Chapter Twenty
Guy stood in de Courcelle’s office with the three most important men in New France who drank brandy as they listened to him repeat what he’d told the governor-general earlier. When he finished speaking, de Courcelle stood and moved away from the table. His restlessness was evident in the way he paced.
“Thank you, Poirier. There you have it, gentlemen. We have a serious situation on our hands, one far more serious than we suspected a few months ago when we sent our emissary to Paris. I’m afraid we made a critical error in judgement.”
“Daniel,” Talon interrupted. “Have you told him why we sent Pierre to Paris?”
“No,” he replied. “I thought I’d wait until we were all together since it’d been a joint decision.” He turned to Guy and motioned for him to sit while he continued to pace nervously.
“After the attack in which you were injured,” he began, “Gaudier and some of his men followed the raiding party down the Mohawk route, where they split into two groups—one group turned towards the lake and the Mohawk lands, the other moved south heading into English territory. Pierre sent six of his men to follow those going west while he and his Huron scouts went south.”
He moved to stand in front of the wall map of the colonies and indicated the routes as he spoke.
“Pierre changed out of his uniform into buckskins to make sure his party wouldn’t be mistaken for invaders should they meet any British soldiers. It didn’t take them long to catch up with those they pursued. They came upon their encampment the next day. What he discovered is the reason he was sent to France. The Mohawk braves they thought they were following were trappers in disguise. What made the discovery even more intriguing was that one of his Huron scouts recognized two of the men—they’d trapped with the Huron for many years.”
Guy interrupted angrily. “Sacré bleu! That’s impossible. It would mean white men are attacking and killing settlers. I don’t believe it. For the most part trappers are honorable men. How do you know this scout can be trusted?”
“Let me continue, and then you can decide for yourself whether the story has merit. As a boy, the scout travelled with some of those men on an exploring expedition far to the west near the great waters, which we know is the last of five lakes, the source of the Saint Lawrence River. They wanted to go farther, especially when the tribes told them of great rivers that ran both north and south. The men in question seemed kind and thoughtful, showing concern for the animals. To the Huron, every creature has a soul and torturing the animals they rely on for survival is wrong. That expedition wasn’t sanctioned by the Company of the One Hundred Associates nor the Governor of New France who was the administrator at the time. Leading the unauthorized expedition were two men you may have heard of: Radisson and Des Groseilliers.”
Guy gasped. “Of course I’ve heard of them. Their prowess as fur trappers and explorers was legendary among the coureurs de bois, but I thought they’d retired years ago.”
“Not quite. Let me continue. Once the expedition reached the lake, the explorers met the Cree, a tribe who dwell in that area. They described an area further northwest, where furs were plentiful. Even back then, good furs had become more difficult to find in the settled areas, and the trappers wanted to move out and find richer hunting grounds. The group followed the Cree’s directions and came back heavily laden with prime pelts. Unfortunately for them, deep exploration of the continent was discouraged since the colony was at war with the Mohawks. The ruling parties of the time insisted our trappers avoid moving into unknown territory for fear of increasing the conflict and levied strict fines on those who disobeyed this edict. The colonial policy then, as it is now, was to increase our presence along the Saint Lawrence River where we can govern and protect our people.”
“I understand the policy’s been a bone of contention for some time since the trappers feel they’re being prevented from earning more than a modest living. Pierre had to fine a number of them for illegal trapping. I was there several times when he confiscated furs. Any one of those men could’ve wanted him dead.” Guy added.
Talon nodded. “He made enemies in the process to be sure, but there’s more to tell you.”
De Courcelle moved to replenish his drink, and Talon picked up the narrative. “When the expedition returned to New France, they were fined heavily, as you’ve mentioned, for leaving the area and trapping without permission to do so. Most of the pelts were confiscated. Radisson and Des Groseilliers returned to France to appeal to the crown, but without success. In the end, the men shifted their loyalties to the English and sailed from France to England, and then back to Boston where they now make their home.”
Guy gasped. “You suspect the English are behind this?” Hadn’t he thought the same thing when he’d read the letter for des Courts?
