Musketeer's Daughter:Unanswered Riddle

Chapter 5: Message

Hard knots snaked around her heart until breathing became impossible. She let the tears fall, the wind slapping them away as Dupré galloped a furious pace. What would she do now? Every training ground belonged to the King. She knew of none other where she could practice most vigorously. That was, unless . . . Ysabeau pulled Dupré to such a quick halt, he raised to his hind legs with a shriek. She lost her balance and tumbled backward with a cry. The grass seemed to laugh at her foolishness, but licked her face nonetheless.

“Dupré!” she scolded the horse as he lowered his great head and nibbled her nose. “For that, you will not enjoy the feast.”

He snorted and swung away to a patch of flowers.

The clouds swirled into shades of storm-blue, pouring a slight chill across her body. She sighed. “That is it, Dupré, I belong nowhere. I do not belong in Andrién’s home, I do not belong on any lands where he once trained me, and I do not belong . . .” Again, the thought struck her and she sat up with a groan.

She knew she was no longer welcome at her old home, but her mère did not need to know she was close by. With her shoulders set, she mounted the destrier and turned him westward. Soon, the sun sparkled through the green canopy above the little cottage, giving her heart a strong jolt.

Rather than fighting tender feelings, fury and hatred and revulsion lashed through her. Nevertheless, not wanting to be found out, Ysabeau went the long way around. Clenching her jaw, she slid off Dupré and eased him into the dilapidated stable. Her mère believed horseback riding was evil, and, thus, always traveled by foot. She never shopped when the vendors visited, but grew her own vegetable garden. Here, Dupré would go unnoticed.

The hat sat low on her brow, her cassock tossed with her every step through the thick trees. Just around the corner. There! Joy burst through her heart and she ran across the meadow filled with her favorite flowers. When she was still young, she would come here oft during troubled times to clear her mind. One day after only a few visits, she happened across the old tree. Its twisted branches and hollowed center had always given her chills—even her mère said it was evil itself, but that never frightened Ysabeau from playing near.

It was here that she imagined the tree to be highwaymen or enemies threatening to abduct King Henri’s princess, though he had none. Her desire for defending became unbearable and Andrién, along with mère, decided to teach her his ways.

After all, Andrién would say, her mère needed someone to protect her.

“Someone to protect her.” Ysabeau marched with purpose to the second training ground. “Someone to protect her.” Her steps slowed. He had always been quite adamant and even suspicious every time someone came to the door. As sheltering as he was, why did he not put up a fight and make her mère live with them? Ysabeau shivered. Not that she wanted her mère to live with her, but the woman was alone and unprotected even now.

None of this made any sense. She stopped in her step, a throb hot in her brain. Ysabeau moaned at the ache.

She whipped out the stick from her sash, beating the ugly tree she had carved it from. Musketeers feared nothing and no one. They did not let anything get in the way. They fought for honor, not glory. They protected one another like fierce brothers. How she longed to become one, to belong to such a fierce and noble, yet gentle band of fighters.