A tale of Flynnigan Rider

Chapter 8

Antoine attempted to trot over to the river side where all of the boys were still doing their very best to be busy when there was nothing to do.

They were afraid of being beaten, clearly. Once again there was fear of him and he reveled in it. He looked about for other older boys, Eugene

- no, Eugene would not be helping them today. He was the reason for this whole mess in the first place. There. Four of them all together.

"You there. Elder boys." he called at them. They all four froze for a moment at the sound of his voice before turning obediently with their

heads bowed. Antoine could not help the cruel smile that crept up on his face. "Take yourselves away to the barn to help master Ryden to

make it a presentable place!" Three boys took off running in the direction of the barn, but Darren stood there as if rooted to the spot.

"Elder boys?" He repeated. "Am I right in understanding then that you mean for all of these younger boys to remain near the river's

edge? I can not, sir. One of them could easily fall in and drown, sir."

Antoine, for the first time that Darren had ever seen it, paused with his mouth open upon a rebuke that he was just about to deliver.

"You are right. Draw buckets of water. Your rooms need a cleaning as well and the girls should be just about finished with their sewing.

After that, take them with you, then. And see to it that they are all kept busy." Darren bobbed his head in obedience and herded all of the

younger boys about him. Buckets first, the seven to five year olds were sent for those, and Darren started drawing water withe the buckets

already crowded about. Very soon, he would be leading them into the barn - leading them to forbidden territory. He wondered greatly whether

Ryden had found any evidence of the Master's doings, and did not realize until it was too late that he had left Eugene and Kay essentially

alone with the master.

He often underestimated the intelligence of the children that were under his care, it appalled him when he realized that they thought at all. He

did not like it when one of them thought for himself, or worse yet, the other children around him. This one time - well, for this one time he

would let it fly, and hopefully there would not be too much notice taken, because after this State visit he intended to use Eugene as an

example as to why they should not think for themselves or ever cross his will. He was lucky. The few boys who might try to use their wit

against his were age wise about the same as Eugene - he was just more bull headed and arrogant than the rest of them. And as for the girls,

well, Kay would die soon, and her campaign against him, whatever it had been, had been silent and clearly ineffective. Besides, most of the

girls were younger than her and had not seen fit to rebel openly. Here girls were often more desirable to adoptive parents anyway. He

congratulated himself on his skills in putting that little upstart in her place, not that the epidemic had not been helpful. That above all else had

mellowed her out. How Eugene had managed to not fall ill with all of the rest of the house - well, it didn't matter. Antoine, though, had been far

from above hoping that Eugene would contract the fever and die from it. It was that boy whom he chose to hate, and hate him he did, far

above prudence for his own position at times. It would all be over soon enough. Wounds like that, which even he had not fully intended to

inflict, would soon fester and putrefy if left untended, which they most certainly would be once the emissary had gone. Now there was the visit

to be gotten through first. He would have a sleeping draught made for Eugene, a very strong one that would keep him quiet for hours, and put

him in the long chest in his own room. Surely there would be no need to thoroughly search the room. He could hear the young ladies

whispering fearfully when the sound of his boots were heard against the floor. Good, good. He put his hand to the latch on the door and lifted

it. The ambience did not change. He opened the door and saw them silently patching dresses, no dresses left on the floors, only those in

hand were yet to be finished. Even without Kay to guide them they had done well. He debated what it was that he should have them doing

next, whether to finish with the boys' room or to have them out of doors. The first of the young boys had begin to arrive lugging a bucket of icy

river water between them.

"Wash the boy's room next, then the dining hall, then the kitchen." He snapped suddenly at them, calling their attention immediately. Then he turned

quite classically on his heel and headed down the hall to his own room.

Right now he had to see just what Kay was up to. Maybe he had gotten lucky and the boy was dead. That would not take care of everything

though, he remembered. There would still be Kay to deal with after all, he could not count on her keeping her mouth closed now that she had

nothing to lose. She could die at any minute, and this was one time where he could not be held responsible - the girl was weak from an illness

long ago and that was the end of the story. Kay's cough could be heard from the boys' room all the way back to his own room. It didn't prove a

thing to him, only that she was still in the room, not that she would ever leave Eugene's side. She seemed to share a special bond with him,

and since their circumstances of orphaning were quite far removed from each other he could not understand why. Eugene still did not

remember the night that he had been orphaned though he was a full seven years old at the time. Even the four year olds remembered the day

that their parents were taken from them, but not Eugene. A sympathetic picture was good to cut for an orphan, but a desperate one like

Eugene's was rarely bought. He was so old that most suspected him of being a runaway and would not take him, and Eugene caused Antoine

nothing but grief. He would be more than glad when the time came for him to put that little trouble maker in the ground. As he neared his room

he was confused by another sound that was emanating from it - not Eugene's quiet, fevered moans, it was something else. Snoring, and not

coming from Eugene by the sound of it. So Kay had fallen asleep, had she? This could easily be the most difficult decision that Antoine had

ever had to make. Should he take this opportunity and move Eugene to the chest right now, move Kay out of there - the king would have no

choice but to think that she was a raving lunatic, wouldn't he? But what of what the other children would say? Would their words be enough to

launch an investigation into him? He couldn't risk that - but though he knew that he wouldn't, he couldn't shake the fear that the children would

talk of Eugene to the king any way.

Antoine braced himself and stepped through the door. Eugene was laying on his arms, face down, and there was no sound coming from

him. It was too much to hope that he was dead already, his back was cleanly and tightly bandaged. What a waste of a good sheet that had

been. Oh well, they could bury him in it. Five feet from him, Kay was lying on the floor as if to keep watch on the door, but she had fallen

asleep - quite uncharacteristic of her. He wasn't going to have any of that. With Eugene 'properly' cared for and treated, Kay had other duties

that she should attend to. None of the children were quite as good at cleaning as she was. He put his foot on her shoulder and pushed

roughly. Kay did not stir.

"Kay!" He leaned down next to her and shouted into her ear. There was still no response from her, and the longer he stood by her the

more he realized that what he was hearing was her labored breathing rather than snoring. A wicked smile curved Antoine's lips where there

should have been a look of worry. He could wish for little better than this. The two greatest trouble makers in the home and they were both

beyond speaking. Kay was in the last throws of her weakened state. She may not even awake before she died, and Antoine could not have

thought of a better ending to this ordeal than that that appeared before him. The girl's room was finished. He had but to move her back to her

bed and let her slip away. Loathingly he picked her up, taking note of how limp and heavy she was in his grip and carried her into her room.

The bed at the far end near the window where Eugene had crawled in the night before belonged to her. She may very well have seen him

come in, have only feigned ignorance when she had asked him her sleepy questions, and it was all for naught now, because now no one

would ever know what he had done, and those who did would never speak of it.