Red Rider Revolution

by Randall Allen Dunn

  I urged Crimson forward at a slow trot to the front stoop, then climbed down. I knocked on the front door and waited.

  The door flew open. Father Vestille stood there gaping at me as if I had returned from the dead.

  Then he grabbed me to himself and hugged me.

  “Helena,” he rasped in a hoarse voice. He broke the embrace and bent his head toward me, holding my shoulders. “Helena. Are you all right?”

  I nodded.

  Satisfied, he straightened and stepped back to hold the door open. “Come inside. I have some pork and bread waiting for you.”

  I entered, letting him shut the door behind us. I removed my cloak and hung it on the wall hook beside Father Vestille’s wide-brimmed hat. He extended a hand toward the table, where two places had been set. One of them already had a hunk of pork loin with some cheese and bread crumbs on it.

  “I started without you,” he said. “I had no idea when you might return.”

  I sat in the chair opposite his and broke off some bread from the platter between us. “You act as though you didn’t think I would return.”

  He sighed, taking his seat, hanging his head. “I can never be certain of that. Every night, for the last several months, I’ve wondered whether you would fail to ride back. If I would not learn what happened to you until I heard news of an attack.” He looked up with sheepish eyes. “I prayed for the Lord to protect you, and to give you success, and He has. You’ve set everyone free. And you survived. I’m forever grateful for those answered prayers.”

  I chewed on my bread, savoring the dull sweetness of it. He must have just baked it that morning, before the funeral. “Thank you for this,” I said, closing my eyes. It felt like tasting food for the first time. “For everything.”

  “You’re welcome, Helena.”

  I took up my knife and fork to cut off some pork. I chewed it slowly. “I can hardly believe it’s over.”

  “What do you plan to do now?” he asked.

  I chewed slower. “… I don’t know. Go –.” I cleared my throat and swallowed the chunk of meat. “Go home, I suppose.”

  “Are you all right with that?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, feeling numb. Or perhaps becoming aware of my numbness. “I’m almost afraid to go back. It just seems too good to be true. To actually go back home and be free.”

  He continued to watch me quietly.

  I leaned forward on the table, folding my hands beneath my chin. “I want to go home again. I do. – But I don’t know if I can.”

  He pursed his lips. “You’re not the same person who lived there before.”

  I stared at the floorboards. “No. I’m not.”

  “And that house must hold many painful memories.”

  My lip started to quiver. “I haven’t thought about them that much these last few months. I’ve – I’ve stopped thinking about them, and just fought. But now that it’s over – it’s as if I’ve forgotten them altogether. Forgotten what it meant to – to have Papa scold me after coming home from a hunt and sit and smoke his pipe in our front room. For Mama to try to teach me to sew and be a proper young lady. And Suzette, twirling in our yard and making up silly songs and – clutching her fuzzy woolie.”

  He smiled at the memory. “Her blanket she always carried.”

  I felt hollow as my voice became a drone. “Mama made it for her. She never went anywhere without it, Even when we went into …” I choked off the rest of my sentence, gasping for breath.

  Father Vestille waited another moment before he spoke. “… even when you went into the woods with your father. The morning he was killed.”

  I gathered my breath. “I used to have a family, Father. Now all I have is an empty house.”

  His brows turned up like a puppy’s and he released a slow and heavy sigh. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Can I – Would it be all right if – if I decided to stay below for just one more night –?”

  “As I’ve told you, you can stay here as long as you wish. As long as you need to. I won’t tell anyone about the underground longhouse.”

  I swallowed. “Can I – come up here? To share meals with you? Until I’m ready to go home?” I lifted my chin to meet his eyes. His eyes so full of warm compassion.

  “Helena, I am a priest. I committed my heart to the Lord’s service, rather than seeking a family. But had I chosen differently

  – if I ever had a child of my own – I would want her to be as brave, and noble, and kind as you. Whatever I have is yours. Whenever you need to talk, I will listen. And when you are ready to leave …” He forced himself to sit a little straighter in his chair and swallowed. “… on that day, I will sorely miss you. Just as any parent grieves when his child leaves home.”

