136 Different Cloaks of Heroism

There was a sharp rap on the door. She knew it shan't be Madeline, as her normal course, she came and went only with a slight knock. This was different, from a much heavier hand. Madame Giry went to it, opening it slightly. There, standing outside, was Raoul. He looked tired, but an odd sense of calm and happiness was held in his presence.

"Madame Giry, good morning. I'd no want to disturb your slumber, but Madeline made mention that you'd risen for the day and were having your tea."

She looked down, Raoul himself had a cup in hand. She smiled, opening the door a bit further. "Do come in Raoul, please join me," she said motioning to the chairs by the window.

Raoul smiled coming in to sit with her. Madame Giry noticed that Raoul was dressed in a robe, and not fully ready for the day himself. That gave her some comfort as she at present found herself in similar circumstances.

Madame Giry smiled offering to freshen Raoul's cup, he politely declined. He'd already mixed his to just the right proportions. "Raoul?" Madame Giry said with curious eyes.

He smiled at her taking a sip from his cup, returning it to its saucer on the table. "I've come to inquire if you'd like to join Meg and I later this morning."

Madame Giry smiled. No doubt Raoul had yet another game he'd like to play, or perhaps he'd do some reading. Either choice had pleasurable possibilities. She replied, "why yes, I think I should like it very much."

Raoul returned her acceptance with a smile of his own. "Then you'd not mind if I take the liberty of borrowing a few things for your comfort, a pelisse perhaps? I dare say though the sun shines, and the wind has subsided, it is not yet a comfortable temperature out of doors."

Madame Giry's brow raised just slightly as she took a sip from her cup. "And just what endeavor did you have in mind that involves venturing outside?"

Raoul smiled at her, it was apparent that she'd not seen any of the scurrying about of his staff in the courtyard. "I shan't want to distress you, but if you'd give me the liberty of a surprise, I should like very much for you and Meg to join me at eleven o'clock. I've made all the arrangements."

Raoul stood, looking down at Madame Giry. "I've a bit to do this morning, but I should like very much to know that we can depend on your company?"

Madame Giry nodded. "It shall be as you wish." She smiled at him as he departed through the door into the hallway. Madame Giry had no idea what Raoul might be planning, but judging by the glint in his eye, it was no doubt something that he felt would please them all.

XXXX

Raoul went to his room, closing the door behind him. He had to admit he felt a bit lighter on his feet. The last time he could remember being out in the snow as such, had been the last winter that his mother was alive. It was a pleasant collection of memories he'd visited often during his life.

He'd spent so much time making arrangements for their outing he'd forgotten to inquire about his own. "Now let me see." Raoul walked to his wardrobe, mind set on task. He'd not noticed he was not alone in the room. There, sitting, watching….was a man. Serious jaw set, so much at stake, so much to set straight, and he'd not be leaving the room until he was satisfied.

XXXXX

Christine had finished the tea and plate of soft eggs and dry toast that Misty had brought for her. She'd sent Misty for a bit of fruit, an apple perhaps would settle her stomach. Though she'd eaten, there was a sour feeling in the pit of it that she couldn't seem to quite get rid of.

The bath was drawing as she sat staring out the window. None had come to the front of the house to disturb the pristine beauty of the snow and the wildlife that now scampered about freely on the firm crust of it. The animals had returned from their hiding, a sure sign that the storm was over, and the recovery from it would was already beginning. Though the sky was still a bit overcast, glints of sun peeked through from time to time, giving one hope that it would clear by mid-day.

Christine had her legs pulled up beneath her chin, Erik's robe wrapped protectively about her. She closed her eyes. She could almost feel his presence, his aura. It was both a comfort and agony.

As the clock struck nine she could hear each chime, moving slowly from bell to bell. It had been perfectly crafted. Each chime a harmonious blend, leading fluidly to the next chime with both pause and continuity. In one singular moment it brought to mind the two most important men in her life; her husband and her father.

Her father had taught her so much about life through music. It was a universal language he'd told her. No words needed to add to the music for it spoke directly to the heart. The clock he'd commissioned had no doubt been constructed to his exacting specifications, each chimed note a perfect compliment to the next. He would truly have been pleased.

Her mind wandered to Erik. He'd found this clock…no…she wasn't entirely sure that the clock had not found them. It's perfection impressed even Erik. They'd stood in front of it several times simply listening to each chime…it had been like having her father there with them.

