De Trouble for De Tourney

The morning light slowly illuminated the buildings of the Parisian city below its soft beams. It was a morning like any other. The birds began before the sun and only increased their song when the warm glows fell upon their breasts. A few stray cats crossed the alleyways and hopped on fences or fought for a scrap of food. By the time the sun was fully seen as its perfect orange orb, dogs chased one another or the cats. Nothing would have seemed to have been out of the ordinary. But something was lurking about. The secret hideaway where the Aristos had been kept had one too many shadows among the fence walls. In the bushes, as the sun casted down its filtering glow through leaves, in certain areas the light was blocked and would not pass through. Citoyen. Citoyens. Hiding amongst the shrubbery, back gates and alleyways. They had been there all morning. They arrived in the wee hours of the passing night. The two men with the orders were the closest to the doors. One in the front. One in the back. Like silent stalkers, they slunk closer and remained still. Watching. Waiting. Wondering. Wondering when the first family member would step outside for the morning routine and then the entire show would begin.

The Comtesse held her head high, as she shuffled about the room. Her long dress carefully pinned so it would not touch the floor. Soft light burned through the windows, and outside there was the whispered murmer of people milling about the street preparing for work. The Comte de Tournay, pulled the rugged cloak over his shoulders, and readied himself for his morning walk to fetch the paper. Every morning, like clockwork, he would step out the back door and walk the three blocks to the stand, fetch the paper, groceries for the day and return while the people filled the street for lunch, always moving about the street while others were out. Making it appear he was leaving for work, and returning for lunch.

Suzanne had awaken early that morning, and helped her mother with the few things they did every morning, everything became routine. The fire, breakfast, and cleaning. Giving her father a quick hug as he walked towards the door, Suzanne went about her way.

The young Vicomte sat alone at a table, sadly watching the others move about. He had a soft blanket draped over his shoulders to keep off the chill. It was morning, like every other morning they had spent. Only every took more and more color from the children’s once lively faces, and dulled their senses, making any disturbance in routine seem life shattering.

M.le Comte de Tournay walked to the back door, and slid the heavy board out of place, before letting the door swing open. Stepping outside, he turned to close the door.

The soldiers waited. The one of two leaders heard his door being moved as the inside lock was lifted to no longer bar the way. Glancing back, he gave an index finger up and crouched low. The bushes gave the slightest of stirs and off to the side, some of the other soldiers moved around towards the back door, in case those in the house tried to flee. They waited until the old man turned around and had their back to them. It would not do to let him finish turning the door. In order to flush out the prey, you sometimes had to dive deep into his burrow. They gave not a cry but grabbed his arms and wrists. A Three men grabbed the M. le Comte de Tournay. A fourth man stuck the end of his bayonet in the door frame to ensure their entrance. The Citoyens of the Republic left his face alone and his mouth free to cry out a warning at will. Where were the ones inside left to go?

The Comte did not utter a sound in his defeat. Silently hoping they did not know of his family inside, it was a useless thought. He let out a muffled cry as they pushed their way through the door. The Comtess had been on the other side of the door to replace the bar, when the door moved towards her again, she cried out and jumped back. The startled cry echoed through the near empty house. Suzanne ran further back into a room grabbing her brother as she went. Safety in numbers, safely in numbers. she repeated to herself. From the corner she could see the shadows creep across the floor as the light from the doorway was blocked out by the bodies coming into the room.

"You have two choices!" The main guard called to the sounds of fast footfalls moving away. The Comte was held fast and other guards began to contain the Comtess. With a grin, the main guard put the bladed end of the bayonet to the throat of the Comtess and smeared at the Comte. "You either call your children to come to your side, or you tell them to run as their mother's throat spills blood."

The Comte looked up at his wife, who had turned white and froze against the arms of the men holding her. Two choices, either way they would have her, either now or later.

"Children,.." The Comte choked out. The men would get them either way.

"Come out." it broke his heart, but if it would give them even the slightest of a chance, he would cling to hope.

Young Peter came forward clinging to Suzanne's hand, dragging her towards the door. Sobbing, the girl collapsed on the floor as she approached to where he mother was being held.

"No!" Suzanne cried out from her heap on the floor. Peter rushed back to help his sister up, trying to keep those men's hands off her.

Some of the sneers on the faces of the younger guards dropped seeing the beautiful girl. One of the guards almost looked apologetically at her. Seeing the others begin to giggle and look inappropriately at her, the guard neared and took her elbow. "Sorry Miss" he chanced to whisper and now took on almost a protectiveness of her. He glanced around, looking for the orders of the main guard. By now, the son of the Comte had been grabbed and dragged away from the very sister he tried to protect. Bayonets were pointed at the entire family.

Hanging her head, Suzanne allowed herself to be brought to her feet. It was useless to struggle, there were so many of them around. The boy had wrestled with the men who held him back, but only occasionally jerked his arms trying to free himself. The Comtess had fainted, and was just starting to come back around. Suzanne watched in a daze, her very existence seemed unreal, "What is happening?" she whispered to the air.

At ten years old Richard Valier had seen his fourteen-year-old sister brutally murdered and his twin brother casually killed in his efforts to protect her. Both of them, murdered--by aristocrats. He had been one of the first to jump at the cry of the Revolution.

Now he sneered at the guard who helped up the girl. Aw, look at the man--he pitied her! Richard felt complete scorn for the other guard; obviously he was not truly loyal to their cause. The girl was dirt in his eyes; the sooner her pretty neck met the kiss of Madame Guillotine, the better off the world would be. Her kind made him sick.

Now he grasped the boy by the shoulder of his fine jacket, dragging him up and away from his sister. Cruelly he twisted Peter's arms behind him as he jerked the boy backward, ready to abuse him if he made the slightest move out of line. Tempted to abuse him even if he didn't.

"You dog," he murmured in the boy's ear, his voice heavy with hatred and contempt. "The sooner you worms are crushed the better. What a sickening family." He gave a soft snort of disgust, but his words were not loud enough to interrupt anything his superior might be taking care of. They were meant for the boy alone, to hurt him.

Seeing her mother and father ahead of her, Suzanne's eyes burned with tears. She had known why they were staying in that building, why they had left their home, but she had no idea that it would be such a brutal capture. There was a humiliation that came over her and they were marched out of the alley. Suzanne watched her brother who was being savagely held ahead of her march along, concentrating only on placing one foot in front of the other.