V: Broken Legs or Jaw, Your Choice
Chapter 1: The Apology
L’Omino
the dwarf’s hate for Father Signoret burned him like a hot iron. To try to
quench the fire, he decided to use the scene at the theatre to strike at his
Jesuit foe. Slyly he pointed out to his mistress, the Comtessa di Montefusco,
that the Jesuit’s rash action at the theatre had eclipsed any notice of the
Comtessa by the audience.[i]
Stung at the slight, even if inadvertent, the Comtessa described the incident
in a most unfavorable light to her fellow maids of honor and to her patron,
Marie de Medici, the Queen Mother. The Queen Mother was not amused by the
Jesuit’s rash behavior, but she decided that now was not the time to make her feelings
known. The planned discussions with her son took precedence over the Jesuit’s
faux pas.
The
night before Father Signoret’s apology the actors of Binet’s Grand Troupe of
Players invited Norbert to a going away party celebration and at the Duck and
Frog,[ii] a
tiny tavern with four tables for sitting and standing room at the bar and side
counters suitable for a dozen additional patrons. The troupe filled all the
tables and they kept the staff busy ordering round after round of drinks and
Madame Vieillissement, the gray-haired owner, was so pleased she almost smiled.
The
troupe had good news. Somehow the Impresario had found a new benefactor who
wanted the troupe to immediately put on another show. Gerta suggested that
Norbert must be lucky for the troupe since they had never gotten a new show
lined up so quickly. Their benefactor, a wealthy young man dressed in
expensive, flamboyant clothing, had agreed to pay for the dinner and he
liberally tossed tips to all the staff at the restaurant. The young man wanted
them to perform the comedy, Les
Escolliers (The Stairs) by Pierre de Larivey, a play that had been
published in French in 1579 so there would be no need to write a new play or
even to translate and revise an old one which pleased everyone except the
troupes playwright.
For
some reason that night the wine went straight to Norbert’s head and soon he
felt dizzy and was swaying in his seat. Time seemed to pass in odd jumps and
skips with gaps of blackness between the bits of noise and color. After the next
gap the swaying was accompanied by a rumbling sound and a bumping like a rough
wooden wheel on cobblestones. The next time Norbert noticed his surroundings the rumbling had
stopped and he felt cold, his wrists and ankles felt like ice. Norbert felt a sting
as someone repeatedly slapped his face. He heard a voice echoingly say.
“Wake
up. Wake up you hulking peasant!”
Norbert
tried to reply but all that came out was a slurred, “Whaaa?”
“You
will listen and remember.” The voice continued in a gloating tone. “You will
remain alone and imprisoned here in the dark except for when you are brought
out like a trained mastiff to fight for your life. You can fight or you can
give up and die. And eventually you will die…and when you do, I will be sure to
have your mangled corpse sent to your cousin, Gaston.”
The
voice sounded familiar and Norbert tried to see the speaker. But his eyes just
wouldn’t focus. He tried to move closer, but his legs and feet wouldn’t obey
him. It was as if he was frozen in place. He tried harder to move, but the room
began to sway again and he fell into a cold dark pit.
Despite the snow and cold winds outside, inside the Church of Saint Germain l’Auxerrois was warm and crowded[iii] on Sunday January the 7th. The crowd was there because his Majesty had decided to attend mass this morning in person. As was usually the case, a select group of courtiers accompanied Louis XIII and seated with the King was Cardinal Armand de Richelieu. The blessing was given by the King’s half-brother the Bishop de Metz. Father Signoret found a seat in the rear of the church. With him were Father Vargas, a fellow Jesuit who was there as the eyes of the Provincial Father and Signoret’s cousin Guy de Bourges. Guy had recently been approved for admission to the noble Order of the Holy Ghost, though his actual investiture would not occur until later in the month. Gaston was also at mass dressed in his uniform as the Captain of the Cardinal’s Guards. With the uniform, he had also worn the elegant sword he had been given by the Prince de Cröy along with his Spanish vizcaina. Gaston did not sit with his friends, as he was there in attendance on Cardinal Richelieu. The only one missing was Norbert, who was unaccountably missing. No doubt he went carousing with his actor friends and lost track of time…or even the day, Gaston thought.
