he has to be all right."
"Christine, we have no time. My father is out there as well, but we must go and pray that God will watch over them. Come, please!"
Antoinette helped Christine to her feet, put Christine's good arm over her shoulder and together, they moved as quickly as possible through the brush. Christine glanced over her shoulder, her heart aching for some knowledge of Erik's condition. Antoinette kept her eyes forward, tears running down her face, knowing where her father had been seated, he must surely be dead.
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Erik's head swam. Had he heard Claude correctly? Not there? What does he mean not there? Oh Christine…don't… die…Christine… As he lost consciousness once again, Christine's face looked down on him and he watched her smile as she faded away.
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The horses pounded the road with so much force that to anyone within earshot it sounded like thunder. The sound reflected the Commanders emotions as they raced after the carriage. The opera singer! He let her slip past without any thought to it. The gendarme who let them pass had said she acted exactly like any other titled lady would act toward him. He had no reason to suspect anything other than what he saw.
"No Commander, there were only three. A man driving and a woman with her in the coach. I thought she was a servant sir."
Upon further questioning, the gendarme revealed that both the man and the girl were clothed in normal street attire, not the uniform one would expect from household servants.
Servant! Thought the bewildered Commander. Where do they find so many men with no brains to be the protectors of our city?
"No sir, she did not look as if there was anything out of the ordinary…Yes sir, she did look nervous but I thought it was because she was so young…No sir, I really didn't get a look at the driver and no one else paid attention to him either."
God save me from the 'thinking' gendarme! They spurred the horses on, soon spying their prey. The rising cloud of dust a few kilometers ahead, gave the Commander hope that they were not too late. Driving the horses as hard as possible, he knew they would have to overtake the carriage eventually. He hoped that would be before the horses dropped from exhaustion. To liberate the little opera girl would mean much for his promotion prospects and he intended to go far on the force. In fact, to the top, if possible. She would be the stepping-stone he needed to do just that.
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Claude heard the approaching horses and knew he hadn't much time. He scouted the area as much as his ankle would allow, but saw no sign of either girl. When he returned to Erik, he said,
"Monsieur Erik, you must try to stay awake and get up. We must leave. I fear it is the gendarme that approach with such speed."
He could see Erik making an attempt to rise, but each time Erik lifted his head, he would moan Christine's name as his eyes rolled back in his head. Claude knew now, there was no hope of escape for either of them. He had pledged Erik his life the night Erik had returned Antoinette to them. He told Angelique that Erik would be their responsibility for as long as they lived. He would not betray that pledge now.
He had little time and a useless ankle. There were bits and pieces of clothing scattered about the area but he couldn't do anything about that now. He had no idea what to say about the women's clothing, but he would think of something. His worst fear was Erik's safety now. He had no idea where Antoinette and Christine were. He could only hope they had heard the horses and had escaped as best they could. He seated himself at Erik's head, cradling it in his lap. Pressing the cloth once again to Erik's wound, he prayed that God would give them all a measure of safety as he devised a possible chance for them.
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It didn't take the gendarme long to overtake the two men. One look at the scene told them they had missed more than just a bit of the story involved. Clothing of all types lay strewn about, including women's items. The carriage was a disaster, the horses were gone and there were two men where two women and a man should be!
What is this? He thought as he saw his hopes for promotion disappear before his eyes. Could this situation get any worse? He ordered the two men up on their feet. When Claude failed to move he had his men assist them. Two officers had no trouble lifting Claude, but Erik was another matter. Intimidating in stature when awake, unconscious, he was dead weight. Three of the other men dragged him up off the ground trying to support him in front of the commander. A piece of a woman's underskirt wound around Erik's head and he was covered in blood. The Commander did his best to elicit a response, but knew already, judging from the blood loss, that it would fail. The Commander turned his glare on Claude. He motioned for the gendarme at the checkpoint to come closer and look at both men.
"Well? Are either of these the coachman? Take a good look now, don't want another mistake made." His sarcasm stung the gendarme as he looked closely at both men.
A bandage covered one man's face, but he studied Claude carefully. He shook his head regretfully.
"Non, Commander. I cannot say he is or isn't. I…ahem…never really got a good look at him sir."
"You mean to tell me, as your job to inspect each carriage passing the checkpoint, you didn't look at the passengers or drivers? Or was it the woman in this particular carriage who evaporated your brain? Can you at least tell me for sure if this is the carriage you inspected?"
"Commander, there isn't enough of it left to tell. I do not know."
The Commander watched the man shrink before his eyes. He knew there would be no information forth-coming and wished with all his heart he were dragging him to the Bastille instead of the two in custody. Accident or no, there were too many unanswered questions and they needed detaining. The Bastille would be a good choice for them both.
The Commander eyed Claude angrily.
"What is going on here? Who are you? Who is this man?" He waited for an answer but none came.
"Did you not hear me? Who are you!" Again he waited for an answer. All he could get from Claude was a blank stare.
"What are you? Deaf?" When there was still no answer, the reality of the situation dawned on him. No wonder I'm getting no response. Claude continued to stare at the Commander blankly as if he had no idea what the man wanted. The Commander threw his hands in the air in frustration.
"Tie them both, throw them on one of your horses, and let's get back to the city with our prizes before nightfall."