Page 68 of Beyond the Lavender Fields
M. C.
Gilles flicked the string of the little package in his lap. One of the older members of his club droned on about the injustices they’d experienced at the hand of the king. Around him, men sat on the edge of the pews, the revolutionary fire alive in their veins. Brassy light streaming through the high windows of Saint-Cannat punctuated the fervor.
It wasn’t as though Gilles didn’t believe in what was being said. France did not need a king, especially not one who would abandon the country at a moment’s notice to save his own neck. But they’d already said all of this last week when they passed around the petition once more. Ranting and raving with practically the same speech meeting after meeting did little to move the revolution forward. Everyone in earshot already believed in the Jacobins’ cause and did not need convincing.
He slipped out his pocket watch. This had gone on for an hour. He suppressed a groan. It was nearly impossible to slip out of the church without notice. And Martel would track him down if he tried to leave early. The sorry face of a desecrated saint stared down from its perch on the wall beside him. Were he the praying sort, he might have offered a plea for intervention.
Of course, it didn’t help that he planned to call on Caroline after the meeting. As he’d asked, his mother had met him at the church with a package of freshnavettesand a knowing smile. Bringing Caroline a treat would not look too forward, would it? Three days had passed since the run-in with the guard, and he wanted to inspect the wound on her arm, though how he’d do it in her parents’ presence remained a question. What would they think about a clerk calling on their daughter, and at this hour? He twirled Grandmère’s ring around his finger. The more important unknown was what they would think when he declared his intentions.
Which would not be for some time. He ran a hand over his brow. No need to start that anxious spiral in his mind again. He didn’t have competition, after all. Only with a memory.
The man seated in front of him stood, and Gilles lifted his head. Jacobins meandered into groups about the nave, the orator having closed the meeting. Martel appeared at his elbow.
“Your head is in the clouds this evening.”
The lavender fields, rather, but Gilles did not correct him. He rose swiftly, heart rate rising as well. “Work has been distracting lately.” They’d found places to economize in thesavonnerie’s budget. But not enough.
His friend’s eyes fell on the little package. “Your mother brought you food?”
“I have to meet with Monsieur Daubin after this.” Gilles laughed uneasily. “She didn’t want me to go hungry.” Though she would have brought something besidesnavettesif that were truly her worry.
“You are going to the Belsunce Quarter, then. I will walk with you. I have business there as well.”
“Oh, but I must go quickly.” Gilles nodded toward those congregating around the church. “I do not want to pull you from important conversations.” Such a companion would damper the excitement of the walk.
“My errand is more pressing than socializing.”
It wouldn’t do to make Martel suspicious, so Gilles shrugged and left the church with his comrade. Martel spit at the saint statue as they descended the steps, then moved closer to Gilles with a lowered voice.
“I have another lead on Franchicourt.”
Please don’t let it have anything to do with Caroline.“What have you found?”
“Someone who met a frazzled man of his description a few weeks ago.” The wolfish grin on Martel’s face sent a chill down Gilles’s back, even though he was not connected to the situation. “It was in the Belsunce neighborhood. They agreed to questioning. I always appreciate your perspective. Perhaps I can wait while you speak with Daubin and you could join me for the interview.”
Gilles’s stomach leaped into his throat. “Oh, no. It will be a long meeting. We have much to discuss.”
“Employers.” Martel wagged his head back and forth.
“I agreed to it.” And Daubin had no knowledge of the impending visit. “What’s more, my mother wished me home as soon as possible. My father is in town for only a few days before he sails with a shipment for Corsica.”
“I did not think you gave your father such priority.”
Gilles put thenavettesin his pocket to keep from crushing them completely. The paper was already crinkled from how much he’d handled them. “It is for my mother, not for him.”
“Have you read the reports from Paris? There is unrest with the volunteers. We might have some interesting news shortly.” Martel rubbed his hands together, as though anticipating a rich postdinnergâteau.
“I should hope not. Violence in Paris does the rest of the country little good.” He kept his eyes on the road beneath them.
“It will allow Marseille’s best to prove their courage.” Martel went on as though he’d heard nothing. “And there is talk of forming another battalion very soon. We might be on our way north in a few weeks.”
Gilles kicked a rock in his path. He’d never join thefédérés. Not after forming this attachment to Caroline.
“Have you heard from your brother?”
“Not a word. He is apparently very busy.”
Martel nodded gravely. “Yes, of course. The cause of liberty keeps one always on the move.”
