sirenssong_132-Xe3.htm

by Siren's Song (lit)

  "So," Jamie taunted. "I see you have met my Joan of Arc and it appears she has done battle with you and won. Yet, you deserve so much more, but you shall receive your just reward in hell."

  John Pierre gasped then grabbed his chest. He sounded astonished, "I have been defeated, revenge is lost, and everything I have worked for is gone. It was to have been so perfect. I have been thwarted by a coward, and you, my own sweet Genevieve!" He coughed, and his eyes opened wide.

  "He is dead," Philippe stood clinging to the doorjamb, looking down at John Pierre’s lifeless body, the pistol he held clattered to the ground.

  Jamie pulled Nicolette to her feet. She stood perfectly still, yet shook so violently that he wondered how she could stand. Her face was stark white, and her gaze was glued to the man on the floor, "Sweetheart, Philippe only did what I should have done."

  Nicolette began to sob.

  Jamie wiped away her tears with the tip of his finger. "Philippe saved my life, both our lives."

  "I know, I know!" Nicolette threw herself into his arms, and Jamie gently guided her down the steps.

  Marie stood over Gourville, "He was so strange, obviously a nobleman, yet he acted as though he were John Pierre’s personal servant. In his way he tried to be kind, but he would not help me escape."

  "Aye," Jamie nodded. "John Pierre forced him to be his lackey. He knew something terrible about him, something he did not wish to bring harm to his family."

  Philippe surprised them, "We know why he did it, do we not Nicolette? I think he regretted what happened, perhaps from the beginning. I wonder how many other lives John Pierre ruined."

  Nicolette gazed into deep blue pools of curiosity, and shook her head, silently begging Jamie for his understanding.

  "We must leave," Jamie’s quiet voice seemed to bring them back to reality. He glanced at Nicolette. "I see you have changed, and what is that?"

  "I knew you would vanquish Gourville so I changed to my riding habit. I would not leave as I was, unless I had no choice. As to these," she held up her pillowcase, "Tis’ something I could not leave to be discovered by another." She pointed to John Pierre’s chest, "Jamie, my grandmothers dagger, it saved my life. Could you retrieve, please?"

  He shook his head with wonder at her strange request, then retrieved the dagger, wiped it on John Pierre’s waistcoat, and tucked it into his belt. He picked up the unused pistol and handed it back to Philippe.

  Philippe once more stood with his back against the foyer door jamb with a pistol in his hand. He weakly looked up, "I had nearly given up on you, MacQueen. I was going after her myself."

  Jamie laughed, "Not enough strength to save yourself yet you were going to rescue Nicolette? You are not what I expected, and I beg forgiveness for my earlier misgivings."

  "No, Monsieur. It is I who must apologize. My behavior was despicable. I was lost to everything but the desire for revenge, but my soul is not entirely black. Laurent has told me the truth all these years, and I fear I was completely dimwitted, I did not listen. John Pierre destroyed my sister. Once I knew the truth I realized I could not allow him to ruin Nicolette as well." Philippe coughed and grabbed his abdomen. "I have been very wrong. I had to make amends, for Madeleine’s sake, as well as my own."

  Nicolette smiled, "Thank you Philippe. How did you survive? John Pierre shot you, I saw it with my own eyes!"

  Philippe nodded, "Indeed, even I thought I was going to die. I saw all the blood, then the blackness came. I awoke in a pile of garbage. It was this that saved my life." He pulled a watch from his waistcoat, now misshapen and bent. "See, this is what changed the bullet’s path to my heart. It was Madeleine’s last present to me."

  "She must have been watching over you Philippe. Thank God," Nicolette’s eyes filled with tears. Then she looked at Jamie, and her emerald eyes sparkled, "How did you escape? Where is Laurent?"

  "I was never taken to the Bastille," he grinned when he saw her confusion.

  "But I saw the papers myself!" Philippe couldn’t hide his surprise.

  "Alec is with Laurent. They mistakenly took him. It’s a long story, and it can wait."

  Jamie smiled at the look of confusion he saw cross Nicolette’s features, "Darling Goddess, I must leave for the Bastille and find a way to help Laurent and Alec escape. Philippe can take you to Lafayette’s for protection."

