“He can see that?” Cassie said with surprise.

“Oh, yes, he was famous for it. When he had a parish, young wives would come from miles around to see if he could confirm their hopes. I never heard him to be wrong, either.” She put a protective hand over the modest curve of her belly. “He thinks I shall bear a son, though he isn’t so accurate predicting whether it will be a boy or a girl.”

Cassie had heard of midwives who were very good at identifying pregnancies. She supposed that a wise and observant old priest could have similar talents.

A tall, broad young man with dark hair and a missing left hand swung into the kitchen, his expression ready for trouble. “Jeanne!”

He moved behind her and put his right hand on her shoulder. “Is this female upsetting you?” Jeanne’s husband wasn’t much older than she, but he looked capable as well as protective. The missing hand explained why he wasn’t in the army.

Jeanne laid a hand over his on her shoulder, but before she could reply, Grey arrived. Cassie studied him, thinking how very good he looked, even with the narrow moustache. He was still lean but he no longer looked bony, and he had an air of authority that was real, not the officiousness of Monsieur Harel.

“It’s all right, Pierre,” Jeanne assured him. “This fellow says he’s the Englishman who was imprisoned beside Père Laurent, and that he’s come to free my family.”

“Madame Boyer said the Englishman had golden hair,” Pierre said suspiciously.

“I dyed my hair brown to be less conspicuous.” Grey smiled a little. “There are parts of my body where the natural hair color is visible, but we’ll have to withdraw to another room so I can show you without offending the ladies.”

Pierre flushed. “Say something in English,” he ordered.

Not missing a beat, Grey switched to English and said, “Père Laurent is the wisest, kindest man I have ever known. I would not have survived ten years in a dungeon if not for him. I needed him far more than he needed me.”

Pierre recognized the sound of English even if he didn’t speak it, so he gave a short nod. “What makes you think you can free Jeanne’s family from Castle Durand? The castle alone is difficult, and Durand has brought in guards for protection.”

Speaking for the first time, Cassie said, “We saw the guards last night when we scouted the castle. It would be useful to know how many there are.”

Pierre’s wary gaze moved to her. “Who are you?”

“I am called Madame Renard.”

Jeanne nodded recognition, but remarked, “My mother said you were older.”

“I have some skill in changing my appearance,” Cassie explained. “Have we convinced you we are who we say? I don’t blame you for being cautious.”

Jeanne glanced up at her husband, their gazes meeting. After a moment of silent communication, Pierre said, “You seem genuine. But what do you think you can do to rescue five people from a well-guarded castle? It would take an army to break in!”

“We do have a plan,” Grey said. “But we need more information. First, are you sure they’re being held there? And if so, are they in the dungeons?”

Jeanne got to her feet, looking strong, hopeful, and quite like her mother. “If we are to discuss such matters, it should be over food. Your dinner waits, Pierre. I have soup, so there will be enough for us all.”

Grey’s stomach noisily agreed with the suggestion, which broke the tension. Though Cassie’s stomach was more discreet, she was also hungry. Their breakfast that morning at the barn had been bread, cheese, and water.

Jeanne proved herself her mother’s daughter by producing thick bean soup, fresh bread, cheese, and a pork pâté. Cassie tried not to gobble greedily.

Even if the Duvals ended up telling their visitors to go away, at least Cassie and Grey would be well fed when they left.


Chapter 44

When appetites had been satisfied, Jeanne pushed her plate away and fixed her gaze on her guests. “You want to free my family. What can we do to help?”

“As I said earlier, we must be sure they are alive and held at Castle Durand,” Grey said seriously. “Have you been allowed to visit your parents?”

She shook her head sadly. “I have not seen them, but Pierre has a cousin who works in the castle. She says they are there and she has spoken with them through the windows, which are very narrow and near the ground. She said they are in two cells, my mother and sister together, and right next to them my father, Père Laurent, and my brother. Not happy, but not unwell, though it is hard on Père Laurent.”

Grey felt almost dizzy with relief at the knowledge that his worst fear, that they were already dead, hadn’t happened. “Have they been charged with a crime?”