As the clock struck its last cord Christine could see him in her minds eyes. Standing in front of something, something…it appeared there were two of him, no….it was his reflection. He was crying. And then it was gone.

Christine stood walking toward the water closet. She didn't know what to make of all the strange thoughts she'd had since Erik had been gone. She'd been able to ignore so many thoughts, but this one hurt her deeply. If he was cheerless, if he was crying, she'd want to be at his side. She lowered her head, "Lord, if this prayer should find Erik in need of comfort, I implore you to be where I cannot be, to love as I cannot love, to give him strength Lord." She lifted her head. She'd see to a bath, and her fruit. She could do little more for him now.

XXXXX

Meg waited until she heard no further stirrings in the hallway. She slipped silently from the bed, making her way to her wardrobe once more. This time she pulled the doors slightly closed. If she were inadvertently discovered, she could claim ignorance. She ran her hand along the white fur coat. Such things she'd never seen up close, let alone have touched. She'd seen many feathered, assorted things trimmed in fir, for they were a regular part of the Opera House, but this…she'd never beheld such a thing in her life.

The fedora and muff were lined with the softest velvet that Meg had ever held against her skin. She could hardly imagine wearing such finery, but really she'd no choice. To resist or refuse would be to deny Raoul the pleasure of giving it to her, and she knew that there was much pleasure for the giver. She ran her hand along it, turning to look at the persimmon dress that Raoul had suggested. Yes it would be a bit warmer, though it should hardly matter under such a fine coat. She'd be as warm as she'd ever been in her life. She closed her eyes.

She'd have to become accustomed to this, not be taken back by it. If she were truly to live out her days with Raoul, this would be a regular occurrence. She shook her head, a pained expression shattering her happiness. Maybe one day, just one day, she'd not let that thought push into her head…. "it should have been Christine's." Memory by memory, thought by thought, it was stealing the joy that she should have been reveling in. She was coming to despise it, it was but a sour taste in her mouth, and she wished it could be spat out.

XXXXX

Erik looked at his face, running his hand along the edge of his skin. It was red, and chapped, but equally on both sides. The lines were deep around his eyes, and his forehead, showing he'd a few years of life behind him. He recognized this look about skin that had suffered much exposure to wind and frigid chills. He leaned in closely, his eyes were blood red, no doubt from the incredible tired he felt. His heart began to slow, inwardly he was relieved, he'd thought it to be much worse. This…this was nothing more than any man would have suffered at the hands of mother nature. He furrowed his brow. What had frightened the girl so? Was it possible that even without intention he instilled trepidation? He shook his head.

There were things about women that he would not ever understand. The many conversations of men he'd overheard at the Opera House gave him the reassurance that it was not simply something that he suffered with. Many a man had professed that though they knew their wives, they never had really come to understand them. His Christine was the exception. Perhaps it was having grown up with her father, and then having been shaped by Erik, she had somehow become more open, more free to speak her mind. He didn't know. His thoughts wandered to his Christine….he simply wanted nothing more than to be home and in her arms. Nothing. Suddenly he was tired again. He needed to rest.

Erik sat fully clothed now out on the bench in the hall. The doctor had not returned, nor had the innkeeper, and by the account of the only young man he could find, the three of them had taken the old woman to the stable and had remained there with her.

He raised his had to his face once more. Tears of relief had flowed, though he'd felt selfish at their arrival. He'd been worried for his flesh, and a woman lay dead from the exposure. How pitifully wretched for him to have been concerned but for himself. The new flesh seemed to have faired better than the old, the opposite of what he'd expected. He closed his eyes. He was so tired. A small cough rose from his lungs, no doubt his penance for making them suffer so in the weather as he did.

A young woman had come out offering Erik a cup of stiff black coffee, which he took gratefully. The moisture from the steam that rose from the cup as he blew on it, was welcome to his parched skin. He now sat alone in the room; silence being his only companion. Just now, that is what he preferred. He'd not had a true bit of solitude in days, and in an odd way he craved it, much like a injured lion retreats alone to his den to lick his wounds.

He could hear men chattering in the other room. Rather quietly at first, but now having seen the maids carrying out the breakfast dishes, the conversation became a bit more lively, and growing ever louder. He could make out only fragments of sentences.

