CHAPTER 9 – Way home


Vadim Kiselev - „Avec le Vent", "Way to home"


14. July 1789

- I can't believe we met in such a place - Oscar sighed in disbelief, looking at Rosalie sitting next to her

The girl didn't even look up, but patiently sewed the wound that ran along Oscar's arm, down to the elbow bone. The wound was deep and bleeding profusely, so sewing it together required a great deal of skill and concentration. Oscar at that time looked around her. The room in which she was placed was a small cell with no windows. From behind the crumbling door, she could see that there was a long corridor right next to it, from which other rooms could be accessed. The makeshift hospital was just an ordinary Parisian tenement house, one whose best years were long gone. Great flakes of paint peeled off the walls, and the plank floor was rotting and creaking with every step. There was a smell of blood and death in the air, which was not particularly strange considering what was happening in Paris recently.

Rosalie finished sewing, then washed the wound with a cloth plentifully soaked in alcohol. Oscar hissed in pain, but then looked curiously at the now visible stitching.

- That looks great! - she rejoiced - Where did you learn it?

- I was born in Parisian slums, Oscar - the other replied with a grim smile - When you grow up in a place like this, you have to learn a lot of practical things. How to survive a week with just one slice of bread. Or how to come home after a night shift so that you don't get murdered or raped. Or how to sew wounds if you can't afford to see a doctor. Paris is a real survival school! And if you also have a revolutionary as a husband.. - she laughed, wrapping Oscar's arm with a makeshift bandage

- Really? - Oscar asked with interest - Did you get married?

- I did - Rosalie smiled, flushing a little - Recently we celebrated our second wedding anniversary. Now my name is Chatellet. - she added proudly

- Chatellet? - Oscar gasped with surprise - Like Bernard Chatellet, this journalist from Nouvelles de Paris?

- He is my husband - the girl confirmed, looking at her attentively - I did not expect that.. you know this kind of newspaper..

Oscar felt her head humming. She took a few long breaths to calm herself.

- I talked to your husband once, last year, before the States General was summoned- she replied - I asked him.. about Andre. But he didn't want to talk with me. He said he didn't know anything.

Rosalie met her eyes for a moment, then looked away. Now she understood who was the soldier asking about Andre that her husband had been telling her about.

- Why did you ask Bernard about Andre? - she asked in a strange voice - What can the two have in common?

Oscar felt a familiar feeling of impatience, but she choked it down.

- Rosalie - she said seriously - Andre, nanny, and my son are gone, and I can't find them. I was at their house after they left and I found a lot of draft newspaper articles, all written by Andre. I bought copies of every newspaper that was published during the year before their disappearance. Only in the newspaper your husband works for did I find articles that are like the copies of the sketches I have. Louis Roturier, that's his nickname, right? - she asked, but the girl did not answer - When there was no article in every newspaper since his disappearance, I was convinced.. - Oscar's voice began to break - I was sure that my father's soldiers killed him. But last fall, Louis Roturier's name reappeared under one of the articles. Then I went to the editorial office and was referred to your husband. But I didn't find out anything. Rosalie.. Just tell me if Andre is really alive and if everyone is well.. Please..

Rosalie sat for a moment, clearly hesitating.

- Andre is alive - she said finally - They're fine, so you don't have to worry.

- Thank God! - Oscar sighed in relief, then smiled faintly - Thank you, Rosalie.

- But I really can't tell you more - the girl added in a serious voice - Andre forbade me to tell anyone where they are.

- Not even me?

- He didn't mention you at all - Rosalie replied, a little too honestly

Oscar felt a twinge of pain in her heart. Actually, she didn't know where this disillusionment came from. So many years have passed. Why would Andre still care for her?

- You probably won't believe me - Oscar said - but since they disappeared, I tried my best to find them. I've been to every place that somehow related to them. I've talked to so many people, but everyone told me the same. "I don't know". You can't imagine how many times in the last year and a half I've heard that phrase. I didn't find out anything.

Oscar was telling the truth. On that October night, she promised herself that she would do anything to find the baby and Andre. She was determined but not stupid. She had known her father all her life and knew that he was as stubborn as she was. After all, she inherited this trait from him. His threats should therefore be taken with absolute seriousness and should not be given any pretext for reckless actions. So all winter she pretended to be a good daughter. In the morning she went to work, in the evening she went home straight away and was never going anywhere. Meanwhile, she searched the old rooms of nanny and Andre, and all the things they had left, packed and carefully hidden in the attic. However, there was no address or other information that might be of use. Oscar found only Andre's baptism certificate, which she then hid in a place under the floor for later inspection.

In early January, the number of troops on her tail had decreased from four to two. After another two months, only one soldier followed her, and that was the moment Oscar waited for. Courtesy of her deputy, Captain Girodelle, she traveled for an hour or two to Paris during the service. Fortunately, Girodelle never asked why she was doing this. He only agreed with his natural kindness, and Oscar felt she could trust him.

