Juliette turned and waved in acknowledgment, the sunlight glinting on her wild mop of dark curls. Then she was running across the vegetable garden toward the abbey, her skirts flying.
Catherine started after her, picking her way carefully among the crosses. As she reached the gate of the cemetery, the Comte de Montard’s large berlin, now burdened with his daughter’s bags, was lumbering out the south courtyard gates. The coachman snapped his whip, urging the horses to a faster clip. Cecile de Montard was on her way to Switzerland via Paris.
Change. Catherine suddenly felt a chill similar to the one she had experienced when she opened the door to the crypt. She didn’t understand anything about this tempest threatening to disrupt their lives. Great and terrible changes had swept through France since the fall of the Bastille that signaled the beginning of the revolution. Riots and hunger, peasant uprisings, massacres, religious orders suppressed, the shifting of power from the king and nobles to the Legislative Assembly, the declaration of war against Austria and Prussia.
The nuns had taught them the revolution was caused by a combination of many things but most of them seemed to concern hunger. The terrible hunger for bread by the starving peasants, the bourgeoisie’s hunger for equal power with the nobles, the hunger of the nobles for additional power from the king, the hunger of the idealists for rights such as the ones won in America’s war for independence.
Catherine wished them all well with their aims, particularly those poor peasants, but none of it really touched her here at the abbey. She just wished all this turmoil would disperse, leaving tranquility in its wake.
She began to run toward the high, secure walls surrounding the abbey, feeling the blood tingling in her veins as the cool morning wind tore at her hair and stung her cheeks. There was really nothing to worry about. The sun was shining, she and Juliette were both young and strong, and they would be friends forever and ever and ever.
The bells were ringing!
Juliette opened her eyes to the pitch darkness of her cell. The darkness was not unusual. They always rose before dawn for matins.
It was the screams that were unusual.
Raw screams of terror shredded the silence. Was the abbey on fire?
Juliette shook her head to clear it of the last vestiges of sleep and scrambled off her pallet. Fire was always a danger. An ember left smoldering in the huge fireplace in the scullery, a lighted candle forgotten in the chapel.
She lit the candle in the copper holder on the rough cedar table before pulling on her gown, her fingers fumbling frantically with the fastenings.
“Juliette!” Catherine was at the door of her cell, her long pale brown hair tumbling about her shoulders, her eyes wide with fright. “The bells … the screaming. What’s happening?”
“How do I know?” Juliette jammed her feet into her slippers and grabbed the candle. “Come quickly. I have no desire to be roasted alive if the abbey’s on fire.”
“Do you think—”
“I’ll think later.” Juliette grabbed Catherine’s hand and pulled her into the corridor. A crush of frightened girls in various states of undress clogged the narrow passage.
“We’ll never get through to the courtyard. Come.” Juliette turned and began shoving her way in the opposite direction toward a small arched oak door. “The chamber of learning. There’s a window.”
Catherine followed her down the hall and into the deserted room. They dodged long writing tables as they raced to the deeply recessed window. Juliette slid back the bolt and threw open the wooden shutters. “It is a fire. Look at the—”
Torches. Men with torches. Men with swords. Men dressed in rough striped trousers and flowing linen shirts, some with strange red woolen caps. It seemed there were hundreds of men. Shouts. Laughter. Curses.
And screams.
“Dear God,” Juliette whispered. “Sister Mathilde …”
The nun was lying on the cobblestones, her habit in rags, her legs obscenely parted and held by two laughing men as a third man wearing a red woolen cap brutally plunged his member into her body.
“We’ve got to help her.” Catherine started to clamber onto the recessed windowsill. “We can’t stay here. We’ve got to help all of them.”
The same horror was happening all over the courtyard. The nuns were being dragged from their cells, stripped, pulled to the cobblestones.
“We can’t help them.” Juliette jerked Catherine back into the room away from the window. “Can’t you see there are too many of them to fight? But we can try to stop those silly sheep in the hall from joining them.” She turned back toward the hallway.
Catherine grabbed her arm. “Wait,” she whispered. “It’s too late.”
The young girls had already reached the courtyard. They stopped in bewildered horror at the sight that met their eyes.
A laughing shout from one of the men. “Fresh meat. Leave the old crows.”
“Here’s pretty young pullets for the plucking.”
And new screams shrilled through the courtyard.
“Why?” Catherine asked. “Why are they doing this? They’re hurting them.”
“Because they’re beasts who want only to rut,” Juliette muttered, trying desperately to think what to do. “We can’t go through the north courtyard and we can’t hide here. They may come searching.”
“Henriette Balvour.” Catherine couldn’t take her gaze from the horror outside in the courtyard. “Look what those two men are doing to her. She’s only ten years old.”
“I’m not going to look. And neither will you.” Juliette pulled Catherine farther away from the window and slammed the shutter. She blew out the candle and set it on the windowsill. “We can’t help them, but we may be able to help ourselves.”
“She’s only ten years old,” Catherine repeated dully.