"He should be honored, a special ceremony…." Said one man. "Yes, perhaps at the town celebration, that would seem fitting." Said a second. The general conversation traveled in various version of agreement of the same sentiment.

Erik furrowed his brow, leaning over just a bit trying to listen…who were they talking about? His heart raced as he listened….he'd pray not that they'd be speaking of him.

Yet another man said, "we should send a post, though it likely shan't be necessary, she seems to know the goings on here…..this is the sort of thing she'd be most proud of….yes, just the sort of thing indeed."

Erik was dumfounded, who was this "she" they so intently referred to? Just then something wrenched in his gut, what had that man said? He leaned straining further as another man asked the first to repeat himself.

"What is that good sir?"

"A hero, yes certainly the woman died, but he'd more courage than you Francois, or you Javier, or even you Louis…not one of us had it within us to save her, and this stranger, this newcomer to our village, he's displayed more courage than the lot of us." There was a long pause.

Erik bristled, that word again, hero…..if only they knew. It was the man's final conclusion that set into motions events that Erik would long regret after the sun set on the day.

The man uttered, "yes she was a lunatic and some of us shan't have cared if she'd frozen in the banks of the snow. She'd have done her family a favor even. I dare say it's the courage of the man we'd be honoring, not who he'd rescued, no matter how pitiful little value the woman's life was worth." The men were stating words of agreement when Erik came round the corner with great little countenance.

There he stood, his eyes fixed and burning. His very presence caused a hush to fall on them. Several foolish men had begun to clap, but their exuberance retreated quickly when they saw that Erik was not the least bit humbled nor amused. The glare in his eye told them he was angry, and little did they know the rage that boiled beneath the surface of this soul.

Erik's voice boomed, "what know you of life? Of the value of life?" He looked around the room. Most gazed at him in horror. "Have you read of John Locke, of David Hume, their theories of life, of the human condition?"

Erik began to walk among the men, his eyes fixed, his voice steady and toned with indignation. "What right have you to value one life with more weight than another? Whatever has breath, has meaning, has value." The veins in his neck bulged, he could feel his temper rising, he'd gone beyond recall.

"In this city with no lack of feckless nebbishes, you fool yourselves into believing a pedigree somehow entitles one to pass judgment on another. There is a paucity of good and compassionate souls that might come to the aid of another just for the sake of the value of that life, no matter how intrinsic it might seem."

Erik's voice swelled, "You quibble over matters of felicitating one who does not require it, nor has any desire to receive such genuflection. Chauesser is not in need of pompous fops, off-scourings, or of ne'er do-wells, but in need of men and women of prudence and lacking in arrogant subjugation, who are but willing to exact compassion wherever it is required of them."

Erik's eyes were wide and wild, his stature as tall and looming as it had ever been. "Pray do tell, all of this pomp and circumstance on display as if you were living a refined and civilized life is but a façade for ineffectual souls? A mere shadow of a city full of citizens content to bask in the glow, but not roll a sleeve, nor lift an arm to aid another?"

Erik paced impatiently back and forth among them. "Now, because of this lazy abandon you have want to exalt a man who does nothing more than exercise freely his moral conscience?" The room was silent. "No, no, good sirs, do not confuse yourselves! There is no hero standing among you today…I am but a man…a man who did what he ought, when it was needed, and nothing more."

Erik hadn't noticed, but the doctor, innkeeper, and sled driver had joined the flock of speechless men on the fringes. There was no comment, no rebuffing, nor rebuttal. They'd received their chastising, and any criticism of the dialogue made by this stranger, would be made long after he'd left.

Erik looked at the sled driver. His heart was pounding. He'd wished to bid Nicole and her mother adieu, but now he'd want for nothing more than to leave this place, returning to his Christine, the safe harbor of her arms.

Erik exhaled, grasping the edges of his cloak. His last statement settled upon them with heavy impression. "Good men who tarry allow evil to triumph. Gentlemen, do ask yourselves…what sort of man does this knowledge find you this morning?" With that Erik whirled his cloak with a flourish, and walked out from amongst them making his way toward the back of the inn and out the door, the sled driver following closely behind.

There were no words exchanged as Erik stood waiting for the sled and dogs to be readied. He'd calm himself, learning to breathe in and out, in and out, slowly. He watched the light that glowed off to the left in the back room. He knew that is where she was. His eyes temporarily filling with tears.

