The Ant Returns – Chapter X (765 hits)
Category: NoneLabels: The_Ant
Rating: 1.6 on 23 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Jack McCallum (View user info) at 2005-02-11 12:58:31 EST
(Prologue - http://www.ubersite.com/m/57985)
(Chapter I - http://www.ubersite.com/m/58042)
(Chapter II - http://www.ubersite.com/m/58125)
(Chapter III - http://www.ubersite.com/m/58205)
(Chapter IV - http://www.ubersite.com/m/58437)
(Chapter V - http://www.ubersite.com/m/58529)
(Chapter VI - http://www.ubersite.com/m/58649)
(Chapter VII - http://www.ubersite.com/m/58931)
(Chapter VIII - http://www.ubersite.com/m/59032)
(Chapter IX - http://www.ubersite.com/m/59219)
==Chapter X - Henri et Rob==
Rob reached Pont Chandon just before noon, frustrated by his inability to move as fast as he would have liked.
There were many carts and horses on the road, bearing men and timber and fruits and grains. There were small herds of livestock and clusters of children.
Rob could only manage a fast walk most of the way, stopping twice. He helped a group of men hold up a wagon while a loose cotter pin was hammered into place, and he tried to help a very young boy tighten a saddle strap. The old horse carrying the small boy had no problems with Rob, but the locals, some of who clearly indicated that word got around by whispering and gesturing in Rob's direction, were entertained by his fumbling with the broad leather strap. They also noted his bare feet with some amusement.
The man who owned the wagon Rob had helped fix called out, "What brings you into town, helpful stranger?"
Rob grinned. Étranger Utile. It made him sound like some weird-ass super-hero from antiquity. It was a lot catchier than La Fourmi, anyway.
"I'm looking for Henri Collison. I have to see him."
"Bonne chance," the man said. "Many of us here work his lands. We have requested appointments with him to no avail. We need M. Collison to protect us."
"Protect you from who?"
The man shrugged. "Outsiders. Troublemakers. Soldiers loyal to the King and Queen, marauding soldiers with no allegiance looking to loot and pillage, mercenaries hired by titled men to beat down the rebellious commoners, roving bands of lunatics, and if the talk of some is to be believed, demons and devils that walk among us sowing madness and death."
"And Henri has refused to help?"
The man's features contorted and his voice was bitter. "It is said that he has filled a chest with gold and silver coins that should have come to us for our goods, and that he is going to flee the country, leaving us to the wolves."
Rob felt relief. "He is on his way to England?"
The man shook his head. "No. Paris."
Christ, Rob thought. The one place he shouldn't go.
The man spit into the dust. "And now we have to ask the Abbé for assistance. That is why we are bringing everything we have to the marketplace. The Abbé has men of his own who will protect us, but only for a price. He says that he can hire them, but as a man of God, he has no funds of his own. We'll have to sell everything we have to protect our very lives."
"How do you know for sure that trouble will come to Pont Chandon?"
The man looked at Rob as if he were an idiot. "The Abbé, may the Lord watch over him, has told us, of course!"
Rob wished the man a good day and began trotting ahead of the locals. He moved as fast as he could without raising suspicion, and thought about what he had learned.
It sounded like the Abbé was setting up the villagers. Rob could see the guy making off with money, but what the hell would he do with pigs and cows and wheat and vegetables? There were enough goods on the road behind him to withstand a siege.
He reached the edge of town and noticed the poor side of Pont Chandon was curiously quiet. He looked across the river and saw that the square before the church was already filling with farmers and tradesmen bearing their wares, transforming into a marketplace.
Rob crossed the squat stone bridge, pausing a moment, scratching his chin. What the hell did he do now, start knocking on doors? He looked at his grimy clothes. He'd get arrested or shot. Then he saw a familiar doorway. The first time he had seen the man he was now convinced was Henri, his ancestor was slipping out of the door with Angela on one arm, Rudolph keeping watch nearby.
A name was engraved on a brass plate fixed to the door. Sontine. Rob opened the door and stepped inside.
A fat man wearing a frilly shirt and a tiny jacket took one look at Rob's face and bounded toward him.
"Out, Monsieur Collison! I have no time for you today, and if I may speak truthfully as one gentleman to another, I would prefer not to be seen with you! Good day, Henri, good day!" The man even had fat hands, his puffy digits wiggling as he waved Rob away.
"Je ne suis pas Henri," Rob said, resisting to urge to slap the man across his shivering jowls.