Juliette took her by the shoulders and shook her. “If we go out there and try to help, the same thing’s going to happen to us. Do you want that to happen?”
“No, but we—”
“Then no arguments. I won’t let them do that to you.” Juliette tried to ignore the sounds filtering through the wooden shutters. The screams were awful but the whimpering was worse. Someone was sobbing for her mother. Little Henriette? “We have to find a place to hide.”
“Where? There’s no place …”
Juliette seized Catherine’s hand and led her down the corridor toward the north courtyard.
Catherine tried to pull away. “We can’t go there. You just said—”
“We’re not going into the courtyard. We’re going to run down the arcade to the bell tower. It’s only a few yards away and there’s a back entrance that leads from the tower to the south courtyard.”
“What if … this is happening in the south courtyard too?”
“We’ll worry about that then. We can’t be any worse off than we are now.”
The door leading to the north courtyard had been left open, and as they reached it, Juliette pulled Catherine to one side, pressing against the wall and into the shadows.
Catherine shivered. “What if they see us? I’m so frightened, Juliette.”
“So am I.” Juliette cautiously peered out into the courtyard. No one was under the arcade. All the women had been pulled into the courtyard where the rapine was going on. “Run as fast as you can for the bell tower and dart between the stone columns. I’ll be right behind you. If they catch me, don’t stop. You won’t be able to help, and there’s no need for both of us to …” Catherine was frantically shaking her head and Juliette glared at her. “Do what I tell you. Promise me.”
“I couldn’t let them hurt you.” Catherine was trembling uncontrollably but her voice was firm. “I’d have to try to stop it.”
“Oh, God in heaven,” Juliette said in exasperation. “If those pigs catch you, do you want me to fling myself in their arms to rescue you?”
“No, but I can’t—”
“Then it’s agreed. If we become separated, we try to save oursel
ves.”
Catherine was silent.
“You know I’d never let those canailles defeat me,” Juliette said. “I’d find a way to get free. Now, we don’t have time to argue. Yes?”
Catherine hesitated and then reluctantly nodded.
“Good.” Juliette’s hand compressed bracingly around Catherine’s. “When you get through the south courtyard, run for the cemetery.”
“The cemetery?”
Juliette nodded. “We’ll let Sister Bernadette hide us until this is over and they’ve gone away.”
“They may not go away.” Catherine shuddered as she lifted her hands to her ears to shut out the screams. “It seems as if it’s already been going on forever.”
“They’ll go away. Men tire of fornicating. My mother once said—” Juliette broke off. This wasn’t the same as the rutting that had taken place in the bedchambers at Versailles. In those scented, silk-hung rooms the men and women had at least made a pretense of tenderness. Here there was only a fever of violence and brutality. “Leave the door of the bell tower open and be sure and look outside before you go into the south courtyard. Remember to wait for me at the tomb. Are you ready?”
Catherine nodded.
“Go!”
Catherine streaked out the door, keeping close to the wall.
Juliette waited tensely for a shout to go up or one of the men to detach himself from the orgy and run after her.
Catherine reached the door of the bell tower, threw it open, and disappeared inside.
Juliette’s fear lessened a fraction, but she waited to be sure no notice had been taken and no tardy pursuit was to follow. Then she bolted across the few yards separating the students’ cells from the bell tower, ran up the three stone steps, crossed the threshold, and slammed the door behind her. Darkness.
Her heart pounded painfully as she leaned back against the brass-studded oak door in an agony of relief. Gradually her eyes became accustomed to the gloom and she could discern the long flight of spiraling open wooden stairs a few yards away leading to the belfry. Beyond the staircase moonlight streamed through an open doorway. Catherine must have found the south courtyard deserted and taken the second step to freedom. Juliette straightened and started eagerly for the open doorway.
“You weren’t thinking of leaving, Citizeness?”
Juliette froze.
A small, slender shadow detached itself from the darkness beneath the spiraling stairs. It held a sword in one hand and a coil of rope in the other. “Not after I’ve gone to so much trouble and been waiting so patiently,” the voice continued. Juliette now watched as the figure waved the sword toward the open doorway. “Your little friend was in such a hurry, I wasn’t able to get down the steps from the belfry in time to detain her. However, I’m sure someone else will intercept the little flower before she gets too far. From the glimpse I caught before she ran out the door I’d say she was quite pretty. I was about to go after her myself when you ran into the bell tower.”
Juliette took a step back, her gaze fixed on the sword. She had been so close to freedom. Mother of God, she didn’t want to die.
“Ah, well, you’re a little thin but not unattractive yourself. Permit me to introduce myself. I’m Raoul Dupree. And what’s your name, little one?” The man stepped forward, peering at her face.
Juliette didn’t answer.
“Tell me, do you wish me to throw you to that mob in the courtyard?”
“Don’t be absurd. Of course I don’t.”
“Very wise. I’m afraid the good sisters and your fellow schoolmates are having a dreadful time of it. It’s regrettable, but the only way I could get my patriots to travel from Paris to do their duty was to offer them the opportunity to quench their lusts on these fine aristos.”
