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39

A SHARP TURNAROUND

H enry rushed Léon out the door of the inn to speak freely.

He was perfectly insistent they should depart at once and try to overtake them on some imaginary ‘faster road’ he’d conjured up.

Léon had never been to Amiens, and he’d certainly never been to Paris, and it took a lot of convincing Henry that there would be no faster road and no beating them there.

Especially since they had no idea when they’d actually set out.

“No,” said Henry. “And they haven’t explained why either. Shit!” Worryingly serious, Henry turned on his heel and made towards Destroyer.

“We’ll need new horses, and we’ll need to ride now. Fast. Try to find some sort of shortcut.”

Léon jogged in front of Henry.

“What is it? I thought you’d be happy about this.”

“I am. It’s just that… That’s…” He looked down, setting his brow.

“She’s given my father’s address.” Léon’s anxiety kicked up a notch, so Henry continued, for Léon’s sake, “They will be safe there—Souveraine and émile. He’ll give them shelter, I’m sure of it, once they explain whatever the hell they’re going to explain. But Catherine…” After a harassed search of the ground, as though he might find the solution there, he spat out, “Jesus Christ, I can’t believe she’s done this! Why, after all these years?”

Fairly quietly, Léon admitted.

“It’s my fault.” He winced at the flash of Henry’s eyes.

“I told her you’d been arrested.”

“You did what?” he shouted.

“I expressly told you not to tell her that!”

“Yes, well, you didn’t expressly tell me she’d have a magical breakdown and destroy half the town and then go running to your evil father. I didn’t want to lie to her!”

With an accusatory flippancy, “You should be dead right now.”

“Right, okay, well, I’m not dead, and…” He took a deep breath.

“Listen, there’s more.”

“More?” Henry panicked.

“More? How can there be more?”

“Shhh!” He pressed calming hands on Henry’s chest. “When your sister was in prison, and I had to find out what she was in for, they were telling me her history.” Henry nodded impatiently.

“Your family came up. That the authorities had tried to contact your father in Paris. And that you supposedly had.”

“A thousand times,” Henry agreed.

“And the bastard never responded.”

“No, because he wasn’t there.”

With a narrowing of his eyes, “What do you mean he wasn’t there? How can you know that?”

“They told me he fled. Months ago. Because of tension in the city. This is what I’m telling you, Henri. Paris isn’t what you think it is?—”

“Of course it is!” Henry cut him off, switching jarringly from panicked to excited in the space of a heartbeat.

“But Léon, can’t you see? This is fantastic!”

“I thought this was a disaster?” Léon said, befuddled, as Henry’s hands fell on his shoulders.

“It was, but it’s not now. Not if he’s not there.” His hands flew together with a happy clap.

“Ange, this is perfect!”

“It is?”

“It is! This is the very thing. Everyone, right where we want them. In Paris!”

“But I don’t want émile or Souveraine in Paris!” Léon protested.

“You need to just calm down. Don’t you think all these reports, all these awful things you keep hearing, maybe it’s propaganda?”

“No, I never thought that, not once.”

“It’s that bastard ex-king, Louis. Of course, he’s spreading all kinds of terrible rumours about the city. You can’t really believe the streets are running red.”

“There’s a surprising amount of blood in one human body,” Léon mused.

“Then there you have it! You know, Robespierre, when I knew him, was staunchly against the death penalty. Why would that have changed?” Léon opened his mouth to speak, and was cut off with, “Truly, I promise you, now they’re at the house, which they probably already are, everything will be totally fine. No more troubles, from here on out. You can trust me on this.”

“I don’t know if?—”

“And Léon!” He grasped Léon’s hands, curling his body against him in feverish excitement, so taken with all the very new and wonderful ideas flooding his mind.

“We would be idiots to travel by daylight, wouldn’t we? We-we-we could get caught, right?”

Léon gave a small shrug.

“Well, yes, but we have to catch up?—”

“So what if,” he leaned in close, lowering his voice, “we hide out here.”

