Tannhauser 02: The Twelve Children of Paris (88 page)

Tannhauser bent to the girth strap. Clementine’s belly was so distended he couldn’t get a finger under. He unbuckled it and Clementine staggered with relief. He removed the saddle and blanket and spread them on the quay. He took Grégoire and laid him flat on the blanket and rested his mutilated leg over the saddle. Juste sat cross-legged beside him and held Grégoire’s hand. Tannhauser gave him the wineskin.

‘See if he’ll take a mouthful. You, too.’

Tannhauser studied the charcoal barge. It was filled to the gunwales with gaping sacks of lump char, stacked to within four feet of the tiller. The sacks were footed with damp from the rain. What he had in mind might have been designed by Grymonde under opium. He took one of the lumps. It crumbled easily. Not smelting quality, but that meant it would ignite more readily. The problem was to get it to ignite at all.

‘This lot must be worth a franc or two, sire.’

Tannhauser sized up Hervé.

‘Hervé, I’m going to put you to work.’

‘You’ll not find a man more willing, sire.’

Tannhauser illustrated with his hands.

‘Take those sacks from the rear row and empty them on top of the sacks at the front of the barge, midship. Spread a nice loose bed, two palms deep. Cover the tops of about six sacks, longwise with the barge. Understand?’

‘Spread it and bed it, sire. You don’t have to tell me twice.’

‘Take more sacks from the back and make two rows, the sacks end on end, like so, on either side of the bed, again, longwise with the barge.’

‘It might help if I knew what we’re up to, sire.’

‘I’m going to set fire to it.’

Tannhauser took the
spontone
and led Clementine to a nearby garden. The boys were too lost in pain and fatigue to see him go. He stopped her and stepped back and took a short grip, the shaft over his shoulder. The mare rolled one large eye to look at him.

‘You deserved a better life, and a better death, but in that you’re not alone.’

Clementine seemed satisfied with this valediction. She turned her head away. Tannhauser lanced her clean through the upper neck behind the jaws and felt the scrape of the spine along the upper edge. He whipped his arm over the shaft and threw down with his weight and pulled and severed her neck, outwards through the throat. The mare staggered sideways and her front legs folded and he stepped back as she fell towards him. An immense surge of blood swilled over his boots and he felt a twinge of nausea. He welcomed the scant evidence it offered of some remnant to his humanity. Clementine’s eyes rolled white and her chest heaved for air and the blood whistled and bubbled from her windpipe. The sounds weren’t loud enough to carry. Tannhauser blinked the grit from his eyes. For the spilling of human blood he could afford no such qualms. He wiped the
spontone
on the scarred and quivering hide, and turned away, and left the old grey mare to her passing.

He stepped down into the skiff. It smelled of fish and tar. They’d had their pick from the craft on the Right Bank and someone had known how to choose. Clinker-built, fifteen feet long and four and a half in the beam; full ends. The long yardarm and its pivot with the mast made it a lateen sail, with which he was well acquainted. The whole rig could be lowered and raised with ease for passing under bridges. Three oars. He recovered the fourth from the quay. A boathook. Two lanterns. He picked up three swords and threw them on the quay, and stowed the knives and a fourth sword safe beneath the helmsman’s seat. A built-in chest that he didn’t open. He checked the rudder. A sturdy boat, river or sea. He climbed out.

He went to the smaller boat and found two oars and a lantern. He snuffed the lantern and added his finds to the swords on the quay.

Grymonde hadn’t moved since he’d left him. His hands still clenched his thighs. But for the blood that trickled from his shirt and overbrimmed the tops of his boots, he might have been the stony idol of some race from ancient myth.

Tannhauser walked past him to Irène’s. Pascale met him at the door. His rifle was propped against the wall. His saddle wallets and two holstered pistols draped her either shoulder. The twin-barrelled pistol was stuck in her belt. Pure pride kept her standing. If he’d had a heart to spare, he would have broken it for her. He mustered a grin instead. It came easily enough. She grinned back and he saw the gap in her teeth that had given him his first faint intimation of her mettle. He pointed at the Peter Peck in her belt.

‘Did the Devil’s Apprentice reload?’

‘It’s easier than setting type.’

‘I fear country life will disappoint you. Wait here.’

He took her by the waist and pulled her aside and went through the door.

