A Stitch in Time:: The Legacy: Book III

By Evan Fleming

Following the Baron's plan for the girls to learn of the family history, Nayla uses her powers to open a hidden crypt under the chapel at Capitol House. The story of the Baron's family unfolds as Grace, Amy, Claire and Parilee explore the crypt and make surprising discoveries that reveal the girls' heritage. Readers will follow the exciting exploits of Baron I, the girls' great-grandfather, as Grace reads aloud from his journals. His narrow escapes from assassinations, sword fights and duels, along with his sailing adventures and meeting his future bride are all chronicled in his writings. The author brings together imagination and history in a unique way in the telling of the French King's son's journey to America. The girls, grateful to become aware of their heritage and fascinated by the artifacts, decide they want to know more. Further discoveries and adventures follow as Grace, Claire, Amy, and Matt, accompanied by their young guardians, travel to Europe following clues left by the Baron's ancestors in a quest for hidden treasures.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662401077

Book preview

Chapter 1

Grace’s Story of a Discovery at Capitol House

The plane was back an hour later as everyone had flown out just after first light and caught us finishing breakfast. We heard the plane as it circled and all hurried out to find Red waiting to fly us over to the Capitol House. Gathering our things, we left twenty minutes later wondering what we might find on arrival. Marge met us, and we quickly hopped in the station wagon for the short ride to the house where Dad met us, flanked by Parilee and Nayla. Girls, he said after giving us all hugs outside, there’s been a lot going on the last two days, and I decided to do some work on the chapel, and everyone needs to be here for it. We’re setting up for lunch outside in the chapel arbor. Go on over and study what you see, and Nayla, Parilee, and I will join you in a few minutes. Knowing questions would be unanswered, we walked over.

The chapel was forty-two feet wide. There were three rows of the wrought-iron benches that someone named Ellie had made years ago. Each bench was twelve feet wide and cleverly made so that by lifting the ends, the bench would fall apart. These were moveable with three additional benches standing vertically on the side wall. Dad had made us look at them, not just sit on them, when we were younger and tell him what we saw. We were all only twelve or thirteen at the time, and after studying the benches, we told him how many animals and flowers we found hidden in the ornate work. We were equally delighted as he showed us both how they broke apart and also how the three extras on the side could be quickly assembled and with the swing of two clamps on the top of each end and two at the bottom the extras could be put in the middle, making one row thirty-six feet wide. As the aisle between the seats was six feet, with initially six feet to either end, he thus transformed the six benches into three benches with three feet on either end for aisles. Dad had explained that the expansion was done for weddings occasionally or during times when we needed extra seating. These benches were all to the sides now, leaving the floor open, revealing the huge stone pyramid. The benches had been positioned over the floor to obscure the pattern. As the floor was of the same white stone as the walls and usually covered with a thin layer of sand, we had never really noticed the pyramid, and this was the first time any of us could remember the floor swept so we could see the pattern.

Dad and Nayla had stood quietly behind us three girls and Parilee so we could see what was outlined. Feeling something momentous was about to happen, our suspicions were confirmed by the uncovering of Csun and CS Tras, whose protected covering had shielded them from us. We had all been holding hands, feeling the tension and power, but until the guardians Boudreaux and Robichaux had quietly come in behind us, had not known the reason.

Girls, Dad said, I’m sorry for all the drama, but I wanted you to see the chapel floor as it was first made by Oyama.

We could tell there was more coming as he continued, Now is the time for each of you to learn our history. Over the last few years, there have been things happening, and somehow the time never seemed right. Nayla is the only other person who knows everything, unless she too, as a last resort told someone, perhaps her sister, who would have succeeded her until Claire’s birth. Upon hearing this said, Nayla merely raised an eyebrow, not giving a direct answer. He continued, She’s about to show you something, and then you can have thirty minutes to view, without touching, anything you see. Matt’s mom, Marge, has food prepared, and I want you to come outside to the arbor where we’ll eat while we talk about it." Dad saw us all nod, and he stepped back as the skulls were placed carefully one of either side of Nayla.