He cried for her loss….for his bitter disappointment in the people he'd always envied. They lived the life that he'd thought he'd wanted…but what a putrid existence to live for oneself and oneself alone, neither care nor compassion for another? Was this the embodiment of living in this world? He'd have none of it, not in his household. He'd a horrid taste in his mouth from the thought of it.

Erik looked up as he heard the sled driver click his tongue. He and the dogs were ready. Erik sighed, pulling his cloak about him as he started toward the sled. He felt a hand on his shoulder, this time turning to look before he took the wrist by force.

There she stood before him, her eyes fully red, her cheeks wet with tears, her lips puffy, her faced drained. Standing on the tips of her toes, she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, whispering in his ear. "Thank you sir." She stood looking into his eyes for a brief, intense, moment, and then she was gone.

Erik turned, his lips quivering….that was his reward, the relief in the young girl's eyes. He'd done what he could, and she knew it…and was grateful…that was all the reward he needed. The men in the inn had it wholly wrong…they did not understand the human condition, and to Erik, that was the saddest loss of all.

Erik climbed on the back of the sled, never looking back at the inn. He leaned in looking at the team of dogs that now pulled them. The injured dog from the previous day rode in the seat in front of him.

The sled driver caught the look of confusion on Erik's face. "It's for the benefit of the dogs sir. If he's not here, they'd push him out of the team. As long as they can smell him, see him, he's not dead to them, and in time, they'll allow him back in the line. It's for their morale," he reached down scratching the dog behind the ears, "and for him. He'd die a little bit each day if he wasn't out here with us."

The man smiled sincerely at Erik, "just because something is damaged, doesn't mean it's lost." The man glanced down at Erik once more before he turned whistling to the dogs. They stood at attention. They were ready…and so was Erik. He was ready to return home…to Christine…for to him, she was home.

Author's Notes:

Dear Faithfuls: I would once again like to thank you for all of your wonderful comments and encouraging words that you offer. It always humbles me to know that you are still out there reading the story, and allowing a dream to come true for me. I could not do this without you!

Captainoblivious: Sorry for the cliffe…it was not meant to be evil…but hey, at least it wasn't over a weekend! LOL! Darn, just when I'd thought you'd left all your toys at home, you whip out that Pauly Shore gun! I tell you, I think Erik is drawing his saber…yikes….yes, I am certain he's in such a foul mood after his ordeal at the inn that he might be looking to exercise his saber waving skills! Swoosh yep, I'm pretty certain that he… Swoosh is out for a little exercise…Swoosh, anyway, before I become Swiss cheese… Swoosh, I'm going to talk about something else. SWOOSH, SWOOSH…" everybody run! OK, OK, I confess, too much caffeine today!

Yes, perhaps this chapter is a bit better, and I wish I could have been a mouse in the corner watching as Erik scared those men half to death with his verbal lashing. No doubt some of his vocabulary had them wondering if they were being insulted or praised, but he'd pay them no mind. He was angry, there was no mistaking that! Can you imagine being that close to him when he dressed in his cloak, his eyes blood-shot, and his voice booming! Yikes, I nearly scared myself!

PhantomsRogue: Do not underestimate being able to write something "substantial" on your own. You might just surprise yourself! Yes, I do think the collaboration will be good, but please no carrousels… the thought of it makes me dizzy, and there is never a possibility that you can actually meet! LOL! Change of heart about our dear little impressionable Meg? Hmmmm…I shall look forward to hearing from you.

Sounds like you baked up a storm! I could not have that much in my house, or I'd end up with carbo overload! I love it so, but it does not love my waistline! LOL! I was able to deliver my two loaves of banana bread last evening when I met with my friends at the German restaurant we went to for celebrating Octoberfest. She was very pleased, though my other friend was having bread envy, so now I shall have to go back to the kitchen once again and bake something to mail to her. Oh what a terrible friend…I should have just baked an extra loaf for her in the first place! Last night we had a good meal, beautiful presentation, the taste was hmmm, lacking. I had sugar pumpkin soup (served in an actual small pumpkin!) and a chilled beet salad…not too much flavor…what a pity because it had such potential to be GREAT. Without the café and carrot cake at the end, I'd have been disappointed. But truly, I should have been the most thankful to see my friends, the food was secondary! It was fun when we first arrived we sat outside in this sort of ivy grotto, and since it was cold they had several fancy heaters outside. So we sat there enjoying our flight of German beers, listening to the trickle of the waterfall, in the lighted atrium. Rather fun I thought. I think Erik and Christine would rather have enjoyed it! LOL. Somehow when I find myself in an enjoyable place my mind always seems to wander to how I think this couple would have liked it….ahhh yes….my obsession is so deeply ingrained in my brain!

