François slips quietly into the church through the priest’s door. He stands at the back of the sanctuary, behind the altar, hidden from view by thick velvet drapes. Behind him sunlight streams into the church through stained glass windows, casting a mottled, colored light over the altar and the polished floors.
“Give up the boy,” Monsieur Lecocq is saying. “They will bring dogs and those dogs will find the grave of the dinosaur. We must give up the boy.”
Most of the menfolk of the village have gathered in the church. Monsieur Claude stands beside the pulpit.
“My son has already died because of this,” Monsieur Lejeune says. “Now you would sacrifice Willem as well?”
“We don’t know why they want the boy,” Monsieur Beauclerc says.
Monsieur Lejeune shrugs. “I doubt they wish to see his magic show.”
“It was Jean and Willem who slew the beast,” Monsieur Lecocq says. “Jean is already taken from us. That only leaves Willem. If we hide him then the whole town will suffer.”
“How do they even know about the boy?” a voice calls from the congregation.
François shrinks back behind the curtain, afraid to breathe. He stares at the figure of Christ on the cross.
“I don’t know,” Monsieur Claude says. “But it is clear from the captain’s words to me that they do.”
“They will need something. Someone,” Monsieur Lecocq says. “They will not be appeased by the spirit of a dead boy.”
“We can turn Willem over on condition he comes to no harm,” Monsieur Claude says.
“You would trust the French?” Monsieur Lejeune asks.
“They treated us fairly when we were under their rule,” Monsieur Lecocq says.
“Lecocq, you would use your tongue to clean French arses,” Monsieur Lejeune says.
“And, Lejeune, you are a puppet of the Dutch, who do not even speak our language.”
“This is not about the French, or the Flemish, or the Dutch,” Monsieur Claude says. “It is about the penalties that will be exacted if we do not cooperate with this army that has invaded our country.”
“Give up the boy,” Monsieur Lecocq says. “Before it is too late. If they find him first, then we will suffer.”
Father Ambroise stands and walks up to the sanctuary, next to Monsieur Claude.
“You would do this?” Father Ambroise asks, shaking his head. “You would even say this, in a place of God?”
“Do we have another choice?” Monsieur Claude asks. “But we must be fair. We will take a vote.”
“I will not be part of this,” Monsieur Lejeune says. The door of the church slams so hard that dust jumps and hazes the air as he leaves.
François waits for a moment, then quietly slips back out through the priest’s door.