Sophie had given her an elaborate costume to make sure she could not be recognized as the girl who had killed Marat. Sophie was not much of an extravagant dresser herself but she knew her way around the upper class. Dressed as an upper class fop with copious make up and powdered wig, the ex-Assassin felt mostly out of place; there was one other woman of almost equal attire, but the other fourteen all looked like fishwives.
This was to be Catherine's last sermon of the day. The woman's cottage was big, but not an ideal place for a crowd. They sat in two rows of eight chairs crammed together. Élise was in the front row, seat at the right edge. The bony old woman was barely in front of them as she preached, cane in one hand, the other in the air.
"They rattle our gates, spilling the blood of our sons and brothers, taking God's name in vain in their unholy crusade against this new France! Robespierre, like Jesus Christ and his apostles, finds himself the target of the armies of Rome! And your sons and brothers die valiantly to defend us, far away from their beautiful home!"
The woman next to Élise looked young, someone who might have a brother fighting.
"But our enemies are not just outside, they are within our sacred land! Disobedience to the Convention is disobedience to God! It is nothing less than divine justice that fell upon the rebels of Lyon Marseille, and Vendée! They may have believed they were fighting for the Creator, but they were wrong! In Maximilien Robespierre is the redeemer of mankind! Fill the ears of your husbands, your sons, your daughters, and your mothers with truth. Honor your sons who fight for our homeland, for France is the new Jerusalem! Go now, and spread our truth!"
That was the end of the sermon. The other women gave a standing ovation. She joined them for the sake of appearance.
The others got up to leave. Catherine seemed to be heading for a drink on her nearby table, walking with her back towards Élise. Élise needed an excuse to linger as the others filed out. She would try to make conversation. She stayed in her seat, patiently, innocently, awkwardly, as the woman hobbled over to get her mug. She wondered if she would ever get old enough to move like that.
When Catherine got to her table and picked up her mug, she sipped and turned to Élise. Élise immediately stood up and curtsied.
"A rousing speech, madam! Have you had an honor of meeting with Robespierre in person?"
"Many times," she said in her raspy, old voice. "He's shown me glorious things. He has his ear to the Creator."
"I would love to meet him myself."
"There's no need to, ma chère. Very soon all of France, and all of Europe will know his divinity."
Divinity. That sounded ominous.
She took a final sip from her mug and put it down. Then she began shambling towards a door that Élise presumed went to her bedroom. This was good. She spoke as she walked her frail walk. "My remaining time on Earth grows short. Even after today's testimony I feel tired. But soon I will no longer be necessary."
The old woman opened the door to her bedroom, and slowly closed it behind her.
That put them in two different worlds, sort of. Her hearing likely was not the sharpest, but the old woman might still notice if she did not hear Élise leave. So Élise headed for the door, her footsteps intentionally audible, and opened it. It creaked loudly, which pleased her. Then she closed it, though remained in the house.
Now she was in hostile territory. Her next footfalls needed to be quiet. Maybe she should wait for the old woman to fall into slumber. Would she snore? Although there was also the risk of her getting up again, perhaps realizing she was still thirsty or something else. She decided to move now.
The stairs to her basement were the obvious treasure. If there was anything valuable here, she would find it below.
She would need a light source for the basement. Élise scanned the room. There was candle on her dinner table, with a book of matches adjacent.
There was still silence from the woman's bedroom, no snoring. With care and tenderness Élise took her first step forward. No noise. She took another. There was the slight creek but that was it. She took a third.
She picked up the candle and lit it.
She began moving to the stairs, still keeping her footfalls gentle. The floorboards were surprisingly forgiving, much more robust than the old woman.
Élise made it to the stairs. That was usually the loudest part of a house. She distributed her weight carefully as she descended. One step. Two steps. Three steps...
She made it to the bottom with no creaking. Then she heard something truly beautiful, the sound of snoring from the bedroom. Élise felt a load off her shoulders.
Élise reached for the handle. The basement door was unlocked. It creaked loudly, broken glass to her ears which put her on alert. But she heard the reassuring noise of the old woman still snoring. She felt great relief, then opened the door just enough for passage and slipped in. The ex-Assassin did not bother closing it behind her.
As light illuminated the foreboding chamber, Élise looked at what was ahead. Directly ahead was a table with a book and scattered pieces of paper. To her right was a shrine of some kind; She approached it. It was flowers and unlit candles beneath a portrait of Robespierre. But above it was a bronze crucifix. Yet something was different about it. The Christ figure was shorter. It was...Marat?
Élise's spirit recoiled in disgust. This was even worse than she thought. It was all the more poignant when she had been the one to kill the little hatemonger. Now she knew Theot was a thrall of the Apple.
She ventured towards the table that was opposite the entrance. There was a book upon it, a Bible, unsurprising. She decided to read the scattered papers.
They were some kind of emphatic ramblings. No, prayers.
LORD,
THANK YOU THAT I AM CHOSEN AND DEARLY LOVED BY THE REDEEMER OF MANKIND.
LET ME RECOGNIZE SATAN'S LIES,
AND NOT BE SEDUCED BY FALSE GOSPEL OF THE CHURCH
OR COWED INTO SUBMISSION BY THE FOREIGN BARBARIAN HORDES.
IN MAXIMILIEN ROBESPIERRE'S NAME,
AMEN.
Then another.
LORD,
LET THE WISDOM OF THE CONVENTION GUIDE ME,
AND LET ME SPREAD ITS TEACHING WITH MOST EFFICACY.
SO ONE DAY ALL MEN WILL LIVE AS BROTHERS
IN ROBESPIERRE IS YOUR DIVINE GRACE
AMEN.
Then another.
LORD,
LET THE ILLUMINATED ONES GUIDE US TO RIGHTEOUSNESS
LET US ALL BECOME SERVANTS TO ALL MANKIND IN YOUR NAME
AMEN
Élise had always thought the practice of prayer silly, but somehow the words on those papers chilled her soul. Was this the world the Illuminati was now trying to create?
She felt a presence behind her. She looked. No one was there, but she could make out writing on the wall adjacent to the door.
14/7/1789
21/1/1793
That was the date the Bastille was stormed, and the day King Louis was executed. There was one more, but it was different:
20/9/2
It was a Republican Calendar date, about two months from now. What did it mean?