Three days had passed since her confrontation with Dafne. Dominique, while she had not spoken to Dafne, knew that she had been true to her word and lodged an accusation of witchcraft with the Inquisitor. A group of soldiers, envoys for the Inquisitor, had entered town just yesterday and started posting warnings and rules with regard to public meetings, curfews and other random means of controlling large groups of people. Fear was their tactic and they worked it to their advantage.
Word spread like wildfire through this small hamlet and rumors had managed to reach Nicole’s ears in addition to Dominique’s. While Nicole would have loved to see her mother diminished in some way, the Inquisitor and his gruesome methods of justice were more than even she would have desired. Henri had still not returned and Dominique longed to retreat to the safety and security of his arms. She walked through the town with her head held high as she did not, after all, have anything for which she should be ashamed. But she hated the stares and whispers. They made her feel dirty and try as she might she could not shake that feeling. Surely, these people knew her heart; she had nursed them, healed them, and counseled them. They should know that she lived a life of piety. Once the initial curiosity had worn off, she was sure that they would speak on her behalf.
At her very core, Dominique took solace in the warm memory of the morning the angel had visited her. She had been told by this divine creature that her child had a great mission and that her son would be born safely. It was destined that she would have this child and raise him. She would live to see the wonders of his destiny. The angel had been so reassuring and loving—have faith, she had told Dominique, be not afraid. And faith is what she held onto as this storm approached.
The knock on her door startled Dominique and she reached for the handle. Helene was on the other side of the door, in a state that was moving quickly toward hysteria. “Oh my sweet Lord, Dominique, have you been to town this morning?” She cried, pacing back and forth, “What am I to do? I have a child to support and a business to run. How am I to fill my shelves?”
Helene’s apothecary was a thriving business, providing all manner of teas, potions, remedies and lotions for the townsfolk of Loudun. If you had a problem, Helene would come up with some remedy for it. For her, it was a business that meant the difference between providing for her family and not. It was not, nor had it ever been, a spiritual pursuit. The jars on her shelves needed to be full, in order for the people to keep laying down their money. And now that was in jeopardy.
“What are you talking about Helene?” Dominique was confused.
“I thought you said you went to town today, did you not see all the warnings posted against going into the forest? They can’t do this to me! I need to be able to fill my jars from the plants that I find in the forest and by the river. They will put me out of business! Wretched soldiers…” She was ranting now and Dominique tried to temper her outburst.
“Alright, Helene, calm down. Let’s have a cup of tea and we will talk about it. You are welcome to the herbs that grow in my garden, if you wish.” Dominique felt badly for her, she was so quick to panic. But Dominique’s solution did not assuage Helene’s urgency. “There is no time for tea, Dominique, and unfortunately your lovely garden will not provide me with the specific plants that I require. We have to go now! When the Inquisitor gets here this town will be like one big prison! We won’t be able to breathe without permission.” Helene seemed unconcerned or unaware that Dominique was most likely the object of his visit.
“Let me get my cloak, Helene. Together we will go to the forest and get what you need for your business. Who are they, after all, to keep us out of our own property?” Dominique wrapped her warm, hooded cloak around her shoulders, grabbed her wicker basket and slipping her arm through the handle, they set off to forage in the forest.
It was such a beautiful, clear, crisp day. The weather had not turned terribly cold yet but there was enough of a nip in the air to make the women feel truly alive. Helene was calmer now that Dominique seemed to have the situation well in hand. They spoke comfortably with one another on their walk to the forest; two old friends catching up after not having seen each other in some time. The trees were riddled, as Helene had mentioned, with posted warnings prohibiting their presence within the boundaries of the forest area.
Ignoring the notices, Dominique and Helene picked the herbs and plants they needed, placing armfuls in the baskets they had brought with them. The object of their pursuits took them off the path slightly and into a clearing. The trees swayed in the wind overhead and a host of creatures twittered and rustled in the welter of discordant sound. Neither woman heard the horses approach; they were bent engrossed in the task at hand. Helene noticed them first and gasped slightly as the soldiers rode up off the path. The small clearing where they were picking, four or five feet on the hill above the path, was suddenly surrounded by mounted soldiers.