  I smiled. “Thank you, Father.”

  He gave a curt nod. Then he grabbed up the water pitcher and filled my cup. “I saw you with Pierre Leóne at the funeral.”

  I curled my lip. “Yes. He’s been helping me fight the wolves.”

  Father Vestille nodded. “Yes, he told me. He’s a good young man.”

  I sipped my water. “He likes me. A lot. And – I decided to let him.”

  Father Vestille grinned. “I’m glad to hear that. Maybe the Lord is preparing you for a whole new life.”

  I drank some more, wondering. I wanted so badly to accept what he was saying. That in spite of the tragic losses, I could still settle into a new life. A beautiful life with Pierre and Father Vestille and others who now accepted me. A life with no further threat from the Lycanthru. But something still nagged at my mind. “Are they really gone, Father?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You told me before that you had visited other provinces. That there were other wolf attacks in surrounding villages. In Gevaudan and Dijon and other places.”

  “Yes,” he acknowledged.

  I exhaled slowly. “So there are more of them out there.”

  His face paled. He pressed his lips together, with that expression that always meant he knew more than he wished to tell. “… Yes. I’m sure there are.”

  “Then it’s not over. Is it?”

  “For you, it is.” He stood up and walked to the window to look outside. After a moment, he closed the shutter.

  “But what if they come here?”

  “I doubt they will.”

  “But they might.”

  He whirled on me. “Or they might not!”

  I stared up at him, waiting for his sudden rage to cool.

  He wiped his brow. “Forgive me, Helena. I just – You’ve done more than anyone should be expected to do. Especially someone so young. You freed our entire village from them. It’s time to live your own life.”

  I pried free a chunk of cheese and nibbled on it. “But what about the people in those other villages who are still being attacked? Shouldn’t they be free to live life, too?”

  “Yes. Of course they should. But someone else can fight them now.”

  “But will anyone else do it?”

  He turned back toward the closed window, putting his hands against the wall. “Probably not,” he admitted. “I only wish you could –.” He shook his head, biting off the rest of his sentence.

  “Father, I know you’re afraid for me. So am I. But someone has to do something. Simonet brought other Lycanthru with him to attack me. To attack Touraine. We can’t ignore them.”

  “No. You are right. We can’t.” He sighed heavily, as if his body was being crushed beneath a wagon. “I have no choice but to let you go.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean, ‘let me go’?”

  “Nothing, Helena. It is up to you. I will continue to pray for you, and watch for your return, wherever you go.”

  He sounded hollow, emptier than I expected. “What is it you’re not telling me?”

  He turned, hanging his bald head. Then finally looked up, biting his lip. “Your father, Henri, was my closest friend. He and Celeste, they befriended me in Burgundy, and they
invited me to join them here when they learned there had been no priest in La Rue Sauvage for eight years. They let me stay with them until I found my own lodging. And during the war, when they had to go into hiding, I took them in here, in the underground longhouse, while you were still in Celeste’s womb. You were born here, in safety. We trusted one another, your parents and I. We protected one another, and helped one another.” He looked thoughtful, perhaps lost in memories of them. Then he fixed his gaze on the ceiling a moment, taking a deep breath. “Helena. Your mother and father asked me to look after you, if anything ever – anything ever happened to them. They – They asked me to be your godfather. For both you and – Suzette.”

  I blinked. I didn’t know what to say, or what I should say. My entire family had been slaughtered by wolves. Now I suddenly had a family I never knew about. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He lowered his gaze and half-shrugged. “I didn’t want you to feel any obligation. Especially these last few years, when you no longer wanted my company. But I insisted on keeping a close watch on you. I kept my promise to your parents.”

  I frowned. “That’s why you took me in. Protected me and hid me, like you hid them. Because of your vow.”