Guy clenched his fist. If the English were trying to start a war between New France and the Mohawk, the colony would be destroyed. With the regiment disbanded, there were barely enough men left to defend their lands and families. The thought Isabelle could be captured by the savages chilled him.
“Yes and no,” continued Talon. “With English backing, Radisson and Des Groseilliers continue to search for an alternate route to those rich fur-bearing areas. New France sits along the easiest route. My sources confirm they’re searching for a passage by which a ship can reach the fur-bearing lands from the north. If they do manage to find one, England will claim those territories, and we’ll be caught between the English both north and south of us. France would be in a precarious position should war break out again. We’d be wedged between pincers, and our ability to grow as a colony would be severely hampered.
“Many of the coureurs de bois resent our policy limiting where they can trap but encouraging any of the tribes to bring their furs to Ville-Marie, Trois Rivières, Tadoussac, or Quebec where they’re paid much less for them than what the trappers expect for theirs, thus lowering their profits, especially when you include the king’s taxes. Some of them have been selling furs that would be taken from them through the Huron, Montagnais, and Mohawk, offering them a commission, so that they get something for them. We believe some of them may be involved in a conspiracy aimed at causing the colony to fail, encouraged by members of the company upset to see the cost of colonization eroding their profits. I’m hoping to embed a spy in the midst by the end of the summer.”
De Courcelle nodded to Talon, refilled his glass of brandy, and stood to continue the tale once more.
“We thought to inform the crown and the French West India Company of this danger, asking that soldiers be returned to New France, but now, we believe the problem may lie with them. The report I sent to France documents the exact crimes of which Gaudier was accused. They turned the tables on us. I laid the blame on the coureurs de bois and the English. Someone has been arming the Mohawks, and you’ve told me that applies to the Micmac as well. I told them that unless the crown and the company was prepared to fund a French expedition to find these rich lands while protecting the citizens of the colony, the English would take over control of all of North America and its fur trade.” He sighed. “I thought the king and Colbert were committed to colonization, not exploration for profit. Now, I’m not so sure. Competition for control of the fur-rich lands are at odds with colonization. I felt it was my duty and the duty of the company to petition the king to protect the colonists”
“Sadly, I believe the company, despite their assistance in supplying the passage for the Filles du Roi, wants colonization to fail. It’s the only logical explanation. The Sieur des Courts is the local representative of the company in New France, and many of the absentee seigneurs refuse to develop the land, paying only lip service to agriculture. Those seigneuries remain primarily land occupied by the trappers and their native guides.” He stopped in front of Guy, his face painted with sorrow. “As you so astutely noted this afternoon, Pierre was killed because of us. We trusted the wrong man with information. Now the colony may be in dire straits because of it, but from what we can deduce, we may not be able to count on France for help.” He stopped pacing and moved to the door. “Come, let’s return to the ladies. I need to apologize to Madame Gaudier. I’ll do all we can to restore his good name in France, but here, he is a great hero.”
* * *
The next morning, Isabelle learned a ship had sailed into the harbor just after dawn. Those who saw the flag flying from the royal mast, quickly spread the news that the first group of the king’s wards had arrived. The women would be brought to shore after the cargo was delivered to those awaiting supplies from France, and everyone, including the governor-general, the intendant, and the bishop would be there to greet them when they landed. Isabelle was excited to see this glimpse of colonial life.
Mass at Notre Dame de Quebec was much as it had been at St. George in Caen, although she was certain she’d never seen a piglet or a chicken in the sanctuary before. The penitents were not as quiet as they’d been at home, since crying babies and noisy children couldn’t be left behind with a nanny, and people spoke more freely amongst themselves than they did in France. The excitement of the bride ship in port probably accounted for much of the whispered conversation. Laval’s homily centered on the need for all citizens to honor their duty to God and the king, and the mass ended with a blessing to go forth and multiply as God had ordered Adam and Eve.
