By the time he’d finished, his wife was already shaking her head. ‘I won’t leave you Philippe – and even if I did, Claude would only come after me. If we want Tristan to survive, we must put our trust in others.’
Philippe gritted his teeth, fighting back tears of his own.
‘Tell Brigitte to get the boy dressed. I will find Antoine. The three of them can escape through the tunnels.
‘But we have to be quick. The gates will not hold for much longer, and once they are in the courtyard, there are only the front doors between us and them. Bring Tris and Brigitte to the library. Antoine will meet you there.’
Minutes later, Catherine was feverishly dressing her son while his nursemaid grabbed what she could. Tristan at five years old stood wide-eyed in the candlelight and didn’t object as they bundled him up and rushed back down the stairs.
Minutes later, she and Philippe gave their precious boy one last fierce hug, pressed a bag of coins into Antoine's hands and watched as Tristan was taken into the underground tunnels that were almost as old as Montclair itself.
Seconds later, the front door caved in.
May 1807
‘Tristan de Montclair, what on earth would your mother say if she saw the state of your knees. School is for learning to read and write, not for fighting.’ Brigitte stared at her charge in exasperation.
‘I didn’t start it,’ Tris replied sullenly.
‘Did you end it though, lad?’ Antoine asked, hiding a grin.
‘Oui, Papy, I put him straight on his backside.’
‘Good lad.’ Antoine gripped the boy's shoulder, ignoring his wife’s disapproving look.
‘The last thing we need is for Tristan to draw attention to himself,’ Brigette scolded.
Antoine sighed at the familiar argument. ‘We’ve been here over a year now, and there’s been no sign of anyone sniffing around. He’s a six-year-old boy. We can’t wrap him in swaddling clothes.’
To his surprise, this time, Brigette didn’t argue. ‘I know,’ she murmured. ‘But I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to him.’
‘Nothing will happen,’ Antoine soothed. ‘The attackers were likelysans-culotteschancing their luck, and the chateau’s been empty for months. If they were interested in Tristan, they’d have tracked him down long before now.’
Brigitte sighed and nodded, pulling her apron off its hook and putting it over her head.
‘Do you want anything from the market?’ Antoine asked, relieved to change the subject.
His wife nodded, fishing a list out of her pocket. ‘Take Tristan with you,’ she suggested.
‘I’d rather stay here,’ the boy responded in a small voice. Brigitte looked at him narrowly. Clearly, it wasn’t just his knees that were painful. Waving her husband off, she asked the lad if he wanted a glass of milk and aMadelaine.
Half an hour later, Tristan was licking his fingers after finishing off three of the small sponges and a large glass of milk. There were no other staff in the house. After the attack on Montclair, the only coin they had was the bag given to them just before they escaped. With care, Brigitte believed it would last them five years or so. But one of those years had passed already...
A sudden noise had Brigitte frowning. It couldn’t be Antoine back already. It had sounded like glass smashing. Heart thudding, the former nursemaid told Tristan to stay put and ran out into the hall.
Seconds later, she reappeared, slamming the door behind her. For a second she didn’t move, fear rendering her immobile. They’d been found.
Tristan stared at her in confusion. ‘What’s wrong, Tata?’ he stuttered.
Without answering, Brigitte hurried to the window, moving to the side so she couldn’t be seen. Lifting the curtain, she peered outside. Four men were standing between the house and the front gate. Biting her lip, she turned back to the now frightened boy. She realised they were trapped. There was no doubt the men were here to ensure that Philippe de Montclair’s son did not live to claim his inheritance. Taking a deep breath, she walked calmly back to the table, crouching down in front of her charge.
‘These are bad men, mon cœur,’ she told him gravely, ‘so we have to make sure they don’t find you.’ She held his shoulders gently. ‘You’re going to hide in the small space at the back of the larder – you know, the one you always go to when we play hide and seek?’
Tristan stared back at her solemnly before giving a small nod. ‘It’s important that you stay there until I come for you,’ she continued, fighting a sob gathering in the back of her throat. ‘If anyone calls for you other than me or Papy, you don’t answer. You stay where you are, and you keep quiet. Do you understand, mon ange?’
Again, the boy nodded. ‘Where are you going?’ he added in a small voice as she pulled him to his feet.
‘I will lead them away,’ she responded with more confidence than she felt. ‘Come, there’s no time to waste. They will be here in moments.’
