by A L Berridge
I’d forgotten how dangerous he was. I’d seen him armoured and on horseback at La Marfée, but this was the d’Estrada I remembered from Dax, a handsome young Spaniard with that relaxed assurance that said he wasn’t scared of anything. His walk was a bit like André’s, that same light swing in the hip to bring his sword ready to his hand, but he hadn’t the boy’s restlessness, he seemed like a man with all the time in the world. He was just strolling along, inclining his head courteously to listen to a junior officer by his side, but it didn’t matter how polite he was, he made you feel inferior just by being there. André watched him with a kind of yearning intensity, and I knew without looking his hand was on his sword.
‘Head down,’ said Stefan roughly. ‘You think he won’t spot you in a crowd?’ He was watching d’Estrada himself, but there wasn’t any yearning in it, just the narrow-eyed stare of a man who’s seen a snake and wants it killed quick.
I don’t want to say much about the service. It ought to have felt good, all of us together listening to the same language, but it was odd praying next to people I might have to kill the same night, it somehow didn’t seem very holy. We didn’t chat to people when it was over, we just waited till d’Estrada was out of sight then started to make our way back to our tents.
‘Mlle Jeanette,’ said Philibert suddenly. ‘Look, Messieurs, it is my Mlle Jeanette.’
There were about a hundred soldiers between us and the terrace, but I glimpsed the light flutter of a dress moving beyond all the dark bodies, and a moment later she came into full view. Jeanette taking the air, and beside her Bernadette.
‘She is a fine woman,’ said Philibert complacently. ‘If it were not for Agnès …’
We watched them a moment, Sunday and ladies in the sunshine, then André said ‘They’re here for a reason, something must have happened. We’d better go to the orchard.’
I wasn’t convinced, I thought they might just want a bit of air, but we wandered to the apple orchard just in case. The sun hadn’t got round there yet, it was chilly under the trees, but it was a chance to see Bernadette and I didn’t mind waiting for that.
So we did, we waited more than an hour. We waited till the sun had crept round and glowed yellow on the apple trees, but the women never came.
Bernadette Fournier
It was a nightmare, Monsieur, the thing you dream as a child. André was so close I even saw him in the crowd, but we could not reach or talk to him, we could do nothing at all.
And oh, we needed him so desperately. At nine he was to come tonight, nine, when Anne was to be married half an hour before. We had been at a loss how to find him, for we could scarcely search the tents of so many soldiers, but then this Mass had come as a chance from God Himself, for the soldiers were every one of them out in the open. We walked round the terrace a full twice to make sure André would see, but as I turned for the orchard Jeanette’s hand clamped on my wrist and she whispered ‘We are being followed.’
She was sure, Monsieur. She even pointed him out to me by a movement of her eyes, a soldier who had been on the gallery when we left and was now on the lawns staring most busily at nothing. Jeanette said ‘He walked all round the terrace with us, Bernadette. Not once, but both times. Now, I ask you, how much of an accident is that?’
‘Then we will separate,’ said I. ‘Sit on the bench while I walk round again, and when he follows me you must go for the orchard.’
I strolled on alone, but had hardly turned the corner when footsteps pattered behind me and there again was Jeanette. She took my arm in a show of friendly companionship and led me back to the bench, a great cold stone thing with arms like the heads of roaring lions.
‘There are two,’ she said under her breath. ‘That was another went after you. I’ve seen him twice already on the gallery this morning, don’t you tell me that’s coincidence.’
Two we could not beat, there was nothing we could do that would not lead them right to the Chevalier. We sat and pretended to talk and laugh in the fresh air, while our minds hunted furiously for answers.
I said ‘They cannot know, we have given them no reason to watch us.’
‘But they do,’ she said, picking at scabs of lichen on the grey stone. ‘Not us, I think, but our door. I’ve caught that Carlos hanging about across the stairwell more than once. The empty room opposite, they’re using it as a spyhole.’
I said ‘Then they would have followed me last night, and I will swear no one did. André himself came behind me all the way across the gardens.’
