My Brother's Crown (46 page)

The girls would answer, in perfect unison,
To know God by whom people were created.

Catherine clutched the Bible to her chest, feeling a measure of peace. Her free hand fell to her purse and she took out the Huguenot cross. No matter the outcome, the Lord would not fail her. She would be devoted to His glory, as best she—

The rattling of a wagon interrupted her thoughts. She scrambled to her feet, still clutching the Bible and the cross. She expected a company of dragoons until she heard the sound of singing. She stepped onto a stump. Two horses came into view and then a lone driver. It was a rag cart—a wagon, actually. Perhaps one that belonged to Jules. She scrambled up to the road, waving her arms to the ragman.

But it was not a ragman at all. It was Pastor Berger.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-S
IX

Catherine

S
he left the top-knot behind, grabbed her satchel, and slipped the Bible and necklace into it. Leading her horse with her free hand, she hurried to the road, calling out, “
Bonjour
, Pastor Berger!”

He squinted into the overhead sun as he pulled the horses to a stop.

“It is I, Catherine Gillet!” she called out. “My horse is going lame.”

Pastor Berger hopped down. “Catherine? What in heaven's name are you doing out here?”

“It's a long story.”

“You can tell me on the way.” He offered her his hand, and she stepped up to the bench, recognizing the wagon now as the newest addition to Jules's fleet. He and Pierre had made it themselves, and it was larger than his other rag carts, its bed wide and deep.

The pastor led her mare to the back and tied the reins to the wagon. He took off the saddle and blanket, and put them on top of the rags.

Then a muffled sound, like a giggle, erupted from somewhere below.

“
Chut,
” Pastor said.

“Who is back there?” Catherine asked.

He glanced around before putting a finger to his lips.

Catherine faced forward. When Pastor Berger climbed back up on the bench, she asked where he was going.

“To Le Chambon. Jules is storing rags there for the paper mill.”

“It could be a trap. Eriq said Jules has been turning Huguenots over to the dragoons.”

Pastor rubbed his chin. “I doubt that.”

“I hope it's not true, but there have been so many secrets, so much deception that I'm not sure who to believe anymore.”

“Baroness Gillet trusts him implicitly, Catherine.”

“Grand-Mère? How do you know?”

He nodded toward the back.

“She is under the rags?” Catherine's stomach flipped at the thought of her discomfort.

“No, there are hidden compartments below the wagon bed.”

“Is she well?”

Pastor nodded. “She recovered enough to come along.”

“And your family is back there too?”

He nodded again.

He will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.
Perhaps they would all die together.

They spent the night in the forest, Catherine and Grand-Mère huddled together, joyous to be reunited. The sun was high overhead the next day when they arrived in Le Chambon. Modest houses and businesses lined the streets, and Catherine recognized the village square from her previous visit, along with the fountain and the common area where the women washed laundry, a usual feature in rural villages. To the right was the river, and Pastor Berger turned that way. Ahead was the temple—a good sign, indeed, that it was still standing. They turned and traveled parallel to the river. Ahead was a warehouse, facing the water, that looked identical to the one in Lyon.

She gasped.
How
identical was it?

Scaffolding stood on one side, and scraps of lumber littered the area around the building. The windows had shutters but no glass.

As Pastor Berger pulled the wagon to a stop, Catherine jumped down and headed toward the warehouse, counting on it being identical
in every way, including the hidden vault, where she prayed she might find her cousin at last.

“Wait,” he said, motioning to her. She stopped. “We need to get everyone inside, into the—”

“Vault?” She turned toward the warehouse again. “I will be right back.”

She hurried through the door, rushing into the storeroom and finding the lever. Sure enough, the wall began to rise.

“Mademoiselle!” Estelle exclaimed, squinting at Catherine from the darkness inside. She held the baby. Amelie, wrapped in a blanket, sat propped in a corner.

“Is she all right?” Catherine stumbled toward her cousin.

“She has taken a bad turn,” Estelle said. “Jules has gone for the healer.” Catherine knew it was rare for a village to have a physician.

Amelie opened her eyes but did not respond. Catherine felt her forehead. She was burning up.

Catherine turned to Estelle. “Why are you in here?”

“Jules is afraid the dragoons will come after Amelie.”

“He is not hiding Amelie here to turn her over to them?”

Estelle's eyebrows furrowed. “That doesn't make any sense. Why wouldn't he have just turned her over in Lyon?”

“I know,” Catherine said. “But Eriq—”

Estelle shook her head. “Surely you would not believe him over your brother and Pierre?”

Catherine inhaled.

“If so, you are an
imbécile
,” Estelle said.

Catherine did not know what to believe.

“Jules is good. So is Pierre,” Amelie whispered, her eyes closed again. “They saved me…”

Catherine heard a strange noise then, like the sound of a pulley. She thought perhaps the doorway to the vault was descending, but it was not. Instead, on the opposite side of the room, a small square in the floor was sliding open. Then Jules's head appeared, and he climbed up into the vault. So this place was not exactly the same after all. It had a second entrance through a hatch in the floor.