As
the mass ended, Father Signoret quickly went outside. He was accompanied by
both Guy and Father Vargas. As Gaston came out of the church, he saw Signoret
in the middle of the main arch kneeling on the top of the step with his arms
held outstretched as he faced Baron Villemorin. The Baron leaned rather stiffly
against one of the main pillars of the portico. As Signoret began to speak, the
Baron folded his arms across his chest.
“Oh
dear Lord,” Father Signoret began, “forgive me for my sin of anger and for having
struck my neighbor, the Baron Villemorin, at the theatre while in the midst of
my anger. Oh, gentle Jesus, meek and mild, please help your servant to control
his temper and to avoid the sin of anger in the future.” After making his
public confession of his errors and asking Gods help in controlling his temper
in the future, the Jesuit then apologized directly to Baron Villmorin.
Villemorin
replied, “Your conduct was inexcusable.”
“Yes,”
Signoret said. “I have no excuse therefore I apologize fully.”
Angrily,
Villemorin paused, then said. “Very well then. I must accept your apology.” As the
Baron turned to leave, Gaston stepped forward blocking his path. As he saw
Gaston, arrayed in the brand new uniform of the Captain-Lieutenant of the
Cardinal’s newly created Red Guards, Villemorin realized that there was one
thing he had not considered about his demand for a very public apology by the
Jesuit. By arranging for an apology in public at a set time, he had given that
peasant Gaston the chance to challenge him in public. Not only in public, but
possibly even in front of the King. The Baron had to get out of here as soon as
possible.
While
standing firmly in Villemorin’s path, Gaston said, “Ah Baron V…your pardon, My
Lord. I meant to say, Baron Villemorin. I was sorry to have missed you
at the theatre the other night milord. I had hoped to discuss the ending of the
play with you in some detail. I was led to understand that you were even involved
in its composition.”
Villemorin
angrily replied. “I had nothing to do with that trash.”
“Ah,
you did not write the ending,” Gaston said. “No doubt you had some other end in
mind. Well your lack of involvement does explain the play’s popularity with the
audience. Their response was most gratifying to the playwright. You may not be
aware, My Lord, but I myself contributed a few lines to the script,” Gaston
cocked his head to the side and said, “‘The Soldier placed his hat upon his
head, drew his bright sword and laid his foeman dead.’ The audience
particularly loved that line, My Lord.”
“I
have no time nor interest in bandying words with you,” Villemorin interrupted.
Gaston
replied, “No doubt My Lord has some pressing engagement. Something that
requires him to run away…from me?”
“What
do you mean by that?” Villmorin asked.
“Only
that My Lord Baron is quite adept at avoiding my challenge,” said Gaston.
“I
am a baron of France. My family have been knights and nobles for centuries. I’m
not going to duel some jumped up peasant with a sword,” Villemorin said
angrily.
“I
am not a peasant. I am a soldier of France and the Captain-Lieutenant of the
Red Guards, a company in the Maison du Roi. As my ancestry was good enough for
King and Cardinal, it should be good enough for a baron of France…My Lord,”
Gaston said.
“Then
I accept,” said Villemorin.
Gaston
said matter of factly, “My second is the Chevalier de la Sainte-Marie du Bois.”
“I
do not believe I know that gentleman,” Villemorin said.
“Once
again My Lord you have mistaken the gentleman’s identity. The Chevalier is
known to you. He is none other than Monsieur Guy de Bourges,” Gaston said.
“My
Lord Baron,” Guy said, as he stepped forward and bowed.
