Hysteria

by Lily Blake

  “The girl is guilty, I can assure you,” Duquesne commented from behind an ornate desk after Bash was shown in by one of the elder’s servants. “I conducted the tests myself; she failed all three.”

  “Your tests are hardly comprehensive,” Bash countered. “I have spoken with the girl and I see no evidence of witchcraft. I am declaring her under the protection of the crown and will take her back with me for further questioning.”

  Duquesne leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. “Is that so?”

  “You are questioning the authority of the king?” Bash stared at the old man in front of him. Even Narcisse, the noble who had schemed and plotted against Francis ever since he had taken the throne, would balk at this level of open dissent. “You will hand her over to my custody.”

  Duquesne looked to the ceiling, a small smile growing on his face until a loud scuffle outside the door chased it away.

  “Where is my daughter?” a man shouted in the hallway. “What have you done with my Alys?”

  Bash turned his attention back to Duquesne. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He shrugged. “Didn’t you just speak with her in the stable? I have been here waiting for you and your pointless questions.”

  “If any harm comes to her…” Bash began.

  “Then what?” Duquesne asked. “If a witch dies, then what will you do? Whatever is happening has nothing to do with me.”

  Drawing his sword, Bash pushed past the elder’s servants to find Jehane Février in the hallway, his sword to one man’s throat, another unconscious at his feet.

  “Février!” Bash shouted. “Lower your sword. Tell me what is happening.”

  “They have taken my daughter!” Jehane wailed, the sharp steel of his sword still pressing against the tender white flesh of the man’s neck. “Tell me where she is!”

  “They’re in the clearing,” Mélanie Février said as she appeared behind her husband, her hair loose and blood on her hands and dress.

  Bash pulled Jehane away from his intended victim. “We must go now.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  As Kenna ran through the forest, Ada at her side, she began to have second thoughts about her plan. If these men were prepared to kill a young girl on the basis of superstition, what was to stop them killing her and Ada? Her dagger would be scant protection against a mob of men with weapons.

  “Don’t worry.” Ada looked up, her face glowing. “We’re going to be all right. The others will come.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Kenna said, wishing she could be as certain as the little girl. “We’ll save your sister.”

  “I know.” She pulled Kenna off to the left. “It’s this way.”

  Whatever she thought she was going to see when they found Alys, Kenna was not prepared for the scene they discovered. More than a dozen men chopping at trees with their axes, tossing branches and logs in a pile around a bare, leafless birch tree, designated as the makeshift stake. Close by, several women held Alys down, shouting and yelling at her as she screamed and cried for her family.

  “This can’t be happening,” Kenna muttered, trying to keep Ada behind her. “They’re completely hysterical; I can’t reason with them.”

  “We have to help Alys,” Ada said. “We have to let her know we’re here.”

  “We have to wait for Bash,” Kenna insisted. “It’s dangerous.”

  “But I know all those people,” the little girl argued. “They’re our friends.”

  “They aren’t thinking straight right now.” Kenna held her hand tightly, trying to impress the danger of the situation without scaring her. “They’re not themselves, Ada.”

  The young girl pouted for a moment and then relaxed, squeezing Kenna’s hand. And then, without warning, she pulled her hand away and ran out into the clearing. “Alys! Alys! We’re here to save you!”

  “Oh no.” Kenna checked for her dagger, not wanting to pull it out but very afraid that she might have to, and followed Ada into the fray.

  “Get that girl out of here,” one of the men instructed, wheeling around with ax in hand as Ada tried to bolt across the clearing to her sister. “And get hold of that one,” he added, pointing at Kenna.

  Kenna stopped in her tracks and drew her dagger. “My name is Kenna and I am married to Sebastian, King Francis’s deputy and brother. You will not lay a hand on me.”

  The man with the ax spun it in his hand as he considered Kenna. For all her bravery, she knew she was shaking and her cheeks felt ashen. Across the way, she could see that the women surrounding Alys had taken hold of Ada, who cried out as they tried to pull her away from her sister.

  “You and the king’s bastard have no business here,” he said, approaching Kenna slowly. “This girl is a witch and will be put to death.”

  “The King of France says that will not happen,” Kenna stated, standing her ground. “If you kill her, you are directly disobeying his edict. You’re committing treason.”

  “And who’s going to tell him?” He took another step closer. “Because I don’t think you’re going back to the palace.”

  “If you lay one hand on my wife, I will kill you where you stand!” Bash shouted as he and the Févriers rode into the clearing on horseback, scattering the men from their mission.

  “This witch killed my father,” the man shouted as Bash dismounted and placed himself and his sword in front of Kenna. “She killed a dozen people, more than half a dozen babies. She has to die for her sins.”

  “Release her to me and no one will be hurt,” Bash said. “The only man in France who can pass judgment on this girl is the king.”

  The man raised his ax. “She failed the tests. She is guilty and the only thing to be done now is to cleanse her soul with fire.”

  “Then you leave me no choice.” Bash raised his sword, falling back into a fighting stance. “Kenna, get the girls on the horses and ride straight back to the palace. I’ll catch up.”

