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La Belle Christiane

2011 copyright by Lyn Cote

All rights reserved

Chapter Eleven Scene 1

The common room of the inn was almost empty. Over-tired from her first night and day on the road, Christiane had overslept. Most of the other travelers must have left around dawn, she thought as she ate her rich porridge and thick slab of bread. She had been apprehensive about spending the night at the inn, but a few moments inside the door and she had been re-assured. It was a prosperous commercial inn, not one to encourage riotous behavior. Sipping from her pewter mug of creamy, sweet tea, she felt almost wealthy. Last year she had begged her way through New Jersey. This year she had the few pence it took to purchase bed and board. But she sat as close to the warming fire as was safe. She dreaded going out in the cold. The late November sun shone brightly through the few windows, but the wind, whining through the leafless trees, sounded willful. From what she’d overheard in the inn, the Continental Army had moved to northeast of Philadelphia.

Finally Christiane rose and walked as masculinely as she could to the innkeeper’s thin wife. Her account settled, she and Nancy, both well-fed and rested, turned onto the road to Philadelphia. Christiane hummed as she reviewed the previous days. All had gone smoothly. The few people she had encountered had accepted her as the callow youth she wanted to appear.

After winning the battles of Brandywine and Germantown, the British had taken control of New Jersey and eastern Pennsylvania and had taken Philadelphia as their headquarters. She was quite aware that she was riding through enemy-controlled territory. She just as soon have by-passed the big city, but all roads led there so she had no choice but to go to the city and then find her way to Valley Forge. She’d overheard the other travelers talking about General Washington setting up his winter headquarters at Valley Forge. The Forge’s position was a good one, easy to defend and close to the enemy, but unfortunately for the Continental Army, the English had already picked the area clean of provisions.

But Christiane felt that the enemy control of Philadelphia would work in her favor. She would tell Henry that friends of the Richardsons had brought her as far as Philadelphia, but since, Christiane had not wanted to put Henry or any other officer in danger, she had merely traveled the short distance from Philadelphia to the Forge by herself. She permitted herself to smile a bit smugly.

She was certain also that in a few weeks she would persuade Henry to marry her and send for Jean Claude or perhaps she would leave her son with the Richardsons and visit them often. Everything in her life would fall into place at last. She would have the kind of husband she needed and her son would be re-united with her.

A few hours down the road, she boarded a ferry at the Rappahanock River. The memory of crossing ice-filled rivers the year before as Washington’s army ran for its life flashed vividly through her mind. Once again this year the Revolutionary forces had been pushed back by the invading army. But she had no doubts about the men she had worked with. They would not give up the fight till their independence had been won.

On the other side of the river, Nancy plodded on down the lonely winding road with its thick growth of leafless trees, crowding it on both sides. Tired, Christiane’s mind wandered.

“Halt!” the voice boomed like a cannon through her pre-occupied mind. Old Nancy shied. Christiane tightened her grip on the harness a second too late and off she went. Landing on her bottom, she gave an “oof.” The two English soldiers laughed at her discomfort. It was a roadblock. She had been stopped at a few before, but at those she had been seen them ahead and also had been shielded from close scrutiny by a group of other travelers.

Her mind raced. A lone woman, she had no illusions about what men were capable of. Another complication occurred to her suddenly. If they discovered her masquerade, they might think her a spy. Sympathizers were imprisoned and spies were hung. Her terror escalated, but she worked to keep her wits about her. She was just a young lad, travelling on family business. Slowly she retrieved the dragging harness and stroked the jittery mare’s neck.

“Lad,” the older of the two soldiers barked, “don’t h’ever think of ji’ning the calv’ry. You won’t neever qualeefy.” The two roared again at their own humor. Inwardly Christiane was relieved at their acceptance of her ruse. “State yer business,” the same one demanded.

“Jest going to Philadelphy,” Christiane mumbled, squinting up at him.

“What fer?”

“Family matter,” she mumbled again, watching the two Englishmen studying her. They looked bored and chilled.

“Yer saddlebags is awful full,” the talkative one observed.

“Just some things for my sis,” she improvised quickly.

“You have a sister?” the younger soldier piped in.

The older one laughed.

“You have a sister in Philadelphy?” the young man persisted.

“Aye,” she grunted in her best boy-style.

“Pretty?”

“No.”

The older one laughed again. “George ‘ere don’t care if she’s pretty or not. Think she’d be interested in ‘im?”

“She’s married,” Christiane grunted again.

“George wouldn’t ‘old that against ‘er. Would you, George?”

George just grinned in response.

The conversation disgusted Christiane and she wanted to be off. She threw the reins back up to Nancy’s back and made ready to hoist herself up.

“‘Ere, lad, you ‘ain’t been given permission to mount up yit!” the older one shouted. “Nobody ‘ain’t neever taught you ‘ow to treat your betters! You taker your ‘at off when you speaks to a King’s soldier!” Both men crowded close to her.

Memories of the night in the kitchen crowded closer. She panicked. Fumbled at her belt for her knife. She heard a shout and felt a blow to her skull. Blackness.

#

Pain. She was aware of pain so severe she could not bear to open her eyes. Someone was lifting her and then carrying her like a sack of meal. Her head pounded. A door creaked and she felt herself being thrown down. The smell of stale hay. Darkness.
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