Honour and the Sword (35 page)

Then two weeks after the thanksgiving service I bumped into Jeanette Truyart after Mass and we finally had our breakthrough. We might have had it earlier, but I’m afraid I rather avoided Jeanette in those days, because of the embarrassment of the hostages. I know I ought to have been able to prevent her directing the conversation on to the subject, but she was really very persistent. I was quite sure she wanted me to repeat what she told me to André, and was afraid she must think me terribly obtuse for not taking her hints.

Only I simply had to talk to her this time, because André had insisted I thank her for the clothes she’d made, which were honestly quite marvellous. Jeanette was a wonderful dressmaker, which was all the more astonishing because her own taste was quite extraordinary. I think perhaps she made her clothes from offcuts she saved from those she made for others, because there were often patches of different fabrics incorporated into the patterns and she particularly seemed to favour stripes. Today there were inserts of lemon muslin in the fall of her skirt, and a square of vivid cerise implanted in her bodice.

She was delighted with André’s message, and blushed really quite becomingly. ‘Oh, M. Mercier, as if it wasn’t the greatest pleasure to do the smallest little thing for him. He is in my prayers every night, and in Mlle Anne’s too, she told me so herself.’

I said hastily ‘Well, they really were very fine clothes, and we’re extremely grateful.’

‘It was no trouble at all, M. Mercier, none at all. Your M. Gilbert is much of a size with my poor M. Florian, I beg your pardon, M. du Pré I should say, only rather broader, because of course my poor children don’t get the food and exercise they should, nothing like, not with only three rooms to live in these two years past. It’s small wonder they’re so excited at the prospect of coming out for a few hours, even if it is for a dinner with that Don Francisco.’

I had been about to pretend I had another engagement, but these last words arrested me at once. I said carefully ‘With Don Francisco?’

‘I know, Monsieur,’ she said at once. ‘A terrible thing for a fine French family to stoop to, but they can hardly pass up the chance of a proper meal, the food they’re given you wouldn’t believe, soup like the common soldiers get, and them brought up like gentlefolk …’

I asked casually ‘And when is it, this meal?’

‘Oh bless you for your interest, Monsieur, I’ll tell them if I may, it’s so good for them to know they’re not forgotten. But it’s a week from today, as if it weren’t irreligious enough without having it on the Lord’s Day and a Vigil at that, only it’s his fête day, Monsieur, so he’s to be given a banquet at the Château to celebrate. My M. and Mlle du Pré, they’re that excited you wouldn’t believe, it’s only my young Mlle Anne not so keen. She says to me right out she’s no wish to make the fat oaf’s birthday any nicer, oh, quite a way of talking she has, my Mlle Anne, not exactly fitting for a lady but then what education is she getting, and no one can accuse her of want of spirit.’

She drew breath at last, so I quickly made my excuses and hastened to the Hermitage to give them the news.

I feel terrible about it now, of course, but I couldn’t possibly have known. At the time it honestly felt quite perfect.

Jacques Gilbert

It might have been awkward when Jean-Marie said the information came from the hostages, but Stefan just said it proved how comfortable they were in the Château, and André had to agree.

We worked out a plan right away. It was obviously impossible to get the bastard in the Château, we’d got to do it on the way. Whichever route he took he’d still have to pass that last section between the Back Road and the Château gates, and that’s where we’d nail him. He’d be in that closed carriage, of course, but it didn’t matter if he rode in a hay cart now, we’d still know it was him, and the lack of an escort would only make things easier. The only worry was doing it quietly enough, with three hundred troops at the Château just round the corner, but Marcel said we’d put up ropes to stop the horses, use archers to kill the driver, then turn the whole carriage with Don Francisco still inside and drive it back to the Flanders Road so we could do what we needed undisturbed. It all felt perfect and like nothing could possibly go wrong.

That evening the boy suggested casually we might stroll into Ancre, and I understood why. We hadn’t been back since the funerals, but it felt different now we were going to put things right. All our men were buried there, it hadn’t been safe at St Sebastian’s with d’Estrada’s men watching it all the time, but I could see from the flowers that the families visited regularly just the same. The only grave a bit bare was M. Gauthier’s, because he didn’t have any family, but the boy said ‘Yes he does, he’s got us,’ and we went scouting round the gardens for late roses and scattered them all over. The earth had only just settled, there wasn’t grass on it or anything, but I didn’t mind, it felt more like M. Gauthier was still there. Sitting beside it with the boy, I felt more peaceful than I had in ages, and there was this strange feeling stealing over me of everything coming right.

