I endured for three whole days.
It was a dismal solitary cell, surrounded by thick stone walls on three sides and a row of iron bars covered in red rust on the fourth. The only source of light in the cell came from a tall, narrow window, casting a dim glow.
The repulsive, sweaty jailer stood outside the old bars, holding a tray of food, his mediocre face sporting a malevolent smile. "Mealtime, sir," he placed the food just under a meter away from the bars.
"Thank you," I rose from the bed in the corner of the cell and walked to the bars, crouching down to reach for the tray.
The jailer whistled and used his filthy boots to slide the tray away. "Put in some effort."
Burning with anger, but too hungry to resist, I reluctantly stretched my arm, the sleeve brushing off the rust from the bars. The tray was moved again, accompanied by the sound of whistling.
I clenched my fists, standing up stiffly. "Do you know who I am? Once I'm out of here, dealing with a little soldier like you will be a piece of cake."
he jailer let out a cock-a-doodle-doo-like laughter. "When you get out, it will be time for your head to move out. You're doomed, you idiot."
"Is that so?" I forced a smile, "Have you heard of 'rising from the ashes'?"
"Rising from the ashes," the ugly jailer let out another ear-piercing chicken-like laugh, then spat on the food on the ground. "Well, I'll extinguish it with my spit."
"Just you wait," I really wanted to strangle the jerk right then and there. "I will make sure you end up on the guillotine."
He spat a few more times on my breakfast, nudging the tray towards the bars with his foot. "Still hungry?"
"I take back what I said," I leaned down, grabbed the tray, and slammed it into the jailer's face. "I swear I will personally chop off your ugly head with a scimitar."
The jailer grumbled and left, while I returned to the bed, stomach growling with hunger.
It was all because I let the king and queen escape. Yes, it was me who, that night at the camp, intentionally placed their carriage at the end of the escaping convoy; it was me who personally arranged for a few sympathetic soldiers to guard the carriage, keeping watch all around, and told them, "If the king's carriage leaves and you don't sound the alarm until ten minutes later, no one will question you."
It was me who secretly loosened the prisoners' ropes, asking them if they were willing to sacrifice themselves for the king or face a gruesome end under the guillotine after trial. Upon receiving their answers, I revealed the entire plan, emphasizing that there could be no bloodshed. It was me who gave several Dragon Cavalry uniforms to Queen Mary, allowing her and her companions to dress up and easily escape on horseback.
Heavens above! I did all this, and all I received was a gentle kiss in the darkness, only to find myself imprisoned.
I thought my plan was flawless, but there was still a loophole. One of the three prisoners, who had not been killed when my team caught up with the carriage, was only injured and unconscious. When he woke up, he jumped off the carriage, attempting to escape back to his camp. However, he was captured again by a squad led by Lieutenant Aubrey and, under torture, confessed to everything.
Outside, the sound of keys turning echoed through the cell, and I impatiently rolled over on the bed. "Get lost, you damn fool."
"Is that how you speak to your father after all these years?"
"Father," I sat up abruptly, feeling both ashamed and guilty. "I thought it was that blasted jailer."
My father stood straight outside the iron bars, dressed in a black wool coat and blue riding trousers, his neatly groomed gray hair showing hints of silver. His kind blue eyes sparkled with wisdom beneath his eyebrows.
"You've really gotten yourself into trouble this time."
"Such is life," I croaked back. "Father, when can I get out of here?"
"It's serious, you're charged with treason," Father said gravely.
"Treason?" Fear pierced through me like a cold dagger. "I was fighting for the Republic in Marlon just a few days ago," I blurted out, my hands spasming as they tightly gripped the cold bars.
"Child, calm down." Father reached out over the bars and patted my shoulder.
"I'd rather have died in that battle." I screamed, "That night, I was terrified too... but dying on the battlefield is one thing, being labeled a traitor and walking to the guillotine under the scornful gaze of the crowd..."
Father's voice turned strange, "What madness possessed you to let the king and others go that night?"
"I'm not mad." I stepped back, shouting uncontrollably. "Isn't there already enough death? I just wanted to spare two souls from the guillotine."
"Is that so? But those three prisoners you treated as expendable pawns may not see it that way," Father said calmly. "Tell me the truth."
"I am telling the truth," I replied angrily. "All three of them were injured, unable to ride a horse, and would have faced death once they reached Paris. I wanted them to die with weapons in hand like soldiers, not like prisoners under the guillotine."
Father sighed. "Regardless, the king and queen were intercepted in Varena and are now being escorted back to Paris by the National Guard."
"Oh Lord, I should have died in the battle a few days ago." I sat down against the cold stone wall, running my hands through my hair and spoke hoarsely, "I'm sorry, Father. It's unbelievable that after almost five years of not seeing each other, we meet again in such dire straits."
"It's not necessarily the end, my child," Father smiled gently. "You will be safe; I have everything arranged."
The sudden comfort almost made me faint. "Really?"
"Yes, the prisoner who betrayed you has died from severe injuries. This turn of events has changed everything."