  The second Bash brandished his sword, the man lunged with his ax but missed his target completely. Bash cracked him hard on the back of the skull with the pommel of his sword, and the man fell to the ground.

  “Kenna, go!” he shouted.

  Without hesitation, she gathered her skirts in her hands and bolted across the clearing, dagger in hand. The women surrounding Alys and Ada scattered as she approached. “We have to get back to the horses over there,” Kenna said, cutting through the ropes that bound Alys’s hands. “Hold on to my hands and do not let go. Don’t look at the fighting, just look straight at the horses. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” Alys replied tearfully. “I understand.”

  Kenna turned to the younger sister, whose face had turned completely ashen. “Ada?”

  “My mother and father are fighting,” she said, pointing into the clearing. “They’re going to die.”

  Sawing through the ropes, Kenna snatched Ada up into her arms. “No, they aren’t,” she said. “Bash will protect them.”

  But as she took hold of Alys’s hand and began to run down the tree line, she wasn’t nearly so sure. Both of the girls’ parents were in the fight, Jehane wielding a sword, Mélanie a staff, and both fighting with the kind of passion that only came from protecting a loved one.

  “This way!”

  Kenna and the two girls darted behind the trees, skirting the skirmish. She tried hard to stay focused but she couldn’t help casting a glance over her shoulder. Bash was fighting three men at once. Admittedly, three unskilled villagers who hadn’t seen the kind of action Bash had endured and survived, but still, she did not like those numbers. Forcing herself to keep moving forward, she held on to her charges, Ada clinging tightly around her neck and Alys dragging along at her side.

  “There they are.” Kenna spotted her own horse, along with Bash’s mount and three others, tied up a little way back, between the trees. “Alys, can you ride?”

  “My legs hurt from being bound for so long,�
�� she said. “But I’ll try.”

  “Then Ada will ride with me,” Kenna said. “Quickly, before we’re seen.”

  She pushed Ada up onto her horse before helping Alys find her stirrups.

  “There they are!” a manic woman’s voice screeched behind them. “Stop the witch!”

  “Go!” Kenna shouted at Alys, kicking her leg over her own horse. This was no time to be ladylike. She could hardly feel ashamed at not riding sidesaddle when it was a matter of life or death. “If you lose me, ride west and we’ll meet at the river.”

  Looking back toward the clearing, she saw Bash standing tall among what seemed like a million fallen men. “Hurry up, Bash,” she whispered as she rode hard through the woods. “I need you.”

  It was late when Francis crept into his bedchamber. Mary had been absent all evening and now he saw she was already lying on their bed, her long dark curls streaming across the pillows, a single shaft of moonlight tracing out her full lips and graceful nose. Moving as quietly as possible, he sat down on one of the grand armchairs by the window to remove his boots.

  “Francis?”

  “I was trying not to wake you,” he said softly as Mary stirred. “Go back to sleep.”

  She sat up in bed, pulling the covers around her. “I wasn’t sleeping,” she replied. “I was waiting for you.”

  Francis smiled, raking his blond hair away from his face. “Bash still hasn’t returned.”

  “I know,” Mary said. “I asked one of my servants to let me know when he arrives, but I had hoped we could talk about what happened between us earlier.”

  Reluctantly, he walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge beside her. “It’s fine,” he said. “I overreacted. You were right, Bash was the best person to send.”

  “But I shouldn’t have made that decision alone,” Mary said. “We are strongest when we are in accord, when we work together.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Francis leaned over to kiss her, the tension in his shoulders melting away. “Perhaps we should work on something together right now.”

  Mary pulled him closer, grasping at the collar of his shirt as the weight of his strong body moved on top of her. His skin smelled warm and familiar as he wound his fingers through hers. Even though it had been weeks since they’d been together, she felt as though his arms would always be like home to her. No matter how far apart their duties might pull them, she had to believe that their love could always bring them back together.

  “Excuse me, Your Grace.” Amélie, one of Mary’s maids, stood in the bedroom door and stared awkwardly at the floor. “The king’s deputy has returned to the castle. He has asked to see you and the king, Your Grace.”

  “Thank you, Amélie,” Mary said, trying not to laugh. Francis buried his face in her neck and gave a long, loud moan. “Please let him know we’ll be right down.”

  “Typical Bash,” he said, pulling himself upright and straightening the collar on his silk shirt. “Spectacular timing.”

  “We should go,” Mary chided as she pushed him away gently. “If he wants to see us right away, it must be urgent.”

  Francis rolled onto his back and sighed as Mary rose to prepare herself. Even though he knew she was right, he couldn’t help but be slightly annoyed. Bash had always had a way of coming between him and Mary at the most inopportune moments. If he didn’t know better, he might think his brother had timed this on purpose.

  “Oh, Kenna!” Mary rushed at her friend, taking in her disheveled appearance and throwing her arms around her. “Whatever happened?”

  “I went with Bash to the village,” Kenna whispered, still winded from her ride. “I didn’t realize—I didn’t know it was going to be so bad. I rode away with the girls and left Bash fighting but he managed to catch up with us and, oh, Mary.”

  Her mud-and dirt-covered face crumpled as she collapsed into her friend’s arms, sobbing quietly.

