Page 57

57

THE ETERNAL OPTIMIST

A s was his habit, Léon woke before dawn.

And as he had predicted, it was to a barrage of letters and three newspapers, sent by friends, delivered through the slot in the front gate.

He didn’t need to press an ear to the gate to hear the commotion on the street.

Yesterday’s abominations were ongoing.

He wrapped fingers around the board that held the gates as impenetrable as they could make them.

It clung fast.

He led the horses through to the orange and yellow garden out the back of the house, deeply, beautifully coloured in the unseasonably early autumn, and watched them for a while.

The space wasn’t nearly big enough for all four horses.

But they looked happy, especially Destroyer.

They pranced about and played as much as they could.

And what would become of them now?

Léon walked heavy steps into the still-sleeping house, carrying the mail.

When was best to tell him?

It had to be Léon to deliver the news.

But how nice for Henry to stay ignorant a while longer, healing without any stress.

Perhaps he should make him breakfast first. Take him some of Catherine’s awful coffee.

But he didn’t want to wake him.

Instead, he made the long trip back up to see if he was still sleeping.

He was not. He’d been staring up at the ceiling for some time, and turned quick eyes on Léon.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

“What?”

“Why do you keep leaving my bed?”

Léon smiled, a sting of melancholy in it.

“I went to get the mail. Are you hungry?”

“No. Not yet. I just want you.”

Léon threw the papers down at the foot of the bed and crawled over to him.

He sat cross-legged, a little distance back.

He touched fingers to his hurt arm.

“How is it?”

“Better. Much better.”

The black had retreated to a sore-looking red.

Léon never thought it could heal that fast.

Henry’s fingers tapped his thigh.

“What’s this?”

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? Lie down with me. What’s the matter?”

He was half joking, but he was right.

Léon didn’t want to get close.

He couldn’t lie there and pretend everything was okay.

So he launched into it.

“Henri, yesterday I was out for a long time, not because I got lost, though I did get lost.” He laughed lightly, Henry smiled curiously, then Léon’s face fell again.

“I saw something. And it was terrible. And I think you should know about it.”

He described the scene from beginning to end in complete and harrowing detail.

From what the mob did to the condemned, to those who partook, and those who egged them on, and what he thought was likely to have happened next.

Léon left out only two small details.

That he’d come across the horror while going to work as an executioner, and that he was worried Henry’s article had sparked the violence.

Henry listened with barely a sound, holding Léon’s hand to his chest in perfect sympathy for what he’d been through.

Léon concluded by saying, “I’m very sure that’s why you have so much mail today. And I’m very sure the papers will be full of it. So I wanted you to be prepared for what might come next.”

Despite the warning, the care with which it was given, Henry failed to understand in full.

He’d heard about the attack on the Tuileries weeks earlier.

He felt awful for what Léon had seen in the street, but after all, was it any wonder the anger of the people had finally boiled over?

Money that would have fed their starving children spent on gaudy golden displays for churches?

Wine and bread for the clergy and not a morsel for the rest?

Perhaps no one deserved to have their legs taken off with a hacksaw, but if anyone did…

He cracked the paper open without especial perturbation, but the longer he read, the dryer his mouth became.

Not a dozen priests.

Not two dozen. Over a thousand dead, average citizens, the slayings continuing all night, and ongoing that very day.

Men, women, children dragged out into the street and murdered.

Léon watched him, tense, eyes gliding across one page, then another.

“What does it say?”

Lips tight, Henry lowered his head and let out a sigh.

“What you saw yesterday… It was nothing compared to what they did afterwards.” He looked across now, his eyes dark.

“You said there were ringleaders?”

“I saw it. Men at the front, who planned the next move. When I left them, they were heading to the?—”

“To the Conciergerie,” Henry finished for him.

“The killing continues there even now. Summary trials and executions, hundreds dead. They say there are piles of corpses lining the streets. They went to a hospice. They killed the lot. The prisons have been emptied, just like I suggested they do in that article. Léon, this is not…” Henry passed a trembling hand over his face, the shake of his shoulders drawing Léon’s fingers to his cheek.

Henry shook his head, leaning into Léon.

“I don’t know what to do,” Léon said.

“I want to go out there, but Henri, there are hundreds of them.”

“You’ll only get yourself killed. You’ll stay right here. I mean it. Under no circumstances are you to leave this house. Promise me.”

“Henri… I have to get food.”

“No. No, we shall make do. We have….” Henry dropped his head into his hands.

“I was just about to get rid of the flour. God, I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re not. You’re not, Henri. You’re kind, and you’re good. And I promise, I will stay safe?—”

Henry curled a fist into Léon’s shirt.

“You are not leaving. You’re not going out there. I promised I would keep you safe. I promised I would take you away from it.” Closing his eyes, his forehead touching Léon’s, “And look what I’ve done.”

“Henri, no.” Léon kissed him.

