Chapter Text
Evening descended swiftly on the estate. Servants lit lamps, cooked mushroom stew downstairs, while rattling spoons and pots. Angelique sat by the window and watched the deepening twilight. The last ray of the sun played on the smooth surface of the pond, the first leaves were already falling from the trees, heralding the imminent onset of autumn, and the wind drove them along the paths of the park. They whirled quietly in the light of a cast-iron lantern, dimly glowing near the porch, and sank to the ground, or started dancing, obeying the force of the elements.
How many times had she surrendered to the will of Fate like this? How many times did she fly into the unknown, caught up in a frantic impulse, and then, exhausted, sank to the ground? There was no reliable shoulder for her to lean on, no strong hands that could lift her off the ground, no quiet voice whispering that everything would definitely be all right... No one anymore.
The castle was crowded with servants, noisy with children's laughter, with the antics of Florimon, entertaining his favorite, Charles-Henri, and terribly lonely. Angelique, in all honesty, would have preferred this measured life here to hot days spent in Fez, when she reclined on pillows embroidered with golden threads and gorged on sweet dates. At least there lingered a ghost of hope that a mysterious pirate in a black cloak would come for her, snatch her from the clutches of those faithful servants of Allah, would whisper some fairy tales to her, and she would fall asleep, lulled by his voice and the singing of waves that gently rocked the ship...
Angelique brushed away her tears and stood up: in vain she had been indulging in melancholy, miracles were not going to happen, and it was a sin for her to believe in them. But what else could she do? How else could she survive without faith, love, and home?
The house was, undoubtedly, a good solid house, in which the ghost of Philip lingered in her nightmares, which she so desperately wanted to forget. She could, of course, take her sons and go on a visit to Monteloup, to Denis, but for too long they got used to seeing her as a witch who miraculously escaped the Inquisition and brought a curse upon their entire family... Angelique felt sad that evening, as she went far along the road of her own memories, that she did not immediately hear the clatter of the hooves of a lonely horse and the fussy shouting of the servants. She quickly threw on her shawl and ran out of the room.
As she ran down the stairs, the thought flashed through her that today she had not seen Florimon all day, and had not heard how he returned, but what if something happened? No, she would never become a good mother, never! Biting her lip, she ran out into the courtyard: the black stallion that belonged to Florimon drove into the gate, carrying two riders - her son and Nathaniel - a tall neighbor boy, naive beyond his years.
" My son, why did it take you so long? Is it befitting a nobleman to harass his mother like that!" Angelique let loose with reproaches, but from the expression on the faces of the boys, she realized that her son had been delayed for a reason.
"Mother, there is great trouble, the soldiers are coming here! They have already hosted the Rambour castle and are moving towards us! Hurry up, we must run!"
Shockingly, Angelique started to realize what had happened. The king's dragoons must have been retreating under the onslaught of the Protestant forces. Driven to despair, knowing that they were trapped in forests and swamps, they rushed to familiar places.
"We must go there!" she insisted. "The Rambours need our help."
Together with a young priest, she climbed the hill where the Protestant castle stood. Halfway there, they ran into a wailing bunch of people. It was Madame de Rambour with her children and maids.
"Madame du Plessis, we run to take refuge with you. The dragoons are walking with lighted torches. They are drunk, unbridled. They set fire to our services and, probably, they will rob us."
"Come here, come!" Angelique decided. "Mister Abbot will show you around. I will go upstairs and see what is going on there."
She scrambled up a high spur near the old keep and froze, covered by a wall. The roar of the soldiers who seized the estate was mingled with the heart-rending screams of the tortured men and the shrill screams of the women who were tormented by these brutes. The horn fell silent.
Keeping in the shadows, Angelique carefully crept along the left wing of the castle. Suddenly she came across someone's lifeless body. It seemed as if a huge golden boa constricted the dead man. Leaning over the unfortunate man, she saw that it was de Rambour with a hunting horn over his shoulder. A spear was stabbed into him, which went right through his body, pinning the baron to the ground like a beast killed by the lances of the hunters.
Some people ran not far away. Angelique managed to jump back under the canopy of trees. From there, she looked at the dragoons dancing like red devils: the ballet of plunder, the favorite joy of armies, existing since the time when a man became a warrior.
A hoarse cry erupted from their throats - anticipating entertainment, they pressed against the wall, raising their long halberds up:
"To the peaks, to the peaks!"
Something that looked like a small doll was thrown from above from the window, and it spun in the void. Rebekah!
Not remembering herself from horror, Angelique rushed down through the bushes. When she reached the Castle of Plessis, the servants gathered in front of the gate, gazing at the nearby castle, engulfed in flames.
"Have you seen Rebekah? Or Madame de Rambour? And the baron?"
Angelica made an inhuman effort to keep her face dispassionate.
"They .., took refuge in the thickets. We will do the same now. Quickly, my brave men, take your cloaks, supplies. Where is Barba? Wake her up! Order her to dress Charles-Henri."
“Madam,” said Laviolet. "Take a look!"
He pointed to where many dots of light streamed down the hill between the trees: the torches of the dragoons.
“They're coming here... From The Rambourg Castle."
"They are already here!" one of the servant boys shouted.
A swarm of glowing dots appeared at the end of the large alley. This was another detachment of dragoons ascending to the castle. The soldiers were in no hurry. They could hear them calling out to each other in the distance.
"It is a must that we return to the house and lock all entrances and exits," Angelique ordered, "Do as I told you, do you hear?"
She herself checked to see if the front door had been properly blocked with thick beams, and examined the bolts on the heavy wooden shutters of the first-floor windows.
"Bring weapons here! Stand between the windows!"
The Abbot de Lediguierre calmly drew his sword. Malbran arrived with an armful of pistols and muskets.
"Where did you get this from?"
"Ah, Madame, I saved up a little in reserve, in anticipation of riots."
"Thank you, Malbran, thank you!"
The coachman began to distribute muskets to the young men. He even handed several pistols to the maids, and now they convulsively gripped the heavy handles with trembling fingers.
“If you don’t know how to handle the gunpowder, my dears, you can always grab this thing by the barrel and hit it in the skull."
Madame de Rambour with her children took refuge in the drawing-room. From there, she anxiously watched Angelique. There was nowhere to go from the stubborn gaze of her puffy eyes.
“What happened to little Rebekah? And with my husband? Do you know something about this, madam?"
“Please stay calm. Would you like me to help you put the children to bed so they can get some rest? Don't worry about them."
Madame de Rambour slipped from her chair onto her knees and folded her hands in prayer.
"My children, let us pray! The day of sorrow has come..."
"Madam! The dragoons!"
Opening the window, the servants peered out cautiously. In front of the castle, in the light of torches, Montadour flaunted on a heavy horse. Now the captain seemed to Angelique even thicker and more massive. Many days of red stubble made his face so rough that it looked like it was molded from raw clay.
With him were several horsemen and infantry with halberds and muskets. They stood undecided.
"Hey, somebody! Open up!" Montadour growled. "Otherwise, I'll knock the doors down!"
Not a sound in reply. In the meantime, the dragoons also arrived, descending from the castle of Rambourg. These were especially excited remembering how they had been kicked out of here a week ago.
"Set fire to this wolf den!" Montadour ordered in a loud voice, "Let's smoke these damn children out!"