  He met my eyes with shock. “Of course not. Yes, I intended to keep my vow, but –.” His face softened, almost breaking. “I loved your parents so much, Helena. And your sister. And you. You’re all I have left. How could I let anything happen to you, if I could do something to prevent it?”

  I stared into his wounded eyes, and saw in them the same pain of loss I felt for the past two years. When the Lycanthru took Papa and Mama and Suzette, they took a part of him, too. “Thank you, Father.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I folded my hands in my lap, feeling awkward. “So. I guess we’re family now,” I said. “All the family we have left.”

  He nodded, started to smile. Then grew serious again. “The book of Psalms says that God puts the lonely in families,” he said. “I wouldn’t trade my life as a priest for anything. Being free to serve people, pray for them, counsel them and help them in any way I can. I wasn’t sure it would be right for me to assume the role of godfather for anyone. But when it came to Henri and Celeste – in any case, I’m glad I accepted this duty. Neither of us needs to be alone anymore.”

  I stood on shaking legs, uncertain, as he stood calm and patient. Then I stepped forward and threw my arms around him. He closed the embrace, drawing me close, like a father hugging his last surviving daughter. I closed my eyes and felt like a child coming home.

  Home.

  It seemed like several minutes, though it was probably only a few seconds, before we broke apart. I turned away to smear a few tears from my eyes. “So should I move in here? Or should you move into our house? We have more room there. Where should we live?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve always lived very simply. I don’t need much.”

  “Neither do I. Four walls and a roof. Some food. And – my family.”

  My head fell to my chest suddenly, like someone had dropped a rock on my head. I felt my body caving inward, collapsing under the weight of everything that had happened. Everything I had to do to survive. To save the village, of course. But in the process, I only meant to survive. And that was taxing enough.

  Father Vestille wrapped his arms around me quickly as my knees buckled. He led me back to my chair to fall into it as he knelt beside me, still cradling me as I sobbed into his chest.

  “They took everything, Father,” I blubbered. “Suzette’s blanket was covered in blood. They took her. Took Mama and Papa and Francois. They took everything from me.”

  I continued to lean against him with wrenching sobs that shook my shoulders. He kept silent, holding me close and letting me give full vent to my grief. Every emotion that had been bottled inside me for months now flooded forth in a torrent. There was no one left to fight. Nothing left to accomplish. Only the struggle to live with grief, as the last survivor of my family.

  “I want to go home,” I said. “But I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I can live there anymore.”

  He held me against him, his hand on my head. “You should go back,” he said. “To see your house. Before you decide where and how you want to live. I can go with you if you like.”

  The tears finally subsided. “No,” I said. “I – I think I should go alone.” I felt my shoulders tense at the thought of my parents’ house, with everything thrown in disarray and covered in their blood. Seeing it in my mind felt like starting my war all over again. “I’ll go now. Best to get it over with. Then – Then decide where home should be. Can you come to the Leónes’ house for dinner tonight? I’m sure they won’t mind having you. And I could use your support with Monsieur Leóne.”

  He broke apart and gave me a confused look. “Why is that?”

  I frowned. “He doesn’t approve of anything I’ve done with the wolves. He seems to feel I was just stirring up trouble.”

  “Well, that’s obvious,” Father Vestille said. “But it’s equally clear that you won. I don’t understand why Frayne would have any concerns now.”

  “I don’t know. But he does.”

  Father Vestille frowned. “I’ve already committed myself to visit the Denues tonight. Jacque’s parents.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I know who they are.”

  “They asked me to dinner as well. In their time of loss, I feel I should -.”

  “Of course. I understand. You need to work. That’s the kind of work that needs to be done now, helping everyone recover.” I smiled. “So I guess I’ll be the one cooking food and waiting up for you. Except now I can start using the front door.”

  Father Vestille nodded, then gave a slight wince. “Can you cook?”

  “Not really. I can hunt, and I can set things on fire. That’s about it.”

