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Chapter Twelve
It was broad day and they had covered over a dozen miles and the horses needed to rest. Sam had driven off the road into a clearing in a wood, where stood a little cottage with smoke issuing from its chimney. They stirred their cramped limbs and, while Sam saw to the horses, Jay and Lisette went inside to be greeted by a tiny old lady with a clay pipe clamped between her lips. Jay introduced himself and presented Lisette.
‘The young man told me to expect you,’ she said, referring to Joe, who would have been flattered to be described as young, but to the bent old lady he probably was. ‘Did all go well?’
‘Yes, but later than we intended.’
‘You will be in some haste, then. I’ll pack food for you to take with you while your man changes the horses. I have obtained a spirited four for you, but they are not well matched. I hope your driver can manage them.’
‘I am sure he can. You may have a visit from three maréchaussée shortly who will not be all they seem. Do not be alarmed. Their leader calls himself Harry Portman—’
‘Oh, I know that gentleman of old. He always stops here on his way to and from Paris. I never know what guise he is going to adopt next.’ She cackled and took a kettle off the fire and poured boiling water into a pot containing tea leaves.
‘If anyone else asks after us…’
‘I shall send them in entirely the wrong direction. You may trust me, monsieur.’ She poured tea into tumblers for them and for Sam who came in to say the new horses were ready to go. A few minutes later Jay and Lisette took their seats again, each clutching a package of bread, cold chicken and ham. Sam climbed on the driver’s seat and they were off again.
The horses had never worked together before and the ride was an erratic one and Sam had to work hard to keep them in line. Lisette clutched Jay, who put his arms round her. They laughed, glad to be together and free and they did not care how rough the ride was. But they were slower on this section than they had been on the last.
‘They should have caught us up by now, surely?’ Lisette said. ‘You do not think something dreadful has happened, do you?’
‘No, my darling. They may have been held up at the barrier, but you may trust Harry to see them safely through.’
‘Supposing Michel became ill and could not ride? He was starved and beaten in prison and is very weak.’
‘He is stronger than he looks. Be patient.’
‘I remember you saying that to me before.’
‘Yes, but this time you are going to heed me because you have learned to trust me, is that not so?’
‘Yes, Jay,’ she said meekly, making him laugh.
Their second stop was at a posting inn where the proprietor laughed at their horses until the tears ran down his face. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ he said. ‘Where did you find those beauties?’
‘In a field,’ Jay said. ‘Ours were spent. You should have fresh cattle for us, bespoken by my servant, Joe Potton.’
‘That I do. You are late.’
‘Are you surprised?’ Jay said, nodding towards the horses that were being unharnessed.
‘That I’m not. Do you want to eat? Boiled fowl and onions, very tasty it is, too.’
Jay looked at Lisette. ‘What do you say?’
‘Yes, let us rest a while. It might give the others time to catch up.’
‘Not only our friends,’ he said.
‘Can’t we risk it? We are a long way from the capital.’
‘Very well. Landlord, we will have some of your fare.’
They were sitting down with Sam in the dining room when they heard horses galloping into the yard. The landlord went out to greet the newcomers, while the three diners looked at each other, hardly daring to breathe. Jay reached out and put his hand over Lisette’s.
‘How goes it, Jean, you old rogue?’ The voice was undoubtedly Harry’s and the listeners broke into broad smiles of relief. The next minute he came into the room with his arm about the shoulders of the landlord. They were followed by Nat and Michel.
Lisette ran to embrace her brother and dragged him to sit beside her at the table where they were joined by Harry and Nat.
‘What happened?’ Jay asked Harry as the landlord brought more food. ‘Did you have any trouble?’
‘Only from the mob. The news is all round Paris. The King is going to be put on trial for treason. It’s all to do with that Armoire de Fer business. Even those who were against trying a monarch have come round to the idea. The population, or at least the noisy half of it, is ecstatic. They are out on the streets, singing, dancing, looting and carrying effigies of Louis and models of a guillotine. We could not get through. And when the crowd saw our uniforms, they crowded round and wanted to know if we had been at the Temple, guarding him.’
