Chapter 14

The time I’d had with Charles was like a dream, a true fairytale night. But I had to push that to the back of my mind as I ran through the garden door and to the kitchens, knowing there would be people on hand there.

“Au secours! Au secours!” I yelled as I barreled into the room. “Fire in the stables!”

The cook on duty thrust a bucket in my hands and started giving orders, waking a small boy who slept by the massive fireplace. In seconds he was running for the servants’ quarters. I spun around to head back out with my bucket, not at all certain where the water would be. I knew that there had to be some nearby, what with the garden and the stables in the same vicinity. As I ran from the kitchen, I crashed headfirst into a body.

“Oof!” the person exhaled, caught by surprise. “Isabelle? Is that you? What are you doing here at this time of night?”

Relief flooded my whole being. “Nicole! Thank the Gods! Quick, follow me.” I pulled her with me back outside. “Where is the water, do you know?” I yelled, as the noise outside had escalated with the roaring flames, the terrified animals, and the people running to the rescue. I heard Nicole gasp behind me as she took in the scene. Then she grabbed my arm, and we ran to the well. We quickly filled buckets and handed them off to the men as they handed us their empty ones. Nicole organized the men in a line, to pass the buckets quickly and efficiently. I kept looking toward the stables, trying to make out the form of the prince. Please let him be OK, I whispered to the night sky. Please! My arms screamed from pulling on the ropes to lift the buckets filled with water: down and up, down and up.

“Here, let me have a turn,” Nicole pushed me out of the way. “You’ll ruin your musical hands!”

Soon, there were enough men on hand to relieve us of the water duty. I looked around, trying to see where else we could help. I noticed a stack of horse blankets that had been doused in water. “Come on, Nicole,” I gestured toward the blankets. Grabbing one, I ran toward the flames on the other side of the building, and started beating them back with the soaking blankets. Nicole saw what I was doing, and started doing the same. Black smoke burned our lungs as we continued beating the flames with all we were worth. Others grabbed the rest of the sodden blankets and followed our lead. Suddenly, I felt the whip of the wet cloth on my own back.

“Sorry!” Nicole yelled above the noise. “Your dress was burning!” I smiled my thanks to her and stepped back as someone grabbed my blanket to douse in water once more.

“I think it’s receding,” I told her as we stood shoulder to shoulder, soaking wet, out of breath, and covered in smoke.

“You, my friend,” she declared as she slung her arm around my shoulder, “are fearless.”

“As are you,” I countered, throwing my arm around her waist, swaying as we leaned against one another for support.

Sure enough, the flames were beaten back, and all that was left was a smoldering pile of burning hay and wood. Luckily, most of the building was still intact. I looked up and saw Charles heading our direction. Nicole noticed him too.

“Charles! What are you doing out here this time of the night?” she asked in surprise.

He leaned his hands on his knees, bending over to catch his breath. “I was the first to sound the alarm.,” he answered when he could talk. “You’ll remember, my windows face this side of the castle?” he added. Hmmm, interesting, I thought. He didn’t want Nicole to know we’d been out on our own. OK, well, I’d take his cue and try to corroborate our story.

“Which is when he ran into me, trying to find the kitchens. I was hungry, I’m afraid,” I explained sheepishly.

“I did wonder where you were at supper. I went by to check on you, but you were fast asleep. Snoring.”

“I was not snoring!” I slapped at her, and she wriggled away from me. “Are the animals OK?” I asked Charles, turning back to him. I caught a look of gratitude from him before Nicole turned back.

“Yes, they are fine. We were able to get them out in time,” he recounted. “Although a few have some singed tails and such. It could have been much worse.”

“Sire!” someone yelled from where the horses were being corralled.

“I’d better go. We need to find them a makeshift shelter for the night.” He turned to go back.

“Wait!” I called out. “How did the fire start, do you know?” Turning back, he shook his head.

“No. It was too far along by the time I got here. I only know that it was started in the stall where I usually stable my own stallion.”

