Chapter 55 All Things That Stir On The Midnight Watch
Nadir shuddered as the horse came to full gallop. He'd not pushed the horse that hard before, and had no idea how long he could maintain that speed. The road was straight, providing little diversion to out-maneuver the pack. He could not gather an accurate count, but feared there were as many as twenty in the lot. It was the first night of the full moon, prime hunting for the wolves. They howled, darting in and out nipping at the horse's legs, never quite getting a hold. Nadir felt like a dead man riding his last. Such a bitter demise was more horror than he could imagine.
His horse panted heavily, Nadir could feel the strain in the animal's shoulders, a last desperate surge in his gate. Ahead there was a hill, and just beyond it laid a river that would have to be crossed. There was a bridge, but Nadir wondered if forging the waters might be better. There was a distance, however slight now, between he and the wolves, and he hoped he could take advantage of it as they mounted and descended the peak. He leaned in closer, hugging his very form to the animal.
Having traveled this way many, many, times, the beast wanted to go to the right, to cross the bridge and continue on the road, but Nadir steered him hard to the left as they passed over the hill into the dark cover of the overgrowth. Splashing into the water, both Nadir and the horse submersed briefly, then the horse found its footing and quickly scrambled up the other bank. Once on firm ground again, Nadir maneuvered him through a thicket just as the pack reached the crest. Looking over his shoulder in a flash he saw that they indeed were pursuing him into the water, rather than taking the much easier route of the bridge. Some entered the frigid currents only to turn back again. The pack circled and howled on the shore as they raised their heads toward the full moon.
Nadir turned about, hunching once again against the horse, moving through the trees until he came to a clearing. In a short time he could rejoin the road, but for now, he would continue on the meadow. It was flat and firm under hoof, a scant snow cover still remaining over the frozen ground. He'd have just over two hours left to his journey, and would never be so glad to see the lights on the carriage house of his sister's inn.
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Joseph slept heavily under the weight of the ale that overtook him. The four officers already asleep for hours snored loudly. The single kerosene lantern flickered in the upper loft of the carriage house. Sunrise was several hours off, but soon the light of the morning would infiltrate the walls, waking all who slumbered there.
Joseph's dreams flowed through his subconscious mind, weaving in and out tormenting him. Although his eyes were heavy in slumber, his body was fitful, far from the resting that his aging bones needed. Bright flashes of light, screams in the distance, gunfire, rearing horses. He jerked to an upright state, a thick sweat covered his entire body. This would be the last one he thought to himself, breathing deeply. The last one for sure.
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Erik had long since finished peeling the apples, the remnants discarded in a pail by the door. He'd moved on to slicing them thinly as for pie. Having finished that he sat sipping from a cup of coffee he'd just brewed. He thought Claire would mind very little that he'd made himself at home in her kitchen. He'd watched for hours as the man of mystery had plodded, quietly, methodically, to the carriage house, peering in the windows on all sides, and then trudged back through the snow to his hiding place beneath the tree. He had been clever really, no doubt a professional hunter, having carefully taken a branch to mask his prints in the snow. Erik wondered what had been of such fascination in the carriage house.
He was now not at all sure that the man had been looking for him, but doubted little that the officers or the hansom had any reason to be followed. Perhaps he was indeed an assassin sent by De Chagny, thus being expeditious, avoiding a public trial and the like. Yes, if De Chagny was as ruthless a man as his reputation, it would seem to be the swiftest way to resolve the matter for him. Kill the beast, display the body for all of France to see, and put everything else in order. Perhaps he had not fooled the officer at all in his previous interview. Perhaps the officers were not guides, perhaps they were guards keeping a watchful eye on him until such time they were far enough away to allow his plan to take place beyond the scrutiny of the public eye. For what would anyone think of a man shot and killed on such a road? They'd merely pass by assuming the worst, and continue on their own journey.
Yes, perhaps De Chagny deserved his reputation as a cunning adversary.
The question now lingered in Erik's mind, what to do about the coming light. He could leave by lone horse before everyone rose, distracting the pursuer, luring him into the deep woods where Erik could no doubt put a decisive end to him, then return before anyone awoke. That would leave blood on Erik's hands, and no doubt cause him to be pursued ever more fervently. What if it was not Erik that was pursued at all? Perhaps he was looking for someone else? But if he had been, and had not found him, why did he tarry? The right decision eluded him. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone now. To for once in his lifetime have a life that was worth living.
His thoughts traveled back up the winding staircase to the delicate creature that lay in his bed. She was the vision he'd had nearly all his life. Someone to love him, to speak to his soul. She completed him in ways that he hadn't known he was incomplete. His spirit soared when he thought back over the last days he'd spent with her. Although they were dotted with deception, hiding, running, they were overwhelmed with passion, acceptance, and love of the very deepest kind. He never wanted to be apart from her as long as he had breath in his lungs.
He sighed deeply, the lack of rest now registering in his body. He stood, stretching, but quickly retracted as he heard footsteps coming down the still dark hallway.
"Good morning to you Mr. Courtland," Claire greeted him quietly. She came to stand next to where he sat on the stool. "Has he moved much?' Claire asked nodding toward the window. Erik didn't even glance up, but stared out the window. "He went to the windows of the carriage house, peering in each one before retreating to the cover of the pines" he said, a yawn now slipping through his words.
"You must be tired, having sat propped up in that chair all night. I'd offer to make you some coffee, but I see you've found some." Claire glanced around, and then down at the empty bushel on the floor, and back up at Stephan.
"What on earth…" she walked over to the bowl, lifting the cover and found all the perfectly sliced apples submerged in a new cool water bath. "I am not one to sit idle, I hope you do not mind," Stephan said, nodding toward the bowl.
"Not even slightly, it makes my work much lighter this morning." She reached in selecting several slices fingering them. "They're perfect slices, same thickness, the best kind for pie," she paused looking at him "you are quite skilled sir, if I had to say I would guess you are a student of the culinary arts!" She smiled, tossing the slices back into the bowl, taking it to the sink to be drained.
Erik smiled, "not at all, I fancy carving wood, I guess there are some similarities, the use of the knife and the like."
"Indeed. You shall have the first slice of this pie when it is finished good sir, a reward for your assistance." Claire smiled at him briefly.
Stephan smiled back at her before replying "if you feel secure, I think I should like to retire for a few moments before breakfast, perhaps freshen up a bit before." Claire nodded, taking the gun that Stephan extended to her. "I'm glad this wasn't needed last night," she said, looking down at it. "As am I" Stephan replied, and then departed.