‘Why don’t you visit your family?’ said André softly. ‘They’re just across the drive.’

It seemed like a good idea. I was desperate to find out if Father had meant what he said, I’d been wondering about it for days, but hadn’t had the courage to test it out. Now I thought I had.

André settled comfortably to wait by M. Gauthier, and I crossed the drive. I told myself I wouldn’t have lost anything if Father was in a different mood today, it would just be like it was before. In fact it wasn’t, it was the best things had ever been. Father sat me down by the fire, and let me fill his pipe for him even though Little Pierre was reaching for it at the same time. Mother was so pleased she cooked an omelette specially, even though it was Sunday and she shouldn’t have. Blanche played with my hair, said it was ‘as long as Dré’s now’ and wanted to know why I wasn’t wearing my nice clothes. Everything felt warm and like home.

Little Pierre was the only grumpy one. He wasn’t impressed by anything, not even when I told them about our plan to kill Don Francisco. I obviously didn’t say anything about the army, I only said it was me and André, but he still went sort of ‘Huh,’ like it was nothing. Father seemed to approve though, he gave a kind of slow nod of acknowledgement, and I knew he was proud. When I was leaving he said again about giving them notice so they could get special food in, and even asked if I’d join them for Christmas. I didn’t hesitate this time, I said of course I would, and meant it.

It was dark when I left, but the boy had waited, and we walked back together through the back meadow, like we’d done that very first day. I can still remember the smell of roses drifting soft in the evening air.

Colin Lefebvre

Good action to be part of, everyone wanted to be in on this one. Team were hand-picked, all of us skilled and burning to be in at the kill.

Started off right and tight in the morning, hid the horses by the main foresters’ road, then went on foot to the site itself. Got there good and early, plenty of time to sort our positions and load the guns.

I was on the fringes of the Dumont farm, holding the ropes on the east side of the road with Margot. Didn’t seem right putting a woman on a job like that, only there on account of being a marksman, no call to go asking her to take the weight of carriage horses as well, but I told her not to worry, if the strain was too much I’d help her. Funny woman. Said to me straight-faced ‘And if you’re in trouble I’ll help
you.
’

Jacques was with us as swordsman, along with Dubois himself. No one else on our side, cover being rather thin, they were all tucked away across the road in the Forest of Verdâme. Luckily we’d a runner to nip between us, Pepin or some such name, only about twelve, but Leroux said he was the best little poacher in Picardie, said if he was half as good with a musket as he was with a sling he’d soon be rivalling Mercier. Wasn’t sure I liked the idea of giving him a musket, truth be told. Dark skin, dark eyes, shifty look, I’d have said he was more than half gypsy. Still, I sent him for more powder from the other team, and off he went, happy as a little dog.

So there I was, right, waiting for him to come back, when there’s movement over the other side, flash of something tan-coloured dropping through the leaves. Leroux coming down off the tree, and I realize something’s up. Take a step towards the road, but there’s Dubois beside me, pushing me back against the wall of the barn.

‘Soldiers,’ he said. ‘Coming out the Château gates.’

So they were, maybe two dozen of them. Lined up across the road in three whole ranks, muskets on the stands like they meant business. Looked to me for all the world like a firing squad, only with no one to shoot at.

‘Georges is signalling,’ said Margot, and we all looked down the Kingsway to see this white handkerchief waving from a tree in the distance. Soldiers coming from that way too.

Jean-Marie Mercier

Giles said there were men in the woods behind us.

‘How far?’ said Stefan.

‘Six, seven hundred yards. Going slowly, keeping hidden, checking no one’s getting past them.’

‘Do they know we’re here?’

Giles shrugged.

A muscle twitched high up on Stefan’s cheek, but that was the only sign he made. He turned to us, said ‘Abort,’ and began to jog towards the road to warn the others, but Marcel was already signalling frantically to urge him back, and pointing towards the Château. Stefan halted on the edge of the woods, and they stood whispering and miming to each other across the road.

