THE ALTERED COURSE

BY:  ROSE CARR

CHAPTER NINE

Javert had been riding for sometime, watching the afternoon shadows grow longer and give way to the pale violet hues of twilight. He had felt uneasy for the last several miles, and although his keen eyesight and hearing told him nothing was amiss, the feeling that caused the fine hair on the back of his neck to prickle, said otherwise. It was this "policeman's intuition" that had saved his life on many occasions that he had come to rely on over the years, and he trusted it more then the things he could see and hear.

It was growing dark when he spotted the dim yellow lights of a farm house. Good he thought, he would stop and ask the owner for a night's shelter. If trouble came, he could better defend himself in an enclosed space, and he admitted to himself, he could use the rest. His muscles were starting to protest loudly against the long hours in the saddle. Riding closer he was pleased to see a small stable beside the house; it would be the perfect place to spend the night.

The barking of an unseen dog announced Javert's arrival as he rode into the small courtyard, bringing a stoop-shouldered old man dressed in nightcap and gown to the door. His gnarled hand held high a sputtering oil lantern whose pale light cast eerie shadows across the yard. The old man squinted watery blue eyes trying to get a better look at his visitor calling out, "Hello, who is there? Please identify yourself."

"My name is Javert ... Monsieur, I am an Inspector of the First Class from Paris, escorting a prisoner back to the city. I wish shelter for myself and the horses, also a place that I might secure the prisoner." Instantly the little man was all smiles, jumping into action, befitting his important guest.

"Oui, but of course Monsieur, we provide shelter for many a weary traveler. Amandine, Girard," he called, come we have a guest." A plump, apple cheeked woman in a white ruffled cap, and belted cotton robe appeared at his side. "My name is Leon, Monsieur and this is my wife Amandine, a finer cook you will never see, and this strapping young man is our grandson Girard. Please Monsieur, get down off your horse, Girard will help you with your horses." Javert dismounted handing Liberte's reigns to the young boy, but kept control of the mare with it's dubious burden as they led the horses to the stable.

Girard was young, a boy of about 12, curious about the beefy, scarred-faced prisoner Javert untied and dragged down off the mare.

"What did he do Monsieur?" Girard ask as he watched Javert shackle Gautier to a wooden post.

"I caught a little boy, and ate him!" Gautier snarled, baring yellowed teeth. The youngster jumped backward in fright, falling over a water bucket in his attempt to get away from Gautier's menacing face. A quick elbow to Gautier's head cut short his bitter snort of laughter. "Do not bother the boy," Javert said. "And you young man, finish your chores and be on your way. This is no place for you."

After the prisoner had eaten the meal brought to him, Javert rechecked his manacles, satisfying himself that they were secure before he left to eat his own supper. He was pleasantly surprised when Madam Amandine handed him a wash bowl holding a soft clean towel and bar of soap. Washing up made him feel a new man and the delicious smell of baking bread sharpened his appetite. Sitting down at the table, a plate heaped with boiled potatoes and roasted chicken was set before him, complimented by the thick crusty bread and a flask of home made wine. Anxious to hear any news from Paris the couple plied him with questions as he ate, nodding and smiling their delight at each bit of news. Declining their offer to sleep in the house, he insisted on paying them for the meal and lodging before returning to the stable.

Entering the stable Javert's nose twitched, his lips curling in disgust at the sight of Gautier sprawled on the floor asleep, noisy wet snores escaping from his slack open mouth. Finding a position where he could see the entrance to the stable and keep an eye on his prisoner, Javert sank down on the straw covered floor, enjoying the luxury of stretching his legs after having them bent and cramped from the long hours in the saddle. Dragging his greatcoat across him to ward off the slight chill, he laid his head back against the wooden rung of the horse stall, and allowed himself to relax for a moment. What was she doing at this minute he wondered. Thinking of him? Raising his fingers to his lips, the memory of her long slim fingers, the taste of her lips, the way she moved beneath him flooded his senses. Closing his eyes the image of her breathy acceptance to be his wife washed over him, filling him with a fiery need for her so intense it left him heated and trembling with desire. A shuddering sigh escaped him, his memories of her vivid enough to make his breath catch in his throat and his body ache for her touch. He did not like being away from her, he did not like it at all. Settling back he pulled his coat closer around him and wished the night to pass quickly, the sooner this matter was taken care of, the sooner she could be in his arms.

