Authors: A.E. Albert
The next morning, everyone partook of a meager breakfast consisting of the tough leather soup and small slices of apple. Billy noticed Madeleine repeatedly giving her guests questionable stares, apparently still curious about their abrupt arrival in La Rochelle. Maurice, on the other hand, was so visibly elated watching his two children feast on authentic food, he couldn’t have cared less where the strangers came from.
As Madeleine was tidying their small eating space and Maurice jostled his laughing children on his knees, Billy, Di
ckens and Jeanie set out to into the town of La Rochelle in search of answers.
As they made their way through the streets, Billy noticed
, for the first time, garbage littering the stone roads and the gutters. They were also getting much more attention from the townspeople than yesterday. Billy guessed it had more to do with their full and healthy faces than their sudden appearance into the fold.
Dickens approached several of the townsfolk inquiring who the mayor was. Many just ignored his questions and rudely stared at him. Finally, it was discovered that the mayor was a man by the name of Jean Guiton. After getting directions to his home, they discreetly made their way there.
As the trio stood in front of the house, Jeanie shook her head and said, “Wait, we can’t just walk in there. Look how Madeleine treated us. They’ll probably arrest us or something.”
“Hmmm, you may be right, Jeanie,” said Dickens stopping to think. “Not to worry, I have an idea.” Dickens then boldly approached the front door and knocked loudly.
Suddenly the door opened, revealing a tall, dark haired man standing at the threshold. His brown eyes widened in alarm, darting to each of the strangers before him. “Who are you?” he asked in an apprehensive voice.
Dickens gave the man a sweeping bow. “Good day to you
, sir, allow me to introduce myself. I am Monsieur Dickens and these are my two companions, Billy and Jeanie.”
A scowl etched itself across the man’s features. “How have you come to be here? You sound British. Did they send you? We are not supposed to meet with you until dawn tomorrow at the front gate of the wall.”
“We discreetly entered the walls. We were hoping to plan a meeting with the French on the morrow. May we please speak with Mayor Guiton?”
Dickens genteel manner was having no luck with the suspicious Frenchman. “Mayor Guiton is busy with real concerns, like saving the people of this town or what is left of them. I am his advisor,
Bernarde Lapierre, and I do not see why he would speak to the likes of you, especially now that the king has all but won!” His voice was filled with anger and disgust.
“Now, go back to where you came from. There is nothing to further plan. We will surrender tomorrow and the king shall have La Rochelle. I wish for no further dealings with your country.” The man then slammed the door in their faces.
Dickens turned from the door with a smile upon his face and he walked down the front steps.
“What are you smiling about? That guy was rude!” Billy hotly whispered, still staring at the firmly closed door behind them.
“Perhaps, but he also gave us the information we needed.” Billy and Jeanie gave Dickens perplexed stares. “We now know when the delegates are meeting the British soldiers and where we’re going to rendezvous with them.”
“Oh right! Then we just walk out of here with them. Ya, they’ll probably give us their horses to use too!” Billy replied sarcastically.
Dickens rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Billy. They think I’m a British mediator, and will most likely allow us to leave with them.”
“But what happens when we ge
t there and the British see we’re not one of them,” countered Billy.
“They might think we’re spies or something,” added Jeanie.
“We’re just going to have risk it, aren’t we.” Dickens smiled as he began walking away.
However, as the group began their trek back to the Merriot’s, a crowd had gathered at the end of the short street. The masses stood still and just stared at the travelers. Their previous tired and dea
d expressions were now replaced with rage. As the mob began to move closer, Billy, Jeanie and Dickens instinctively moved slowly backward.
“What? Did you think my kind reception would be the only one you would receive in our fair city?”
Billy whipped his head around in the direction of the sneering voice. There stood Bernarde Lapierre, a smirk upon is gaunt face. His features rapidly contorted themselves into a mask of suspicion. “Who are you really?”
Dickens continued to watch the cro
wd, but only spoke to Bernarde. “Does it matter? We’re not citizens of La Rochelle,” he said in a tight and strained voice.
“No, you are not! So why are you here?”
For the first time, Billy saw Dickens at a loss for words. As his mind frantically tried to figure a way out of this one, a voice erupted from the crowd. “That girl gave my son an apple!” she yelled. Well, you’d think she’d at least be grateful, Billy thought.
“But we don’t have anything!” yelled Jeanie, as she clutched Dickens’ arm.
At hearing these words, the mob began to again creep forward. Billy noticed some people holding wooden beams or poker sticks as weapons. He wondered if they could make a run for it. They could probably out run them, but what about Maurice’s family? They would only lead the mob there.