“My
second is Monsieur du Frugereix,” Villemorin said. “You may find him at the
Hotel de Condé. And now, adieu.”[iv]
“Adieu
My Lord,” Gaston said as he swept off his hat and bowed in a ragged imitation
of Guy’s signature bow.
Guy
raised his eyebrow and wondered, is he
imitating me or mocking me?
When
Norbert regained consciousness he realized two things: first, his head felt
like it was being hammered by a pair of enthusiastic blacksmiths and second, he
was manacled to some kind of wall. I
wonder if this is a nightmare. He inhaled thorough his nose and caught the
scent of damp stone, moldering straw, and ordure. Then he tried pulling to free
his arms and legs. He heard the clanking of heavy chains, but the fastenings
didn’t budge. The exertion made the pain in his head even worse and he realized
that his mouth was dry and he had a bitter taste on his tongue.
No. Not a dream. I am in a
real prison. Dear God, I hope it is not a prison of the Inqusition. Ah, but
good Father Signoret told me that the Inquisition can’t operate in France. Our
King won’t let them. Good then, it’s not the Inquisition. Unless I’m not in
France?
That
was a worrying thought. Norbert tugged harder against his bonds, but the
exertion triggered terrible pains in his head. I shall have to try again later when my head is not so sore. I’m so
thirsty I wish someone would bring me some water and a loaf of bread. He
looked around the cell. It was unlit, but enough light came from the crack
beneath the door and from the viewing slit in the door itself that he could
clearly make out the dimensions of the room. It seemed to be roughly square and
approximately eight feet on a side. The ceiling was low enough that he could
feel the stones above him brushing the hair on the top of his head. The cell
seemed to be fashioned of rough stone and there seemed to be a hole in the
floor in one corner.
“Oh
ho!” Norbert said to himself. “So that is where that stench is coming from. A
latrine, I hope it connects to a sewer. I’d hate to have the contents for a companion.
And I hope someone will come along and free me so that I can use that latrine.“
“Hello!”
Norbert called. “Is anyone else here?
“Shut
up!” said a harsh voice.
“Hey,
where am I?” Norbert asked.
“You
are in Hell,” a second voice said.
“In
Hell? I’m sure you must be mistaken,” Norbert said. “This seems to be a prison
of some sort, but certainly it is not Hell. “
“This
is the pit of despair and you are now one of the damned who are trapped here
with us,” the voice shrilly lamented.
“Shut
up you damned coward!” said the harsh voice.
“But
we are all damned. Don’t you see…”
“What
I see,” interrupted the harsh voiced man, “is that when we are in the pit
together, I will make you pay for every croaking word you say now. Each word
will cost you a broken bone. And as I break your bones, I will laugh and remind
you of this day.”
The
light brightened slightly and the voices ceased. At first it was quiet, then
Norbert heard the sound of a single set of footsteps. Then the footsteps
stopped.
“Psst.
Psst. Hey Giant. Is that you?” Although it was a bit gravelly, the voice was
that of a woman. Norbert heard a scratching sound and a soft knock at the cell
door. “Giant? Answer me, damn you. Are you in there?”
Norbert
realized that the gravelly voice was that of Jeannie Artois. “I am here.” He
said. “Jeannie, is that you?”
“Of
course it’s me. Who else would be riskin’ her skin to come talk at you, you big
lump.”
Jeannie
told Norbert that he was in an underground, no rules, fighting pit run by La
Buse and the Buzzards. Norbert tried to talk Jeannie into setting him free. But
she said that she didn’t have the key and that there were quite a few guards in
between Norbert and freedom. What’s more Jeannie knew most of the guards and
was friends with some. She was reluctant to kill them herself or even to help
Norbert to kill her fellows.
Seeing
as he was making no progress with this approach, Norbert asked Jeannie to get
word to his friends Guy and Father Signoret and to his cousin Gaston. Fearing
that she might be placed under arrest, Jeannie was reluctant to seek out Gaston
at the Louvre. But she agreed to get in contact with at least one of the three.