***

Adele sat bathed in the light of a flickering candle, mending shirts and watching with troubled eyes the sleeping Richelleen. She had fallen asleep early, after telling Adele the days events had worn at her more than she thought possible. Adele worried as she watched her long time friend toss and turn, hoping that Javert would soon return. She suspected it was his absence and not fatigue or pending motherhood that was the cause of her uneasy sleep. Hearing the hoof beats of an approaching rider, Adele laid her mending down, crossing to the door to see who it was. Oh the devil, she thought, it was Gaspar and he was alone! Throwing on her shawl, she stepped out to see what news Gaspar had brought. She fervently hoped nothing had gone wrong.

Gaspar was standing in a tight circle of men, explaining what had taken place in the village. He saw Adele waiting a few feet away and made his way over to her. "How is Richelleen?" he asked.

"She is sleeping, but not well. She worries about him."

Nodding he said, "I understand, please tell her everything is going well and he will get in touch with her as soon as possible."

"Of course I will Gaspar... I will deliver the message personally when she awakes. For now, I think sleep is the best thing for her."

Adele left the young man to his preparations, deciding she had been neglecting her family the last couple of days and went to check on them while Richelleen was sleeping.

Gaspar was in the clearing, tying a soft leather pouch filled with supplies to his horse's saddle when he heard footsteps come up behind him.

"Gaspar," came Richelleen's voice. "Where is Javert, tell me, is he all right?"

"Richelleen....they told me you were sleeping. There is nothing wrong........ truly, I would tell you if something were. As soon as Javert made the decision to take the prisoner Gautier back to Paris, he asked me to come back and tell you what he had planned. He did not want you to worry." Gaspar stopped his work, turning his head to watch her. "You know I had hard feelings about him when I first met him, but since then...the things that have happened.... well...I think he is a good man. And he really....... he really loves you Richelleen, any fool can see that."

"Thank you Gaspar," she said. " I know none of this has been easy for you and your acceptance of our relationship means more to me than you can know. And you are right, he is a good man. So, please hurry back to him. I have an uneasy feeling about this mission he has chosen to undertake. Perhaps you might consider taking some of the other men with you, just to be safe. You know what they say," she said, hiding her anxiety behind a tremulous smile. "There is safety in numbers."

"Hum...that is not a bad idea Richelleen, Vincien and some of the others had asked to go with me. I think I will go tell them I want them to come. Do not worry." he said putting a reassuring arm around her shoulder. "Monsieur Javert will be fine, he is a smart man and he knows how to take care of himself better than any man I have ever seen. We will get word to you as soon as possible. I promise."

Richelleen stayed until all the preparations had been made, and watched the young men ride away. She watched until she could see them no more, ignoring the cool wind that rustled the hem of her thin shawl, raising goose bumps along the back of her arms. After a long while she drew a quivering breath, raised her chin and started to walk back to the camp. A faint fluttering deep inside her halted her steps. Touching her stomach in wonder, feeling the quickening of their child she turned to look back down the road, hoping he could somehow feel her thoughts and share this moment with her. 'Be careful my love,' she whispered, 'be careful.'

***

Something woke him, and for a moment he did not know what it was, then it came to him. Silence, everything was too quiet. Even Gautier no longer snored. Javert sat perfectly still, watching the shadows along the north wall of the stable, there were two of them, maybe three. The metallic whisper of a knife blade sliding from it's sheath reached his ears and he tensed, holding his breath, waiting for the assault he knew was coming. Something moved, glittering silver in the pale moonlight. His eyes searched the shadows, where were they? Suddenly a scuffle broke out only a few feet from his position, a surprised cry of pain came from Gautier, " No you fool, not me, he's over there!" He caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and rolled quickly aside managing to evade the attackers lunge by inches. Instantly Javert was on his feet, striking out at the shadowy figure, ramming his steely fist upward into the man's stomach, and was rewarded by a grunt of pain as he heard his assailant fall and lay still, moaning softly.