Dominique looked up and made direct eye contact with one of the soldiers, waiting. “Mesdames, are you not able to read?” He demanded sarcastically. “Why are you in a restricted area when it is posted everywhere?” Dismounting, the Corporal approached the women.
Helene mumbled some apologies, and with head bent, moved closer to Dominique. In a gesture of loving protection, Dominique moved her hand to gently nudge Helene behind her. Standing as tall and straight as she was able, Dominique replied, “I can read quite well, young sir. Under whose authority, pray tell, do you operate? This forest is public property and I know of no law that prohibits the citizens of Loudun access to public property. Do you know who I…,”
The sword was out of its scabbard and through the right side of Dominique’s chest before she finished the sentence. So lightning fast and unexpected was this action that Dominique looked down at the growing circle of blood on her cloak with a question in her eyes. Helene screamed with horror at the sight of her friend, impaled on the end of the soldier’s sword. The soldier, coldly and remorselessly, withdrew and wiped the sword clean of blood before returning it to its scabbard.
Shocked, Dominique stood staring at her chest, before dropping to the ground, hand holding the bloody wound. The Corporal spoke with a self-satisfied smirk. “I, frankly, don’t care who the hell you are. Now, leave the forest—under order of the Inquisitor.” He and his fellow soldiers rode away, leaving a devastated and frightened Helene cradling Dominique’s head and sobbing.
“Oh my God, Dominique—what do I do?” Helene screamed for help, sobbing. Dominique grabbed her sleeve and with the last ounce of strength, she whispered urgently, “You must run, Helene, run as fast as you can and fetch the Abbot, he will know what to do.” Dominique’s arm fell to her side and her head lolled over, her eyes closing. The pain was excruciating but all Dominique could think about was her unborn child, she must hang on until the Abbot arrived. She tried to calm the beating of her heart, knowing with each beat she was losing more of the blood her baby so desperately needed to survive. Ian would have very little time to act, once he arrived.
The Abbot rode up to the spot where Helene directed him and dismounted from the seat on the wagon quickly. Knowing only that he would need some way to transport Dominique—whatever the outcome, he had taken the extra minutes to retrieve the donkey and wagon from the barn. He was horrified to see his beloved Dominique lying in a pool of blood that turned the earth almost black. He had ridden as fast as could but it did not look like he would be able to save Dominique. The wound went through her chest and diagonally out her back. If the sword had by some luck missed her heart, it had certainly managed to do significant damage and the blood loss alone would be enough to end her life. This was not the way it was supposed to happen, he thought as he knelt beside her.
Almost unconscious, Dominique whispered hoarsely, “Please save my son.” The Abbot had to lean very close to her face already growing cold in order to hear her plea. Life was slipping away from her; he would have to act quickly. He softly kissed her cheek and pulling the sharp knife hidden in the shaft of his cross, the Abbot prepared to help grant her wish, praying that he was not too late.
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Blackness surrounded Dominique, only to be replaced by a bright shaft of light before her. As awareness dawned that she had floated out of her body, which she could see lying on the forest floor, she looked up to see Therese. Therese was beautiful, she had skin like alabaster and her eyes were filled with an overwhelming love for Dominique as she held out her hands to hold her. “Oh, Therese, you are here, I can see you. I knew you would come. That is me lying over there, isn’t it? What about my baby? This is not God’s will, is it? He is destined, is he not?” Dominique was overwhelmed with questions. Her conviction that no harm would come to her or her baby had been so strong—isn’t that what the angel had promised—that she would spend the rest of her life loving Henri and his son.
Therese left Dominique’s side momentarily and placed her hand over the Abbot’s, spiritually guiding the knife that was poised over Dominique’s body. With the steadying energy from Therese’s hand, the Abbot deftly cut the baby from Dominique’s womb, causing him no harm. As he brought the red-haired boy out of the now still body of his friend, Dominique heard his first plaintive cry. Her heart ached to hold him.
“My beloved,” Therese gently explained, “your child will live and has a great destiny. He will be a great leader of this country. Your son will grow to be a good man, but he will experience physical frailty. His frailties will only serve to make him a better leader, more humble and with a greater connection to his people. But you, my beloved, will watch him from your Father’s house. You have served Him well, be not afraid. Dominique, you have loved well, now it is time to go home. All is well with your soul.”