Anne-Claire made a determined gait for the open entry door to Dominique’s prison and as she left, Dominique’s world descended back into deep, impenetrable darkness.
“Wait, Anne-Claire! My intention was not to offend you. Please come back!” Dominique’s panicked cries resonated in the blackness.
Seconds later, Anne-Claire returned wrapped tightly in a black riding cape, wearing it like a sarong. “Is this any better?!” Anne-Claire asked.
“It looks a little strange, Mademoiselle, but yes, it is far better and if you are unfortunate enough to encounter a roughish cad, I dare say your attire will deter him undoubtedly.”
“You wouldn’t want to know what some women wear—or don’t wear—to the public bathing beaches of my time,” Anne-Claire spoke without thinking.
Dominique’s eyes were full of innocent incredulousness. “Does your world encompass immorality to the worst degree if ladies go about publicly naked? And does that not constitute a sin equal to Sodom and Gomorrah? What of these lusts and how do you, such an innocent of ladies, escape them and what does the world come to in the future?!”
Anne-Claire began to see her world in a different light as she tried to explain the excesses and immoral freedoms of her time. It was pointless trying to clarify anything else. Dominique just wouldn’t understand the great advances mankind had taken—and to the depths he had fallen morally.
Suddenly Anne-Claire remembered her iPod, one of mankind’s achievements. “Look, Dominique, this is what is known as an iPod,” Anne-Claire offered the device to Dominique, but she backed away from it in fright. “Don’t be afraid; it won’t hurt you. It stores and plays our favourite rock music.”
“Rock music? What is rock music? Do the stones sing in your era, too?”
“Well, yes, but not the stones you’re thinking of.”
Anne-Claire moved closer and offered the earphones to Dominique, but she flinched, uncertain of the whole explanation. Anne-Claire brushed aside her hair and placed an earphone in her own ear demonstrating the procedure, and when Dominique could see no adverse effect on Anne-Claire, she apprehensively took the remaining earpiece and followed Anne-Claire’s example. Then with a swipe of Anne-Claire’s finger across the tiny screen, Niccolo went to work, sending a pounding screech through Dominique’s eardrum and shocking the young woman so literally she pulled the earphone from her ear in fright and threw it, leaving it bouncing on its tentacle-like wire.
Anne-Claire couldn’t help but giggle and then burst into unrestrained laughter. The sudden hilarity convinced Dominique her peculiar new friend offered her no threat and reached for the earpiece once more.
“May I try again?” Dominique’s courage began to build as she felt safer with Anne-Claire.
Anne-Claire nodded and raised the earphone tentacle to Dominique’s ear, but still feeling unsure she took it from Anne-Claire’s hand, brushing aside her hair and pushed the small phone into place just as Niccolo began to sing Sfidare il Male.
“Mmm... this is quite good, your... rock music,” Dominique began to sing along with Niccolo, rattling the chain as she listened.
Anne-Claire followed the chiming chain and the abusive bruise on Dominique’s arm where the chain had done its nasty work. Dominique could kneel, at best, but the chain wouldn’t allow her to lie down to sleep, causing a growing sense of injustice to rise up in Anne-Claire and turning her efforts to releasing her newfound prisoner friend. “Let me see that chain, Dominique.”
But Dominique was busy enjoying Niccolo’s music and shouted above the clamour, “Excusez-moi, Mademoiselle!”
“I said...!” It suddenly struck Anne-Claire this was exactly how she reacted to her mother when she was trying to communicate over Niccolo’s bawl. Anne-Claire pointed to the chain. “Let’s try and get you free!”
Dominique nodded enthusiastically, but her singing accompaniment didn’t stop as she kept up with Niccolo’s rendition.
*~*~*~*
Jean-François’ glower followed Willy de Bad’s movements as he led Pensive across the bridge spanning Chillon castle’s moat and energetically pushed against the deserted castle’s heavy entry door. With the door ajar just enough for the athletic man to slip in behind, de Bad first tied Pensive to a hitching post before stealing inside the castle walls to begin his search.
