12: THE AUTHENTIC TWO

  “Damn, I hate the confines of protocol. I may have created some of the madness, but I did not act soon enough when more was added and then more. In the end, A never-ending set of rules and responsibilities is nothing but "fumée et miroirs" and "une grande illusion."

People are always asking me to do this and that, to fulfill their needs and wishes, to cover mistakes, and to help with whatever they require. I am just a woman. I was not born for this job and did not ask for it or its responsibilities, but that is fate.” 

Jonathan was unsure what to do or say, as all of his former dealings with the Authentic had been curt, official, polite and without any sign of the Authentic being vulnerable or showing any vestige of emotional humanity; she was always distant and aloof.

Isabel and Jonathan warned Evelyn not to react to anything said and only to respond when directly requested. She was trembling. 

The Authentic looked at them partly in shock, firstly because of what she had said, and partly in awe that she had created fear in others by the power of her authority.

“Jonathan, who is this young woman?”

“Authentic, her name is Evelyn Harwood-St Croix, and I…”

“No, be quiet… you lady, who are you, where are you from, what should I know of you? Why are you here, or why do you think you are here?”

Evelyn looked at Jonathan and hesitated. 

“Young lady, damn it, I asked you questions, and I would like answers before sundown.”

Evelyn regained her composure and more. “It is like this.” She then gave a brief history of her birth and family, her life in England, and a concise report of everything that transpired after her first encounter with St Croix.

“There, that was not that difficult. Come with me behind this stupid chair and through these curtains, and let us talk. You will be the first non-household staff member here since, well, I guess Louis, before he ascended to the throne. That was a time to be alive.”

Neither of the guests asked which Louis. They just let her continue.

“Great Authentic, do this and do that. No one has called me by my name since the Crusades. I cannot recall which one; it may have been a later Crusade, but it was a Crusade.”

Jonathan looked at her. “The Crusades?”

“Yes, that is just what it feels like. Centuries!”

Evelyn looked at Jonathan and then the madame. “Is your name not Collette?”

She laughed. “No, dear child, that is part of the title.” Collette is a name of French origin. It is a diminutive of Nicolette, a feminine derivative of the Greek masculine name Nickolas. Its meaning is “victory of the people.” The Authentic is a title, meaning the True or leader of all the Colettes.

So, I am the True leader taking our people to victory, and I do not know what that means.”

“But my lady, you have always led us, and we all look to you and the other Colettes for answers.” Jonathan dared to inject.

“Other Colettes?”

“Yes, Evelyn, a Collette. Well, other Colettes are regional leaders and appointees during times of crisis.”

“What is your name?”

“Alpaida, not the queen but of the same family. My father, I believe, was Pepin of Landen. I was a bastard daughter. I had two half-sisters, Gertrude and Begga. You may know of Gertrude of Nivelles. She is the patron saint of Cats.

Begga, her older sister, is also a saint. I think she is my younger sister and the grandmother of Charles Martel. He was the first of the great Frankish kings, and Martel was the grandfather of Charlemagne. I avoided that pious distinction by becoming Devi and fled Metz and the Frankish lands at an early age.

Unlike most other Devi, I was cursed with a much greater ability to sense others. I was recognized for that ability, and the myth of the Authentic Collette was born.

“You are twelve hundred years old?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“But you can recall all that and remember all your earlier lives. Jonathan says he cannot recall anything from the past four hundred years when he thought he had become Devi.”

“Another part of the curse that I do not care about is that I remember everything: everyone and every face.

“And Isabel? What of her?”

 “She has travelled with me for a long time and is, or was, a daughter of one king or another. The Holy Roman Empire was not all that “holy,” nor Roman or an Empire… but assuredly not ‘holy.’” 

Collette led them through a heavy curtain and opened a plain but ancient wooden door, indicating they should enter. As they walked by her, she said, “This is who I am, and I have this room to keep my connection to the past and keep a connection to myself.”  

Unlike the appointments of the last room, this space was shockingly… the only word Jonathan could think of was ‘decrepit.’ Evelyn almost began to back out of the room.

The walls were bare, and the wood was weathered in many places. Other planks looked heavily lacquered. The floor was a mix of uneven slate and other stones, patched with crumbling mortar.

To one side were some roughly hewn cabinets. Above those were small stacks of pewter or wooden bowls. A straw mattress was raised slightly off the floor on two timbers in one corner. In the center of the room was a heavy-set table and three mismatched chairs.

A crude desk and rows of neatly arranged books and journals were displayed on the opposite wall. On the wall above the desk was a small window with a thick woollen drape pulled to one side. Other than the weak stream of outside light, the only other light source was two candles on the table.

“I want you to look at this. This is from where I came from and where our kind came from. It is the fabric of who we once were and still are. Madame St Croix, you may think this is not where a fine English lady like yourself has roots. So, I ask you, ‘How did your father’s, father’s, father live? Was he born and bred into the lap of luxury and with fine linens? Or did he smell like cow shit and reek of his urine?

I have seen peasants rise well beyond their birthright and become chevaliers, Barons, Lords and Kings.

 Likewise, I have seen monarchs and kingdoms fall.

Two things that unite us all are piss buckets and death.”

