Chapter 8
Antoinette managed to get herself and Christine hidden before she turned to look back at the devastation they had survived. She couldn't see much of the carriage, but what she could showed very little left intact. She imagined what would have happened had they been inside. Her tears ran freely again as she thought of her father's fate. He was her only family.
As she gazed over the site, she saw the men who had been chasing them come upon the accident. They wore the standard agents de police issue, but one was dressed in the uniform of a higher rank. He must be the leader, the commander of the troop. But why would such a high-ranking officer come with them? They must have known about Monsieur Erik. That Christine was the prize they sought never entered her mind.
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Christine sat on the ground, her back against a tree, in agony. Antoinette said her shoulder must be dislocated. She was sure however that it was broken, it hurt so badly. She watched Antoinette, looking for any sign of hope in her friend's face. Instead she saw fear as Antoinette spotted the approaching men.
"Antoinette, do you see anything of Erik? Of your father? Can you tell who the men following are?" fear filling her whisper.
"No Christine." Antoinette's frustration was evident. "I cannot see Monsieur Erik or my father. But the men are les agents de police. One of them is of a high rank. I can only think it is because of Monsieur Erik."
Christine's heart froze. Erik! What would they know of Erik? The whole city should think him dead since the fire. No one could have survived it, according to the reports. But that's not true. Of course, he'd gone back. They would know he'd survived. Oh Erik.
"Antoinette, what else do you see? What are the police doing now? You must be able to see something!"
"Shhh, Christine!" She hissed back. "Something troubles them, I think. The commander looks very upset."
Christine put her head back against the tree, wondering what was happening. Did Erik live? Had they found him? They would surely kill him if they did. She turned her face to Antoinette and her pain paled in comparison to the grief on Antoinette's face.
Please, please Lord, let this not be as terrible as it all appears. Poor Antoinette. Don't let her father be dead. Erik…oh Erik…
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"Que Dalle!" Antoinette hissed. "Christine! It is my father! And monsieur Erik! The police have them. They live…they live…" The tears flowed down her face as she turned to Christine. Though Antoinette's eyes swam, she saw the smile of relief on Christine's face.
"Are they all right Antoinette? Are they hurt? Help me up, I must see."
Antoinette crouched low, to help Christine hobble to her vantage point, where they held each other for support and watched as the scene played out in front of them.
"Antoinette! Erik! He wears a bandage and he is covered in blood! Mon Dieu Antoinette! What will happen to them?"
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The Commander ordered a cursory search of the immediate area, not realizing how close he had come to finding Christine. His men loaded Claude and Erik on one of the horses and two of his men shared another. He glanced at his prisoners as they made their way back to the city, taking care to walk the horses. If the horses did not cool after their flat-out gallop, the Commander would be walking along with the rest of the group. Their long return trip would give him time to think as to why there were two men and no women.
There had been at least one woman, that is sure. Why would they carry a valise with women's clothing if there were not? The bandaged man, could he be a highwayman? Perhaps he stopped them to rob them but found the women more enticing than money…Non! Who would have bandaged his face, unless the two men were working together… The Commander's thoughts ran on this way until they reached the city.
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Claude sat stiff-backed upon the horse. They had removed the saddle to better throw Erik across the horse's back and he now lay in front of Claude, partially resting on his legs. He had not regained consciousness and Claude feared his position might kill him on the ride back. Now however, he could see Erik's erratic breathing and though he worried about his well-being, he set his mind to matters at hand.
So far, so good he thought as he remained close lipped. They think me deaf. Their stupidity works in my favor. What now? They are taking us to the little Bastille. We will have no hope once they have us inside. I must try and prevent that, but how? My ruse will only work for so long I fear. Oh Antoinette my child, you must live. And Christine. If you are dead, better Monsieur Erik should have died too. Your death will surely kill him .
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Christine and Antoinette regained their footing and had been walking for some time. Though their combined injuries required frequent rests, they both knew they must continue. Antoinette limped with the pain in her hip, and Christine cradled her arm in an attempt to keep her shoulder from moving. No woman wished to travel after dark at any time, let alone in the current climate of the country.
After walking about 2 kilometers, they heard something approach from behind. Christine turned to see a plain carriage with a lone coachman and two horses. When he had come within a few meters he stopped and looked carefully at the two women.
"It would appear you have had some trouble and are in need of a ride." He spoke gently and with kindness and Christine smiled in gratitude.
"Oui monsieur. We had a carriage accident quite far back on the road. We are both injured and would be most grateful if you allowed us to ride with you." She watched his face as she spoke. Though old and lined it showed a kindness she was sure must reflect the kindness of his heart. She watched his eyes widen as realization washed over him.
"Bon Dieu! That was your carriage I saw? Mms, of course you may ride. Let me help you."
Christine watched as he climbed down and helped Antoinette into the carriage. Short and wiry, he looked to be a man who had worked hard all his life. But his actions made his concern for them palpable. A wave of gratefulness for this stranger's humanity moved through her. However, when he began to help her he took her arm and she cried out in pain.
