Date: Thu, 31 May 2007 09:06:00 +0200 From: A.K. Subject: Malgre tout 02/13 (Historical) ---------------------------- MALGRE TOUT by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2007 written on October 18, 1993 translated by the author English text kindly revised by John ----------------------------- USUAL DISCLAIMER "MALGRE TOUT" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest. ----------------------------- CHAPTER 2 - The replacement When they were out of the church, they saw that the villagers, instead of streaming as usual towards their homes, chatting and exchanging greetings, had formed a small crowd. Jacques went near Jules. "What's up? What's happening?" "I dunno, but there are an officer and a drummer. It seems they are going to read a proclamation." "A proclamation? You mean from the Emperor?" "Eh, it seems so. The mayor is there too..." At that moment the drummer started to beat his rhythm and exclaimed aloud, "Oyez, oyez, oyez!" and again he rolled his drum. In the general silence, that was becoming deeper as the people were grasping the meaning of the proclamation of the Emperor of the French, he read. France, to defend her sacred land, had had to declare the war to Prussia. Therefore each town and each village had to supply a certain number of soldiers for the imperial army. The mayor would write down a list of all the men of the village who were liable, from which lots would be drawn for a number of soldiers equal to one quarter of the listed men. Each of those drawn had to gather in front of the church at noon the following day, or else to find a replacement from amongst those not drawn, who would voluntarily take his place. From there, the squad would be moved to Epinal, to the barracks, where they would receive uniforms and weapons and be assigned to a company or to a regiment. In the village it turned out there were seventy-two men fit for the war, therefore at least eighteen had to go. Any volunteers, who presented themselves immediately, before the draw, would receive a double pay. The eighteen men had to be drawn besides the number of the volunteers. The draw would be carried out in the tavern. It was the war! The villagers commented upon that, excitedly, dismayed. The officer with the mayor, followed by the drummer and the notary, passed through the crowd and entered the tavern, where they settled behind a table with all the necessary sets of documents and papers. Three volunteers presented themselves. The officer wrote down their details, made them sign, thus enrolling them, and told them to come again at noon the following day, and at once gave them some coins as enlistment prize. Then, after striking out the three names from the list, they proceeded to the drawing of the other eighteen names. The villagers, from outside, were watching and trying to hear the names of the ones drawn. At times some name seeped out and then there were varied reactions by the ones involved who were waiting outside - some were upset, others resigned, others couldn't care less. But none of them was pleased. Finally the notary, mister Duhamel, appeared at the door and read aloud the eighteen names and informed them that if any of the eighteen wanted to be replaced, he had to see the recruiting officer, together with the substitute, before ten the following morning to fill up the replacement proceedings. All that time Jacques had prayed either to be drawn together with Silvestre or that none of them was on the list of the conscripts, so he would not be parted from the one he secretly loved. But fortune didn't assist him, his prayers were not answered - Sylvestre was amongst the eighteen drawn, but he was not. Jacques looked for him amongst the gathered people, and saw he was standing near his father, neither upset nor happy, just serious. His father, instead, had a very upset expression. He saw master Teissier discussing in a low voice with the notary, while Sylvestre was going towards his house with his sisters. Jules said to Jacques, "Fucking shit, we have been really lucky, neither you nor I has been drawn!" "You were not in the list, you are still too young by one year. One needs to be at least seventeen to be enrolled in the army." "Well, so much the better. You have been lucky, anyway. Let's go back home and tell mother and the others. Come on!" Only then did Jacques become aware that in the crowd there were very few women. He went towards their home with Jules. But differently from his brothers, he was tense and silent. He was sad, because his prayers had not been fulfilled - he would be separated from his Sylvestre. Separated for... how long? Possibly even forever - war is war! During the winter evenings, at times, he had heard the old men telling about the war. Some talked about it with rage, others with nostalgia, others with pain, and others as just one of the many facets of life... Jacques was not able to tell who, amongst the old men, was giving the right image of the war. They all could be possibly right, he thought. But after all he didn't