Chapter fourteen- Gilbert

Gilbert looked down into those pleading eyes, but all he saw were those sinister flames from long ago, devastating and deadly. If only it had been anything other than a fire. Just the thought of facing those deadly flames was enough to petrify him. When the young lad came rushing up, shouting about the town being on fire, Gilbert hadn't really given it much thought. The town meant nothing to him. And after the men all rode off, Gilbert had only felt a sense of relief that they were gone. His only concern had been to check on Beatrice and make sure she was safe. Thank goodness she had discovered the make-shift door to the dark corridor on her own. He wasn't sure what the gruff Sheriff would have done if he'd found her inside the castle but Gilbert was certain he would have been arrested without fail.

She had wandered further down the corridor than he expected. Her explanation that she got lost made perfect sense. It was easy to get turned round in the darkness. But then she'd pounced on him, practically begging him to take her into town. Until she mentioned the danger to her family, he hadn't even considered the fact that she lived in the town. And she was desperate for his assistance to rescue her family. She begged him to take her there, to face another devastating fire.

The old fear swelled up, doing it's best to overwhelm him. His skin seemed to shrink over his bones and persperation broke out, drenching him in cold sweat. He felt cold and hot all at once. His stomach started to whirl and the world around him began to spin. The pounding in his skull and ringing in his ears escalated until he could hardly hear a word she was saying. And then she grabbed him, forcing him to look her directly in the eye, and she pleaded desperately.

"Please Gilbert. They're just children."

Children? The thought of vulnerable young children in danger snapped him back from the brink of terror. There was no way he could stand by and do nothing while innocent children suffered. Even if it meant facing his greatest fear. He threw back his shoulders, straightened to his full height and took in a deep, fortifying breath. Letting it out slowly, he focused on calming his racing heart and reining in his fear.

With a few more deep breaths, he managed to get himself under control. The fear was still there, still jangling just beneath the surface, but he muffled it's voice with sheer force of will. As he regained control of his equilibrium, the room righted under his feet and the pounding in his skull slowly receded. Resolved, he took Beatrice by the hand and started leading her up the corridor. At first she tried to dig in her heels, no doubt confused that he was continuing further into the darkness.

"But that's the wrong way." She cried, her voice shrill with frustration.

Gilbert ignored her protest. He couldn't take the time to explain, even if he could make her understand. She would just have to trust that he knew this building better than she did and was leading them in the right direction. When the lantern light finally splashed upon the huge front doors, Beatrice gasped with surprised relief.

"Another entrance. I should have realized."

Automatically, she accepted the lantern he handed her, while he dealt with the latch and in no time he was pulling the door open. Fading sunlight washed into the room. It was getting late. Soon the sun would be setting  and they would be traveling in darkness. Gilbert motioned for her to lead the way. She returned the lantern to him before scurrying through the door. He blew out the light and hung the lantern from the hook by the door before stepping through behind her. After making certain the door was braced, he again grasped her hand and started up the trail.

"It will be dark soon." She puffed, breathlessly.

A glance over his shoulder told him she was struggling to keep up with his pace. Mindful of her smaller size and stature, he shortened his stride. He knew if he didn't accommodate her, she would very likely have a relapse. After all, she had been very ill these past few days. Gilbert prayed he wouldn't have carry her the whole way. Not that he couldn't. Just, that it would slow them down considerably. The walk to town usually took him a little over an hour. He was hoping to arrive before full on dark. If he did have to carry her, the trip would almost double. Although, he had to admit, she didn't seem weak or wobbly. The woman had surprising stamina. She followed him without complaint even though he could see she was beginning to tire. Her determination was truly admirable.

Gilbert returned his attention to the path. He saw no evidence of anyone else having passed this way. The other men must have traveled by the winding river road. It was wider and smoother but, being obliged to adjust to the course set by the river, constantly twisted and turned. There wasn’t a straight stretch for miles.

Gilbert, himself, usually preferred hiking the wooded path. Even though it was little more than a narrow track through the dense forest, it was the far shorter and more direct route. That being the case, they might just arrive in the village around the same time as the Sheriff and his deputy, despite the men being on horseback.

"I hope everyone is all right." Beatrice prayed aloud. "Teddy wasn't feeling well. I'm certain he was coming down with the same illness you nursed me through."

Gently, Gilbert gave the hand he held a comforting squeeze and was gratified when she returned the gesture. They continued on, hurrying as much as they dared. The moment they stepped out of the woods, they both smelled the smoke. They shared a quick, fearful glance and urgently quickened their pace.

Soon, they passed the ruins of the old monastery that marked the northern boundry of the town. From there it was a gentle slope down to the river and they were crossing the old stone bridge. The smoke was thick but the fires lit up the night as if it were broad daylight. They had no difficulty seeing where they were going. The road was packed with people fleeing the inferno and the noise was deafening. A cacophony of people shouting, animals screaming, children crying, and above it all the fire roared as it consumed everything in its path.

