"Ah, Captain Le Homme," Pierre acknowledged. "Is there some news you bring us?"
"As a matter-of-fact, there is. I noticed numerous soldiers along the Loire River this morning, so I came into St. Florent to see what was brewing." The soft spoken captain continued, "From listening to the meeting I see there is trouble and I would like to help. I want to mention to you all that my ship is only a few miles from here and I can bring it farther down the river to be at your disposal. If need be, I could take you from France tomorrow.
A low, urgent rumble filled the room.
"Gentlemen!" Pierre raised his voice above the din of the crowd, his arms waving, gaining their attention once more. "We have to decide whether we are to stay and take our chances in France, or leave." He hated to actually say the words aloud. But once spoken he knew it was the only way. He cleared his throat and continued as the room became quiet. "I plan to accept Captain Le Homme’s help. It is our only chance. There is no future left in France under the rule of King Louis the fourteenth."
Leave France! Danielle’s breath caught in her throat and she nearly choked on her father’s words. She fought to regain her composure as other voices sounded their decision.
Louis de Armand added his voice to that of Pierre’s. "I’ll not stay in France and have my family slaughtered like animals! I too will accept Captain Le Homme’s offer."
Everyone in the crowded room turned to face the middle age captain, several of the men choosing to cast their lot with Pierre and Louis, but many did not want to leave their homes and chose to stay.
Danielle craned her neck to see from her narrow viewpoint as Le Homme rose to speak once more."
"Very well. I will tell you what I can do. I will wait for you at the Loire River about a mile west of the village… say tomorrow evening. I must sail two hours before dark at the latest. I can wait no longer, if we are to make it to the Bay of Biscay by dawn.
"However," he stroked his beard pensively. "I must warn you that you will travel through dangerous waters. The notorious privateer, Captain Dominion, claims the area between France and England as his own private hunting ground. Many a French ship has fallen prey to his guns. You will have to decide if your freedom is worth the risk. I shall await you decision."
A groan of fear came from her lips. Danielle stifled a gasp. Captain Dominion! The hated privateer she had heard so much about previously. He had attacked many of her countrymen to enrich his booty and his had become a name with which to terrorize young children.
Another voice interrupted the crowd and Danielle peeked through the small opening as another man stood up.
"Think this over very carefully, gentlemen," he said. "As most of you know I had my own personal experience with this Dominion rogue. He attacked the ship my family and I were on when we returned from Ireland last fall. Believe me, he is not a man to be considered lightly."
The low murmur of voices became a mild roar, those wanting to leave making plans for their escape.
In fear of being caught in her precarious position, Danielle slipped back outside and closed the door quietly behind her.
We are leaving France tomorrow! The words stabbed at her heart as she made her way back home.
Two
Danielle woke at dawn, the nightmare of the day before crashing in on her waking thoughts. She hurried through her bath so she could join her father as soon as possible. Then she would spend her last day in the home where she had lived her entire life.
She dressed, not caring what accouterments she wore. Unaware of her loveliness, she brushed her hair before the mirror. She then swept it back and tied it with a ribbon, the soft curls hanging down her back to her waist. She stepped closer to the mirror giving a final brief check to her appearance. Carefully she composed her expression to hide the fact that she already knew what was going to happen and left the room.
She hurried down the hallway to the wide staircase, anxious for the reassuring presence of her father. She descended the stairs, her skirts ruffling softly behind her on the smooth steps and crossed the marbled foyer.
Danielle found him in the sun room, sitting at the table, staring through the large window at the land that had belonged to the Rochette’s for generations. His breakfast was untouched in front of him. Feeling her presence, he looked up.
"Oh, Danielle. You are down early this morning. Come join me." He gestured to a chair at the table.
The young woman sat down beside her father, forcing a smile to her lips.
He reached out and patted her hand, looking at the lines etched across her face. She was usually so bubbly in the morning, but today all sign of cheerfulness was gone. She is so young to have seen such violence, he thought, watching her closely. His mind clicked back to the time when he had so wanted a son. Instead, this little female had come screaming not only into his world, but also into his heart. He regretted the fact that there had been no others to follow her, although she had more than made up for the absence of a boy. Danielle had learned to sit astride a horse at an early age and spent many hours by his side riding over the estate. Often she would accompany him hunting for partridge or other game. It was rarely heard of for a lady to wear breeches, or to ride other than sidesaddle. But the way Danielle could ride, as well as any man on the estate, he had seen no reason to be strict with her clothing. Maybe it was partly his fault that this beautiful girl, much to his wife’s chagrin, would rather dress like a boy instead of the woman she was rapidly becoming. He corrected himself… the woman she had become. At ten and eight she was no longer a girl. Most of her friends were married by now. Audibly he sighed at what lay ahead.
"Where is Mama?" Danielle interrupted her father’s thoughts.
"Your mother had a restless night so I thought it best for her to stay abed. Are you hungry?" He tried to keep his tone light. "Breakfast is on the sideboard. You’ll have to help yourself, I told the servants we did not want to be disturbed."
"Later," she dismissed the food with a wave of her hand. "What has been decided, Papa?"