"Did you get him?" a gravely voice growled from the dark.

Muffling his speech, Javert whispered "Yeah...!"

"Hold him still." the man in the dark rasped. "I want to mark him.... before I cut his throat."

Javert lashed out at the approaching figure with a side kick catching him in the pit of the stomach and heard the body hit the ground with a jarring thud. Standing he wiped the sweat from his brow and waited, his eyes raking the darkened stall for any movement. Too late Javert heard the whistling sound of a club slicing through the air, felt the rush of air on his cheek as he ducked, the club catching him on the shoulder with numbing force. He gasped in pain, but his training took over and he reacted without thought, lunging in the direction of his attacker, sending both of them crashing to the ground. Kicking clear of the man's grappling hands he fought to clear the pain that clouded his head as he scrambled to his feet. Reaching out blindly, his steely fingers grabbed the assassin's jacket and jerked the cursing man to his knees, striking him three, four times in the face, his flashing fists coming down for another blow when he felt a hand grab his arm.

Letting go of the man's jacket he jerked his arm free whirling around to face this new assailant. " Hey, hey!" a man's voice cried out. "Javert....it's me Gaspar!" It took him several seconds before he realized the threat was over, his broad chest heaving, taking in great gulps of air as he rasped out, "Nice of you to show up Gaspar.......... but your timing could have been better."

Surveying the scene before him Gaspar laughed, "Looks as if you were handling the situation just fine without our help."

Javert's wry smile turned into a grimace as a fresh wave of pain burned it's way through his shoulder, forcing him to grit his teeth.

"Javert! You are wounded?" Gaspar said, suddenly sounding a little alarmed.

"No," Javert said. "I have no serious injury, I will be fine." From experience he knew it would pass, therefore the pain would be ignored. Seeing the two young men standing at the entrance to the barn, Javert asked them to come in and secure the unconscious men and tend to the wounded Gautier. Satisfied with the efficient way they were handling the situation he walked outside to the water pump, plunging his head in the icy water of the trough to clear his head.

Gaspar followed behind him, "Any idea of why they attacked you?" he asked.

"I got the distinct impression they were trying to kill me," Javert said, scowling as he moved the offending shoulder around in circles. "I suspect their main objective was to free Gautier. Fortunately one of them was not very bright and wound up stabbing the wrong man."

"So, instead of only one wretched mongrel to take back to Paris, we now we have four! I am glad I listened to Richelleen and brought extra men back with me," Gaspar said.

"Richelleen," Javert said, his face lighting up at the sound of her name. "Please tell me how she is."

"She is well," Gaspar said. "And..... she sends her love."

Javert smiled at the young man. He was beginning to like him. "Thank you Gaspar, I know that our relationship has been hard for you to accept because of the way your brother felt about......"

"It is all right Javert," Gaspar said. "There was never any reason for my brother to believe that Richelleen would marry him, he....he has problems. He is however, the one who is responsible for what happened to him, not you, not Richelleen. You have nothing to apologize for."

"You are far wiser than your years Gaspar, I see now why Andre thinks so highly of you. Thank you for understanding. Now, for the problem at hand. We will have to make arrangements to use the wagon I saw out back to transport the prisoners. We still have a long road ahead of us."

Javert knew the old couple had been awakened, he saw them peeking through front window as he made his way to the door. They were happy to cooperate and lend them their wagon, refusing to take any money from him. Gaspar, Vencien and the other young man were cleaning up the damage done in the stable having tied up the three men who had attacked Javert. Gaspar and Javert took two of the horses, rigging them to pull the wagon. The trip would take longer now with the addition of the three men. The preparations completed, Javert and the rest of the men were on their way to Paris before the sun came up.

As they rode away Gaspar's thought about his real reasons for going to Paris. He did want to see the man he had captured during the raid on his camp brought to justice, but he also hoped he might make contact with his brother. He thought of him often and missed him terribly.

