Date: Thu, 31 May 2007 09:06:00 +0200
From: A.K. <andrej@andrejkoymasky.com>
Subject: Malgre tout 02/13 (Historical)

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MALGRE TOUT
by Andrej Koymasky (C) 2007
written on October 18, 1993
translated by the author
English text kindly revised by John

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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.

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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.

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CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 3

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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

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