He glanced around the room. Wall panels and high, heavy shelves of walnut and mahogany seemed to absorb the glow of several lamps and what little daylight came through the single window. The shelves were filled with leather-bound ledgers and folios wrapped with twine. There were four desks in the room, and men bent over pages filled with numbers and notations, three pens scratching on paper. The room smelled of old parchment and lamp oil and ink and sweat.
The fat man took a closer look at Rob. He removed a small pair of glasses from a jacket pocket and slipped them on. Rob could see a trapped air bubble as big as the head of a pin in the corner of one lens. The man took a step back.
"You are not Henri," the man stated.
"No." Rob said, "But I am trying to find him. Where is he, and what business did he have with you?"
The man's quivering jowls snapped as he said, "What kind of a merchant would I be if I discussed clients with perfect strangers? The Sontines have always been honorable businessmen."
Rob sighed. He felt like he was running out of time. "I need to find Monsieur Collison. His life may be in danger."
The fat man snorted and tossed his head. "Rumor has it that he has been seen consorting with demons. He should be more concerned with the disposition of his eternal soul, and not waste time counting whatever small number of days he has left to walk the earth."
Rob figured that the fat man, Sontine, was talking about Angela and Rudolph. "Is Henri in danger?"
Sontine avoided Rob's eyes and turned away. "Good day, Monsieur! I am a busy man. I must return to my work."
Rob grabbed the man by the collar. The cloth was covered with a layer of sickly-sweet powder that made Rob's throat close up.
"I asked you about Henri."
Rob received a flat stare. Christ, he thought. He contorted his features, trying to look demonic, praying he didn't look constipated. "Tell me what I want to know, old man, or I will drop my trousers and excrete a buzzing swarm of hellspawned imps and sprites down your gaping gullet!"
The fat man's face shivered like it was experiencing a fleshquake. "There are many rumors about him. One concerns his recent liquidation of physical assets through my company. He has sold land and possessions. He told me that he wanted to use the money to help his workers in troubled times... but people are whispering that he may be fleeing the country with his money chest, taking everything, leaving his workers nothing. I heard just today that he is going to Paris. If he wants to help the common man, why take his money there? I don't see the sense in it, but it isn't my business."
"Where can I find him?"
"His home is down rue Charles Baignet. There is a weathervane over the eaves, a golden hen. It is easy to find."
Rob let Sontine go, and brushed the powder off his hands. He left the shop at a run, quickly finding the proper street.
*
I'm going to hell, Henri thought. Unless I can make restitution. God forgive me.
Henri Collison was upstairs in his bedchamber, packing a few belongings. His sturdiest horse was well-rested, newly shod, and saddled. He would be on the Paris road in a moment, and hopefully he would save the town of Pont Chandon, as well as his sinning soul.
He had lain with the demoness Angélique the night before last, seduced by her, and then he had been horrified when she somehow changed into a grotesque winged thing that spat laughter at him as it leaped from his boudoir window to soar over the rooftops and perch on the roof of the church.
He had heard a muffled cry in one direction and the slam of closing shutters in the other, so he knew that others had seen the she-beast as well. He just prayed no one had seen her leaving his home.
Trouble had been brewing in France for years, and instead of spending his income Henri began saving.
Not long ago he had reached the point where he had more money than a reasonable man would ever need. He realized that he had a good chance of avoiding the troubles sweeping the nation, which would save not only his workers, but the sanctity of Pont Chandon itself, a place the Collisons had called home for hundreds of years.
After seeking the advice of a number of acquaintances, he began selling land that was not being worked, through merchants like Sontine, and converting his currency to gold. He now had two small and staggeringly heavy chests full of gold coins.
He would go to Paris, and register his most loyal workers as the new owners of the land they worked for the Collison family. He had already done so for the Bas family, and he wished them well. In the city he would pay forward as much tax as he could, so the workers would have at least one season to get their finances in order.
The only problem would be getting to Paris. The thought of being accosted by a mob while carrying so much gold made him feel ill, but he could see no other option.
He had no proof, but he was quite sure that the Abbé was fomenting rebellion among the poor, and as the richest man in Pont Chandon, Henri had the most to lose if he could not guarantee his workers a brighter future than the one they saw now.
The sound of the front door opening, and muted voices, reached Henri. Gilbert, his manservant, was turning someone away from the door. Henri had given Gilbert explicit instructions not to admit any visitors.