“Heavens!” Nicole exclaimed. “Is Thunderbolt all right?” The worry was evident on her soot-smudged face.

“Yes, yes. He is fine.” Without further explanation, he turned to help figure out where the horses could stay for the night.

“Well,” Nicole sighed, weariness in her voice, “I was looking for a little midnight snack myself. Come, let’s see if we can snitch some bread now while cook is otherwise occupied!”

_____________

The thirty-six hours that followed the craziness of that night was just steeped in more crazy. With so few hours of sleep, and so much preparation ahead, there was no time to waste trying to figure out the cause of the fire. With a performance looming in a mere day and a half, it was going to take every moment to get us ready.

The Queen excused us from her company the next two mornings so we could have more time to practice. And practice, we did. So far we had two good songs down, which would probably be plenty. But I wanted a grand finale, one that would bring the house, er castle, down as they say. Besides, I’d had an idea forming in my head that I just had to try. I hoped I wouldn’t live to regret it. Because at that moment, I felt very much like Will Schuester from Glee, explaining why this particular late 70’s classic would be a great idea.

“You want us to do what?” exclaimed Chantal and Louise in unison. Fleur simply gasped and covered her cheeks that had blushed a deep crimson, her eyes wide in abject terror.

“Oooh, what fun this will be!” Nicole said, clapping her hands together and bubbling over with the excitement of possibly shocking the court and upsetting the queen. Ironic, I thought, since it was a Queen song I was trying to teach them to do.

Genevieve merely shrugged her shoulders and sat down to look at the music I had written out for her to play on the harpsichord. That one, I thought, would look perfectly normal doing the “W” sign with her hands. I could just see her saying “whatev’s” with her perfect little, who-cares shoulder shrug. As she plunked out the chords, I smiled and thought, oh, how Freddie Mercury would have gotten a kick out of hearing his song played on a harpsichord.

“OK, ladies,” I called out, trying to keep the weariness out of my voice, “this is quite simple. You all know your parts. You’re sounding amazing!” Never hurt to throw in some encouraging words, right? “Now we add a little, movement, shall we say. Like dancing, um, without a partner?” Insert more gasping from Fleur. I shook my head trying to explain further, not sure I was doing a very good job of it. “It’s just swaying to the rhythm, and turning this way and that.” You would think I was asking them to move their hips like Elvis. Which, honestly, is impossible in a corset. Again, I caught myself wondering how this fashion lasted so long in history? Oops, I was getting sidetracked once more.

I lined them up beside me, in a straight line across our “would be” stage. “Ready? Let’s walk through this, we’ll start in this line. And when Genevieve starts in with the harpsichord, you’ll all move back like this.” I showed the two on the end, Chantal and Fleur, how to step back two steps. The next two, Louise and Nicole, stepped back one step, leaving me up front in the middle of our little pyramid.

“Perfect! Alright, now, just follow my lead. I know you can do this!” Which they did, over and over until we were all exhausted.

“Izzy,” Nicole groaned as she draped herself over the closest chair, “soon you will be thrown in the stocks on account of murder if you don’t let us eat. I’m famished!” Come to think of it, I was a bit hungry myself. We had worked all morning, stopping only for lunch, and continued working all afternoon. I hadn’t even noticed that a cart had been brought in with snacks, or tea, or whatever they called it.

“Why didn’t someone tell me a tray had been brought in?” I asked. They all looked at me sheepishly.

“We thought you might bite our heads off instead,” Fleur responded, so totally out of character that we all started hooting with laughter. Even Genevieve cracked a smile.

“Please, let’s eat. I hope there are cream pastries on that tray. I could eat a whole tray of them!” I cried. We all filled our plates, and Chantal poured cups of tea. It felt good on my poor, tired vocal cords.

“Ladies,” I started, once everyone was happily munching.

“Oh no, here she goes again,” interjected Louise.

