Fortunes of France: The Brethren by Robert Merle

Author:Robert Merle [Merle, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781782271277
Publisher: Pushkin Press
Published: 2014-09-11T00:00:00+00:00

Following my father’s orders, Pincers came to Mespech without baggage of any kind during the night, having told no one of his destination. He had been scarcely a fortnight within our walls when Monsieur Guillaume de La Porte arrived at the first drawbridge, accompanied by five men-at-arms, and requested to see the Brethren.

“Messieurs,” said the magistrate gravely as soon as he was introduced, “there is a rumour running about Sarlat that you have kidnapped and sequestered the curate of Marcuays to prevent him from saying Mass.”

“This is a rumour whose feet should be cut off, Lieutenant,” replied my father, “so that it may be prevented from running madly about, besmirching our good name, even as we do our Christian duty for this poor priest by saving him from the gallows.”

And leaving Sauveterre to explain things, he went to fetch Pincers, who confirmed everything with endless effusions of gratitude towards his hosts for all the goodness they had bestowed on him. He appeared in the most excellent form, glowing with portly splendour and health, his face reaching new shades of crimson, since la Maligou, who served him in his room, had plied him with extra wine and brought him the choicest cuts of meat.

As Jean de Siorac accompanied Monsieur de La Porte to the drawbridge, Catherine, who had been playing with her dolls near the well, ran up, her blonde braids flying behind her, and took my father’s hand, but said not a word, having exhausted her entire store of courage in accosting him in this way.

“My Lord,” said the police lieutenant, “I see that you are constructing a second wall around your moat. At such a moment, these new bulwarks are causing people’s tongues to wag.”

“They’re wrong again, Lieutenant. Mespech’s doors will always be open to the king…” (and he looked him straight in the eye) “and to the royal officers. But the Paris parliament has outlawed the reformers and I might have to defend myself against certain of my neighbours.”

“Ah, you’re worried about Fontenac,” said La Porte, frowning, “and you’re not wrong to do so. There’s no worse little tyrant in our provinces, yet he is so well supported by the bishop and even at the court that I can do nothing about him. Do you realize that when someone in his family falls ill there’s not a doctor in Sarlat that will dare to venture into his lair for fear of not getting out freely or even alive?”

My father returned from this conversation, holding Catherine’s fresh little hand in his own, happy to see her so pretty and lively, but finding no words to tell her, so great was his love for her. As he took his first step into the courtyard, Alazaïs appeared before him, looking quite wild, a full head taller than he. She said in a most abrupt tone: “My Lord, I must speak wi’ you about this excrement of a priest.”

“Well?” Alazaïs glanced at Catherine, and leaning forward spoke a few words in my father’s ear which caused him to start.

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