Following Andre's baptismal certificate, she found the place where he was born and the house where the Grandiers lived until their death in the sixties. Unfortunately, most people who could still remember them were either dead or moved out. Oscar met only one woman who did not answer "I don't know" to her questions. From her, she learned that Andre's grandparents already lived in this district, and that his entire family was from Paris. Andre's father and grandfather were merchants. Unfortunately, Oscar did not manage to reach any of Andre's relatives, and Grandier's store was closed for a long time. What she learned about Nanny turned out to be more interesting in terms of research. Marie Glace came from the provinces to Paris in the 40s and moved to a neighboring tenement house with her teenage daughter. In such the easiest way Andre's parents met. Soon Marie found a job at the de Jarjayes manor as a maid, and she moved there. The woman Oscar spoke to was her longtime friend, and she remembered very well how Marie's daughter Anabelle would come to Paris from the manor near Versailles to meet Jacques, the young son of the Grandiers. Then they got married and moved into the Grandier family's apartment. The woman fondly remembered a little boy running around the yard with sticks instead of swords. "Such a tragedy" - she sighed, recalling that that smallpox epidemic had taken nearly the entire Grandier family, along with many of their own relatives and neighbors. Since then, she rarely saw Marie, because her friend fully devoted herself to raising her grandson and all the rest of her duties.

Oscar sat for a long time, listening to the stories of this old woman. Finally, she asked about one thing that seemed important to her. Where was Marie Glace from? "Unfortunately, I don't know." - the woman replied. Despite her disappointment, Oscar felt that this was the end of the thread she should pull.

However, it did not turn out to be as easy as she initially thought. Marie Glace appeared as if out of nowhere and all the traces Oscar found were only traces left in Paris and Versailles. Marie did not send or receive any letters, and did not visit anyone. As if she was completely cut off from her old life. Oscar was very intrigued by this. She knew nothing about her nanny's past, although the woman was always so close to her. She herself wondered now that she had never asked about her roots or family, as if she had accepted without hesitation that her only family was her grandson. Oscar spent hours studying maps, in libraries and the post offices, going through old records of residents, registers in Paris, Normandy, Arras and other places. But France was a huge country and finding one family was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

When she was finally discouraged after many months, she found an article by Louis Roturier in Nouvelles de Paris, the newspaper she now bought regularly.

"The situation in the countryside is dramatically bad. Half of our cattle have died and the fields are not yielding a crop. People have little, and the others come to take most of what they have left. What is this for? To fill bellies so full already!? It has to stop!"

"People here die of hunger, exhaustion and disease. Old and young are dying, and child mortality has been at the highest in years. We are plagued by diseases and only a few can afford a doctor's help. In many places it is not there anyway, so people have to go without any medical help, counting on quacks."

"Neighborly help works, but we are not always able to reach everyone on time. We share what we can, but our hands are so empty that tears only flow from our eyes. "

Indeed, 1787 was extremely bad. The crop failure resulted in food shortages and a huge increase in prices. While people in cities could survive thanks to imported products, those in the villages, living only thanks to what they produced themselves, was in a hopeless situation. People were simply starving. What Andre wrote about was a real description of the catastrophe. So it meaned that he had to be there, right in the middle of it. Oscar sat for a long time clutching the paper in her hand. If her suspicion was correct, if Andre and Louis Roturier was the same person, then Andre is alive and they live somewhere in the countryside. But where? How was she going to find them? France was hundreds of thousands of miles, there were thousands of villages and towns. The needle was still very small and the haystack grew and grew. Oscar had drunk unconscious that evening. Because fortunately, the thread, though thin, was still there. And because of the longing that broke her heart. The next day she went to the newspaper's office and begged for a conversation. However, Bernard Chatellet, the chief editor and person in charge of the other journalists, simply dismissed her. "I can't share this information with anyone." - he said -"It's confidential. You don't think I will endanger our journalist's life. None of us trust the soldiers." - he added, boldly looking into her eyes.

- When your husband refused to help me, I tried to find out something myself. Before I could find any trace, however, riots broke out in Paris, and then the king summoned the States General. You know yourself how the story unfolded. When Girodelle and I refused the order to shoot people, we were locked in the Bastille for two weeks - Oscar showed the still visible abrasions from the shackles - We only left thanks to the intercession of the queen. Or maybe because they knew they would need commanders when it all started.. But I wouldn't be able to stand against the people of Paris. I left. I'm a fugitive now, you know? - She smiled sadly – Deserter. If they find me, the execution will not pass me by.

- If so, you should hide somewhere, and not walk the streets of Paris - Rosalie said, a little angry

- Right - Oscar nodded - I came here because I thought.. that maybe I will meet you or another person who could help me find Andre.. And look how lucky I was! - she smiled broadly

- You almost got yourself killed! - the girl chuckled, looking at her arm and the neatly applied bandage, which had already started to soak up blood. - But . I would like to thank you very much for what you did. The woman you saved the baby is my friend.