Carla had Amparo in her arms, with Estelle and the Mice in front of her, ready to go. Hugon stood behind her with a satchel over either hip and a sack in each fist. Tannhauser beckoned them outside. He took the wallets and holsters from Pascale and loaded them onto Hugon, who swayed beneath the weight.

‘Why can’t she carry ’em?’

‘Put this gear in the skiff. Keep the powder dry.’

‘This gear? There is no more. I’m carrying the lot.’

‘If the burden’s too great I’ll take that gold collar back.’

Hugon reeled towards the boat. Tannhauser went in the kitchen. He saw a wicker basket filled with faggots. He took the kitchen table, turned it on its side and dragged it outside and flipped it on its top. The legs were braced with panels fore and aft.

‘Pascale, I need kindling. Faggots, candles, lamp oil. Stack it in here.’

He put an arm around Carla and walked her to the skiff. Estelle and the Mice followed them.

‘There’s a boom across the river at the Louvre,’ said Tannhauser, ‘boats chained end to end. Much the greater danger will come from the Right Bank, from Garnier. On the Left Bank there shouldn’t be more than a token guard, and few or none to reinforce them. I’m going to hit the boom right of centre. I’ll bring the barge in sideways, stern to port. The fire in the bow will stop them crossing on foot from the Right Bank. I’ll board the boom and break it.’

‘How?’

‘A chain’s not going to stop me. What do you think?’

Carla looked away to see the scheme in her mind. She looked back at him.

‘A chain’s not going to stop us.’

Tannhauser grinned.

‘I want you to hold back until I signal to you to pick me up. They should be shooting at me, but if you can pull around the head of the island when we part, I’ll feel better.’

‘There are two small islands off the tip of the City. We can hold there.’

‘There’s a dock at the Hôtel-Dieu, I doubt Notre-Dame will be guarded. If I fail –’

‘I’ll hear no such talk.’

‘Carla, I’ve been meaning to tell you. You’ve never looked more beautiful.’

She smiled. ‘I’ll hear no lies either.’

The world was in flames all around her, yet she still had a smile to strengthen his spirit. Her courage overwhelmed him. He swallowed.

‘I never spoke truer in my life.’

Carla squeezed his hand, heedless of the blood that stained it.

Tannhauser squeezed hers.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘if I have my bearings right, we’ve three furlongs of water between the Millers’ Bridge and the boom. The militia don’t boast many archers or guns, but I can’t say what help they’ve recruited. If we come under fire, it will be from the wharves on that stretch. When we clear the bridges, fall in on my larboard side until we reach the islands.’

‘Beware the sandbanks,’ she said. ‘Especially the Right Bank.’

‘The run-off from the rain should give us some leeway. Now, if you see the boom open but you don’t see me –’

‘Then stay in sight.’

They stopped at the skiff. He pulled her to him. He looked at Amparo. She seemed to gaze back at him. He sensed the wheel of eternity turn, its speed either too great to imagine or with so little haste he could not know if it had ever shifted at all. He felt Carla’s eyes on him and he looked at her. Her face was so pale. His chest tightened. He didn’t know what to say. Carla stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

‘We’ll meet you at the boom.’

Carla stepped back. He had covered her frock with blood.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘It isn’t mine.’

She gave him one of her smiles. ‘I love your oldest jokes.’

‘Which reminds me, Orlandu loves his new sister and is strong in heart.’

‘You mean he’s hurt.’

‘Orlandu’s a Maltese yard boy. He’s as tough as the Infant.’

He saw her bite on many questions. She held his hand tighter and climbed down into the skiff. With a sure step she settled at the tiller and studied the boat.

Tannhauser turned to the boys and saw Grégoire’s stump. He picked him up. The lad murmured and flinched. The opium was working.

‘Hugon, take the saddle and blanket, make a place for him, near Carla.’

Grégoire opened his eyes. They were dreamy.

‘Is Clementine gone?’

‘Clementine’s soul is free, as her body never was.’

‘Clementine helped save the baby, too, didn’t she?’

‘You saved the baby, brother. You saved me.’

‘Master? Can I ask you a favour?’

‘You never asked before, so ask away.’

‘Don’t kill Hervé.’

Grégoire’s eyes were as clear as a silver mirror.

Tannhauser blinked at what he saw therein. He nodded.

Grégoire closed his eyes.

‘Hugon, jump out and hold her steady.’

