Part 9 (2/2)
When they were clear of the last of the marketgoers and the main street was empty, she stopped to remount and saw that the dog was following them hopefully. ”You've made a friend, Gregoire.”
Grey knelt and scratched the dog's scrawny neck. She was young, medium sized, and so skinny that her ribs showed. Under the dirt, she seemed to be black and tan with white feet and muzzle. Floppy ears suggested hound ancestry.
She wasn't wild, for she licked Grey's hand hopefully. ”She wants kindness as much as food,” he said. ”But she also needs more food. One small sausage for which you paid too much doesn't go far when one is starving. Can we spare some cheese?”
Ca.s.sie knew that feeding the scraggly little b.i.t.c.h was a bad idea, but she couldn't resist the dog's pleading brown eyes. She foraged in her saddlebags until she found a chunk of cheese. Breaking it in half, she handed a chunk to Grey. ”You'll never get rid of her after this.”
”I don't want to.” Grey broke the cheese into smaller pieces and fed them to the dog one at a time. ”I always had dogs. I missed them as much as I missed people.” He scratched the dog's head affectionately. ”If Regine chooses to follow, I won't object.”
Ca.s.sie studied the skinny dog. ”Naturally she should be called Queen. It will do wonders for her morale.”
Grey tossed the last piece of cheese to Regine. She snapped it neatly out of the air. ”I hope so. Names are important.”
If Regine helped him relax and cope with the world, Ca.s.sie figured the dog was worth her weight in sausages. They proceeded out of the village side by side. A mile or so along, Ca.s.sie said, ”You did well in the market. You didn't kill anyone.”
Grey's lips thinned. ”I would have if you hadn't stopped me. I'm not fit for civilized society, Ca.s.sie. If you aren't around the next time I go berserk, I don't know what will happen.”
”I'll be around as long as you need me.”
He turned and looked at her, his gray eyes stark. ”Is that a promise?”
She hesitated, realizing that she was on the verge of a very large promise. But while he needed her now, that wouldn't be true much longer. Once he was back in England, there would be others better suited to helping him until the last of his demons were banished.
But for now, he did need her. ”I promise, Grey.”
He gave a twisted smile. ”You may live to regret saying that, but thank you, Ca.s.sie. For now, you're my rock in a confusing world.”
”I'm more likely to regret your adopting that dog,” she remarked. ”We'll have to sleep in barns for the rest of our trip.”
He gave her an exaggerated leer. ”As long as there is sufficient privacy to ravish you, my dearest vixen.”
She laughed, glad his anger was under control again. They'd spent the previous night in a barn, and there had indeed been sufficient privacy for ravis.h.i.+ng, though she wasn't sure who was the ravisher and who was the ravished.
Ca.s.sie glanced back and saw that Regine was following. The dog seemed to have had some training. Perhaps she was a family pet that had become lost. She'd make Grey a good companion. Ca.s.sie loved animals herself, but couldn't keep them in her traveling life. She tried not to become too attached to her horses because sometimes she had to leave them behind. Just as she had to do with men.
They were making good time and should reach the coast within a few days. She'd be glad to get her charge safely home, but oh, she'd miss the nights!
After selling out his wares, the merchant Morlaix retired to the taproom of the nearby inn. As he waited for his drink, the commander of the local gendarmerie entered and posted a flyer on the wall by the door. REWARD! shouted across the top in large letters.
Morlaix liked to practice his reading, so he ambled over to study the flyer. Fugitives were being sought. An old woman, an old man, a younger man with light hair. Maybe together, maybe separate, maybe traveling with others.
”Eh, Leroy,” he said to the commander, who was an old friend. ”I just saw two out of three like that in the market. The old woman and a light-haired man. But he was touched in the head and there was no old man.”
Leroy, a former army sergeant, looked mildly interested. ”From around here?”
”No, strangers. Heading north.”
Leroy looked more interested. ”The notice says they're most likely heading north. What did the old woman look like?”
Morlaix shrugged. ”Nothing worth noticing. Average size, dressed one step above a ragpicker, gray hair. A man would have to be desperate to want to bed her.”
Even more interested, the gendarme asked, ”Old but strong?”
Morlaix frowned. ”I suppose she was. She stopped her great brute of a son from attacking me.”
”Why did he want to attack you?”
The merchant told the story tersely, thinking it didn't reflect well on him. The gendarme's eyes lit up. ”Could he have been an Englishman? They're mad for dogs!”
”He didn't say much, but he spoke like a Frenchman. An idiot Frenchman.”
Leroy tapped the flyer. ”The younger man is an escaped English spy. I suppose he'd have to speak French well to be a spy. This pair may be the ones who are wanted. How long since they left town?”
”Half a day,” Morlaix replied. ”See here, if they're the ones, do I get the reward?”
”Maybe part of a reward, but only if they're the right villains and if they're captured. I'll send word up the road by the military mail coach.” The commander spun on his heel and headed for the door.
”Don't you go forgetting my reward!” Morlaix growled. His drink was waiting, so he took a deep swallow. d.a.m.ned gendarme wanted the reward for himself. France may be an empire, not a kingdom, but there was still them that had power, and them that didn't.
Chapter 19.
”This looks promising,” Ca.s.sie said as a small roadside inn came into view. A weathered sign proclaimed AUBERGE DU SOLEIL. Inn of the Sun.
The name MME. GILBERT was painted below. This was no bustling post house, merely a local tavern that served drinks and simple food and had a room or two for travelers. ”With luck, we can get a hot meal and a bath for Regine.”
”Any chance of a bath for us?” Grey stroked the dog's back. She was sprawled contentedly across his lap, having become too tired to keep up behind the horses.
”Regine needs it more,” Ca.s.sie pointed out with a smile. ”But if we're really lucky, there might be some hot water for us.”
They rode into the small yard. It was muddy, like most of northern France now that the last of the snow was melting. Though the first welcome buds of spring were beginning to appear, there was a lot more mud.
Ca.s.sie dismounted, tethered Thistle, and entered the inn. Bells on the door rang as she entered, and a st.u.r.dy, authoritative older woman came out to greet her. ”I am Madame Gilbert,” she said briskly. ”How may I serve you?”
”Good day, madame,” Ca.s.sie said in her country accent. ”My son and I are interested in a meal, a room, and perhaps a tub where he can wash his dog?”
”His dog?” The woman glanced out the window, where Grey and Regine were visible atop Achille. Grey had been trying to cultivate a vacant expression, but he wasn't very good at it. Fortunately, the beard covered most of his face.
”He found a filthy, hungry stray in the town market and wants to keep it.” Ca.s.sie gave a ”what's a mother to do?” sigh. ”Gregoire isn't quite right in the head, and having a dog calms him.”
<script>