Honour and the Sword (44 page)

Read Honour and the Sword Online

Authors: A. L. Berridge

BOOK: Honour and the Sword
4.63Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

We’d got one last hope, and that was Arnould Rousseau. He was doing the cooking for the officers’ dinner in May, and Mlle Anne was right, this one was going to be at the Château. Marcel spent ages briefing him what to look for, then we just sat back and waited. It would leave us only four weeks till the raid itself, but we simply couldn’t think of anything else.

It was awful, just waiting. André was getting almost feverish, he wasn’t eating, and he didn’t sleep much either. He got great black circles under his eyes and his face looked white and sort of stretched. Marcel worried about him, but Stefan just grinned and said ‘Maybe next time he’ll think twice before making promises he can’t keep.’

I thought of M. Gauthier, and knew it mustn’t come to that. I’d got to find a way out of it without André breaking his word.

Anne du Pré

Extracts from her diary, dated 25–28 April 1639

25
APRIL

We had meat again for dinner, which makes twice in a week. The Owl seemed pleased, and said in his awful French ‘This is more like it, Mademoiselle.’ I think he worries about us.

Then the Slug took over duty, so of course Pablo came. I cannot call him ‘loathsome Pablo’ now, he can never be any kind of joke to me again. I would never,
never
have thought he could turn out so evil, and cannot help wondering how much Luiz is responsible for the change in him. When he came in today, he even walked like Luiz, he simply swaggered in without any greeting and asked if Colette would see him. I said I was sure she would never see him again, but he only smiled and asked if we had enjoyed our dinner.

A terrible suspicion occurred to me, and I found to my shame I could not meet his eyes. He laughed, and said ‘No matter, but I would be disappointed if the mutton were not as good as I was promised. Perhaps there may be more next week if Mlle Colette is feeling better.’

Florian asked me afterwards what it was Pablo had wanted. I told him ‘Nothing.’

28
APRIL

O thank God, Colette is ill.

I think she’s guessed I know. I saw her sitting on the bed tearing up the rags, and I couldn’t stop myself, I asked ‘Is it your time?’ She said ‘Yes,’ then looked up and asked ‘Why?’ and I think she saw in my eyes I knew. She didn’t ask again, she only looked back down at the rags, and went on tearing them without saying anything. I left her alone and sat with Florian, but I could still hear the sound of her tearing. It seemed to go on for hours.

Pablo came again this evening. This time Colette remained in the room, and he sat whispering to her for ages, though I was glad to see she kept her head lowered and would not answer him. He gave us some white bread to have with our soup, but Florian said it would be better if we could have more meat. Pablo said ‘I don’t know, what do you think about some meat, Mlle Colette?’ Colette didn’t look up, but he waited courteously and after a moment she nodded.

He must have been very prompt, because there were stewed pullets this evening. I ate as much as I could of the vegetables, but divided my chicken between the others, saying I was not hungry. Florian insisted I at least eat my bread, until at last I was compelled to tell him I would rather starve. They said nothing, but both stared at their plates for some time. I offered Florian my bread, but after a little silence he said ‘Give it to the birds.’

Jacques Gilbert

The May dinner came and went, and we still hadn’t got a way in. Arnould had poked and pried as much as he could, but hadn’t found see any way without going through the courtyard gate. He was sure there was one, though. The Château wasn’t like the Dax barracks, there were no whores allowed, but he was certain he’d heard some in the soldiers’ mess.

He said ‘They’re getting them in somehow, I’d stake my life on it. All you have to do is find out how.’

So we tried. We tried all we knew. We watched the Château day and night, hoping to spot someone sneaking in, but we never saw a thing. We went out into France, got siege ladders over the moat, and tried watching from the west side, but there was nothing happening there either. Stefan said maybe someone got caught the night of the dinner and they’d decided not to risk it for a bit. Marcel tried asking Verdâme prostitutes, but they said local girls weren’t allowed in the Château because of security, it was all women brought in from Artois.

Nothing worked, and after a week we sat down and confronted the fact we were no nearer getting in than we’d been in April.

‘We can still go ahead, can’t we?’ said André. ‘Once we’re at the Château walls we can try every window for ourselves.’

‘No time,’ said Stefan. ‘We’ve got to complete the whole thing before they change patrollers. It can’t be done.’