“And then maybe he can contact the others?” she suggested. Norbert heard a
crashing sound of metal on metal and Jeannie said, “Quiet! Someone’s coming.
I’ve got to hide, but I’ll be back later when it’s safe.”
A
little afterwards, Norbert heard several sets of footsteps. The light
brightened a little, then he heard a clank as the door to his cell was
unlocked. The light was blinding after the darkness of his cell. In the glare
he could vaguely make out several figures.
A
harsh, croaking voice said, “So, Norbert the Giant. You are as big as they say.
I regret that I did not have a chance to greet you when you visited my Nest, but
now you can have a taste of the hospitality I grant to those that attack me.”
“Who
are you?” Norbert asked.
“Who
am I? Who am I? the voice asked, rising in pitch and volume. “All Paris
trembles at my name. I am Jean Orande!”
“La
Buse?”
“I
do not care for that name and I will thank you not to use it.” La Buse said and
scowled.
Squinting
against the glare, Norbert could see that the speaker had a heavy brow, a
beak-like nose, and beady, light-colored eyes. He looks like he wants to stab someone, Norbert thought. And that someone is probably me. As his
eyes became used to the light, Norbert could see that La Buse was accompanied
by four large bodyguards. One of whom, for some reason, was carrying a large
sledgehammer. How odd.
“Graceful
host that I am,” La Buse continued, “I have come to give you a choice. Choice
number one, you can compete in my fighting pit or spend some time with
Jean-Paul here.” The thug with the sledgehammer hefted his tool.
Apparently the one with the
hammer is Jean-Paul, Norbert thought.
“In
which case I will give you a second choice...Broken legs or jaw, your choice?”
La Buse finished with self-satisfaction and apparent bonhomie.
“What
happens if I go into the pit but I don’t fight?” Norbert asked.
“Why
then,” La Buse shrieked, “my guards will have no choice but to spatter your
stupid brains all over the sides of the pit.”
“Well
then I guess I will fight,” Norbert answered. “But I would fight much better
with a large plate of sausages inside me. I am very hungry.”
La
Buse turned back as he was leaving, “Very well,” he sneered. “Win the match and
you will have your sausages.”
Jeannie
felt very nervous. And when she was nervous she talked to herself. “I wish this
giant had friends somewhere more friendly. A cousin in the Louvre what is
surrounded by guards who would be happy to lock up a poor farm girl from
Artois. And if that were not bad enough, this cousin is supposed to be some
kinda’ officer. No I won’t be starting with no guard officer, no mam. All my
mama’s really stupid babies they all died, young. Yes mam they did.”
“A
friend who lives in the Palais Royal what no doubt sips wine with all manner of
counts and dukes and what not. I’d stick out like a sore thumb at shearing
time. No mam. Jenny is not going to go makin’ a fool o’ herself in front of no
dukes and counts and such.”
“I
guess that just leaves the one who is a priest. I hope he don’t ask me how long
it’s been since my last confession, cause I gotta confess I don’t remember,”
she laughed softly. “No mam I don’t.”
Jeannie
rang the bell at the Jesuit Professed House and asked to see Father Signoret.
She was shown into a waiting room. The room was quiet except for an odd ticking
sound that came from some strange object on the mantle. Jeannie looked at it
more closely and noticed something on the front of it was moving. Each movement
occurred with the sound of one tick. Jeannie looked at the object again with
alarm and crossed herself quickly.
She
had barely finished when a tall, black clad figure stepped into the room and introduced
himself as Father Signoret. Jeannie told him about Norbert being in a cell in
the pit. Signoret asked her to go with him while he went to get his friends,
but Jeannie suggested that they all meet at a tavern somewhere instead and
Father Signoret agreed.
Father
Signoret gathered Guy and Gaston. He explained that they were to meet someone
who could explain Norbert’s absence. Once they reached the rendezvous, Signoret
introduced them to Jeannie and she explained that Norbert was imprisoned in the
Pit and the four began to plan how to rescue him. But first they would need to
learn more about La Buse, his gang, and the Pit itself.