“They’re raping the nuns too.”
“Well, the Marseilles are none too fond of the church.” Dupree shook his head. “I must admit the sight of so much carnal revelry has aroused me, but I have a distaste for seconds. That’s why I rang the bell.” He chuckled. “I thought I’d catch a sweet little virgin for my very own. Unfortunately, your friends were seen almost as soon as they poured out the door and I feared I was going to be deprived of my pleasure.” He pressed the tip of his sword to Juliette’s throat. “Are you afraid? You’re not speaking.”
Juliette swallowed. “Of course I’m afraid. I’d be stupid not to be frightened.”
“And you’re not stupid or you’d have run bleating into the arms of those louts like all the others. I think I shall enjoy you, little aristo.”
“You’ll get no pleasure from me.”
“You’re wrong.” He held out the coil of rope to her. “However, I have no time now. I must see to organizing the trials. Form a loop in the rope and slip it around your wrists.”
Juliette didn’t move.
“Shall I tell you what will happen to you if you don’t do as I command? One of two things. I’ll either plunge this sword into your throat or I’ll march you out to the courtyard and toss you to the Marseilles. I really don’t want to make that choice. What I’d like to do is tie you up and leave you here. Then, when I have time to indulge myself, I’ll return to your eager arms. Now, which shall it be?”
Juliette quickly considered her situation. Dupree intended to save her for himself. While he was gone she might be able to escape the ropes. He might even forget she was there once he joined the frenzy outside. In any event, she had little choice. She took the rope, formed a noose, and slipped it over her wrists.
“Very sensible.” Dupree tightened the noose about her wrists and then wound the rope around her torso. “But if you weren’t sensible, you’d be out in the courtyard with the rest, wouldn’t you? Come over here beneath the steps.” He sheathed the sword and jerked her into the dark recess beneath the staircase. He passed the rope three times around the fifth step before knotting it. “That should be adequate. Now, all you have to do is stand here and wait for me.” He leaned forward and patted her cheek and then stopped to stroke it. “What soft skin. Don’t scream or you’ll attract some of those crude fellows in the courtyard. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”
She didn’t answer, surreptitiously testing the thick ropes binding her wrists.
“No, we wouldn’t want that.” Dupree moved toward the door to the north courtyard, his steps precise, mincing. He opened the door and the light from the torches in the courtyard allowed her to get her first clear look at him. He reminded her of a cat with his thin, triangular face and slightly slanted hazel eyes. Even his body was catlike, small, wiry almost to the point of scrawniness. Instead of the rough loose trousers and coarse shirts of the men in the courtyard, he was dressed in an elegant light blue coat trimmed in gold brocade and dark blue knee breeches. “Au revoir, Citizeness. I’ll return as soon as I can lure these good men from their pleasure to their duty in starting the trials.”
He shut the door firmly behind him.
Trial. It was the second time Dupree had mentioned a trial. Juliette dismissed the thought as she concentrated on her own predicament. The ropes were too strong to break and the knots dismayingly secure.
She bent her head forward and began to gnaw with her teeth at the loop of the rope wound around the step.
There were men in the south courtyard too!
Catherine skidded to a stop halfway across the courtyard and shrank into the shadow of the tall cistern. She’d thought the courtyard was deserted but there was no mistaking the sound of a woman sobbing and masculine laughter coming from the direction of the passage linking the north and south courtyards.
The gate seemed a hundred miles away as she glanced longingly at it. The atrocity going on seemed to be limited to four or five men gathered around the supine body of a nude woman, but she couldn’t risk one of them glancing toward the gate.
She could tell by the pleas, sobs, and prayers tumbling in an indiscriminate stream from the woman’s lips that she was one of the nuns but she didn’t know which one. Sister Th
érèse? Sister Hélène? It would be a sin not to help that poor woman.
Catherine took an impulsive step forward and then stopped in an agony of indecision. She had the right to risk herself but not Juliette. If Juliette saw Catherine in trouble, she knew she would forget every practical argument and rush to save her. Juliette had great confidence in her own abilities and was more gallant than she knew herself to be. A choice. She and Juliette or that poor woman being assaulted by those beasts?
She fell to her knees by the cistern, trying to close out both the sobs of the woman and the coarse remarks of the men. She would wait and hope they would leave the courtyard quickly after they were done with the nun.
She closed her eyes, her lips forming the silent words of prayer. Sweet Jesus, deliver us from evil …
Where was Juliette? Had she seen the men and remained in the bell tower, waiting for them to begone?
Go to Sister Bernadette, Juliette had said. Yes, she’d be safe in the tomb. Why had she ever been afraid of the dead when life was so much more savage? She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop the shudders racking her body.
Please come, Juliette. I’m so alone.
Mary, Mother of God, let them not find me.
Let Juliette be safe.
Let all those poor women stop suffering.
“Well, what do we have here?”