My Brother's Crown (26 page)

The back door burst open with a crash of hooves and the snort of animals. Basile raced in on a horse, a burning torch in his hand. Waltier entered next, also astride a horse, and then a third dragoon followed, this one a captain that Catherine had not seen before.

Pastor Berger climbed down from the pulpit and stood at the front of the church as several congregants fled out the back. Catherine rose, searching the balcony for Pierre, but both he and Eriq were gone.

The captain shouted, “By order of King Louis XIV, the congregation of the Temple de Lyon must vacate these premises and never return. No services of any kind will be allowed, either in this building or in homes or in gatherings outside. All members of this congregation must convert to the eldest daughter of the Church, the Roman Catholic Church of France, and join his Majesty in the one true faith of our great country.”

Catherine started down the aisle toward Grand-Mère, but Eriq was
suddenly at her side, his hands gripping her elbow as he dragged her in the opposite direction.

“
Non,
” she said, yanking away. Frantic, she looked around for Jules, who was blocked by the dragoons, also unable to get to their grandmother.

Eriq grabbed Catherine again, and again she pulled away, crying
,
“Grand-Mère!”

“Pierre has gone for her, Catherine! I am to see to you.”

Basile wove his torch around, spying the banner above the pulpit, the new one with the Huguenot cross embroidered on it, that had been a gift from a southern congregation in Nîmes. He jerked his horse around to the front of the church and lit the fabric on fire. Someone screamed.

Next Basile headed up the aisle, torching the benches as he went. The burning banner fell from the pole onto the pulpit.

Desperate, Catherine searched through the thickening smoke for her grandmother and finally spotted her coming toward them, Pierre helping her along. Turning, the four of them headed for the door—but then Basile moved his horse into their aisle, blocking the way. They stopped. Catherine grabbed Grand-Mère's hand and started leading her sideways along a bench, to the other aisle. Eriq followed, as did Pierre.

Flames now engulfed the front of the sanctuary.

“You must vacate the temple immediately!” the captain shouted. “The doors will be barricaded. Anyone left inside will perish.”

Catherine handed off Grand-Mère to a friend, and as the two of them continued on to the door, she turned and looked for her brother. She did not see him anywhere. Closer to the front Madame Berger shouted, “Where is Jacob?”

Catherine saw Pastor Berger still standing at the front of the church, searching the balcony.

“Jacob!” Madame Berger yelled.

The next youngest boy ran from behind the burning pulpit.

“Get out!” Pastor Berger cried. “All of you!”

“Jacob!” the distraught mother yelled again.

“Maman! Up here.” Through the slats of the railing, five-year-old Jacob peered down at all of them.

Pierre took off running toward the stairs.

Catherine tried to go as well, but Eriq caught her by the wrist and dragged her toward the door. Even as she kicked at his shin with her foot, he held on, and he was much stronger than she would have expected.

“Get out!” Pastor Berger was shouting to his boys and wife. “I will help Pierre.”

Catherine quickly shifted her weight, trying to yank herself free some other way. She could not but managed to twist enough to see Jacob still kneeling in the same place up in the loft, along the railing, his arms outstretched through the slats. The older boys, who had encircled their mother, were moving toward the door as instructed, Basile waving his torch behind them. Smoke completely filled the sanctuary now and burned Catherine's eyes until Eriq wrapped an arm around her waist and forced her out the door.

Stumbling forward and trying to catch her breath, she spotted her grandmother a short way off, huddling with some of the others. Jules stood beyond them, his arms crossed. Disgusted with his inaction, she noticed Waltier, sitting on his horse on the street below. He looked away.

“Do something!” Catherine shouted at him. “Pierre was once your friend! Now you would have him die?”

Waltier ignored her, but a pained expression flickered across his face.

As Madame Berger and two of her boys came through the door, Basile jumped from his horse and slammed it shut.

Finally free of Eriq, Catherine ran toward the side of the church, through the passageway. Surely the back door would be unlocked. But it was not. It had been barred from the inside.

“Pierre!” she yelled, banging on the door. Eriq joined her. Glass broke overhead and Catherine stepped back, sure heat from the fire was blowing out the windows.

But a small leg appeared and then another. Then the rest of Jacob.

“Over here,” Catherine yelled to him. “Come to the edge of the roof,
in the corner. You can climb down the trellis.” She expected Pierre to be right behind the boy, but he was not, nor was the child's father.

Terrified he might slip on the tiles and fall from the high roof, she started toward the trellis herself, intending to climb up and get him.

“Catherine,” Eriq yelled, grabbing her arm yet again and stopping her short.

She struggled against him until she saw Pastor Berger climbing out of the window and onto the roof. He took Jacob's hand, and together they inched across the roof toward the corner.

Smoke started billowing through the broken window.

“Where is Pierre?” she shouted.

Without looking down, Pastor Berger yelled, “He is coming!”

A moment later another set of legs appeared at the window and then Pierre, his face covered with soot, emerged. He paused a moment, his hands on his knees, as he sucked in air and then coughed. Relief flooded through Catherine even as her legs began to shake.

