Armand’s First Letter. Amelia’s First Letter. Cathy’s First Letter.

17 April 1024, L’Isle du Grand-Blaireau

Amelia,

Things have happened to me here in Armorica that never would have happened to me in Nexing Cross. I am grateful for these things most of the time, but this week I confess I am less so. Though your brother rose to the occasion, as he usually does.

One of our guests this past week was a man—I shall not call him a gentleman—from Mont-Havre, here to see about buying some small delivery wagons for use between the harbor and various points in the city. There was something off about him from the moment he set foot in the Sloops. He was too much: too cheerful, too merry, too familiar. His glance lingered rather too long on Corinne, Eloise, and much too long on Bessie, young as she is.

The folk of Bois-de-Bas are a great deal more familiar in their manners than I was once used to, but then, until I came here I had not encountered much true friendliness since my childhood. I have come to see that what I at first called being overly familiar is simply a neighborliness and a willingness to be pleased—a willingness to be friends. And I see it all the more clearly now that I have met M. X, for so I will call him, for he truly is too familiar, and while there is in him a great desire to be pleased there is no true friendliness. On the contrary.

I was approaching His Nape’s cubby for our nightly dram when I heard him say, “I won’t pretend I don’t know what you are asking for, monsieur, but I assure you will not find it here.”

And then M. X’s voice, oily and ingratiating: “Come now, M. Montjoy! Vous êtes un homme du monde, a man of the world. I am sure you can find me a pleasant companion for tonight. Perhaps you will not have to look far, n’est-ce pas?“

“This is not Toulouse, monsieur, and glad I am of it. Now, I must ask you to return to your room; the public areas of the inn are closed for the night.”

There were more words to follow, but I scurried into my own cubby and sat in the dark until I was sure M. X had gone. Then I joined His Napes.

Jack saw the look on my face as I sat down across from him, and grimaced. “You heard, then.”

“I did.”

“Good. I shan’t need to repeat his words, or to tell you to keep an eye out this evening. I couldn’t bounce him out tonight, or who knows what trouble he’d raise down in town, but he surely will not be welcome here again.”

I nodded and eyed the dram he had just poured for me. “I’d best keep my wits about me,” I said. “I’ll go warn the others.”

“Quite right,” he said.

Bessie was shocked, Corinne irritated, and Eloise just said, “Oui, c’est un homme diabolique,celui-là. I shall keep watch with you.” Bessie and Corinne locked the door to the room they shared, after which I heard them dragging something across the doorway; and Eloise and I sat down in mine with no light but the glow from the wood stove, and conversed quietly. We left the door unlocked, but we each took up a stout cudgel of wood from the wood bin.

We sat there for perhaps on hour before we heard steps sounding hollowly on the board walk that led to our quarters. We turned to face the door, cudgels in hand. Our intruder proceeded along walk, trying each door in turn. He gently rattled the door knob of Bessie and Corinne’s room, but to no avail. Eloise’ door was unlocked, and we heard him enter, but finding it empty he did not linger. Then he came to my door, and swung it open as quietly as he could.

I do not know what he intended to do, whether to persuade or to force, but whatever his plans he had no time to carry them out. Eloise, quick than I and wiser, had positioned herself facing the door square on; and when it opened she stepped forward, holding one end of her cudgel in both hands, and rammed the other end into his chest and pushed with all her might. Which, I may say, is considerable. M. X, for of course it was M. X, staggered back. Backpedaling wildly, trying to regain his balance, he vanished off the edge of the walkway and landed on his back on the hard ground several feet below. 

He was still struggling to catch his wind when His Napes and M. Henricot took him in hand, for they too had been keeping watch. They hauled him away and locked him in his room, and at dawn the next day took him down to Bois-de-Bas and left him and his pile of luggage on the green in front of the church. His Napes made a stop to explain the situation to your cousin Armand.

“It’s a pity,” he said to me that evening over our dram. “Bois-de-Bas has no official magistrate or constable, so duties like this all fall on the Mayor. That’s Armand again this year. I suggested to him that Bois-de-Bas has grown big enough that it needs a constable and a lockup, and magistrate whose decisions will be respected in Mont-Havre.”

“I presume he agreed?”

“Oh, entirely.” Then he eyed me seriously. “I’ve been thinking, darlin’. You and the girls are too exposed, there in your quarters. What happened last night was bound to happen to some day; and now it has.”

“I know you, Mr. Napes,” I said, yawning at him over my dram; I’d had no time to catch up on my lost sleep. “You’d not have said that if you hadn’t a plan. What is it?”

“You’ll remember that the bridge from the landing runs through both sloops and to the other side of the river. Back in Armand’s day, that was open air all the way through; we added doors while building the inn, and since then we’ve kept that far door securely locked.”

“Well, yes. There’s nothing over on that side except the lookouts from the war.”

“There will be. I’m going to have the lads working on the waterfall path stop and clear a plot of land for us. We’ll move the staff quarters over to that side, with a bathhouse for staff use only. The door will remain locked, but you’ll each get a key; and we simply won’t allow guests on that side of the river.”

“I approve,” I said. “Can we afford it?”

“We have to. I promised Captain Allen that Bessie would be safe here; and while you and Eloise can handle yourselves, you shouldn’t have to. Armand agrees. In the meantime we’ll add stout bars on the doors of your quarters. M. Henricot will see to that tomorrow.”

“I’ll sleep all the better for it, I may say.”

“That you will, darlin’. I’m certain of it.”

So that was our excitement for the week. My room is warm but not especially pleasant, having been built in a rush during the war; I have every expectation that my new quarters will be more comfortable in every way.

Your intrepid correspondent, 

Cathy

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