A fist hammered at the front door. There was a commotion, a shout from Gilbert, and abbreviated creaks as someone bounded up the stairs.
Henri grabbed a flintlock pistol and a short sword. With his left hand he aimed the flintlock at the door, ball and powder already loaded and awaiting discharge. He drew back his sword arm, ready to lop off the head of any intruder.
The door was thrown open and a filthy, barefoot commoner took a step into the room. Thinking that the revolution had finally come to Pont Chandon, Henri squeezed the trigger of the flintlock.
The hammer bearing the flint struck the steel frizzon, throwing a spark into a small pan filled with gunpowder. The small quantity of powder in the pan ignited with a hiss, and a moment later the wad of powder packed behind the ball ignited.
*
Rob pushed the door open and saw Henri standing in the middle of a gloomy suite, holding a primitive pistol. He heard a snap, and a hiss, and figured that a crude metal projectile was already on its way toward him, possibly through him. He took a step closer to the firearm as the powder charge exploded, and began waving both hands in front of his midsection.
Henri gasped as the stranger reached forward, his hands blurring like the wings of a hummingbird. The flintlock jerked in his grasp, there was a sound like a whip striking flesh, and something smashed into one of the bedposts beside him. Splinters spun through the air like thin insects.
Rob checked his hands. The nail from his left pinkie was gone, and the finger hurt like hell. "You donkey-dick," Rob said.
Henri heard the intruder call him a mule-penis, and was about to let loose with his blade when he took a good look at the intruder's face. "Merde," he whispered.
"Yeah," Rob said in English. "And you're up to your neck in it."
*
The Collisons were seated in sturdy wooden chairs, in a study upstairs. The windows were open, and Rob was looking down on Henri's little garden.
Considering how well-off Henri was supposed to be, Rob was surprised by how humble the garden was, a simple square about fifty feet on each side. Close to the house were an old wooden bench, a table with a few chairs, and a small pond with a rim of rough dark stone. A frog sat on one of the stones, giving Rob an accusatory glare. The rest of the garden was just grass and high hedges, with a little area to one side cordoned off for vegetables and flowers. A murmur of voices rose and fell, sounding like the sea. Rob figured the marketplace must be filling up quickly.
Gilbert was carefully wrapping a bandage around the intruder's finger. The old manservant was utterly bewildered, glancing from Rob to Henri with horrified eyes.
"A cousin?" Henri asked.
"Uhm, oui," Rob said, all too aware of how lame he sounded.
"From England."
Rob nodded.
"I once researched the Collison family tree," Henri said. "I have personally traced the Collisons back to Jourdain Collison, who took part in the First Crusade to the Holy Land, and became one of the Knights Templar. His sons followed in his path, until the year of our Lord one thousand, three-hundred and seven, when the Templars were dishonored. Since then we have been landowners... but none of us has ever ventured across the sea."
Rob pointed to his own face. "How else do you explain this?"
"I don't know," Henri said, clearly unsettled. "How can you possibly know I was going to Paris... that Paris will be unsafe for me?"
"I've heard talk," Rob said carefully. "In my travels. I know that it seems strange, but you have to trust me. You have to leave the country."
Henri narrowed his eyes. "How do I know you aren't going to waylay me on the road and take my gold for yourself?"
Rob let out an exasperated sigh. He reached out, too fast for Henri to react, grabbing the man's sword. The blade was old, sturdy and pitted. Rob flicked it with a finger, and the metal fractured. Steel shards clattered on the wooden floor.
"I could take whatever I wanted right now," Rob said. He slipped out of his chair and squatted, reaching past Henri's feet and grabbing a chair leg with one hand. He stood easily, lifting the chair overhead.
Henri ducked to avoid cracking his skull on a dusty beam.
Rob set the chair on the floor and seated himself. "I only want you to be safe."
"What about my workers?" Henri asked. "I want them to be compensated for their years of service."
"You can do that through letters from England," Rob said. "You can't help them at all if you lose your head to the mob. You have to go now. Tell no one."
There was a stronger swell of voices from the center of town, punctuated by a few shouts.
Henri frowned. "If I slink out of town, it will look as if I'm one more noble stealing from the poor. There are a lot of unhappy and bitter people who want to stop me from going."
"Yeah, well, they aren't going to know any different, because as far as they know you'll be in the marketplace buying food and giving it away."
"How so?" Henri asked.
"Give me some clothes," Rob said. "And a little money."
