Battlesaurus (29 page)

“Gronnier,” the captain says. “Captain of the Guard, Medical Division.”

“I am Dominique Larrey, chief surgeon,” the doctor says.

“Jacques Claude,” Claude says. “I am the mayor of this village.”

“How can I help you, Captain?” Gronnier asks.

“I bring orders from my general,” Baston says. He looks around to make sure no one is within earshot. “He comes soon to this village. No one is to leave until he gets here.”

“No one, Captain?” Larrey says. “But we are in the middle of evacuating a hospital.”

“No one,” Baston says.

“I must protest, Captain,” Larrey says.

“You may protest all you want, sir. The village is to be sealed,” Baston says.

“I will not allow it,” Larrey says. “We do not have the facilities to properly treat these people here. They must be evacuated.”

“I have my orders, sir,” Baston says.

“And I have mine,” Larrey says.

“I answer to General Thibault, and he answers directly to the emperor,” Baston says.

“Sir, it is clear that you are poorly informed,” Larrey says. “I am Dominique Larrey, Commander of the Legion of Honor and Chief Surgeon of the Imperial Guard. On matters of health and medicine, the emperor answers to me.”

Baston holds his poise for a full minute, then bows his head.

“The wounded shall continue to be evacuated,” he says. “But ensure that no natives attempt to slip out with them. Pay particular regard to any boys or young men who may try to escape.” He stops, noticing H
é
lo
ï
se. “Who is that?”

Gronnier smiles and taps the side of his head with a finger.

Baston scrutinizes the girl for a moment. She sees him looking and growls at him like a dog.

“I shall remain here to ensure the general's orders are carried out,” Baston says.

“Who is it that you are looking for?” the captain of the guard asks.

“A boy who can talk to saurs,” Baston says. His eyes move quickly to the mayor, who has suddenly stiffened. “You know who this is?”

“I do not, sir,” the mayor says.

“The emperor of France knows of this child,” Baston says, “yet the mayor of his own village does not?”

“Perhaps your emperor is mistaken, sir,” the mayor says.

“The emperor is never mistaken, monsieur,” Baston says. “And he is also of the belief that somewhere in your village lies the carcass of a crocodylus.”

“A what, sir?” Larrey asks.

“A giant saur, bred and trained for battle,” Baston says.

“Ah, that Thibault,” Larrey says, with sudden understanding and more than a little distaste. “I have not seen a dead dinosaur here, and I daresay it would not be easily missed. But then again, I have been a little busy. As I am busy now.”

He turns and hurries away without excusing himself.

“I do not know what you are talking about,” Claude says. “A dinosaur, in Gaillemarde? Look around, see for yourself.”

“We will, monsieur,” Baston says. “As soon as my general and his men get here. In the meantime, tell your people that they may not leave the village. Not for any reason.”

“Of course, Captain,” Claude says, and bows a little as he leaves.

Baston waits till he is out of earshot, then says, “I will personally inspect every wagon.”

Turning to tend to his horse, he sees a young man walking toward him.

“Fran
ç
ois, is it not?” Baston says.

“Monsieur, I do not know you, and you do not know me,” Fran
ç
ois says quietly.

“So be it,” Baston says. “Tend to my horse, and I will walk with you as you do.”

Fran
ç
ois nods, and takes the reins of the animal, leading it to a water trough. He finds a rag and wipes the dust of the journey from the horse's hide.

Baston makes a show of looking for something in the saddlebags.

“Is the boy in the village?” he asks.

Fran
ç
ois nods.

“Where is his home?” Baston asks.

Fran
ç
ois looks to his right and says, “The one with the fire lit.”

Baston looks and sees a house with smoke trickling from the chimney. He raises an eyebrow. It is too warm for a fire.

“His mother is a baker,” Fran
ç
ois says.

“Thank you, Fran
ç
ois, you shall be rewarded,” Baston says.

“My reward will come when Europe is united under our great emperor,” Fran
ç
ois says.

