Part 47 (1/2)
”The man, ma Mere, his accent ... I do not think he is like the others. I think perhaps he has been sent by ...” Angelique's voice dropped to a whisper. ”General Wolfe, ma Mere. Possibly. I mean, I cannot-”
”Did you smell no brimstone, Soeur Angelique? Feel no heat of the devil's fire?”
”On no, ma Mere. I do not mean-”
Marie Rose put down her quill. ”Very well, ma Soeur, I will go to the turn.”
”I will come with you, ma Mere. I will bring holy water and-”
”I will confront the devil alone, Soeur Angelique. You may go back to your ch.o.r.es.”
The little Angelique was quite correct. The man spoke French badly, and with an English accent. So, a man sent by the General Wolfe? Not likely, but entirely possible. ”Please, monsieur, I wish to be certain that I understand. If you would kindly repeat-”
Quent marshaled all his patience. ”I am telling you, madame, that you and your nuns are in grave danger.”
”On whose authority do you say this, monsieur?”
”On the authority of common sense, madame.”
Marie Rose leaned her forehead against the wood of the turn. Only for a moment, and only because she was alone. It was imperative that none of her nuns know how weary she was. ”Apparently common sense has become a much more common virtue since I have entered the cloister. You are the fourth person to tell me of our danger, monsieur.”
”Then why are you still here?”
”May I ask, monsieur, what business that is of yours?” A question only to gain time. While she considered. Could it be him? Yes, it was possible.
”I am concerned for you and the other nuns, madame.”
A stranger with an English accent who does not know how to address a nun. The very large redheaded man who brought Soeur Stephane that first day. ”Are you perhaps most concerned for one of my nuns, monsieur? One in particular.” Holy Spirit, grant me wisdom and discernment. And let him not hear the pounding of my heart. ”If that is so, I can a.s.sure you that we are all of one opinion.”
Jesus G.o.d Almighty. Was there no reasoning with the woman? ”Madame, the English soldiers have taken Pointe-Levis. They are now directly across from you. They are not of your religion, madame, and they will not respect your way of life. You must all leave this place. The Lower Town in particular is not safe.”
The redcoats had made up a ditty. They sang it all the time, made up verses to suit whatever bellicose mood took them: And when we have done with the mortars and guns,
If you please, Madame Abbess, a word with your nuns.
Each soldier shall enter the convent in buff,
And then never fear, we will give them Hot Stuff!
Even Wolfe had laughed at this latest version.
”Madame, do you hear me? I truly think-”
”I think, monsieur, that you have put yourself in some peril to bring us this warning, and I am sure that G.o.d will reward you for your kindness. Now it is best if you go away.”
”And will you do the same, madame?” He stamped down his frustration with her obstinacy, not letting himself shout the words.
”No, monsieur, we will not. We have taken a vow to remain enclosed in this place. If we are to die here, then so be it.” Angelique and Francoise were both making a novena to pet.i.tion for martyrdom. Joseph had started another. Her request was for quick martyrdom, without being tortured first. It was Stephane who said she was quite sure English soldiers would not torture nuns. All, Marie Rose thought, a matter of definition. ”Good night to you, monsieur. I shall hold you in my prayers.”
”They have all but emptied the Lower Town of habitants,” Quent told Wolfe. ”Your ammunition will be wasted, General.”
”Never that. Makes the men feel good to fire their guns. Besides, it'll put the fear of G.o.d in the enemy. Still ... You're sure about the locals?”
Quent nodded. ”Very sure.”
”You've been over there, haven't you?”
”Yes.”
”b.l.o.o.d.y d.a.m.n. I might have known. How did you manage it? The way you look, I should think you'd be easy to spot.”
”There are ways, General.”
No one would have thought much about an Indian standing in the alley, leaning into the turn conferring with the invisible nuns. The man with Huron face-markings and blacked hair, wearing a smock and breeches, would be a.s.sumed to be one of the Christian Indians from the Jesuit missions come to aid in the defense of Quebec.
”Yes, of course,” Wolfe agreed. ”Many ways I suppose for a man of your talents.” It was Hale who had convinced him to have the redcoats' jackets made a bit freer and shorter, so they weren't as restrictive. And putting the light infantry in those caps with the black cloth under the chin, that was an excellent idea. Kept the men a bit warmer when they were belly down on the ground. ”Mr. Hale, I have been thinking. Why can't our troops wear their knapsacks higher and fastened across their backs the way the Indians do? That would be an excellent accommodation, don't you think?”
”Excellent, General Wolfe. Leaves both hands free.”
”Yes, my thought exactly. I shall issue the command. Mr. Hale, will you go again?”
”Sir?”
”To Quebec, Hale. Will you go again on my behalf? See if you can tell us by what manner we can get up those d.a.m.nable cliffs.”
Quent fixed him with his most intense stare. ”If I find a way, I'll tell you. But this idea of sh.e.l.ling the Lower Town, General, it's really not-”
Wolfe had already turned away.
SAt.u.r.dAY, JULY 12, 1759.
POINTE-LeVIS.
Not yet dawn. Wolfe stood on the battlements, wrapped and m.u.f.fled against the rain and the chill and the nagging ache in his lower belly, doing up the b.u.t.tons of his breeches. Sweet Jesus, what wouldn't he give for a proper p.i.s.s, one without the burning. A lot. But not everything, by d.a.m.n. Not Quebec. I'll have this prize if I have to stay here until November. And if there's nothing left but rubble by the time I take it, well, that's their choice.