Dogtanian and the Three Muskehounds is copyrighted to BRB Internacional.
THE LOST PATH
Epilogue
Gerald looked around him in interest as he arrived at the town. It was about two weeks since they had received a letter from Rochefort, requesting a large amount of money and his squire to meet him in this small town in the middle of nowhere. There had been no details in the letter, but Gerald certainly hoped his master wasn't in any kind of trouble.
He had travelled as fast as possible, ignoring how dangerous it was for a lone traveller who was carrying as much money as he was. Luckily, the trip had been an unproblematic one and all that was left was finding Count Rochefort.
Gerald had to admit that he was pleased about meeting his master again. Rochefort's decision to travel alone without him had unnerved the squire a little and he was hoping that things might turn normal again after this.
He spotted someone working outside a smithy and decided to stop there and ask for directions. Surely everyone would know of the presence of a Count and could tell him where Rochefort was.
"Excuse me," he said to the young man.
"Yes, can I help you?" the man asked. He was mostly black and white, though that was a little difficult to tell because of the dirt on him, and probably some kind of collie.
"I'm looking for Count Rochefort," Gerald said.
The young man frowned in confusion. "There is nobody by that name in our town," he said.
Gerald felt his face fall and shoulders slump. "Oh, dear. I must have come to the wrong town. My master will kill me," he said. He had been so certain that this was the right one, and the people in the previous had told him to come straight here. What had gone wrong? And what was he supposed to do now?
"So, is this Count supposed to live here? Because we don't have any nobility around this area. The towns are too small to be of interest to them," the lad told him. Gerald could very well understand that. He knew Rochefort disliked small rural towns and wouldn't stop complaining whenever they had had to stay in one in their travels.
"No, he told me to meet him here and deliver something to him," he replied.
"Then maybe he hasn't arrived yet. I would direct you to the inn to wait, but it burned down a few weeks ago and we've barely started repairing it. If your master arrives here, he's sure to pass by our smithy. You can wait here if you want," the young man said.
"Won't I be trouble?" Gerald asked, though he felt tempted to accept the offer.
"Not at all. The blacksmith is helping to re-build the inn, so I could use the company."
That was all the persuasion Gerald needed, so he got off his horse and decided to wait outside the smithy, ready to spot Count Rochefort the minute he rode past. He and the young man, Didier by his name, spent a good while talking about everything that came to their mind. Didier was good company, but Gerald found himself unable to enjoy their discussion fully. Worry about his mission was nibbling at him and the more time went past, the more restless he became.
"I'm probably in the wrong town," he said again after a few hours had passed.
"Could be. I don't really understand why a nobleman would want to come here anyway," Didier said. He put down his hammer and looked at the wooden bars that he had been working on.
"What are those?" Gerald asked.
"These will be for the new inn. The construction is going pretty slowly because monsieur Gagne, the innkeeper, doesn't have much money to do it, but the entire town is helping," Didier said.
"Oh, that's nice," Gerald commented. Unlike Rochefort, he liked these small towns because he thought the people in them formed a much tighter and more supportive community than those in big cities.
"Yeah. We also have this man from elsewhere in town, and he has promised that he's going to pay for most of the expenses, for whatever reason. Anyway, I have to be taking these to the construction site," Didier said.
Gerald frowned at the comment about the mysterious benefactor, but he didn't say anything. It sounded too much like a coincidence to him, but he wasn't about to jump into conclusions, especially ones that made no sense.
"Can I come, too?" he asked.
"Sure, I could use the help. But what if your master arrives while you aren't here?" Didier asked.
"I don't think that's going to happen. As I said, this is probably the wrong town," Gerald said. As an afterthought, he added, "And if he does arrive, he's probably going to wait for me."
So it was decided. They loaded the bars into a small cart and started towards where the inn had used to be. Gerald measured the town as they went, coming to the conclusion that it was a very charming place indeed. He liked the rural feel of the buildings, none of which had more than three floors, and how people had left their touch on everything, whether it was a curious carving on their door or simply laundry hanging from the window. Everything was so alive.
He spotted the remains of the inn long before they arrived there, and he would have been stupid not to. Black stone walls were still standing proud and there was a gap in the town scenery where the inn had once been. All debris and ashes had been cleared away, and several men were currently measuring the scene.
"What do they need the bars for?" he asked, realising that they weren't building anything yet.
"Nothing right now, but there is no room for them in the smithy. We have to store everything in the old stables by the inn," Didier replied and pointed towards the building.
The stables were a little charred as well, but they were still standing and could be used. A few men were standing by them and discussing something, but Gerald cared about only one of them.
"Hey, that's my master over there!" he exclaimed.
"What? Where?" Didier asked, turning to look around.