  He chuckled. “We’ll struggle through. As for the Leónes, I know Father DuChard is staying with them, so he should help ease any tension with Frayne. Just give him some time. We all need time to let things return to normal.”

  “Right,” I said, trying to make myself believe it. “Back to normal.”

  A knock came on the door. We both twitched, then realized we no longer needed to fear anyone discovering me here. Father Vestille moved to answer it.

  A royal page stood outside. Two royal guards sat atop horses beyond him.

  “May I help you, Monsieur?” Father Vestille asked.

  The page looked beyond him at me. “I have a summons for Mademoiselle Basque. I was told she had traveled here after the mass,” he said. He held out an official scroll for me.

  I stepped forward like a kitten about to be scolded, and gingerly took the parchment to unroll it. It was an order to appear at the Chateau de Laurent. The one occupied by our former Duke, during the wolves’ reign of terror. The last place I wanted to be.

  I felt myself tremble. “What’s this about?” I asked, forcing myself to appear calm. As calm as I possibly could.

  “It is an official invitation,” the page replied, as if this was a gift to be cherished. “The new Duke wishes to meet you. Alone.”

  6.

  The castle spires of Chateau de Laurent gleamed in the daylight, looking even grander than it did at the royal ball with torches lit along its high walls. Yet its iron gates still gave a sense of dread and foreboding as I approached on Crimson, my dress covered by my red cloak.

  My repeating crossbow slung over my shoulder. I didn’t know what to expect from our new Duke. Didn’t even know we had already acquired a new Duke. Yet my mouth still held a bitter taste for authority, after receiving no help against the wolves and nearly losing our entire village to them at the royal ball when several of our rulers attacked the Queen. Being summoned to meet the new Duke didn’t sit well with me.

  Nor did it sit well with Father Vestille. But we both knew the command couldn’t be ignored or disobeyed. After all, Duke Reichelon had done nothing to deserve our mistrust. Perhaps he s
imply wanted to meet me, or congratulate me, or thank me.

  Regardless, I kept fingering the crossbow hanging by my side, while Father Vestille remained back at his hovel, praying hard on his knees.

  I inched Crimson forward toward the iron gates, where the royal guards waited to grant us entry.

  “State your business,” one guard ordered as I drew Crimson to a halt before them.

  “My name is Helena Basque, son of Henri and Celeste Basque. I was summoned to appear before Duke Reichelon.” I held out the parchment that contained the order.

  The guard who had addressed me stepped forward to take it. He skimmed over it while his companion watched, surely ready to use his musket if I posed any sort of threat. “Very well,” the man said, rolling up the scroll. “Proceed. Leave your weapon here at the gate.”

  “I cannot do that,” I said.

  The guard flinched. Then narrowed his eyes at me. “What did you say, Mademoiselle?”

  “I respectfully refuse to enter Chateau de Laurent unarmed. Given our province’s recent history, I’m sure Duke Reichelon can appreciate my caution.”

  The guard gaped at me. “Are you mad, child?” he demanded. “You expect me to allow you entry with a crossbow at your side?”

  I felt my blood surging inside. I was ready to leap down from the saddle and aim my crossbow between his eyes to make him see reason.

  But Father Vestille had advised me beforehand how to be diplomatic. And that was not it.

  “I understand your concern, Monsieur, and of course, I expect you to accompany me inside. However, those before you did little to protect our province from harm, and in fact contributed directly to it. So you can understand my reluctance to visit our esteemed Duke, and my natural refusal to enter his presence unarmed.”

  I had practiced and practiced what Father Vestille instructed me to say. So much that I now sounded sincere.

  The guard continued to stare at me, aghast. Finally, he summoned a messenger to send word to the Duke of my “insolent request”. We waited in tense silence for a few minutes. The court’s messenger finally returned with a simple reply, bowing his head low as he spoke: “His grace, Duke Reichelon, will honor your request and bids you welcome.”