There were dogs running, snapping at him, not far behind and closing. The vegetation was only vines and creepers here, and all of it catching at his legs, slowing him down. Men calling to each other, firing shots, the musket balls whizzing past him. His man tripped over a root and fell.
"Get up, man! Get up!"
He grabbed at the man's arm only to find that he hadn't fallen because a root tripped him. His dead eyes stared up at Anthony, his blood oozing from the wound in his chest and over Anthony's hand.
The hunt was getting ever nearer. Reluctantly, he left his friend and ran even faster this time, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, his breathing like fire in his throat. They were catching up with him, getting closer, closer…
He managed to cut his waking scream short. It was only through long practice that he did, most of the time. Perhaps eventually he would be able to stop the calling out altogether. Stopping the nightmares completely seemed like a wish too far.
He rose to find the water jug that Stewart would've left for him, but he hadn't even doused a cloth to soothe his face when he heard the chamber door being opened stealthily. Like a panther he paced to his bed and withdrew the dagger he kept under his pillow, then hid himself expertly among the shadows.
"Anthony?" whispered a quiet voice.
Good God, it's Edith! What the devil…?
"My dear?" he answered as levelly as he could.
"I heard a noise. I … I just wanted to make sure that you were alright." She came further into the room looking for him.
He stepped into the room, hiding the dagger behind his back.
"I'm perfectly alright, thank you, m'dear. What are you doing up?"
"Just...just...I...it's just that I..." She stopped and took an audible breath. "I sometimes walk past your door, at night, when I can't sleep." She looked up to him, although in the darkness she couldn't see his face.
"What?" he asked incredulously.
"I come by to try to hear your breathing, but I never do. I just need to be near you. To think what might have been."
The silence became solid, like lead between them.
"Anyway, I'm fine. Thank you. Would you like me to escort you back to your own room now?"
He moved towards her, and she suddenly almost sobbed "What happened, Anthony? What was it that killed your love for me?"
Out of awkwardness and his surprise, he drew himself up to his full height, then answered very quietly "I don't know what you mean, m'dear. I have nothing but affection and respect for you."
"Can you deny that you have changed, completely, since the days of our courtship? You used to be the sort of man I could depend upon, for support, for warmth and compassion, who would understand about my family. And now..." She came to a halt and he realised that she was weeping, but still he couldn't bring himself to give in though his heart was screaming at him to comfort her. Instead he rebounded to the other extreme.
"Why did you betray your sister to the French?"
She bowed her head and responded so quietly that he had to lean towards her to hear.
"Ah, so that's it."
Her voice was so resigned. It was a confession. His face creased in anguish.
"So you admit it?"
She looked up and regarded him sadly for far too long; she said nothing, turned and left.
…
"Gentlemen, the de Neuvillettes are being held in the Bastille, which we all agree is too great a target even for us. Therefore, as usual, we have the choice of whether to intercept them either from the prison to the court, from the court back to the prison, or on the day of the execution. In this instance, I believe that the day of execution is the best option."
Anthony looked around at his League. All good men and true. He did not want to put any one of them in danger, but they had volunteered to assist him with his work, and he knew that he could not achieve anything without them.
They were gathered in a private back room of Boodle's gentlemen's club, a place that they could all access easily, and where they were expected to frequent, where gathering would not be out of place. The French spies that Anthony knew haunted London could infer nothing from gentlemen in twos or threes entering a discreet entry off St James's Street.
"I must advise you that I believe it would be prudent if those of you who accompany me on this mission, do not take part in the most important rescue that will face us after this."
There were murmurings at this announcement.
"Gentlemen, I understand. I know that you all want to be a part of that particular mission, but the fact remains that the more we visit France, the more our faces, however disguised, will become known by the agents of the Terror. I ask you to trust and obey me for your safety as much as for the success of our operations, and especially that one."
The voices quietened at that, just as Anthony knew they would. These were brave men, but they were also reasonable, intelligent men. He wouldn't have chosen any other type to serve in the League.
…
The de Neuvillettes … the Comte and Comtessa, their anguished teenage son, and two daughters so young that they didn't seem to know what was going on around them … were taken from their cells and down to the back courtyard. The guard held the Comtessa by the arm and guided her towards a cart. The Comte and his children followed meekly behind. The driver looked a gruff sort with a patch over one eye and his cockaded hat pulled down low over his brow.
"Five more for you, Citizen" said the soldier in a bored tone of voice.
"Is there any end to them, do you think, Captain? Or are they breeding inside that prison?"
"Oh, there'll be an end to them alright. These are a Comte and Comtessa and three brats. Be careful that you take them to the right place!"