*
Once again there was a hammering at the front door. "What now?" Henri muttered. He gestured to Gilbert, and the old man left the dressing-room to see who was calling.
Rob felt like a complete prick. He was wearing fancy boots that pinched his feet, some kind of leggings that clung like goddamn panty-hose, a weird baggy pair of short pants, a thick leather belt, and a couple of layers of silk shirts topped off with a vest and coat. He drew the line at a powdered wig and plumed hat, having already let Gilbert comb out his hair and tie it back with a white ribbon.
He leaned over a wash basin and quickly cleaned his hands and face, hearing the door open downstairs. He looked in a nearby mirror. The glass was speckled, but he could see himself all too well. This isn't a whole lot better than Schroedecker's costume, he thought. He was also given a small leather sack filled with coins. He tucked it into the belt, with no idea how much it was worth.
A deep voice roared, "We want to see Henri!" The man who made this demand sounded enraged, and very drunk.
Henri shrugged dramatically. "I don't understand what-"
Rob held up a hand. "Don't you get it, Henri? There is a mob forming, the same thing that has already happened in a hundred towns in France and will happen in a hundred more. People are tired, hungry, and pissed off. They're looking for a Judas-goat, and you fit the bill perfectly. Now you have two very good chances of dying before your time, either here or in Paris. You have to leave France. And you have to go now!"
When Gilbert had gone to answer the door he had taken the front stairs. Rob and Henri slipped down the servant's staircase in the back of the house.
They left the house and followed a path to Henri's stables. A boy with dirty fingers led a large black horse toward them and Henri took the reins.
Rob had no idea what kind of horse it was, and briefly wondered how the hell you would stay in the saddle if something that big started running full-tilt. The fancy saddle-horn was higher than his head.
Henri patted the stable-boy on the shoulder and sent him away. Then he started dithering with the saddle-strap and said, "I hope I'm doing the right thing."
Rob had pretty much reached him limit with Henri's fussing. "You better haul ass."
Henri paused and scratched his chin. "I own no ass, and I was taken to understand I would be traveling upon this fine horse. Riding an ass would be both uncomfortable and time-consuming, and I-"
Rob waved a hand. "Just hurry up, Hank."
"Did you address me as 'Henk?' What is a Henk? Are you disparaging me, Monsieur?"
Jesus, Rob thought. "Where I come from, Henri is said 'Henry.' And Hank is just a short form of that."
Henri smiled. "Henk. I like the way it sounds. It sounds like the name of a man of action. Henk!"
"Well then why not try and live up to your new name and move a little faster, huh?"
Rob helped Henri secure a pair of heavy saddle bags containing coins of gold and silver, as well as letters of credit and deeds to various estates and plots of land.
Gilbert appeared, out of breath. "There is a mob, Monsieur. In front of the house. I told them you have already gone, but there are men hammering at the door." The old man was completely unnerved.
Henri paused. "Should I—"
"No," Rob said. "I'll talk to them and distract them. You have to go."
As Gilbert held the reins, Henri climbed into the saddle and gave Rob a little nod.
"Bon jour, Robert. Thank you for assisting me."
"My motives are purely selfish, believe me," Rob replied. He patted the horse's flank.
There was a loud splintering boom, and they all looked toward the house.
"That's my cue," Rob said, trotting back to the house and the back stairs.
He went up the stairs and paused a moment. He peered out a little window and saw Henri talking with Gilbert.
"What the f—"
Henri snapped the reins and the horse carried him off at a gallop. Gilbert rubbed his hands, clearly distressed. He looked up at Rob, and quickly looked away, as if ashamed.
Rob went into a room overlooking the street. He raised the window and stuck his head outside. There was an ugly crowd down there, most of them dirty, drunk, and wearing the clothes of working men. A half-dozen of them were swinging a wooden beam at the door, hoping to stove it in.
"Gentlemen!" Rob called down, pronouncing every word carefully and hoping he sounded like Henri. "Please cease your assault on my door. I will be down in a moment." He mustered a grim smile for the men and then went down the stairs.
User Reviews
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-08-03 12:11:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Supreme Overlord damage control...
Submitted by Supreme_Overlord (user info) at 2005-07-21 22:25:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
shite
Submitted by Mitchapalooza (user info) at 2005-02-16 04:18:42 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
yawn.
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2005-02-14 09:27:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Excelente
Submitted by horse87 (user info) at 2005-02-11 20:14:02 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Jesus, man....
