by Frieda Watt
Table of Contents
PART ONE:LOUISBOURG 1744
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
PART TWO:QUEBEC 1745
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
PART THREE:LOUISBOURG 1750
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
PART FOUR:LOUISBOURG 1758
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
PART FIVE:INVASION
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
PART SIX:FLIGHT
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Maps
Acknowledgments
The Displaced
Series
FALL OF A FORTRESS
Volume 1
By Frieda Watt
Dedicated to Stuart
©Copyright 2018.
Frieda Watt
All rights reserved.
Visit the Author at www.friedawatt.com
ISBN (ebook):
978-1-7752722-0-5
ISBN (Paperback):
978-1-7752722-1-2
Copyright Notice:
No portion of this book may be retransmitted, copied, duplicated, reposted, or otherwise used without the express written approval of the author, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review. Any unauthorized reproduction, copying, translation, or distribution of any part of this material without permission by the author is against the law and prohibited.
References to characters are not based on present-day real-life people. While this book is a book of fiction it is based around historical events. Any likeness to present day individuals is unintentional and completely coincidental.
If you enjoy reading this book, please write a short review on Amazon by scrolling past the very last page of the book or by visiting http://friedawatt.com/reader-reviews/
To get notified about the next book in The Displaced Series, subscribe at
http://friedawatt.com/contact/
PART ONE:
LOUISBOURG 1744
Chapter 1
THE SOUND OF SHEEP’S HOOVES THUNDERING against the sun-hardened road was the first sign that something was not right. The island fortress that housed the city of Louisbourg saw many interesting characters enter its port, but panicked sheep surging through the wide main street on a June afternoon was unheard of. The fortress of Louisbourg sat on the eastern edge of Île-Royale, the last vestige of the French Empire on the east coast of the continent. The guardian of the mighty Gulf of the Saint-Laurent, the massive structure was an intimidating reminder to anyone who travelled the North Atlantic to Quebec, the centre of France’s power in North America.
Though cut off from the rest of the French Empire by the ocean and by British lands, the fortress’s stone walls rose proudly above the stormy Atlantic. A bustling city second only to the capital, Louisbourg provided all the modern comforts for its citizens and garrison, and as an international port, it played host to ships from all over the globe. Unfortunately, at the moment, it was being terrorized by sheep.
Pierre was the sixteen-year-old son of Augustus Thibault, a very successful, widowed merchant in the city. Pierre’s father had a hand in everything from wheat and livestock to shoes and pots. One of his largest ships, the Jonas, had sailed from the capital with this cargo of sheep, which were meant to supplement the failing flocks of the farmers around the fortress. Pierre had been placed in charge of transporting the summer flock to the farms surrounding the city, but the animals, after so many days cramped aboard the rocking vessel, found the promise of dry land too appealing and rushed to freedom the moment the little delivery boats reached the wharf.
Louisbourg boasted a market, where cattle, fruit, vegetables, and fresh fish were sold. Located in the heart of the city, it was an unofficial gathering place for many of the townspeople. The vendors heard the commotion and shouts of warning, but it was too late. The flood of sheep rounded the corner. Terrified by the other livestock and the mass of people in the marketplace, what had hitherto been a chase turned into a stampede. The flock splintered, overturning tables of vegetables and leaving terrified poultry in their wake. Oblivious to the traffic, they raced between the legs of horses and surged along the busy thoroughfares, knocking children and pedestrians down as they went.
Pierre ran helplessly behind the pack. Being the son of a merchant, he had very little shepherding experience. Though just sixteen, he stood head and shoulders above most people. His broad shoulders promised strength to come, but his large bones held very little meat—and he had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to contain the thirty charging balls of wool currently streaking through the dirt streets.
Marie-Christine Lévesque had the misfortune of stepping out of the apothecary’s shop near the hospital just as one group of ewes came charging by. Unaware of the over-anxious sheep until it was too late, she tried her best to jump out of the way but lost her balance on the stone step and went tumbling to the ground, the headache cure she’d recently purchased for her aunt stomped to bits by the hooves of the rampaging beasts.
Pierre came running up behind them, cursing under his breath. He paused, bending to help Marie up. Even in his distressed state, he noticed how slim she was and how easy it was to pull her up.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
Marie shook her chestnut hair, looking around for the glass vial which, until a moment ago, had contained lavender oil. “Are those your sheep?” she asked, annoyed but trying to straighten her hat and keep some sense of decorum about her.
“Yes.” Pierre’s blue eyes gazed after the animals, wincing as more shouts filled the air. “Well, they’re supposed to be, but they’ve escaped.”
“Did you let them out?” she asked, trying her best to brush the dirt off her many cotton skirts. Pierre had a record for letting animals out of their pens at market.
“Of course not!” he snapped. The panic in his chest was making it difficult to breathe.
Marie sighed, resigned, as the sounds of more destruction echoed off the surrounding buildings. “Do you need help?”
“Would you?” The relief on his freckled face was clear.