Not knowing their final destination, Gilbert allowed Beatrice to lead the way. He stayed close and held tight to her hand, not wanting to be separated from her. His size worked to their advantage. Many people hastily moved out of the big man's path and others stopped in their tracks to allow them to pass before hurrying on their way.

Everything around them was in complete chaos. There didn't seem to be any attempt to organize and try to control the blaze. No bucket-brigade was set up to try and save nearby buildings from catching fire. No one was even trying to extinguish the structures that were already aflame. People ran heedlessly, hither and yawn. Panic and fear were rife. Gilbert just shook his head in disgust.

With all the traffic to navigate, it took nearly as long to reach the Smail townhouse as it had to traverse the countryside getting here. Gilbert was surprised to follow Beatrice up to what must have once been one of the fanciest structures in town. Grand architecture for a small village like Windkirk, but even in the gathering gloom it was obvious the entire structure suffered from neglect. Fortunately, the fire had not yet reached this part of town, but that could change at any moment, so they dare not dally.

Beatrice hurried around to the back of the place and let them in through the servant's entrance.

"Sissy! Teddy! Where are you?" She called as soon as they crossed the threshold. "Felicia! Martine! It's Aunt Bea."

She grabbed a lantern off the table and, with a quick, practiced flick of her wrist, lit the wick. Then she hurried through the kitchen, to the servant’s stairwell. The space was tight, even for her, but she didn't hesitate. Probably so accustomed to them, she hadn't given it a second thought. Gilbert eyed the narrow closet, doubtfully, but he followed. He had to keep his head ducked low to avoid contact with the upper rows of steps and his wide shoulders brushed the walls as he forced his bulky frame up the narrow stairwell in her wake.

Beatrice continued to call to her family, but there was no answer. He could see frustration and panic beginning to eat away at her determination. If they weren't here, where were they? Were they safe? Gilbert understood, all too well, her frustration and worry. At the top of the stairs was a door which Beatrice quickly flung open. She stepped through the narrow opening and, gratefully,  Gilbert followed on her heels. It was a relief to step out of that cramped closet at last.

He glanced around, taking in the vast emptiness of the room even as he continued after Beatrice. It had probably once been a fine dining room, but was now merely a wide empty space. The floor was bare as were the walls. The only clue to the room's intended function was a long, blackened chain hanging from the ceiling in the centre of the room. Once it must have held a grand chandelier. Now it held only a layer of dust and a few stray cobwebs.

Beatrice hastened through an arched opening at the other end of the room. Following in her wake, Gilbert couldn't help noticing how little furnishing there was in what had to have once been a grand family home. There were ghost shadows on the walls where paintings and mirrors must once have hung. Odd dark places on the floor where pieces of furniture had obviously once stood. What furniture he did see was badly worn and of poor quality. It plainly told the story of the family's slow slide into gentile poverty.

Suddenly Beatrice nipped around a corner, taking the light with her and leaving him in darkness. Gilbert hastened after her, fearing he would lose her if he didn't keep up. When he saw her again, she was racing down another long, darkened corridor. He chased after her and watched, helplessly, as she turned yet another corner. By the time he made the turn she was halfway up the grand staircase, still calling loudly to the children.

"Teddy! Felicia! Martine! It's Aunt Bea. Where are you?" Her tone was becoming more frantic with every call.

She was half-way up the second tier of the staircase, headed for the third floor, when a tiny voice echoed through the house.

"Aunt Bea?" Tentative hope filled the child's tone.

"Martine!" Beatrice sped up the last few steps and Gilbert caught up to her just as a tiny body flew from the shadows and leaped out at her.

The child was obviously terrified. Beatrice hastily set the lantern on the floor of the landing and lifted the little one into her arms. Kissing her forehead, she stroked her hair and crooned to her softly. Even if he hadn't known the little girl was her niece, he would have guessed. Both had those same lovely copper red curls and similarly round features. The child was crying quietly, her little arms fastened around her aunt's neck. It was odd how little actual noise the girl made as she sobbed.

Gilbert stepped around the two of them and moved to take a stand by the oriel window he'd noticed at the top of the stairs. He kept his distance, not wanting to frighten the child further. He told himself he would wait patiently for Beatrice to sort things out. A hasty glance out the window, showed the continuing chaos in the darkness outside.

"Where is your mother?" Beatrice asked quietly as she attempted to loosen the stranglehold the child had on her but the little thing was tenacious. She refused to let go and continued to sob quietly.

"Aunt Bea!" Another young voice called out, cracking mid-word.

A tall, skinny boy, on the cusp of manhood, rushed into the small pool of light. His hair a deeper, mahogany red and his features sharper and more defined, but again, there was no mistaking the family resemblance. Beatrice held out one arm and the boy threw himself into her embrace. No sooner had he leaned into her than another little body flung itself into the fold, hugging Beatrice around her waist. Another little girl, from what he could see, with long, honey-toned hair and softly rounded features. All three children were sobbing quietly. Almost as if they were afraid to make too much noise.

"Teddy. Felicia. Am I so happy to see you all. Where's your mother?"

The boy lifted his head and met her gaze, his face a mask of fear and devastation.

"We think Mother is dead."