Bernarde snickered at the woman’s accusation. “You thought you could bring your meaty bones in here and get away with it? I shall enjoy watching one from your land get what is coming to them.”
“Oh, the British were good enough when they could help you!” yelled Billy. He had enough of the bitter man’s remarks.
“I have long since learned that no one is on our side. Now we will dispense some justice for the loss of our loved ones.”
As Dickens held out his cane, warding off the delirious townspeople, he yelled to them, “Wait! We have come with news!”
“News!
We keep hearing of ‘news’, but nothing comes of it!” replied a masculine voice from within the mob.
“No, we have come bearing good n
ews. The siege is going to end in a matter of days,” announced Dickens.
“How do you know this?” another citizen called out.
“Listen to my voice! I am not one of you! You have never seen me before! Do you actually think we would come here without reason?” beseeched Dickens, causing a murmur to move throughout the crowd.
“Please, the siege will end when the British enters into negotiations. You all have endured great pain and loss. Do
not add blood on your hands so near the end.” He then added with sincerity, “If we had anything to give you, we would.”
“Ya, I ate a bowl of shoe soup today!” yelled Billy, only to receive a stern look from Dickens that said he wasn’t helping.
“Our food is no longer in our possession. If you hurt us, it will be for naught. Your children have died because of this siege. Do you wish to see more die?” he implored, gesturing to Billy and Jeanie.
At Dickens last words, Billy could see a change in their eyes. They began to lower their weapons, their expressions of violence deflating. As the crowd began to disperse, the travelers quickly stole down a narrow lane in the opposite direction. Billy turned back to look at Bernarde, only to find his cold and black gaze meeting his.
After dinner that evening, the group sat around the heating stove. Maurice entertained everyone with stories of French folklore and songs. Even Madeleine laughed and participated in the frivolity. The couple had not questioned the travelers since the previous evening. Madeleine seemed to know, on some level, that their guests’ business was not to be discussed. Billy was just glad to know that these kind people’s struggles were near the end.
As he watched little Gabrielle bounce on Jeanie’s lap, his thoughts wandered to Sandy and Joe from Pine St. They used every means they had to give him and the other boys the best life they could. He couldn’t count how many times he complained about having to eat fruit every day or follow strict healthy meal plans. The truth was, prior to his travels, he didn’t know what it was like to feel real hunger. His house was used and worn, but it was also warm and comfortable.
He began to feel more than a little guilty watching this family eat something as simple as apples and feel like they had just eaten a feast. Billy didn’t think his stomach would ever recover from eating the tough leather soup, but he did know that he would be more appreciative for what he had from now on.
The next morning, the group thanked Maurice and his family for their g
enerous hospitality. They set out into the early dawn to meet with the delegates at the gate in the town wall. As the sun peeked over the horizon, Billy could see a small band of men on horseback approaching. A tall man wearing a large brimmed hat stopped before them.
“Why are you still here?” Bernarde demanded in a flat tone.
Dickens just smiled congenially up at the rude man. “We thought to accompany you, and I did not want my British comrades to think you less than hospitable to us,” he said with a cunning smile.
Bernarde narrowed his eyes at the old man. “Then you had better stay close to us, for I am looking forward to your reunification with them,” he replied with his own crafty smile.
He gave Dickens a dark glare as he continued on through the gate, with Dickens, Billy and Jeanie quickly following on foot.
As they walked down the
stone path, the group could see the large French army camp spread endlessly outward. There were soldiers everywhere. Many were polishing their swords or pistols. Flags of every size were waving in the wind and a multitude of tents dotted the fields. Billy also noticed richly colored tents spaced throughout the encampment. Many of the men looked up to casually observe the delegates from La Rochelle.
As they made their way through the military camp, Billy could see that the majority of the cavalry wore brown leather jackets with white sashes around their waists. But otherwise, the men wore common clothing. Some soldiers wore wide brimmed hats and others a steel cap upon their head, with a long sword and a pistol at their side. The higher ranking soldiers were garbed in rich clothing of quality, with only a white sash to indicate their official rank.
“Where are their uniforms and why aren’t there any knights here?” Billy whispered to Dickens, as he avidly observed their surroundings.
“Traditional military uniforms did not exist until the middle of the 17th century and knighthood died out with the invention of the pistol. The value of a knight was in his training and it does not require as much skill to point and shoot a gun,” Dickens said, as he abruptly pulled Jeanie and Billy away from the La Rochelle delegates.
A loud shout rose above the din of the army. “Stop them!”
Billy turned to look and could see Bernarde atop his
horse, pointing in their direction. He was surrounded by men wearing blue sashes around their waists. Great! Billy thought, they were obviously the British delegates. Bernarde now knew that he, Jeanie and Dickens weren't one of them.
