Giroux had been lucky that his benefactor desired to bring aid into the region. Giroux had long advocated on behalf of his village, but no one important ever wanted to listen. Until, that is, Giroux had stumbled upon the man who would be his champion and who gave him a willing ear. Suddenly, there was an objective and a plan. There was money to fund their actions. It may not have been a noble army behind him, like his grandfather had once led, but Giroux had been given a voice and was proud to be leading a mission to help his people like the great men in his lineage had done before him. Loyalty to his master—hismaître—had burned in his chest.
From the beginning, however, Giroux wasn’t always comfortable with the practices of his leader. The man was quick and brutal; he refused to use names and spoke to few. But themaîtrewas a smart man, far more intelligent than Giroux himself, and Giroux had given up trying tounderstand the finer details in his reasoning. Though Giroux may not have always agreed with the tactics, hismaîtrewas much better at getting results than Giroux had ever been.
Hismaîtrehad said that the Duke would not listen to reason unless he was forced, and that’s when they began making the raids, even though Giroux was against it. His master had assured him that the attacks must match the desperation of the impoverished men of Babin, or no one would take their plights seriously. But the men with whom he worked were not his countrymen. They were mercenaries—asMonsieurPhilippe had deduced—who had no honor. They stole, they pillaged, they killed livestock. Though Giroux had struggled to contain it all, several of the attacks had happened without his sanction. That was how the boy had died. Giroux always staked out his targets to be sure of the number of inhabitants and always made sure they had sufficient means of escape during the attack. But without his presence… Giroux had wept in solitude when he learned of the boy and requested humbly that they stop the raids. But hismaîtrehad spoken soothing words and promised it would serve the greater good in the end.
The five-man party approached a shallow bank of the river then. It was a good spot for a small camp and Giroux leftMonsieurPhilippe’s two men there for the night. He would meet with them in the morning, and they would return to Ponce with themaître’s response. Giroux’s own camp was not twenty minutes beyond the riverbank, but he wanted a moment for himself to collect his thoughts. He directed his two soldiers to return to their group, saying he would be along shortly, while he himself took a moment to travel a little ways downstream.
He traveled only far enough to feel the isolation, then dismounted his horse and plunged his face into the cool water of the stream. Tonight, he’d been given the chance he’d been waiting for. He’d spoken toMonsieurPhilippe with sincerity and passion about the suffering of his people. AndMonsieurhad listened. Even after the brief meeting, Giroux felt he could trust the confident young man’s word.MonsieurPhilippe’s one criterion in providing aid was that his leader would stand trial. Giroux laughed to himself as he wiped the water from his face. Hismaîtrewas many things, but he was not a man who would face the public. He was also a man, Giroux knew, who could be very dangerous if he didn’t get what he wanted.
Then, of course, there was the debacle over the girl, the strange girl whothey had observed traveling withMonsieurPhilippe’s party. Giroux shook his head as he removed his boots and stockings, dipping his feet into the clear water. The cold cut into his skin, but it helped him to clear his chaotic thoughts. Being flushed from the caves earlier that week had come as a great hit to their safety and anonymity. The interactions with the Duke’s men would have been on their terms as long as they had stayed hidden. Once they had been discovered, Giroux’smaîtrehad floundered to find new leverage. Then his leader had set his eyes on the girl. No competent leader would give up a comrade, any comrade, but if he happened to be in love with one of them… Well then, they had found a way to force his hand.
Giroux had adamantly refused to bring her into it at first, but once again his master’s smooth tongue had convinced him to do something that made him uncomfortable. One mention of her tonight proved the theory correct.MonsieurPhilippe’s response was just what his master had predicted and, furthermore, had given Giroux powerful insight into just who the young man would be as an adversary. Giroux felt trapped. He didn’t know which man would be a more devastating enemy.
However, he had a solution. One that became clearer as he sat with his sore feet dangling in the water: Giroux would be the one to stand trial in Chevalerie. Though the crimes may have not been his idea, he had been part of them. As long as he knew his people would be taken care of—hismaîtrewould be left to protect them—his own fate mattered very little. He just hoped he was putting his trust in the right man.
He remounted the horse and set off towards their camp. He rode until he came into range. He smelled the fire before he saw the outline of the small hunting shack that served as their marker. There were voices and the outlines of men he recognized.
He passed the corral where they kept their horses and came into the clearing. He jumped to the ground and asked, “HasMaîtrearrived yet?” in the northern dialect, which was the only language most of them spoke.
“He is among us,” one of the men responded. He pointed in the opposite direction.
Giroux swung around and saw the hooded figure seated on a log at the edge of the clearing. He was surprised at first that his master would let himself be so casually among his soldiers, as Giroux was typically the onlyone to deal with the leader directly. He should have guessed the man would be eager to hear of the outcome.
“Maître, I come with news,” he said, approaching the man. He returned to proper French as his master rejected the language of commoners.
“Indeed,” his master spoke. He sat still, with his hands placed on his knees. His face was obscured by the cloak, but his bearing alone confirmed his identity. “I see he did not give up the girl.”
“No,” Giroux responded. “He became very aggressive when I asked of her.”
“Hmm,” was his reply.
“But I have his response,” Giroux continued.
“Speak then. Tell me he abides.”
“He said fifty francs per month per village, but we relinquish access to the river,” explained Giroux. “And someone must stand trial for the loss of property and the boy.”
“That is an insult.” He did not break his rigid posture.
Giroux then kneeled before the man. “I beseech you, My Lord. The deal is not so bad.” He lowered his head into a bow. “I will stand trial,Maître. If you will allow it.”
“And then what?” the cloaked man asked, rising. He took a few strides away, staring off into the night. “The money will be sent to the towns?”
“Yes,” Giroux rose from his bow and watched the man. “That is the deal.”
“I just hope he keeps his word,” he continued.
“I don’t see why he wouldn’t,” Giroux said.
The man turned then and took three powerful steps towards Giroux. “Of course, you don’t,” he said potently. “Because you are an honest man. Honest men have trouble picking out liars.” He held his hands behind his back, adjusting his posture once more. Giroux could just make out his jawline, and it was set in sternness. “My friend,” he continued. “You do know that you are being manipulated, don’t you?”
“I don’t see how,Maître,” Giroux responded.
Themaîtrestrode away again and waved his hand out towards the other men. “You or I or any of these fools could stand trial. Don’t you see? Once the Duke can parade around his catch and show that he has found the mancausing the trouble, your wishes will be moot. He will secure another generation of power while you and your people pay the price.”
“I didn’t think of that possibility,” Giroux said stiffly.
“The tax on the river is the only deal we want. Do you trust that after all these years the Duke will suddenly reach into his own coiffeurs and begin sending tribute to your home? Your cast-aside, forgotten home? Just because you asked?” He laughed into the night. “My friend,” he said, putting his hand on Giroux’s shoulder. “The only way to control the flow of money is to control the river yourself. You know that. You also know a mere fifty francs per month is a pittance if you even get it. Do not let the Duke and his minions cheat you out of what you deserve.”