Looking anxiously to one another, Claire asked, Mom, is there anything we can do to help? Nayla grinned. We could smell the sweet incense with spices that had been lit on low braziers one to either side of the two skulls. No, girls! I’ve got this. And we could tell by her voice she was happy and not worried. What I want you to do is watch and feel with me what I do so that any of you three could do likewise. If this were hard I would have brought CS Derux to help keep these other two in line. She was still grinning at us.

Feeling immensely relieved, we stood behind her to see what she would do. We felt the power building and linked lightly with her. Slowly the whole floor seemed to rise although it was actually the stone pyramid in the center, thirty feet across each leg. Lifting slowly, it rose about seven feet high where we could see the depth of stone was perhaps six feet with a three by three void under the top three feet. As Nayla was holding the stone in suspension for us to view it, it suddenly separated, bringing a collective indrawn gasp of air, into three separate triangles. Each triangle sat back three feet so that the three by three pieces fit squarely atop the six foot thick stone floor. We could see the opening with steps leading down into it and looked askance at Nayla and our father, the Baron. Thirty minutes was all he said, as Foret who had been waiting quietly in the background, stepped forward with three—no, four—kerosene twin-mantle lanterns, which he proceeded to light and handed one to my mom, Parilee, and each of my sisters. We all were quiet as we took our lanterns, and knowing Dad’s penchant for drama, realized questions would have to wait. No one said anything until halfway down when Claire burst out with Show off. Amy and I knew immediately what she meant and began to laugh as we had all been lightly linked up with Nayla to get the feel of what she was doing.

Having pity on mom, we explained she could have raised each piece of the triangle separately with less effort, but she was feeling her oats with that show of the sudden separation of the stones. She was just showing off. Seeing her doubtful look we said, Just wait until we go outside and don’t say a word and see what happens. We continued to talk as we descended the steps holding our lanterns up and peering around. Over the years we had become used to Dad’s mysteries and were determined to learn all we could, as we knew there would be a lot we would miss. We knew he did this as a learning experience and each took it as a challenge to not miss a thing. It wasn’t until we reached the bottom that we realized the area was much larger than the chapel that was built above it, and secondly, it was a crypt. We found a sarcophagus at the bottom with stone columns extending into space. We talked aloud as we split up to see as much as possible, each talking aloud about what we saw as we tried to walk in different areas to cover everything.

Leaving Amy and Claire to their own explorations I wanted to see the sarcophagus. Mom must have been equally curious because after a brief look at the bright colors of blue, yellow and red as well as seeing glyphs in black across the two foot wide arches between the columns that supported the weight of the ceiling, she followed me to the sarcophagus. By holding her lantern next to mine the light was quite bright and we could clearly make out the head and features of who was in it. Thinking the features were somehow familiar, the mystery was explained when we saw a name on the side, Baron II, Son of the True King. We looked again and it was easy to see the family resemblance. This was your grandfather, Parilee stated, a little in awe of all we saw.

Yes, and I think these glyphs tell of his life, I replied wishing to touch the carvings across the sides and ends of the sarcophagus but remembering Dad’s admonition. There’s a group of books or journals on top, I pointed out longing to touch these as well but looking at my watch saw I only had ten more minutes. I wanted to walk around the steps to see what lay behind and was immediately rewarded by a second sarcophagus. This one was at the back of the steps and differed in that there was something unusual about it. It too had books or journals on top, surrounded by a thick ring of some powder. In addition, the sides of this one were much more elaborate and could have been done by the finest artisans of the day. All the glyphs seemed to have a life or spirit of their own. I don’t mean as a whole, but in the sense that each one was unique and contained a small repository of power. Each of these was individually done in a vibrant color making the whole surface seem to glow. If we had more time, I wished to turn off our light and see if my suspicions were right and it did glow. Peering closer, I saw the inscription, Baron I, the True King of France and Lands South of Louisiana. Parilee had stood behind me and Mom and whispered This is your great grandfather. It says he was a king.

Seeing our time was almost gone and feeling there was something else I was missing, I asked Mom to step back to the side and putting my lantern on the floor stepped back a few paces. Walking around the end, suddenly a light, much lacking, began to glow in the back of my head, springing into a sunburst through which I called. Mom, step back here and look! Can you see it? Seeing her puzzled look and knowing we were short on time I began, A pyramid?

