I closed my mouth, catching my breath.
“No matter. We’ll root out any dissidents and see to them, just as we’ve seen to you.”
“Oh?” I challenged. “After they’ve killed off another sixty of your men?”
His eyes narrowed. “No, Helena. We won’t have to deal with anyone like you again, and you know it. You were stubborn, and lucky. We’ll pick off the rest of this town like sheep.” He leaned closer, nearly enough to press his face against the cell. “And you’ll watch it happen. See your friends suffer, the way your family suffered. Knowing you almost managed to do something about it. But failed them in the end.”
I swallowed, trembling.
“Let that thought haunt you, locked away for your last night in the world you once knew. I’ll stop by to see you again after tomorrow, under far more favorable circumstances. When you will be the first example of discipline under the new order of La Rue Sauvage.”
I swallowed. The Lycanthru would seize control of France at the masquerade ball tomorrow night, and I had no way to stop him. No way to even send out a warning.
“You see?” he said, smiling between the iron bars. “You cannot rid the province of me, Helena. I am the province.”
He watched me quiver in silence.
“Farewell, Helena,” he said. “Until after tomorrow.”
I seethed, watching him leave in triumph. Seeing Lieutenant-General Sharrad grin at me as I stood helpless, knowing they were right.
I had lost.
And so had France.
I sat on the bench as Lieutenant-General Sharrad waited at the desk, tossing occasional taunts at me as his officers came in and out of the station. As night fell and the dark and cold seeped into the barred window of my cell, I considered the hours ticking by. By this time tomorrow, the Queen would be eaten alive and the Lycanthru would rule us all. We would all be their prisoners, helpless to escape, like I now was. Pierre, Father Vestille, Touraine, the Leónes – they would all die or become slaves to serve the Lycanthru order’s bloodthirsty whims.
I hugged my shoulders, bowed my head, and prayed.
Prayed for us all to live through another day.
18.
“Time to rise, Mademoiselle!” Lieutenant-General Sharrad bellowed, scraping his mug back and forth across the iron bars of my cell. I rose from the hard bench where I had fallen asleep beneath the moonlight. The sun now shone cruelly down into my eyes.
“Wake up, child! Enjoy the last day of your old life.” He chuckled and strode back to the desk, relieving the officer who had watched me through the night.
I stifled a groan, remembering I was still locked up at La Maréchaussée de La Rue Sauvage. Remembering that by tonight, the Lycanthru would kill the Queen, and Duke Laurent would take over the country.
I sat up but couldn’t lift my head, feeling the weight of my failure. I had confronted Duke Laurent in the street, a foolish move, and ruined any chance I had of stopping him. If I ever had a chance at all.
“What’s wrong, Mademoiselle? Are you regretting the choices you made?” Lieutenant-General Sharrad gloated from his desk. “I understand. I regret not arguing harder to kill you before you started attacking us. Lord Laurent insisted on sparing your family, until it was too late.” He scowled hard at me. “But I never forgot what your friend, Francois Revelier, did to my brother.”
I felt my blood surge. “Your brother, who killed my Grand’Mere and scarred my face when I was a child? That brother?”
“We should have finished the job with you and him, that same week. But Lord Laurent feared it would draw too much attention. I think he had a soft spot for your father. He didn’t appreciate it when I tore him apart.”
My head rose sharply. I stared into his broad grin. “You killed my father?”
He gave a slow, deliberate nod. “He interrupted me during a kill. Chased me. I had no choice.” He leaned over the desk. “Not that it would have been any different if I had. Of course, Lord Laurent disapproved. He was furious. But many of the Lycanthru sided with me. Especially another of our order that you met a short while ago. Luc Grenault.”
I clenched my teeth and stifled the trembling in my shoulders, remembering my encounters with the brilliant and deadly Grenault. Remembering how I had barely survived them.
“He meant to garner support from a few of us and take over the order,” Sharrad said.
I fixed my gaze on him. “I know. That didn’t work out.”
