Page 31 of A Fierce Wind

Freddie fought the urge to pull Zoé into his arms and soothe her grief. Instead, he placed his hand on her shoulder as an older brother might. “Those priests are now in Heaven, Pigeon, a place Rossignol will never see.”

Cadoudal led them down a cobblestone street away from the city’s center to where there were fewer republican soldiers. As the street widened, they came to a building made of warm golden stone with a tavern opening onto the street. A row of black shutters marched across the front like soldiers at attention. “Ours,” said the Chouan leader. “A safe place to pass the night.”

From what Freddie could ascertain, the customers of the tavern, if not the inn, were farmers and tradesmen who, at the moment, were sitting around drinking wine. Were they all Chouans, royalist fighters? He wondered. Several men, slouched over their tankards, looked up as Cadoudal entered and nodded in recognition.

The Chouan leader acknowledged them with a dip of his head and strode to the bar. In French, he addressed the proprietor, a rotund man of middle years, a bald head and a large mustache. “Good sir, I hope this day finds you well. My friends and I have traveled far and require rooms for a night, perhaps two.”

The man busied himself wiping down the top of the wooden counter, glancing up at Cadoudal for a brief moment. “Bien sûr, I have several chambers on the top floor you can have.”

A look passed between the Chouan leader and the proprietor that told Freddie this scene had been enacted many times before, but to one who had just strolled into the tavern, it would appear a first encounter.

The proprietor handed Cadoudal a handful of keys and waved him to the stairs at the back of the tavern.

“But where am I to sleep?” Zoé asked when Freddie followed her into the chamber and closed the door behind them.

Freddie’s mouth hitched up in a grin. “Here with me, of course.”

“With you!” She surveyed the room, noting the small bed that could accommodate two only if they slept close together, a side table with basin and pitcher, and a table and two chairs. She knew travelers’ inns often required guests to share beds but she had never done so, not even with her aunt. Her uncle had sufficient homes so that they rarely frequented inns and, when they did, they were fine establishments.

Freddie shook his head. “Not in the same bed, Zoé, but neither will I leave you alone. ’Tis the floor where I’ll make my bed. Erwan and Gabe will guard the door.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he said, “Count yourself fortunate not to be sleeping in the woods.”

She let out a breath. “Oui, I suppose you are right. If it were anyone else but you, Freddie, I would refuse the arrangement.” Resigning herself to the awkward accommodations, she asked, “So, when are the Chouans to rescue the child?”

“Tonight when few lanterns light the square and the guards are tired and about to change shifts. Some of the Chouans will appear as their replacements.”

“They can do that?” she asked, bewildered. “Transforming a Chouan into a republican guard would take a miracle.”

“Apparently they are confident they can. They know the routine of the guards and they have the proper uniforms. I don’t wonder they have posed as the guards before.”

Zoé removed her brush from her satchel and shedding her hat, took down her hair and began to brush the dust from the long strands, all the while thinking of the danger they would face. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Freddie watching her. She paused in her brushing. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Are you hungry?” Then, without waiting for her answer, he took one of the blankets from the bed and set it next to the fireplace, reminding Zoé he intended to sleep on the floor. They would still be sleeping in the same room, of course. Images of his suntanned chest sprinkled with auburn hair rose in her mind. Did he sleep naked?

“You can stay here and rest if you like,” he said, walking toward the door. “It might be awhile before the proprietor thinks to send up our dinner. I’ll bring food for us.”

She thought of the men she had seen in the common room, a hardened lot who would easily see through her disguise. “If you don’t mind, it might be best.”

“There will be plenty of time before I leave for the rescue for us to eat.”

She set down her brush and faced him. “You’re going with them?”

He nodded. “How could I not? Besides, Erwan wanted to go as well. You needn’t worry. Gabe will stay with you.”

“’Tis not myself I am concerned about, Freddie, ’tis you! Such a reckless venture. Why, ’tis fraught with danger. What is your role to be anyway?”

“One of Cadoudal’s men will lead the group disguised as guards. The Chouan chief would go himself but he fears recognition. I will go with Cadoudal and the rest of his men to wait on the edges of the square should we be needed.”

She chewed her bottom lip, thinking of the planned rescue that would have him facing republican soldiers. “It seems an unnecessary risk with all that lies before us. We have yet to reach even Fougères.” The thought of losing him to a skirmish or worse was too horrible to contemplate. She had tended his wounded body once; she could not bear to see him bleeding again.

He left the door, crossing the distance between them. In a soft voice, he said, “Cadoudal has helped us, Pigeon, and he has promised to set us on the path to Fougères. It didn’t seem right not to participate now when he may need every man.”

She could not let him go alone. “Then I will go as well.” She could at least cover his back.

His face turned rigid. “No, you won’t. And that’s an order.”

Zoé could feel her temper rising. She wanted to argue, to plead with him not to go, but she knew Freddie well enough to know when he got that look, he would not budge. Too, this was his mission and she had promised to follow his lead. Resigned but not liking it one bit, she pressed her lips together and crossed her arms. “You will be careful, oui?”

“Of course,” he said with a nonchalant smile, which only made her fret more.