Through the Fire

Peggy Stockdale

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It was a clear night, and silent; a dead shift on the walls of the Chateau Savine. Two guards stood on watch pacing along the stone parapet and trying not to fall asleep on their feet from boredom. The only real sound was that of their armor clattering and their boots on the stone. Even this ceased for a moment as they stopped to speak for a moment, looking out over the shadowed countryside where a few dim lights indicated the farmers’ cottages and the village of Savine in the distance.

Rocking on their heels and laughing at some witty comment about their state of affairs, or lack thereof, both guards failed to notice a dark cloaked figure rush out of the shadows and across the courtyard, toward the entrance to the dungeons. Of course, neither of the men would have given much consideration to someone trying to get into the dungeons, what with nothing being held there but a few peasant farmers who had failed to pay their dues on time. Nothing to be concerned about.

So it was that the guards went on with their duties and the cloaked figure continued unnoticed toward its destination. Silently as possible, the intruder crept down the stone steps that led into a corridor. There were three cells within, to the left side and one at the end. There was loud snoring coming from the guard on watch, who was propped up against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, having fallen further into his doze than originally intended. Dimly lit by torch light, the intruder held up a large rock in gloved hands, waited for the right moment when the guard gave out a loud snort, then swiveled around the corner and brought it down on his unhelmeted skull. He slumped of his stool and unto the floor, not knowing what hit him.

Startled, there was some commotion as a couple of the prisoners rushed to their cell doors to see what was going on. The stranger ignored them, setting the rock down then carefully slipping the ring of iron keys from the guards' belt.

"Now come and look at this, Gaspar," the man in the first cell called back to one of his companion, a little too loudly for comfort. "Someone's come to rescue us!"

He laughed cynically, looking back into the cell, and was suddenly cut off as a gloved hand wrapped around the bar beside his head. The man turned back, and was startled by the sight of two brilliant green eyes starring back at him, locks of dark blonde hair visible in the shadows of the hood. "I would be quiet," spoke a female voice with a foreign accent, low but still authoritative, "or no one shall leave this place tonight."

The farmer's eyes widened, realizing that she spoke the truth. He and his cell mates had been thrown into their prison just over a week before by the Comte de Savine, who had gotten impatient with some of his tenants over late rent payments. It did not concern him that it had been a bad crop that year, nor that the few families living on his land were doing all they could just to keep themselves fed, nor that they had nowhere else to go. The village was reeling from the shortage as well. The families of those imprisoned had been forced to seek refuge there, but the villagers hardly had enough to go around themselves, and so could do little to help them.

The town had been in an uproar when the stranger had arrived a few days passed, sword at her side. Somehow, one young man drunk enough to suggest breaking the detained farmers out of the castle, and had somehow convinced her -a mere passer-by and a foreigner- to help them. She had questioned the wisdom of such an endeavor, and knew that it would probably do them no good in the end, but it was the least she could do, as was her duty.

Now, seeing these men, tired and ragged from worry and grief, she knew that they had no reason to be locked up like this. Their only crime had been trying to fend for their families, and they apparently only wanted to be with them now, starving or no –all this while the Comte slept soundly on down pillows, oblivious to the concerns of the people.

"How did you get in here?" asked the man in the other cell. He was young, not pass twenty-five. "The Comte's men..."

"Are completely unaware of what is going on around them," she replied bluntly, searching for the proper key and trying it in the lock.

"And how do you plan to get us out of here, madame?" the man in the first cell inquired, obviously skeptical of the operation. The other to men in the cell had sat up, regarding their rescuer in near disbelief.

"Very carefully," she replied as the door unlocked with an audible clanking. She hoped that there was no one directly above them.

The door began to swing open, then was pushed out further by the imprisoned farmer. She leaned forward on it and the man seemed amazed by her strength as it closed back on him. "Now," she said, commanding their attention. "There is a cart waiting for you near the woods. I will get you out, and they will get you away. But, you must be absolutely silent and follow my instructions exactly or else you will not get two steps away without an arrow in your back."

The two men in the back didn't seem to know if they should move or not, and all were counting on the decision of the one standing at the door, starring through the bars at the strange woman. "And how do we know if we can trust you?" he asked.

"You don't," she replied. "But your wives are worried about you."

That struck a chord, and a few minutes later they were creeping silently -or as silently as possible- through the hallways by the cellars and servants quarters, toward the side gate where Joashin would be waiting for them. Their leader tried her best to keep the five me under control, constantly keeping an eye on the walls above for any over-attentive guard. If they utter but a sound, it will be the death of them all.