We were sitting at the platform end, huddled over Marcel’s map like we hadn’t studied it a hundred times before. There were all blobs of candle wax on it from nights just like this one, going over and over it, looking for an answer that wasn’t there.

Marcel sighed and sat back. ‘It’s no good, André, we’ll just have to forget June. Maybe we’ll come up with something by August.’

‘I’ve a better idea,’ said Stefan. He stretched, leant back against the wall, and took out his flask. ‘Let’s forget the Château altogether.’

André didn’t even look up from the map. ‘We’re just tired, that’s all. There’ll be a way, we’ll find it.’

‘We won’t,’ said Stefan. ‘It’s time to stop messing about and call a halt.’

André stared at him, but Stefan just stared back. The boy turned quickly to Marcel, but Marcel only lowered his head. Then he looked at me.

I felt like every kind of shit, but there wasn’t any point lying. I said ‘It’s not breaking your word, André, we only promised we’d try.’

He didn’t move. He just went on looking at me.

I said desperately ‘We’ve tried, haven’t we? There’s no shame in it, we’ve tried.’

He said ‘No, we haven’t. Four of us here, four soldiers, how can we sit without so much as a scratch between us and say we tried?’

Stefan started to roll up the map. ‘I suppose you’d rather we all died first.’

‘I don’t want anyone to die,’ said the boy. ‘I just want to get the hostages out.’

I said ‘But we can’t …’

He rounded on me, and for a second it was the old André. ‘Don’t you dare tell me I can’t. I must, that’s all there is. I must.’

No one said anything. The boy climbed slowly to his feet and I felt him looking down at us. Then I heard him step off the decking and head for the door.

I scrambled up but Marcel was quicker. He laid his hand on my arm, said ‘I’ll do it,’ and went after the boy. I stood miserably listening to his footsteps and the banging of the door.

The decking creaked as Stefan stood. I heard him brush the straw off his breeches, then walk up behind me and stop. I felt his breath on the back of my neck.

I said ‘If you start gloating over him now …’

‘Oh, grow up,’ he said. He stepped past and down off the platform, looking thoughtfully at the open door. ‘There’s more to this than a nobleman giving his word, isn’t there? There’s something else driving him.’

I said bitterly ‘You’ve never understood him, never, you couldn’t begin.’

His head screwed round to me for a moment, then he looked back at the door. ‘Thanks for the enlightenment,’ he said, and walked after the others.

Anne du Pré

Extract from her diary, dated 30 May 1639

I had looked forward so much to Jeanette coming, but now everything is spoilt.

Pablo and Luiz visited during the Slug’s duty, and again Colette allowed it. She remained on the
lit de repos,
but Pablo sat with his arm along her headrest and whispered down at her, and she did not turn away. Luiz leant against the wall and watched them with a proprietorial smile on his face. I hate him so much it hurts.

Florian was no help, he merely yawned as if he were tired, and strolled into his bedroom so he didn’t have to see. I knew perfectly well they wanted me to leave too, but I wouldn’t. I worked on the red of the pheasant’s face, and listened as hard as I could to Pablo.

He had the effrontery to ask Colette if she would attend their party when the senior officers dined again in Dax, and simply would not accept her refusals. He was speaking very softly, but I think he said something about it all being very different. He said the wine and her beauty were enough to go to any man’s head, but this time she would be treated like a queen.

Then the Slug brought in Jeanette, so I stood at once and said ‘You will have to leave now, gentlemen, our maid is come.’

Luiz looked at me quite impertinently and said ‘Oh-ho, little Mademoiselle, that is for your sister to say. Do you wish us to leave, Mlle Colette?’

Poor Colette. She dare not tell them to leave because she is afraid the meat will stop. She said timidly ‘No.’

Pablo smiled at me and said ‘You needn’t trouble to stay, Mademoiselle, if you need time with your maid. We shan’t be offended if you go to the bedroom.’

Luiz laughed, and I sat down again at once. I would not leave my sister alone with them, I
would not.

Jeanette was disconcerted, for she had never seen behaviour like this before, and seemed unsure what to do for the best. At last she said ‘I will see to your clothes then, Mademoiselle,’ and I just said ‘Yes.’

I cannot believe I was such a fool. It was not until I heard her opening the clothes press that I realized the danger and ran to the bedroom, but I was too late. She was on her knees in front of the press, the gold dress in her hands, and the face she turned to me was quite immobile with horror. She clearly understood the significance of what she had found, and indeed how could she not? The rips might be explained another way, but the stains are quite unmistakable.