"Everything is settled. I have already informed your mother. We leave France this eve." He watched as the words registered on his daughter’s face. "We will go to church as usual," he continued, "and during the evening service we will make our escape. It is our only hope. There is a secret passageway through a lower crypt hidden beneath the church," he confided. "It ends in a wooded area near the Loire River. Captain Le Homme has agreed to take us up the river to the Bay of Biscay, then through the Channel and on to Amsterdam. We only have to make it through the Channel safely and our troubles will be over." He purposefully did not mention the privateer. God willing, they would never have to worry about that small detail.
Danielle noticed her father’s lapse in not mentioning the name but she shivered, remembering the fear in the voices of the men the night before at the mention of Captain Dominion. She recalled the stories the LaCroix family had told upon returning to France after their ship had been attacked by that gruesome man. It brought to mind how Michelle LaCroix had embellished in detail the description of the handsome captain for Danielle and Susanna. She had insisted he was wonderful and from the sounds of it Michelle had been quite taken with the English pirate. But the adult account was another matter.
Danielle had overheard Monsieur LaCroix tell her father one day how the captain had treated his wife and daughter well enough. "He definitely likes the ladies! I was beginning to worry that although we may escape with our lives, we would be lucky if my daughter’s virtue was still intact." Danielle thought this version was probably closer to the truth.
"Already many of our countrymen have made Holland their home, Danielle. We can make a new life there." He watched his daughter’s face, trying to read her feelings.
Danielle walked to the sideboard and selected a biscuit, still warm from the hearth. She nibbled at it unconsciously, thinking about what her father had just told her.
"We have to leave everything behind. Our home and friends… everything."
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"Yes," her father said unflinchingly. "I’m sorry, but you can take nothing except what you have on at the time. You’re mother has chosen to hide her jewelry on her person and you may do the same. As long as it is hidden under your cloak, for we must not look at all suspicious."
"But Papa, What will happen to all the people that depend on you for their living?" she asked.
Pierre Rochette finished swallowing his last bite of breakfast. He dabbed his mouth on a linen napkin and pushing his chair away from the table, stood up.
"I have set down a letter of explicit instructions which I will leave with Jean-Paul, to be opened after we are safely away from St. Florent. As our overseer he’ll be sure that my wishes are followed and that each person is looked after. Some of the families have lived on Rochette lands for as long as anyone can remember. It is not much, but that is the best I can do for them. You and your mother are my first concern."
Danielle approached her father, placing her hand upon his arm. "We will make it, Papa," she wanted to assure him. He put his hand over hers and patted it.
~ * ~
Later in her room she gazed out the window overlooking the estate. She was soaking in a last, long to be remembered view, at the place that had been her home all her life. She could see the lake in the distance, where her father had taught her to swim. The old tree stump that still carried the scars of her marksmanship from her target practice with her father’s musket. It had not been long, she recalled, before she matched her father’s ability, bringing down her prey with every shot. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned back to her room. She looked forlornly at all the possessions she would be forced to abandon that evening. They could only take what they wore and the few jewels she could carry with her. Her heart was heavy in her chest and tears were barely below the surface. But Danielle was strong of character and would not shame her family in this desperate venture. Material things were not important. Their lives were.
Time sped rapidly until it was the hour she must ready to leave. Suddenly, the finality of their decision to escape was brought home to her full force. She went to a small chest and lifted the lid. Her few jewels left to her by her maternal grandmother lay within it. When she emptied the chest’s contents into a lace handkerchief, her attention was caught by a shiny object in the bottom. It was a small silver dagger, its handle inlaid with mother-of-pearl, sheathed in scarlet velvet. It was one of the few heirlooms remaining that her grandmother had saved from her gypsy ancestors. The Romany dagger reminded her of the time when as a small girl, her grandmother had laughingly teased her about her wild gypsy ways.
Danielle clutched its hilt in her hand and lifted it out into the open, the blade reflecting the light.
The perfect weapon! Now, if she had to defend herself she would have the means. No French dragoon would use her for his own pleasure! She folded the lace handkerchief securely around the jewels and placed them, along with the dagger, into the bodice of her gown. The cold steel blade, its lethal shaft cloaked in velvet, rested reassuringly against her skin. She placed the hooded cloak over her shoulders and walked through the door to join her parents.
She knew she must be brave as they got into the carriage for their ride to the church. Although choked with emotion she blinked back her tears and did not look back as the horses started taking them away from their home.
Dark clouds had filled the sky and a light mist had started to fall. A gloomy dampness covered the countryside. All too soon they reached the village. The carriage moved slowly down the cobblestone street. The King’s dragoons were congregated in different sections, nonchalantly leaning on their muskets, talking and laughing with their comrades. They showed only a vague interest in the town’s people heading for the church.
Danielle held her breath, the snuggly placed dagger making its presence known between her breasts. The carriage passed the soldiers one by one. Danielle shivered, not from the fine mist of rain that dripped from the sky on this dreary evening, but from her fears. She kept her head down, ignoring each of the little puddles as her mind tried to encompass all the ramifications of fleeing her home to face the uncertain future. But she bravely stepped out of the carriage to her father’s waiting hand. Then he took his wife by the arm and started walking toward the church door. Danielle followed quietly behind him. Finally, after what seemed forever, they were at the church, its heavy oaken door drawing nearer with each step. Danielle watched her father’s hand shake as he reached to grasp the handle. Slowly the door opened and the Rochette’s were safely inside.
