Happy 4th of July everyone! I'm posting two chapters tonight because they're short.
Stay safe!
Chapter 29
The bucket was tossed aside and landed in a heap near the foot of the tavern owner. The building was a complete loss. The flames had consumed the wooden structure, the items within, and both buildings on either side. The people of the village stood helpless, frustrated, and heartbroken while rain continued to pound the ground and mud puddles grew in size. Rain ran in streams from the rooftops and collected near the foundations of homes.
"Fools!" Monsieur Ozann shouted. His tavern was gone, and he looked at his wife, who cried and dabbed at her eyes with her apron. Her double chin quivered with every quick intake of breath. "You blindly chased away the very men who might have been able to help us!"
Two night fires blazed in the center of the road, and several villagers stood around them. The shifting of the flames caused their faces to morph.
"We were after members of the gang!" A man shouted from behind the crowd. "And why would musketeers run?"
Madame Clorette tightened her grip on the shawl around her shoulders and turned suddenly. "Anyone with any sense will run when chased by a mob! Two men against the lot of you!" Her voice echoed, and she looked at those she knew, those who had behaved badly, and those who were just as terrified. "They were here on a mission from the king. Our king! And in your rage and need for revenge, you chased them from our village… And now," she shrugged and looked at those who stood homeless and looked at the buildings that had been lost, "we're on our own… again."
"Someone said they were members of the gang… someone said they had seen them — I was there, I heard what was said."
"By whom?" Lilith wiped her eyes. "It wasn't any of us…" she looked at them. "It wasn't any of you. So, who said it?" She looked at her husband, the ash that marked his face and had been smeared across his bald head. "Strangers have been arriving in our village for weeks! And then suddenly, someone makes a random accusation and everyone…" Her eyes grew wide as her anger increased, "Every one of you!" She pointed toward the men who had chased after the musketeers. "Went after them with the intent of doing them harm. Shame on you!"
"We should be standing together!" Olaf said. He stood on his wagon, looked at his wife and their children. "Those men said they would take our concerns to their captain, who then might have taken them to the king." He waved his long arms. "Four people are dead because of it. While you were chasing the innocent, you left the village, our homes, our children exposed…" he looked at the burned remains of the buildings. "You took the words of strangers over the words of your neighbors — your friends."
"What do we do?" Monsieur Neveu said. The owner of the livery scratched the back of his head and then looked at the soot on his hands and dusted them on his britches. "What do we do?"
"Somebody here has to know someone who knows a member of that gang… They've been after locals, locals with certain goods — someone needs to know something!" Olaf cleared his throat and reached for his wife's hand. "I'm begging you to step forward."
The crowd grew quiet except for the hitched breaths of Millie and Lilith, who, despite their different rolls and professions, stood together and comforted one another.
A young man near the back of the crowd cleared his throat, looked at the faces of those who turned to look at him and said, "Willim… Willim Matton. He's one of them."
Hushed whispers sounded, and then Olaf cleared his throat and raised his hands to quiet the crowd. "Let's meet in the stables. Monsieur Neveu — may we?"
The livery owner nodded, waved his hand, and then started his walk toward the stables. "Follow me," he said over his shoulder. "Let's make some plans!"