"That I will, Thom m'lad. That I will."
With that the driver snapped the reins and the cart moved off. The driver ignored the sounds of weeping and despair from behind him as they and an escort of two mounted soldiers wove their way through the backstreets of Paris. In fact, so distracted was the Comtessa that she had no idea what was happening when the cart stopped in the shadow of a tall building and the escort urged them to alight as fast as they could.
"It's alright. We are the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel. We're here to rescue you" said one quietly.
"I know this is going to sound ghoulish, but I assure you it is for your own safety" urged another, standing aside and revealing a second cart loaded with six coffins.
"Please be calm; we want you to lay inside the coffins, as a disguise you understand, to get you out of Paris."
Although it sounded horrible to her, the Comtessa bent down to her children and explained that this was going to be a game of hide and seek, and that they had to be very quiet or they would be heard and they wouldn't win. That seemed to do the trick for the two youngest children. The son and the Comtessa, scared stiff though they were, also allowed themselves to be placed within a coffin and the lid secured. The Comte, however, wanted to swap clothes with one of the faux escort.
"It is my duty to defend my family!"
"And you will do that most effectively, my lord, by hiding as your family have done." When the Frenchman still didn't move, Andrew looked up at Anthony in exasperation.
"You will be placed on top of your family, sir. If we are inspected they will find you first, and your sacrifice will give us a chance to rescue your wife and children." Anthony's appeal to the Comte's sense of honour seemed to convince him, finally, and he laid down and was hidden from view.
"Thank heavens for that!" exclaimed Geoffrey, helping Anthony to place the sixth coffin on top of the others.
"Indeed. Now, Geoffrey, go and meet up with Tom, and Andrew and I will see you at the rendezvous this afternoon" said Anthony, taking control and once more establishing a sense of confidence among his men.
They split up as they had planned. Half an hour later, the cart and its one remaining escort presented themselves to the Captain of the Guard at the Porte Saint-Martin.
"Halt! State your business!"
"I'm selling oranges" Anthony deadpanned looking at the coffins. When that fell flat he continued "Oh, for goodness sake! What does it look like? Can't you see I've got beheaded Aristos here for burial?"
"All carts to be inspected, by order of Citizen Robespierre."
"Good God! I come through this gate a dozen times a day with bits of dead bodies! Do you expect to 'inspect' my cart every single time?"
The smug Captain shrugged. "Orders is orders."
"Oh well, alright then." The driver sighed, tied up his reins, pushed the lid of the top coffin open and reached inside.
"Here, catch!"
He pulled out a severed head by its hair and threw it at the Captain, smattering congealed blood on his uniform. He flinched, wide-eyed, and then was badly sick.
"There's more if you want it" sneered the driver retrieving the head from the ground at the Captain's feet and replacing it in the topmost coffin.
"Get out of here, moron!"
"And I'll see you in about two hours with the next head!" Anthony called over his shoulder.
…
Twenty minutes later, once they had reached the safety of the woods, Anthony judged it safe enough to release the de Neuvillettes for some fresh air while they waited for Geoffrey and Tom Branson to meet them with their horses.
"That was truly abysmal" stated the Comte.
"Effective though, sir" said Andrew.
"Was that really...?" the nobleman began. Anthony quickly stopped him. "Don't. It's a painful truth that we can't save everyone."
They shared a fortifying flagon with the family, and left them to talk amongst themselves.
"Tom and Geoffrey are taking their time, aren't they, Anthony?" asked Andrew.
Anthony drew out a pocket watch and shook his head slightly. "Not awfully so. We'll give them a little longer before changing plans." But at that moment they heard galloping hoof beats. Geoffrey thundered into the clearing leading enough extra horses for the party to make their way to the coast.
He was alone.
"Geoffrey?" asked Anthony, his voice quiet but commanding.
"The news that the family hadn't arrived for execution got back to the prison in record time. They must have put some sort of relay in place that we didn't know about. I got out just before by pure chance, but the authorities identified Tom as the other guard involved. He's been put under arrest."
"Oh God!" exclaimed Andrew.
"Do they know he's one of us? Do they suspect he's not just a careless French soldier?"
"I don't think so, Anthony. I...I really don't know."
"I will come back for Tom, but right now, we have a duty to the Comte and his family. Ride Hell for leather for the coast and my ship. Don't let the Comtessa or the children fall behind. These woods will be crawling with soldiers very soon. You lead, Andrew, and I'll take the rear."
And I'm going to have to tell my wife's sister that I've failed to protect her husband. Damn!