Henri was stunned at the interchange between the two competing gentry, while the look on Jean-François’ face as he watched the gallant de Bad enter the castle fortress worried him. “Will the Baron of Rougemont find something to implicate you in foul play, Jean-François?”
“Don’t be absurd, Henri!” The retort was short and sharp, but something was bothering his friend. “I have wasted enough time in a fruitless search for your imaginary nymph, Henri. I have more pressing issues to attend to, so now I must bid you adieu.”
With that, Jean-François threw his torch into the clear lake waters, making it hiss violently until the flame snuffed out and the fire’s light no longer shone. Quickly walking away, Jean-François glanced back at the torch floating lifeless on the surface of the lake and his expression set in a sly grin.
Henri stared after Jean-François as he quickly disappeared down the cobblestone road towards their horses grazing lazily on the lakefront grass. He’d seen that disturbing expression on Jean-François’ features many times before, and usually just prior to some inexplicable and dastardly occurrence in the local area.
Jean-François’ animated... “Hah!” divided the early morning quiet, followed by speeding hooves clacking hurriedly over cobblestones before Jean-François disappeared from view.
Henri glanced up at the towering walls of the Château de Chillon, pondering its secrets and wondering whether he had dreamt the nymph bathing in the lake water. But the disappearance of his best riding cape was evidence enough and for a short time Henri continued his search.
With the summer sun now beaming down over his shoulders, Henri extinguished his flaming torch in the lake water and collected the lifeless remains of Jean-François’ discarded torch floating near the water’s edge, gently tussled by tiny freshwater waves rolling over the pebbly shoreline. Grasping the wooden torch handles and studying the scene, Henri took one last look for evidence of the nymph and then began to amble back to his waiting mount happily feeding on lakeshore grass. Grasping at the reins and then placing his foot into the stirrup, Henri grabbed for the saddle, bounced on the leg still firmly on the ground and threw his weight over the steed’s powerful back. With a heel to the horse’s ribs, the steed responded with a burst of speed and before long, Henri’s downcast image left the Château de Chillon behind, languishing alone in the rising morning warmth.
From a position on a lofty hill, two treacherous eyes watched Henri’s retreat from the castle grounds and then when Henri was out of view, a further scour of the scene made sure he would not be detected. It was time to rid the area of de Bad and the dark underworld secrets of Chillon castle. Secrets that no longer were advantageous to the scheming gentleman’s profit and in fact, could risk his whole estate, jeopardising his good name and implicating him in a treacherous plot if de Bad found the surreptitious labyrinth. But he had a backup plan, an escape route specifically designed for such a situation and it only needed his touch on the balancing mechanism to seal the fate of de Bad and the troubling young beauty he sought.
Stealing inside the castle walls and using de Bad’s exact entry point, the perfidious figure silently drifted about the familiar halls, searching for signs of discovery. A momentary flash of de Bad’s figure against a second-floor window sent the villain diving for cover and crashing heavily to a stone staircase. Lifting his head and rising from bruised knees, the scoundrel explored his surrounds, looking for the tall athletic build of de Bad in successive window frames; but finding nothing of concern, he continued on up the stone staircase and into a stone alleyway before entering the impressive clock tower.
Inspecting the clock mechanism’s massive wooden cogs and rope
drums, the villain’s gaze fell upon the secretive balance lever and the sturdy taut rope leading from beneath the castle’s foundation. With a violent kick from an expensive boot, the safety lock dislodged and the lever crashed to the floor, splintering in half under the massive force straining against the rope, until the rope disappeared down into the bowels of the castle’s underground.
A harrowing rumble echoed throughout the castle structure, shuddering the foundation and swaying the castle towers.
Moments later, de Bad’s figure blocked the exit from the clock tower, breathing fire down on the villain. “What have you done, Jean-François?!” de Bad demanded, reaching for his cutlass.
