Disclaimer: The characters of Le Chevalier D'Eon do not belong to me. Appearances by original characters and tweaking of historical facts.

Chapter 36 – Escape from the Castle

Natalia studied her cell door intently. With a small smile, she reached into her boot. She silently thanked Robbie for his foresight. He had slipped a small bodkin into her boot that morning when they discovered the body of Hans' grandmother under the pretext of peeking under her skirt. "It is a precaution, my lady. In case, the beast lurks nearer than we think," he had said when she confronted him about it later. He was right. She could not expect to carry a firearm or sword within the castle.

Gritting her teeth, she set to work picking the lock with her needle-sharp bodkin. Robbie and D'Eon had no chance of retrieving their weapons before they were taken.

The rest of the castle was quiet. Count Frederick sat watchfully in his study. His sister meant everything to him, the last of their lineage. Some may call it a cursed lineage. He has done his part for the Revolutionary Brethren to honour his father's memory. Gold and firearms awaited dispatch. When 'Count' Cagliostro and his lady wife leaves… how would he continue maintaining Johanna's slipping sanity? Frau Ilse's ability as a poet was nowhere near theirs…

Locking his dear sister up was the last thing he wanted. The urge to hunt, to be free, to roam the dark forests was the very essence of their souls. Yet no female of their line had managed to master the hunger that threatened to devour their humanity. Johanna was too gentle. His wounded shoulder ached. He had not counted on that young manservant and the girl interfering in the woods. The Frenchman should have died then, his throat ripped out and his corpse left for the wolves and ravens in the depths of the undergrowth. He growled, fangs itching. No, he must control himself…

The doctor was a mistake on his part. He had let his temper get the better of him. Frau Ilse still remained loyal and unquestioning of his actions but for how long? No, Ilse was loyal to their family.

A shriek announced his sister was awake. Frederick leapt to his feet, fighting the urge to drop and run to her side on all fours. Johanna, wide-eyed with terror, burst through the door and into his arms.

"Blood… oh, so much blood…" she moaned and shuddered against him. "You were to help her!" Frederick snapped at the apologetic Cagliostro and his wife.

"Your sister's condition is most difficult to treat…" Lorenza replied tartly. "Your governess has no skill as a poet at all." It was true. Frau Ilse's strength lay elsewhere.

"Tell me, Frederick… am I the monster? I have dreams of blood and slaughter," Lady Johanna moaned and buried her tear-streaked face into her brother's shirt. The count soothed his sister with gentle words. Lorenza shrugged and left with Cagliostro on her heels.

"How long must we linger here?" Cagliostro complained. "The wine here is of poor quality and Major Sergei is an uncouth ape…Did you see what he did to me after he lost at cards?"

"That was because he caught you cheating… Never mind, we will be on the road by morning. The count will most likely hang our French friends and send his sister off to some asylum where they will keep her locked up…" Lorenza replied. Robespierre had sent his new instructions. They were to leave for Paris. The pair did not notice Frau Ilse hidden in the shadows. The German poet murmured a soft curse and stepped in the direction of the dungeons. It was time to check in on their French guests.

"D'Eon?" D'Eon opened his eyes. To his surprise, his sister stood before them. A soft glow surrounded her as she glided over to him. She nodded at him. "I must be dreaming…" D'Eon murmured.

"Maybe," Lia replied. Another shade appeared beside her. This one was not a welcome sight. Maximilien Robespierre, the man who betrayed France. "He is the man I love, D'Eon," Lia said as if she sensed his discomfort. Silently, Maximilien Robespierre took Lia's hand in his. "Stay away from Versailles, D'Eon," Lia warned. Her tone was as if she were talking to that rash teenager he was so long ago when she first left for the court.

That did it. "I am stuck in a dungeon waiting to be mostly likely flayed alive and you are worried I may be returning to Versailles?" D'Eon exclaimed.

"You'll get out of this little problem, D'Eon de Beaumont," Maximilien said wryly. "Someone will be coming for you soon. If you must go to Versailles, keep our daughter away from that cursed place."