Standing on point, she finished. I see it too. The stairs are cut into the pyramid’s front side and there’s a very small pyramid on both sides.

Yes, I excitedly replied and great grandfather is on the east side where the sun rises for our Mayan side and directly under the altar above for our Christian side, covering all bases. Laughing, as Claire and Amy called out coming toward our light, we stopped very briefly to show what we’d found and paused a moment then walked to the other side of the stair around the king’s sarcophagus and saw an empty stone slab. Not wanting to visit that thought, we all quickly hurried up the steps. Each of the other two stairways was exactly as the one I inspected with Mom with the exception of no sarcophagus. There was room for more I thought; soundlessly wondering if one was destined for me.

We all delighted in the warmth of the sun, feeling the breeze, and returning to hearing and seeing normal sounds of life. Dad, who was with Marge and Marcus, was beckoning so we hurried over to the arbor. There were two picnic tables waiting with a third table just out at the end loaded with the food and drinks. Checking for verification with my mom and my sisters, it was strange but none of us felt uncomfortable in the crypt. It was just dark, very quiet and encompassed a feeling of old.

The guardians along with a few others sat at a table in the sun on the other side of the table loaded with food and the pitchers of sweet tea and lemonade, leaving us with our parents to talk privately, as they sensed it was business. We quickly assembled our lunches which were burgers, fries, cheese and tomato slices with lettuce, a plate of cold cuts and pieces of cut fruit. We all still made our own condiments at each home and after putting on Marge’s homemade mayonnaise and ketchup, I made sure to get some of her squash pickles. I knew between Boudreaux and Robichaux there would be none left, as the three of us always vied for getting the most of our favorites.

We all discussed our findings. There was an occasional question from Dad who seemed satisfied. Each of the other two stairs leading into the crypt from the points of where the pyramid had rested in the floor was identical to the one Mom and I investigated. There were three empty slabs of stone surrounding each stair, patiently lying in wait. My sisters each walked around to see the size of the chamber with both meeting at an arch in the wall with glyphs covering the stone with gods of the underworld and protection on either side on short stelaes.

As Claire and Amy who had both found the arch looked to Dad, he told them That’s another story and not mine to tell. Relenting somewhat he continued, It is a tale held only by the King or Queen of the Mayan nation.

Dad went on to tell us the guardians would be installing florescent lighting in the crypt and members from our land with swamp home would stay stationed around the outside of the chapel the rest of today and tomorrow while the guardians, and Nayla worked and did the electrical work inside. He told us also he wished us to take what we found on top of our great grandfather’s sarcophagus to the front of the chapel in the alcove and read it as it would tell us of the start of our family. He thought the light coming in the stained glass windows would be enough to read by.

The men had eaten quickly and left to start taking the supplies into the crypt that we passed on the left side of the chapel when we first walked over to wait for our parents. Before we go, Claire said, taking the lead and looking directly at Nayla, Mom, you scared Parilee when those stones separated. We all waited in silence, and then, reaching across the table, Nayla said, I’m, truly sorry and should have told you what I planned. Then grinning mischievously, she said, But it was fun! At which we all laughed.

As Dad had explained what was to happen, we gave the men enough time to set up temporary lights. They did this by the simplest expedite of running a cable from a junction box outside to the area where the triangle was and making a temporary box with four plugs. To this they then ran three lighter cables to each side of the opening, placing a heavy rock on each one and letting the loose ends dangle into the hole.

While we four watched, and Nayla sat and rested, Robicheaux, who was skilled in electrical work, explained where work would come later. We watched as each loose end was pulled up after measuring for its length in the hole, and Robicheaux began to attach a special florescent light fixture. After finishing one, he moved to the next while the men were bringing in boxes of ten-foot plastic pipe and several rolls of shielded wire, which were all carried to the bottom of the steps.

Robicheaux proudly displayed his knowledge of lux or luminous flux per unit, and the light spectrum as expressed in units of Kelvin. We knew about Kelvins from our experience with design and color choices of fabrics but listened patiently as he recited what he had recently studied for this job. The lights were a special type that could illuminate the crypt and not discolor the paints. Robicheaux told us that the Baron hadn’t told him about the lights, but he had read that anything exposed to light would be damaged by the light waves and the damage was irreversible. As we watched the work, several beanbag chairs and even a small beanbag couch were tossed into the opening. Pleased with his work and lesson he stepped back, smiled, and with a flourish of one hand to the opening, flipped a switch and soft light illuminated the crypt. We hurried down the stairs and finding an area less busy, moved our chairs and couch and proceeded to look around.

