Page 36 of A Fierce Wind

Freddie thanked him for his advice. “I won’t forget.”

At the edge of the city, Giles glanced once at his sister as if to memorize her face and then disappeared into the trees.

“You will see him again,” said Zoé, taking Isabeau’s hand as they followed Freddie onto the dirt road leading north. She hoped she spoke the truth.

Isabeau returned her a doubtful look.

Zoé understood the girl’s plight. She had lost her parents to the revolution and now she believed she was losing her brother. But Zoé could not allow her to focus on her loss. After all, Zoé had once been where Isabeau was. “You are a Breton, are you not, raised in the Church?”

The girl nodded.

“Well then, remember you fight for what is right and you must trust God to keep Giles safe.” She squeezed Isabeau’s hand. “We will pray for him each night.”

With that thin thread of hope, the girl’s countenance brightened. She and Isabeau had more in common than the girl knew. “When I was a few years younger than you, with my parents both dead, my uncle became my guardian. He and his English wife, Freddie’s sister, became like parents to me. Through my uncle, I have traveled much. You will meet him when we leave Brittany, for we will sail on one of his ships.”

“He has ships?” Isabeau asked, her eyes full of awe. “I’ve never been on a ship.”

Freddie turned back to caution them. “Best not to speak more while we are on the road. We cannot predict who we may encounter.”

Zoé nodded. How could she argue when he was right? At any moment, republican soldiers could appear out of the woods to question them… or worse.

She had never witnessed Freddie leading others before, but as she observed him, he seemed to grow taller, more confident, truly comfortable in the role. Pride filled her as she realized how easily he had accepted the responsibility for them all.

Hours later, Freddie called a halt and directed them off the road to a small clearing surrounded by oak, yew and beech trees. Above them, the branches teemed with twittering birds. The light rain had stopped and the sun glistened off the wet leaves. Around them, wildflowers appeared wherever the rays of the sun pierced the canopy.

Freddie asked Gabe to stand guard near the road and told the rest of them to find a place to sit.

Zoé handed Gabe some of the dried beef and apples the Chouans had given her and then shared what remained with the others. She found a seat on a large rock as they passed around skins of water.

Casting his gaze first at her and then at each face in their small circle, Freddie said, “If you’re feeling up to it, we can press on until we arrive at Fougères. We will not reach the town until day’s end but there should be sufficient daylight for us to find Boisguy and secure lodgings.”

Zoé preferred not to stop no matter how weary she would be when they finally arrived. She knew by the pace Freddie had set that he, too, was anxious to reach Boisguy. Still, they had to consider Isabeau’s ability to keep up.

Freddie must have had the same concern as he studied the girl. “If, at any point, you feel too tired to go on, Isabeau, we can spend the night at the mill house Giles spoke of and resume our journey tomorrow morning.”

“Je ne suis pas fatiguée,” insisted the girl, raising her chin. Considering what she had been through, Zoé thought her a hearty soul to deny her fatigue. Perhaps for her brother’s sake she wanted to appear one of the valiant Chouans.

“You have done well to keep up,” Zoé told her. “But no one will fault you should you want to stop sooner than Fougères.”

A few hours later, they skirted the town of Combourtillé and Freddie asked them if any were of a mind to stop for the night. Zoé inquired of Isabeau, but the girl bravely shook her head. Nonetheless, Freddie suggested that before they pressed on, he should call on the miller to see if he had any messages for Boisguy.

“I’ll take Erwan with me since he has the best command of Breton. The rest of you stay here, off the road and hidden among the trees. Gabe will stand guard.”

Zoé was about to remind Freddie she could be useful in a fight, but something in his expression told her to hold her tongue.

From the edge of the trees bordering the stream, Freddie observed the two-story stone mill house some thirty feet away. Its chimney rose above a sloping slate roof typical of the countryside. While the house appeared in good repair, the six paned windows were devoid of curtains, a woman’s touch clearly lacking here. Smaller buildings of similar ilk but without windows stood nearby. He assumed they were for grain storage, equipment and animals.

An eerie quiet permeated the area. No birds sang in the trees. Even the stream was silent in its sullen passage. ’Twas as if nature was holding its breath.

Freddie’s nerves were taut with expectation. “Keep alert, Erwan.”

They were about to step from the cover of the trees when the faded blue door of the mill house burst open and two Chouans strode outside, their jackets bearing the sacred heart patch. Each carried a bayoneted musket. A third man, coming from the side of the house, joined them.

Freddie raised his arm in front of Erwan, holding him back when he would have stepped forward. “Wait.”

Sun glinted off the Chouans’ clothing revealing what looked like fresh blood splashed across their shirts and waistcoats. Two of the men carried bulging sacks.

“Boisguy’s men?” Erwan whispered.