“No. You cannot help this.”

“A war zone, you said. You were right. This is… This isn’t attacking the King. This is killing the people. This is against everything this revolution should stand for. It’s a country eating its own children. And I have delivered you straight into the belly of the beast. But that stops now.” Henry swung legs to the floor, stood, and immediately collapsed.

“Fuck!”

Léon jumped over the bed to him, arms at his waist. “Are you all right?”

“I just need to be able to…” He tried to push himself up, but got as far as his knees before the room spun away from him.

He fell back, leaning his exhausted head against the bed.

“Don’t,” Léon said. “I can do this. I can take care of us.”

“You shouldn’t have to. This was supposed to change. And then this stupid bullet wound?—”

“You saved my life, Henri. And you almost died doing it. Now you can let me take care of you for a few days.” Henry tried to argue, and Léon silenced him with a finger on his lips.

“We’re in it together. Till the end. That was your promise, wasn’t it?”

Henry’s head rolled across, his lips close by Léon’s.

“You want to leave, don’t you?”

Léon shook his head, but he said, “I can’t put émile and Souveraine through this.”

Henry laughed, bittersweet.

“Always with your barmaid.”

“She knows about us,” Léon returned.

“I told her.”

A disbelieving smile-frown furrowed Henry’s brow.

“I’m sorry?”

“émile knows too. They all know I’m in love with you. And that you love me. And except for what’s happening out there, this would be the happiest I’ve ever been. She’s in full support of us, just so you know. So you should be nicer to her. Oh, and she knows about Catherine now, too.”

Head tilting to the side, “How long was I asleep?”

Léon chuckled.

“It was a very long night. But I think Souveraine had suspicions about Catherine a long time ago.”

“And émile?”

Léon dropped his head to Henry’s shoulder, satisfied to stay on the floor and talk with him all day.

“He seems happy. He adores you. Maybe not as much as he adores Destroyer.” Henry laughed, and Léon said, “You kidnapped the right child.”

Taking his hand, “You’ve raised him so well, Léon. You’re an excellent brother.”

In all those years, Léon was so rarely told that.

“Thank you, Henri. You’re also an excellent brother.”

“I’m not.” He reached his good arm around Léon’s shoulder, kissing his temple.

“I try to be, the best I can…”

“You got her out of a terrible situation in Reims.”

Henry gave a sad scoff, gesturing to the cracks and shattered walls of his bedroom.

“And managed to throw her right into another one. All of us.”

“The most important thing is that we’re together.” Léon swivelled around so his legs were curled up against Henry’s.

“But I want you to start thinking about what we can do next. What would make you happy. Because, thanks to you, for the first time in my life, I’m thinking about what I want. For my future. And it’s you. I believe we can do this. I believe, if we stick together, nothing can hurt us. We’ve proven it. But we need to plan our next move carefully. More carefully than we’ve done everything else. It’s dangerous out there.”

Henry shifted towards him and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

“I’m not giving up. I’m going to help fix this. If that article made some impression, then why shouldn’t the next?” He groped for the bed, and Léon helped lift him back up.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to the competition. I’ll find another paper, and I’ll tell them the truth of the matter. I’m going to remind people what we’re fighting for. Help get things back on track. I’m going to condemn yesterday’s atrocities as exactly what they are. We’re fighting for freedom and fairness—safety from exactly this sort of persecution.” He pulled his inkstand across with a swath of fresh papers.

Léon watched him, heartened, but with a touch of cynical humour.

Then Henry said, “And if nothing else, it will make us some money so we can get out of here, right?” He raised his head to shoot that loving gaze straight into Léon’s heart, and how Léon loved that man.

Nothing could touch that glorious spark.

Nothing could dampen that fire.

And when he made the comment, so flippantly, Léon knew he really would leave Paris for him.

He bent over the papers to drop a final kiss on his lips.

“I love you.”

Then he turned to go downstairs, to leave Henry to his work while he attended to breakfast, but Henry called him back.

“Just so I know… When can we have sex again?” His eyes dragged over Léon’s shirt, gaping at the deep neckline.

Henry hadn’t seen nearly enough of him lately.

“You’re ravishing. And I want you. My cock’s getting hard just looking at you.”

Léon flashed a wide grin, offset with a blush that made Henry’s situation even more pressing.

“You can’t even stand.”

“I don’t need to, do I? Just come fuck my mouth.”

Léon’s stomach went through the floor.

How desperately he wanted to comply.

“You’re definitely on the mend.”

“I am. But you could make me feel a whole lot better.”

With great effort, Léon dragged himself out the door, calling over his shoulder, “We’ll talk after you eat something.”

“But that’s exactly what I wanted! Léon? Ange! Come back!”

Léon hastened down the stairs, his heart full, restored by Henry.

They would get through, and when they came out the other side, it would be nothing but sunny mornings and sex.