“I know you probably couldn’t care less, but my family didn’t get involved in smuggling until after the committee for the revolution ransacked this place. And then it was only after Napoleon had been sent to Elba. The war was nearly over.”
He snorted. “You are right. I couldn’t give a damn about your family. Get your horse.”
A subdued Evangeline walked to where Gobain, her beloved horse stood. If she could keep the magnificent bay, it would be an unexpected blessing. She slung the satchel containing all her earthly possessions over her shoulder and aimed her foot at the stirrup.
The whole world erupted.
An almighty explosion ripped through the air. The wind was punched out of her lungs as she hit the hard stone floor of the stables. Gobain reared up, screaming with fright.
For a moment, she lay stunned. It took all her effort to simply breathe. A loud ringing filled her ears.
What just happened?
Rolling over onto her knees, Evangeline could make out the figure of Claude flat on his back. She staggered to her feet and tottered over to where Vincent’s man lay still. His eyes were closed, but to her relief, his chest rose and fell. He had been knocked out cold.
A second massive explosion tore through the air, throwing her once more to the ground. Then a series of smaller blasts quickly followed.Boom. Boom. Boom.
Footsteps pounded outside as people scattered in all directions, crying and wailing in terror.
“Armand,” she whispered.
Her horse dashed itself against the wooden side of the stalls, struggling to break free. If she didn’t come to his aid, Gobain would surely harm himself.
Blinking hard, fighting against the roar in her ears, Evangeline made her way over to the frightened animal. After taking a hold of the bridle, she pulled down hard, doing her best to steady him. She patted the side of his head and gently soothed. “It’s alright, Gobain. I shall get you out of here.”
It took several minutes before the horse finally settled, and she was safely able to untie the reins. After carefully leading Gobain out to the front of the stables, she came to a halt.
Fear made her wish not to look, but there was no escape. What had once been the west wing of the château was now a smoking ruin. Flames shot high into the gray afternoon sky. The whole roof had collapsed in on itself.
Smoke poured out of every window. Even the griffin on the top of the weathervane was clouded in a gust of floating black ash.
Destruction was everywhere.
The front door of the château crashed open, and Vincent staggered out. He dropped to his knees, coughing and spluttering.
Evangeline reached for her rifle, cursing when she realized it was still in the stables. If she’d had it at hand, she wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot him.
“Armand!” she screamed.
She took two steps forward then stopped as three of the Lamballe gang rushed over to Vincent and lifted their stricken leader. They carried him over to his horse, and with some effort managed to get him in the saddle. He took a hold of the reins but remained motionless, head bowed. Finally, one of his men gave a hard slap to the beast’s rump, and it jumped away, tearing down the road at great speed.
There was a sickening screech, followed by yet another loud crash. Evangeline whirled round as the tall spire of the center turret collapsed and fell. The intense heat from the fire had melted it. The La Roche family griffin crashed to earth in the courtyard.
The flames continued to burn on in the château, consuming everything in their wake.
Thank god the servants all got out before the château blew.
For what seemed like an eternity, Evangeline stood staring at the front door of the house, willing Armand to appear from out of the thick, black smoke. She would give anything for a miracle.
You wanted a war, Uncle, but not like this. You never stood a chance against such villainy. How could Vincent set the flame to our home? Why?
Her hands slowly clenched tightly into fists. The need for vengeance now burning as hot as the flames which continued to consume the château. Vincent may well have managed to survive the explosion, but he was far from out of danger.
He was now a marked man. Evangeline would have her revenge for the death of her beloved Armand. She headed back into the stables to fetch her rifle.
A few minutes later, saddlebags filled with gunpowder and shot, Gobain galloped at full speed out of the stables and toward the front gate. On his back, Evangeline lay low over the reins.
The Lamballe gang had fired the first volley in this battle, but while they limped away intending to go home and nurse their wounds, she was hot on their trail. Evangeline La Roche was going to rain the fire and fury of vengeance down upon them.