But before de Bad took another step, Jean-François climbed over the castle wall and dropped four storeys to the lake below.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 65
Anne-Claire used her full force against the heavy clanking chain, trying with all of her strength to budge the iron manacle’s grip over Dominique, but her efforts only increased Dominique’s discomfort and she begged Anne-Claire to cease her painful activities. Holding the iPod above her head and dislodging Dominique’s earpiece, she searched the empty cavern for anything to use against the restraint, but the tomb appeared empty. Small pieces of broken boulder lay scattered over the grotto floor, but when Anne-Claire used a sizeable stone against the chain, the cowardly rock crumbled in her hand. Anne-Claire huffed. She wasn’t getting anywhere with her efforts.
But just then, a muffled boom reverberated down the dark passageway, gripping both girls with intense fear.
“What was that?!” Dominique panicked.
“I don’t know, but I’m sure it wasn’t anything good,” Anne-Claire answered, staring towards the dark passage with wide frightened eyes. Anne-Claire shone the iPod around in the direction the noise had come and started to walk towards the door.
“Please don’t leave me, Anne-Claire!” a forlorn voice begged.
“I have to see what that was all about; don’t worry, I’ll be back.”
Anne-Claire could hear Dominique’s chain rattling in fear as Anne-Claire made her way to the door, but the ambiguous noise was too threatening to ignore. Anne-Claire stepped over the small stream leaking around the door frame and entered the dripping passage but just as she did, she heard another shaking boom followed by a terrified scream and the sounds of rushing water rapidly filling ancient channels and spilling into Dominique’s prison chamber.
She turned her light to face Dominique and all around torrents of water were emptying onto the chamber floor, spewing forth from the dungeon walls and quickly filling the horrendous scene. It seemed her intuitions of being below lake level were correct and for some reason Lac Léman had turned against her and Dominique, now threatening to drown the girls and snuff out their young lives before they’d even left the starting block. Anne-Claire could hear Dominique whimpering, pulling desperately against her confining chain in an effort to free herself, but her endeavours exploded in a frustrated moan as the iron held her firmly imprisoned. Anne-Claire could escape the deathly surge, but Dominique was trapped by the unmoving chain. What should she do: leave Dominique to her fate and save her own life, or stubbornly share in Dominique’s demise?
Screaming through clenched teeth in fit of desperate rage, Dominique could feel the chilling water level rising over her ankles and teasing her, counting down the remaining minutes of her life until the icy water finally reached her mouth and snuffed out the flame of life in a macabre hiss.
By the time Anne-Claire had shaken off the shock and focused on the unbelievable scene, the freezing water had already covered the floor ankle deep and Dominique was in peril. Anne-Claire panicked and tried to wade towards Dominique, but as she attempted to stride through the eddying water, her movements slowed as if she was pushing through grasping mud. Just as if the situation couldn’t become any worse, Anne-Claire’s world twisted and began to spin, flashing through a kaleidoscope of colour until intense pain grasped at her skull and the colour faded into blackness.
“What’s happening?!” she managed to scream.
Overcome with an extreme agony gripping at her brain, Anne-Claire splashed to the floor unconscious, losing her grip on the iPod light and spiralling the gushing antechamber into complete darkness.
*~*~*~*
“Call an ambulance quickly, Maestro!”
Maestro dialled with shaking hands as he leaned around Robere’s lanky frame bent over a young girl. He could see a bloody gash across her forehead and her eyes were open and staring, but her colour was deathly pale. Robere gently checked her vital signs, feeling her neck for a pulse and when he finally found evidence of her life, her heart was racing dangerously, but she appeared to be mouthing something desperately.
“Help... D-o-m-i-n-i-q-u-e,” she rasped.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, you’re okay. Help is on the way,” Robere whispered, smoothing the hair tangled around her bloody, red streaked face.
Just as the Maestro’s smartphone connected with emergency services, a woman entered the dungeon scene calling, “Anne-Claire... Anne-Claire...! Where is that girl?! It’s time to go home!”