“Are they branded?”
“Do you brand sheep?” he asked anxiously.
“I don’t know.”
“Right. Well, just get any sheep that’s running wild, and I’ll sort it out after we’ve captured all of them.”
***
Four hours later, Pierre and Marie, along with Marie’s twin, Nicolas, and her best friend, Elise Sarrazin, found themselves in the cramped, wood-panelled office of Father Allard. All four were exhausted, mud splattered, and bruised from their tangle with the flock. Marie’s hat was missing; Elise’s usually pristine, freckled face was covered in dirt; and Pierre’s left hand was swollen after being stomped on repeatedly by a particularly vicious ram. Only Nic had survived unscathed.
The flock had put up a magnificent fight, and their antics were finally put to an end only with the assistance of several irate farmers and soldiers. The sheep had been herded into a green pasture not far from the city gates. The animals would be delivered the next day after some much-needed rest.
Father Allard was the priest in charge of discipline at the Lycée Notre-Dame, the formal school run by the nuns. It was a job he’d done since he’d arrived at the fortress as a young priest, freshly graduated from seminary in Normandy. His long-running relationship with both Nicolas and Pierre had begun when Nic arrived at the fortress six years previously—a relationship that had almost made the priest quit the cloth.
All four of the te
ens sat in silence, waiting as Father Allard massaged his temples behind his plain, maple desk. Pierre, Nic, Marie, and Elise had finished their formal schooling the previous spring, and at that time, the priest had hoped he would never again have to deal with what he called the “devil’s duo.” Yet here they sat, having been delivered to him by the city’s major himself, Jean-François Eurry de la Pérelle. Major Pérelle had the unenviable task of overseeing the entire fortress’s military administration. He was not pleased to become involved with the perpetrator of the sheep fiasco.
Nic and Pierre had been friends since the moment they’d met. Pierre was a year older than the other three. Nic and his twin sister, Marie, had arrived at the fortress at the age of nine, and the two boys had met at school. Both were intelligent but bored by the classroom, and they quickly bonded as the chief troublemakers of the school.
As a twin, Marie did everything with Nic until she was old enough to put her foot down and not be swept into his various schemes. Nic teased her but never allowed Pierre or anyone else to really upset her. All the same, Marie often found herself dealing with the aftermath of her brother’s behaviour. Elise was generally a good sport about the troubles the boys caused. She was willing to put up with occasional antics from Nic and Pierre if it meant she had a friend in Marie, and she was also disinclined to object because she was quiet and reserved.
“I am very much hoping there is a better explanation for this than you were bored and looking for something to do,” the middle-aged priest sighed, the firelight gleaming off his bald pate.
Both Nic and Pierre shifted uncomfortably. Five years ago, they’d been caught freeing pigs in the city market. That incident had initiated their close relationship with the priest before them, and it was impossible to deny the similarity between the two events.
Pierre spoke up first. His always unruly blond hair was standing on end after the afternoon’s events. He was hunched over on his stool in an effort not to look as large as he really was.
“Yes, sir. See, the sheep came from Quebec. They’re to help boost the flocks that we have here. My father sent me to deliver them to the farmers. It’s just that sheep don’t really like being kept on boats and this was a long trip because they had to go around the British.” He paused to confirm that the priest understood the current political situation. “The sheep kind of stampeded when the boats reached the wharf,” he finished lamely, a slight blush to his high cheek bones.
Father Allard rested his head in his hands for a moment, trying not to blame the situation on Augustus—but without success. “And why would your father put you up to such a task?”
Pierre shifted his large frame on the hard stool. “He’s trying to give me some more responsibilities. He’s hoping I’ll take over the business one day.”
The priest’s mouth fell open in horror. He quickly closed it and crossed himself. “And how does Monsieur Thibault feel about how this situation played out?”
“It could have been worse?” Pierre asked hopefully. He had already seen his father briefly and knew that his father’s fury was beyond words, but the priest didn’t need to know that.
Nic chuckled beside him. It took much more than Father Allard to ruin his amicable mood. Nic was short and compact, his black hair tied neatly at the back of his head. Since he was usually the instigator of whatever troublesome scheme he and Pierre became involved in, it felt good to have Pierre take all the blame this time.
Father Allard stood up. He was almost as tall as Pierre, but he was as slim as Pierre was broad. “Those sheep … knocked over almost the entire market, causing hundreds of livres in damages, knocking several citizens to the ground, including Major de la Pérelle. They ate Lady Isabelle’s prized roses and would have escaped capture if the soldiers at the city gates hadn’t been thinking quickly and shut the doors. Which I will remind you happens only during the day for the grimmest of circumstances.” He gave both boys a look of deepest loathing. A vein was pulsing unpleasantly near his temple.