care so much - the only thing that was filling his thoughts was the fact that on the following day he would be separated from Sylvestre. He felt the impulse to go to see him and resolved to do so after the lunch. His mother didn't seem particularly happy with the news. Her only comment, while she was stirring their poor meal in the cauldron, was, "At least we don't risk going hungrier than we already are..." Only Jean seemed disappointed he could not brag about having a brother soldier, but Marie scolded him. Jacques had noticed that his sister, when Jules said that master Sylvestre had been drawn lots, fell silent and enclosed herself in a frowning silence. Jacques thought that Marie and he were the only ones feeling sad about that news, and felt closer to his sister. All during the dinner only Madelon and Jean were lively and merry as always. Jules was serene, but possibly, feeling Marie and Jacques' tension, wisely kept silent. Their mother was frowning, but anyway that happened very often. The woman, in spite her being only thirty-eight, had rapidly faded after her husband's death. The strain, the worries of bringing up five children, prostrated her and wore her out, even though she was physically still a strong woman. Once the frugal meal was over, Jacques left and set out towards the nearby farm of master Teissier. He was walking slowly, his hands sunk in the holed pockets of his breeches, thinking about what he could say to Sylvestre. That he was sorry he had been drawn? That he was sad he could see him no more, for God knows how long? But after all between him and the young master there never had been any real intimacy... He could simply express him his best wishes... yes, this, being him one of the labourers of his father, would not seem weird... He would shake his hand... for sure he could not embrace him, unhappily. But he would have liked being allowed to do it... yes, he would have liked it a lot, mainly now that they were about parting. When he reached the farmyard, Jacques felt somewhat hesitant. What did he have to do, now? Knock at the door? He looked around as if to find an inspiration, an answer. The farm door opened and master Teissier appeared in the frame. Jacques felt embarrassed. But with his hand the man made him a gesture to draw nearer. The boy went towards him and stopped in front of him. "You are Jacques Marandin, aren't you?" "Yes, master Teissier." "Come in, I have to talk with you." Jacques followed him, asking himself what the master wanted from him. Had he possibly to complain about his work? That seemed him unlikely, as he always had done his best, but those in command seemed to never be satisfied... The master guided him to a drawing room and sat at the table. Jacques remained there, standing. The smell of the furniture wax, the stale smell, gave him almost the feeling of being in a sacristy, if it was not for the faint scent of pipe tobacco. The man poured a drink for himself; he didn't tell the boy to sit down and didn't offer him a drink; but neither of those two things seemed odd to Jacques, who on the contrary, would have thought it odd if the man had done either of them. "You are five children, besides your mother, aren't you?" "Yes, master." "And I've heard that you are not having an easy life, isn't it so?" "We don't complain, master..." "And only four of you six get a wage, right?" "Yes, master, as labourers, and then only when our work is needed..." "I see. Therefore winter is a hard time for you." "At times it is so, it's true..." the boy answered amazed by the unusual concern. The man went on, "If there were a steady salary in your family, as... let's say, as a stable boy, more than the salary as labourers... wouldn't you have a better life?" "Oh, yes, sure, master, we would live way better, as when our poor father was alive..." "And he was a stable man, wasn't he?" "It is as you say, master." "Yes, my superintendant told me so." Jacques asked himself if by chance the man was thinking about proposing him for the job of stable boy. It would have been a real good luck for his family. But he waited for the man to explain to him better what he was thinking. The man fiddled with his glass, then drank another sip. He then said, "You know that my son has been drawn to go to the war, don't you?" "Yes, I was on the square too, master." "My only son, my inheritor. It has been a bad stroke, a real misfortune." "Yes, master." The boy said, convinced. "You, on the contrary... it went nicely for you, didn't it?" "I would have preferred being drawn, I too." The man looked at him amazed, "Why didn't you go as a volunteer, then?" "I should have asked before the draw, not after... And also, if I left my family... they would really starve, master..." "Yes, I see. So, then, listen - I have a proposal for you. If you do not accept, I shall understand and not insist, I shall not hold a grudge against you. If I hired your brother, the one who is sixteen, giving him a steady job as stable boy, and also if I gave you these gold coins..." the man said