"Mademoiselle, I am so sorry! I did not realize…please forgive me." His own pain at causing any to her etched his face.
"You did not know, monsieur. I will be fine." He helped her into the carriage as gingerly as possible. When she was seated she smiled.
"Monsieur, I do not know how far into the city you plan to go. But do you know of the little inn owned by Claude Briguere, in Low Town? If you could take us as close as possible, we would truly be grateful"
"I can do more than that mademoiselle. I can take you to the front door!" A huge grin crossed his face and Christine saw how pleased he was with himself that he could assist them. Christine's however, paled immediately and his grin disappeared.
"Mademoiselle? What is wrong? Is that not what you want?"
"Nothing is wrong, monsieur," she said as she tried to regain her composure "But the back door or the end of the alley would suffice thank you."
For a moment he looked at her quizzically, then she watched realization cross his face and he grinned again.
"They do not check who enters the city. They are only interested in keeping people in. We should have no trouble when we enter. And so, your wish is my command." He bowed with a flourish as he closed the door. Christine felt the carriage's movement as he regained his seat and they began to move. She looked at Antoinette, settled on the seat across from her.
"Once we get back to the inn Antoinette, what will we do?"
Antoinette only stared back at her with complete weariness and a face covered in dirt smudges. Christine had never seen a woman's face so dirty except for makeup when on the stage. The tension of the day finally got the best of Christine and she began to laugh, drawing Antoinette into her uncontrollable mirth. They laughed until they both leaned their heads against their seat and dropped into a fitful sleep.
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As they approached les police headquarters Claude realized they would not be taken to the main prison affectionately known as the Little Bastille by the gendarmes but to the smaller cells housed inside headquarters. A cell in this building might prove to be much easier to escape. I'm sure Monsieur Erik will be able to come up with a plan of some kind. He must, or we are doomed.
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The Commander glared at his prisoners as they approached headquarters. Keeping these two here may give me a better chance at discovering what actually happened. If I can get the information I need, perhaps I can still bring in the little opera girl. No one found her at the scene so she could still be alive. I may still see my promotion come to fruition. The thought made him smile and his day got a little brighter. I may be able to accomplish something here after all! As they came to a halt in front of the building, the Commander began to formulate a plan.
"Get them off the horse and into the building as quickly as possible." He barked. "I want as little attention brought to them as possible. A crowd in this climate only causes trouble."
As the Commander watched, one gendarme dragged Claude off, barely allowing him to keep his footing. Two others pushed Erik to the ground. Although he landed on his back, he didn't move, nor did he seem to breathe. The Commander watched his hopes for promotion once again slip from his hands.
"Kill him before we can question him, and you will all follow him to the grave!" he shouted. His men hurried to jerk Erik off the ground and as they lifted him, the Commander watched him take first one breath, then another until, although it came in ragged starts, he breathed none-the-less. Dragging Erik into headquarters, his toes scuffing along the ground, and two other men pushing Claude ahead of them, they made as much haste as possible into the building.
Entering the foyer, the Commander barked orders at the information officer. He wanted the prisoners taken to a solitary cell. Solitaries were cells with no outside windows and solid doors save for the food slot and examining window. The thick walls kept the prisoners from communicating with each other. With a bit of straw in the corner and a hole in the floor for relief, the cells were damp, odorous, filthy and the least 'hospitable' of all the cells. The commander was sure that, should there be any information to be had, he would get it quickly in exchange for moving them to a slightly less offensive cell.
He watched as the officer led those who were holding Erik and Claude down the hall. Erik had still not regained consciousness, which worried him a bit, but he felt he would be victorious in his endeavor to find the answers he needed. After all, should the man with the bandage die, he could always find a way to get what he wanted from the deaf man. Thinking of those ways warmed him and made him smile…Even if I do not get the information I desire, I will certainly enjoy the efforts to extract it.
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As the door slammed shut behind them, Claude knelt next to Erik and tried to better assess the damage. A single candle lit the dark cell, making Claude's task difficult. Erik sprawled on the straw, tossed there like so much garbage. Claude was furious at their treatment of him, but knew that to show any emotion at all meant his ploy would be for nothing. He intended that they think him deaf, mute and dumb. Perhaps they might speak openly while around him. Information was always a rich tool, and he had become a master at using it through the years he'd worked with Erik. He had been Erik's eyes and ears to the outside world and had honed his craft to perfection.
Removing Erik's makeshift bandage, Claude looked at the gash that ran down the marred side of his face. It was not deep and ironically, probably would leave no scar of its own, but the quantities of blood made it seem much worse than it was. Claude could not understand Erik's failure to regain consciousness. He saw no visible knots, bumps or abrasions about Erik's scalp and worried that the injury might be the type that one doesn't wake from. As he began to probe further Erik's eyes popped open and Claude jumped back in shock.
"Claude, although I have allowed you from time to time, to see me without my mask, I would appreciate it if you would not go poking around."