The men were busy rolling out the flexible cable or stretching wire called Romex next to the pieces of plastic tube in which it would fit. These tubes were to be mounted to the ceiling where light fixtures with the special bulbs and filters would hang. Nayla, who had been here before, commented that she was glad he was doing this as she had asked him about it before. So much had happened over the past few years there never seemed to be enough time, but as events seemed to be calm for the moment and the crisis of the new state park was averted, it seemed our dad felt the urgency of age and events we might not control to show us this and explain our history. None of us wanted to think of anything happening to Dad, but we were all glad to discover this history as it had never been mentioned. I casually wondered what other surprises might lie in our future.

Nayla watched and would rise, concentrate, and then form ornamental stonework to secure the conduit pipe to the ceiling. We didn’t have to ask more, knowing the stone wouldn’t want metal screws in it. Occasionally we would each rise and, after seeing what she wanted, take turns to learn this stone and keep in touch with the use of our abilities as well as keep Mom from overexerting herself.

After talking a few minutes and having walked around the crypt avoiding Boudreaux and Robichaux, who were on the two ladders, and Foret, who was feeding the wire through the pipes and handing sections up to them, we decided we had light enough to read by. Although Baron the first was the great-grandfather of all of us, it was decided that I got the privilege of beginning the reading. My sisters with our moms, Parilee and Nayla, gathered in a circle in their chairs under the hanging fixture as I began . . .

Chapter 2

The Beginning of the King’s Journal

Grace opened the cover of the journal and began by reading the title: My Story—Son of Louis XVI—True King of France.

14 April, 1800

I am writing this so my sons and daughters will know of their true heritage and I ask each of you who comes to read this to do two things. First, write about your own life even if it is only a few sentences daily, as we have no one to chronicle our history, and the second request is to marry into royal lines to keep our line strong. Remember to not disclose your heritage to those of your blood or their guardians until they are deemed old or wise enough. I would also suggest you not share this with your spouse as they can do damage with the best of intentions to you. Only you should ever decide what to disclose. My father found this out by having some of those closest to him betray him to his death, thinking they were helping him.

My king was a good father or tried to be. I remember being told that he switched me with my body double and sent me to a small hunting lodge when I was three. He visited me as often as he could and had me taught by the cousin of Jean-Francis Boyer, who had been the preceptor of Louis, Dauphin of France. When I was five, there was a night when my father came to the lodge with an escort of twenty guards in a carriage filled with several wooden boxes, which were brought inside to our chapel. When everyone was outside, the chests were placed in a hidden chamber. My best friend was Paul, who was twelve years older than I and the son of my teacher, who, while kind, was harsh in his demands. Father had seen troubled times coming and placed me in the lodge to be raised as a warrior and to escape the tuberculosis that claimed my older brother. I think he thought if I was strong enough, I could escape any illness. When he would come to visit, I could overhear him questioning Paul’s dad, and once when he was told I had a cold, I thought he would do harm to my teacher.

My mornings started at dawn with much of the day spent outside in the sun practicing games that were designed to build my strength even as a child. I learned I had a gift for the sword and had very small practice swords that I learned to use with either hand. There were two of France’s greatest masters of the blade who were older in years and placed there to teach as well as protect me. Paul had lessons with them so I could watch and see the counters and attacks. With bundles of energy, I learned quickly and seemed to please my teachers, who said I didn’t have to unlearn anything. They would compliment me one moment and complain the next at my small size and age, and I would work that much harder to prove them wrong and please my father with my progress when he next came. I remember when the men would come in from a hunt with a chervil and I would have to practice with thrusts to its rib cage with my epee rather than my foil until I couldn’t lift it, then one of my sword masters would insist I change hands and use my other until I couldn’t lift even my foil.