emptying a money purse on the table, "would you agree to replace my son and to go to war in his place?" "Jules stable boy and I soldier?" Jacques asked, surprised by that unexpected proposal. "Yes." The boy reflected. If he accepted, he would rescue both Sylvestre and his family. He possibly would never meet again Sylvestre, but that danger existed also if he didn't accept. And if Sylvestre died at war, he would never forgive himself, now that the possibility to rescue his young master was offered to him. "I accept, master." For a moment the man seemed almost astounded, but then nodded, smiling. "What do I have to do, master?" "You have to come immediately with me and my son to see the notary and the officer and to do the replacement." "Alright, master." "Wait here. I'll go to give the good news to my son, then we'll go." The man went out. Jacques looked at the gold coins. He tried to count them but he didn't dare to touch them. He had never held even a single gold coin in his hand. They were shining on the table, and belonged to him. Or, better to say it, they belonged to his family. How happy his mother... and his brothers would be! And also Sylvestre. This last thought warmed his heart. The door opened and instead of the father Sylvestre came in. "Jacques, I need to talk with you." "Yes, master Sylvestre." "Sit down." "It doesn't matter..." the boy answered, embarrassed. "I asked you to sit down." The young master repeated. Jacques complied. "My father told me what he asked you. And he says you accepted. Is it so?" "Yes, it is right." "Why did you accept? Did my father force you?" "Oh no, on the contrary. He made me a very good offer. My family will be much better off, now that I agreed." "But you... do you want to go at war?" "I? If you were going, master, why not I?" "I was drawn in lots. For me it would be a duty." "I willingly take on me this duty of yours." "But why? I want to understand the real reason, Jacques." "I told you, master..." "Is it only for your family?" "No... it is also for you..." "For me? And why for me?" "Because you..." Jacques started to say, but became silent, in confusion. "Because I?" Sylvestre insisted, scanning his face. "Because you... you are important, to me." "Important? How important? What do you mean?" Sylvestre pressed him. Jacques didn't know what to say. He knew that he couldn't reveal him the real reason, the real why, the real motive. He could not confess him he was in love with him. Therefore he kept silent. Sylvestre then said, "I have noticed for a long while now that you very often look at me." "You often look at my sister Marie..." "Yes, it is true. Is it for that?" "I... I would like to ask you a favour... if you don't get angry with me..." "Tell me. "Make do so that my family... all during my absence or if I don't come back... so that nothing bad happens to them. And especially not to my sister Marie." "You really are determined to take my place?" "Yes, master Sylvestre. If you make me this promise." "It isn't fair for you go to and risk your life in my place." "But it is if it allows me to rescue you and my family. I beg you, accept my going in your place." "Jacques... I promise you that I shall manage so that your family will be comfortable. And that Marie... will not have disappointments or sorrows in her life, if that depends on me. But I will pray every day, I swear, that you can come back safe and sound, after this war. I will pray every day for you... and may the Lord assist us." "Thank you, master Sylvestre." "Thank-you to you, Jacques. And... I don't want you to call me master any more. Just Sylvestre." "But..." "I'm asking you this as a favour." "As you want, Sylvestre." Sylvestre stood up and at once also Jacques stood up. Sylvestre embraced Jacques and held him tight. Jacques felt like dying of happiness. That embrace meant a lot more to him than all the boy's father's gold. Then Sylvestre released him, gathered all the gold coins, put them in the purse and handed it to the boy. Then he pulled his gold ring from his finger and put it at Jacques' finger. "This... was a present from my grandfather. Take it as a lucky charm and as my souvenir." Jacques nodded and felt so moved as to feel a lump in his throat and be near to crying. They went to the tavern and did the declaration of replacement. Jacques traced a cross as a signature and two witnesses signed declaring that the cross had been traced by Jacques Marandin, twenty years old, son of Chantal Rousset and the late Louis Marandin. The Teissiers went back home. Jacques entered the church and knelt at the balustrade, and thanked the Lord for having allowed him to be useful to his family and to his Sylvestre. Then he went back home, feeling light and serene. His mother was in front of their house and was refilling one of the straw mattresses. Every year she redid all of them, one after the other, so that the leaves were not too dry or flattened. Jacques saw she was restuffing his mattress which would no longer be of use, and this deeply moved him. The woman