Jeanette thought a moment, then brushed the lichen off her fingers. ‘Ah, but you didn’t come out of our room, now did you? It was M. du Pré’s, and we must thank God for it.’
My head swam with the thought of what would have happened had the visitors not forced us to change our plan. I said ‘Then I shall go that way again. M. du Pré will leave his room for dinner …’ and there I stopped, Monsieur, for I remembered dinner would be too late.
‘We won’t find the Chevalier again anyway,’ said Jeanette. ‘Mass was our only chance.’
It was, and it was lost. We could do nothing but return wretchedly to poor Anne.
She was very quiet when we told her, very quiet and very calm. She said ‘Then I have given myself away somehow and the danger is acute. Are you sure they watch up here?’
We had seen it for ourselves on our return. Only one man had followed us up the back stairs, but we glimpsed the other slipping into their anteroom as we reached the gallery, and knew he must have run up the other stairwell to watch which room we should enter. They were not stupid, these men, and were taking their job very seriously indeed.
‘I’m sorry, Mademoiselle,’ said Jeanette, her bright face crumpled in misery. ‘I don’t see how we can tell the Chevalier what’s to happen, I really don’t.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Anne, and again I was struck by the calm in her voice. ‘What matters is that they watch the door, and when André comes tonight he will be caught.’
We were silent a long while. It was an enormous apartment we were in, yet we sat huddled close together as if crushed in a net we could none of us see. I thought of a great many things in that silence, Monsieur, of why I was here, and what the Chevalier had put himself through to save me from torture and death.
I rose and went to my own little bed in the alcove. Underneath it was my box, and I had only to remove my linen from the top to find what I needed. André had said they were for the very last resort, but I knew that was now come.
Anne and Jeanette sat still in silence as I returned. I said ‘I will deal with these watchers, Mademoiselle. I shall ensure they see nothing at all,’ and on the table in front of them I placed a knife.
I saw in the widening of their eyes that they understood, yet neither exclaimed in horror. We were three very desperate women.
Jeanette stood with determination. ‘You don’t do it alone. Tell me what to do, and I’ll help you.’
‘But not now,’ said Anne. ‘If the alarm is raised now …’
Oh, but she was right, Monsieur. A dead guard could lead only to us, and we should all be imprisoned long before the Chevalier could come.
Anne stood and smoothed her sleeves purposefully over her wrists. ‘Do it after I have gone down. Don Miguel and Carlos will be engaged with us, so will my father and brother and Bouchard, this whole floor will be empty but for you and the valets. André should be here very soon after.’
Jeanette stared. ‘But it will be too late, the wedding will be happening.’
‘Yes,’ said Anne. ‘I’ll have to go through with it, it’s the only way.’
Even I was shocked. I said ‘There is no question of it. We shall do it right now, then we will all three go out to find the Chevalier. We will not be able to return, it is true, but he will get us out somehow, you can be sure of it.’
‘I am,’ she said. ‘And then he’ll lose all chance of the treaty and of clearing his name. Anything is better than that.’
&
nbsp; Ah God, but she had fortitude. It was Jeanette who seemed the more distressed of the two, and indeed her eyes grew wet with tears.
‘But you can’t,’ she said piteously. ‘That man, you can’t.’
‘And I won’t,’ said Anne, turning away and hugging her arms across her chest. ‘The service, yes, then I’ll come up to get changed, and please God André will be waiting for me. We can have the marriage annulled afterwards, it’s only words.’
Jeanette shook her head wretchedly. ‘It’s a lie before God Himself.’
Anne turned back to us, and I saw a brightness in her face as if what Jeanette had said had cheered her. ‘André did it,’ she said. ‘André did it, and so can I.’
Jacques de Roland
By six o’clock I was in the orchard talking to Crespin and Gaspard over the wall. I hadn’t got much to tell them, André could only ask them to be in position by dark and listen for a pistol shot, but they’d simply got to be ready when it came.
‘We will be, Jacquot,’ said Crespin, nodding his head in desperate seriousness. ‘We’ve got five jolly keen musketeers and surprise on our side, tell André we won’t let him down.’