The younger of my teachers, Danet, believed the short stiff sword, or epee, was the future of the blade and had one made to my size. Thinking back, I think he wanted the extra weight for me to build my arms, more so than the blade first, but he came to love it. I practiced to please my father, thinking if I did well, he would take me back with him. It wasn’t until later when I read the small journal he left with me on his last visit that I realized how much he loved and wanted to protect me. As hard as I worked, my friend Paul, who became my lifelong advisor after his dad’s death, was amazing. There was nothing our teachers gave us that he didn’t’ quickly master. They quietly said he might become France’s greatest swordsman except for the limp on his left leg. He had fallen when he was eight, and the bones had never healed properly, although the limp was barely noticeable. He had a true sentiment defer of the sword, which I think I also accomplished, but it took me years to master. We learned to sleep with our swords and wore them every waking minute. Our teachers of the blade would try to surprise us and hit us without warning with short sticks or pikes that lay in the grass. Many a night we slept with dark bruises. Paul’s dad always taught us strategy at night after supper with small carved figures of soldiers and cavalry. There also were several tables covered with mock battles of great wars at all times.

It was after my sixth birthday that my father, the king, came in with four horsemen after dark. I remembered two of them from when I was five and they brought the wooden boxes to the chapel. The king talked to my preceptor along with the two blade masters behind a closed door before coming out and approaching my room. I bumped into Paul who was trying to listen to the talk behind the closed door with me. He kept me from falling and we retreated without being seen, only just slipping into my room before the king came in. Paul slid under my bed and I watched as my father walked to my bed where he stopped and stared at me for a few moments. The scent of the horses he had been on was strong as he leaned over, hugged me and told me how very proud he was of me. I remember our conversation clearly. We talked of being a good ruler and of not trusting advisors too much. He told me he was going to Montmedy but had stopped to let me know what was coming. I begged to go with him but he told me he didn’t want all the family together, and he would send for me when he was safe. If anything happened to him I was to follow the instructions he left with Paul’s dad, my preceptor, whom he told me I could trust. My uncle had already fled the country to Savoy but my father was upset with his position of opposing the demands of the Third Estate.

In the boxes in the chapel were at least half of the items making up the crown jewels, including many swords and bracelets with diadems. My father explained how the crowns of kings were given to the treasury of the Abbey, the Basilica of St. Venise, where the kings were buried in the crypts. He also told me the largest of the jewels were always removed and some of the smaller ones. It was customary to use the largest over and over but smaller stones were often kept out of the treasury. These stones were given to various people as favors for their deeds. When my father was safe he would send an escort to secure these boxes to another place as he had previously done last year when the unrest was growing and he didn’t trust his advisors. There was a list in each crate, citing ones with names such as the scepter of Dagobert I, the Sancy diamond, a bag of Mazarin diamonds and thousands of rose cut and brilliant diamonds along with the true French blue. My father gave me three locations of secret places for caches of gold coins or Louis d’or coins as they are known, to access and finance battles if needed.

I still remember when he entrusted all this to me because for the first and only time I can remember, he hugged me. He told me of his love and said to live proudly and never show fear, always remembering I was his son. The last thing he did was to take his ring, put it on a gold chain around my neck and tell me to keep it safe for him. When he left, Paul came out from under the bed, looked at me for a few moments then sat next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. We heard a few months later from Americans who stopped overnight, that my father was caught in Varennes. The Americans had come seeking help against Britain and finding that the King was in the Tuileries decided to turn around and leave the country. The armoire de fer, or iron chest had been discovered in the King’s palace and secret documents disclosed. There was talk of the Guillotine, but the king was claiming the documents found were placed there by his opponents.

16 April, 1800

A few months later at night, a messenger came riding in on a lathered horse. We were told we would leave the country. We packed what we could, let the servants take what they would and set several barrels of gunpowder inside with lit fuses. This was done to leave the lodge uninhabitable but where it could be rebuilt easily. Paul’s Dad with Paul and I visited the chapel in secret and filled four large powder horns with jewels and then poured powder in until full so that the powder would still come out. His dad, who acted as my preceptor explained to me we were the only ones who knew of the secret vault in the walls and we would take only what we didn’t mind losing if caught and would come back later when things had settled. We demolished the inside walls so we would not come back to finding anyone living there and having access to the hidden vault.