Look forward to hearing from you!

WriterMuseoftheNight: I laughed out loud when I read… "I've been asked if it is hell living in my mind." I think I shall use that line this very weekend….I've got just the person to ask that question! Yes, a creative, inquisitive mind can be torture, but thank God for them! If we shan't have inquisitive minds, we'd not have electricity, nor the vaccine for polio, nor have discovered radium, nor have the lovely internet that so wonderfully connects all of our Phamily even now! So, to those that pose that question, just give them an arrogant "hmmmp" for a reply…I love this Latin quote… Parva leves capiunt animas - Small things occupy light minds Long live the inquisitive mind!

Glad you caught the meaning of what was going on with the girl in inn….we can likely all recall when we've come face to face with someone that we've admired from afar, especially unexpectedly…we want to melt into the pavement…no doubt what I would do if I met our dear Erik! LOL. She wasn't so much flirting as she was going… "oh my, oh my…" because she did realize he was married, and tried to avert her eyes, though I'm sure she didn't want to…. you? LOL! Yes, as much as we've seen Erik progress, he still has a ways to go. Much to learn. Though certain things, as evidenced from this most recent chapter, he understands perfectly well. Though he'll have to learn to control his temper…though temperamental people tend to be passionate people, so he might not be able to change…

As for Meg, desiring to visit Christine…I can only imagine. To have a friend, nay, a sister that you'd spent so much time with, that had been your confidante, so far away…and to have the knowledge that you might never be able to stay in touch, and that the decisions you are about to make will impact your lives together forever…Yes, I can imagine she simply wants to be near Christine just to talk to her, at least once more before she decides.

Ah yes, I like the term illegal storage….and yes, our beloved Erik would be furious! Can you imagine the vengeance? I'd pity the pair of them, if I didn't loath them so! LOL!

Tex110: Sorry, (I seem to be apologizing a considerable amount today!) about the cliffie. I know it seems cruel, but I couldn't make it a 15 page chapter. Thank you for complimenting the couples. I think they are a perfect match for one another. Erik and Christine are both deep and passionate, lovers of all things musical, indeed they share a very intangible connection because of it. Raoul needs to be needed, and Meg needs so much…a good match there I think. I hope that they all can be happy….hmmm….

Darn, you had to mention "glaze"…now I'm hungry for donuts! LOL!

Phantomfan13: Sounds like you "gobbled" up quite a bit of turkey this weekend….sorry …I couldn't help myself! Long weekends are absolutely wonderful aren't they though! The only down side is that when we relax we can actually see how crazy our every-day life really is and that makes us realize how fast life is flying by us! I do love time-off, but it always makes me sad…sometimes its just better if I work, work, work!

No, I could not take away Erik's handsomeness, though he will have to do a bit of healing to get better. Have you ever had frostbite and windburn? I have and let me tell you, it is not at all a pleasant thing to recover from…yikes…poor Erik!

Now, no "poo" for school. You've got to feed that hungry mind of yours!

Batteredchild: Christine's anticipation is growing…oh I can just imagine how she feels. If I had that coming home to me….well…I'd be doing somersaults! I like that she's prepared something for him with her hands, and that she's written him a note. She cannot "give" him anything in the house that is not already his. What she can do is create things to give to him…..I think he'd prefer that anyway don't you?

MeowLeFae: Good to hear from you my dear! Ten hour days…I can empathize with you…it makes one very tired doesn't it? I'm glad to hear though that you are still able to find time to keep up with our story, and our Phamily! Yes, Erik is a curious one isn't he? The books will prove to be an integral part of the story I'm sure… Take care, and do drop us a line now and then and let us know how you are doing!

ElvieIII: A Roman Holiday….hey…wasn't that a movie! LOL! Oh how very wonderful for you…the rest of the Phamily is green with envy! Didn't mean to leave you on a tether… yes, I think a Christine and Erik reunion is soon on the horizon….. He's got to recuperate from all that cold….hmmm…. LOL! Anyway, welcome back. If you've a bit of time, and want to share…what was the best thing you saw in Rome?