The Ruby Talisman by Belinda Murrell

Author:Belinda Murrell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction/Historical General
ISBN: 9781742740621
Publisher: Random House Australia
Published: 2009-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

13

Paris

The stench of the Parisian streets was overpowering– wafts of rotten vegetation, sewage, manure, putrid garbage, decaying flesh.

They turned into a larger square, flanked by tall buildings. The horses shied as they cantered into the deserted plaza. Juju whined and sniffed the air. There was a sudden movement from the shadows and two men scuttled away out of sight, carrying mysterious bundles.

A smashed pearl-grey carriage lay on its side, the leather traces cut. There was no sign of the horses that had pulled it. Detritus lay on the ground: broken glass, a smashed lantern, feathers from a torn cushion, a white wig, horse manure, splinters of pearly paintwork.

Beside the wreck, a man’s body lay crumpled in a pool of blood, his purple livery torn and stained. Both shoes were missing.

A noise creaked eerily in the evening breeze. Tilly looked up and screamed.

There, hanging from the lampposts, were three bodies. Tilly could tell from their pallid skin that they were aristocrats, their hair curled and coiffed and their faces – both male and female – painted with makeup. Their fine silks and satin shoes were gone, as were their stockings and stays. They were dressed simply in pale lawn chemises, like nightgowns, gleaming ghostly white in the lamplight.

Henri grabbed Mystique’s and Angelique’s reins and led the horses out of the square. Tilly eventually stopped screaming and sobbed instead, doubled over the pommel of her saddle. She had never imagined death would be so vivid, so shocking, so violent.

Tilly’s tears fell onto Mystique’s pale-grey neck. She clung there, gradually calmed by the horse’s warm skin, the comforting smell of her sweat and the gentle rhythm of her walk.

They headed north into the centre of the city. The streets grew wider, the buildings more elegant. The sinuous, brown River Seine wended its way before them, shimmering in the darkness. Henri led them to a stone bridge that arched across the river.

Gas lanterns glowed from the lampposts. They passed the golden facades of palaces and mansions, dark gardens and parks and open boulevards. Small knots of people pressed into the shadows, watching their passage suspiciously.

‘Over there is the Palace of the Tuilleries,’ whispered Henri. ‘To the left are the Petit Palais and the Grand Palais.’

Tilly merely nodded, her bones aching with weariness, her mind and heart shocked by the scenes of violence and brutality she had witnessed in the last twenty-four hours. Amelie was swaying in her saddle with exhaustion, Claudette supporting her. Even Mimi was limp.

‘Courage, mes amies. We are nearly home,’ Henri encouraged. ‘Hot baths, clean clothes, a delicious supper and bed.’

The horses sensed the surge of hope and quickened their step, lifting their feet and arching their necks proudly.

At last they trotted up a wide avenue lined with plane trees and tall, stone mansions. The street lanterns had not been lit. Most of the mansions had their shutters closed and gates bolted.

Henri halted at the arched double doors of one grand townhouse and knocked loudly. There was no response.

Henri huffed in annoyance and rapped again more vehemently.

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