Page 46 of A Fierce Wind

“Have I made you uncomfortable?” he asked with feigned innocence. “You see time is so short for us. We’ve only this night to know each other better. There may be no time for love but there is always time for pleasure.”

Disgusted, Zoé got to her feet, looking down at him. “You have, indeed, offended me, monsieur, but then you do not know me well. I am not one to fall at the feet—or into the bed—of the heroes you speak of. For that, you will have to seek out another.”

She turned and, with her chin in the air, took her leave.

As she walked away, she heard him chuckle before saying, “Quelle femme!”

She wanted nothing to do with so-called heroes like Henri and his friend Boisguy. They lived for today and for a cause or, in Boisguy’s case, their own needs, using whomever they would without regard to the hearts they broke along the way. Zoé might admire their courage and their leadership among men, but she would never want to be the woman of such a man. She wanted to be the world for the man she loved, be it in the middle of war or in peace. Her uncle had taught her such was possible and she did not want less for herself.

Chapter 11

Freddie did not question Zoé when she asked if she and Isabeau could take dinner in their chamber, saying she wanted to retire early. Perhaps she was tired from her excursion into the woods with Captain Victor and little sleep the night before. He was just glad she had returned unscathed, the patrol without incident. The journey tomorrow would be long and she would need her rest. Besides, the evening allowed him time to transcribe his notes into code.

The next morning brought a steady rain as they readied for their departure. Despite the weather, Freddie was anxious to leave. Now that he had the information he had come to collect, there was no reason to linger. Boisguy’s repeated urgings for Zoé to stay had, to Freddie’s great pleasure, fallen on deaf ears.

At the castle’s entrance, Jean Chouan and Boisguy waited to see them off. The Chouans had made sure the departing visitors carried food for the journey, the kind of portable rations Boisguy’s men took with them on long excursions: dried meat, berries, hazelnuts and the white wine of Brittany. They were also provided with a map, Jean Chouan suggesting they return to Lorient by another route, skirting Rennes to the west.

“You’re in charge of the map,” Freddie said to Erwan, handing him the drawing. “Keep us on the right path.”

Erwan nodded, his finger tracing the route Boisguy had marked out before stuffing the map into a watertight pouch.

As before, Isabeau would be the only one of them to ride. Freddie helped her to mount. She sat atop the black mare she had named Sabre on a thick saddle blanket, crouched beneath her wide felt hat and huddled under her coat.

Handing the reins to Gabe, Freddie said, “I’ll leave you to watch over Zoé and Isabeau and lead the mare.”

“Very well, sir.”

“Ready everyone?” Freddie inquired. Their nods caused rain to cascade down from the brims of their hats.

Turning to the two Chouan leaders, he thanked them for their hospitality, vowing to see the needs of the Chouan army would be met. To complete the mission, he had only to get Zoé and the others safely to the shores of Brittany’s western coast.

Their first day on the road was long and monotonous, which encouraged Freddie to think they need only suffer four more days of the same to reach the coast and Donet’s ship. The rain ceased at noon and the sun showed itself, drying their soaked clothing.

They had stopped twice for brief periods to eat and rest but, otherwise, kept up a good pace.

Freddie planned to avoid Rennes by following Boisguy’s advice to go around the city to the west. Even so, about dinner-time, with the city just to the east of them, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Casting his gaze about the forest, he felt as if a thousand eyes were focused on them.

He gave the signal to stop and waited for a long moment. Nothing moved amid the wall of green trees and he heard nothing save the birds in the canopy above them.

However, the foreboding did not leave him.

Twice he’d ordered his charges into the trees to avoid Blues on patrol. When the last company marched by them, he whispered to Zoé, “I don’t like it. The woods are crawling with Rossignol’s men.” Turning to Erwan, he said, “Scout ahead and see if the path is clear for us. We’ve hours of daylight remaining but I’d prefer to stop sooner for the night if we can find a safe place. Until you return, we’ll continue but more slowly.”

Erwan nodded. “I’ll find you.” He disappeared into the trees, his Breton clothing and long brown hair blending with the underbrush that closed around him.

Freddie looked at those who remained, assessing their strength to go on. Zoé leaned against a tree, obviously tired but uncomplaining. He suspected she wanted to remove her boots and give her feet some air, yet she had not done so. Perhaps she, too, felt uneasy at being so near Rennes. Gabe gave no sign of exhaustion but he watched his mistress closely. Atop the black mare, Isabeau gripped the reins yet her eyes bespoke her weariness. They all needed rest but Freddie could not risk stopping here. “Come, we will go on until Erwan rejoins us.”

They had not gone far when a shouted order in a gruff voice echoed through the woods. Though it came from some distance away, he thought he heard the command, “Fouillez partout! Search everywhere!”

Gesturing his companions off the path with a sweep of his hand, Freddie drew his pistol and crept toward the direction of the voice. Not far on, he spotted a large number of republican soldiers fanning out to search the bushes, parting the undergrowth with the butts of their muskets. Looking for some poor Chouan, no doubt.

Freddie’s heart pounded as he realized the tide of Blues was sweeping toward them. There were too many to engage in battle and fleeing in haste would only draw their attention. Soon the company of soldiers would be upon them.

Retreating as fast as he silently could, he joined Gabe guarding Zoé and Isabeau, already knowing what he must do. “There’s a company of Blues coming toward us. Take Zoé and Isabeau ahead,” he ordered Gabe. “I will try to divert the soldiers away from you.”

“Non!” Zoé protested. “They will shoot you the minute you are seen.”

He took her by the shoulders. “There is no time, Pigeon. I cannot let you and Isabeau fall into Rossignol’s hands.” Hoping to convey with his eyes what he could only hint at with words, he said, “You know what it would mean for you and the girl. I cannot let that happen.”