  Nicolette grabbed his arm, "Wait! I know of something that will help in Laurent’s rescue. Perhaps we can use it to our advantage."

  Nicolette went into the dining room and threw the pillowcase into the fireplace, then stood for a moment watching until it became engulfed in flames. She found the papers and inkwell on the table where they had been left earlier, dipped the quill into the ink then wrote a few lines.

  When she walked back into the room, Philippe had placed the sword he had used near John Pierre’s hand, and the pistol near Gourville.

  "I thought it best if no one questioned how they died. There is no one in the house. The last two servants left as I was waking from my injury. There will be no other evidence."

  Philippe limped toward the door, "Shall we?"

  Jamie picked up Gourville’s ruby studded rapier, retrieved his claymore, and tucked them both into his belt, then picked up his black cape and wrapped it around Nicolette.

  Philippe took Gourville’s cape from the table and tried to do the same for Marie but she shook her head, "Sir, you should wear this, it may hide the blood."

  Nicolette handed Jamie the order.

  "What is that?" Philippe asked, as he grasped his abdomen and leaned against the door.

  "It is another order signed by the King. Uncle intended it for you Philippe, but now it will save Laurent and Alec."

  Jamie smiled, "It’s worth a try, still we had better have another plan just in case we have a problem."

  Nicolette pulled her mother’s jewels from her pockets, "I am taking back my mother’s treasures, the ones John Pierre stole. These should do, if the Kings letter fails."

  ~ * ~

  Philippe rode alone, Nicolette and Marie rode Gourville’s stallion, and Jamie rode his Arabian. As they neared the Bastille, and Jamie took their measure, "What a ragtag band we are."

  His black cloak covered Nicolette. Marie rode behind her grasping Nicolette around the waist with a fierceness that made Jamie smile. He held the reins of Philippe’s horse, as Philippe leaned over the neck of the mare. Gourville’s cape covered the dark red stains on his breeches.

  Finally, Jamie looked down at his kilt, a lone Highlander in Paris. It would certainly make for interesting gossip when John Pierre’s body was found. He began to formulate a plan. Even a letter from the King would not be accepted from them considering their appearance.

  Philippe took a deep breath, "There in the distance, do you see it? We are near."

  "Aye. And a more pathetic looking rescue I have never seen," he laughed. "Even the guards will not believe that they are to release their prisoner’s to a wounded nobleman covered with blood, two woman, or a highlander in a kilt."

  Philippe nodded, "Indeed, so what do you propose?"

  "I need a uniform, something that will lend a little authority to the request. Any suggestions?"

  Philippe smiled, "I may have just the thing. There is a tavern near here frequented by the King’s guard. Perhaps we can find something useful there."

  Philippe led them to a side road, and soon they were in an alleyway, a short way from the tavern.

  "Look there, the man just now leaving alone. I can take care of this," Jamie rushed toward him. He returned a short while later with a uniform draped over his arm, then stood behind Philippe’s horse to change.

  Nicolette smiled when she saw the result.

  "Do not laugh, little vixen," he said as he struggled to button the jacket. Then he laughed to himself when he could barely lift his arm, "I hope this uniform will hold for an hour at least." Jamie stepped out from behind the horses. "So what do you think, Philippe? Will I do?"

&nb
sp; Philippe smiled, "Barely. Let’s just hope we get them out before that uniform bursts! You did pick a good one, it is from the Queen’s own guard. We should do well."

  "Aye, well let’s get to it before daylight." Jamie leapt into the saddle, and they rode on. "There should be a changing of the guard soon. If there is a favorable time to secure Laurent and Alec’s release, it is now."

  As they arrived at the Bastille, Jamie noted a small alcove between the fortress and the guards living quarters. "The perfect place to stop," Jamie dismounted.

  "Philippe, Rauol went to Lafayette for help. If he does not arrive and if I do not return before light, you must take Nicolette and Marie to Lafayette’s home. He will help them get to a ship sailing for the Highlands. Do not fail me!"

  Philippe nodded. "I will see to it."

  "Jamie, I cannot allow you go alone!" Nicolette started to dismount.