I bloody hoped not. The lodge guards seemed to have been increased since we arrived, and the musketeers were our only hope of getting out.
The rest was down to us. We’d sharpened our swords and fed the horses, we’d packed up our gear and taken it bit by bit to the stables so as not to attract attention, there was nothing left to do but wait. I remember just sitting on the grass and watching the soldiers milling about like a play with no plot. Two came staggering by with an enormous basket of flowers and I wondered what it was for. ‘The château,’ said one. ‘Festive dinner or something.’ I guessed they were celebrating their bloody treaty.
Bernadette Fournier
They came for her at half after eight.
She was determined not to resist, for the rooms would then be surrounded by people and André would stand no chance at all. She said we must not even tell him what was happening, since he would arrive too late to prevent it and nothing must stop him securing the treaty. Love is not a soft thing, Monsieur. It is a grand lady standing obediently as a little girl as we dressed her, but her hands clenched into small tight fists by her sides.
It was not to be much of a wedding, but there were still enough of the trappings to make it feel the travesty it was. They had found for her a dress of gold and silver, and Don Miguel had even sent to Honnecourt for imitation orange blossoms. Wax flowers are pitiful things, Monsieur, and as I dropped the garland over her newly curled head there was only the faintest scent of singed hair.
I was not to attend the ceremony, and was able to stay in the alcove with my head well down when her family arrived with Bouchard. It might have been harder for Jeanette to excuse herself, but Anne had insisted the service be very small and her father had not cared enough to argue. He had no interest in anything but the piece of paper, and when Anne knelt for his blessing his face showed nothing but satisfaction. The brother at least had the decency to look unwell, and I noticed he counted his rings with almost feverish urgency.
We watched them to the door and saw it close behind them. We listened to their footsteps descending the stairs until all was silent and Anne was gone. Then Jeanette and I looked at each other, and I gave her the second knife.
‘It is sharp,’ I said. ‘The Chevalier saw to it himself. It will slice a man’s throat if you strike hard and do not hesitate.’
‘Don’t fear me,’ said Jeanette. ‘They have taken my Mlle Anne, and someone is going to pay.’
She concealed the knife in her sleeve, but I placed mine in my bosom for I needed a hand spare for the wine. Then we crept to the door and peeped out.
There was no sign of our quarry in the anteroom across the stairwell, nor did we expect it, for they concealed themselves hard to one side of the opening. The stairs themselves yawned in front of us, and I saw now their steps were scattered with petals for the passage of the bride.
‘Slippery,’ said Jeanette. ‘My poor lamb, walking over that lot, it’s a wonder she didn’t break her neck.’
I steadied her with my eyes. She took a deep breath, nodded, and awaited my lead.
I pulled our door full open, crossed the antechamber, looked from left to right along the gallery and forced myself to give a girlish giggle. Jeanette came stiffly after me and attempted a laugh herself. It was not good, Monsieur, but it was surely sufficient to disarm suspicion from across the way. Together we almost scampered across the gallery, our bodies compelled into terrible gaiety while we thought only of killing, and then we were at the opening of the opposite antechamber and I peered coyly round the wall.
There were two, as we suspected. One was the first man who had followed us that morning, and the other was a stranger with a beard scarce grown. I swayed coquettishly into the doorway and said ‘You’ve been watching us, haven’t you, Messieurs? We have seen you, Jeanette and I, and could not help wondering why.’
The older one covered his confusion with an ease that surprised me. ‘Two such pretty ladies, what else would a man do?’
His French was excellent, and I guessed he was also employed to listen at doors. I stepped full into the room and waggled the wine bottle.
‘Well now is your chance,’ I said. ‘The grand folk are all gone, there is no one but ourselves, what say you we have a celebration of our own?’
He hesitated, but I was close enough for my purpose and my hand already reaching into my bosom. His eyes followed it, what man’s would not, but they had time only to widen in shock as the knife came clear, for I struck in the same movement, stabbing only the smallest amount before sweeping wide into the slice. His neck opened upwards like a lid, and oh, the blood that came, hot and wet, it stung my eyes and blinded me.