We left early in the morning with horses for twenty two. During the day several would leave our party going home or to parts outside the country until we were down to a group of ten. We camped to the side of roads, not traveling together in a group larger than five, and meeting up for lunch and evening’s end to camp together. The fifth night we planned to camp near the border, moving into the low country of Belgium the following day. At noon one of our guards rode up as we were eating and told us Bastian and Pascal, two of our earlier group of twenty arms men would join us for the evening meal. Neither of them did I like, as they kept to themselves and would stare at Paul or me when we were at the lodge.

Our guard told us they found them going to Anvers as we were doing. As we rode in to what was to be our evening camp, we could hear swords and angry words. There was six in our party and if we had all rode in as Paul and I wanted, all our lives would have been vastly different. Our party consisted of our two masters of the blade, Paul, his dad and our other guard and me. The guard asked us to stay while he checked on the sounds and Paul’s dad agreed, wanting to keep me safe. The sounds stopped and we rode forward to find five of our guards standing over two of our party. As we rode up one on the ground tried to stand and was stabbed by two blades. He looked at me with alarm and mouthed treason but no words came out. Two of the guards came back to take our horses, explaining they had overheard the two planning to kill us as we slept that night. Paul, two guards and I held the horses while his dad with our two teachers of the blade went to look at our two fallen men. Suddenly the two guards behind them pulled their swords and ran them through the back.

As Paul and I saw them go down, the practice of never being taken by surprise took over our reflexes and before their blades were withdrawn from the backs of those they stabbed, our blades were drawn together and run into their backs by their left shoulder. All time stopped for a moment with Paul throwing his arms around his dad and the three remaining guards frozen with looks of disbelief. They weren’t sure who I was but suspected I was a royal. With the spreading of blood on Paul’s father’s white shirt, time blinked and with unspoken words the remaining three guards pulled swords and advanced. One cut a red line in the top of Paul’s shoulder, only missing the target of his neck by being pulled away by his dad. I was close enough to put my blade through the guard twice while Paul regained his feet and engaged the remaining two. Neither of my thrusts was disabling, as I was too far away to do more than draw blood. Backing up, I fell over one of the dead guards and would have been skewered if not for two calls of Arête! Arête! Our former guard looked up and paused long enough for me to run him through and he fell on top of me covering me with blood. I struggled to get up and push the guard off as I could hear more blades in the fight. By the time I could move the guard off the fight was over.

A pair of young men, not too much older than Paul, was standing with him over the remaining two guards. One of the men turned and hurried to my side followed by Paul who couldn’t decide if it was all right to put his blade up or not. We all decided to trust one another and seeing I was unhurt, cleaned our blades and checked on those down. Paul was holding his dad in his arms, the two men who helped us were sorting the others out and I discovered one of our sword masters still living although blood was seeping out of his nose. Paul had his ear to his father’s lips and was listening to his words when he gave a last sigh and slumped. Paul laid him down gently and closed his eyes, then came over to me. We sat Danet up so he wouldn’t drown in his own blood as we guessed he had a lung punctured but perhaps not torn.

The two men came over and introduced themselves as Pierre and Jean Laffite. They said they had visited their father in Pauillac and were headed to Anvers then down the river Scheldt to Calais. Supposedly they had gone to Montmedy to arrange contacts for the goods they hoped to ship to Anvers as their Dad was in shipping. Paul and I believed only part of their story, thinking they probably were highway men as well. Many of the nobles were fleeing the country until things settled down and there were frequent attacks over the whole country. Paul told them we wanted to go to England and these men were to escort us and apparently changed their minds. The Lafittes told us they heard the sound of blades and saw four of the guards fighting two who did well until the guard with us left us and supposedly was going to help the two but stabbed one in the side leaving odds of five to one. Pierre told us if they had time they would have joined the two as they liked the spirit of our two loyal guards but it was over too quickly. When they saw us ride up they waited and seeing the treachery, decided to help us. Jean and Paul each killed one of the two remaining guards who had turned on us. Paul told them his father was the Dad of us both and the men must have sided with the commoners as our dad was a Baron. Our cover was to use Rothschild as a pseudonym. Pierre and Jean both claimed no allegiance to either side but wanted to stay neutral so they could continue shipping. They were going to stop at England and then find cargo to take to Saint-Domingue as the tariffs were lower. Paul proposed a trip time charter for their ship, which they agreed to on good terms. Pierre and Jean were give any possessions the five men had on them and they took the bodies a little distance off and rolled a few rocks over them.