‘Mademoiselle,’ she whispered to me. ‘Oh, Mademoiselle, why didn’t you tell me?’

I had to explain, for fear she would think it was me. In a way I was glad to, for she put her arms round me and gave me a hug such as I have not had in years, not since Mama died. I’m afraid I think I cried a little too. That is very weak of me, I know, but I have been so lonely.

Perhaps it was not so very dreadful. At least I know the secret is safe with Jeanette. She has promised not to tell anybody, she swore it by the Blessed Saints.

Jacques Gilbert

Jean-Marie broke every rule we’d got by bringing her to the Hermitage but I didn’t give a stuff when I heard what she’d got to say, I was just worried about the boy. He said he was all right, he just wanted to be by himself, but when I heard him galloping off on Tempête, I knew we were in for trouble. This was his own private nightmare come back, and I knew he couldn’t bear it a second time. I threw a saddle on Tonnerre and went straight after him.

He was up the tree overlooking the Château grounds, his eyes fixed on that first-floor window like he could see straight into it. He didn’t even turn when I climbed up, he waited till I was right behind him, then just glanced round briefly before going back to staring at the window. It was dark by then, and all we could see was the faint flickering light that meant candles lit inside.

He said ‘She’s in there. She’s in there going through God knows what, and I can’t get to her.’

I reached out and touched his shoulder. ‘Let’s go back and talk about it. We’re not doing any good out here.’

He shook his head. ‘If there’s trouble, I’m going in.’

‘The patroller will have you as soon as you clear the trees.’

He smiled grimly. ‘He won’t.’

‘You can’t get in.’

‘I’ll force a window.’

‘The guards will hear, you’ll be killed. Who’s going to help, her then?’

He stared at me, but then there was a loud clatter, and we saw the big window on the ground floor had been thrown open. A great gust of male laughter drifted out, and somewhere in the middle was a girl’s voice, raised in a kind of squeal.

The boy moved in the same second, hurling himself forward on the branch to leap over the wall. I grabbed his leg and pulled back hard, but he smashed his boot right at me and I had to let go and snatch his belt instead. He was struggling and kicking, there were leaves scattering everywhere, but I dragged him near enough to get hold of his arms and thrust him down the tree on our side. I jumped down after him, but he was already scrambling to his feet, and I had to grip him by the shoulders and shove him hard against the trunk; it was all I could do.

We heard the men laughing again, and then the girl’s voice sounded in another squeal, but this time very high-pitched, and ended in gurgling laughter.

I said ‘It’s not her. For Christ’s sake, André, it’s not her.’

He struggled weakly for a second, then went still and listened. The girl laughed again, and this time I knew he heard it. I stepped back and let go of him, but he didn’t move, he just stayed stuck up against that tree and staring at me.

‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘You’re bigger than me and you’ve stopped me. What are you going to do next time? Go all the way?’ His hand patted his sword.

‘Never,’ I said in disbelief. ‘Never, you know that.’

‘Do I?’ he said tiredly. ‘If you don’t, you won’t stop me.’

He looked so wretched I wanted just to scrape him off that tree and hug him, but he wasn’t a little boy any more and he meant every word he said. We stared at each other with two feet of space between us that was suddenly like a mile.

The girl’s laughter rang out again, nearer and shockingly loud in the night air. It sounded mocking and horrible. Then there came a single man’s laugh, low and intimate, and suddenly my brain cleared.

I said ‘André, it’s a prostitute.’

‘I know,’ he said dismissively. ‘But next time …’

I was already reaching for the first branch of the tree. I said ‘That’s the men’s mess, they’ve got a whore in there. How?’

I was swinging myself up, and he was only a second behind me. We wriggled up so fast it’s a miracle the patroller didn’t hear the rustling. Then we were back in position and looking over, and we were only just in time.

Other books

Just Like a Musical by Veen, Milena
El enigma del cuatro by Dustin Thomason Ian Caldwell
La chica del tiempo by Isabel Wolff
Dance of Ghosts by Brooks, Kevin
My Father's Dragon by Ruth Stiles Gannett
The Memory of Us: A Novel by Camille Di Maio
Ardor's Leveche by Charlotte Boyett-Compo
The IT Guy by Wynter St. Vincent