In the vestibule, Danielle looked around at their friends and neighbors gathered there. The room was alive with the chatter of the villagers, discussing openly the events that had been taking place by decree of the king’s orders. She started to enter the room but her father grasped her arm and before she could speak to anyone, escorted her and her mother through another door that led into the crypts below the church.
"But, Papa, why are we not joining the others?"
"Don’t question me, Danielle," her father said with a tone of command. His hand was firm on the small of her back, forcing her below the church. They entered a room lit with candles hanging in sconces on the wall. It was empty except for a stack of storage crates against the far side and one large painting of the crucifixion adorning another.
Before leaving his family in the lower crypt, Monsieur Rochette whispered to Danielle, "If you hear anything out of the ordinary coming from upstairs, you are to take your mother through this wall. I will show you how to open it."
He bent down, revealing a concealed lever at the bottom, right-hand side of the large painting.
"Oh, Papa," she pleaded, frightened by the tone of his voice. She tugged at his coat sleeve. "Please stay with us! The king’s men won’t cause trouble in the church will they?"
"Danielle!" Her father took her hand and pulled her a short distance from her mother. "I’m depending on you. There is probably no danger, but I don’t like the way the soldiers were acting. I’m going to check with the other men that are leaving to see what is detaining them and I’ll send down the rest of their women and children. It won’t be long before we all must leave if we are going to make it in time to catch the ship."
"Promise me, Danielle! If anything unforeseen happens, you will take your mother and the others through that door and on to the river where Captain Le Homme will be waiting. Don’t wait. Do you understand? You must make haste!" he implored sternly, then instantly caressed her with a cajoling look. "Don’t worry, ma petite, if we become separated I shall join you later." He bent and kissed her on the cheek and whispered. "Danielle, you have always made me proud of you… now I’m depending on you to take care of this." Gently he took her hands in his bringing them to his lips and kissed them affectionately before he released her.
He left Danielle’s side and joined his wife. After a few quick words he embraced her, then turned and hurried up the crude stone steps, two at a time to the chapel above.
The two stood silently in the crypt, the candles throwing eerie shadows against the stone walls, tension filling the air like an oppressive weight.
Danielle went to her mother’s side and put her arm around her shoulders. Monique Rochette stood, staring after her husband, tears flowing down her cheeks, her lips quivering uncontrollably.
Suddenly the silence of the crypt was broken. Danielle heard a commotion above their heads. The sound of muskets firing and women and children screaming in fear, echoed down the steps.
"No!" Danielle cried. "The dragoons have entered the church!" Frantic she started across the floor in the direction of the steps before her mother’s groan of despair halted her. She quickly retraced her steps to her mother’s side remembering her father’s orders. She reached down and tugged at the hidden lever. The only escape from danger lay beyond the secret door.
At first nothing happened and Danielle was overwhelmed with fear that they would be trapped in the crypt. Then very slowly, the wall star
ted to open. Its grinding, scraping noise was barely audible over the sounds of scurrying feet and gunfire mingling with the shouting and screams of the terror from above.
"Mama… quickly!" She pulled on her mother’s arm forcing her to step through the door. They entered the dark, damp entrance of a long corridor, surrounded by crudely-hewn rock walls and ceiling. Monique Rochette was so distraught, her daughter had a difficult time getting her inside the passageway before starting to close the door so the exit would be hidden from view.
Suddenly, Monique jerked away from Danielle’s grasp.
"Pierre! My Pierre!" she wailed, stepping through the door as it swung closed, shutting off the light from the inner room. Danielle desperately reached out, but only grasped the velvet bag holding the Rochette heirloom jewels being shoved at her. She was unable to stop her mother from re-entering the crypt.
"Mama! Mama!" she screamed tracing her fingers frantically around the door searching for a way of reopening it. Finding only a stone wall with her fingertips she sagged to her knees on the cold hard floor.
"Oh no!" she moaned. "Oh my God, no!" Danielle cried until, at last, her tears exhausted, she raised her head and looked about for the first time. Her eyes, growing accustomed to the darkness, barely made out the sharp edges of the rocks protruding from the walls. She could see only a few feet ahead of her, then nothing, only darkness blacker than night. She stuffed the velvet bag down her bodice to join her own small collection.
Her natural sense of reason and stubborn determination brought her to the only possible conclusion. She couldn’t remain here forever. Echoing in her ears she heard her father’s last words.
"You have always made me proud of you…"
She knew she had to get to the river. If her parents escaped the church they would join her there.
Slowly she stood, wiping the remainder of her tears away. Danielle cautiously began to inch her way down the dark tunnel. The hair on the back of her neck prickled at the sounds of rats scurrying ahead of her in the darkness. The only other noises were the echoes of her own feet, the sounds of her sharp breathing and dripping water which she encountered now and again with her hands, feeling her way down the long dank corridor.
The Gypsy Witch Page 2