"Over there, by the stables. He's the one with the black hat," Gerald said. He guessed Rochefort had arrived from another direction, seen the construction site and stopped to see what was going on.
"But that's monsieur Fort," Didier said.
"You know him?" Gerald asked in surprise.
"Yes, he's been living here for a few weeks now and even ignored his trip to Spain in order to help us," Didier said.
Gerald realised that his master must have been using an alias among these people, and he felt foolish all of a sudden. Great work at revealing his secret, he scolded himself. Still, he didn't ponder that too hard because he was more surprised to realise that his master was interested in helping these people. That was not characteristic of the Count Rochefort he knew.
"We had no idea he was a Count," Didier said, sounding uncertain all of a sudden. "But I guess that explains how he has the money."
"Please don't say anything. My master must have wanted to keep his identity a secret, and I'll be in trouble if he finds out I blew his cover," Gerald said. He certainly didn't want his first meeting with his master in weeks to be filled with angry shouting.
"Right," Didier said with a nod. He was scowling slightly, but otherwise he kept his feelings hidden well. Many others would have let their surprise show.
The men had noticed them by now and Didier stopped the cart next to them. Gerald hopped down..
"I brought what you requested, uh, monsieur Fort," he said.
"It certainly took you long enough," Rochefort said. Gerald tried to read his face to find a reason to his master's odd behaviour, but Rochefort was just as expressionless as usual. He didn't even react to the name his squire called him by.
He noticed the sword hanging by Rochefort's side and almost let out a sigh of relief. He had been worried ever since Rochefort had announced retiring his sword after that duel with Dogtanian, and he was happy to see the Count was back to normal. Gerald couldn't even begin to imagine his master without a sword.
He reached into his bag and pulled out a pouch of gold, handing it to Rochefort. The Count only nodded as a thank you and turned to one of the other men, a spaniel. The others had been watching the two of them in silence.
"As I promised," Rochefort said and gave the pouch to the man, who immediately opened it and poured the contents on his hand. His eyes widened and he looked at Rochefort in shock. Gerald guessed the man had never seen as much money before.
"But… you can't be serious!" the man sputtered once he finally managed to get something out of his mouth.
"Did you think I was joking all this time?" Rochefort asked, sounding almost insulted that someone would think he found such things funny.
"Of course not, but… but I can never pay you back!" the man insisted. Gerald guessed he had to be the innkeeper.
"I'll take that free room for life," Rochefort remarked, referring back to something Gerald didn't know. He looked carefully at the other dogs present, an orange dog who was probably the blacksmith, the innkeeper and a few other men. It was obvious that they all knew Rochefort, and the squire couldn't help wondering how the Count had been able to tolerate the company of common people for so long. He was very curious to hear the whole story, but knowing his master, he would never get all the details.
"But…" the innkeeper tried once more, but Rochefort was no longer listening. He turned his attention to Gerald instead.
"We're going north as soon as you're ready to travel," he said, which in practise meant right away.
The innkeeper looked surprised to hear that. "You're leaving, monsieur Fort?" he asked.
Rochefort nodded. "I have spent enough time here. I have things to do elsewhere," he replied.
"Surely you can stay for one day longer! Amélie and the others will want to say goodbye, and I just can't let you leave with an empty stomach after all you've done for us," the innkeeper said.
Gerald was expecting Rochefort to decline, so he lifted his brows in surprise when he heard his master agree after a moment of hesitation. He could only shake his head at that and wonder what had happened.
Rochefort had been pleasantly surprised to notice that his squire had had the sense to keep his real identity a secret. Though Gerald was a good servant in every possible way, there were times when he cursed the man's somewhat slow wits.
"Sir, there is also this letter for you," the squire said once they were out of earshot.
The Count took the letter and grimaced as he recognised his sister's curly handwriting. He considered throwing it away without reading it, but he guessed it would be less painful for him if he knew what she had written the next time he saw her. He opened the letter carefully, only to see that it was very short.
Dear Henri,
How are you? If I find out that you've wasted this money on women and drink, I will personally skin you alive and then push your sword down your throat. I hope we will see each other again soon.
Your beloved sister, Isabelle
He stared at the letter for a while before folding it into two and slipping it into his pocket. It was difficult to tell whether Isabelle was really angry with him, but he wasn't going to test his luck. He would have to wait at least a month or two before going home again.
"Sir, where are we going tomorrow? Back to Paris?" his squire questioned.
Rochefort had thought about it a lot during the past slow weeks in the town, and he had come to the conclusion that he wasn't going to feel like himself again before he had settled his business with Dogtanian. He couldn't imagine himself duelling with the man again, but there were things he wanted to say to him.
"Yes, we're going to Paris," he said.
The End