Sharrad’s face darkened. “No. It didn’t. Thanks to you. But now you’re here. Where I can take care of you, once and for all. And I’ll do it slowly. The rest of the order can focus on their new assignment, if they wish. I see no urgency for that right now.”
“What new assignment?” I asked.
“None of your concern,” he said. “All you need to worry about is what I’m going to do to you. No matter what Lord Laurent says, I’ll find a way to exact my revenge, Helena Basque. One piece at a time. And since we have all day to spend together …”
He stood, dangling the prison keys from his fingers. I rose, preparing to defend myself. As if I had any way to do so. Once he grabbed hold of me, I would be helpless as a mouse beneath a cat’s paw.
I glanced at my crossbow, still sitting on the edge of the desk. He noticed and smiled.
“Yeah, that gave you some protection, didn’t it? I bet you’d love to have your weapon back. Might help you escape what’s about to happen.” He stepped toward the cell, as I felt myself backing away from him. I tensed as he shoved the keys into the door lock and twisted it. Felt my back touch the rear wall as the iron door creaked open.
“Lieutenant-General!” an officer called as he entered.
The door slammed shut with a metallic echo and was quickly locked. “What is it?” Sharrad demanded. “I thought I told you to keep everyone away this morning.”
“Someone’s here to see her, Monsieur,” the officer said meekly.
Sharrad bared his teeth. “And you can’t understand a direct order, Monsieur?”
The officer swallowed. “Of course I do, Monsieur. But it’s the priest. Father Vestille.”
My heart swelled. Part of me felt a wave of tremendous relief, but another part wanted Father Vestille to stay far away.
“And?” Sharrad challenged the officer. “You’re having trouble handling a priest?”
The officer squinted, looking confused. “We can’t deny entry to a priest, Monsieur. He even reminded me of that fact.”
Sharrad scowled, then moved to the desk, shaking the keys violently. “Show him in,” he said. “He can have five minutes.”
“But, Monsieur, if –.”
“Five minutes!” Sharrad barked.
The officer hurried out. I kept my back to the wall and waited.
Father Vestille stepped into the room, his hands folded, his posture relaxed. Yet his eyes looked worried as they met mine.
“Good morning, Father,” Sharrad said curtly. “How can I help you?”
“I came to visit young Helena. I heard what happened, mostly through secondhand reports. Can you tell me the specific charges?”
I stepped closer as Lieutenant-General Sharrad leaned back in his chair, resting his boots on the desk. “She threatened Duke Laurent and some other innocents in the center of town, with this modified crossbow of hers.” He motioned to my crossbow on the corner of the desktop.
“I see,” said Father Vestille, sounding sympathetic. “And what is the price for her bail?”
Lieutenant-General Sharrad smiled wide. “One thousand livres.”
I gasped as Father Vestille’s eyes bulged. That was more than most villagers could earn in six months. He glanced at me, looking helpless, as I gripped the iron bars.
“One thousand livres?” Father Vestille repeated, pursing his lips. “That is – rather high.”
Sharrad gave a casual shrug. “She’s rather difficult and dangerous. The price was set by Duke Laurent himself. You can take it up with him
, if you like.”
Father Vestille shook his head. “No, no. I certainly can’t presume to argue with the royal verdict.” His head dropped. He heaved a deep sigh, as my heart sank. “So that’s what would have to be paid, to release Helena and return her possessions to her, with her horse and her weapons?”
Sharrad sported a smug grin. “No less.”
“Is there any way I could pay a portion of it now, and pay the rest over time?”
Lieutenant-General Sharrad stood, making no effort to hide his impatience. “Look, Father. This is the La Maréchaussée de La Rue Sauvage, not a merchant shop. We don’t haggle. You want this girl released with her horse and weapons, you pay me one thousand livres or see yourself out.”
Father Vestille swallowed, nodding sadly. “Of course. I understand. Let me see what I have.” He pulled a large pouch from a pocket of his robe. He set it on the desk and opened it, digging out some coins and counting aloud. “Thirty. Forty. Sixty. Seventy livres.” He looked sheepish. “You can’t accept any of that, can you?”