“My father and I went to speak with the local magistrate about them,” Pierre replied. “Père Laurent had been charged with treason, and the Boyers are being investigated as partners in his crime.” The young man snorted with disgust. “It is absurd and the magistrate knows it, but he said that so far, Durand hasn’t broken the law.”

Again, this was as Cassie had speculated. Giving thanks that he was partnered with a woman who really understood France, Grey asked, “Did your cousin say how many guards have been brought in to protect the castle?”

“A dozen and a sergeant. They are privately hired guards, but all were soldiers, my cousin thought.” Pierre’s expression was skeptical. “You think you can challenge and defeat so many? Do you have a squad of English soldiers hidden nearby?”

“No squad, and no straightforward attack.” He nodded toward Cassie. “My lady fox will explain.”

“We intend a diversion to draw the attention of the soldiers,” Cassie said. “While they are busy with the diversion, we’ll climb the castle wall and go to the dungeon windows. With the right tools, we should be able to open one of the windows and help the prisoners out.”

“I will skip most of the questions your statement raises and ask what diversion you have in mind,” Pierre said tartly. “It will have to be substantial in order to draw more than a dozen men away long enough to break into the castle dungeons.”

“Explosive grenades,” Cassie said calmly.

Pierre and Jeanne gaped at her. His, “Have you grenades with you?” clashed with his wife’s, “Aren’t they dreadfully dangerous and unpredictable?”

“They are indeed dangerous,” Cassie admitted, “but that’s why they’re useful. I brought with me enough black powder and fuse to make a couple of dozen grenades about the size of a large apple.” She demonstrated with one hand.

Pierre looked dubious. “Will they be strong enough to breach the castle wall?”

“We don’t want to take down a wall, just the two gates, and we certainly don’t want to hurt any of the castle servants like your cousin,” Grey explained. “But if a dozen or so are tossed over the wall at different places, they will create a diversion.”

Beginning to look intrigued, Pierre said, “Grenades are gunpowder packed in a metal casing, aren’t they? Did you bring the casings?”

Cassie shook her head. “They would be too heavy, and far too conspicuous. When we were here before with Père Laurent, your mother gave me apple brandy from a sturdy little pottery jug. My hope is that you have more such jugs that can be used as casings. Pour in gunpowder, add a fuse, cork the jug, and voilà! A diversionary weapon.”

By this time, Pierre was staring at Cassie with open awe. But his brain hadn’t stopped working. “Can the two of you throw enough grenades over the wall quickly enough for the effect you want? Much running and throwing will be required if the grenades are to explode about the same time.”

The young man had put his finger on one of the plan’s weaknesses. Cassie replied, “I’ll aim to make the fuses last about ten minutes. Timing grenades is difficult, though.”

“What if a fuse goes out, or the guards see them burning and realize what is happening?”

She shrugged. “That might happen. We must hope that enough grenades will go off about the right time to create the confusion we need.”

“You need more grenade throwers.” Pierre grinned. “I throw very well.”

“No!” Grey exclaimed. “You can’t help us.”

Pierre flushed. “Because of this?” He held up the stump of his left arm.

“Of course not. That won’t interfere with you throwing,” Grey said. “But it’s vital you not be associated with this in any way since you are the first people who will be suspected of helping them escape.”

“He is right.” Jeanne laid a hand on his right arm. “We must be above suspicion. I have an idea for that. The magistrate is a cousin of my mother’s.” She grinned. “We are all related hereabouts. He has been advising us about the legal situation. On the night of your plan, we can ask him to meet us at the tavern in St. Just du Sarthe. We will buy him one of Madame Leroux’s fine dinners and he can tell us if he has had any luck inquiring of his superiors about the legality of arresting my family.”

“That is another question,” Pierre said. “Even if you free them, where will they go? They cannot return here as long as Durand is after them.”

“I know. We have found a temporary place for them to stay while we decide what is best. After that …” Grey spread his hands in a very French gesture. “If necessary, I will take them all the way to England. This war will not last forever.”

He avoided Cassie’s worried gaze. They had discussed this repeatedly on the journey. Getting the two of them out of France had been a challenge. Seven people would be far more difficult. But he would damned well do his best to ensure that his friends were safe and free.

“I suppose you are right that I shouldn’t be part of your raid on the castle,” Pierre said with regret. “But I can find other men who will be happy to help you.”