La Flamme (Historical Romance) (12 page)

"That will not be permitted. His majesty wants you to leave London tonight, drawing as little attention to yourself as possible."

Garreth had always revered his king, but now he was disillusioned. He looked about the room that had been his prison for so many weeks. "I leave with no regret. I have been imprisoned here without being allowed a voice to defend myself."

"You are feeling embittered, and I cannot blame you."

"May I see the king?"

"Not at this time, I'm afraid."

"So, I have become an embarrassment to him."

"You must not think—"

"Where is my mother? I am eager to leave London; there is a stench coming all the way from St. James Palace."

The archbishop offered his hand to Garreth, but the duke ignored the gesture so he let it drop to his side. "Her grace is waiting for you in a boat outside the Tower gate."

Garreth picked up his cape and flung it about his shoulders. "It will be a long time before I return to London."

"I would feel much the same as you, Your Grace. These are troubled times, and one does not always know where to look for one's enemies."

"Or one's friends. Those who have come to me under the guise of friendship have turned away when my need was the greatest. Will you give his majesty my . . . regards."

The archbishop looked away. "Go with God and with my blessing."

13

Sabine stood on the rolling deck of the ship that would take them the short distance across the Strait of Dover to Calais. She glanced down at her simple blue woolen gown and reached up to adjust the peasant scarf that covered her red hair, hoping no one would recognize her in this disguise.

Her eyes lingered on the mammoth chalk hills until they began to fade in the distance. A sudden ache of homesickness struck her, and she reached out, taking Richard from Marie. She watched England disappear in an eerie fog, wondering how long it would be before they returned.

Marie saw Sabine's forlorn expression and wanted to cheer her. She touched Richard's curly head. "I find joy in watching this child grow. The two of you will always be welcome with us."

"Thank you, Madame. We will try not to be a burden, and I will help in any way I can."

Marie watched Sabine closely as she spoke. "Jacques' genius is in knowing how to make the people laugh, and what will make them cry. His burden has been that he has never had an actress who could do equity to his direction."

"Tis a pity, Madame."

Marie's eyes glittered. "I have seen him keep an audience enthralled for five acts, and have them pleading for more. Those little plays he staged in England did not show his true ability."

"I found it amusing to act in his plays, although I do not know how long I could have been convincing as a lad."

Marie leaned on the railing, watching as fog engulfed the ship. "Would you consider acting for my husband when we reach France?" she asked. "You took direction well enough and delivered in a clear voice. You speak French like one born to my country. What a great actress you will become, with Jacques and I to guide you! You will do this for us,
non
?"

"I would do that gladly, Madame, as long as I am able. But once we reach France, and I inform my uncle what happened to Richard and myself, he is certain to send for us."

Marie clasped her hands gratefully. "This is as it should be. But it will take time to exchange letters, non? Jacques has agreed to give a performance at the
La Monde
in Calais tomorrow night. The landlord saw a performance in Dover and was most excited when he learned that we were returning to France. He begs us to perform for him—is that not wonderful?"

"It is indeed," Sabine replied, happy for the de Bail-lards' good fortune.

"I go now to tell Jacques that you remain with us in Calais. Until," she said, smiling, "you go to your uncle."

"Madame, you understand that if I do this, I must perform as a boy, lest someone recognize me."

"Yes, that is understood."

Sabine watched Marie hurry across the deck. She was glad to have the chance to repay the kindness to the de Baillards for all they had done for her and Richard. She looked down at her brother, who had been listening to her conversation with Marie.

"Sabine, why do you want to act like a boy—you are only a girl."

She smiled at him. "Only a girl, am I—well you are only a small boy."

He nodded. "But everyone knows I am a boy. They do not always know that you are a girl."

She had to smile at his shrewdness. "Richard, when we reach France, I am going to ask you to help me become a deceiver. I want you to speak only French. You know the language very well, so don't pretend otherwise."

With a small boy's reasoning, Richard looked at her stubbornly. "Why do we have to speak French—we're English?"

