Armand sat with them. His bowl and bread held his full attention.
Jorgie drank a metal goblet of milk; another rarity but the woman running the cafe insisted growing boys needed calcium. As JB finished-careful to drain every drop from the cup-he asked Armand a question. In French.
“Pardon me, Mister Armand, but I have a question I would like to ask.”
Armand spoke something that sounded like ‘yes?’ through a chewing mouth.
“I appreciate your looking after us,” Trevor listened to Jorgie’s words; all very polite and chosen to emphasize respect. “But do you not speak for the people of France in Camelot?”
Armand licked his lips and answered Jorgie in the warmest tone Trevor had heard from the man since landing.
“Lady Theresa speaks for what remains of my country. I am a warrior, not a politician.”
Hauser continued eating without interruption. He had grown accustomed to not understanding a damn thing anybody said.
“Have you seen many battles?”
Trevor spotted a glint behind Armand’s glasses; a sparkle.
“Young Jorgie, I have seen a hundred battles and slaughtered a thousand enemies.”
This time JB’s eyes sparkled.
“I would love to hear the stories some time. Will you tell them to me? My father has told me many stories of the war.”
“Maybe little boys should not hear such things.”
Trevor broke in, “Were you a soldier before the invasion?”
“I was fifteen then,” Armand answered. “Snowboarding in the mountains-water skiing-motocross-those were the things I did. Other than the television I do not think I saw a gun until the ducks and the other things came here.”
Jorgie said, “Mr. Armand, but you seem very comfortable with all of it. I mean that as a compliment.”
“I am comfortable with it. The first time I fired a gun I shot one of the big bats right in the head while it was flying.”
Trevor asked, “Do you think it was a lucky shot?”
Armand hesitated. His eyes glanced down and he bit his lower lip as if the answer might be embarrassing.
“No. No it was not luck. As your boy said, I felt very comfortable with it.”
Trevor smiled. A little.
Armand sneered, “What are you laughing at?”
“I’m not laughing. It’s just that, well, I think I know someone just like you back home. And for some reason, that gives me great comfort.”
“Hello! Armand! You’re wanted!”
The voice came from a young man wearing a BMW shirt and leather pants similar to Armand’s. He stood at the open driver’s door of a small sedan idling at the curb.
“That’s it,” Armand pushed away from the table. “You had better come with me now. I am guessing that Camelot has reached a decision on your request.”
Trevor stood as well, then JB. Hauser-not understanding the words-lagged behind as he struggled with the last drops of stew.
“And what do you want them to decide?” Trevor asked.
“I want them to do what I have always wanted them to do. I want to fight.”
For the third straight day Trevor returned to the Chateau de Murol. This time, however, he would learn if the previous two days’ worth of persuasion would pay dividends. The Europeans-the collection of enclaves calling themselves Camelot-would have acted more readily last year, before The Order and The Duass hit them with a pre-emptive strike. Everything rested on whether or not he, and JB to some extent, adequately conveyed the notion that they either fought now or would find themselves voted into oblivion by the Gods. The same fate as the Feranites.
While Hauser stayed behind in the guard shack, Trevor and JB climbed the stone steps with Armand, up and into the courtyard where they nearly collided with the mass of men and women exiting the door to the meeting chamber. Lady Cai was there, too.
Armand hurried to her. The two conversed in French. Trevor caught a few words that sounded like ‘convinced’, ‘instinct,’ and ‘good luck.’ Then Cai pressed her hands against Armand’s chest and gave him a kiss. Armand grasped her hips and pulled her close as if wanting to be enveloped by her essence.
Jorgie watched, fascinated by the display of such intense affection.
Of course, it would amaze him, Trevor considered. He never saw that type of affection between me and his mother.
When their embrace ended, Armand led Trevor and JB into the meeting room. Cai made eye contact with Jorgie before they moved out of sight and smiled sweetly at the boy.
Inside they found the meeting room deserted save for Alexander who worked his way around the empty table gathering papers that, no doubt, had served as part of his presentation to Camelot.
Armand remained near the entranceway. Trevor and Jorgie walked to the table and approached Alexander.
“I was married three times,” Alexander volunteered as he collected the discarded papers. Trevor sensed tension lingering in the room.
“Three times? I expect they were all lucky women.”
“Yes, yes they were. After each divorce, that is. My second wife nagged me nearly to death. Do you know what she nagged me most about? She told me that I thought about things too much. She said I needed to be more spontaneous and not so, oh, what would be the word? Pragmatic, maybe. Something like that. She threw around a lot of words that she did not fully understand.”
Trevor, still with a light tone in his voice, asked, “So why would such a smart man marry a woman like that?”
Alexander paused with the stack of papers cradled in one arm and said, “Why she was beautiful, of course.”
“Of course,” Trevor nodded.
“Anyway,” Alexander returned to gathering papers. “The point is that sometimes I wonder if she was not right. Maybe I am thinking about this too much. Ask Armand over there. He will tell you that sometimes you have to trust your gut. Maybe I should listen to him more.”
“You think breaking out now is a bad idea?” Trevor guessed.
“No. Well, yes. But I am in favor of it. I think I am wondering too much about what you have told us. Other worlds-the different races-parallel Earths-evolved super-beings and all of that. It can really set a mind to thinking. That is, if you can sort out the confusion.”
“I understand. Believe me.”
“I suppose you do,” Alexander finished gathering the papers and carefully slipped them into a small briefcase. “Point is, the group has voted to do as you request. I believe some chose so because they feel a sense of obligation for the material aid you sent to us over the years. Others are simply tired of hiding in these little villages. Many just want to fight because they would rather die on their feet. But they all know the stakes. First we have to get past the checkpoints the Duass have established to pen us in and break apart our lines of communication. Then an entire army from The Order waits.”
“I understand.”
“Trevor, the group trusted me to serve as the spokesperson and as a leader, of sorts. Over the years I have sacrificed many people so that others could live. I have made many hard decisions that will haunt me until I die. I sit in the responsibility seat. I did not ask for it, but as my third wife once told me, you get what you deserve. I believed her because I soon came to realize that she was punishment for something I must have done in a previous life. On the other hand, I do not know if my position here is a blessing or a curse. I suspect the latter.”
“Alexander, I-“
The Englishman held a hand up and Trevor stopped speaking.
“I want you to tell me, again, face-to-face that you are confident this will work. Convince me, one more time.”
Alexander waited. Trevor returned his gaze and told the truth.
“I don’t know that this will work, Alexander. I only know that if we do nothing then all of your people, and mine, will die. Or worse. We’re running out of time and any hope of victory has now shifted from my Empire to your Camelot.”