***

Roland poured the molten silver into the heavy lead mold for the silver chalice he was making when he heard Father Verchese calling his name. "It is time for vespers Roland, are you coming?"

"Yes, Father," he said. "Give me a moment to clean up please." Roland found himself looking forward to this time of prayer and meditation. He never considered himself to be a religious man but he found it helped clear his mind. The long talks he had with the priest had led him to examine his life and what he had become. Although he was a man of intelligence and capable of love and kindness he knew he had become ruthless in his single-minded obsession to obtain that one goal, one love that eluded him. To satisfy his own desire, his own ego, he had risked everything. He only hoped all was not lost and he could again see his brother, whom he dearly missed. The road back would be long and hard, but he knew it would be worth it. Completing his chores he joined the Father in the hallway. As they walked towards the main chapel Roland said, "Father Verchese, there is something I want to talk to you about." The priest looked at him expectantly and he continued on. "There are some men who have come to me, men I knew from......from before. They are not of good character Father and they have ask me to help them steal from the church."

"Steal, steal money?" said the priest. "No, not money. They have their eyes set on the precious icons of silver and gold. They are sure they could sell them and make a fortune."

"And what was your answer to them Roland?" the priest asked as he walked along beside him, his arms folded inside the large sleeves of his cloak.

"No, of course it was no." Roland said. "But I am afraid that just because I will not help them, it will not be enough to discourage them. Perhaps you may consider closing the church during the night, or posting a guard..."

"Close the church doors? Post a guard? No, Roland, we could not do that. Your concerns may be well founded, and I thank you for the warning. The doors however, will remain open." Roland started to continue his argument but knew the priest's mind was made up. He would just have to keep his eyes and ears open for trouble, and hopefully stop any before it started.

***

Richelleen set down the bucket of water she had been carrying, putting her hands on the small of her back and stretching, trying to ease the dull heavy ache she felt. Andre saw her and hurried over saying, "Richelleen, "you should not be carrying heavy loads! My grandson does not like it!" His eyes were twinkling as he spoke, but she knew he was serious. "Go, sit down, take a break, you have been working hard all morning."

"Papa," she said. "There is so much to be done, everyone must work, even me. There are other woman in my condition working just as hard, I can do no less."

Andre knew his protective instincts were coloring his judgment because she was going to have a baby and because she was his daughter, but he knew she was right in what she said.

He heaved a great sigh. "Must you always be right my daughter?"

Richelleen's mouth curved into a gentle understanding smile. "I will rest Papa and please do not worry, your granddaughter will be fine," she gently teased.

What followed would be the busiest weeks in Richelleen's memory, and for this she was glad. She did not miss Javert as much when she was busy. That she had not yet heard from him did not worry her, for she knew that getting word to them was difficult. So, as tired as she got, she was grateful for the many chores that needed to be done.

"That smile on your face, need I ask what or who put it there?" Adele called out to her as she joined her by the campfire.

"No," Richelleen said, smiling as she sipped her tea. I was just thinking about the first time I saw Javert. If I had not gone down to the river that day, would he have been saved, would we have ever met? Tell me Adele, do you ever think you and your husband were ...were born to be together, that it was fate that brought him to you?"

"Fate?" Adele snorted good naturedly. "No, it was not fate or my good cooking that brought him to me, if you know what I mean?"

"Adele!" Richelleen cried. "You are impossible, but thank you for being such a good friend. You make this time so much easier for me."

Standing up she dumped the remainder of her tea on the ground. "Goodnight dear friend, and I will see you in the morning."

Taking hold of her hand Adele said, "Word will come soon Richelleen, I am sure of it. Everything will be fine."

Richelleen squeezed her hand and nodded before she headed off for bed. The nights had become increasingly hard for her, almost unbearable, for the night hours were when her memories of Javert were the most intense. In her sleep he came to claim her, the feel of his strong hands touching and caressing her, his mouth hot upon her skin so real, she awoke trembling, bathed in sweat and panting for breath. She laid awake for hours thinking about what she might do if word did not come soon. Finally she made the decision that if she did not hear from them in a timely manner, she would risk her father's displeasure and make the trip herself. This decision made, she fell into the most restful sleep she had since Javert had gone.