"Why didn't you tell me this important news sooner!" I stood up, relieved, dusted off my clothes, and walked over to my father.
Father gazed at me for a long time, his eyes filled with countless thoughts. Finally, he spoke slowly, his voice tinged with indescribable sorrow. "Alas, Marcus, my child. You have a kind heart, just like your late mother. I am proud of you. But remember, in a civilized and peaceful society, kindness is indeed a virtue; however, in this chaotic era, being too kind is not only useless but also harmful to oneself. I have been involved in political struggles for many years, treading on thin ice. Therefore, I know better than anyone that in the ruthless power game of life and death, whoever has a conscience will undoubtedly perish."
His words left me somewhat stunned, but I nodded in understanding.
Father reached out and grasped my shoulder, giving it a gentle shake. "My child, how I wish you truly understood. Tomorrow, they will hold the trial for you. Be brave,"
That night, I couldn't sleep a wink.
Outside, the rain was falling, the calm, soothing sound seeping through the thick walls into the dark, windowless cell. I stared at the flickering firelight reflected on the iron bars, pondering my father's words and contemplating all the injustices.
The dawn broke, and I had to face the trial.
The jailer, who should have been struck by lightning that day, brought me breakfast, his attitude somewhat more polite this time. But I still didn't touch the food. Two soldiers escorted me onto a carriage. The brief journey seemed to end in no time.
I was taken to the courtroom, a dimly lit hall packed with people, spectators lining both sides, eager for the spectacle. A plump judge and several jurors sat on a high marble dais. A few bearded soldiers led me to my place. It was a simple wooden stool, with armed guards standing on each side.
I sat down on the wooden stool, almost leaning back to stretch out lazily out of habit. Since Father had everything arranged, all I had to do now was one thing—defy.
The judge soon began questioning in a flat tone, "Major Marcus, did you deliberately release the king?"
"I did not, don't make baseless accusations," I retorted.
"Some say you planned a detailed scheme to set the king and queen free."
I stood up in agitation, shouting angrily, "I have never heard such shameless lies! Just four days ago, I was ambushed by royalist rebels while chasing the king and almost lost my life." I looked around, "Where is the liar who said this? Let him dare to come and confront me face to face."
Oh, Heavens. The accusation was true, and I knew it deep down, yet I could still put on such a performance. I was truly a genius at acting.
"It was a captured royalist soldier who said that, and he is now deceased," the judge stated without a hint of remorse in his tone.
"He must have faced his comeuppance, that's for sure," I replied.
The plump judge shrugged noncommittally, "Be that as it may, you must prove your innocence."
"My innocence speaks for itself," I retorted. "Would you all rather believe the nonsense of a royalist than the words of a Republic major?"
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room.
"Your Honor, I have something to say," came the voice of Ober. "I and these soldiers can attest that Major Marcus's act of treason is entirely true."
I turned to look at him, shocked beyond words.
The judge agreed to let Ober speak, which was even more unexpected. Ober calmly recounted how he found the captured soldier lying unconscious by the roadside and learned about my entire plan from the soldier's own mouth. Then, the soldiers who were on duty that night added to Ober's account. The situation took a sharp turn against me, proving highly detrimental.
Why? Those three words hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them forcefully.
After they finished speaking, the judge spoke again, "Do you have anything further to defend yourself, Major Marcus?"
The exhaustion that had built up over the past three days hit me like a tidal wave, freezing me in place, pale and speechless.
"Traitor!" someone called out softly.
"He deserves no mercy," another shouted.
"He wants to bring more war upon us."
"Send him to the guillotine."
The accusations and condemnations came rushing in all at once, the voices of denunciation rising deafeningly. I slowly scanned the crowd, only seeing indifferent and ruthless faces, a sea of people reveling in my misfortune and kicking me when I was down.
The judge quickly quelled the commotion. "Major, please present evidence to prove your innocence."
"I..." My voice was muffled, trembling, and incredibly weak.
"If you have none, I will have to pronounce you guilty."
"No..."
The door opened, and Queen Mary entered amid a murmur of surprise. "Your Honor, please hear my testimony," she said. She was dressed in simple riding attire, yet her beauty still had a captivating allure. The Queen stepped onto the carpet leading up to the high dais. The carpet beneath her feet, once magnificent with intricate golden embellishments, now lay tattered and faded, much like the waning power of the French monarchy. As our eyes met in the air, I saw deep guilt behind those beautiful blue eyes.
"I admit that the king and I were captured by Major Marcus in Maron," she testified, her tone surprisingly calm. "He and his men repelled some of the cavalry sent to assist us and set up an ambush on the roadside, intercepting us."
A cold hand gripped my heart.
"But later, we managed to escape by our own wits, without relying on Major Marcus's help," the Queen continued. "I suspect that the loyalist soldier spoke such falsehoods to ensure that those who betrayed the king face punishment."
"Since he is your enemy, why do you want to prove his innocence?" the judge asked directly.
"He is not my enemy, Your Excellency," she replied. "He is a French officer whom I deeply love. It has always been through their sacrifices that protected France and allowed us to enjoy peace. How can I stand by and watch such a man be wronged?"