“So it shall,” Baston says.

 

COOPERATION

Fran
ç
ois slips quietly into the church through the priest's door. He stands at the back of the sanctuary, behind the altar, hidden from view by thick velvet drapes. Behind him sunlight streams into the church through stained glass windows, casting a mottled, colored light over the altar and the polished floors.

“Give up the boy,” Monsieur Lecocq is saying. “They will bring dogs and those dogs will find the grave of the dinosaur. We must give up the boy.”

Most of the menfolk of the village have gathered in the church. Monsieur Claude stands beside the pulpit.

“My son has already died because of this,” Monsieur Lejeune says. “Now you would sacrifice Willem as well?”

“We don't know why they want the boy,” Monsieur Beauclerc says.

Monsieur Lejeune shrugs. “I doubt they wish to see his magic show.”

“It was Jean and Willem who slew the beast,” Monsieur Lecocq says. “Jean is already taken from us. That only leaves Willem. If we hide him then the whole town will suffer.”

“How do they even know about the boy?” a voice calls from the congregation.

Fran
ç
ois shrinks back behind the curtain, afraid to breathe. He stares at the figure of Christ on the cross.

“I don't know,” Monsieur Claude says. “But it is clear from the captain's words to me that they do.”

“They will need something. Someone,” Monsieur Lecocq says. “They will not be appeased by the spirit of a dead boy.”

“We can turn Willem over on condition he comes to no harm,” Monsieur Claude says.

“You would trust the French?” Monsieur Lejeune asks.

“They treated us fairly when we were under their rule,” Monsieur Lecocq says.

“Lecocq, you would use your tongue to clean French arses,” Monsieur Lejeune says.

“And, Lejeune, you are a puppet of the Dutch, who do not even speak our language.”

“This is not about the French, or the Flemish, or the Dutch,” Monsieur Claude says. “It is about the penalties that will be exacted if we do not cooperate with this army that has invaded our country.”

“Give up the boy,” Monsieur Lecocq says. “Before it is too late. If they find him first, then we will suffer.”

Father Ambroise stands and walks up to the sanctuary, next to Monsieur Claude.

“You would do this?” Father Ambroise asks, shaking his head. “You would even say this, in a place of God?”

“Do we have another choice?” Monsieur Claude asks. “But we must be fair. We will take a vote.”

“I will not be part of this,” Monsieur Lejeune says. The door of the church slams so hard that dust jumps and hazes the air as he leaves.

Fran
ç
ois waits for a moment, then quietly slips back out through the priest's door.

 

KITCHEN

Willem hears the front door open, then quiet voices in the kitchen. He has been packing a bag for the journey, and takes it with him as he goes downstairs.

H
é
lo
ï
se sits on the floor in a corner of the kitchen. She eats a bread roll, crumbling it between her fingers.

Willem's mother is crying.

“What is it, Mama?”

She takes a moment to answer.

“A French officer has arrived at the gates. He has sealed the village. No one may get in or out except the wounded British soldiers.”

“Why?” Willem asks.

“I warned you that word of your deeds would escape the village,” his mother says.

“What are you talking about?” Willem asks.

“They are looking for you,” she says.

The room seems to grow cold with those words, and Willem digests them slowly for a moment before responding.

“I should have heeded you,” Willem says. “But now it is even more important than before for me to leave.”

“Now it is impossible for you to leave,” his mother says.

“I am a magician, like my father,” Willem says. “I will make myself vanish.”

“You are flippant when you should be serious,” she says.

“If I am in danger, then surely you are in danger also,” he says.

She nods. “I know. Neither of us is safe here.”

“Come with me,” Willem says.

“Perhaps you can make one person disappear, but not two,” she says. “I will go to the river for water, and slip away into the forest when they are not watching.”

“You are sure?”

“Of course,” she says. “I have escaped from Napol
é
on's men before, and I can do it again. I, too, learned a few things from your father.”

They are both startled by footsteps on the path and turn, expecting only to see soldiers and muskets, but it is Lejeune.

