Authors: Gemma Holden
“
Yes.” Christian had carried it with him in the army, lugging the heavy tome through every battle and skirmish. It had become his talisman. When he was younger, he had idealised Don Quixote. Now, he realised that in the end Don Quixote had abandoned his ideals and given up his dreams of being a knight and become what his family wanted him to be. Christian had often wondered as he sat there late at night if Gaspard had been trying to tell him something by giving him the book.
Gaspard placed the book on the mantelpiece and went to the door. Christian didn
’t want him to go. He wanted him to stay, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask him.
“
Gaspard,” Christian called. Gaspard stopped. “I hope you find her.”
Gaspard turned back to face him.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for as well, my friend.” He smiled sadly and then left.
Christian picked up a bottle from under his chair, where he had left it earlier. As he pulled out the cork and raised the bottle to his mouth, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. He turned away in disgust. He felt ashamed that Gaspard had seen him like this. He had always thought that if he joined the army, he would have a purpose, a direction. Everything would suddenly make sense. He would find whatever it was he was looking for. He had always felt lost, even before Lorelei.
But, how could you find something if you didn’t know what you were looking for?
Chapter Twenty Two
They came for her soon after the Emperor
’s visit; or as close as she could judge. A year could have passed and she wouldn’t have known. She didn’t care anymore what they did to her. She had gone far away in her mind and now looked at them with vacant eyes. There was no hope of ever escaping. She was far away and everything now seemed like a dream.
Four soldiers, overseen by Doctor Barreau and Fournier, lifted her out of the water. They had unrolled a heavy white canvas on the floor and the soldiers placed her in the centre of it. They wrapped the canvas around her and then secured it with rope, binding her tail tight. The soldiers slid two poles into loops in the canvas and lifted her up. They carried her up the steps of the cellar and through the grand house, their booted feet loud on the floorboards. A breeze hit her as they carried her outside into the chill of the morning air and she began to shiver.
The men set her down in a wagon. A soldier on the other side pulled her further in. She tried to sit up, but her arms were too weak to support her. Fournier heaved himself in. His clothes were much finer than when she had seen him last. He settled next to her, fussing over her and pouring water over the canvas that wrapped her tail. He only cared because she was valuable to him, but at least someone cared for her.
The flaps were tied down and the wagon began to move. A lantern illuminated the faces of the soldiers who sat either side of her. Their eyes kept flickering to her tail and they kept their hands near their muskets as if she was a dangerous creature instead of completely helpless. Outside, she could hear the stamp of hooves and commands being shouted out in French. Fournier cursed as the wagon hit a bump. Feeling numb to it all, she lay back and stared at the canvas overhead.
It was dusk when they reached their destination and the flaps were thrown open and Fournier climbed stiffly out. The soldiers slid the poles into the loops of the canvas sling and lifted her down. The same four men carried her, Fournier following close behind.
She saw little of the outside of the place they had brought her to; just a vague shape of a very large and grand building. She thought she could hear water nearby and her body ached for it. Inside, they carried her through long corridors with high ceilings. The ceilings were gilded and decorated with frescoes of nymphs and cherubs and chandeliers with hundreds of crystals hung down like silver waterfalls. She had never seen anything so beautiful before. It was like something out of a dream. She guessed she was in the Emperor
’s palace. The letter ‘N’ was everywhere, worked into the décor and embroidered into the cushions. It could only be his.
They entered a vast room, bigger than any she had seen, with another level above. A huge tank dominated one corner of the room. They set her down on the floor and undid the rope and unwrapped her from the canvas. Not wanting to touch her, they lifted the corners of the canvas and carried her awkwardly up a little set of stairs and then tipped her into the water.
She sank to the bottom as they dropped her in. Six large panes of glass made up the tank. It was not a wooden frame, but some sort of brassy metal. For the first time in months, she could swim and at last stretch out.
