Chapter 81: Olivier and His Anger
Olivier and his anger flogged the road with his horse’s cracked hooves. Its mouth and eyes wide open, the horse pierced the air with cracked nostrils.
If Olivier were FUlbert, Pierre would be dead, everyone in Tuen would be missing a right ear, Thaila would be his. He would have gauged the disgusted little eyes from the brown little face, covered the bloody holes with leather, cut out the tongue that cried monster. If Olivier were FUlbert, Thaila would be dead. But she’d be his.
If Olivier were CLément of Deran, he wouldn’t have done anything. Thaila would have escaped with her father, travelled day and night all the way to Eslarina, where they would forget Olivier, Baynard, Franária. Thaila would live. But she wouldn’t be his.
No. Olivier was more like Henrique: he let them all die and pretended not to notice. He sent the Eslarian to slavery, cut out his best friend’s legs, left his best friend’s son swear loyalty to the same useless king, gave Maëlle to Anuré.
Maëlle was so like Olivier’s wife. Full of pride and bushido, implacable idealism. If we act correctly, we will make the difference.
Fulbert of Patire at least killed with his own hands. Olivier left them to die alone, away from the eye and the conscience. There was the Emerald, splendid and almost shiny, as though the War didn’t exist. Let it all perish, as long as nothing blemished the white petals in Henrique’s orchid greenhouse.
Olivier rode to the castle, dismounted, staggered and leaned against the Emerald’s wall. He was old. His horse folded its front legs, lay down, died. Olivier felt immense pleasure. He killed a horse with fatigue. Yes, he did it! It was he who killed that horse in that empty castle.
So empty. Where were the soldiers? Where were the people? There were silhouettes piercing the sky from the top of the walls, but Olivier wouldn’t tell if they were people or scarcrows. Where was Henrique?
The dead horse’s hooves still echoed ghastly against Debur’s pavement. The echo gre louder, closer. It was no echo. A rider appeared at the bend, dismounted at the gate, glanced at the dead animal on the ground.
‘I bring news from Fabec.
‘Fabec doesn’t exist anymore,’ said Olivier.
‘Nonetheless it was invaded.’