The Canadian Civil War: Volume 5 - Carbines and Calumets

  Chapter 27 –

  A show within the show

  There was a loud knocking on my door. I was aware of it. It took me a minute to finally react to it. There was a knocking on my door – someone wanted to see me. It was time for me to get up. I got up. I walked to the door. I put one hand on the wall to steady myself and then opened the door.

  “Doctor Murphy. You are not well.” It was Guillard. Why was he back so soon?

  “I am fine. I am just a bit groggy. I was taking a nap. Did you want to talk some more about this evening?”

  “Doctor Murphy, it is evening. I have come to take you to the rally.” Evening? I looked out the window. Yes, it was already getting dark. How had that happened?

  “I am surprised I slept so long. I am sorry if I have detained you. Please let me get my coat, and I will be right with you.” My head hurt like crazy and I was cold. The damn air conditioning must have been cranked up to its limit. I took a second to take a couple aspirin and put on a blazer and then I returned to Guillard.

  “Doctor Murphy, you may be ill. It might be better if you stayed here and rested.”

  “I’ll be fine. I just slept too long. You know how that is, it takes a minute or two to be fully awake.” I followed him down the hall, one hand on the wall as I walked. I still felt half asleep. Somehow I made it down the stairs and out to his car which was parked right in front of the doors. He had a little Peugeot. Getting into the front seat was agony. This man needed a raise so he could afford a car for grown ups.

  There wasn’t much conversation as we drove. Guillard kept looking over at me, but he said nothing. I couldn’t think of anything to say either. I watched the streets go by. The last time I had been to South Square it seemed all of New Orleans was walking down Canal Street to get there. This evening there was some traffic, and some pedestrians, but the crowds weren’t as dense. Maybe we were early.

  Guillard found a place to park just a block from the square. I wondered if it had been reserved for him. He came around and opened my door for me. That was helpful since I was really struggling to get myself back out of the car. There just wasn’t enough room for my feet, or my legs, or my head. In the end, I nearly fell out of the car. But by grabbing onto the door and pulling carefully, I was able to get myself into a standing position.

  “I have reserved a table at one of the restaurants, so we will be able to sit during the rally and still get a good view,” Guillard said as he led me across the square. I followed along. It occurred to me a blue blazer was a really bad thing to wear to a Heritage Party rally, but I was glad I had it. The night was unseasonably cold.

  When we got to the restaurant we sat at one of the outdoor tables facing the square, one of dozens of tables. Most were occupied, but not all. Again, I wondered if we were early. We ordered some cheese and fruit and wine. I was still not hungry, but the wine tasted good.

  About fifteen minutes after we arrived, the initial stages of the rally began. There was the usual testing of the sound system, and then some music turned up much too loud. People began to gather in front of the stage that sat along the end of the square. It was the same stage that had been there a few days earlier. Somehow it had looked bigger with thousands of soldiers standing in front of it. Now it was just an ordinary stage backed by the blue and white stripes of the Heritage Party and joined on each side by large screens that showed a series of images – mostly countryside - forests, farms, gently rolling hills. It was pretty.

  While we waited for the crowd to assemble and things to begin, I couldn’t help but look over at the table Margaret and I had shared.

  “She was beautiful, and she was smart, and she was brave.” I said. I wasn’t sure if I said it to myself or if I had said it out loud. It must have been out loud, and somehow Guillard knew what I was talking about.

  “She was all of that. She certainly made the library a more exciting place to work.”

  “She taught me how to do one of the local dances out on that square last summer. Or at least she tried.”

  “She was smart, but she was also innocent. She deserved better than these people.”

  “Yes, she deserved more.”

  “Tonight another payment will be made for what was done to her.” I looked at Guillard, wondering if he would say more, but he just shook his head and pointed toward the stage. I would have to wait to learn what he meant. While we waited, I pulled the collar up on my coat and wrapped my arms around myself. There seemed to be a cold wind coming off the river.

  The rally started shortly, beginning like all rallies and all show business acts do – with a warm up act. The guy they picked was young, and enthusiastic, but really nervous. Clearly this was the biggest audience he had ever spoken to before, and here he was, doing a warm up act for the future President of Southland. He had good looks going for him, and he had worked hard on his speech. He was too young to know that everything he was saying was a cliché. To him, it was all new. Maybe it was to some in the audience as well. They were beginning to arrive in reasonable numbers. About half the square was now full, not shoulder to shoulder, but reasonably dense. And he got them applauding at a couple of his obvious applause lines. And he had been told to get some interaction going, so there was the simple question and answer strategy with the obvious answers – Do you love freedom? Do you love this land? Et cetera.

