I had a feeling that our stay with Jean V. was overdue. For one, he wasn't a very zealous host, and living with him, we were no better than vagrants. And while, I wouldn't have had a problem with such a lifestyle, I knew we were imposing on Jean V., he must have wanted to go back to his solitude.
He took us around town more than a few times and there was barely any place in Montreuil that we hadn't seen. To my surprise, Jean V. had once held an important position in the city, him being the mayor. He had developed the city to one of the best industrial cities in all of Mercae during his time. Whatever led him to retire to such solitary life now, he didn't say. But I assumed that things like that came with old age.
Jean V. was an interesting man. He had a huge love for booze and rarely ate. He smoked two cigars at once and rarely took off his wide brimmed cowboy hat. He had a keen interest in God and in fact, he had been better in terms of his apparel, he might have been able to become a priest. He didn't let it show much, but he had profound knowledge about almost anything you could come up with. He hated answering questions though, so chances were he'd just dodge any queries with either some hilarious joke or a careless attitude, feigning complete ignorance. So unless he was in a drunken stupor, he really wasn't likely to say anything wise. Fortunately, there were more than ample chances to catch him completely given to the drink.
"Some Adam's ale for ya'll, pups!", he would say every time we sat down for breakfast. Water was all he had for guests.
One day, he began a story of why he hadn't gone on with Lady.
"An Auger, that missy!", he'd said, "I been to the big pasture, y'know, back before ma heydays. Had my fair share of the big jump, it ne'er did get me though. As ya can see, I'm still above snakes."
He downed a glass of whiskey, glared at me, sitting across from the fire, that night.
"She came ta me...roun' the time I got 'ere", his eyes dug into the crackling fire, "Had a runt at my door, outta nowhere. I was all abroad, wonderin' what alfalfa desperado might a' done me the honor. Ain't no way I was taking in that little rat."
"You seem to have taken a liking to rats ever since", Chopper chimed in, complaining about the vermin that occupied most of Jean's dwelling.
"Can't stand a hog-killin' time, can ya addle-pot?", Jean retorted.
Chopper frowned but didn't say anything. Jean continued after another swig.
"Well, the gal looks up ta my face and I, bein' all-overish 'round kids, say nothin'. 'Twas rainin' that evening. Gets airish like that once in a while, so I could 'a let her in, I s'pose."
"Did you?", I asked after he paused.
"Ya bet I did, biggest mistake I e'er made in ma born-days."
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The little girl, he later realized, was a deserter. Jean said that it was hard to believe that such young people fought in the war, although he'd heard of it. But only after he'd seen one himself, was he really convinced. Since the girl wouldn't say a word, he just settled on calling her the lady. He wasn't surrounded by many ladies so it was easy enough to "haul 'er 'round". Eventually he got around to knowing why she had deserted, she said there was no way people like her could make a difference. She'd been fighting for two years already, even at that tender age. After losing hope in the military, she had decided to run away but intended to return someday.
Lady stayed with him for one year. Jean said he hadn't been a fan of her idea about creating Valhalla.
"There weren't no hard feelings atwixt us 'bout it, but I told her about that lousy idea of hern. I told 'er to quit 'er balderdash. She had it 'gainst a lot of chaps, and I told her she could bed 'em down all she wanted. But she din' hafta leave."
Jean's dislike for the military might have been one cause but I conferred that he really didn't think Lady could do something like that at her age, or more like he didn't want her to do something like that. Jean was a fan of peace, more so than he let on. And all he really wished for was to have a contented life, that indeed, he deserved by all means. All his efforts had eventually meant nothing, as successful as he once had been. In the end, all it amounted to was this solitary shack, the only place where he found peace. And he'd liked sharing this peace with the young girl who stayed with him that year.
"I ain't no bronc buster, ya see", he rarely spoke low of himself, this was a sign that he was really drunk, "But I used to be one of 'em big guns, blazes! So if the little lady'd stayed...she was between hay and grass, y'know, back in the day, tender age them calls it! Well, if she'd stuck 'round, I coulda let her have a good life. Find a Belvidere f' her, or a ranch, bein' a big sugar like that, ain't awful, y'know what I mean?"
Indeed, I understood. Lady might not have encountered anyone else who was willing to save her as much as he did. Yet, she left him. I suppose there was no satisfaction to be found in that sort of life for her.
I looked over at Jean V. who was now too drunk to say anything decipherable now. He was wobbling more and more and I figured he'd topple over anytime now. He kept mumbling something which I can only wish I could hear. That brought an end to our night and our time with Jean V. Next morning, Chopper proposed that we shouldn't stay, for Jean's sake. I supposed he'd heard him too last night, even though he pretended to be asleep. I agreed, of course.
Jean slept in later than he usually did that day, so we decided to wait until he woke up. It was already midday when he appeared from some dark corner, looking haggard, like he did every morning. Sleep wasn't really kind to him. I could now understand where Lady got that from. Unlike him, she just never went to sleep.
After he had downed a drink, Chopper and I went to take our leave. He said we didn't have to be so formal and we could saunter away whenever we saw fit, although he didn't mind keeping us around. That was awfully nice, coming from him.
"We all have our own God, no one shares a God. But if God does not exist, then everything is permitted", Jean said, as he stood up from his chair and turned to look at me.
Apparently, he had read it somewhere, and quite likely formed an opinion of it. I was surprised to hear those words from him, since he was a staunch believer at core, and yet to pose such an ambiguity was so unlike him. I wonder why he decided to say something like that now.
He then looked at Chopper and grinned, to his friendly face, "Ya tell her, boy, next time, ya'll find me in the bone orchard...with some Brigham Young cocktail, ya hear?"
Chopper returned the grin and then Jean went back to his drinking. That was the last we saw of him, as we headed back home.