Maybe…
My stomach twisted in nervousness as I dragged it back to a partially hidden home that looked abandoned. Waiting cautiously until the area was deserted, I scurried up the ladder. When I got to the top of the house, I turned around, hoping that Mr. Becker would mysteriously show up the same way he did last time. Maybe he could feel when I was about to do something dangerous or reckless. The street was still as empty as ever.
I cautiously put my foot over the ladder and stepped onto the roof. It groaned under my weight. I turned around and faced the edge of the roof and looked over. My stomach dropped and I sat quickly on the edge. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe evenly. Eventually, I opened my eyes and looked up the street. Still nothing.
Rejected, I leaned back onto the roof and tried to collect my thoughts. I looked up at the sky and talked to Mr. Becker.
“You said you would come…” I trailed off. What was the point of this? I sat up again and then stood up to go back down the ladder. My foot fell through the roof and I leaned down to catch myself before I fell through completely.
What a ridiculous nightmare.
I tried pulling my foot back up and raked it against the brittle straw, causing it to bleed. I sighed and yanked it out, which caused me to teeter over the side of the roof. Before I lost my balance completely, I leaned over and grabbed the roof by the hole I had just made.
Then, I laughed. I was sure I looked completely ridiculous.
I climbed back down the ladder and wandered back through the streets, still keeping my eyes out for Mr. Becker. I looked up at the sky, hoping for a sign of rain. It was sunny and clear. I began to worry that he would not come for us and the lines in my face furrowed with renewed anxiety that we would never return home.
❦
Several days after Mr. Becker showed up, Jacques, Isabelle and I were in the house. Pierre and Jean were finishing up with the sheep, and Jehanette, Catherine, Ailey and Isolda were off in the town market looking for new cloth. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. It was bold and demanding. It was a stranger.
My instincts were instantly alert. I knew that knock was meant for me. I stood up but Jacques motioned for me to sit back down. I tried to protest but he shushed me and then limped toward the door.
As soon as he opened it, we heard a loud voice demand, “To whom does this house belong.”
Jacques was taken back. In the gap of the doorway, I could see a group of about six men at the door. I immediately felt uneasy. These men were dressed very similarly to the men in my dream. The one where I was killed.
I stood up and cautiously crept closer to hear what was going on, fear knotting in my stomach.
“To who does this house belong?” the man repeated. “We need an accounting for the members of this household.”
Jacques remained defiantly speechless. I could see the gears shifting in his head. He was determining the real purpose of these men, what information to divulge, and the cost of a lie.
“Did I stutter, man?” the man raged. “Speak and speak swiftly.”
“It is only my family,” Jacques finally replied.
“And the name of your family and its members,” the man demanded.
“I go by d’Arc.” D’Arc. D’Arc. Jacques d’Arc. My mind mulled over this new information. It was so familiar. For some reason, my brain felt numb over what was probably an easy question.
“And the first names?”
“My name is Jacques. And my wife is Isabelle.”
“Children?”
“My sons, Jean and Pierre. I also have two daughters, Jehanette and Catherine.”
One of the men mumbled something that I couldn’t hear, which evoked conversation among all the men. Finally, the first man asked, “Is there anyone else living in this household?” At this Jacques was silent. I stood absolutely still. I knew this was important.
“If you will not tell us, we will enter your house and see for ourselves.”
Jacques shifted unconsciously to block the entrance to the door. I was surprised at their assertion but then I realized they didn’t have any fourth amendment rights in France yet. Or anywhere for that matter.
Understanding the consequences a search might have on his family, I made up my mind.
“Jacques,” I said quietly. He jumped but did not look at me.
“Jacques, it’s okay,” I said. Jacques determinedly did not look at me but still stood silent at the door.
“Well, sir? Tell us now or we shall enter your home.”
I stepped behind him so that they could see me.
“Yes, he has taken in a few people who lost their homes from the Burgundians.” At this Jacques winced and looked down. “We are here temporarily until we can make it out on our own.”
The man looked at me speculatively. Finally he said, “I do not recognize you.” At this, my stomach dropped to the floor.
Of course, these are the Burgundese.
I stood my ground and looked him in the eyes, although I could feel my hands shaking at my side.
“And, pray, what is your name?”
“Michael.”
“Michael?” he asked.
“Yes.” He looked me up and down.
“Do you go by any other name?” he asked.
“No,” I answered immediately but my Adam’s apple caught in my throat as I responded. I never was very good at lying.
“You said there were a few of you?” he asked.
“Yes, Margaret and Catherine.”
He nodded like this information did not trouble him. “Where are you from?”
My mind raced to come up with the name that I’d given the priest. In that moment, I realized that Jacques had never asked me where we were from.
“Trouville,” I said. This time I spoke the lie more confidently. I would need to sell this one.
“Trouville?” the man asked. He looked at his companion next to him. He shrugged in return. Relief poured through me. They were silent for a moment and then the man turned to leave.
Jacques moved to shut the door, but the man turned at the last moment. “You don’t look very French, you know.”