The soldiers filed out, leaving her alone. Fournier stayed for a moment to look at her before following them. She hugged her tail to her chest and huddled at the bottom. The doors at the far end of the hall opened and the Emperor entered. He stopped before the tank and stood gazing at her, his hands clasped behind his back. She stared back at him. He walked around the tank, inspecting her from every angle. Eventually, he nodded to a soldier and screens were brought out and placed around her. She went to the surface, but all she could hear was the sound of the Emperor
’s footsteps retreating. She was plunged into darkness as the candles were extinguished. Afraid, she went back under.
In the morning, the screens were pulled away to reveal Fournier. She could see he was angry by the tightness around his mouth and the rigid set of his shoulders. She would have flinched, but she no longer cared if he hurt her. She was beyond that, beyond everything. He came to the top of the little set of stairs carrying a tray of food and obediently, she went to the surface. He held a glass of water to her lips and she drank it down gratefully.
“They wouldn’t let me in to see you,” Fournier said, keeping his voice low. “He has no right to take you away from me. You’re mine. I found you.”
Throughout the day people came to look at her. She recognised the doctors and scientists. They gestured to her, arguing once more. She tensed, expecting to be lifted out, to prove to them once again that she was a mermaid and that her tail was real, but to her relief they left her alone.
Later in the day, the candelabras were lit and a long table was set out with silver cutlery and fine china. The servants stole glances at her as they worked, but they would quickly avert their eyes if they saw her staring back.
Two footmen opened the huge doors and a group of people, all dressed in their court finery, came in, the Emperor at their head. Fournier trailed behind the group at the very back, looking out of place. Adrianna could see the resemblance between Napoleon and several of the other nobles. The woman who held the Emperor
’s arm, she guessed was his wife, the Empress Josephine. Adrianna could see the shock on their faces as they entered and caught sight of her. They stopped, then as one they rushed to the glass. Faces looked in at her from every side, pointing and gesturing. There was nowhere to hide. Their gowns were expensive, edged with the finest lace and embroidered with tiny pearls, and yet they were looking at her. She stared back at them. She had never been this close to so many of the nobility and she was as curious about them as they were about her.
They sat down to eat and she realised that she was meant to be the entertainment. She swam around the tank as they dined. After they had at last finished and the servants had cleared away the plates, Fournier climbed the set of steps next to the tank and gestured for her to come to the surface. Hesitantly, she swam up and put her head slowly above the water. She could hear the guests speaking, but they spoke in French so she couldn
’t understand them. Fournier beckoned her closer.
“Come here,” he said in German. There were gasps from the guests as she approached him warily.
“She understands what you are saying?” the Empress asked, now speaking German as well.
“She understands German, but nothing else,” the Emperor said before Fournier could answer.
“Can she speak?” asked a girl, who looked like a younger version of the Empress.
“She
used to, Madame,” Fournier said. “But she seems to have lost her voice.”
“
It’s remarkable.” The Empress clapped her hands together. “You must show it at the ball and let everyone see.”
Adrianna knew that she should speak and tell them that she wasn
’t meant to be a mermaid, that she was just a girl, but it had been so long since she had spoken and she was too afraid of what Fournier would do to her if she did.
The next day, the Emperor brought different guests to dinner to show her off too. Their reaction was the same; after they got over their initial shock, they stared in amazement, their faces filled with wonder and awe. When he wasn
’t with her, Napoleon kept her concealed behind a screen. Sometimes, late at night, the Emperor would come alone and stand and watch her. She wondered what he thought about as he walked around the tank. His expression was grave and his small eyes intense as he stared at her. He didn’t try and speak to her as Fournier did. She hadn't seen Fournier since that first night and she had begun to miss him. He had hurt her and threatened her, but at least she knew what to expect from him.
~~~~~
“There’s nothing I can say to change your mind?” Ducasse asked as they walked together through the gardens of the Tuileries. Fountains sprayed water in an elaborate dance either side of them and gravel crunched under their feet. Courtiers mingled on the lawns or strolled through the grounds enjoying the sunshine.
Christian shook his head.
“I’m afraid not.”
Ducasse nodded.
“It will be a shame to lose you. You would have made a good officer. Together, we could have won the war.”
“You will have to win it without me,” Christian said, relieved the General had taken his decision not to rejoin the army so well.