She threw a log on the burning fire in the corner opposite the bed.

“I may be speaking frankly and directly to you, but that does not sanction you to talk to me on familiar terms or imply that we are of equal status. With a mere thought, I could have people rush into this room and kill you. Your blood would add to the filth here

Why this room, why do I have it here, and why does it look as it does? It is close to a replica of where I first lived after leaving Pepin’s palace in Austrasia.

Come. We will sit at the table, and I will tell you, woman, what you need to hear. And I will pour you some wine, France's poorest efforts of her grapes.”

They sat at the table, and the Authentic poured out three large amounts of wine, which was not a good wine but not nearly as bad as they feared.

She spoke of the early days of her life. “It was much easier for the Devi to blend in with the Standards and how, with most Standards living for forty-five or fifty years, there was no problem moving to a tiny town or city a day or two away and not being seen by anyone from your former residence. Then, to another city, and in a generation or two of Standards, you could return to your original town. Now, with the bureaucracy and the rising powers of nation-states, with censuses and tax rolls, the ability to move and to settle quickly is no longer an option.”

Because of that civility on progress, she suggested a methodology for the Devi to thrive and prosper in the light of society and gain leverage over their affairs. 

“Jonathan, there was a gold merchant until recently, and now the Spaniard Orlan Marcano has bought the business. Another Devi bought Marcano’s enterprise, and another bought his. This affair and all these transactions should not have happened for another five to seven years. But that is the way of life, nothing as planned, especially with the young. The Latins had an apt phrase: Dementia Praecox, the insanity of youth.

I believe Philadelphia would suit you two. It is new, industrious and we have an opening in the newspaper business. Is there anything you need to know or want to know?”

“What should we call you in this room?”

“Alpaida, as I am addressed in this room, young lady, but say it respectfully and keep your questions brief?”

“Alpaida, how could you accomplish all of this in such a short time since my accident? Such a short time ago and off in Ireland.” 

“I assume your loving husband has not fully explained a Devi. We take our name from an ancient goddess from the Hindu faith in India. Perhaps that is where we first lived. Devi is considered one of the most powerful beings in their pantheon. She is often depicted as having many names, faces, talents, and tasks. And that trait, or those traits, suit our kind well.

She is a warrior who kills demons, which ties in with the derivatives of Nickolas, Nicollette, and Collette.

But to answer your question about how I or we knew, Devi is also known as the embodiment of female energy, and all Devi women develop an ability to hear and sense one another. We can communicate over distances, not by words or phrases, but by sensing ideas, images, and situations. So, I was made aware of this state of affairs almost as it happened.”

“Jonathan mentioned that he could feel others nearby. Is that the same thing?”

“Yes, but no. We believe it is the same sort of thing, but the female power is a thousand times more. Speaking of your husband here, did he mention what could be called our feeding or lust?”

“He had mentioned the need to feel great pain, love, or other emotional sentimentalities.”

“Yes, we grow and live and thrive on the feelings of others. We feed empathically, and it is not like we cause pain, eat flesh or drink blood. We feel the sorrow or joy of others, which feeds and refreshes us like the sun fed the grapes that made this wine. Perhaps using these grapes as an analogy is not the best representation of our identity.

We feel the grief of a mother as her child dies, and if one or two or three of us are there, we all feel the energy. It is not as if we all would take in one-third of that woman’s grief, but like the grapes on the vine in the sun, they all take in full measure.

One person's joy or sorrow may fill a room this size. The energies of a carriage crash, a family lost in a fire, a great wedding, or some grand event may be felt at a greater distance. We use the energy of sorrow differently than the energy of joy.

The man who travelled here with you, Matheu, was in the Great Fire of London, and the pain and loss there may have nourished his being for a hundred years or more. The emotions and loss were so great then, even here in Paris. Although we could not see the flame, nor could they even be closer as in Normandie, we could feel some slight tinge of fear and loss during those days of September 1666.  

We are creatures of pain and love. We try to cause neither, and yet we often gravitate to the land of wars and the fields of conflict. Your Jonathan was with Napolean and, as I mentioned earlier, in a rebellion in the lands of New Spain, and his first recollections were of the fall of the Second Rome, Constantinople.” 

I am in France, a land of many wars and fabulous love. For myself, La Révolution and the Reign of Terror was fraught with danger, but in my soul, regardless of how I felt in my heart, I felt like I was held in the closest and firmest embrace of the gods, and in every part of my being there was a great warmth.” 

Jonathan looked at the Authentic and then to Evelyn, “Yes, Evelyn, I mentioned that to you in a way, but you may not have understood it as you may have still been suffering in an ill manner to the abuse that was served upon your head. When we arrived at the O’Leary’s home in Wicklow, she shortly met with some other local female Devi to relay our plight here to Alpaida.”

“Alpaida, if I may ask, why are all the Devi, or at least the ones I have seen or met, all about the same age? They all look like they are near or just under the forty years of age mark. Some older, some younger. Are there any children?”

“No, we no longer have any Devi children, or very few, perhaps 12 or 15, in the last two hundred years. The problem with children is the same as the need to move and hide in plain sight. We do not age; you can understand how that would be problematic for a newborn.