Yet somehow, miraculously, they made it to the side gate. One of the men -the young one- was so relieved by the siight of their friend waiting there that he nearly cried out, but was contained by his companions.

Hidden in the shadow of the castle wall, the five men climbed into the back of the wagon Joashin had brought, allegedly carrying supplies. She helped him pull the tarp over the back, making it seem as though it carried nothing unusual, and whispered harshly for the passengers to be quiet.

She looked to Joashin when all was done, and he handed her the reins of the horse they had brought, thanking her. "Merci, madame," he said quietly. "We are forever thankful to you."

"You must still get away unnoticed," she whispered back a she mounted, "but you should be all right. Bonne chance."

He nodded, and watched as she turned her horse and made her way along the castle wall, becoming one with the dark shadows. This was her true purpose in the plan -a diversion while they escaped. She knew the risks, but she feared for their lives much more than her own, and so went along with little fear or misgivings.

The guards had been paying only half attention until they heard horse hooves clomping against the ground outside. "Do you hear that, Renaut?" one asked the other, who was standing over the front gate.

Renaut looked down over the wall, trying to find the source of the sound. "There's nothing out there, Jean," he replied, though still peering down the road from the village.

Jean looked down on the courtyard, just in case it was just one of the other men, or someone from the household come out for one reason or another, but there as no sign of life, as was to be expected at such an ungodly hour.

"It was probably just from the stables," Renaut concluded, dismissing it.

The other wasn't so sure. "Awfully loud for that, don't you think," he said, beginning to walk along the parapet in the direction of the sound. "Unless..."

"...Échappés..." came a raspy, almost drunken voice. The two guards looked into the courtyard to see the prison guard stumble into the light from the direction of the dungeons. "They've all escaped..."

They watched in near astonishment as the man collapsed to the ground, showing a dark patch in his fair hair, then turned abruptly at the sound of horse hooves, only to see it galloping away from the castle, the rider's dark cloak flying out behind them.

"There!" Jean exclaimed, pointing at the rider. Renault ignored him, loading his rifle as fast as he could and aiming it in the same direction. The rider did not look back. "Get'im!"

Renault shot, the sound of the gunfire resounding through the night, and hit the horse in the hindquarters. It reared, throwing the ride from its back, then both fell to the ground. The rider managed to get to up and begin stumbling away before Renault had reloaded the gun and fired again. He smiled in grim satisfaction as the figure lurched in mid step, managed to stay up for a moment, then fell to the ground without a cry.

In the distance, making their way as quickly as possible toward the woods, the escaping cart nearly halted when they herd the gunshots. Their diversion had not been as lucky as they had hoped. It made Joashin's heart sink, and Gaspard feel some guilt for putting the young woman in such danger on their account. No one was supposed to be killed.

But nothing more could be done, and they road off into the darkness, thankful for her sacrifice.

All the commotion had woken several members of the household, some of which came out to see what was going on. A servant gasped to see the guard laying in the courtyard with his bloody head, another rushing out to tend to him. The other guards came from their quarters and were called into action, beginning plans for a search.

Armand de Savine woke among it.

"What is going on here?" his voice roared from the other side of the courtyard, emerging from within in his nightclothes.

Jean tried to explain. "The prisoners have escaped, mon Sieur," he called across the courtyard. "And I think we just got one of them."

The Comte looked shocked. "The peasants?" he questioned. "All of them?"

"Oui, mon Sieur," another guard affirmed, having just checked the dungeons. "They're gone."

There was tense silence as the Comte considered this, then burst into outrage. "Alors, mon Dieu, find them!" he ordered. "And bring the body," he added almost as an afterthought. "Who knows, he could still be alive."

It was Renaut and another who rode out to retrieve the body. The rider hadn’t gotten far, and there was no one else in sight. Probably a diversion. The body lay in a heap, an arm protruding from the dark cloak. The guard knelt down, rolled the body over.

Blood soaked the ground beneath, the bullet having made its way straight through, just right of the heart. However, they had not expected to see it come out just beneath the swell of breasts, nor the long wheat blonde hair beneath the dark hood. What they did not notice, however, was the slight rise and fall of her chest, faint and weak, but there.

"Mon Dieu," he whispered in astonishment. "It's a woman."

And she was still alive.

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