"You were the one who got Lia with child and if you had not turned traitor…" D'Eon lashed out to hit Maximilien. With a world-weary sigh, Maximilien caught D'Eon's arm in his hand. "You're wasting time and effort…"

"Sir D'Eon, wake up!" Someone was shaking him. D'Eon awoke to Robbie shaking him. "You were talking in your sleep about Versailles and all that rot… Gosh, you've torn open your wound again." The boy was right. Blood was oozing through his sleeve. His arm felt numb and cold as if it had been gripped with a claw of ice.

Someone was at the trapdoor, casting a shadow into the cell. D'Eon shifted uneasily. Flaying was not a pleasant way to go. Robbie smiled. "You don't seem to be worried," D'Eon remarked.

"Well, Miss Doris told me my fortune once… I am to hang in chains till the birds pick my bones clean. Since they don't hang werewolves…" Robbie finished with a shrug. There was a flash of golden hair at the bars. Natalia bent down and tried to pick the lock. The two prisoners below got to their feet and hurried to the trapdoor.

"Told you that bodkin will come in useful…" Robbie grinned.

"Hush, I can't pick the lock…" Natalia replied.

"Give me that," Robbie took the bodkin and drove the point into the keyhole. There was a dry click and the trapdoor gave. Reunited, the trio stood on the stone floor.

"The stables, we have to leave…" D'Eon suggested. "We need weapons first," Robbie added. "Never mind that!" Natalia chided. Her voice boomed off the stone wall.

"Sh!" D'Eon hurriedly clapped his left hand over his niece's mouth. "So you have escaped without my help," a woman's voice announced in heavily-accented French. In a swish of skirts, Frau Ilse hurried down the stairs.

"What are you here for?" Robbie asked suspiciously. He raised the bodkin in his hand as if it were a dagger.

"I came to apologize… I did not know what he had planned…" the woman bowed. "I came to free you before it is too late. You were meant to die."

"So it is true. Count Frederick is the wolf? And perhaps the Lady Johanna too…" the French knight asked. The woman nodded. "Go to the stables. I will get your arms," she added and hurried off.

"Can we trust her?" Robbie asked. "What if it is a trap?"

"We will have to risk it," D'Eon replied. Natalia frowned. "Beware those who bring gifts..." Major Sergei had warned. Had the Russian be referring to Frau Ilse? She had brought the soup up to her uncle and that soup was most likely drugged. They had no time to ponder that now. Natalia hitched up her skirts and ran after her.

Sergei watched bemused as three shadowy figures scampered across the courtyard. He lifted his rifle and aimed. Yes, he had a clear shot from the parapet where he stood. If he had a mind to, he could pick them off one by one. He held his fire and waited.

"Frau Ilse? Take Johanna back to her rooms…" Frederick looked up at the governess' entrance. He ran a loving hand through the raven-dark tresses of his sister as she slumbered with her head pillowed on his lap. "The prisoners will be leaving us. Have you any wishes with regards to this, my master?" Frau Ilse bowed.

"Send them on their way as you see fit. But first, I must return my sister to her rooms." Frederick deftly cradled his sister's limp body in his arms.

"As you wish, Mein Herr…" the governess retreated from the room.

They expected the guards to come thundering anytime. Robbie had readied the swiftest and sturdiest steeds in the stable and the youngsters had mounted. Only D'Eon remained. Instead, they were only greeted by the sight of the governess slipping out of the kitchen door with their weapons in hand. With a smile, Frau Ilse offered the weapons to D'Eon, who instinctively reached out to receive them.

"Merci," D'Eon thanked the governess. Natalia spotted a glint in the woman's eyes. "Uncle D'Eon! Get away from her!" she screamed. The warning came too late.

D'Eon's right hand closed on his sword and a sharp pain shot up his arm. Their weapons had turned into a red-hot mess of molten metal. The pain caused him stagger and fall on his rear. Yelling in agony, he dropped the molten lump but he knew the damage had been done. He plunged his wounded hand into a pile of snow. Meanwhile, the governess had turned into a human torch.