You told me that gunk on my copy was excess binding glue!!!
(gags..)
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-02-11 18:35:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Can I help it if I have hyperactive salivary glands?
Picture poor me filling out paperwork for a new bank account or a home loan. It's really embarrassing!
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2005-02-11 18:14:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I......
umm...
well.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-02-11 17:32:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2005-02-11 16:48:06 (#)
Ranking: 2
Something about the words
"undiluted me, baby"
really makes me uneasy.
If I buy a copy, will you autograph it? Will you write a naughty message in it, just for me? Huh? Will you? Huh?
--
For you, of course.
And if any of the pages are stuck together...
That's probably just a little more of that 'pure, undiluted me.'
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2005-02-11 16:48:06 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Something about the words
"undiluted me, baby"
really makes me uneasy.
If I buy a copy, will you autograph it? Will you write a naughty message in it, just for me? Huh? Will you? Huh?
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-02-11 15:27:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-02-11 15:21:18 (#)
Ranking: 2
wow Jack. If I had $25 I would buy it. jebus that's expensive.
--
Sad but true, Munkey. That's the marketplace these days.
Having said that, it IS the size of a hardcover... just not with a hard cover. It's 400+ pages of pure, undiluted me, baby. How can you resist?
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-02-11 15:21:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
wow Jack. If I had $25 I would buy it. jebus that's expensive.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-02-11 15:11:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
EMC -
'Made in the USA' is available on Amazon as well, but oddly enough, is cheaper here.
Xlibris - https://www2.xlibris.com/bookstore/bookdisplay.asp?bookid=13981
There may be (disdainful sniff) used copies on Amazon even cheaper, so you should check into that as well.
Here's one of the promo blurbs, just so you know what you're getting into...
==
What do you get when you mix a clone of Marilyn Monroe with Elvis Presley´s undead twin, and add a pinch of what may very well be a pissed-off, perverted Jesus Christ? Mayhem! Take a wild ride through a dark history of modern American conspiracies and the 20th century will never look the same again. A covert government agency & Third Reich science, cloning & cryogenics, the Second Coming & the Millennium, all come together in a collision of passions and perversions, past and present! Of course, a story as unique as this could only be. . . Made in the U.S.A.
==
Submitted by EatMeCompletely (user info) at 2005-02-11 14:22:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Jack,
Post the link. I'll buy it; trade you two beaver pelts and a bushel of corn for it. Are you coming to Vegas?
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2005-02-11 14:09:43 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-02-11 13:59:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
where's the ass-kicking?
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-02-11 13:59:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Everything you ever wanted to know about UberPirate
User id: 16212
Registered on or around: 2005-02-07 16:45:33
# Messages posted: 4
# Reviews written: 41
# Times these posts have been reviewed : 97
# Hits: 571
Average rating of all messages: -0.81
All four posts posted on 2-11-05.
It looks like somebody needs a hobby.
Submitted by UberPirate (user info) at 2005-02-11 13:52:06 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
You blow nuts.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-02-11 13:49:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by EatMeCompletely (user info) at 2005-02-11 13:21:54 (#)
Ranking: 2
The book that you published, where can I find it? I'd buy it in a heartbeat. Have a good weekend.
--
It was done through Xlibris, which means it was written and edited by me. It's a real book, don't be fooled, but without a professional editor I have found about a dozen typos on a read-through of the final product. Not bad for over 400 pages of story, but still...
Man, do I make a shitty salesman or what?
Let me know if you are still interested and I'll put the link here.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2005-02-11 13:41:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Submitted by EatMeCompletely (user info) at 2005-02-11 13:21:54 (#)
Ranking: 2
I find myself looking for the continuation of this story, everyday. You are a great writer and I sincerely hate waiting for the next installment. Why the hell did I start reading this before it was done?!
Can't agree with your polotics but this story's great. Thanks for writing!
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-02-11 13:31:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I am so glad I started reading these.
Submitted by EatMeCompletely (user info) at 2005-02-11 13:21:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I find myself looking for the continuation of this story, everyday. You are a great writer and I sincerely hate waiting for the next installment. Why the hell did I start reading this before it was done?!
The book that you published, where can I find it? I'd buy it in a heartbeat. Have a good weekend.
Submitted by ess-arr (user info) at 2005-02-11 13:01:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
i gotta go back and read I think 6 or 7, but these are always a pleasure to read...
Submitted by knucklesnelson (user info) at 2005-02-11 12:59:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
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