“Haha! No, don’t worry. I will let you eat in peace,” I continued. “I wanted to say how very proud I am of you all.” I looked at each one of them, so they could tell that I meant it. “Truly, I have never seen a more talented group of women.” They all smiled and blushed prettily.

Then Genevieve held up her teacup and said, “To Fleur, for coming up with this crazy idea.” We were startled she would admit that she liked being a part of it. Or at least, I was startled. Maybe she was warming up to us after all.

After we’d all clinked our cups together and taken a sip, Fleur exclaimed, “And to Isabelle for having the patience and the talent to help us find ours.”

“Here, here!” they all chimed in. We continued to sit together, relaxing in one another’s company until the shadows in the room grew long, the cakes eaten, and the tea cold. Finally, we got to our feet to leave, rearranging our skirts and stretching our worn muscles.

“Thank you again, everyone!” I announced, “Tomorrow, I don’t want to work so hard or we’ll be too nervous for the evening. We’ll run through the whole thing in the morning after breakfast, and then you’ll have the afternoon free until showtime.”

They all nodded their consent. Nicole added an audible, “Thank the stars!” She smiled at me and held out her arm for us to walk out together. We followed the others and she turned to me. “Do you really think we can do it?” she asked, a bit skeptical.

“Absolutely,” I returned resolutely. No use letting my own doubts niggle at the others. I’d keep them to myself and hope for the best at this point.

But that was yesterday. Today, I was still hoping for the best, as we were T minus three hours to performance time and counting.

“M’moiselle Isabelle, where would you like us to set up the instruments?” someone asked.

“Ooooh, I don’t know that I can do this!” Fleur exclaimed, wringing her hands over and over again.

“Looks like someone needs to take charge here,” Genevieve scoffed as she started commanding servants where to place chairs.

I had people coming at me from all angles, asking me this and that, where and what. I had the urge to stomp my foot down and scream at everyone to be quiet so I could think. Yet, I thought that rather childish for the “troupe leader” I had suddenly become.

It had been a long two days getting ready for our performance in front of the court. I had to constantly tell Fleur she’d be fine and that she was more than ready. I had practiced with each girl separately, and then we had practiced together, again and again. Nicole was a godsend. I couldn’t have done it without her. Whatever I needed, she seemed to be a step ahead of me: handing me a glass of water when my throat was parched, calming the others, and keeping Genevieve in her place in her easy way without giving offense. She truly had a gift for keeping the peace. Again, she reminded me of Anne with the calm that she exuded in the middle of chaos. I looked to Nicole now, mentally sending her an SOS. She stepped right up and started taking charge–just as she had the night of the fire.

We were trying to set up our stage area. I looked at the man awaiting my instructions about where to put the instruments. Now that Genevieve and Nicole seemed to have the chair placements under control, I was finally able to think.

“We’ll need the harpsichord here,” I pointed to one side of the mock stage. I showed him where the others would need to go. Once that was under control, I looked around to see if Leonardo was anywhere in sight. He’d said he would lend me some chalk so I could mark the stage for the girls.

“Nicole,” I yelled above the din, “I need to go find Leonardo!” She nodded OK, and shooed me off with the wave of her hand. Leaving the main hall, I pulled a handkerchief out of my sleeve to wipe the sweat off my brow. Usually I was so cold in the castle. Of course, today it was feeling like a hundred degrees. Stuffing it back in my sleeve, I failed to see the hand reaching out from the door I was passing that grabbed my elbow and whisked me inside, closing the door softly behind. Before I could let out a yelp, or better yet, a scream, I was spun back around with my back against the door.

“Shhh,” Charles assured, “it is only me.” My galloping heart from being abducted from the hallway raced faster when I realized he’d stolen me away for a kiss. His lips touched mine and the familiar jolt ran through us. Slowly, tenderly, he kissed me until my heart rate beat an even rhythm again, beating in tandem with his. Lightly, barely touching me, he ran his hands up my arms, over my shoulders, drawing me closer as he deepened the kiss. I felt myself melt. I thought surely, if he let go of me I’d be a puddle on the floor at his feet. Gently, he pulled away. I grabbed his arms.

