Chapter 21

The Best Laid Plans...

Genevieve was lucky in her choice of followers. Almost all of the boys and younger men who had come along had thought to bring what weapons they had, just in case. For a few, that meant their guns, but for those who neither owned a gun nor could borrow one from their fathers', the weapon of choice was an ax. They found a good-sized tree and set to work at it with a will. Though only two of them could work at a time, they were all so eager to be helpful that they each took turns landing their ax-blows and, long before any one man could become tired, the tree began to wobble. The whole affair had taken all of fifteen minutes.

The tree fell with a satisfying thud that resounded throughout the forest. Genevieve smiled grimly, hoping that the castle's inhabitant had heard the sound and was afraid. She did not know how the Beast was keeping the doors shut, but she was extremely displeased to find her will thwarted and would, under no circumstances, allow a stupid, ugly ball of fur to best her in any way. In her deepest heart, she was already mortified at how Ger had chosen that hideous creature over her, had chosen to try and protect it. The man was insane and deserved to be locked up in an asylum.

Or so she kept repeating to herself. She was well aware that imprisoning him was the only triumph she had left over him, having failed to secure either his admiration or his aid. She hated him bitterly for having refused her and knew that the sweetest moment of her victory would be when she rode to the Maison des Lunes, dressed as only a princess could dress in the finest of silks, with the diamond tiara on her head and with a cloak made from the fur of the Beast draped around her shoulders. He would be dearly punished for refusing her.

She had not told anyone of her plans for the Beast just yet. It would be best to allow its death to play out naturally. In Genevieve's mind, they would break down the doors to the castle and immediately find themselves face to face with the monster. There would be a short battle, one that ended with the Beast dead on the floor at their feet and the villagers free to loot the castle as they saw fit. There was no reason for her to even give them directions; it would be better for all involved if they took their initiative at this point. Genevieve was relying on everyone being excited enough at the prospect of easy wealth that they would not hesitate to kill the Beast. After all, why should they?

With so many people willing and eager to help out, the trunk was soon stripped of its branches and hefted onto broad shoulders.

Genevieve stood to one side and crossed her arms over her chest, content to watch as her army did her bidding. She was, quite possibly, the perfect general, able to command her forces without even speaking her orders.

Behind her stood Laliene and the other five women, unconsciously mimicking Genevieve's pose as they watched the men with expressions ranging from guarded approval to open admiration. Muscles strained, men grunted and, at the command of Jean-Luc, they charged forward and brought the battering ram up hard against the strong, oaken doors of the Chateau du Lac. They shuddered, but did not open.

The men drew back for a second assault.

Ger had made his way through the slightly overgrown walkways into the vegetable garden and, from there, into the castle kitchens. The door was unlocked and the kitchen was empty, except for the large oven who sat fuming in the corner.

He turned in confusion as he saw the door open and was about to bellow, when he recognized who the intruder was.

"Monsieur Ger!" he shouted in almost as loud a voice as he had been about to scream in. "You're back!"

"I've come to warn you," Ger said immediately. "There is a mob trying to break into the castle and kidnap you all."

The oven fumed. "So that's their evil plan. How dare they!" he roared, sending up a great gout of flame that made Ger leap back. "You must stop them!"

"I plan to," Ger answered. "Where's Alix?"

The oven suddenly looked a bit shifty. "I'm not sure. I think there's a council of sorts going on in the large dining hall. I wanted to attend, but I can't because I'm bolted to the floor!" He sent up another flare.

"I'll go and look for her, then," said Ger, a bit relieved to escape from the danger of singed eyebrows. "And don't worry, we'll stop them." He beat a hasty retreat, stopping only to say "If anyone tries to come in this way, do whatever you can to stop them."

"I'll burn them to a crisp," the oven promised gleefully and Ger was gone.

Alix was not in the dining hall, but almost every other movable object in the castle was. Ger could understand why they had chosen to hold this meeting in this particular room – he doubted that any other could have held so many people within it.

Lumiere was standing on the table as if it was a stage. "We must fight to defend ourselves," he was saying in a brave and only slightly trembling voice. "If those villains wish to storm our castle, do they think we will not fully oppose them?"

The objects looked around fearfully. They had been rallied swiftly to this room, gathered up with strange speeches about danger and invaders. And now Lumiere was asking them to fight? Fight who? Fight how?

