Jane Feather - Charade by Unknown (howl and other poems .TXT) 📕

had listenedto the Parisian, bloodshot eyes gleaming at the prospect of money thatdid not have to be torn from the seabed or wrenched from an unkindsoil. He had three daughters, mewling whining useless creatures who hadnot the strength to fight the ocean with him, although they had learnedto till and to sow the land, and they kept his house in the expectedorder; that they did so in constant fear of the studded belt he worearound his waist seemed

only right and proper to Betrand.

He had offered the

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boththe use of a small cottage on theoutskirts of his land and his youngest daughter, fourteen years old andthoroughly obedient. St. Estephe had been well pleased, and thenegotiation had been accomplished in great amicability. But Betrand wasless than amicable when accosted by four horsemen as he stood at thebackyard pump swilling the dirt of the fields from his face and neck.

Jules and his fellows were not prepared to be put off by the roughcurses and the threats to set the dog

on them. They had been sent inthis direction by reliable sources and nothing they had seen so far ofthis wretched farm gave the lie to their informants. Betrand Ville,under the astonished eyes of his two daughters, was held under the icystream of the pump water until, gasping and shivering, he told what heknew.

"Danny has a name for that breed," Westmore remarked as they set off ata gallop across the fields. "Can't for the life of me remember what itwas, though."

"Canaille,''

Philip remindedhim. "Not good to use in Polite Circles,y'know."

"No, no, to be sure," Westmore agreed. "Wouldn't dream of it me self."

"Danny would," Tony stated. "Never one to mince her words."

They rode on in silence until the landmarks Bet rand had been forced toproduce came into view. "We go on foot from here." Julian broke thesilence with quiet authority. "Counting St. Estephe, there are elevenof them, armed 'with muskets, and the girl. We can't discount her, notif she's anything like her father."

They tethered the horses a half mile from the cottage and crept asclose as they dared. "We wait and watch," Jules said and they did sofor long hours. The

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'smen appeared to be housed in a long barnset at right angles to the cottage. Every four hours two of them wentinto the cottage and two others reappeared. A girlish figure in ashabby worsted gown and kerchief darted across the yard every so oftento draw water from the well and to bring food to the barn. Ribaldshouts greeted her when she did so and once or twice she was grabbedand mauled, her piteous pleas producing great gouts of laughter fromthe men. But they always let her go, unharmed, and the reason for thisrestraint became clear when St. Estephe appeared in the yard, eyebrowsmeeting as he paced back and forth, snarled at the girl who dodgedinstinctively as if in expectation of a blow, and spoke in a low voiceto the men who slunk back

to the barn.

The

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was becomingimpatient. That stubborn little fool was stillgiving hardly an inch and she was too perfect, too well honed for thecrudity of plain violence to give him any satisfaction. He wanted heron her knees, unmarked. But naked, bound, alone in complete darkness,pushed to the limits her muscles could hold tenure,

still

she would notyield. The information about her husband's death had driven him into anicy rage of frustration but did nothing to change his plans forDanielle, who was now a total obsession with him.

He gave a sharp order and his horse was brought from the stable. Ridingthe cliffs, St. Estephe decided, would clear his head of the anger thatsmudged the edges of his clear thinking. He took two of the ten withhim as protection—these Bretons could not be trusted any further thanone could throw them—

and rode out of the yard, leaving eight men and Jeanette to guard theprisoner.

"It has to be now," Jules murmured. "Four to eight are the best odds wewill ever get. Six out here and two in the house.

"I used to think as a child that it would be monstrous amusing to set alight to a haystack," Tony reflected. "Not to endanger the horses, youunderstand, but just to see it burn. November 5th

par excellence."

Hechuckled and waited for the idea to take root.

"Remember remember the 5th ofNovember,

Gun powder treason and plot."

The old nursery rhyme rose easily to their lips. November 5th,guyfawkes day was a day of pure joy for the English child who gatheredsticks for the bonfire weeks ahead and made effigies of the man who hadattempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament. The guy was set atop thebonfire and burned amidst the gleeful shrieks of adults and thecascading crescendo of fireworks.

"You have the right idea, Tony." Jules chuckled. "We set fire to thehaystack and see how many roaches crawl out from the woodwork .. ." Andthen he froze. The girl appeared in a doorway, cast a scared glancetoward the barn, and was off and running-across the yard to disappearbehind a low wall. Philip went after her without further consultation,keeping his head low as he skirted the wall and then saw her runningtoward a small copse of stunted trees.

Jeanette heard the footsteps pounding at her back and ran like a smallanimal until a strangely accented voice said in her own language,"Stop, I mean you no harm. I wish to talk of the lady."

She stopped, panting for breath, and Tony came toward her, hands heldopen in friendship.

"What of the lady?"

Tony examined the white face, the wide candid blue eyes, the heavingbosom, and he gambled. "We

wish to help her. Will you help us while the

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is absent?"

"They will kill me," the girl whimpered, her hands knotted in anguish.

"No, because we shall take you with us." Tony was playing his cardswith