“No, Father. And you’ve wasted enough of my time.”
“Of course, of course.” He scooped up the money he had spread out. “I’ll just give you the rest,” he said, dumping out the pouch. A pile of coins emptied noisily onto the desk’s surface, including several gold marcs, to form a small but impressive pile. I had never even seen an actual marc before. “Here you are, Lieutenant-General. One thousand livres.”
Lieutenant-General Sharrad rose slowly to his feet, gaping at the pile with a look of outrage. “What – What is this?”
“One thousand livres, for the immediate release of Helena Basque, with her horse and all of her possessions, including her weapons. As you agreed.”
“But you – How did –!” Sharrad sputtered.
“Please unlock her cell and return her belongings,” Father Vestille said, with a slightly firmer tone. “You’re a very busy man. I don’t want to waste any more of your valuable time. I’ll escort young Helena out and help her learn the error of her ways.”
Sharrad gaped at him, as if trying to comprehend what had just happened. I was still trying to grasp it myself. Where had Father Vestille gotten that much money? And why would he use it on me?
Father Vestille folded his hands. “If you’ll just sign her release papers to return her possessions, as you agreed. Like you, I do have several other important matters to attend to.”
Sharrad twisted his lip, grumbling. Then he yanked open the drawer and withdrew a form, scribbling his name on it quickly and handing it to Father Vestille. Then he rose from his desk and approached my door with the keys. With a tumble of locks, I was free.
“Thank you, Lieutenant-General,” Father Vestille said, standing between him and me as I exited the cell. “I appreciate your efficiency.”
Father Vestille retrieved my crossbow from the desk and handed it to me. Then we turned from Lieutenant-General Sharrad and moved quickly to the door.
Once outside, we moved to the stables with my release papers to retrieve Crimson. “What are you doing here?” I asked. “And where did all that money come from?”
“Perhaps it’s best not to discuss that now, child,” he said, taking on a formal tone and posture.
“Right,” I said. “Well – I do have some questions. And – there’s something I need to ask you. While I still can.”
He wrinkled his brow, looking concerned. He leaned closer. “Gather your horse and we’ll depart separately,” he said. “Then meet me at the chapel in an hour.”
He turned without another word, walking to his gray Palomino. I glanced about, catching the attention of a few officers and bystanders, but no Lycanthru that I recognized. Lieutenant-General Sharrad came outside to watch me from the doorstep as I led Crimson out of the stables and mounted him.
I couldn’t help smiling at him as I rode off.
19.
I surveyed the empty field surrounding the small chapel, la Chapelle de Saint Matthieu. I took a breath, then rode Crimson hard across it, hoping no one had walked to the chapel to pray inside. Hoping no one would see or hear me riding to it.
I reached the back door and snuck inside, leading Crimson to stand within the rear entryway. I heard some movement in the sanctuary. Motioning Crimson to stay put, I crept forward.
Peering through the purple velvet curtain at the doorway, I saw Father Vestille, pacing back and forth. He had already lit the incense candles, and their aroma permeated the large room.
“Father Vestille,” I whispered.
His head jerked up. “Helena!” He moved toward me, throwing his arms around me.
I hugged him, clinging to him and closing my eyes. “I’m all right,” I said. “Thank you.”
He released me. “You’re welcome. Pierre brought me the news you had been arrested and I worked as quickly as I could. I expected the bail to be exorbitant, since you had threatened the Duke.”
“But where did you get all that money?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I went to a few people to ask for help, in addition to what little I could contribute. With funds from Monsieur Verdante and Monsieur Denue, I was able to –.”
I took a step back. “Wait. Celia Verdante’s father and Jacque Denue’s father helped bail me out?”
“Yes. Although more than half of the money came from Monsieur Leóne.”
I blinked hard. “Monsieur Leóne ordered me to keep away from his family.”