  "No Goddess, this time you must do exactly as I say, but I must borrow the cape to cover the flaws in this uniform. Do you not see that we have little choice? Wait here in this alcove with the horses."

  Jamie held Nicolette’s hand and gazed into her eyes, "If anything should happen to me, take my people to America. Promise me that, and remember I will love you for all eternity." He pulled her from the horse and kissed her as if it were meant to last a lifetime.

  Tears began to flow as Nicolette clung to him. Jamie pried her fingers away, and pushed her into Marie’s waiting arms.

  "It will be all right. Nothing will happen," he promised.

  Jamie marched to the gate, and Philippe went with him standing slightly behind to hide his condition. The gatekeeper recognized the educated tones of a nobleman, accompanied by one of the Queens guards and immediately took the order without question. They waited at the gate, and soon the gatekeeper returned.

  "The men are being questioned now, Captain. You must wait."

  "We have an order from the King, and you expect us to tarry?" Philippe’s high voice was that of a highly incensed nobleman, filled with indignity.

  Jamie nearly laughed at Philippe’s exalted tone, "What is your name and rank, I shall report this immediately!"

  The gatekeeper clearly blanched. "No, please you must not do such a thing."

  "He is an officer of the Queen’s guard, how dare you treat the man like this? This insult will not go unpunished!"

  "Please, Sir, I beg of you do not report me."

  "Take us to the prisoners immediately, then we shall see," Jamie roared, and the man rushed toward the door.

  Philippe whispered. "I must leave you now, I am barely able to stand."

  "Nicolette must be protected. You must leave at the first sign of trouble, or if you hear nothing more, wait only twenty minutes then take her to Lafayette and safety."

  Jamie followed the gatekeeper, noting the emptiness. There were very few prisoners in the famed old fortress.

  "Here, they are in this cell."

  "There is no one here but the prisoners?"

  "We passed the man." The gatekeeper pointed down the empty hallway.

  Jamie thought of the shadowy figures they had passed, "Open the door, the King wants the Marquis released immediately."

  Laurent had a filthy rag tied abound his head. He stood, but when he turned to help with Alec, Jamie gasped. Laurent’s back had been cut to ribbons by a whip.

  Laurent glanced back and gave him a weak smile, "I knew you would come for me. Have you found Nicolette?"

  "Aye, she is safe," Jamie turned and rushed toward Alec. His face was white as death, and a dirty rag was stuffed into a hole in his abdomen. He didn’t respond to Jamie’s voice.

  Jamie motioned to the gatekeeper, "Come help me. The King will be displeased when he sees the condition of the Marquis and his friend."

  "Please Sir, I beg of you, this was no fault of mine, they arrived in this condition, and with a Lettre de Cache signed by the King. We were told nothing, and they were treated no different than any other prisoner. I had no way of knowing it was a mistake."

  Jamie lost his temper, "Close your mouth man, or I will close it for you." He turned, "Laurent can you walk alone?"

  "I would crawl if need be, lead on."

  Jamie took the full weight of Alec on his shoulders, holding his arm behind his neck with one hand, and his arm around his waist with the other. Soon the outer gate of the Bastille slammed shut behind them, ringing across the courtyard and relief flowed through Jamie at the sound.

  "What happened?" Jamie glanced at his friend.

  Laurent was silent a moment, "I was questioned."

  Jamie waited, "What did they want?"

  "They wanted you."

  "Me?" Jamie felt the shock register throughout his body. "Why would the guards want me? More to the point, who would want me?"

  "I am afraid it was a phantom from our past, but first, I must know. How is Nicolette?"

  "She is unharmed," Jamie sighed. "John Pierre lost the battle, that is all that matters."

  Laurent smiled, "Nicolette is all I could think of, I prayed nearly every minute you would find her."

  Jamie eyes reflected his question, "A phantom. What did you mean by that?"

  "A ghost with a penchant for the whip," Laurent sighed. "It isn’t over my friend."

  Nineteen

  Shards of memories like broken glass assailed him. Brief glimpses of past moments flitted across his mind as the impact of Laurent’s words permeated deep within his soul. "It’s not over," Jamie whispered.