The trellis held as first Jacob and then Pastor Berger climbed down. Catherine scooped the sooty little boy up into her arms and held on tight until his father made it all the way down. Then she lowered Jacob to the ground, and he grabbed hold of his father's leg.

By the time Pierre reached the trellis, the members who had not fled had gathered in the back with them, including Grand-Mère, though Jules was not among the small crowd.

Once Pierre was nearly down, Catherine took in the sight of the church as a whole. Flames shot from the roof now. It had not been fancy, but it had been theirs. How she wished she would have valued it more.

“All is lost,” she said to Grand-Mère.

“
Au contraire
. Nothing is lost.
We
are the Lord's temple, Catherine, not some building.”

As soon as Pierre hit the ground, Pastor Berger wrapped him in an embrace. Then, as their leader, he instructed everyone to leave the premises before someone was injured. “You will hear from me soon,” he said, his voice quiet and raspy. “
We
are the church, not this building,” he added, echoing Grand-Mère's words. “Remember that, my brethren.”

People began to scatter, though Catherine remained where she was, watching as Pierre tousled Jacob's hair and then, almost shyly, raised his head toward her.

She exhaled, tears filling her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but it was no use. They spilled down her cheeks, surely making dark streaks on her face.

Seeing her tears, he came to her, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her close despite propriety. Given the circumstances, not even Grand-Mère objected.

“I thought I had lost you for sure this time,” Catherine whispered.

“You cannot get rid of me that easily,” he replied, burying his face in her hair.

After a long moment, Eriq stepped over to join them, so finally they pulled apart.

“My brother, the hero,” Eriq teased, slapping Pierre on the back. Though he seemed proud, Catherine thought perhaps he was a tiny bit jealous as well.

“You were a hero too, Eriq,” she said, remembering how strongly he had held on to her despite her frantic thrashings. “
Merci
for coming to save me. I'm sorry I fought you.”

“
Oui,
” Pierre added, his eyes twinkling, “I saw it happening. I do believe Catherine was a foe nearly as fierce as the fire.”

“And I'll have the bruises to prove it,” Eriq agreed, grinning as he rubbed his shin.

Grand-Mère stepped closer and quietly asked Pierre how his parents were.

His smile faded, his expression growing somber. “On their way,” he replied softly.

Catherine gasped. “Out of the country?” How could he not have told her?

He glanced around and then nodded.

“I suspected as much,” Grand-Mère said.
“Ah, bien.
You and Eriq join us for Easter dinner. We have much to discuss.”

“Easter dinner?” Catherine snapped, her sudden anger with Pierre falling onto her grandmother instead. “Who can eat at a time like this?”

“Mind yourself, Granddaughter,” she replied, then she turned and moved away.

Chagrined, Catherine directed her attention back to Pierre.

His parents' departure for Switzerland had an impact on her life too, yet he had chosen not to share that with her. She could not trust him—and he did not seem to think he could trust her either.

Pierre and Eriq had walked to the temple, so they crowded into the carriage with the Gillets. As they drove away, a fire wagon sped by, most likely to protect the surrounding buildings. It was too late to save the temple, even if the dragoons would have allowed them to try. Already the roof was falling in. Soon the walls would collapse.

All was not lost, however, Catherine reminded herself. No one had been killed, and everyone was safe—though how the group of believers would continue on and worship together after this was beyond her comprehension.

Feeling the loss, she turned to her brother, who sat across from her. “You certainly didn't exert yourself to help.”

“Granddaughter!” Grand-Mère scolded for the second time that day.

Jules shrugged. “The situation was under control. There was nothing I could do.”

Catherine swallowed hard to keep from responding. Always the pragmatist, her brother. How very different he was from Eriq and Pierre.

Once they reached home, they all eventually gathered in the dining room, and Catherine found herself appraising the two brothers. Their faces were clean again, and though Eriq was still in his own clothes, Pierre was wearing a simple pair of too-short trousers and a white shirt drawn tight across his broad shoulders. She hadn't realized how much bigger and more muscular Pierre was than Jules until she saw him in her brother's clothes. When he turned to speak to Grand-Mère, Catherine noticed a smudge of soot still behind one of his ears, and she found
herself fighting the urge to reach out and wipe it away with her fingertips. As upset as she was with him, she could not deny her attraction, which never seemed to go away.

They settled in at the table, but Catherine found the scene disturbing. How could everyone just sit here and share a meal as if it were any other ordinary Easter? Didn't they understand that after today nothing would ever be the same? If burning the churches did not make the Huguenots convert, then who was to say that the next step would not be to burn down their houses?

Finally, as the food began to come in from the kitchen, she could not hold her tongue any longer despite Grand-Mère's previous warning. Working hard to keep her tone from sounding in any way disrespectful, she waited until the footman left and then turned to her grandmother.

“How can you have an appetite after what we have all just been through?” she asked, and then she looked to the others. “All of you. How can you sit here and share a feast when our precious temple has been burned to the ground—very nearly taking Pierre with it?”

They all grew quiet for a moment until finally Grand-Mère responded, quoting a line from the twenty-third Psalm.

“ ‘Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies,' ” she said, her tone strong but her eyes kind.