Tannhauser stepped into the skiff and settled Grégoire on the strakes as best he could. He reached up and beckoned the Mice and lifted them down one by one. He called Juste. Hugon pulled Juste up by his good arm and the boy gasped with pain but didn’t protest. Tannhauser saw him into the boat and sat him with the others. No one complained about the blood. He had left the rowing benches unoccupied. He climbed out.

‘Are you an oarsman, Hugon?’

‘No.’

‘Go and help Pascale fetch the kindling. Drag the whole table.’

‘It would be nice if Pascale helped me.’

‘You’ve got forty years’ wages round your neck.’

Tannhauser picked up the oars and the swords and went to the charcoal barge. The fire pit had been built with such perfection that even Hervé, checking that the angles were true from the stern, appeared to find no flaw. He had left palm-width gaps between the upper sacks to improve the draught. Tannhauser detected a faint cross-breeze.

‘Hervé, when I buy the Louvre and turn it into a brothel, I’ll hire you to plaster it.’

‘You’ll find none more reasonable, sire, especially for a job that size, though there’s them as would say that no such alteration would be needed.’

‘Now, I want you to build a redoubt, there, to the right of the tiller.’

‘You mean a kind of wall, sire?’

‘Exactly.’

Hervé pointed to a collection on the quay. ‘I found them on that other barge, sire. Not strictly honest, I’ll allow, but they’ll burn a treat. Caulking pitch in the bucket, the coil of rope is tarred, and so is that rain canvas. Spread that on top and whoosh.’

Tannhauser turned as Pascale and Hugon reeled over and dropped their improvised handbarrow, which they’d carried by its legs. They were stunned with fatigue. Had any but Tannhauser received them, Pascale would have sunk to the stones. Had she not been a girl, so would Hugon. The table was heaped with combustible materials. The char was hardly needed.

‘Excellent,’ said Tannhauser. ‘I want you to build a fire in this pit. Pour the pitch over the bed, then the faggots, not too tight, leave me a trough at the back for the torch. Next –’

‘We know how to build a fire,’ said Hugon.

‘We?’ said Pascale. ‘I thought you didn’t like girls.’

‘I don’t.’

Tannhauser saw Grymonde talking with Estelle on the quay. He went over. The Infant still hadn’t moved, his pain such that each word stole his breath.

‘La Rossa, on these very quays, you once asked me –’ Grymonde faltered. He set himself. He beamed at her with gapped teeth. ‘If one day we could sail away.’

Estelle near danced on the spot. ‘You do remember every word!’

‘Now we will sail away. We’ll be on different boats, and mine will go farther than yours. If I’m lucky, and luck runs in the family, it will go more swiftly, too. But now you must remember my words. Wherever you go, the dragon will be with you. Always.’

‘Estelle,’ said Tannhauser. ‘Get in the skiff. Careful of the wounded.’

‘Tannzer, Pascale’s got my Peter Peck and won’t give it back.’

‘I’ll see you get it. For now, go and help Carla and your sister.’

Estelle looked at Grymonde. He nodded. She skipped away. Tannhauser picked up the two swords he had pulled from Grymonde’s gut.

‘I’m not easily moved to pity,’ he began.

Grymonde clenched his teeth on a short laugh. ‘Prithee, peace.’

‘Say the word and I’ll kill you now.’

Grymonde shoved on his thighs and stood tall. The sightless holes turned.

‘Spend that rarest of coins on him who needs it. Put me on your hell ship.’

Grymonde swayed. Tannhauser already knew he wasn’t fit to pole the barge.

‘The hell ship is full. Can you handle a pair of oars?’

‘I was born by this river.’

‘What I ask is do you have the strength?’

Grymonde groped for Tannhauser’s forearm and squeezed.

‘My Infant, my hand is turning black.’

‘It will match your filthy soul.’

‘Carla has the tiller. Mark her orders.’

‘I’ve been marking your wife’s orders since the moment I met her.’

‘That, too, we have in common.’

‘Too?’

Tannhauser guided him to the skiff, Grymonde forcing the pace.

‘Pascale will man the second bench,’ said Tannhauser.

‘Must that girl best me at the rowlocks as well?’

‘We’re here. Stop. I want you on your arse, legs over the quay. I’ll take you under the arms from behind and let you down.’

Tannhauser dropped the swords. He wrestled Grymonde’s immense weight to the flags and manoeuvred his legs into the boat, just astern of the for’ard row bench. He put Grymonde’s right hand to the gunwale and held the boat steady with both his own.

‘Your left leg is hard to the bench. Put your left hand on the bench and sit.’