Robere expected the young woman lying injured and bleeding was the focus of the woman’s search, but there was no way to insulate her against the shock about to engulf her. The kaftan-clad frame raised himself quickly to his feet and as he did, Anne-Claire’s damaged body filled her view. Just as Jeannine drew in a horrified gasp and filled her lungs, ready to overcome the castle’s immense underworld with a spine-chilling scream, Robere pulled her into an embrace and held her against his chest, stifling the agony in her voice.
“Ssshhh, an ambulance is on its way; your daughter is stable, but panicking won’t help her plight.”
Just then, Laurent and the others strolled into the strange environment, wondering why his wife was trembling in a stranger’s embrace, until he too caught the bloodied image of his daughter lying on the ground close by.
Reaching to embrace Laurent, Robere pulled the stunned man into his arms and attempted to divert a panicked response also. “She’s stable and the ambulance is on its way,” Robere serenely explained.
Feeling a strange calm surging through his body, Laurent reluctantly drew out of the man’s fatherly embrace and knelt by his daughter, taking her hand. “Oh, honey, who did this to you?”
Anne-Claire recognised her dad and smiled, but then her eyes became distant and fearful. “Dad... help... Dominique... please!”
Laurent bent over his daughter and tried to understand her whisper, however he couldn’t make it out and when he tried to ask her again, the Rega rescue helicopter hovered overhead, dispatching a medical crew on a winch cable, stealing Anne-Claire’s attempts to whisper in the cacophony of the helicopter’s downdraft before it flew off to find a close by landing space.
As news of the mishap spread throughout the castle walls, the dungeon swelled with onlookers while the medical people worked on Anne-Claire. An unexpected, “We’re losing her!” escaped the lips of one of the medics attending Anne-Claire, causing a petrified whimper from Laurent and Jeannine.
Robere pushed away from Jeannine’s sobbing frame and knelt beside Anne-Claire, cupping her stained forehead in his hand and staring into her vacant eyes. He whispered over her, “Not now, spirit of death; it isn’t her time.”
Anne-Claire suddenly convulsed under his hand and as the medics gawked in disbelief, the young woman’s eyes blinked closed but incredibly, her vital signs stabilised.
*~*~*~*
Jeannine and Laurent accompanied Anne-Claire on the helicopter flight to the CHUV university hospital in Lausanne. Their daughter was stable but unconscious while the helicopter swooped low over the city, trying to avert pressurising Anne-Claire’s brain cavity and making her injury any worse. After the patient had been hospitalised, she’d been moved to a public ward for observation and then her parents were allowed in to keep vigil by their daughter’s bedside. The rec
overy room had five occupied beds aligned into cubicles and separated by a fabric curtain, but the noise inside the area, although minimal, still didn’t lend itself to a conducive environment for healing.
Outside the door, a ruckus exploded with medical staff diving for cover as a male voice made demands and expected results. In a matter of moments, orderlies entered the observation room and began to prepare Anne-Claire for immediate removal, while her parents demanded to know what was going on.
“You’re daughter is being moved to a private room on the fifth floor,” one man offered.
“Why? We can’t afford a private room,” Jeannine demanded.
Just then, the grey kaftan-clad man entered, bringing an appreciative smile to Jeannine’s lips. She didn’t understand what he had done, but he had done something to change Anne-Claire’s condition.
“Anne-Claire will have the best attention and doctors, Jeannine,” Robere’s smooth voice distracted the couple from the frenetic activity around their daughter.
“But... we can’t afford this,” Jeannine offered again.
“You can’t, but God can; just have faith,” Robere’s answer hypnotised the couple. “Doctor Alouette Cartier is the top neurosurgeon in Europe, but unfortunately, she has had a skiing accident and is incapacitated. However, Doctor John Watkins, a contemporary of Alouette, is available and as we speak he is onboard our family jet from London to Geneva and at no expense to you.”
Laurent and Jeannine stared at the strange man, unable to speak at the kindness he was showing.
“One thing though. Anne-Claire whispered a name to me and it seemed she was very concerned for that person. Do you know a Dominique?”
Laurent and Jeannine exchanged glances but they knew nothing of a person named Dominique. Jeannine, however, had a thought.