Man, if he only knew the truth.
I shrugged. “My mom was English,” I said. At least, that part was kind of true. He nodded thoughtfully and Jacques slammed the door.
❦
We stood there, staring silently into each other’s eyes. Jacques looked troubled and thoughtful. I was pretty sure that I looked scared.
“I’m not sure exactly who you are or where you come from,” he said to me, “and now, I think that I don’t want to know.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “But from now on, we must be very careful.”
I nodded silently and he walked away.
❦
That night I brooded over the soldiers’ visit. I sat alone by our tree.
Mr. Becker made it very clear that we were not to leave Jacques’ house. However, now I felt like if we stayed any longer, that we might actually become a danger to them.
I did not want this.
But I wasn’t sure what else to do. Or, rather, where else to go. They had taken us in like family. Even though we had not been here very long, I felt very close to them.
Keeping them safe was probably an even stronger reason to leave. But why would anyone be looking for us? I had no doubts that these soldiers were looking for me. I did not want to put Jacques and his family in the middle of whatever thing Mr. Becker was caught up in. Mr. Becker still hadn’t shown up like he promised, and if we left now, he would probably have a hard time finding us again.
For whatever reason he felt that we were safe here. Well, that might be all fine and dandy for us, but what about Jacques, Isabelle and their family? Would I bring these soldiers, or worse, someone like Azaz to their house? I shivered at the thought.
I suddenly felt the urge to run to the house, pack everything up and leave.
But quietly. Maybe, if I left Isolda and Ailey here, then they would be
safe, too. Maybe I could leave in the middle of the night and try to find a place nearby. Where I would be close enough if Mr. Becker came back but hidden if the soldiers came back for me.
My mind churned over this thought. Where would I go? We were lucky; we’d been saved by the family. I had not bothered to wander any further. Even if I slept in the woods, it would be better than bringing hell to this family and Isolda and Ailey.
I put my head in my hands and closed my eyes. Ailey’s face formed in my mind. She smiled at me and her eyes comforted me. Since arriving in France, our connection remained strong. Somehow, being away from high school and all the things that that entailed made our relationship so much simpler.
I sighed. Isolda. She was so… extraordinary. No matter our predicament, every part of me felt completely happy with her by my side.
Even though we were very close now, I could tell that she still hid a part of herself from me, especially in moments when she didn’t realize I was watching her. Sometimes she stared off, her mind a million miles away. When we arrived she had taken off her rings, but her fingers still sought them out to turn them around and around like she did when she was deeply concentrated.
I wished she would open up to me. There was a subtle chasm between us that I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to cross. I needed a bridge somehow but I was stumped how to build it.
My thoughts returned to my problem. What if they found me in the woods and took me somewhere and tortured me? I had no idea what kind of people they were, but if they were anything like Azaz, I definitely didn’t want them to find me. Or, what if they even killed me and Ailey and Isolda were stuck here forever without toilet paper? Surely, Mr. Becker would find a way to bring them home, right?
I didn’t know. Frustrated, I stood up and a rock into the stream.
“You need to work on your throw.”
I jumped. I turned to see Ailey standing behind me. How am I so easy to sneak up on?
“Oh hey, Ailey. I didn’t see you.”
“You’ve got a lot on you mind, I see,” she stated.
I looked at her and offered a wan smile.
“What’s up?” she asked.
I hesitated.
“Jacques is stomping angrily around the house, Isabelle is constantly looking out the window, and you are missing. Then I come here and find you throwing rocks in the stream and looking like you ate an angry sandwich.” She narrowed her eyes at me, trying to look threatening.
I couldn’t help but smile.
She sat down and patted the ground. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
I sat down next to her and she linked her arm in mine. Peace settled over me.
“I don’t know where to start,” I began.
“Start at what happened while we were gone. Did someone come over to the house?”
I looked at her strangely. “How did you know?”
“Like I said, Jacques stomping around the house and Isabelle looking out the window constantly, it’s not too hard to figure out something happened. So tell me what.” I took a deep breath.
“Okay,” I started. “Yes, some men came to the house. I guess that they are the Burgundians. And I think,” I hesitated. “I think they were looking for me.”
“Why do you think that?” she asked.
“Well, I’m not entirely sure. They wanted to know who was living in the house. And they acted like they knew that we were there. And then, there was this dream I had a while ago.”
She stiffened and sat as still as a statue.
“They were in it and they were… Looking for me.”
“Looking for you?” she repeated.
“Yes, looking for me.”
“And, that’s all they were doing?”
“Well, no. Not exactly. They also.” I stopped. I wanted to tell her but it was hard to even say it. “They k-killed me,” I choked out.
She was quiet and a long silence came over us. Finally, she spoke.
“Okay, so what should we do?”
“I don’t know, that’s what I’m trying to figure out. I know Mr. Becker told us not to leave, but maybe if I just left and went a little way out, then maybe you and —”
“NO.” She cut me off.
“What?” I asked.
“No. You’re not leaving alone.”