  “Fighting?” Francis embraced his brother, shocked to see him so bloodied. “Bash, it was bad?”

  “It was bad,” he confirmed gravely. “We must talk.”

  “Kenna, why don’t you and Mary take our new friends to get cleaned up,” Bash suggested, giving Francis a stern look before stepping to one side to reveal two very frightened, grubby-looking blond girls. “Alys, Ada, this is Francis and Mary, the King and Queen of France.”

  Alys bowed her head and folded up into a deep curtsy, eyes trained on her own feet, while Ada offered a little bob. Mary stared at the pair. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting but it wasn’t two terrified-looking children. How could anyone think one of them could be guilty of such atrocities?

  “Ada, how lovely to see you again,” Mary said, beckoning to the servants to take the girls. The younger Février bobbed again and smiled, seemingly pleased to have been remembered. “You must both be starving. Let’s get you something to eat and get you cleaned up, then we’ll find somewhere for you to sleep.”

  “What’s going to happen to us now?” Alys whispered. “Will you send us back?”

  Mary looked to Bash for an answer but all she found was a look of confusion. “Nothing is going to happen tonight,” she said, taking Ada into her arms while Kenna shepherded Alys along to the kitchens. “Nothing but a good meal and a warm bed. Let us go to the kitchens and then speak in the morning.”

  “Tell me what happened,” Francis prodded as the brothers headed for their private chambers. “There was some resistance in the village?”

  “There was outright revolt in the village,” Bash replied, wiping dirt and blood from his face. “We were lucky to escape with our own lives, let alone the two girls. Truly, Francis, the entire village has been consumed with hysteria. They are convinced that the girl is a witch.”

  “And you told them you were acting under the authority of the king?” Francis asked, unsettled.

  Bash nodded. “They were in a frenzy—I’m not certain even you could have been able to change their minds. When I called off the dawn execution, they took the girl into the woods and tried to burn her then and there. Not a single person in that village had an ounce of concern for the crown.”

  “Desperate people will do desperate things.” Francis glowered. This was not good news. No one would have questioned his father’s authority in a matter such as this. “I’m glad you’re safe, brother.”

  “Just barely. I don’t know what I would have done if Kenna had been harmed. The entire village is under the rule of a man called Duquesne,” Bash said, his hand reflexively reaching for his sword. “Francis, they slaughtered the girls’ parents, right there in front of me.”

  “They’re dead?” Francis stopped in his tracks. “The villagers killed innocent people in front of the king’s deputy?”

  Bash rubbed his hand across his face, exhausted from the fight and the ride. “As I said, their concern was for their village and not the crown. I know you’ve been dealing with Narcisse, but it isn’t just the hearts and minds of the nobles you need to worry about. The people outside of court are in dire straits. The wars, the plague, the bad harvests, they all take their toll. All it takes is something like this to set them off.”

  Francis clapped Bash’s shoulder, pausing outside his and Kenna’s chambers. “You’re right, brother, something needs to be done before word of this spreads. The last thing France needs right now is a witch hunt. A show of strength is needed; the people need to know their king is in control.”

  “Then we’re in agreement,” Bash said. “If you will permit it, I will ride back tomorrow and bring back Duquesne and the men who survived tonight for sentencing.”

  “Let me sleep on it,” Francis said. “It’s late and I need to think. Get some rest and we’ll reconvene in the morning.”

  “What is there to think about?”

  “Someone has to question the girl,” he replied. “The village’s reaction was extreme and their attack on you and lack of respect for the crown will be punished, but this accusation came from somewhere.”

&n
bsp; “You can’t be serious?” Bash stared at his brother. “You really think that young girl is a witch?”

  “You can’t be serious if you are going to tell me there are no forces out there that we do not understand,” Francis retorted. Bash looked astounded. Of the two of them, he had always been the superstitious one, the brother open to the world of the occult. But Francis was changing. “I will get to the bottom of all this,” Francis said, anger in his voice, “and Auxerre and all of France will see they have a king that will not tolerate revolt or the occult or heretics of any sort. This is a Catholic country with a Catholic king, and that will be recognized.”

  Leaving his brother dumbfounded, Francis took off down the hallway, staring straight ahead. The torches that lit the hallways cast long shadows ahead of him, hiding secrets and lies all about the castle. He concentrated on the sound of his footsteps, leaving Bash behind while the difficult decisions he would have to make in the coming days weighed him down, all the way back to his bed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The wind whipped around the cliffs, bringing the sweet, fresh scent of the ocean to Mary and her friends as they ran wildly around the grounds of the convent. As the battered leather football came rolling toward her, Mary stuck out her tongue to concentrate, whacking it back across the ground with all her might.

  “Girls, stop that at once!”

  The mother superior appeared from nowhere, marching across the grass and scooping the ball up under her arm. “I don’t know where you found this but I have told you before, Mary, you are a queen. I am raising you to be a lady, not a stableboy. Now come inside and clean up at once; lunch is ready.”

  Mary smiled at her friends, giggling as they dashed past the mother superior and back inside the convent.

  “And no running,” she shouted after them. “Ladies do not run.”