Where the Light Falls(68)

Jean-Luc did not know how to answer his client. Especially when he himself had wrestled with the same questions as Kellermann. But Reason and its sisters, Mercy and Integrity, were poor pillars upon which to build a defense these days. Possessing any one of these character traits might earn you a death sentence; Kellermann had all three. It was a crime to question, at least now. The Committee had ruled that any questioning of the actions taken by the Revolutionary government was sedition punishable by death.

A knock on the door interrupted Jean-Luc’s gloomy musings, bringing his attention back to his shadowy office where his candle had nearly expired. “Come in.” He looked up, unsure of what time it was. The face of the office errand boy appeared at the threshold.

“Two letters for you, Citizen St. Clair.”

Jean-Luc waved the boy forward and took the letters from his hands. “Thank you. What time is it?”

The boy shifted his weight. “It’s two hours until midnight, citizen.”

Jean-Luc sighed, noticing for the first time that the world outside his window was now fully enveloped in the dark of night. “You better go home, boy.”

“Are you certain, citizen? Orders from Monsieur Gavreau are to stay until you…er, until the last clerk has quit the office.”

“I’m certain.” Jean-Luc nodded, waving the boy out. “Go home.”

Left alone, Jean-Luc opened the first of the two letters, seeing a handwriting he did not recognize. Holding it beside the flickering flame of candlelight, he read:


Citizen,

Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Captain André Valière. I am currently encamped with the Army of Italy.

The cause for my letter is to inform you that I have served previously under General Christophe Kellermann. I think myself guilty of no exaggeration when I assert that no finer man or officer exists in the Army of the Republic. I hereby offer myself as a willing character witness, should you require any, in the upcoming trial for his life.

You have, no doubt, reckoned with the risks that you yourself have assumed by rising to the defense of the general. I, too, have wrestled with the question of whether to come forward, and, in so doing, render myself exposed to his critics, of which there appear to be a great number.

I confess that for a period I was disinclined to write to you. I had settled on the course of inaction. But as I recalled, night after sleepless night, how the general saved my life and the life of our Republic at the Battle of Valmy, and as I reflect on the irreproachable character and integrity of the man who has devoted his entire life to the service of our people, I cannot accept the course of inaction. Every virtue of his stands out as a censure against my own hesitancy and desire for self-preservation.

He must not die. Not now, not by the hands of the citizens of France. We must stop the Republic from committing this crime, a crime which would surely come back to haunt her. While there are men who are still willing to stand up for what is right and good, I cannot watch idly.

I will look for a response from you. And I extend to you my sincerest gratitude for your willingness to serve as defense for General Christophe Kellermann.

I remain your humble servant and fellow patriot,

Captain André Valière





Jean-Luc read the letter twice, the second time proving more difficult as a lone tear obscured his vision and splashed onto the words of this captain, this Valière.

By the end of the second reading, Jean-Luc was overcome, and his head collapsed to his desk. At last, someone who understood his own sentiments. Someone who, rather than discouraging and censuring him, had taken the measure of his own beliefs and had come to the same, duty-bound conclusion: the shame of inaction outweighed the risk of action. These words felt like a hand extended to someone lost at sea, just moments before the final wave threatened to pull him under. They filled Jean-Luc with a renewed will to fight, the will to struggle against powerful forces in defense of an innocent man.

He sat for several minutes, reading and rereading the words. The man had offered himself as a character witness. What good this particular character witness might do, Jean-Luc did not know, not when the prosecution was certain to provide any number of witnesses who would claim to have heard disparaging and unpatriotic remarks coming from the general.

It may not be much, but it was something.

Jean-Luc turned to the second letter. On this paper, the handwriting looked vaguely familiar, but he could not immediately place it. He tore the wax seal and read the note. It was short, much shorter than the missive from André Valière. His heart lurched up into his throat as he placed the handwriting.

I see you’ve finally decided to try for glory. I look forward to the contest. Bonne chance—good luck.