Prologue
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 have
to 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, leached pale without expression, curled in the opposite corner and
stared in silence out the window, her children apparently forgotten.
Celeste saw drying
tear stains 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 died an innocent man.
“Promise me,”
whispered Giselle, her voice breathless and hard to hear above the groan of the
gallows and 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, her 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 away from their father.
Without him, their
new world grew 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 on a beautiful white stallion.
The man watched them leave. She
recognized that horse. 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.
In the gathering
darkness, her sisterly duties performed, Celeste faced her
unwelcome thoughts. Numb with cold and
the heavy burden of responsibility, she 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.
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