- You don't have to thank - Oscar sighed - When I saw that soldier aiming at the boy..I couldn't have done otherwise. It was like an instinctive response - she laughed softly

- It's good that the bullet came out - Rosalie said - Though the hand is still pretty scarred and it will probably take a long time to heal.

- It's a small matter - Oscar muttered, feeling the first signs of fatigue. She slowly began to lie down on the crumbling mattress under her back.

- That soldier you killed.. - Rosalie began

- It'll be just one extra brick to my death sentence - Oscar said sleepily - I need to rest now, Rosalie.

- Of course - the girl whispered, shocked at her previous words - You can stay here until tomorrow, but then we have to find you some other place. I will come tomorrow morning.

- Yhm - Oscar confirmed, falling asleep

- Are you sure you feel well? - Rosalie asked anxiously, holding her healthy arm - You are very pale.

- My hand hurts a bit - Oscar admitted - But I'm sure they'll be looking for me. So I should get out of here as soon as possible.

- We talked a lot yesterday with Bernard.. - the girl said with a slight hesitation - and I think we found a place where you could go and hide. You will be safe there and someone will certainly look after you. Please, here's the address. - she handed her the folded sheet

- Thank you - Oscar smiled gratefully and hugged her tightly - Goodbye!

The girl nodded, fighting back tears. Then she helped Oscar climb onto the prepared wagon.

- Rosalie! - Oscar said suddenly, as if remembering something. - There is one more, very important thing. Tell me.. Please tell me what is the name of my son.. - she asked in a pleading tone

Rosalie smiled radiantly.

- Wouldn't you like to find out yourself? - she replied, pointing to the card that Oscar was holding in her hands. - See you! - she said, and the carriage started moving.

Oscar waved goodbye to the girl, then opened the card with trembling hands and read it.

Andre Grandier

Rue du Donjon

Angles-sur-L'Anglin

The ladder car Oscar was sitting in bounced on every bump, causing severe pain to her arm, but she ignored it. All the way she laughed and cried at the same time, feeling such a lightness in her soul that she hadn't felt since she abandoned her own child one day in March many years ago. She felt happy. She was coming home. Back to her family.

The coachman had left her where she had indicated. From there, she had to walk to the place she hid her horse and all the things she had picked up from Jarjayes Manor before escaping. Fortunately, everything was safely waiting for her, so after feeding and watering the horse, Oscar was ready to start her journey immediately. It was about 200 miles to Angles-sur-L'Anglin. Unfortunately, due to the wound and her fettle, she could not drive more than 5-6 hours a day, which was a long time anyway, considering her state of health. She slept in abandoned huts and small, decaying inns, the further from the main road the better. Although she was wearing the worst clothes she could find, and which, after a few days, made her look like a poor man, her hair and behavior betrayed her. She tried to stuff her hair under her clothes, and not say much in the inns. Still, she felt people's suspicious eyes on her. Maybe the reason was also the sword she kept on her belt, so that it was always at hand. However, she felt safer with the sword and was not going to give up wearing it.

After a week of passing the fields, meadows and forests, villages and small towns, poor cottages and abandoned manors, she finally reached the place. Angles-sur-L'Anglin was a small village, consisting of several dozen houses. Some of them were concentrated in one place, the rest were shot over a considerable distance between fields and vineyards. Huge castle ruins loomed majestically above the village, and the Anglin River was flowing right by, meandering among the green trees.

It was early evening when Oscar arrived at the village. Throughout the day, the strong summer sun warmed mercilessly, and the wind was heavy and steamy. It was getting ready for a storm, and Oscar thought it would be a good idea to find shelter before the rain started to fall and night fell. She looked at the card again, then went to the nearest house and spoke to the man working in the garden. The other showed her the way to Grandier's house without hesitation. Rue du Donjon meandered along the River Anglin, separated only by a small patch of fields and groves. The houses were few and far between. The man she spoke with instructed her that Grandier's house was the one with the blue horse painted on it, which was quite distinctive. Shortly thereafter, she stood in front of a large shack where a cyan-blue horse with a flowing mane gleamed on the front wall next to the porch.

The house was large and spacious, with a big porch surrounding the entrance. A short distance from the hut, she could see a stable and another building that could have been a forge, because in front of the gate there were pliers and other tools for shoeing and many different types of horseshoes. Behind the house was a garden full of various flowers and vegetables, and an orchard behind it. It was very clean and tidy everywhere. The walls of the hut were freshly whitewashed, the porch had a new wooden pergola, and there were flowers in wooden boxes on the window sills. The peace surrounding this little patch of land was soothing and magical.

Oscar stood in front of the porch for a long time, her heart pounding with emotion. She knew that this time she would not chicken out and back down at the last minute. Finally she summoned her courage and knocked.

- What the hell is she doing here?!

These were the first words Andre said to comment on her appearance when he came home an hour later.