"Burn in hell…" the woman whispered as tendrils of flame licked at her flesh as if from within. With blackening arms, she reached out to pull the mounted teens from their saddles. Robbie pulled his reins. His steed reared and kicked, knocking her off balance. He brought the hooves crashing down on the governess. Taking her cue from Robbie, Natalia joined in trampling the now-smouldering corpse into the snow.

"She-devil, I liked my rifle!" Robbie slipped off his horse to deal the blackened skull a kick. Natalia was more concerned with her uncle. D'Eon's hand looked bad. There was little she could do but bind it up with a strip of fabric torn from her dress. The frightened horses neighed and shuddered. Natalia cooed soothing words into their ears and stroked their noses to calm them.

"Hullo there! If you're going hunting tonight, best take a gun," Sergei called out, surprising the party below. Frau Ilse's actions had caught him by surprise but he could not help admiring the English lad's presence of mind in turning his steed against the poet. "That was some good horsemanship, lad. Take this!" he allowed his rifle and powder horn to fall over the parapet. It landed on the snow near Natalia, who regarded it with caution.

"Take it, my lady. It wouldn't bite," Sergei laughed as he strolled off in the direction of his room. "Good hunting to all, de Beaumont," he tossed his words over his shoulder as an afterthought.

There was a thunder of galloping hooves. "It would appear your guests have urgent business in Vienna," Sergei shrugged as Count Frederick came running at that unwelcome sound.

Milien yawned and pored over the Duke's letters. Master Robespierre was busy drafting a petition for the easing of the bread tax. Duke Louis Philippe of Orleans had not seen his new wife since he came back from the palace in a foul mood. The monarchy was imposing more taxes. Milien was not too pleased with what he had observed in Versailles as well. Etienne, innocent young knight, was responding to the queen's flattery where he should not. Sir Rochefort had noticed that too and had given Etienne a talking to, which the redhead captain apparently chose to ignore. Milien had to admit he did feel a fondness for the Rocheforts. He would hate to see them in trouble.

He became aware of the Duchess peering mouse-like at the door. Oddly, it reminded him of how Charlotte used to peer at him when Madame Roland was teaching him and Camile their letters. "Sir, it is late… Leave these letters to us," Milien placed his hand on the duke's shoulder. He nodded slightly at the door as the duchess drew away, ashamed at being caught.

"Oh," the duke coloured. "Very well… Goodnight, gentlemen…" he left the study.

"Milien, what was that for?" Robespierre asked. "I thought His Highness could use some time to enjoy the company of the duchess… while it lasts…" Milien replied and pulled out the book of Psalms from its hiding place in the duke's study table. It was a wonder the psalms had not called out to the duke at all. Perhaps something had indeed changed after all and the Psalms were no longer favouring the royal family, not even the duke who had felt so much for the masses.

"What about you and Charlotte?" Robespierre asked. Charlotte's feelings for the blond clerk were getting more obvious by the day. The girl had tried to win a place in the duke's household as a maidservant. Madame Roland had intervened and packed her off to be apprenticed to a dressmaker. Charlotte reminded him of Lady Anna in her all-encompassing love and admiration of Milien. Heaven knows that lad was cold towards her. Robespierre wondered if that was something that happened to all girls when they fell in love. Had Yvette ever been in love with him? Thinking of Yvette brought an ache to his heart.

"No. It will be less pain for her that way," Milien shook his head sadly.

"Madame Roland and her husband are in the city. Jean Paul has taken lodging above the Defarges' tavern," Robespierre told his charge. "The time is nearing."

"Not only that…" Milien closed his eyes and pictured his sister, uncle and their manservant racing through a winter-cloaked forest. His uncle held his injured hand in his coat and clutched the reins with his good hand. Lia led while the manservant held the rear with his rifle.

"You know, Duke Louis Philippe would make a wise king… and the duchess is a sensible lady unlike our spoilt little Austrian princess," Milien playfully spoke of treason. "God grant him grace…"

"We are done with God-graced kings, Milien…" Robespierre chided in a whisper.

Author's Notes:

Looks like D'Eon and Natalia have escaped. But have they? Is Sergei going to remain their ally for now?