Free Written on Silk by Linda Lee Chaikin Page A

It was then decreed too dangerous for the Château de Silk. Alas, le duc has struck here anyway.”
    “Then — you mean my père may have expected an attack here?”
    “He may have worried. Then the plan with Pasteur Bertrand was altered to bring the Bibles to Châtillon, then on to Calais, where a friendly ship awaits to bring both the pasteur and the Bibles to England.”
    “Are you certain my père is now at Calais?”
    “He is, and that is why it is most urgent that Pasteur Bertrand go there at once to join him. The Bibles must be moved from their place of concealment and brought to England before they are discovered.”
    Rachelle put a hand to her forehead. Her father was doubtless taking a grave risk at Calais. A warehouse was never safe for long with so many people coming and going on the wharves, and this one stacked with crates of French Bibles, with her father as their keeper.
    “But it is impossible for Cousin Bertrand to travel now. Why — it may be several weeks, perhaps even longer.”
    “Mademoiselle, I share your very concerns after what has happened here. If there is anything I can do — well, I am at your ser vice, and Pasteur Bertrand’s. Perhaps, Mademoiselle, it would be wise for you to read the lettre from your père, since Pasteur Bertrand is not yet able.”
    He handed her the envelope.
    Rachelle hesitated, then sent her reticence fleeing. After all, if her father was asking Bertrand to come with all speed, then she dare not delay learning of his plight.
    Mathieu looked weary and worn, and her sympathy went out to him. He had journeyed far bringing her father’s lettre. If anyone had discovered it upon him and read its contents, he would have been arrested. It was fortunate that Marquis Fabien had entered the inn when he did, lest the two soldiers recognize the student’s Geneva dress.
    “Come, we shall talk again in the morning. I will take you to your chamber for the night.”
    “The Lord bless you, Mademoiselle. The students at the university have heard of the Macquinet generosity toward us. The fine linen shirts sent to us are desired alike by student and docteur.”
    “The shirts are by oversight of my sister Mademoiselle Idelette,”she said, with a smile, followed by an onrush of uninvited sadness over Idelette’s condition.
    Rachelle brought Mathieu past the cook’s room into a hall with an alcove having steps going up to a second floor chamber that was affectionately called the Prophet’s Nook. The family had it built in the early 1500s when persecution against the first Reformers in France broke with fury. Presently it was kept ready for traveling pasteurs and Bible students out of Geneva. There was a wardrobe stocked with shirts, coats, and leggings in many sizes, and upon departure, travel currency was given.
    Rachelle told him that hot water, fresh towels, and dinner would soon be brought.
    “ Merci millefois , Mademoiselle.”
    “Have dinner, Monsieur, and get your well-deserved sleep. You have done your part in delivering the message. I will see to its contents.” Yet, even as Rachelle spoke, she wondered what could possibly be done.
    She left Mathieu and started down the steps, frowning and considering her alternatives. Reaching the alcove, she set the candleholder on the ledge and opened the lettre. Holding it near the candlelight, she read her father’s brief message:
I am now in Calais with the cargo, awaiting your arrival. We confront several difficulties. Monsieur B informs me he is under suspicion. It is perilous for him to haul the cargo aboard his vessel as first planned. We must find other means. Also, Monsieur D’s warehouse can only be used for a brief time due to random inspections. Come in haste. Say nothing of my situation to Clair.
    A. M.
    Rachelle’s fingers closed about the lettre, and she gazed off thoughtfully. Now what? Bertrand could not make the journey to Calais. If she sent Mathieu back to her father with the dark tidings here in Lyon, it