Beast and Beatrice

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 detail 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, 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 a testament to just how exhausted the lad was, that Teddy made no protest but quietly dropped down beside his sisters. Gilbert got to his feet and stepped back out of the way as Beatrice drew closer. She shrugged off her cloak 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 that 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 as they took their places 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 the better dressed fellow 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.