“Technically, we are at war,” Nic piped up, his swarthy features alight with amusement. “And we’ve been in that position since we declared war on the British in March. Too bad we didn’t find out about it until May 3rd.” The European nations that ruled the continent were once again at war, trying to expand their immense Empires. Louisbourg was completely dependent on the shipping channels from France and Quebec for any kind of news of what was going on in the rest of the world. As a result, the fortress had been at war for two months and not even known.
Father Allard was silent for a moment as if praying for strength. He changed direction.
“Mesdemoiselles, I was not aware that chasing after sheep was a worthwhile pastime for ladies such as yourselves.”
Marie glanced over at Elise, who blushed deeply. Elise was the youngest in her family, with three older brothers, all in the French military, like their father, and her parents cared deeply about her standing within the social fabric of the fortress. It was their hope that she would marry well and lift them from the financially tight life of a military family.
“I don’t think sheep care what your station in life is when you’re pursuing them,” Marie said coldly. She never liked it when someone blamed her for being a woman. “The sheep were wreaking havoc, and we tried to stop them. Would you have preferred us to stand by and let them escape? or let them continue ruining Lady Isabelle’s garden?”
Elise gave Marie a slight smile. Father Allard glared at Marie but ignored her remarks and turned back to the boys. This was exactly why he didn’t like the Lévesque twins: not enough discipline at home. “While I may not be your schoolmaster anymore and no longer have the ability to punish you, I will be informing the people who do have that happy privilege,” he smiled unpleasantly, showing a row of deep yellow teeth.
Pierre nervously ran his hand through his tangled hair. His father was already waiting outside, and the consequences were not going to be pleasant. Nic stared sullenly at the priest.
“If I have to deal with either of you again, I will personally make sure that you both spend several days in the iron collar.” He pointed a bony hand to the door, and the four of them retreated as quickly as possible into the dark corridor.
Augustus Thibault was just outside Father Allard’s office, leaning against the corridor wall and waiting impatiently for the conclusion of the meeting. He was a large man with thick muscles padding his tall frame, acquired during the labours of his youth on the family farm. He was the son of a habitant, the youngest of fourteen. Since the family farm in Trois-Rivières was not large enough to support all the posterity, he and three of his brothers left when they were old enough to find jobs of their own. Through hard work, bribery, and sheer luck, he had built a successful merchant business for himself.
Right now, though, Augustus did not look pleased. His blue eyes flashed dangerously behind the wire frames of his glasses. He hadn’t worked his entire life for his son to ruin it all with his carelessness.
His son looked a great deal like him. They were both tall and blue-eyed. Augustus’s hair had once been golden but was now streaked liberally with grey. His son had his straight nose, high cheek bones, and square jaw, but as the two of them met in the hallway, their differences became more prominent than their similarities. It was clear who was in charge. Pierre walked silently beside his father, looking dejected.
The other three headed home. Louisbourg might be a large place, but news of what happened and their involvement would eventually reach Marie’s guardians and Elise’s parents. No one would be happy to hear that they had been involved.
***
Marie left her brother and friend after only a block. She needed to replace the lavender oil the sheep had destroyed, and it didn’t take much convincing for Nic to see Elise home. Elise was gorgeous, with copper hair, green eyes, and a flawless complexion. She hadn’t come to appreciate her own beauty yet, but that didn’t stop Nic from being attracted to her.
Marie stomped through
the streets, fuming. Groups of soldiers in their blue coats and white shirts and trousers punctuated daily life. The previous month, the French army had attacked the fishing grounds of Grassy Island, part of the Canso Islands, which lay to the southeast of Louisbourg, completely obliterating the community there. That was a military victory, but the citizens of Louisbourg weren’t too impressed. It did not inspire much confidence that the army was capable of burning a village to the ground. If the French could do that, what would the British do?
The apothecary gave her a very disapproving look as he handed her the second vial of lavender oil. Marie knew she looked as if she’d fallen into a ditch. Her best grey skirt was ripped, and her blue jacket and fichu were so muddy, she wouldn’t be wearing them for some time. Worse, the whole disaster had been caused by Nic and Pierre—again. Although Nic wasn’t malicious, he was always causing problems, and he struggled to understand the consequences of his actions. He wanted to make people laugh. As for Pierre, Marie didn’t completely understand why he always went along with Nic’s schemes. However, she suspected that Pierre caused trouble to get his father’s attention. It was a stupid way of going about it, but it was effective—too effective. Since Pierre lacked Nic’s charisma, he usually ended up worse off than his partner.
Marie found Nic waiting for her near their home. Apparently, he didn’t want to face their guardians alone. The twins had been orphaned at nine and sent to live with their mother’s sister, Annette, in the great fortress. Annette had married Claude-Jean des Babineaux, a nobleman from the French countryside, with an estate in France and official standing at Versailles. He was Master of the Quay, the leader of the Admiralty Court, a title given to him by the Duke of Penthièvre, the Admiral of France. He was wealthy and became wealthier by accepting the bribes his excisemen collected from the smugglers and pirates who frequented the harbour. Claude was responsible for all marine matters. Nothing went in or out of the harbour without his knowledge.