There was a sudden, loud crash that rattled the windowpanes and made everyone jump.

"What was that?" Cogsworth demanded fearfully, and his question was echoed throughout the ranks of the objects.

"That was the sound of a falling tree," Ger answered, his voice pitched to carry. It was a familiar sound to someone who had spent the last two years chopping his own wood. All the faces in the room, even those hidden in the grains of wood or the fabric of a pillow, turned towards Ger.

"Monsieur Ger!" chorused Lumiere and Cogsworth. "You've come back!"

"You're all in grave danger," said Ger, striding to the table and pressing his palms flat against it as he leaned forward. "The villagers have stolen the magic mirror and found out about you. They wish to kidnap you to live in their houses and work for them or sell you at fairs for a profit."

The objects gasped in horror.

Cogsworth gasped. "Those unspeakable...rascals!"

Lumiere said something much worse, but at least it was under his breath.

"What must we do?" asked Babette, swishing over to Ger and gazing up at him.

Ger looked at all those faces, which were now fixed on his own. He gulped. He wanted to continue his search for Alix—he would feel better if he knew where she was and that she was safe. Actually, he would feel best if he knew where she was so that he could protect her. He had seen the look on Genevieve's face and knew that, out of anyone, she was in the most danger of being killed.

He would rather die than allow any of them to harm her.

On the other hand, he found himself thinking, perhaps he could protect her after all. He was standing here with a veritable army of people who could use their own bodies as weapons. The townsfolk did not seem to understand that the objects were not just mobile, they were also sentient and could respond to threat. They could defend themselves.

Ger closed his eyes and, feeling horribly guilty at the choice he was making, opened them again. "We need to defend ourselves," he said. "There are only forty of them and over one hundred of us."

"But they're bigger," objected a soup tureen.

"But they're not expecting us to fight," Ger countered. "They're going to try and grab you, but they will not be waiting for you to clang your lid down on their fingers. They don't understand that you're people."

The objects looked at each other, puzzled and hurt. They were people, weren't they? Weren't they?

"So we'll use that to our advantage," Ger continued, a bit oblivious to the atmosphere in the room. "We'll teach them a lesson about making stupid assumptions."

Lumiere nodded his head vehemently in agreement. "Mais oui," he said, flourishing his candlesticks. "We will be brave and strong, we will not go down without a fight. Centuries from now, they will be singing our praises of how we faced down the most fearsome of enemies."

Ger couldn't help but snicker. "I'm not sure if it will go that far," he said. "Remember, they are simple peasants and we far outnumber them. All we need is a little organization."

Ger had never plotted out a battle before and, to be perfectly honest, was not quite up to the task of doing so right now. Fortunately, Cogsworth had a perfect genius for creating battalions of servitors to clean rooms and serve the household and, as soon as he wrapped his head around the idea of hindering guests rather than helping them, proved to be absolutely indispensible.

They had a mere ten minutes before they heard the first shuddering thud of the fallen tree against the castle doors.

"That's the signal," said Cogsworth, who had somehow managed to turn up a General's cockaded hat and was wearing it at a rakish angle atop his clockwork head. Ger had no idea where he had found the thing or when, since the clock had been directing his fellow servants non-stop. Perhaps he had delegated someone to find it.

"You all know what to do, right?" He eyed them all with an eagle eye. The objects nodded, heartened by Cogsworth's obvious enthusiasm for the task at hand. They split up into three flanks, divided primarily by size. The smallest objects, like cups, forks, spoons, hairbrushes and their ilk, were the rearguard. They hung back in the hallways and sitting rooms to ambush anyone who made it that far into the castle. The largest objects were slightly in front of them, waiting behind doors and by entrances to leap out at any of the invaders who would try to get further into the castle. The plan was to seal them off in the main entry hall and force them back out through the front door. As Lumiere pointed out, if they had to roam through the castle to find all the invaders, the Lord only knew how long they would be at the task. They could not cede any ground, they needed to oust them before they even got a foothold.

Ger agreed; the most important part was making sure that every last villager was accounted for. The second most important was making sure that no one managed to snatch up a stray silver spoon or gold-rimmed saucer. That was why the littlest objects were placed so far back—they were too vulnerable.