  Agonizing indecision tormented him. He wanted nothing more than to turn and search for the man who haunted his dreams, yet he realized he could not follow his quest. He glanced at Laurent, his shirt clinging in bloody ribbons where the whip had shredded his back, then to Alec who remained unconscious and helpless. His jaw clinched; there was no choice. First, he would take care of his friends, then he would go in search of revenge.

  "Come, Alec grows heavy. Do you feel well enough to go ahead and bring back the horses? Nicolette, Philippe, and Marie await us in the alcove just beyond the turn."

  "Philippe?"

  "Aye, Philippe. It’s a long story, and one we’ll discuss over brandy later."

  "Mon Dieu, I am gone only a few days and you make friends with the enemy!" Laurent’s angry voice echoed as he walked away.

  "Aye, he’s the enemy who saved my life, and do not be upset when you see Nicolette. She has a few bruises, but she made John Pierre pay dearly for them." Jamie staggered forward a few steps, "Alec, you are as heavy as a horse!" He stopped and lowered his cousin, readjusted his hold, then once more started toward the alcove.

  "Halt! By what right do you take that prisoner?"

  "God’s teeth," he whispered. "What else can happen to us?" Jamie turned awkwardly. "I may never get you out of here, Alec."

  He stood stock-still, gazing at the phantom that haunted his dreams. "Forester?" he whispered. Had his mind run mad? He shook his head. No, the nightmare had become flesh, and stood before him.

  The red of Forester’s uniform, a brilliant contrast to the stark black of his cape, confirmed the reality of the moment. His dark hair fell in a queue beneath a tricorn hat. His cloak billowed about him in the early morning breeze. He stood rigidly straight, almost as a statue. Now, just as the first time they had met in the meadow, there were four other Englishmen surrounding him.

  A shudder of pure excitement raced over him as he realized that this moment had been inevitable. From their first encounter in the meadow, his life had been altered forever, and now irrevocably, it would change again. The only remaining question was the final outcome.

  Forester looked exactly as he had in the barn. His body had the same youthful appearance, slender as a reed, but his face was that of a man ravaged by high living, with swollen eyes, and deep lines furrowed across his brow and below his mouth. His hand rested nonchalantly on the ornate handle of his sword. He suddenly smiled, "MacQueen!"

  "It’s not over," Jamie’s shout echoed across the cou
rtyard.

  Forester laughed, the evil sound ringing out loudly, "No, but it will be soon. I have been looking for you. In fact, I was questioning the Marquis only a few moments past, but he was not very cooperative. By the way, where is the he?"

  Forester looked around, "You have the Scot from the cell, but the Marquis is not here. Decidedly odd, for I would not wish him to escape my wrath, but it is of no consequence. I will attend to him later," Forester shrugged. "I understood you were dead and buried, but you look fairly healthy to me! I believed that story years ago, but if you must know the truth, it is such a relief to learn you lived. I have regretted the barn. Indeed, leaving you to die alone was a terrible mistake. I hoped to watch your demise, every moment of it, but that damned friend of yours interfered."

  Jamie’s brow rose, "Aye. I was nearly dead, my reward for leaving you alive after the battle in the meadow."

  Forester limped forward, taking his hat off and throwing it into the air as he walked, "You call this alive?" His hand swept downward as his lame foot pointed to the ground in a parody of an elaborate bow. "You think this is something to celebrate? I think not."

  "At least I left you with your life," Jamie bellowed.

  "Just so. Unfortunately it was not my life that I wanted. It was yours," he unfastened his cape, and threw it from his shoulders. It fluttered then fell in a heap to the cobblestones. His hand moved to the hilt of his sword once more, "And finally, I will have that, pitiful as it is."

  The unmistakable sound of cold steel rubbing against steal made his senses come alive, as Forester’s companion, the man with white hair, slowly drew his sword,

  A shiver ran down Jamie’s spine with anticipation of their final encounter, deep seeded fury grew within him, the molten heat charging him with keen awareness. He took a deep breath of fresh, cool morning air. This was the moment he had waited for all his life, and excitement to get the thing accomplished washed over him like the icy cold water of a swim in the Loch.