Page 58 of The Storybook Hero
“Well then, let’s get on with it,” said Octavia, taking up Emma’s hand and moving off towards the faint scent of smoke.
The French soldierswere huddled in a group around a single campfire, either too cold or too disheartened to have posted a proper sentry. The two cloaked figures ghosted out from among the trees and were within a dozen paces of the crouched men before someone gave a cry of alarm.
“Grace a Dieu! Ne tirer pas!” cried Octavia, her hands flying to her breast as several muskets were leveled at her. Little exaggeration was necessary to appear a female on the verge of hysteria, she thought wryly as she continued. “Oh, ma petit, nous sommes sauf!”
Emma gave a very credible shriek of relief, then collapsed in a swoon worthy of a Radcliffe heroine.
The French officer was already on his feet, pistol in hand, and approaching the two women.
“The partisans attacked our platoon—my daughter and I became separated from my husband in the fighting,” explained Octavia in hurried French, hoping that any odd pronunciation would be thought the result of a mouth too frozen to move properly. For good measure, she caused a few tears to run down her reddened cheeks, an easy task as the cutting wind was already making her eyes water. “P-perhaps you know him—Colonel Lesveque, from Rouen?” she added, kneeling down beside Emma’s prostate form and chafing the girl’s hand between her thick mittens.
“Non, madame,” replied the officer rather warily. His gaze flitted uncertainly from Octavia’s distraught face to the small form lying in the snow. “What regiment?”
Grateful that she had paid some attention to the newspaper accounts of Napoleon’s movements across Europe, Octavia immediately came up with a name. She could only hope that the long march into Russia and the recent battles had created some measure of confusion within the French ranks.
Apparently satisfied that the two forlorn figures presented no threat, the officer slowly returned the pistol to his belt. “I fear our troops have become sadly disorganized in the past few days—I had not realized they had been shifted to this flank of the army.”
He bent to assist Emma in getting to her feet. “Please, allow me to help with thelittle one. I-I have a daughter nearly her age at home.” A shy smile and a whispered ‘merci’ from the girl caused his voice to grow even more wistful. “Thank the Lord you stumbled upon us, Madame Levesque, and not some band of those bloodthirsty Russian savages.” He gave a pained grimace. “Come closer to the fire. Our fare is naught but a thin gruel but at least it is hot.”
“How kind,” murmured Octavia, feigning a slight swaying as she, too, rose. “O—Oh….”
Just as she hoped, the officer was quick to offer his support. “Many thanks, sir,“ she added, taking firm hold of his arm. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted that Emma had dropped back several steps and followed close on her heels. “I knew I might count on the honor of a Gallic gentleman to help two ladies in need.”
He smiled, then turned to give a brief order to his men. Octavia stumbled again, falling with an awkward lurch sideways that twisted the man’s arm behind his back. An exclamation of concern interrupted his words, and he looked back quickly?—
Only to have the cold steel of a pistol barrel pressed up against his temple.
“No one move, else your captain will suffer the consequences.” Octavia was pleased that her voice sounded a good deal steadier than she felt.
Recovering from his initial shock, the officer swore and started to pull away from her hold.
“Freeze!” The metallic click of the hammer being cocked was quite audible above the hiss and crackle of the burning pine. “If you wish to see that daughter of yours again,” she added in a lower voice, ”I suggest you do as I say. No doubt she would infinitely prefer a live father to a dead hero.”
Although another oath sounded, he ceased all movement.
“A wise decision. Now order you men to lay down their weapons over there.” She indicated a spot several paces away from the fire. ”Then have two of them harness the horses to the sled.”
“Madame, are you mad?” he began to argue. “Think on it. If the cold doesn’t kill you and the child, the wolves—or worse—will. Whoever you are, you would be wiser to remain with us. Even if you are Russian, I give you my word?—”
“Watch out—his pistol!” Emma clutched at the officer’s sleeve, preventing his hand from stealing around to the weapon tucked in his belt.
Mouthing a silent curse at herself for having forgotten such a crucial detail, Octavia quickly snatched it away from his grasp. Several of the men had edged toward their muskets during the brief distraction, and although they were now still, she noted the furtive glances they were exchanging with their commander. Sensing that control of the situation was in danger of slipping away, she acted without hesitation.
The barrel of the second gun smashed across the officer’s cheek, hard enough to draw blood. She then jabbed its barrel none too gently up under his throat. “No more tricks! If you think I won’t pull the trigger, you are dead wrong. As youcan see, I am very desperate and very angry—not a good combination in a female, especially one who holds a weapon at your head.”
He swallowed hard, then slowly repeated her orders to his troops.
As soon as the muskets were stacked and soldiers had retreated back to the fire, two shadowy shapes slipped out from among the surrounding trees. “About bloody time,” muttered Alex, handing one of the weapons to Nicholas while keeping his own gun trained on the huddled men. “A pretty speech indeed, but must you always indulge in a flair for the dramatic?”
“Forgive me if I stumbled a bit in my role,” she snapped with some sarcasm. “I have had precious little practice in subduing a platoon of enemy soldiers.”
He moved to her side, a lopsided grin coming to his haggard face. “All things considered, the critics give you a standing ovation. I shall, however, take over the lead from here.” Taking one of the pistols from her numb fingers, he pushed her gently aside. “Help Emma gather up some of the blankets and rations.”
“You are … English!” stammered the officer in some disbelief. “What in the name of the Almighty are you—” A nudge of the pistol caused him to fall silent.
“Don’t ask,” sighed Alex as he watched Octavia and Emma stow several armfuls of supplies into the sled. “I doubt you would believe it, even if I were to tell you the truth.” Ignoring the man’s look of complete bafflement, he motioned to Nicholas. “Put the muskets into the sled as well.”
“Mon Dieu, y-you don’t mean to leave us unarmed in this godforsaken wilderness!” exclaimed the officer.