It would be up to the vanguard, led by Lumiere and Cogsworth who were currently putting their neverending rivalry to good use as they did their best to come up with the best possible plan of attack, to drive their enemy out the door and convince them that they would not be taking the castle or its inhabitants.

Lumiere and Cogsworth were the smallest of the vanguard, made up of brooms, mops, end tables, chairs, trunks, a carpet or two, soup tureens, an entire horn section, several serving pieces, toasting forks, tongs, an axe, and a frying pan larger than Ger's head, to name only a few. They were a ragtag bunch and did not even have uniforms, but Ger could see that they were an army.

They heard the low thud of a battering ram slamming against the doors of the castle. "Dismissed!" bellowed Cogsworth (which was certainly recognizable as a bellow, even if it was a bit on the high and squeaky side). "Go to your positions!"

Ger watched at they marched off; almost wishing he could join them in the defense. The castle was his home too, far more of a home than the village had ever been. Also, he felt useless remaining behind. He knew that the role he was to play would only be necessary if everything went wrong in the main battle and so he remained in the kitchens, with all the small and fragile objects who needed protection. He was the absolute last line of defense—him and the oven and the knife-blocks. When they had been forming ranks, the knives had first stood with the vanguard, arguing that they might have been small, but they were powerful.

That was when Ger got scared and it finally dawned on him what they were doing. He had used the term war, but he hadn't really meant it. "Absolutely not," he said, his voice tight. It was all, suddenly, going too far. "We don't want anyone to get killed."

"But they're going to kidnap us!" one of the knives clanged angrily. "We should be allowed to defend our home too."

"Monsieur Ger is right," said Lumiere. "The last thing we wish for is bloodshed. The candelabrum looked pale, not that Ger could really tell. The knives glared angrily. "Unless, of course, you wish to be responsible for the widows and orphans these men left at home."

"They are fools," said Ger, "But they are not evil. They simply don't know any better. We will teach them, but we will not harm them, is that clear?"

There was a wave of assent, some half-hearted and some heartfelt. But they listened. And Ger watched carefully to make sure that all of the knives were where they were supposed to be.

He wondered, for the first time, what would happen if a china plate shattered or a wooden broom handle snapped. Would they die? Were they alive to begin with?

"I'm sorry," he said to one of the china cups, who was bouncing around the kitchen, all fired up with energy and completely lacking any forum through which to express it. The cup either did not hear him or simply did not listen. "I'm sorry any of this had to happen." If he had just snuck in and freed his father without alerting anyone, this never would have happened. Ger pulled a face. No, he'd had to go try to reason with his neighbors. He'd had to try and do everything in as large and loud a way as possible. He hung his head in his hands. Why were people so stupid?

And he included himself in that broad statement—he had been just irresponsible as everyone else and now look at where it had gotten him!

"What is this behavior?" exclaimed a familiar, motherly voice from behind Ger. He turned around to see Mrs. Potts glaring angrily at the little teacup. "I will not have you dancing around like a performing monkey when the castle is under attack. You will sit down and keep quiet or you will go to your cupboard."

"Yes Ma'am," the cup said meekly and hopped over to hide behind one of the knife blocks.

"Mrs. Potts," said Ger happily, turning to face her and sitting down so he was level with her perch at the kitchen table.

"Ger," she said warmly, "Welcome back!" He was sure she would have hugged him had she had the arms. "It is good to see you again."

Ger smiled. "It's good to be home," he agreed. "I'm only sorry it could not be under better circumstances. I assume you've heard about our current situation?"

Mrs. Potts nodded. "Babette came to inform me. I was looking for Chip and I hoped he had the sense to come-"

Ger clapped his hands to his mouth. He had completely forgotten. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Potts," he interrupted. "I should have told you immediately. Chip is with my father, outside the castle gates."

Mrs. Potts stared at him. "But, how is that-"

"He hid in my rucksack when I left last night," Ger explained. Had it only been twenty-four hours since he'd been dancing under a chandelier with Alix? It felt like weeks. "I discovered him when I got home."

Mrs. Potts did not know whether to laugh or cry. "That foolish boy," she said, shaking her head and blinking away a tear or two. Ger handed her a napkin that volunteered for the job. "What in heaven's name could he have been thinking?"

"Umm, I believe he wanted to make sure that I would come back," Ger offered. "It was very sweet of him if wholly unnecessary...and completely irresponsible."