The small group returned to the château with Henri and Monsieur Giroux. Although she knew very little about him, Isabelle did her best to tolerate Gerard. She thought him a touch too nosy, but he made Sophie happy, despite his gruesome tales. Guy had commented more than once how lucky they’d been to have a gunsmith aboard, but until he’d told her about the defective cannons, she hadn’t realized why. Gerard volunteered very little about himself but managed to learn all he could about others. He would’ve made an excellent diplomat. She wasn’t above a little matchmaking and decided he would make a superb husband for her cousin. While he was at least ten years older than Sophie, it wasn’t uncommon for men to marry younger women, especially when the need to have children was a factor.
As soon as the guests and their host had finished their morning meal, they boarded two of the château’s carriages—Guy, Isabelle, de Courcelle, and his secretary in one, and Henri, Aline, Gerard, and Sophie in the other. The carriages moved slowly through the town whose streets were clogged with wagons and pedestrians all heading in the same direction. The crowd parted at the dock to allow the carriages to pass, and the horses finally came to a stop beside Jean Talon’s carriage where he waited for the newest of New France’s citizens to arrive.
“Bonjour, mes amis.” He smiled to include the entire group. “I trust you all slept well your first night ashore.”
“It took some time to get used to it,” said Isabelle. “Walking around the town during the day helped me recover my land legs, but when I lay down, I missed the rocking of the ship. The feather bed was so comfortable I didn’t miss it long.” She chuckled. Her dreams of being in Guy’s arms hadn’t hurt either.
As soon as the second carriage moved into place, Guy introduced Henri and Monsieur Giroux.
“Will you choose a bride today, Monsieur Giroux?” Talon asked, his eyes focused on the man and Sophie,
“That matter’s been attended to, your grace,” Gerard answered cryptically.
Talon grinned. “An excellent choice, I’m sure.”
Isabelle looked over at Sophie, but her face mirrored her own confusion.
Before anything else could be said, the shout went up. The boats had left the ship. The three couples remained in the carriages content to view the proceedings from a distance, while the dignitaries and their secretaries disembarked and went to stand at the front of the crowd, where they’d formally welcome the women to the colony. When a boat reached the pier, the sailors jumped out to secure it and allow its passengers to disembark.
The women, somewhat overwhelmed by the size of the crowd waiting to receive them, were dressed in their best gowns. Each carried a small satchel. From the quality and style of dresses, Isabelle could see that most of them were farm girls from the Provence region of France, their bright print dresses easily recognizable. These were women with a sound knowledge of the skills needed to farm this land. They were pale and thin, far more so than anyone aboard L’Aigle Doré had been, and Isabelle wondered if their crossing had been more difficult. The sheer number of people aboard the vessel which appeared not much larger than L’Érable at anchor beside it couldn’t have carried as many provisions as they had and still had room for the women, their baggage, and the ship’s crew.
Soon, more than seventy girls stood on the dock. On cue from the nun who was clearly their chaperone, they moved toward the administrators, and curtsied. The remainder of their luggage would no doubt be unloaded later.
Isabelle listened intently as the governor-general welcomed the women to their new country and thanked them for agreeing to leave their homes and families to help create a viable colony for France. He was followed by Talon who explained beds, baths, and fresh food awaited them at the convent.
“In the morning, we’ll celebrate twelve weddings, and this will be followed by a small reception on the grounds of my palace. At such time, the eligible bachelors will be allowed to approach you and plead their cases.” Talon cleared his throat. “Should you find yourself unable to find a suitable husband among the men here, you may travel upriver to Tadoussac, Trois Rivières, or Ville-Marie. If you’re unable to find a husband within a year, unless you’ve decided to enter the convent, you must return to France at her own expense.” He frowned deeply and everyone including Isabelle could sense his distaste. “This of course doesn’t apply to those widowed within the past year as you’ll be given an additional six months to mourn before remarrying.”
Isabelle shivered at the thought life could be so short here. But was it really any different in France. Pierre had died in his prime.
“For those girls, I’m sure returning to France would be a great disgrace,” said Aline. “It’d be a sign of personal failure. Judging from the looks of them, I doubt any of them wish to make that voyage again.”
Talon spoke once more. “Now, we have wagons waiting to take you to the convent. It takes a few days to get your land legs back after the long voyage.”