Léon looked around, stupefied.

“What do you mean? Where?”

Henry nodded towards the closed door of the inn.

“No one else has seen us. It’s still early. Let’s just… spend the day here. Together…”

“Another day?” Léon whispered.

He scanned the door like it was a gateway to Heaven.

Like Henry’s suggestion was some distant and mythical concept far too removed from reality to be a possibility.

“We can’t just?—”

“Yes, we can,” Henry said firmly.

“They’ll be safe, I promise you.”

“But—”

“And you’re not doing them any favours by getting caught.”

“I hadn’t intended to get?—”

“And the horses are tired. And Destroyer and Azazel really want to come to Paris.”

“Azazel?”

“Come on, Léon. Please. Please. Please.” And this last word he continued to repeat every time Léon attempted another sentence until his exuberance verily beat Léon into submission.

“Okay. Do you think…” Léon glanced at the door again, keen but anxious.

“What if… What if they find out? About us…. wanting to be… together?”

“It’s okay. We’ll get two rooms. Or-or a room with two beds, and that will be that. It’s totally common. Nothing to worry about.”

“Do you think so?” One more day.

One more precious day.

“I do. Come. This is going to be amazing.” With that, Henry flung the door open, and dropped Léon’s hand only a fraction of a second before the innkeeper looked up.

Henry stepped up to the counter.

“We’d like two rooms, please. Just for the day. We’ll be going to Paris to meet his wife this evening.”

“Yes, my wife, who I’m married to,” Léon said, to some stern eyes from Henry.

He was beginning to like that jealous look.

“I can’t wait to see her again.”

With a sharp tone that made Léon’s heart beat hard, Henry asked, “Do you have anything available?”

“I’m afraid…” The man ran his fingers down the long page of a large book, searching over the entries.

“I have only one room left.”

“We’ll take it,” said Henry.

“But there is a problem,” said the man.

“What problem can there be?” asked Léon, a desperately eager edge to his voice.

“Well…” said the man, ever so slowly—so slowly both Henry and Léon wanted to shout at him.

“The thing is… there is… only… one bed…”

“Oh no,” Henry replied, trying to suppress the quiver of a laugh in his voice.

“That’s terrible,” said Léon, trying to smother his smile.

“But if we have to make do…” started Henry.

“Then we will simply have to make do,” Léon finished.

“Your wife managed fine with her friend,” the man offered.

“The boy fit on the couch, but two men like you…”

“Quite big,” said Henry, on a smirk.

Léon, on a blush, replied, “I’ll have to find a way to make you fit.”

“I’ll fit all right,” Henry murmured deeply.

On feeling the press of his knee, Léon was about ready to drop to the floor and take him right then and there.

Coolly, Henry signed for the room, then asked, “And can you please send up a wash basin? With… so much water. A lot of water. Very hot. And an extra lamp with fresh oil. I have some work to do.”

Léon gave him a sideways glance.

“And food,” he said, his stomach rumbling.

“Um… anything.”

Henry latched on.

“Bread and meat?—”

“And wine!” added Léon.

“Wine,” agreed Henry, “and also… butter. Please.” He looked across at Léon, barely able to drag his eyes from the flushed cheeks and parted lips that took his meaning.

“We’ll need a lot of butter. I want the biggest piece of butter imaginable.” For the sake of decency he added, “I eat it like cheese.”

“I also eat it like cheese,” Léon threw in.

“So, even more butter again, for me.”

“You’ll need a lot of butter,” Henry said.

Léon let out an undignified squeak, then clamped his lips shut.

The man stared at the two of them for a very long moment, then, “Oh! I almost forgot. Your wife left your bags here. She said you would forward them on. Shall I bring them up?”

“My clothes!” Henry just about wept in sheer happiness.

“My actual clothes!” He turned to Léon, fingers closing fast into fists as he attempted to avoid taking his hands.

“You see? Fate is finally beginning to smile on us.”