The Sandman

There is no one to whom I may entrust my story.

Perhaps it is unwise to keep a journal.

A confession

to what my enemies would deem my... sins.

But if I do not write it,

it will be written for me

by those who would burn me at the stake for...

Who's there?

You are Lady Johanna Constantine, are you not?

Not one step further, sir.

But we are old friends, you and I.

We met in a tavern five years gone.

At the time, you believed me a demon.

Do you believe it still?

I have learned differently since.

There is a task I need accomplished.

A task that is beyond the King of Dreams?

Something of some value to me has been stolen.

I cannot involve myself in the matter.

It is a family affair.

Is it dangerous?

Yes.

Very much so.

What are you offering me, then?

I will give you what it is in my power to give you.

Where is this task sending me?

Stop right there, citizeness.

You're out very late, are you not?

I have a room at the inn.

At Mont-Marat, citizens.

What do you have in that sack?

Food, perhaps?

I assure you, there is nothing in this sack that would interest you.

We will decide that.

Open it.

There, my gallants.

Satisfied?

-Vile thing. -Whose head is that?

This aristo swine violated my little sister.

When I heard he was being brought to the Committee of Public Safety,

I persuaded the executioner to give me his head.

Which I will take back to my village, and I will show to my poor mother,

and she will spit on his face like this.

-Let her be. She's a madwoman. -Let her be?

Your eyes are as dull as your wits, Michel.

Come here, good citizeness.

I wish to inspect your head more closely.

A thousand thanks, girl.

This will buy many ham-hocks, many cabbages, and many bottles of wine.

Guillaume, why do I ever doubt you?

Because, my friend,

you have nothing between your ears but feathers and chicken droppings. Come.

-I am sorry. -It couldn't be helped.

The earring will bring him nothing but misery.

And eventually, it'll come back to me.

It's been stolen before.

And your ear?

Do you mean, will it grow back?

Alas, no.

Or the rest of me would have done so long ago.

In which case...

this might hurt.

My injuries would've been more severe

had it not been for your extremely convincing performance.

I admired yours as well.

Playing dead is easy.

It's actually dying I can't seem to manage.

We should both be so lucky.

No, I wouldn't wish that upon you.

Whoever you are.

I am Lady Johanna Constantine.

And I am at your service.

An aristocrat?

In the people's France?

As long as I can escape Robespierre's guillotine.

I'll be of no use there.

It was Robespierre himself who decided I was a threat to the people of France

and had his men lock me in the crypt in which you found me.

You don't look that dangerous to me.

You haven't heard me sing.

Dancing is out of the question.

May I ask you...

what is it you intend to do with me?

I intend to take you home.

To your home?

To the island from which you were stolen,

which I hope will be much better guarded from now on.

You know about the island?

Aye.

Master Orpheus.

Did the priests send you?

Did my father?

I am not at liberty to say.

How is he?

Did... did he seem all right?

At the moment, sir, my concern is for us.

The soldiers will have told their superiors by now.

Word will be out to look for a woman with a head.

With two heads.

The city gates will not be open until morning.

I wish they had not seen you.

Well, they have, my lady.

So, we better think fast, or else we'll both be as good as lost.

Well, they do say two heads are better than one.

Good morning, Captain. Officers.

Check that.

Open it.

Where have you hidden it?

I do not know what you are talking about.

We know that you have in your possession a stolen artifact,

Citizeness Bonchance.

Her name is not Bonchance, Captain.

Good day, Citizen Robespierre.

Your name is Johanna Constantine.

You are in possession of something which belongs to the people of France.

An object of superstition and decadence.

I want it back, Mademoiselle Constantine.

And what would you do with the head

if I were to tell you where it is?

I would destroy it, utterly.

And I will.

We are remaking the world here.

Creating an age of pure reason.

So I will not have an imagined oracle at large in my country.

If anything threatens France, it is my duty to destroy it.

So I have seen.

You will save France...

if it means killing every child, woman, and man in the country to do it.

We will find the head, woman.

And you will help us.

You have tonight to think further on this.

Or in the morning,

the guillotine will still your tongue forever.

Take her away.

Thus it was I found myself immured in the palace of Luxembourg,

where my death awaited me at the edge of a weighted blade.

You're having problems, I see.

Putting it mildly, don't you think?

Will you help me?

I may not be seen to intervene in the matter.

Then might I suggest you give the matter some thought, sir?

Your son's head is valuable to you.

And I am rather attached to mine. Hitherto we have been inseparable.

Now it appears both heads might be lost.

How is he?

He asked me the same about you.

-And you said nothing, of course. -I didn't answer, of course.

He says he wishes to die.

He once said the same to me.

I suppose I cannot blame him.

After all he's suffered.

But even in his current state, he is...

He's more alive than anyone I've ever met.

He jokes at his own expense. He's curious.

He asks questions, and more remarkably, he listens to the answers.

He even offered to sing for me.

Did he sing for you?

He did not.

At the time, the severed head and I were trying not to draw attention to ourselves.

Is he able to sing in the place where you have hidden him?

Yes.

Although I don't think he'll feel much like singing.

He will if you ask him to.

It came to me in a dream.

It was so obvious.

So blindingly obvious.

Where do you hide a book? In a library.

Where do you hide a flower? In a garden.

Where do you hide a severed head?

You tell me, Citizen Robespierre.

You hide a severed head amongst other severed heads.

With the corpses that have not yet made their journey to the lime pits.

Now, Mademoiselle.

Will you do me the courtesy of introducing me to your friend?

Citizen Robespierre,

it is not too late.

You can let me go.

I will take what I came for,

leave France, and...

never bother you again.

Neither you nor the head will be leaving France, mademoiselle.

In which case, remember this...

I offered you one final chance.

Your attempts to threaten us are laughable.

Bring me the head.

This is the head of Orpheus,

whose song was powerful enough to sway even the hearts of Hades and Persephone.

Do you take us for peasants, Johanna?

The myths are dead.

The gods are dead.

There is only the State and the people.

No, Citizen Robespierre.

There is much more than that.

Enough! Bring me the head!

Now, Messiah Orpheus, sing to them.

He sang of freedom, of liberty.

A song so powerful that even the dead joined him to sing it.

A song which cast a spell upon the listener,

such that Robespierre and his men stood and listened like statues.

It is my belief that Orpheus's song