Chapter 2: The Big Fight
Norbert
walked beneath the portcullis and out of the pit. He grabbed a rough towel from
one of the attendants to wipe the blood and sweat from his face and chest. Some
of the blood was his, but not much, thank God. He tossed the soiled towel to
the floor noting the other blood stains speckling the stones and the smell of
sweat and old blood. Even though the bouts were not that challenging several
each night did leave him with a few scratches and bruises. It also made him
tired and hungry. The sausages they gave him weren’t very satisfying and they
tasted like they were filled with grease-flavored sawdust.
Escorted
by a pair of guards, he walked over the grate in the floor, noticing again the
residue of blood caked on the grate despite the buckets of water the attendants
slopped on the floor. He passed beneath an arch into the guard room and nodded
at the guards on duty. One smiled at him and jingled a purse.
“You
were lucky for me again, Giant,” the guard said.
Norbert’s
reply was truculent, “Then why don’t you do me a favor and buy me some decent
sausages?”
The
guards laughed in reply and Norbert’s escort led him back to his cell. As he
passed the cell before his, he noticed that the ranting man who had called this
the ‘Hell pit of despair” had been removed. Another man was now in the cell,
but this fighter was much quieter than the other. As the door clashed behind
him, Norbert said to himself, “At last, some peace and quiet. Now perhaps
Hercule can get some exercise by running up and down my shoulders.” The
pattering of Hercules little feet took Norbert’s mind off his hunger. After a
time, that pleasant activity was interrupted by the sound of a sly voice.
“Pssst.
You there, the Giant. How you doing?”
“Hungry.
They don’t give me near enough to eat and what sausages they do bring taste
like they are half filled with sawdust.”
“Probably
are. La Buse spares no expense, hey? I see they’ve moved Ferme the Cruel next
to you. He’s a bad one alright. Broke Long Thom’s back he did. Say I didn’t
introduce myself. My name is Henri.”
“Mine’s
Norbert,” Norbert said.
“I
know. You’re the Giant from Picardy. I hear you’re strong and tough. So any
tips on your next match? Knowing how long it will take you to knock your
opponent out is valuable information. Someone who could pick the exact round
could earn more than a few sous, if you know what I mean.”
“I’ll
consider that, especially if I can good sausages instead of sous.” Norbert
said. “Say, do you know what happened to that crazy guy who was always saying
we were in hell?”
“Oh,
he was in a match with Ferme the Cruel. I heard Ferme broke nearly every bone
in his body – one bone at a time. Laughed the whole time he was doing it too.
He’s a cruel one alright. Gives me chills just thinking of it.”
After
other fights and other nights, Norbert had another visitor – Armand Patrella. Patrella
was accompanied by a shadowy looking figure dressed in a light gray hooded
cloak that concealed his face. Perhaps
his bodyguard, Norbert thought. He
sure moves like a professional.
Patrella
told Norbert that he had caused Patrella a lot of trouble but that now the time
had come for Norbert to make up for that trouble by helping Patrella to earn a nice
fat profit. Tonight he must make the fight look good but despite that he is going
to lose. He is to throw the fight. “Defeating you will set up your opponent as
a viable challenger for a championship match against Draco le Destructeur.”
“And
what if I don’t lose?” asked Norbert.
“In
that case, I will have you cut down right in the arena. I’ve already bribed the
guards to kill you at my signal.”
“OK.
So you win your bet. But what’s in it for me. I’d like some sausages. Good
ones.”
“If
you are dead you won’t care about any sausages.”
Norbert
considered awhile and then told Patrella, “I see your point. Well it looks like
I don’t have any choice but to do what you say.”
“See
that you do,” Patrella said as he and his gray shadow left.
Gaston,
Mel, Guy, and Father Signoret entered The Pit separately to avoid suspicion.