“Come on!” yelled Billy, as he led the three of them away from Bernarde.
The trio ran for their lives through the crowd as they were chased by the British soldiers. The French army just looked at them with curiosity as they rushed past. Some even laughed as they watched two children and an old man outrun their pursuers.
“What are we going to do?” yelled Jeanie. “We can’t outrun them
forever?”
Billy turned to look behind
and saw a soldier was only a few feet away. Suddenly, the soldier fell over, his face sliding through the mud. This caused the two soldiers who were hot on his heels to trip over him, also landing in the muck. A nearby French soldier, holding a large pole with a curved blade at its end, was looking down and smiling at the fallen men. Thanks buddy! Billy thought.
This bought the travelers a few precious seconds to get lost in the throng of the army. Billy looked behind and could see more blue sashed men scanning the multitudes looking for them. As Billy said a short prayer, his gaze was met by none other than Bernarde Lapierre.
“There they are!” screeched the angry Frenchman.
Billy, Jeanie and Dickens
again raced through the French army. They darted around tents and, unfortunately, unable to avoid the piles of horse manure that were everywhere.
A
s they ran through the training area, Billy ducked just in time as a sword was slicing through the air. He didn’t turn to acknowledge the outraged soldier’s curses.
As they approached a colorful tent, Dickens yelled, “In here!”
The travelers stopped to catch their breath and observe their refuge. It seemed they were in an officer’s tent. There were tables with maps and other papers scattered on top. Billy noticed a pistol and a knife on one of the tables. However, he didn’t want to touch them and he didn’t really think they would help against a group of soldiers, anyway. Billy held his breath as he heard a group of men run past the tent.
“We can’t stay in here forever,” whispered Billy, as he shook his head.
“Dickens, there’s no way we’re getting out of this camp,” added Jeanie with fear in her eyes.
“Let’s use the Device here, now. It’s our only chance,” Billy pleaded.
“I’ve already explained this to you Billy-” Dickens had begun to say as the flap of the tent was ripped open.
There stood Bernarde
, at the entrance of the tent, with a triumphant smile upon his face. “I knew you were not who you said you were. I know not your agenda, but I believe it is not in France’s or La Rochelle’s best interests.”
“Bernarde, we mean no harm to you or your countr
y. Please let us pass and we’ll leave your land,” beseeched Dickens.
“I have learned to not
trust anyone!” he spat. “Now you will be arrested and we will soon know why you are here,” the bitter and vengeful man sneered, as he placed his hand upon the pistol at his side.
In the proceeding seconds, Billy frantically tried to think of any way they could escape. His eyes fell on the large hunting knife on the nearby table. He then scanned the ropes holding the tent together. Without another thought, he
grabbed the knife. Billy kicked the table over in Bernarde’s direction, momentarily blocking him.
“Run!” he yelled to Jeanie and Dickens.
Billy grabbed a rope and began cutting. The stress on the ropes did the rest of the work and half the tent collapsed. As Bernarde struggled to free himself, Billy was already cutting the rope on the other side. When it snapped, Billy ran to join the others. As he fled, he could hear Bernarde screaming with fury inside the fallen tent and the snickers from the French soldiers who witnessed their escape.
The group quickly got lost in the foray of the army camp. As they made their way through the masses, Billy heard the loud boom of cannon fire. A yell of delight sprang from a man standing beside it. Dickens stopped to stare at this dark haired man.
He was of medium height and build and he wore a black velvet jacket extending to just below the waist. The sleeves were puffed in the current fashion, with golden embroidery around the hem lines. A large white collar circled his neck and his fitted pants reached his knees. From knee to foot he wore white cotton socks, with black pointed shoes on his feet. The man’s hair was dark brown and reached his shoulders. A neat moustache grew over his lips and a small pointed beard on his chin. The man appeared to be of high social status; however, he had the glee and exuberance of a child.
“Yes, yes, do you see it? See how the cannon’s path curves as it soars through the air and is pulled d
own as it approaches its target? Please, shoot once more. I want to focus on its trajectory. What an excellent example of mathematical application!” the interesting man exclaimed. His eyes were wide and he wore an expression of wonderment on his face.
As he turned his head to the side, he caught a glimpse of the travelers keenly watching him. He looked toward them to relieve his natural curiosity, but stopped to gaze only at Jeanie.
He approached her and bowed low. He took her small hand in his and said, “What lovely blue eyes you have, young lady.” The man stood before them with a cheerful and friendly smile on his face. “I must apologize, but I have a penchant for beautiful eyes and must always tell the lady so,” the jovial man laughed. “Let me introduce myself. My name,” he said with a low bow, “is Rene Descartes.”