Accompanied by the sounds of the gallows rope as it twisted in the wind, Celeste soothed the tears of the younger children and settled them on the hard wooden seats. I must be strong for them. Maman is too ill to help them now. And Papa… She swallowed her sob. The children needed her.
“Are you warm enough? We have a long journey ahead of us tonight.” She wanted to distract the children from the dreadful sight outside, still visible in the twilight.
Pulled by indifferent horses, the dark carriage crept by the gallows. The wheels creaked in accompaniment with a crescendo of sounds from the gathered crows.
Inside the glacial interior of the shabby coach, each exhalation frosted. The cold robbed the children of speech and left their grief unspoken. Celeste offered what little comfort she could as she caressed them.
Their mother Giselle, face leached pale without expression, curled in the opposite corner and stared in silence out the window, her children apparently forgotten.
Celeste saw drying tearstains trailed down Maman’s cheeks, as if there were no tears left. Maman’s chapped hands were a sharp contrast to her pale face as they protected her swollen belly. She focused her gaze on the corpse outside.
Swinging slowly on the gallows, the baron’s body performed a chilling dance choreographed by desolate winds. As it spun, the face came into view.
The well-loved face, mouth slackened in death, screamed silently at the injustice of his execution. He had died an innocent man.
“Promise me,” whispered Giselle, her voice breathless and hard to hear above the groan of the gallows and the mournful cries of the crows.
Celeste leaned forward, unable to make out the words. “What did you say, Maman?”
Her eyes still on the corpse, Giselle’s voice echoed through the dim light. “Promise me, Celeste. You will raise the children and avenge your father.”
“Bien sûr, Maman, whatever you wish.” Celeste reached across the carriage and took Giselle’s limp hand to rub it between her own. “Maman?” She rubbed the hand harder. “Please do not give up, we need you. So much is already lost.” With no response from her mother, Celeste held her hand tighter, begging a reaction.
Giselle glanced at her eldest daughter. Celeste could see Maman’s will in her dull eyes. Her soul left, piece by piece. She awaited only the birth of their last child to follow her husband in death.
Maman cannot die. I am only eighteen. I don’t know what to do. Afraid to accept the truth, Celeste returned her attention to her sister and brother.
Mimi, only three years old, shivered on the bench beside her. Celeste wrapped her own cloak over her baby sister and tucked the warm fabric around the little girl.
She pulled nine-year-old William close to her on the other side, snuggled to share their warmth. He put his head on her shoulder.
The horses plodded along the rutted road as the coach took the family farther and farther away from their father. Without him, their new world was as bleak as the ice encrusted landscape they passed.
Celeste looked out the window opposite the one that viewed the gallows. She saw a lone man, resplendent in his military uniform, astride a beautiful white stallion, watching them leave. She recognized that horse and rider. What is he doing here? How dare he come to witness the result of his treachery? As she glowered at him, he reined his horse in the opposite direction. The man’s head bent down, as if he carried a heavy burden. Celeste did not care. She never wanted to care again. Love only brought her pain.
In the gathering darkness, her sisterly duties performed, Celeste was left alone with her unwelcome thoughts. Numb with cold and the heavy burden of responsibility, Celeste packed away her grief and her fear. I have no time for these feelings. She put aside all emotion, save one. The rage inside her took over, burning bright, the one warm thing in a frigid world. I have nothing left now.
Those who harmed our family will pay. Maman and Papa, I vow they will all pay, even the man I once loved.