Mel carried his dagger and club along with Norbert’s broadsword. The others
were armed to the teeth with pistols, sword, and daggers. The Pit was located
in the sub-basement of an abandoned building in the poor part of Paris between
the Porte St. Denis and the Porte Mont-Marthe, It was known in certain circles
as a place to wager on vicious brawls. The fighting pit was stone walled with
the outer portion of the floor covered with a layer of sand. The inner section
had a smooth wooden floor with a central square and circle painted on it. Iron
chains hung from ringbolts fixed into the walls on three sides of the pit.
These were used to secure wild animals for the sort of vicious matches hosted
by the ancient Romans.
Above
the pit, the audience watched the fights from a two-level balcony. The balcony provided
standing room only. A wooden railing lined the edge of the pit to prevent drunken
or over excited patrons from accidentally falling in. Also lined around the pit
were a half dozen alert looking guards: four armed with crossbows and two with
matchlock blunderbusses. The smell of the lit matches blended with the odor of
fear, sweat, blood, and aggression.
The
four spread out moving to cover the six guards. The signal to act was to be
Father Signoret shoving the guard with the blunderbuss into the pit. But first
they needed Norbert to enter the pit. After what seemed an interminable wait, the
giant finally stepped under the portcullis and entered the arena. Facing him
was a familiar figure. The one-eyed ox known as Le Gros Boeuf.
Norbert
grabbed Le Gros Boeuf putting him in a choke hold. Gasping for air, Le Gros
Boeuf ran backwards, smashed Norbert against the wall of the pit, and then
elbowed him in the ribs which broke Norbert’s hold. Norbert hammered punches
into his foe’s midsection then shoulder charged him knocking him to the ground.
Le Gros Boeuf displayed surprising agility for such a fat man. He nimbly rolled
back to his feet then charged Norbert. Taken by surprise, Norbert was knocked
to the ground then frantically rolled away to avoid Le Gros Boeuf’s kicks.
Signoret
saw Norbert in the pit below. He moved next to the guard with the blunderbuss
than said, “Say isn’t that a Spanish gold doubloon down there in the pit?” But
his ruse didn’t’ fool the guard who was used to ignoring noise from the crowd.
So Signoret backed up, drew his sword, stabbed the guard, and shoved him
towards the pit. But the body hung up on the rail, dripping blood down the side
of the wall of the pit. Meanwhile, Guy had noticed that La Buse and four of his
bodyguards were behind his cousin. He drew both his pistols, turned and told La
Buse, “Stand right there and don’t move.”
While
Guy was holding La Buse at gunpoint, Gaston put his hands on the backs of two
crossbowmen and shoved them both into the pit. Mel, saw that the man Signoret
had stabbed was on the edge of the pit, which wasn’t really in the pit so he
decided to wait for a complete signal.
Signoret
drew his first pistol and shot one of the crossbowmen above the portcullis
while Gaston drew his pistol and shot the other crossbowman. Norbert ended his
roll away from La Gros Boeuf by grabbing a crossbow from the body of a fallen
guard and pointing it at his foe. Then hearing the shots above him, he narrowly
rolled aside as shot from a blunderbuss turned the crossbow into kindling,
peppered the wall next to him, and rang off the portcullis bars. Seeing the
first two crossbowmen fall and hearing the gunshots, Mel thought, Now that was a complete signal. So he
drew his dagger and knifed the guard who had shot at Norbert.
La
Buse said to Guy, “Do you know who I am? You had best put both those pistols
down before I have my men gut you like a trout.”
“Well
your men may try, but as I abhor unnecessary bloodshed, I must warn you that I
am a crack shot. I never miss. These pistols I hold were given to me by the
Archduchess Isabella for winning the Brussels shooting competition. So Monsieur
Orande, no matter what you tell your men. No matter what you do. I’m going to
spatter your brains all over this room. Yours and the first man of yours who
takes a step near me. So, who is ready to go see God?” La Buse and his men
stood in stunned silence.
