Chapter eighteen- Gilbert

Gilbert gingerly shifted Felicia in his arms and strode towards the stone tower. It was the tallest structure left standing among the ruins. Surprisingly, the masonry seemed in good condition, compared to the rest of the place. From the colour of the stone and its architectural details, he guessed the old church to be around the same age as his castle. Perhaps he could make use of some of the loose stone scattered about the site. He tucked this interesting little note into the back of his mind for later.

As he approached the graveyard, an elderly fellow flipped open a heavy wool cloak and spread it over the grass between a couple of headstones. The old man then motioned for Gilbert to set the child down on the wool and stepped back. Gilbert knelt and lay Felicia on the cloak, then turned to help Teddy place Martine beside her. He couldn't help but smile fondly when he noticed the little girl continued to cling tightly to her doll, even in sleep. Neither of the two girls even twitched when placed in the makeshift bed, they were so deep in slumber.

"Teddy, you lay down beside them and keep them warm." Beatrice quietly told the boy as she came up behind them.

It was testament to just how exhausted the lad was, that Teddy made no protest and dropped down beside his sisters. Gilbert got to his feet and stepped back out of the way as Beatrice drew closer. She shrugged off the cloak she wore and gently spread it over the three children, fussing with the edges, tucking and tugging until all three were well covered. Then she lovingly caressed her nephew's hair and straightened. Teddy had already dropped off to sleep.

The elderly fellow nodded silently to them both as he crossed his arms and settled his hip against the low stone wall with a sigh. With the stem of an ancient clay pipe clamped between his teeth, he waved them off, squinting against the tobacco smoke. Gilbert was assured he would look after the children until they returned.

After nodding his thanks to the old man, Gilbert took Beatrice by the hand and together they joined the crowd entering the main part of the church. The old nave was enclosed within stone walls of about five feet in height. Tall enough to block out most of the flickering firelight. At the near end was the bell tower and the graveyard. On the opposite end was the chancel where the pulpit generally sat but it was completely gone. Only the wall connecting the transom to the nave still stood. The east end behind the alter was little more than scattered rubble. Weeds and even a few shrubs grew up around what should have been the apse. It was obvious marauders from the past had targeted the richest areas of the old church. There was no interest for thieves in the public, and so more common, areas of the building. All the richest prizes would have been with the alter and so that part of the church showed the most damage.

Gilbert ushered Beatrice ahead of him and they took their place in the deeper shadows near the wall. Strategically, it was furthest from the pulpit where Sheriff Daimler stood with two elderly gentlemen. Gilbert guessed from their garments one was the mayor and the other the parish priest. In contrast to the crowd, who stood in almost full darkness, the three elders stood awash in the flickering light from the fire.

There was no sign of Narwhal which was surprising. Gilbert expected the blustery merchant to be in the thick of village politics. But he wasn't there and this struck Gilbert as odd. Perhaps, something had happened to the portly merchant.

As they all watched, Sheriff Daimler stepped up in front of the old alter and waved his arms, calling for everyone's attention.

"People, please. If everyone could settle down we could begin." He announced in his gruff, gravelly voice.

The small crowd quieted and the Sheriff nodded in satisfaction, then turned to motion for the mayor to move up and take his place. He was a slim, slight fellow with steel grey hair on his chin and jowls, but very little covering the top of his head. Tucking his hands around his lapels, the mayor looked the crowd over and began to speak.

"Thank you all for coming. We must all pull together as a community if we are to recover from this catastrophe. I know many of us have suffered severe losses here. First, that fever that raged through our community, taking many family members and friends from us. And now this devastating fire." There were murmurs of assent but the mayor raised his hand.

"Please. Please." He waited until the crowd quieted. "There is no hope of saving anything I'm afraid. The town is lost."

He paused to allow time for this to sink in.

"The best we can hope for now, is to keep the blaze contained until it burns itself out. We don't need it spreading to the woods behind us."

Again, the murmurs of agreement.

"Now, we have devised a course of action but we need every available man and woman to do their part. We will patrol the outskirts of the village and douse any stray sparks by whatever means possible. We can work in pairs and we will try to keep the pairing simple. Husbands and wives stay on this side of the river but work your way around to the other side of the village. Single men will cross the bridge and work their way around the opposite side of the town. We need to form a wall of men along the west side of the village as a last line of defense. Keep track of each other. No more than twenty feet apart or so. That way if any man has trouble he has at least three others to come to his aide. Single women will form a bucket-brigade from the edge of the river and pass water to the line of single men. Hopefully we will have doused the flames by morning."

