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

Chapter 37 – Flight and Seek

The hue and cry was raised. The twinkling of torches in the distance informed the escapees that their pursuers were rallying. So horsemen would be hot on their heels. Natalia pulled up short. The trails all looked alike in the darkness. Were they going around in circles? She was unfamiliar with the woods. D'Eon was almost falling from his saddle from the pain in his wounded hand. It took all his strength just to keep his grip on the reins. Robbie's steed pranced nervously. Natalia dug in her heels and took the right fork in the trail. D'Eon and Robbie followed her closely.

Were the torches nearing or going away? To their horror, they realised they had ridden in a circle and were now dangerously close to the town. Natalia whirled her horse round on the narrow trail.

There was a stray shot that flew over their heads. Shouts broke the silence. Robbie's horse stumbled in a rabbit hole covered by a thin crust of ice. Robbie tumbled agilely off as the horse fell, narrowly escaping being crushed by the beast. Dusting himself off, he ran to inspect the damage done to his steed, mindful of the flailing hooves.

"Leg's broke," he hissed grimly. The beast whinnied and thrashed in its distress and pain. The commotion had drawn the attention of the townspeople. "Get on!" Natalia urged, patting the saddle behind her. They could not leave Robbie behind.

"Leave! I will slow you down!" Robbie shouted and waved them on. "No way!" Natalia leapt off her horse. She slapped it on the haunches. The horse thundered off into the woods, neighing wildly. Her uncle did the same. Robbie shot his maimed horse in the head, ending its suffering. The trio ran into the undergrowth. Robbie grabbed a branch and swept away their footprints in the snow.

Moments later, a knot of townspeople came by. They stopped at the dead horse. Sergei stooped down to inspect the hoof prints of the remaining horses. "They went that way!" he shouted and waved the others on further up the trail. The Russian took his horse by the reins and shouldered his shotgun thoughtfully before turning back towards the town in the dim moonlight.

D'Eon bit down on his lip to keep from screaming as Robbie backed up against him, brushing against his throbbing hand. They were in a small gully. Natalia cautiously felt her way forward. It was dark. There was only a weak crescent of a moon to guide their way. The howling of distant wolves heightened their fears. It was with relief that he heard Natalia's voice.

"We need shelter… there's a water mill over there…" Natalia whispered. It was some distance from the town and they should be able to hide there for a bit.

They were in a flour mill. Sacks of flour were piled up high against the walls. D'Eon could not help but flinch at the sight of his hand when the crude bandage was peeled back. The flesh was raw and charred in places. "Looks a bit sore, doesn't it?" Robbie's words were a gross understatement. Natalia had taken some icy water in an old wooden bucket from the nearby brook. She gingerly cleaned the burns the best she could. The wounds on his forearm had stopped bleeding. Still, there was a risk that he could lose the use of his right hand.

"Uncle, I could use the poems…" his niece suggested quietly when Robbie was busy peering out through the shutters. The distant shouts and yelping of dogs hinted that the hunt was still on.

"No, don't," D'Eon shook his head. The idea of his niece using the poems still unsettled him. Natalia shrugged in reply. She tied a fresh strip of linen from her skirt around his hand and forearm.

Robbie cut open a sack of flour and kneaded dough from the flour and water. "We can't bake," he said as he patted the dough into a flat cake. "The bread will be a little rare." He handed the dough to D'Eon. "You need to keep up your strength. So don't come on with that thou-shalt-not-steal stuff."

"Come on, Robbie. Go back and- hush!" Natalia hurriedly pushed the young man into the shadows just as the mill door creaked open. It was Hans, the pageboy from Vienna. He was not alone. The trio hid behind a stack of flour sacks.

"Don't know why you would be interested in my cousin's flour mill, sir…"

Count Frederick stepped into the mill behind the boy. He sniffed the air as if catching the scent of prey. "I know you are there, so you can stop hiding and we'll get this over with." His moustache twitched as if he were nervous. When he failed to receive a reply, he cocked the handgun in his hand and casually aimed it at the boy's back.

"Chevalier D'Eon, you have a choice of showing yourself or watching him die," he called out in French.

Raising his hands, D'Eon emerged from his hiding place. "I'm here, let him go. He has nothing to do with this," he announced. Natalia and Robbie quickly and silently made use of this distraction to shimmy up a dimly-lit ladder to the rafters.

Count Frederick gave Hans a shove out the door. The bewildered lad stumbled out and the count shut the door behind him. "Now, where are your companions?" he asked.

"You were the wolf that attacked me on the way back from the priory… The real Beast is Lady Johanna, isn't it? Does she know what she has done?" D'Eon asked. There was a gunshot and the bullet brushed past his cheek.

"Yes, guilty as accused. We are a cursed lineage. My sweet innocent sister. Am I to kill her because of this curse?"

Then there was a dull thud as several sacks of flour fell from the loft, right on top of the count. Robbie leapt down from the rafters and wrested the handgun away from the count.

"You know nothing! My sister…" the count cried out. There was an unearthly howl from outside. "Lord, no! Let me go!" the count shouted as Robbie grabbed his arm. "I must stop her, before…" His words were drowned out by a scream outside the mill. The count tore his arm free from Robbie's grip and ran out.

D'Eon ran out despite his injury, but Natalia was swifter. She seized Robbie's rifle and aimed it at the dark monster savaging the page. But she did not fire it. A burst of fire erupted from the trees. The beast let loose a scream and fled into the woods. "See to him!" Natalia shouted and ran to the page. She thrust the rifle to her uncle.