“No
one? Good! Now gentlemen, I would consider it a most profound kindness if you
would slowly step backwards throuugh that arch there.”
Signoret
drew his other pistol, carefully aimed at Le Gros Boeuf, and shot him in the
head. The huge man fell to his knees, balancing there for a moment and then
falling face first to the sand. Blood from his wound formed a dark pool around
his head. Above the pit, a figure dressed in a gray hood circled Gaston and
tossed a garrote around his neck. The soldier immediately interposed the empty
pistol in his hand between the garrote and his neck. Safe for the moment from
suffocation, Gaston snapped his head back smashing it into the face of the man
in gray who staggered backwards releasing the garrote. Seeing his cousin in
trouble, Norbert stood and ran towards the chains hanging from the high wall
below Gaston. He grabbed hold of the chains and began to climb.
Seeing
that Mel had just stabbed a guard, two of the bystanders near him attacked him
with their fists. Mel turned and efficiently stabbed the first attacker then
ducked to avoid the second foe.
Signoret
noticed three men charging towards him. As they leveled their pistols, he
dodged amongst the bystanders. Several shots rang out clipping his hat and
killing a bystander. Across the pit, the gray-clad man drew his sword and swung
at Gaston who parried with his pistol then slammed the barrel against the
blade. This allowed Gaston to grab the gray man’s sword and turn it against
him. Hanger sword in one hand, pistol in the other Gaston shifted into Morgan’s
style as he aggressively attacked the gray man driving him backwards with blows
of sword and pistol butt. As Nobert pulled himself up onto the balcony, Mel
stabbed his second opponent.
Guy
backed La Buse and his men into the office past the archway and barred the door
from the outside. Then he quickly returned to the outer room. Signoret engaged
two of his opponents using the circling precision of the Spanish style he
stabbed first one and then the other opponent. But the third man, drew a second
pistol and fired at the priest at point-blank range. Although his reflex jerk
of his head saved him from a pistol ball to the face, the flash of the powder
struck him, blinding him.
The
gray-clad man continued his retreat by turning and running away from Gaston who
turned and greeted his cousin tossing him the gray man’s sword. Gaston switched
to a loaded pistol then drew his rapier as Mel stabbed his second attacker. Sword
in hand, Norbert scanned the room, across the pit he saw Signoret standing
blindly waving his sword as some brigand carefully drew his blade and stepped
towards the Jesuit to stab him. Quickly Norbert threw his sword transfixing the
brigand who fell into the pit.
Seeing
his cousin moving awkwardly, Guy ran forward and grabbed Signoret by the arm. The
others quickly joined them. Norbert picked up the Jesuit and, with Mel flanking
him, carried Signoret bodily from the room while Guy and Gaston brought up the
rear and covered their retreat with loaded pistols.
Outside,
Guy summoned Fabre from where he had been hiding. The apothecary rinsed the
Jesuit’s eyes with a cleansing solution. Though his vision was still a little
blurry, he could see again. He paused a moment for a brief prayer of
thanksgiving then he said, “I think it is time we left this place.” And so they
did.
[i]
Does L’Ominio persuade the Comtessa to complain? [Chaos Rank=6 for all related
actions]; Likely (17) Exceptional YES. Does she complain to the Queen Mother
rather than take direct action? Very Likely (76) YES.
[ii]
The Duck and Frog is tavern (T19).
[iii] King Louis XIII attends
Mass with a few of his courtiers; the Queen, Queen Mother, and Prince Gaston
are not present.
Cardinal
Richelieu attends. His Guards include Rémy
Janvier; also in attendance mis an elderly man, Jean-Noël Suchet.
Bishop
de Metz does not say Mass but he gives the
blessing.
Father
Vargas is sent witness Father Signoret’s
apology.
[iv]
The duel will be after Candlemas (Feb 2). Gaston insists on to the death; Villemorin insists on a cavalry
duel since both their companies are cavalry. This is acceptable to all.