Paul and I laid his father, our two loyal arms men, and the sword master under a ledge we had seen. It had two large Douglas fir trees on either side of the opening. We pushed rocks over the opening from upslope and pulled others over with the help of our horses and ropes, finally filling in with smaller rocks with Pierre and Jean’s help. It was dark and we spent the night around a fire getting to know one another better and tending to Danet who had hit his head when he fell after being stabbed. The fall knocked him senseless and probably saved his life. Danet had quit spitting up blood and we hoped his lung was merely nicked as he showed no signs other than weakness, of his injury. Pierre treated the puncture on his back with brandy belonging to Paul’s dad and we wrapped the wound with clean linen.

Come morning, Danet insisted he could sit a saddle as long as we rode slowly. Taking the supplies meant for the other men gave us plenty of food, so we crossed into Belgium with no need to go into towns for resupply. During our travel the next week, Paul and I both were liking and trusting the Lafitte’s more and more. They told us about their life in shipping and the opportunities in the new country of America. I knew my father had supported the colonies in their war and that Kentucky had named their biggest city after him. The more they told us about this new country the more I wanted to see it.

The night before we came to Anvers, Jean asked us about keeping the horses as he could see we cared about them. Paul and I brushed each one every evening as his dad had made us do at the lodge. He told us it would make us appreciate both the work the horses did as well as the stable master and grooms. Jean said he could transport the horses to England on his ship in one or at most two trips. The distance across the Strait of Calais, or Dover, was only five to twenty miles depending on where we crossed. Paul, Danet and I originally were going to Spain or Austria to stay until the rebellion was settled but with my father’s beheading we weren’t sure who, if anyone, we could trust and had decided to stay in England to make plans.

25 April, 1800

We had plenty of funds so we decided to go to England, take the mares and buy a small holding until we could decide what next to do. That night I slept restlessly wondering if the giant antigoon who would collect tolls to let you cross the Scheldt and had been slain, had left any children and if they might attack us. The next morning saw us in Antwerp Oranvers where the Lafittes were obviously known as several of the shop keepers waved as we rode by. Pierre stopped to talk to one or two of the owners and always caught up. We spent the night in an inn on the sea side of the town where sailors used to stay. The Scheldt had filled in and instead of the ships, which used to bring spices now only a few ships would stop ocean side and small pirogues with sails would load and bring the cargo up the river to Anvers. We got several rooms with real beds and had the opportunity to eat food not of our cooking. That night Paul, Danet, and I were able to talk in private in our room. While we felt we could trust the Lafitte’s we also knew we carried a fortune in gems.

London was the best market to dispose of our jewels and we took about twenty-five to thirty of the old mine diamonds in red and green, eight large rubies and a half a dozen Ashdrawers along with thirty larger pearls and placed these in a small black velvet bag with a drawstring. A second bag was made holding lesser gems and both were put in a larger green velvet bag. We went directly through the country from Anvers to Calais arriving on the fifth day and found lodging in an inn on the edge of town. Jean and Pierre left us to attend to getting their crew and ship ready to leave on the second day. We paid Jean before he left and changed our time trip charter to a time charter for two months. This would give us additional time to plan what to do next and find out if we could trust the brothers. Danet said he would go wherever we decided to go and told Paul he would help watch and protect me. Originally the men were to see us safely housed with a relative but we felt unsafe doing that. Danet had no family and pledged his life to us. Danet took a small diamond to a jeweler in town the next day to see what local value for the stone would be. He pretended an interest in having a ring made or perhaps selling it. It was common for good swordsmen to be given a jewel or ring for pleasing those they served.

That evening Jean and Pierre told us they would be ready the following day as they had located all their crew and had a place they could take the horses. It was somewhat crowded but Jean and Pierre had three crew men who had experience with cows and horses and we got all twelve horses on board by blindfolding the first and