looked at him approaching, then bent her head again, absorbed by her work. "Mother, come inside. Where are Jules and Marie?" "Inside. What's up?" "Come, I have to talk about important matters." The woman went in, followed by her son. Jacques attracted his brothers' attention and had them all sit around the table. "Now, first of all Jules, from tomorrow master Teissier will hire you steadily as his stable boy and give you the pay that he previously gave to our father." "To Jules? And why not to you?" the mother asked, surprised. Jacques didn't answer her, and continued, "Then, master Sylvestre engaged himself with me to watch over you, Marie, so that nothing bad will ever happen to you." "Sylvestre?" his sister asked, widening her eyes and lightly blushing. Their mother, frowning, exclaimed, "Why should he watch over her? What has he got to do with her? It's your business, not his! What are you telling us?" Jacques pulled out from his pocket the purse with the gold coins, on which he had kept all the time his hand fearing to lose it, opened it and poured the contents on the table. The coins spread, jingling. Everybody looked at them, fascinated. Then the mother looked at Jacques with a tired, resigned expression. "You... you took master Silvestre's place, then." "Yes, mother. So now you can have a decent living. And you, Jules, now that I leave for the war, will be the family man. I recommend that you honour your new role." For some minutes nobody talked, nobody touched those shining gold coins, nobody felt the courage to look at Jacques eyes. Then the mother spoke, with a low voice, her hands intertwined and abandoned on her lap, slightly waving her bosom back and forth, her eyes fixed on the gold coins but not focused on them. "You too... after your father, you too... and then, who else? You too..." she repeated as if in a singsong, without a reproachful tone, but filled with pain. "Mother, it is for you I'm doing so. Staying here, it would be the usual poverty; so at least you will live better." "Better poor but together, than..." the mother said, looking in his eyes, with a sorrowful expression, but without a single tear coming out. "Mother... I will possibly be back..." "Possibly..." "Jules will take care of you, I'm not leaving you alone." "Yes." "These gold coins will allow you to repair the house, to live better. Please, don't be so sad." "Gold coins in exchange for your life... like those for the death of Jesus Christ." "No, mother. There is no treason, here. And anyway I didn't sell my life. It's different." "You say? In our poverty I always did my best to maintain our dignity..." "And it still remains intact, mother! There is no commerce, mother! Our Emperor needs soldiers to defend the French, that is us too, you too! Why don't you want to see it so? If they drew me, I would have been forced to go, really leaving you in the most desperate misery. But I would have gone. Therefore, is it not better in this way?" "But it was master Sylvestre the one who had to go." The mother insisted. "He is the only son of master Teissier. You, mother, have two more sons on which to count, even if I don't come back. But I shall be back, you'll see..." "No, I can feel it. You will not come back, my son. But at this point... You did everything off your own bat..." "Take these coins, mother. Make me at least go happily..." The woman put all the coins back in the purse and put it on her bosom. Then stretched out a hand leaning it on Jacques' hand, without uttering a single word. The following day, when Jacques went to the tavern with the other twenty conscripts, they were put in a group of three men by seven by the officer who followed them, while the drummer preceded and guided them. The families accompanied them to the village border, where they stopped. The youths and the men, walking away, didn't look back. Their families didn't salute them but remained on the dusty road, in a silent group. The squad disappeared behind the trees of the bend. Jacques was walking in silence, with his comrades. Each of them was feeling the separation, the first of their lives, possibly forever, and were feeling something like an internal, unavoidable laceration. Just as Jacques, in his heart, was sending a moving farewell to Sylvestre, he saw him standing there, on the road's verge. Their eyes met. Neither of them made any gesture towards the other, neither of them said a word, but their eyes exchanged silent but eloquent messages. Jacques brushed the ring that Sylvestre had given him with his thumb and understood that, in his own way, Sylvestre also loved him. ----------------------------- CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 3 ----------------------------- In my home page I've put some more of my stories. If someone wants to read them, the URL is http://andrejkoymasky.com If you want to send me feed-back, or desire to help revising my English translations, so that I can put on-line more of my stories in English please e-mail at andrej@andrejkoymasky.com ---------------------------