The women, many of them holding onto one another for support, were led to the wagons waiting to ferry them up the hill to the convent where the Ursulines had set up cots for them. The girls would be offered whatever comforts the convent could provide. Once the wagons were loaded, they started up the slope and the carriages followed. Men walked beside the wagons trying to get a better look at the women, and some braved the cross looks from the nuns and spoke to the girls sitting on the edges of the carts. No man could claim a bride unless he could prove he was a Roman Catholic since the colonial policy excluded protestants from the colony. All were welcome as long as they pled allegiance to the Bishop of Rome.
“The captain informed me they lost ten girls on the way over and another twenty are still aboard ship too weak to come ashore on their own,” de Courcelle stated as the carriage moved along in procession. “As soon as the furor dies down, the nuns will go out to the ship and assist in removing them to the convent. It’s hoped with good food and nursing they’ll recover, but I understand a few are already in God’s hands. With the twenty aboard La Jeunesse, the loss is a substantial one. Talon was hoping for two hundred this year. He may not see two thirds of that number.”
Disgusted with his comment, Isabelle looked away. The man might be the governor-general, but those were women he was discussing as if they were nothing more than cattle.
When the carriage stopped in front of the château, Guy helped Isabelle down and explained he needed to spend most of the afternoon with Laval, de Courcelle, and Talon.
“Why don’t you have another bath?” he winked. “I’ll be back later, and we can visit the lower town.”
He bowed and followed de Courcelle and Talon into the château.
Since Guy was occupied, Isabelle, Sophie, and Aline allowed Henri and Gerard to take them to visit a few shops situated just inside the town walls. Aline hoped to find a modiste who might have a ready-made gown for sale. Since it was possible for a girl’s belongings to be damaged by bilge water seeping into the hold, sometimes a dressmaker would have skirts and bodices made for sale or to be used as samples of what she could create. In the third shop they visited, Aline purchased a simply cut pale blue linen gown. To enhance the dress, she bought enough lace to trim the sleeves and neckline, as well as make a small veil for her head.
When they returned to the château, Guy was waiting for them. His face was grim.
“I’m sorry, Maman, but we’ll be sailing as soon as your wedding is over. You and Henri will be unable to attend the feast, but I promise we’ll celebrate your nuptials en famille aboard L’Érable.” He offered his arm to Isabelle.
“Why the haste?” Gerard asked, his lips compressed. “I’d hoped to make more contacts here.”
“Unfortunately, the Indiens claim there’s a storm brewing, and I’d like to be home before it hits.” Guy turned to Isabelle. “We have time before the evening meal to visit the lower town if you like. Would you care to take a final walk around Quebec with me?”
Isabelle nodded and took the arm Guy offered. They walked along Rue St. Jean and out onto the common.
“Why are we really leaving so soon?” Isabelle asked once they were well away from the others. “I thought you had more business with the governor-general. Is there really a storm coming?”
“I don’t know anything specific about the weather beyond the fact storms are common especially after several hot, muggy days like we’ve had,” he admitted. “But as to why we’re leaving, things are worse than we suspected. The wampum belt is fake. Someone is trying to claim an alliance exists between tribes where it does not. De Courcelle spoke with Akhilesh, a Mohawk chieftain I’ve had dealings with myself. The man was in Quebec for a pow wow, a meeting with discussions, with some of the local merchants. Most of his braves are visiting their Outaouais allies upriver from Ville-Marie. He and his men will return shortly to the Lake Champlain area where they make their homes. A belt like this could cause far more problems than we suspected, since it could well cause war not only between us and the Mohawk but between the various tribes. We must get to the bottom of this as soon as we can. As such, we’ve decided to set a trap to flush out the traitors here in the colony. I can’t say anymore now. The walls here, like at Caen, may have ears. I’ll tell you more once we’re aboard L’Érable, but be careful what you say. Henri may well come to know our true purpose, but Gerard doesn’t, and de Courcelle wants this kept as quiet as possible. For now, let’s enjoy the town and one another’s company.”
They skirted the walls as far as the next gate and then went through it to browse the shops of the lower town.
“Once we’re settled in Sophie’s house, I’ll leave you with Maman, Henri, Sophie, and at least two of the new engagés, and go check on our estates.”
