L'appel Du Vide [Call Of The Void]

[4]

During the five days he had been in Paris, Philippe had concluded that Maurice Bernard was a very dull fellow indeed. He had a lot to say, but nothing that carried much weight. Still, Philippe felt that he'd rather be in his company during the execution than end up alone in a city which had changed quite vastly since he'd been in it five years ago. Philippe's mother had refused to join him to witness the macabre event, and his father was working in the bakery.

It was the twenty-first of January and the most imminent trace of monarchy in France, the former king Louis XVI, had been guillotined. It would forever be remembered as the day that liberty overcame despotism.

After the body had been inspected and was set on the platform for display, the scene at the Place de la Révolution had turned obscene. Men and women were bleating insults at the dead man and making gestures considered discourteous in company. Armed people were getting into fights over matters of no importance, drunk on the result of the Revolution. That was when Maurice pulled him away.

As the two friends walked down an alley quite a distance from the execution grounds, Philippe kicking a stone aimlessly and Maurice walking with him, his hands in his pockets, straightening up whenever a pretty woman walked past them, and slouching back over when they paid no heed to him. It had rained at dawn that morning and the roads were wet and slippery. Paris was unusually crowded—thousands from nearby towns and villages that flocked to the capital to watch what they considered to be the end of an oppressive era.

Philippe couldn't help but laugh at that thought. Every era was an oppressive one. The cycle of oppression and revolution was endless, only interspersed by short periods when the Gods would take pity on the populace and give them a kind ruler. Robespierre would be every inch a tyrant as Louis XVI or the queen Marie Antoinette were.

He pitied the King. The man had not been prepared for kingship since birth. His father, Louis XV and his oldest son had been the potential heirs of his grandfather Louis XIV's throne. He had been neglected as a child, for his parents chose to fawn over their eldest son. When kingship was thrust upon this weak-willed thirteen year old after his granfather's careless regime—one that had pushed France into the ruts of debt—there was little he could do. The scapegoat could do little but bleat as it was branded the cause of all that history had brought upon poorer men.

Louis Capet had been brought in a bullock cart after a long procession from the jail to the grounds. The atmosphere had been slick with malice and hatred. Disparaging insults for the man and inspiring slogans praising the French Republic had been sounded in equal numbers.

Louis had been accompanied by a priest of some sort—Philippe was not aware who he really was—but the king had kept his calm, even after being cut off while saying his last words.

Being more decisive than he had ever been during his reign, he had proclaimed, "I die innocent of all the crimes imputed to me. I pardon the authors of my death, and pray God that the blood you are about to shed will never fall upon France."

His next words had been cut off by the people's indignant protests and the incessant drumming by men who had been stationed around the grounds solely for this purpose. Then, the last monarch of France was pushed to the scaffold.

The guillotine had fascinated Philippe. It was a tall, wooden contraption with a blade fixed on the upper edge of the frame, brought down on the neck of its poor victim who lay tied to it. He was astonished by the precision of the blade as it hurtled through the air for a second that seemed to last an eternity. Its silvery blade, glinting in the sunlight, sliced right through Louis' neck with a splash of scarlet.

"Found a job yet?" Maurice asked, diverting Philippe's stream of thought. They were in a deserted alley—the marketplace—some miles away from the execution grounds. Still, faint shouts of 'Vive le Republique' sounded in their ears.