I sat there stunned. “But, if maybe — ”
“No, Tristen. I don’t, I can’t.” She looked at me earnestly, pleading, “Please don’t leave us. It doesn’t matter what happens to us, I don’t want you to leave me.”
Her words sunk in.
“Okay.” I sighed reluctantly and rubbed my forehead. A headache was coming on.
“You promise?” she looked me directly in the eyes. Electricity buzzed between us. “Yes, okay. I promise.”
We were quiet again.
“Okay, so what next?” I finally questioned.
“Well, I think you’re right. First we should tell Isolda, but I think we should leave tomorrow night. I agree that we shouldn’t put the family in danger, but we shouldn’t just leave without a plan. Besides, Isolda and I are here for a reason.”
I frowned at this.
“For some reason, we came here with you. So, we’ll stick together and find a way out of this. Or find Mr. Becker. Whatever you want.”
I thought about what she said and could find no fault. No real answers either but nothing that I could dispute.
“I’ll talk to Isolda in the morning, and maybe you can leave early to go scout out a place. I’ll come up with a reason to tell them why you’re gone. Then Isolda and I will be ready to go by tomorrow night. Does that sound good?”
I felt the weight of responsibility on me and nodded.
“Okay, yes. Let’s do it.”
She nodded in agreement and we silently looked out over the water. We could see ripples where fish munched on little bugs. The circles grew wider through the water until they disappeared into the currents of the water.
❦
Apparently Jacques had a plan of his own. When we returned to the house, he and his sons were gone. Isabelle didn’t say much to us when we walked in the door and Isolda, Jehanette and Catherine were already in bed.
Isabelle paced around the house and kept glancing at the door. Hoping they would soon return, I anxiously looked out the window and saw a long line of fire moving slowly down the hill.
“Isabelle!” I exclaimed. She ran to the window and cried out. The soldiers had returned with a large group of men, bringing fire with them to burn us out of the village.
Guilt overcame me and I stood frozen by the window.
“Come girls! We must go to the woods to where we’ve hidden the food. We’ll meet Papa on his return home and he will help us find the place he has chosen.” The girls jumped up from their bed; they were still dressed. Isolda looked at me with wide eyes.
“No, Mama!” cried Jehanette. “We must warn the village! We cannot leave them here to die in their beds.”
Isabelle froze in her tracks and you could see her thinking quickly. Her eyes looked toward the door in the hopes that Jacques and the boys would walk through it; I could tell that she was worried they might have been caught already.
“You are right, Jehanette. Go to the church and ring the bell. The English priest will have moved on by now. Make sure you use the alarm signal. Ring it strong and loud to wake everyone. We will try to warn everyone we can and then go to the barn to prepare the horses. Tristen, can you let the sheep loose? I pray to God that they will find safety on their own. We can gather them after the worse is over.”
Isolda and Ailey grabbed hold of me.
“We will go to warn the neighbors,” Isolda said.
“No,” I cried. “Go to the barn and I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”
Isolda shook her head. “No,” she said stubbornly.
“Ailey,” I pleaded, saying her name softly so that the others wouldn’t hear me, hoping she would take my side.
She
nodded, but not in agreement with me. “Tristen, we have to help save these people if we can. We’ve gotten to know them more than you have and we care about them. We’ll start farther off in town where they might not be able to see what’s happening and there’s a better chance of escape for us.”
“No,” I said. “If anything happened to either of you, I don’t think I could live with myself.”
“We’ll be fine, Tristen,” Ailey replied. “I promise we’ll go as fast as we can.”
I hesitated. Thoughts tumbled through my mind as I contemplated what this might mean but I had no time though to weigh the pros and cons. Of course, they would do what they felt was right, I could do nothing about it.
I turned to Isolda. “Please, please run to the barn as soon as you can. Take no chances. When you can see them enter town, go directly toward the barn, okay?”
She nodded.
My heart pounding, I grabbed her and brought her lips to mine and kissed her swiftly on the mouth. Then, not bothering to wait for her reaction, I ran out the door.
“Isabelle,” I called out. She turned around.
“I’m sorry,” I began. She ran back to me and hugged me. “I didn’t mean — ” I tried to apologize.
“Shhh. It’s not your fault. They would have come eventually. We knew that after he priest came here. They are always messengers of doom. That’s why we’ve been preparing. Now go. And hurry.” She rushed off.
I ran toward the livestock pens. I could see that a few of the other villagers had already seen the advancing soldiers and were running chaotically in every direction. I steeled my mind to accomplish my task, and then to return to the barn. On my way, a movement caught my eye and I saw a man running toward me. It was Mr. Becker.
“Tristen!” he called out, waving his hands to get my attention. “Tristen!” I changed direction and ran toward him. When I caught up he had leaned over, trying to catch his breath.
“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” I cried. He held his finger up to hush me as he caught his breath. Finally he straightened up and I could see his tired and ragged face. He had a cut on his forehead and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days.
“Tristen, you must save Jehanette.”
The Last Seeker: Book 1: a teen & YA magical, fantasy, paranormal, & adventure novel (TRISTEN) Page 18