Philippe adjusted the quiver on his back and reached for his bow. Bernard settled his crossbow under his arm, and pulled down his woollen hat with trembling fingers. Young Pepin started dumbly gathering up the bandoliers. I had my first musket already slung round my shoulders, but when I reached for the second Giles stopped me.

‘You can’t run like that, soldier,’ he said. ‘Leave it. Leave them all.’

It went against everything we’d ever been taught to leave the guns, and I think it was that more than anything that made me realize how serious the situation was. It was so quiet, you see. I couldn’t hear anything wrong, I couldn’t see anything that looked different from a moment before, but suddenly there was danger screaming all round. I watched in a kind of trance as Giles calmly shouldered his own musket and stood tapping his fingers on the butt as we waited for Stefan to get back. Bettremieu was reeling in the ropes under the dead leaves like a fisherman with a line, while André lingered by the road, with Jacques staring desperately at him from the other side.

‘Musketeers,’ said Stefan, picking up his own gun. ‘Both directions. The road’s blocked. Can we get through them in the woods, Leroux?’

Giles bared his teeth in a fox-like smile. ‘Can try,’ he said, and turned to lead the way.

Jacques Gilbert

I couldn’t get to him. The musketeers outside the Château weren’t moving, there were more setting up position down the Kingsway, one step on that road would get us blown to pieces in a second. The boy was only yards away, but I couldn’t get to him, and he couldn’t get to me.

Colin said ‘They’ll be all right, they’ve got Leroux. Verdâme verderer, isn’t he? He’ll get them through.’

Stefan was moving the team after Giles. The boy trotted after them, then gave me a grin and a wave before he turned and the forest swallowed him.

‘Come on,’ said Marcel urgently. ‘They’ll be after us too, if they’re not already. Back to the horses, then we’ll try and support the others.’

Our own escape was easy, we’d only got to make our way down the farm till we were behind the musketeers on the Kingsway, then nip over into the Dax-Verdâme woods and run like hell up to the Back Road. We never saw any soldiers after us, I suppose the farm was too open to look a good site for an ambush.

The horses were just where we’d left them, grazing contentedly near the Flanders Road with Pinhead keeping guard. We’d expected to be coming back here with a carriage and Don Francisco, I’d seen us in my head all whooping and laughing with excitement, and here we were running in grim silence with a million questions in our heads and a sick sense of fear in our stomachs.

Marcel seemed as desperate as I was. He shoved us towards the horses and said ‘We’ll go north of the site and work back down towards it. Lead as many horses as you can. If they break through, there may be pursuit close behind and we’ll need to get them out fast. If they don’t, maybe we can at least give them cover to help them disperse.’

It sounded good, it sounded like something. But Tonnerre was snorting uneasily as I mounted him, and as I grabbed his reins Tempête was doing the same.

Beside me Colin stiffened and said ‘Smoke.’

There was something tingling at my own nose too. I turned east to stare into the forest back towards the ambush site. It seemed quiet and peaceful in there, we still hadn’t heard so much as a gunshot, but away in the distance something was obscuring my view of the trees, blurring them over with the faintest bluish haze.

Colin was right. Smoke.

Jean-Marie Mercier

‘Smoke,’ said Philippe. ‘From the west.’

I don’t think I’d ever seen Philippe when he wasn’t smiling. He was always jolly, you see, always flashing that great gap-toothed grin, but now there was just the face of a man I didn’t know and his lips forming the word ‘Smoke.’

Stefan swore. ‘Trying to drive us to the gorge and trap us there.’

There was a sudden rustle of leaves, then a weasel broke cover right in front of us. We watched uneasily as it darted away noisily through the bracken.

Giles’ voice seemed quite without expression. ‘I’ll have to turn us north-east, no choice about it. Maybe we can break through their line before we reach the gorge.’

I heard a tiny rasping sound behind me and saw André drawing his sword. He caught my eye and smiled. ‘There’s eight of us, Jean-Marie. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble breaking through.’ He started slithering his way past me through the undergrowth. ‘Can I come to the front, Giles?’