She could understand his confusion. "Never forget who you are, Richard. But we are going to play a game. Would you like that?"

His eyes brightened. "I like games. What shall we play?"

"We are going to see how long we can fool others into believing that we are French. The first one to fail forfeits the game."

His eyes gleamed with the challenge. "I will not lose, you will, Sabine."

"There is more to the game than just speaking French,

Richard. We must change our names because we cannot play a French game with English names. What would you like to be called?"

He set his chin stubbornly, reminding her of their father. "I shall not play if I must change my name."

She relented, placing him on his feet and smiling.

"Very well, but I shall change mine. You must help me

keep my name a secret. When others are about, I will be

known as Antoine de Chavaniac, and you will be my

brother."              |

Richard shook his head and tears gathered in his eyes. "I want to go home."

"Richard," she said, hugging him tightly, "I have told you before that we cannot go home yet a while. It is very important that you understand this and do as I ask."

He wiped his tears with a chubby little hand. "I will, Sabine, but I won't like it."

She led him to a protected part of the deck, away from the chilling wind. For now it was her and Richard against unknown and faceless enemies. Garreth Blackthorn was a dangerous adversary, and if he suspected they were in France, he would surely send someone after them, or come for them himself.

Cortland Blackthorn smiled bitterly as he walked between the two guards who escorted him down a dark, narrow passage to his execution. He had no fear of death. He wished he could think clearly, but his mind was a dark, swirling wasteland. He wanted to feel emotions so he could take his hatred for Garreth with him to his death—he wanted it to be his last conscious thought. He'd prayed that Garreth would come today so he could taunt him as a last triumph. But Garreth had not even acknowledged him, and that was the final insult.

In all this, Cortland did have one thread of satisfaction, because, no matter how his tormenters had questioned and tortured him to make him tell who had been his accomplice, he had not told them about Eugenia Meredith. She must have known terror when he had been arrested, fearing he would name her as a companion in his conspiracy. He wondered what she thought when she learned that he had gone against their agreement and implicated Garreth in the crimes.

He gnashed his teeth. Of course, Garreth had walked free, but his name was tarnished nonetheless. Cortland's eyes gleamed. There would be many who would believe that Garreth had plotted the attack on Woodbridge and that he, Cortland, was the innocent sacrifice to save the family honor.

As the guards led him into a secluded courtyard, he looked up at the sky, thinking it would rain later in the day, but he would not see it. His execution was to be private, with only the four guards and an executioner in attendance. In this, the last moments of his life, he was still of no consequence—it was a fitting end, he thought.

When they reached Calais, Sabine immediately sent word to her uncle informing him that she and Richard were in France and wished to visit him. Weeks passed and still she waited for a reply. It was the day of their last performance in Calais when Sabine finally received a letter, but it was not from her uncle; instead it was from someone representing him. With sadness, she read the letter to Marie and Ysabel.

"Madame, on behalf of the marquis de Chavaniac, I send you a warning not to press your claims further. The marquis is very aware that his niece and nephew met a tragic end. If you persist in identifying yourself as Sabine Woodbridge Blackthorn, you will be punished severely."

There was a long moment of silence. Then Sabine looked at Marie and Ysabel for guidance. "What shall I do?"

"The man is a fool," Marie stated flatly. "You will stay with us, of course. We soon leave Calais and play in the Provinces until we have perfected our act. Only when we are ready, will we go to Paris. There, others besides me will acknowledge my husband's genius and your great talent."

Sabine gripped the letter in her hand. "Since my uncle will not believe me, Richard has no one to champion his cause."

Ysabel, always wise, commented forcefully. "One does not need a champion when one has friends. You will remain with us until you are ready to return to England. Justice will be yours in the end."

So it was that Sabine took the name of Antoine de Chavaniac as her own. Even when not performing, she wore the attire of a young boy, to hide her identity.