He started at the sight of his sister but then turned his attention to Amelie.

“We have to go,” he said, sliding the hatch door closed again and crawling toward his cousin. “The dragoons are close, and I'm sure they know about the vault, thanks to Eriq.”

Quickly, Jules scooped Amelie into his arms and carried her from the vault, exiting through the sliding panel into the storage room and the warehouse beyond. Turning to Estelle, Catherine unwound the blanket from her head and draped it over Valentina.

“
Merci
,” Estelle whispered.

Then they both followed, Catherine pausing to press the lever and close the vault door before hurrying through the storage room after the rest.

As they raced down the hall, Catherine asked Jules why he had not told her he was taking Amelie, Estelle, and the baby.

“I told Eriq to tell you,” Jules said. “I thought I could trust him.”

“But now you think—”

“I do not think. I know.”

She nodded. She knew too. Eriq was the real traitor.

“We will wait for the healer to examine Amelie and then we will slip out the back,” Jules said. He laid their cousin on a worktable in the main part of the warehouse as Pastor Berger, his family, and Grand-Mère came through the front door, followed by Pierre and a woman Catherine assumed was the healer. She stepped to Amelie's side.

Only then did Pierre notice Catherine. Dirt was streaked across his face and a strand of hair had worked its way out of its leather tie. He brushed it back, his eyes lighting up when he saw her—until Eriq and the dragoons burst through the door.

Basile yelled, “Under order of His Majesty, this property is confiscated along with the paper mill, the residence in the village of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon, the estate west of Lyon, and the print shop in the city, all under the name of Jules Gillet.”

When no one responded, he continued. “It's also my responsibility, in the name of the king, to take into custody the
enfant
and her mother and return them to the convent outside of Lyon, along with claiming her share of the aforementioned properties. Father Philippe has no jurisdiction over the guardianship of the child.”

“Let me see your orders,” Jules said, stepping toward Basile. The dragoon opened his bag and took out a thick package, handing it over. As he did, Catherine glanced toward the woman, who had already begun to examine Amelie.

Jules studied the pages, flipping through them one by one. “All of these orders are under the assumption that I am not in compliance with the king's religion.”

“
Oui
,” Eriq said. “You are not.”

“So you
can
speak,” Jules said. “I thought you were aiming to have Basile do your dirty work.”

Eriq shrugged. “Anton decided he wanted the estate and the print shop too.”

“And you figured you could steal them from me?”

Eriq smiled, but his gray eyes narrowed. “I need to make my living somehow. I will be compensated handsomely. And Basile will profit from Amelie's share.”

“It has been transferred to me,” Jules said.

Eriq laughed. “It doesn't matter. We'll get it all anyway. You have no recourse.”

“Except,” Jules said, holding up the documents. “All of these are void. I'm in compliance with the king's religion. I converted the day before yesterday.”

“
Non
,” Eriq said. “I do not believe you.”

“I have my certificate of baptism right here.” Jules pulled a piece of paper from the leather pocket around his waist. He handed it to Basile, who handed it to Eriq.

Eriq studied it for a moment and then pronounced it a forgery.

Jules shrugged. “Take it back to Father Philippe and ask him yourself. His signature and seal are at the bottom.”

“We will bring the child and mother with us,” Basile said.

The volume of Jules's voice increased. “
Non
, you will not. I am the legal guardian of both.”

“Not if your conversion is not true,” Basile said.

“If you cannot read Father Philippe's name, at least recognize his seal,” Jules countered.

Catherine's heart raced. Jules must have weighed his reasons carefully. She didn't agree with him, but she understood—especially when it came to the safety of Amelie and Valentina.

Basile's face grew red as he turned to Eriq and said something too low for Catherine to hear.

Eriq looked to Pierre. “And you? Have you converted as well?”

Catherine swallowed hard, dreading Pierre's answer.

He shook his head. “
Non
.”

Her heart swelled with relief.

Eriq grinned triumphantly. “Then all of the property in the Talbot family will be transferred into my name. We have additional orders.”

“Hate to tell you, little brother,” Pierre replied, “but there is nothing to be had. Before Father left for Switzerland, he sold everything to Jules, promising that once he was settled, he would reinvest that money into a new print shop, and then both businesses would be co-owned by the two families.”

The smile faded from Eriq's lips.

And from Catherine's.
Oui,
it was a good plan, but, as with so many other things, Pierre had kept this a secret from her too. She truly had lost him.

“This is lunacy,” Eriq said. “I don't believe it.”

“We have the documents,” Jules said.

“Then they are also forged,” Eriq shouted.

Pierre remained calm. “I will go summon the
agent de justice
of the village to get his opinion.”

Basile told Eriq and Waltier to stay at the warehouse while he accompanied Pierre. After they left, the Berger boys ran outside and Catherine turned her attention to Amelie, Grand-Mère, and the healer. Jules followed her.