"Quite," Mrs. Potts said with a sniffle. "He and I are going to have a nice chat about that when I see him again." Ger gulped. He would not want to be in Chip's shoes when the little teacup's mother got her hands on him.

"But did he really think I would not return?" Ger found himself asking. He had been puzzled by Chip's comment the night before, but had not had the time to dwell on it then, or any other time since. "You didn't doubt me, Mrs. Potts, did you?"

"No," she answered honestly, "I didn't."

Ger heard the inflection on the word "I" and, after a moment, it dawned on his who probably did. "Alix," he breathed softly. "But...I told her I would come back. Doesn't she realize..." He trailed off, not sure what lay at the end of that path.

Mrs. Potts hid a smile. "Perhaps you should go up and see her."

"But I have to stay down here," Ger protested. "I promised Lumiere and Cogsworth that I would stand guard and I wouldn't want to leave you alone for the attack."

"Someone needs to warn her Grace," Mrs. Potts said.

"She doesn't know?" Ger nearly gasped. "But I thought Lumiere said-"

"She knows about the attack," Mrs. Potts answered. "She doesn't know about our planned defense."

"And if she comes down in the middle, the villagers will kill her," Ger said, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. There was no way on God's green earth he would allow that to happen.

"You must go up and warn her," said the teakettle decisively. "I'll stay down here and keep an eye on things." She turned her gaze on the other members of the kitchen all of whom, even the stove, cowered just a tad.

Ger smiled and was about to race out the door when an almighty crash shook the castle.

"They must have breached the doors!" shouted one of the knives excitedly. The others nodded in agreement.

"Damn!" Ger swore. He could not go out in the midst of the battle. If the men from Molyneaux saw him here, he would be in as much danger as Alix. He slammed his fist against the door.

"Take the servant's stair," Mrs. Potts called, pointing towards a small door near the scullery. "It will take you to the rooms on the second floor. If you keep heading West, you'll end up in her Grace's suite."

Ger was through the door and out of the kitchen in a flash, forgetting everything but the need to get to Alix and reassure that everything would be fine. That he would make sure everything would be fine.

His feet pounded up the stairs and he found himself in a warren of unfamiliar passages that had been built to allow the serving staff to move unseen throughout the castle. They were small, close hallways that made Ger feel trapped and just a little bit like he was back in D'Arque's caravan. He took a deep breath and steeled himself. He had a mission. He strode forward, remembering Mrs. Potts' hasty directions and praying he would not get lost.

Genevieve could barely restrain her cheers as the castle door shuddered one last time and finally splintered open under the force of their blows. The men groaned with relief and dropped their makeshift battering ram as swiftly as they had dared. That first attack had taken them far longer than they had expected and they were now tired and in a foul mood.

Their first glimpse of the castle more than made up for it, however. The late afternoon light filtered into the cavernous stone halls of the Chateau du Lac. They stood before a long, red carpet that flowed over the floor and up the stairs, leading deeper into the castle. The hall itself consisted of rows of stone arches, each one packed with all sorts of bric-a-brac. Candles, chairs, tables, even a dresser or two seemed stacked higgledy-piggledy in every niche in the room.

Genevieve, along with her companions, peered around in the gloom. There was a treasure trove here—mirrors larger than she had ever seen, chests and chairs worked in precious metals, even a few musical instruments.

"Well?" Genevieve said, glaring around. "What are you all waiting for? Get me a light and we'll begin our explorations."

Laliene, always ready to oblige, reached for a three-armed candelabrum, while saying "But Genevieve," in a rather plaintive voice, "I thought you said the objects were going to move."

"Now!" shouted the candelabrum, bursting into flames in Laliene's hand. She dropped it with a small squeak and ran to hide behind Genevieve.

The villagers stared open-mouthed as every single piece of furniture in the room came to life and descended on them. The battle was on.

T.B.C.

And we still haven't gotten to the actual fight. I think this story does not want to end. Or I think I don't know how it ends yet and am subconsciously stalling for time. Or maybe, just maybe, this really needs to be as long as it is. Who knows?

But the end is drawing near, only three to four more chapters after this one. And, if all goes well, I should be back to once a week updates, now that I'm back home and no longer jetlagged.

Fingers crossed.