CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

LABARQUE had been jailed, but his poison was not yet drawn. His fury at being kept in confinement pending trial—to be held at some undisclosed time when the Judge, the Civil Council, the Plaintiff and the Crown could all be conveniently convened—fed the madness that had already taken hold within him. Night after night the fever in his mind flamed brighter, burning away sleep and pushing him toward a single obsession: revenge.

Disgraced though he was, he still held more than a few men in his grip. He had been a collector of guilty secrets for many years, and he was a master at implicating his partners and hired hands in his own shady actions. It was surprising, he had found, what lengths men would take to protect even the pettiest of their shames.

And he still had his wealth. A whisper into the ear of the shabbiest of the jail workers—a bent, arthritic cleaner who mopped down the hallways and guard room, but not his cell, every night—was all it took to have a note delivered. “What can be the harm of a simple note to a friend?” he had urged. “A note to reassure them in their worry, and beg their remembrance.” And he had named a sum to be paid on delivery; a sum that made the credulous simpleton’s eyes go round with astonishment and then narrow with greed.

For the day would come, and soon, when LaBarque would be transferred. The building where he was held now was a civil building with many uses, from housing property records to hearing criminal charges. It was not designed to keep long-term prisoners; rather it had a handful of cells for temporary detainment, while the severity of a case was determined. In the years when raiders came, it sometimes held pirates. Most often, the jail block housed only petty thieves or drunken brawlers.

And since his so-called “trial”—LaBarque sneered the word in mockery every time it sounded in his head—would not, apparently, take place for some time, he would undoubtedly be moved to the Regional Prison, far inland from the heavily settled Blanchette coast. That move would provide the opportunity he needed. LaBarque could not claim any ties of friendship, but he could still buy loyalty. Or threaten it.

“ESCAPED?! FOR THE love of—” Rosalie nearly choked on her own frustration and outrage. “Will we never be free of the man?” Unable to contain herself, she strode to the door and with a cry of anger slammed it shut. Then, feeling foolish at the childish outburst, she opened it again. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against its cool wooden edge.

Fear. It was fear she felt, in truth. The little display of temper was just her mind’s paltry attempt at bravado.

“Don’t laugh at me, Tris,” she mumbled. She felt his hand on her shoulder, a gentle but insistent pressure that turned her away from the door and into his arms.

“I’m not laughing.” Tristan had a buoyant nature, but the messenger’s report had erased all good humor. LaBarque’s transport had been ambushed on a forest road by armed men, the horses killed, the guards attacked. Some of the criminals had been apprehended, but not before three guards lay dead and LaBarque had slipped away into the woods.

André spoke up. “If it were anyone else I would expect him to seek only his freedom—to try to disappear into obscurity, as far from us as possible. But LaBarque...”

“He’s crazy as a coot,” concluded Tristan. “Who knows what he might do? But I agree. This is not about saving his skin. If I had to, I’d guess he’s coming after us.”

“You don’t think he’ll come here?” asked Rosalie. “All the way to Chênier?”

“I think he’ll try,” said Tristan. “And Rosie, Dominic had a good idea. He suggested you come with me to the defense talks in Gaudette. We can be long gone before LaBarque shows up here, if he even gets this far. You too, of course,” he added, nodding to André.

André shook his head. “I will stay here, if the Queen will extend her hospitality until his recapture. I am too old to run about the countryside, and I do not, in any case, believe LaBarque has much interest in me. But I would be very grateful, and sleep more soundly, if you would take Rosalie away from here. The sooner, the better.”

“THE SOONER, THE better,” said Gabrielle. A real bed, she was thinking. And a bath and clean clothes and clean hair. She was tired of roughing it, ready to endure even another bone-jarring shepherd’s wagon if it would get her a comfortable room and a nurse-maid’s help. Gaudette was not far, and Castle Drolet beckoned like a very paradise.

Féolan went to speak to the outpost commander, who proved eager to help his liege-lady. Though there was no carriage on site, he offered them a full-sized cart and horses to pull it, plus horses for Féolan and Derkh to ride. With a mattress laid on the bottom and a good road ahead, Gabrielle could count on a restful journey.

The clop of the horses’ hooves made a hypnotic backdrop to Gabrielle’s wandering thoughts as the foursome made their way to Gaudette. She lay cradled in the cart, watching a soothing parade of clouds and tree branches. How strange it was to think that this peaceful shaded road was the same route taken just this past spring by the retreating army. Danaïs and Féolan were singing now, clear voices raised in a duet that twined around the beat of hooves and rattle of the cart, the sound so lazy and lighthearted it made the clamor in her memory seem but a dark dream. Yet she knew it had been real: the shouting and confusion, the milling of men and horses, the groans and cries of the wounded and the sudden alarm in her mind that made her turn and struggle against the great tide of men, back to the grim field where her father lay.

Well, that was in the past now. Gabrielle hoped it would stay there, that the defense plan would remain a prudent but untested precaution. One of her brothers would come to Gaudette for the talks, she remembered, anticipating the unexpected reunion with pleasure. With luck she’d be strong enough by then to make the most of his free time. She hoped, with a twinge of apology to Dominic, that it would be Tristan. She wondered if he’d had a chance to see Rosalie yet.