New York City, New York, the United States of America
January 30th, 1811
Charlotte Corday was a woman well accustomed to dealing with death.
Over her life, she had dealt it out more times than she could count; she had killed dozens of men with musket, rifle, and even bayonet once or twice. As a wartime Minister of Defence of the Second French Republic, she had sent many thousands more of her own countrymen and women to their dooms in the service of their country. And as all military justice was typically the responsibility of the Minister of Defence, she had even signed off on the executions of those who had rebelled against the authority of their elected superiors; grim, hard work, but she had seen first hand in the first war the importance of discipline in an army, even a free, democratic one.
She had even faced death directly herself, 18 years ago, at Strasbourg, with a musket ball in her shoulder. Lying in the field hospital, she had been truly convinced she would die that day, and even welcomed it — better than the excruciating pain that was the alternative back then, and had never entirely departed her body. No, she was familiar with death and not afraid of it.
And yet now, sitting in New York with the American President, faced with her own mortality in a very different sort of way, she felt a deep chill running down her spine.
She put down the document she had been fixated with for the last ten minutes and breathed in deeply. “This information is...”
“Yes, madame colonel, it’s all entirely accurate,” President Hamilton said. “I suppose you understand now our reluctance to share this information.”
“Oui.” A lesser person would be broken by knowing of their fate in a history that never was, especially one as grisly as her own. Marat, that poisonous little creature... but he was long dead, executed for treason many years ago, the Jacobin Club was but a distant memory, and Corday was still here. “But that, I think, is not why I am here.”
Hamilton nodded. "No. These revelation of these secrets are merely proof that you have been inducted into the Watchmen Society."
A secret society of the best and brightest men in America, who had access to knowledge and foresight that likely came from God himself...it was a long way from the abbey in Caen. "But why reveal these secrets to me? I am not the President of France, Danton is."
"Danton is..." Hamilton hesitated, visibly mulling his words. "America views Danton as a fine leader and a friend, but information of this nature requires a higher level of trustworthiness, and Danton has not quite reached that standard yet." The words seemed harmless and reasonable, but Corday well knew what he meant -- she well knew that any accounting of the official of the finances of the Republic would reveal irregularities surrounding the Presidency and the Ministry of the Interior, where Danton's personal influence was unshakeable. Not to mention, this sort of information was not the sort that you placed in the hands of those in the spying business without being very, very careful about it.
Still, though, he was the President of France, and by any standard a good one. Somewhat venal and vain, yes, but he loved his country and his Republic and was truly committed to the welfare of all its citizens, especially its poorest. So long as he was well-compensated along the way, of course.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
"D'accord. But you did not answer my first question."
"You command the largest, most powerful army in Europe. You have proven your selfless commitment to the ideals espoused by the Society since you ran across that bridge at Lyon. And, if I may be so presumptuous, we believe your own Presidency is merely a matter of time. In truth, we have rarely found a better candidate for induction."
"I am not American, and I have no desire to become American," Corday pointed out. Unlike someone, I know... but now was not the time for that. "My loyalty is to my patrie, to France."
“The Society believes that the future of democracy depends on the strength and stability of both our two nations. The United States is protected by large oceans, but France is surrounded by its enemies. If liberty is to flourish, your country must be given all the help it can.”
And thus all the financial and military aid since 1790, Corday realized. All the money, all the weapons, even American military units... it suddenly all made sense. As did the most inexplicable — in her eyes — decision that President Danton had made in 1808.
“You are worried about the rise of Germany, and thus France must be strong.”
“I think what you have just read proves that a powerful Germany, especially one under the thumb of Prussia, is a potential threat to the whole world but to your country most of all.”
Les guerres du monde... she could just about imagine Verdun, even if the numbers involved boggled her imagination. She could not imagine Auschwitz and Treblinka, and all the other horrors these ‘Nazis’ appeared to have cooked up in the history that never was. Suddenly, Lafayette convincing Danton to willingly throw away all of France’s hard-earned gains during the recent war to craft a neutral state — a Kingdom no less — between France and Prussia made complete sense. As did the enthusiasm of Danton and the Americans to throw money at the new Kingdom to connect their economy to the Republic in any way possible.
“Perhaps we should prevent the problem altogether, and break Prussia entirely,” Corday suggested. Had he not just acknowledged that the French army was the finest in Europe?
“Perhaps. But the other history also demonstrates, quite clearly, that interfering too much with the governance of another nation is fraught with the risk of unexpected consequences. Who is to say that we do not create the same outcome, with a Germany angry and resentful at our meddling?”
Corday did not entirely agree — better to lance the boil immediately, she thought — but she could see the point. And although she was now an inductee into the Watchmen Society, she was not a full member and knew that Hamilton had access to information far beyond what she had just read.
“And so we wait?”
“We wait. A man must commit a crime before you may condemn him.”
“Very well.” Corday sighed. “I suppose the military inspections will be quite different to what I was expecting when I was sailing from France.”
“Yes, but I’m told ARPA has had one or two problems with their prototypes — the demonstrations will be in two weeks instead. In the meantime, madame colonel, you are welcome to see what you please in New York. Do you have anything in mind?”
Corday grimaced. “I think I will go visit my little sister Genevieve. While your 707th battalion was in Paris, she met one of its officers and eloped with him when they returned to America. I believe they are currently here in New York.”
Hamilton chuckled in sympathy. “I can hear that you do not entirely approve.”
Corday gave a distinctly Gallic shrug. Good and pious Catholic although she was, she was also still a revolutionary feminist down to her bones. Even when it came to her beloved little sister running off with an American soldier across the Atlantic.
“She is her own woman. And she is probably safer here in America than in France.”
Hamilton nodded. “What was the soldier’s name again?”
“Lucius Bonapart.”