Jacques brought two more actors and an actress into the troupe as they gained in reputation. However, the new members knew Sabine only as Antoine de Chavaniac, and they thought it strange that the young Antoine was so reclusive. Sabine and Richard now had their own wagon, and when she wasn't onstage, she spent her time with her brother.

As Marie had predicted, the de Baillard Players traveled the Provinces, acting in small towns and villages. Sometimes they stayed only one night, and other times they performed for a week or more.

Out of concern that Richard was growing up without direction, each day Sabine would instruct him in manners and courtly etiquette. Like most small boys, he rebelled against the refinements, preferring to run wild and free. At night, by lantern light, she began to teach him to read. She found that he had a quick mind and hungered for knowledge.

The de Baillard Players slowly began to obtain the recognition Marie felt they deserved. They received so many requests to perform that Jacques had to refuse many of them. At first, they played only the small villages, and then larger towns welcomed them as well. The crowds grew larger and a particular favorite with them was a young man of personable manner, known as Antoine de Chavaniac.

1633

It was a lovely spring morning as Sabine left her wagon to join Jacques and Marie beneath a gnarled oak tree. Jacques had written a new play that he wanted her to read. Sabine could see by the expressions on their faces that something was amiss. Marie motioned her forward while Jacques hung back allowing them privacy.

"I have something that I must say to you, Sabine," Marie told her. "I do not know how you will feel about it—but it must be said."

Sabine searched Marie's eyes. "I have done something to displease you?"

"
Non, non
," Marie hastened to assure her. "It is nothing like that."

"Then what? Tell me."

Marie lowered her voice. "Are you not aware that your body has changed?"

Sabine had noticed that her hips had rounded and her breasts were fuller, forcing her to bind herself each morning before she dressed. She nodded in embarrassment. "
Oui,
Madame."

"Jacques has written a magnificent new play that will need the talents of a beautiful woman," Marie said firmly. "This morning he dismissed the other players. It was difficult for him to do so, but he did it for you."

Sabine was confused. "You sent them away because of me? I do not understand."

Marie was silent for a moment, as if contemplating how to proceed. "Jacques and I have decided that you can no longer play a convincing boy."

Sabine felt heavy disappointment. "Oh. I suppose if you are bringing in a new female lead, you will need an actor to replace me."

Marie shook her head, her bright yellow curls bobbing about her face. "This is a happy day for us and you must be happy with us. Jacques want you for his luminary!"

Sabine thought she must have misunderstood. "Are you certain that you want me for such an important role?"

Jacques joined them, a wide grin on his face. "We will have no one but
you
, Sabine. We have been offered the Escredil Theater in Paris. It is not a large theater, but very respectable. It is what we have been waiting for."

Sabine could hardly contain her joy. "Oh, Jacques, Marie, how wonderful for you." Then her face fell. "But I cannot be your star—one must be very beautiful to be the female luminary in Paris."

Jacques and Marie looked at each other and laughed. "Sabine, why do you think you can no longer pretend to be a boy? Have you not looked at yourself lately?" Marie asked.

"I.. . no." Her eyes widened. "What are you saying? Do you think I am pretty?"

"Are you pretty?" Marie asked, turning to her husband. "You have kept her dressed as a lad too long. She does not know how she looks." Then she turned back to Sabine. "Wait until Paris sees you. The gentlemen will lay wreaths at your feet."

Suddenly Sabine's face froze. "I cannot go to Paris. Someone might recognize me."

Jacques took her hand in a fatherly manner. "Do you still believe you are in danger?"

"Yes, I do. Garreth Blackthorn would not give up so easily."

He rubbed his forehead in thoughtfulness. "You have changed much since we first found you. 1 do not believe anyone will recognize you. The reason I dismissed the other players was so they would not witness your transformation to a woman."

Marie nodded. "Sabine, in the time you have been with us, your appearance has altered from that of a young girl to a woman. Your hair is a deeper red than it was then. At first you were slender and pale—now there is color in your cheeks and you are very beautiful." Marie spoke admiringly. "I have never seen hair like yours. The lights of the Paris stage will make it appear to be on fire."