The priest stepped forward then. He was a short, portly little man dressed all in black with a pate as shiny as his round face. He raised the silver cross chained to his belt and in a strong, steady booming voice began to pray. The crowd bowed their heads respectfully.

"We ask the Lord Almighty to guide us and protect us. Blessed be our Lord God, amen."

Echoed murmurs of 'amen' followed.

"We must be vigilant and work quickly but carefully. Enough lives have been lost this day. We will reconvene here tomorrow night to go over our options." The mayor announced loudly.

"I suggest everyone spread out and look for any vessel you can find that will hold water. A bucket, bowl. Even a soaked cloth will work, but be careful not to go too far inside any of those buildings." The Sheriff added and the crowd began to depart.

Gilbert remained near the wall watching the Sheriff as he turned away to consult with a few of the older men who joined the three at the alter. When he was assured their attention was focused on their conversation, Gilbert moved to lead Beatrice out of the church.

They followed in the wake of the crowd and exited the ruins. He wasn't certain what the Sheriff might do if he discovered Beatrice in his company but best not to take any chances. Although, Beatrice had been quite clever, allowing Mr. Sumter to believe they had met on the street by chance, the fabrication might not deceive the Sheriff.

"What do we do now?" Beatrice whispered.

Gilbert stopped near the base of the bell tower and solemnly turned to face her. He traced her pretty features with greedy eyes. If this were to be the last time he would be seeing her, he wanted the memory to be emblazoned in his mind. He hoped she hadn't understood the implications of the arrangements made by the elders.

The single men had been assigned the most dangerous task. The fire on the far side of the village would still be raging and the only water to be found to fight it was acres away. They were literally being sent to the front lines. He might never see her pretty face ever again.

He knew they had to separate. He didn't want to let her out of his sight for one minute, but he couldn't bear to think of her facing such danger. It was bad enough to realize he would be facing the flames alone. But he couldn't stand by and do nothing when these people so desperately needed help. Even if it meant facing his greatest fear.

Impulsively, he crushed her to his chest and captured her lips in a desperate kiss. At first, Beatrice simply allowed it and then she was returning his kiss. Her arms crept around his neck and she clung tightly to him. She stood on tiptoe, straining to reach and Gilbert wrapped his strong arms around her waist and hoisted her off her feet. They stood that way a moment, clinging to one another and then he slowly set her back down on her own feet and stepped away.

Staring deeply into her lovely green eyes, he reached out and gently ran his knuckles over her soft cheek. Then he spun away and ran to join the line of men crossing the bridge. He didn't look back. He couldn't. If he did, he would never be able to do this. That kiss had sparked a firestorm inside his chest. All he wanted to do was lay her down, strip her bare and make sweet, passionate love until the sun rose overhead. But he couldn't do that unless he could offer her marriage. And he couldn't do that until he proved to the world and to himself that he was not a cowardly failure.

Gilbert followed the line of men in front of him until they had reached the farthest side of the village. Here, the fire was still raging and the smoke much thicker and heavier. He took position in the line of men spread out along the edge of the village and waved at the man standing about twenty feet away. Then he turned to wave at the man behind him, also about twenty feet off. He didn't recognize either one, but that was no surprise. He had spent very little time in the village.

Turning his attention to the grass around him, he watched for any stray sparks. His eyes began to water and the dense smoke clogged his nose and dried his throat, but he persisted. A hacking cough had him bending nearly in half in an attempt to find breathable air and he noticed the air was much easier to breathe down here. He remained bent at the waist as he gazed around. Spotting a small fire in the long grass to his left, he moved quickly to stomp it out. There was no fear. He didn't give it any thought. It was a job that needed doing and he was the one to do it.

"Whoa there, laddie. Take it easy." A familiar voice called from his right.

Gilbert squinted, peering through the billowing smoke, caught sight of the tall lanky frame of the friendly clerk.

"Didn't you hear? The Sheriff said we were to work in pairs. You can't just do this all on your own you know."

Gilbert grinned at the other man's teasing. The two worked together after that. When the assortment of pitchers and buckets of water made their way up the line, Gilbert made sure his nearest neighbor received his share, and it was Sumter who caught the empties and tossed them back down the line. Then came the first of the soaked wool and he marveled at the ingenious solution.

Somebody was really using their head. The water was good for dousing the flames, but if there wasn't an ample amount it fizzled away in no time. A soaking wet cloth was a much better solution for smothering the flames. He didn't even pause to wonder where anyone would find such cloth. He simply accepted the length of material and began putting it to the fire. Just then there was a sharp crack, a creak and a groan and one of the buildings nearby toppled in on itself. Above the roar of the fire, a man's terrified scream rent the air.