I heard a gurgling, but it was not my man, he seemed only to make a sighing exhale that belched more blood, it was Jeanette’s, for she had stabbed not sliced and the knife still protruded from her man’s throat. His hands groped for the hilt, she released it and backed away in terror, but I blinked my eyes clean, put my hand over his and pushed hard. His eyes bulged but the gurgling ceased abruptly, his knees buckled, and I took his weight myself to lower him to the floor. My own man was already sliding down the wall, his body wiping a clean whiteness in the spray of red he left behind.
I went to each and completed the cut to make sure of them, then stood to face Jeanette. She stared at me with as much horror as if I had been the enemy myself, and her mouth worked in soundless speech. I grasped her wrists and said ‘Help me move them,’ but she only stared at the red smears left by my fingers on her skin.
I opened the inner door to drag the first body through myself, but it took all my strength to slide him as much as a foot. Then the weight lessened as Jeanette took the other arm, and between us we manoeuvred him through and returned for the other. We worked in silence, and she did not meet my eyes.
We closed the door, but still the carnage was evident to anyone who happened to pass by. There was no help for it, Monsieur, I pulled my dress over my head and stood in my undergarments while I used it to wipe the wall clean. Jeanette watched in silence as I resumed the dress, and I could not read her expression.
I dared not delay further, for fear of missing André’s arrival. We crossed the gallery noisily, so that if Don Miguel’s guards had heard us pass they would also hear us return, then slipped into Anne’s apartment, lit a candle from the fire against the growing darkness, and regarded each other in silence.
‘Bernadette,’ whispered Jeanette at last. ‘Your face. Your dress …’
I looked at the wine bottle, wiped it roughly, and opened it.
‘You will need this then,’ said I, ‘for I think you have yet to see your own.’
Anne du Pré
I moved in a dream and nothing about me was real. We came at last into an antechamber with an iron crucifix on the wall, and shame stirred inside me, for never befor
e had I been afraid at the sight of the cross. A servant pulled open the heavy door beside it, and as I stepped into the chapel I heard it close behind me with a soft thump.
Oh dear God, it was far grander than our own chapel at home, and dressed almost as a small church. There was a little altar with a kneeling step, a dozen carved oak chairs, and a side table almost concealed beneath a bowl of trembling white flowers. I looked about me and saw only faces of the enemy. Don Miguel advanced on me with a deep bow, Carlos smiled ingratiatingly by his side, the only guest was d’Arsy, the priest at the altar was Père Ignace, and the man by whose side I stood was Bouchard. The dream fell away from me, and I was as panicked as a small child that finds itself lost in a crowd of strangers.
I whispered ‘I must go back. There is something in my room. I must go back.’
A woman would have asked what this precious thing might be, but the men naturally assumed it was some mysterious female object too delicate to name. Don Miguel turned smoothly away and began to speak to the priest.
My father lowered his brows in annoyance. ‘Not now, Mademoiselle, we can’t keep people waiting.’
‘I’ll go,’ said Florian. ‘Your maid will know where to find it, won’t she?’
The thought of what Florian might see upstairs frightened me back to sense. ‘No, no, it’s not so urgent. I can fetch it after the ceremony when I change my dress.’
‘Change your dress?’ said Bouchard. ‘Not tonight you won’t.’
I could not believe him. ‘But Monseigneur, I can surely return to my room …’
He laughed, a great masculine sound that bounced round the stifling walls. ‘Now, Mademoiselle, did you really think we wouldn’t try to honour the traditions? After the feast we’ll be escorted to my own chamber where doubtless d’Arsy will arrange some appalling riot, and then we’ll be alone, you and I. The only dress you’ll need is this.’ He flicked the wax flowers of my garland with his large fingers. ‘You know it would be unlucky for anyone to remove this but me.’
The chapel seemed to shimmer and shift before my eyes, for a terrible moment the ground swayed, but then a steady arm supported me and a voice said ‘Mademoiselle is unwell.’ I looked up into the eyes of our enemy, the Don Miguel d’Estrada. They were brown and soft and filled with compassion, and I said ‘Help me,’ and meant it.