I am not that kind of person! I thought with a heart full of bitterness. Just a few days ago, Lieutenant Ober taunted me, but I brushed it off with a smile and rose above it. Those soldiers who testified against me, I had never treated them poorly. I gave so much to others, yet they repaid me with betrayal. I took away her hope of escaping France and failed her only request. Yet, she was willing to stand up for me.
"Your Majesty," after everything was settled, I found the Queen among several National Guard officers.
"Major Marcus," her tone was remarkably calm, as if exchanging greetings with someone in the palace gardens. "Gentlemen, please allow us to speak in private."
The officers obediently withdrew.
"Thank you for testifying on my behalf," I said softly. "And I'm sorry I couldn't help you more."
"You don't need to worry about that, Major."
"But regardless, you and the king must flee France," the suddenness of the statement even caught me off guard, "Otherwise, they will send both you and the Queen to the guillotine."
The Queen smiled gently, her gaze drifting into the distance. "On our way back to Paris, His Majesty has complained to me more than once, saying I should let him use the knife you gave him to end his own life. Later, he fell ill, very despondent, but upon hearing the news of your arrest, he still wanted to make his way to Paris at all costs to save you. So I rode here as fast as I could."
"The king's spirit is exhausted, what use is there for me to live. I've heard this line from a play long ago, but now I finally understand the sorrow it conveys."
"Your Majesty and you are both good people. It would be a waste to lose your lives senselessly, so..."
"We will not flee anymore, Major. From the beginning, I advised him not to escape. As the King and Queen of France, how can we hide and skulk on the land of France?"
"I think I understand why His Majesty would casually get off the carriage and chat with the peasants along the way during his escape," I said, rubbing my temples.
"Thank you for your kind reminder, Major," the Queen said. "But I really don't want to flee anymore. Even if death is inevitable, I want to rest among the people of France whom I deeply love."
"The people of France whom you deeply love," I almost couldn't catch my breath. "The people of France whom you deeply love..." I grabbed her hand, with a mocking tone, I repeated those words. "Have gone mad. The countless souls under the guillotine can testify to that. And His Majesty has quite a thick neck; the guillotine might not even be able to swiftly send him on his way."
"Perhaps they have gone mad, but I still love them."
I couldn't help but chuckle. "I really can't understand it."
The Queen responded with a gentle smile. "You know, Major. When I first met my husband, I felt deeply disappointed. He was too fat, not handsome at all, completely different from the prince charming in my dreams. I wrote to my mother to complain. But my mother told me to try to love him, and everything would be alright. So I fell in love with this imperfect, disappointing man, and learned to love other imperfect things as well."
"France and its people are not perfect, but as their Queen, I have still fallen in love with them." She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted loudly towards the scattered clouds in the sky. "Long live France." Her ethereal voice echoed in the courtyard, with birds chirping in response.
"Oh, Heavens. Your thoughts are truly unique," I said, my voice choking up.
"Please promise me, Major," she said, "Never do anything to harm France, always fight for her. Please remember that I love them, promise me."
I nodded as if compelled. "I promise you."
"Thank you," she smiled at me, but that smile looked so melancholic, it made me wonder if her eyes were already brimming with tears.
Since then, I never saw Queen Marie again.
Lieutenant Ober and the soldiers were waiting outside the courtroom gates. Upon seeing me, they all remained silent, staring down at their boots.
"You are my subordinates," I said softly. "Why push so hard to put me in a dire situation like this?"
"Sir," Ober spoke up, "You could blame or retaliate against me, but I have no regrets. I believe you did break the law, and pushing was just me doing my duty."
"Do you all think the same?" I turned to the other silent subordinates and sternly said, "Lift your heads up."
"They were coerced by me, sir," Ober said, "Please don't make things difficult for them. As for me... I won't let you spend too much effort or take too big a risk for revenge." He pulled out a pistol and put it in his own mouth.
A soldier named Snow promptly stopped him.
"Enough," I said. "Put away your gun, it should be aimed at France's enemies. Come with me."
My first stop was the cell where I had been held for three days.
The jailer, seeing me reappear with my subordinates, was terrified and fell to his knees, begging for mercy.
"The fire is reignited, it's time to spit out some saliva," I said as I pulled a saber from a soldier's waist. "Come on, let's see if your spit can extinguish my anger."
He didn't get up, just continued to weep uncontrollably.
"Captain, calm down," Ober advised. "This is..."
"I am calm," I interrupted him, walking up to the jailer with the saber gleaming orange in the torchlight. "What is your name?"
"Milron, please..." the jailer pleaded.
"Stand up, Milron."
It was a while before he slowly complied. The blade flashed, the jailer screamed sharply, collapsed onto the dirty stone floor, unconscious.
I released my grip, the sparse strand of hair falling gently, brushing across my forehead before landing on Milron's dirty coat.
"I cannot break my oath, so I must use this lock of hair as a substitute for your head," I said. The wind blew in through the open window, causing the torch to flicker. "Keep that strand of hair. Remember to give dignity to your prisoners in the future."