***

Wearily, Javert finished his reports. Since he had brought the prisoners in, he would be called upon to appear in court and testify against them. This was taking longer than normal as the men had several charges against them that needed to be addressed before he would have his turn in the court room. He had asked to be released, but had not yet received word from his superior. Folding his report, he put it in an envelope and was sealing it when he heard someone enter the room. Looking up he saw it was the Chief Inspector.

"I have your note here Javert, why have you ask to be released from this case?"

"It is a........personal matter Chief Inspector. The men in question have so many charges against them, my presence would have no effect on the outcome of the trial, and I..."

"You have had....pressing personal matters several times as of late. Might I inquire as to your problems? It is rumored that you are involved with a gypsy woman. Is that true?" he sniffed.

Measuring his words, Javert said. "Not that I feel I have to explain anything to you Chief Inspector, but yes it is true. She will be my wife."

"Your disrespect to me is disturbing Javert, do not think I will tolerate such attitudes from my Inspectors. Where are your loyalties? To this woman, or to me?"

Javert's gaze went cold, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he ground his teeth. "My respect and loyalties are to my family, Chief Inspector. I have given and will continue to give the very best service that I can to this office. If that is not enough, you may have my resignation whenever you wish."

He had known Javert long enough to know he had pushed him to the limit and that he would indeed hand over his commission if asked, but he really did not wish to lose his best man. "No," he said, knowing his bluff had been called. "That will not be necessary Inspector Javert, I only hope you know what you are doing. I must insist that you stay in Paris though, at least until the matter with Gautier is complete."

"I understand Sir, I will comply." With that the Chief Inspector left his office, closing the door behind him, leaving Javert to contemplate the fact he would not be able to go to Richelleen as soon as he had wanted to. Blast it all, he thought. I have no other trade and I need this position, especially now. I will not have my family live in poverty. He pulled out a piece of paper and began to write a note. Perhaps he could find a traveler that would be going to Leon and be willing to drop it off for him at Andre's camp. It would be worth a try. He had not seen Gaspar since they had arrived in Paris and although the young man had promised to come back and see him before he left the city, he did not know how long that would be. The letter seemed to be the only recourse he had at the moment. Putting the sealed envelope into his coat pocket, he picked up his hat and left the office. He would find someone to deliver his letter, that you could depend on.

Deciding against taking his carriage back to the flat, Javert waved his driver on, seeking to delay the dreaded emptiness of his lonely room. Once he thought he saw her, walking and laughing in the street, but of course it was not her, not his Richelleen. Reaching the corner of his street, he made his way to the bakery thinking he would pick up a loaf of bread to have with his meal. Paying the proprietor, he cast a glance towards the window of his apartment, the hope of seeing her there always in the back of his mind. His mouth went dry, the baguette of bread dropping unnoticed from his fingers.

There in the window was a figure. Shouting her name he raced across the street, his hat flying off unheeded onto the street. Into the building he ran, swinging open the door to see her standing there.

Slowly she turned from the window, the shawl slipping from her shoulders, allowing her belly to show. The weeks apart lent his eyes added perception and his eyes went wide, growing moist at the sight of her swollen belly . "Oh God!  Richelleen, look at you," he whispered.

She crossed her arms in front of her belly, as if to hide it, her lower lip trembling as she spoke. "Oh Javert, I know I must look terrible to you, but I just had to see you. Are you disappointed?"

He crossed the room in a few steps, taking her in his arms burying his face in her fragrant hair. "Oh no, oh no. You are beautiful, more beautiful than I have ever seen you. Please," he whispered. "Promise me we will never be apart again, promise me you will never leave me."

"I promise," she whispered fervently before his lips found hers, "I promise I will never leave you."

to be continued. . .

© 1997 Rose Carr

Contact the author:Rosematuse@aol.com

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