“Can’t I come with you?” she asked, not wanting to be separated from him.
“Not this time, my sweet. I’ll be gone overnight, and it wouldn’t be proper to spend the night together unmarried. Before I go, I’ll make arrangements for our wedding to take place as soon as possible. Weddings in Ville-Marie are also held on Mondays.”
Isabelle smiled at him shyly.
“Then, I look forward to next Monday.”
They walked back to the château, where an early supper awaited them. The air was heavy and humid. In the distance, sheet lightning lit up the sky, and Isabelle shivered. Thunder storms bothered her, and she hoped Guy’s comment about the weather would prove to be false. After the meal, she and Guy played chess, and with her skills much improved, she almost won.
Guy walked her to her room.
“We’ll make a good team, Izzy. I may not be Pierre, but I’ll be a good husband and father. This may not be the future either one of us had planned, but I believe it’ll work out.” He kissed her softly before letting her open the door to her room.
Isabelle closed the door and leaned against it. Guy was right. Their marriage would be a good partnership, and while she was certain he wanted her body, she wondered what future he’d planned for himself. Had he expected to marry someone else in the colony? Was there a woman pining for his return whose heart would be broken shortly? It took a long time before she fell asleep.
Isabelle awoke to the sound of rain falling on the château’s copper roof. The droplets became a fine mist by the time the company set off for the church, making the trip less than pleasant. While she’d attended wedding masses before, most recently in Saint Pierre, which had had been a reaffirmation of vows with only three couples; this time there were twelve, including Henri and Aline. In his homily, the bishop reiterated a man and woman’s duty to God, the king, the colony, and one another, and asked God to bless them all with large families. Isabelle was saddened by the fact that not once did Laval mention love. When it became time to pledge their troth, the couples stood side by side. He read off the names of all the brides, those of all the grooms, and then each group repeated their vows together. At the end, the bishop called out each couple by name and pronounced them man and wife.
“Et voici Monsieur et Madame Henri Rigaud,” the bishop intoned solemnly to the congregation.
As the last couple to be called, they led the procession out of the church.
As soon as they were clear of the doors, Guy hustled them down to the dock where they entered the small boat waiting for them. Beside them, two of the voyageur canoes carried couples heading to Ville-Marie, the couples having chosen to skip the feast, too. These were Guy’s men. Had he enlisted them in his task?
When the small boat reached L’Érable, Henri and Gerard climbed aboard first. Guy addressed the three of them.
“I’ve thought about this since I almost lost Izzy, and I’ve decided modesty be damned. I want you to tuck up your dress so that your skirts clear your ankles. It will be much easier to climb the ladder that way. Your safety is more important to me than your modesty. I don’t want anyone else to fall. Izzy, are your shoes secure?”
Isabelle looked at the deep concern on his face.
“They are.”
She stood, pulled her dress up to just below her knees, tucking it into the waistband of the skirt, and let Guy check her shoe ribbons. She didn’t want to take a chance on falling again.
L’Érable was a much smaller vessel than their previous ship and the ladder much shorter. The deck seemed far more crowded with animals, sailors, and passengers. Guy escorted her and Sophie to the cabin they would share so that the sailors could get the ship moving.
As soon as the small boat was secure, Isabelle heard the familiar sounds of the ship weighing anchor. Since it was still raining, she and Sophie stayed in their cabin putting their things in order. Each had only the small satchel she’d taken to the palace, but they unpacked nightshifts and brushes. The cabin, smaller than the one Isabelle had shared with Aline, contained two bunks built into the walls on opposite sides. A screen could be drawn between them to afford some measure of privacy. There was a table secured to the wall next to the door and a tiny window across from it. Above the table hung an oil lamp similar to the one on their previous ship. They were sitting in companionable silence knitting when someone knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” Isabelle called mindful of what had happened the last time someone had knocked unexpectedly on her door.
“It’s me,” Guy chuckled. “It’s stopped raining and the sun is out. Would you ladies like to come up on deck and see the shoreline? We’re close enough to see both sides of the river, and the scenery is magnificent along here.”
“I would like that very much,” she said, setting her knitting aside on her bunk, eager to spend time with him.