Trying to keep the rifle steady in his good hand, D'Eon looked about. Count Frederick was nowhere in sight. There was a flash of white between the trees and a distant howl of a wolf. Frederick had gone off after his sister.

"Why didn't you shoot, you wretched girl?" Sergei barked as he emerged from the trees with a knot of local hunters in tow. Han's leg was a bloodied mess. Natalia pressed down on the wound trying to staunch the blood. "Tie up his leg, you goose!" the Russian shouted. While some of the men held rifles at the ready, others busied themselves fashioning a litter and binding Hans' wounds. Sergei's shot had inflicted a grievous injury to the beast. There was a severed paw near Hans. The Russian major plucked it from the blood and mud.

The paw transformed into the form of a human hand. It was a slender woman's hand with a lovely emerald ring on the little finger. There was a murmur among the townspeople who had been drawn by the commotion.

"The Lady Johanna's ring…" a laundress exclaimed. "She got it from her mother… could it be?"

"If the lady's the werewolf, where's the Count?" a young boy asked. There was no time to linger. The major shouted out orders that where readily obeyed. A hunting party would go after the wounded beast. The rest would return to their houses where Hans could have his wound treated. The cloud of suspicion had lifted from D'Eon and his companions. However, there was no joy in D'Eon's heart. He glanced off into the shadows of the woods and wondered how Frederick and his sister were faring.

"You're useless with that bad hand…" Sergei said to D'Eon. "Go back to the town and get a doctor to treat it." He patted the Frenchman on the shoulder good-naturedly and took the rifle from him, passing it to Robbie, who had just emerged from among the hunters. He raised his hand in salute to them before rallying the hunters and hounds.

"He knew we were there…" Robbie whispered. "I went to peek at the trees where they were. They have been there for a while… The mill's upwind of there. I guess they were watching us…" he shuddered. They had come dangerously close to being killed if Sergei and the hunters had decided to fire the mill or shoot them down in cold blood. At this rate, he could never meet his mentor's expectations. How could he protect Natalia if he had allowed such a threat so close to them?

The town's doctor shook his head when he saw D'Eon's hand. Hans the page fared better. His wounds should heal if he does not die of the wound fever first. The boy was lovingly tended to by his family. "I would recommend taking it off at the wrist if it goes bad… I will prescribe a salve of lambs' fat for the burns…" the doctor murmured. "All else I could suggest is to pray." A crude sling was fashioned for D'Eon's arm.

What if his hand never healed? What if he lost it? How would he ever fence or even write? He would have to use his left hand and D'Eon was right-handed. He would have to cope somehow. But he needed to work to feed and care for Natalia. He couldn't tutor if he couldn't write with a decent hand. Teaching fencing would be out of the question.

A kindly widow offered to put the French and their servant up under her roof. There was no way they could allow their guests to return to the castle, she said. Natalia noted that her eye was on her uncle's handsome looks. Robbie wasted no time in chatting up the merry servant girl who worked for the widow. D'Eon was solemn throughout their evening meal. The hunters returned with nothing to show for their efforts. Sergei commandeered the local tavern next door for the hunters. The men would spend the night there with their arms at the ready in case the beast should appear. The townspeople chose to stay with their neighbours in the sturdier houses in the centre of the town near the castle.

It was late and cold but D'Eon could not sleep. Clumsily throwing on his clothes and pulling on his boots, he quietly slipped past a snoring Robbie. He had to go out. He stepped out into the yard, just as someone stepped out of the tavern. D'Eon's breath caught when the man turned slowly towards him.

"Voronstov!"

Then D'Eon saw it was Sergei. The shadows cast by the torches from the tavern gave him the appearance of a beard and moustache. His cap was pulled over his eye at a jaunty angle, covering his eye-patch.

"So you have figured it out… de Beaumont. You do realise, that we have a matter of honour to settle with regards to my departed uncle. He was a true knight of Russia," Sergei rested his hand on his sabre hilt menacingly. D'Eon fumbled clumsily for the sword at his waist before he recalled that he was unarmed.

"Relax, I don't fight duels with crippled men," Sergei bellowed with laughter.

"Leave the children alone," D'Eon said quietly.

"I do not duel with women or little boys…" Sergei added. "Perhaps when you have recovered the use of your sword hand we can settle our scores in the manner of knights…" he spun round to face the tavern wall and began to relieve his bladder. D'Eon was about to return indoors when he caught sight of a faint gleam of light in a castle turret. He walked instead towards the castle. No one should be there now.

"Where are you off to?" Sergei asked. "You can't go unarmed!" D'Eon continued walking.

In the castle, Frederick cradled his sobbing sister by the faint light of a candle. Lady Johanna's wrist was bandaged stump. Her dress was in tatters and her hair dishevelled.

"Please kill me… I don't want to become that monster…" she sobbed. All Frederick could do was to hug her close and coo soothing words in her ear. He loved his sister, but he could not understand why she lost her awareness in transforming into a beast of the woods. He enjoyed the hunt but he always kept some part of him that was human inside the wolf. Why else would he have planned so carefully otherwise to frame the Frenchman and try to trap him in the mill? He had not expected his sister to stumble onto the boy Hans. No matter what happened, he would protect his sister.

Author's Notes:

D'Eon has figured out who Sergei resembles. Things look grim for D'Eon now with a possibly crippled hand.