Father Vestille pursed his lips. “I admit, he needed some convincing. It certainly helped that Pierre was the one who came to me about your predicament. While Monsieur Leóne does not support your choices, he doesn’t really want you cooped up in prison. I reminded him that –.”
The doors opened at the other end of the sanctuary. In a flash, Father Vestille seized the catch of my cloak, pulling it loose and throwing the hood off of my shoulders. “Act upset,” he whispered, as he grabbed the cloak and wrapped it about my waist, covering my bizarre trousers.
I didn’t turn back to see the person entering to pray as Father Vestille put an arm around me and led me toward the velvet curtain. “Now, now, Mademoiselle, don’t fret,” he said, as I hung my head and pretended to sob. “There’s nothing shameful about wearing a red dress. Come dry your tears.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nod toward the visitor at the door and cross himself before he escorted me through the curtain into the rear entryway.
“Thank you,” I said, as he set my cloak on a hook and locked the rear door. Crimson whinnied once, but I put up a hand to settle him.
“Now,” he said. “You said you needed to ask me something.”
I swallowed. I felt more hollow inside than I had ever felt when I expected Mama or Papa to scold me. I had committed the worst imaginable crime, and it felt like I now stood at the judgment seat of the Lord God himself.
“Father, I know you don’t believe what I’m doing is right,” I said. “But I have no choice. I have to stop them, however I can. And –.” I bit my lip, then released it. “And I might not survive. So please. Just tell me what I must do when it’s over.”
He knit his brows together. “What you must do?”
“To absolve myself.” I gathered my breath and let it out slowly. “What must I do to make up for killing those men.”
He pursed his lips. “Nothing.”
I waited for him to explain. “Father Vestille?”
“Helena. I have visited many churches over the last several years. People who share the same faith, but apply it in different ways. I see the Scriptures differently now. The Scriptures say it is by grace we have been forgiven and set free. Not by our own efforts. How can we do anything to make ourselves presentable to a holy God who knows no sin? He simply forgives us. And accepts us. Just as we are.”
“But it’s wrong to kill.”
“There is a time to kill, just as there is time to heal. A time for war and a time for peace. Yes, you killed. You killed men who would have killed you, and who con
tinued to kill innocent people. You did what others could not do. What I could not do. Because you knew someone had to do it, no matter how it appeared to me or to anyone else. I’ve prayed about this a great deal, ever since we broke that curse the Lycanthru put on you.”
“Father, you broke the curse. I had nothing to do with it.”
“You had already done your part, Helena, before I began praying over you. The Scriptures say a curse without cause is like a flitting bird, never landing anywhere. So the Lycanthru’s curse could not settle on you, because you had done nothing wrong.”
I swallowed. “I’ve done nothing wrong?”
He smiled. “You must have been doing something right for them to fight so hard to stop you. You committed no sin, Helena. You only fought against their evil.”
I fixed my gaze on him, struggling to understand. “Why now?”
He squinted at me.
“You took a huge risk by coming to the prison for me. The Lycanthru could find out you’ve been helping me, and even sheltering me. Why are you doing all this now? After you left us all to fend for ourselves? Where was all your courage and help then, when we needed you most?”
He lowered his head, biting his lip. “I know you feel that I abandoned you –.”
“You did abandon us!” I burst. “They almost killed me. They did kill Grand’Mere Marie, and Francois a year later, a whole pack of them! I was a child. I was scarred and ugly and frightened and you were nowhere to be found! If ever a girl needed a priest, it was then.”
He motioned me to quiet down, glancing toward the curtain. I lowered my harsh voice.
“But you took one long journey after another,” I said. “Visiting other provinces while Mama and Papa defended you, saying your heart was still here with us. Maybe your heart was, but you weren’t! Then Papa died and you thought you could just walk right back into our lives as if you never left. But you did leave. And I got used to surviving without you.”
He stared at the floor, saying nothing. I felt like I should stop myself, but I couldn’t, now that I had finally unleashed my buried disappointment.
Red Rider Redemption (The Red Rider Saga Book 3) Page 11