  It occurred to me the kid would have done a reasonable job introducing some small town mayor. But somehow he had been promoted to the big time. Why? Was he some hot shot’s nephew? Or – and this was a big stretch – was he the best they could do? That seemed unlikely. But as he went through the pro forma riffs of the warm up speaker, I wondered if maybe the talent pool in the Heritage Party had been drained a bit.

  Finally the kid finished to polite applause and was replaced by three sisters who sang several cute songs before getting to “This Land I Love.” The girls were maybe eight to twelve years old, dressed in all kinds of frills, their hair in curls. Every grandmother in the crowd was thinking how cute they were, and how proud their mother must be, but still, it was one thing to listen to cute kids and another to get a rally going. Even the singing of “This Land” got reasonable participation but not the gut-busting, chest-pounding rendition it normally received. It was pleasant, that’s all.

  The next person on stage surprised me. It was Goulet. He was dressed up in his military finest, pistol at his side, standing with a military air that I hadn’t seen much in him before. He let the crowd look at him a bit, and then he stepped up to the microphone, his face now enlarged thirty feet high on the screens each side of him.

  “Good evening, my fellow countrymen.” He put real energy into that line, and got a fairly good response. Maybe he should have been the warm up guy. “I am Colonel Pierre Goulet of the Louisiana National Army.” He paused there and let the crowd cheer the army. “I wear this uniform with pride.” He put emphasis on the word “pride” and received a good response from the crowd. I recalled he had been a lawyer before he had given up a useful career to join the weasels. His legal experience was coming through now. He put out one sentence at a time, carefully hit a key word, and let the audience do what audiences do in those situations. “I share the pride of all soldiers.” Pause. “I share the honor of all soldiers.” Pause. I share the duty of all soldiers.” Pause. “I will defend my fellow citizens from all enemies – foreign and domestic.” Pause. More cheers. “I come from a family of soldiers, dating back to the days of the first British invasion. We served with pride then. We serve with pride now.” That got my attention. So he was related to the Captain Goulet who had fought at Quebec. That was interesting. But where was he going with all this?

  “My duty tonight is to introduce a man you all know. He is a man who has done so much. He is a man you have elected to represent you, to lead you, to take you into the future. He holds the title of Governor. He hold
s the title of President.” While he spoke, the screens switched from his face to a video of Andrees. He was standing in an office. There was no sound, but he looked concerned, angry even. “He is the man who has led us to where we are today.” At that point the audio cut from Goulet to the video on the screen.

  “It was never supposed to be that way, and you know it. They were to fire a few shots into the plaza. There was no need for anyone to get hurt. LeBeck and Foster hired bloodthirsty thugs who went on a rampage. You think I’m not sorry for that? You think I’m not sorry for her? I was grooming her. I was grooming her to be my wife. She was to be the first lady of Southland, not that fat pig I married.” The screen went dark at that point.

  Goulet stood at the microphone and said nothing. The crowd said nothing. Seconds went by and then Goulet spoke again.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, my fellow citizens of Louisiana, I took an oath to protect my country from all enemies foreign and domestic. I failed. It was my job to protect the people on that plaza. I failed. It was my job to protect the woman I loved. I failed. It was my job to protect you. I failed. I hereby resign my commission in the Louisiana National Army. You deserve better than that man you saw on the screen. You deserve better than me.” At this point he took off his hat and put it on the lectern, then he unbuttoned his jacket and laid it over his hat. Then he unbuckled his side arm and laid that on top of his coat. He turned, saluted the crowd, and walked off stage.

  Lights that had been illuminating the stage went off. The rally was over. Where was Andrees? Apparently he would not be appearing. People standing in the square stood and talked, and slowly drifted away.

  “Did he shoot Andrees?” I asked Guillard.

  “I don’t think so. But Andrees knew it was time to leave. Goulet wasn’t the only person who loved Margaret. Once it was commonly known what happened in the plaza, Andrees knew he had to move fast and far. I don’t know where he is now, nor do I much care. He is gone. Good riddance.”

  “Thank you for bringing me to this. I am glad I stayed to see it. Now, could you take me back to my hotel? I am freezing.” Guillard helped me to my feet. My wound was burning a bit, and it wasn’t easy to get my leg working right. But we managed to get across the square to his car and then to the hotel.

  “She trusted those people,” I said as I got out of the car.”

  “Like I said, she was innocent. I think we will all grieve her loss for a long time. And I think we will also grieve the loss of our innocence.”

  I shook his hand and started into the hotel. The doorman took my arm and helped me up the stairs and to my room. I dropped into bed and was asleep again in seconds.