“What will you do?” Ducasse asked.
“I think it’
s time I went home.” Christian stopped and extended his hand. “I will never be able to repay you for saving my life. But thank you. For everything.”
Ducasse clasped his hand tightly. A frown formed on his forehead as he stared over Christian
’s shoulder. Following the General’s gaze, Christian turned around. Ducasse appeared to be watching a heavy set man in his early fifties, with black greying hair. He wore full military uniform. A group of women surrounded him and he appeared to be enjoying their attention.
“Do you know him?” Christian asked when the General continued to frown and stare.
Ducasse shook his head slowly. “I thought I did. His name is Fournier. We served in the army together. But I don’t know what he’s doing here in Paris. He was just a captain when I last saw him.”
The name sounded familiar, but Christian couldn
’t remember where he had heard it.
“Fournier,” Ducasse called, making his way over to him.
Fournier turned, a slow smile spreading over his face. He made his apologies to his female companions and headed toward them. Christian could smell wine on the man’s clothes as he approached.
“Ducasse,” Fournier said, clapping the General on the back. “I didn’
t know you were in Paris.”
“I didn’
t expect to find you here either,” Ducasse said, his voice tight.
“I’m here as the Emperor’
s personal guest. He invited me himself.”
“I wasn’
t aware you had the Emperor’s favour. There was a rumour you had deserted, taking several of the men under your command with you.”
Fournier
’s smile became more forced. “That was a misunderstanding. I was charged with undertaking a special mission by the Emperor himself.”
Ducasse didn’t seem convinced by his friend
’s words. “I’m glad you gave up that silly idea about a mermaid.”
Fournier smiled smugly as if he was privy to a joke that only he knew. Christian didn
’t like the expression on his face.
“What did you mean about a mermaid,” he asked Ducasse once they had continued their walk.
Ducasse shrugged. “It’s nothing. It’s just something he said to me once. He claimed he had seen a mermaid in the river, but it was just his imagination.” Ducasse looked thoughtful for a moment. “He claimed to have seen it in the Rhine, near St Goarshausen. Tell me, Your Highness, did you see any mermaids when you were staying at the castle?”
Christian laughed, but something at the back of his mind stirred. He remembered being in the water that night he had jumped in after Lorelei. He remembered a girl, stroking back the hair from his forehead, and something else in the water. Something thick and scaly.
“You’ve gone pale,” Ducasse remarked.
“My leg is hurting. I’
ve walked too far.”
“There must be another reason why he was promoted.” Ducasse chuckled. “As if he could find a mermaid.”
Christian smiled, but his mind kept going back to that night he had jumped into the river. Fournier was the name of the man Gaspard had been looking for, he was sure of it. He needed to find Gaspard. He wanted to go home, back to St Goarshausen and far away from talk of mermaids. And he wanted Gaspard to go with him.
“What day is it?” he asked his valet when he arrived back at his lodgings.
“Saturday, Your Highness,” his valet replied in his usual dour voice.
The day of the Emperor
’s ball. Gaspard would be there. He would find him and convince him to come home with him. He had a sudden urge to get out of the city.
He looked at himself in the mirror. Dark circles from too little sleep ringed his eyes and several days growth dusted his face. His nails, once immaculate, were broken and torn. Like he was broken, he thought.
“Your Highness, may I help you with something,” his valet asked.
“
Yes,” Christian said, “you can draw me a bath.”
“
Are you going somewhere, Your Highness?”
“I’m going
to the ball.” The man looked relieved, no doubt pleased that his master was going somewhere other than the nearest tavern. His valet started to take out his uniform from the wardrobe. “Not that one,” Christian said. “Lay out my evening clothes instead.”
After his bath, he dressed in white breeches, black polished boots and a white waistcoat and jacket. For the first time in months, he looked in the mirror and he didn’t look away. It was almost as if the last year had never happened. But the scars under his clothes would never fade.
His valet found him a carriage. For once, he left the cane behind. He stepped out and made his way through the palace to the ballroom. He took a deep breath and then joined the line of people waiting to be announced. When it was his turn, he handed his invitation to a footman.