“Don’t let go,” I responded. “I’m feeling a little off balance.” He smiled and pulled me into an embrace.

“I have waited almost forty-eight hours to find even a moment I could steal,” he whispered over my head, his hand rubbing my back, spreading heat, well, everywhere. Only, this was a far more pleasant kind of heat entirely. Which reminded me of my current state. I jumped back from him.

“Oh my...I’m so sorry! I must look a fright. And I know I smell terrible with the heat. It’s been so hot, and with trying to get everything ready and worrying about tonight and…” I realized I was babbling. I could feel my face flushing with embarrassment. I was trying to tuck away my errant hair and smooth out my dress when he grabbed my hand and stopped me.

“You have never looked more beautiful,” he reassured me, looking straight into my eyes. Gulp. A girl could get lost looking into those eyes.

“Right,” I joked. “And you’re full of...cow dung.” He looked at me quizzically, then looked at himself as if he really were full of cow dung.

“Not literally!” I laughed. “It’s a figure of speech.” Again, that quizzical look. “Never mind,” I said. Too difficult to explain, I decided.

“Actually,” he continued, “I take that back. There was one other time when I saw you that you looked even more beautiful than you do now.”

“Really,” I questioned, crossing my arms. It was my turn to throw him the quizzical brow. I thought he’d bring up our magical night on the bell tower.

“Yes, it was two nights ago, when I watched you walk straight up to monstrous flames. I thought for sure you had lost your mind and I ran to save you from a fiery death. But then you beat the flames back, and they obeyed you. Time seemed to stop for a moment as I saw you working as hard as the men around you with your dress wet and covered in ash, smudges on your face, your hair wild about your face. You were a goddess come to life. A mythical creature. And the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.”

I think my mouth opened and closed like a fish. I didn’t know what to say. Surely my actions were normal for the circumstances?

“No wait,” he said, breaking the spell. “There may have been another time. Let me think.” He left me standing there while he paced a few steps in front of me and then back, and placed his finger on his chin, as if he were in deep thought. “I’ve got it!” he declared, as he stood before me once more. “It was when we rolled down that hill together and you lost your shoes. You had leaves and sticks in your hair.” He had the audacity to smile at me. “That was the most beautiful you.” I tried to swat at him, but he paced away from me again.

“No, no. I’m wrong. That was not it. Let me think, again.” Back and forth he paced. “Ah!” he exclaimed, sticking his finger in the air in the classic Sherlock Holmes by-george-I-think-I’ve-got-it stance. “It was the first time I saw you. When you had invaded my private rooms, and fell into my arms. I looked down and saw an angel sitting on my chest and thought for sure I’d landed in heaven.”

I doubled over in laughter then. Really? “That has got to be the worst line I have ever heard!”

“What?” He looked the face of innocence. “You think I, the prince of the Realm, jest?”

“Yes, yes I do,” I answered. “I think you’re full of it.”

“Full of what, exactly?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

“Cow dung!” we both laughed.

“Thank you,” I told him earnestly as we stood smiling at one another.

“For what?” he asked.

“For giving me a moment to breathe. I’ve been so busy, I forgot how.” He brushed the back of his fingers down my cheek, tucking yet another stray hair behind my ear, a gesture of which he seemed particularly fond.

“It is I who should thank you.” He pulled me close again. “You’ve brought a light to this castle that I didn’t even know was missing.” He kissed me again, and then added, “Good luck tonight. I very much look forward to hearing you sing again.” And with that, he looked out the door both ways to make sure the coast was clear. He instructed, “You go ahead. I’ll go out the doors to the gardens.” ”Oh!” he grabbed my arm before I could leave, “I almost forgot. Here.” He slipped something into my hand. I looked down. “It’s from da Vinci. I told him I would find you.” Then he was off, and I was left with a chalky stone in my hands and a much lighter feeling in my heart.