“Willem, you must leave the village,” he says, as he enters.

“I know,” Willem says.

“The mayor will make a sacrificial lamb of you,” Lejeune says, “in the hope of appeasing the great French gods.”

“Claude does what he does for the good of the village,” Willem says.

“The mayor is a weak-livered goose,” Lejeune says.

“That also is true.” Willem smiles.

“They are watching the gate,” Lejeune says. “No one may leave.”

“So I have heard,” Willem says.

“Go and find Fran
ç
ois,” Lejeune says. “He has a way to slip out of the village that nobody else knows about.”

Willem shakes his head. “No. I will find my own way. The fewer people who know of this, the better.”

“That is true,” Lejeune says. “Take this.”

He hands Willem a small sack. He hesitates in his offering, almost reluctant to hand it over. It is heavy. A glance inside shows why. It contains the pistol and ammunition pouch. Willem places them carefully in his bag.

“Are you sure?” Willem asks.

“You remember how to fire it?” Lejeune asks in return.

Willem nods.

“Try to get to England,” Lejeune says. “You will be safest there. Show your bewitching ways to the British. Teach them how to fight the dinosaurs.”

“That is my plan,” Willem says.

Willem's mother moves suddenly to him, embracing him, crushing his arms to his sides. Her grip is so tight that Willem can scarcely breathe.

“Go now,” Lejeune says.

“Willem is all I have,” his mother says through tears.

“Willem is all we all have,” Lejeune says.

His mother lets him go.

“Go to Antwerp, Willem. There is a woman there you can trust. Her name is Sofie Thielemans.”

“My father's teacher?” Willem asks.

“The same. Did your father speak of her?”

“Many times,” Willem says.

“Good. I will meet you there in a day or so. She will help us arrange passage to England.”

“How will I find her?” Willem asks.

“Avenue Quinten Matsys. Number twenty-five. Do not write it down. If you are captured and the address is found, that will put her life in danger also.”

Willem nods, and quickly commits the address to memory.

“I must go,” he says.

She hugs him one more time. “Goodbye, my son. I will see you in Antwerp.”

“Goodbye, Mother.”

“On your way, say goodbye also to Cosette,” she says.

“Cosette, why?”

“I am not blind.” She smiles. “You cannot just disappear from her world as you would disappear from Gaillemarde.”

“I cannot bid her farewell,” he says. “She would ask questions. It would put her life in danger.”

He hopes to avoid Cosette altogether, but cannot. As he leaves the house she is opening the gate, returning from the hospital. She wears a white smock streaked with blood.

“What is happening?” she asks. “The saur-gates have been shut, in the middle of the day.”

“The French have locked us in our own village,” Willem says.

“Why?” she asks.

“Who knows?” he says. “Who can understand the mind of a Frenchman?”

“But you are leaving?” she asks.

“No one may leave,” he says.

“Then why do you have this bag?” she asks.

“I take food to the wounded,” Willem says, and moves past her, carrying the bag as lightly as if it contains nothing but bread.

She stops him with a hand on his arm and leans in to him, kissing him softly on the cheek.

“Goodbye, Willem,” she says.

“I am just going to the hospital,” Willem says.

“I know,” Cosette says.

 

THE ESCAPE

The hospital cart is an uncovered wagon with a two-horse team. Three soldiers lie sideways across it, tended by a young nurse.

One of the soldiers has lost an arm. Another is blinded. The third has an arm in a splint.

It stops at the saur-gate, and Captain Baston climbs up onto the running board, casting his eyes over the patients. He draws a leather-bound notebook from his satchel and makes notes, then catches sight of Larrey and waves him over.

“I am Captain Frost of the Royal Horse Artillery,” the blind officer says as Larrey is walking toward the gates. “Who is it that delays us?”

“Captain Baston of the Imperial Guard,” Baston says. “And with respect, sir, you are my prisoners, and I shall delay you for as long as I deem it necessary.”