Chapter 1 Isabeau #2
Papa was still standing, his face frozen in an expression of grim acceptance rather than surprise. It was as though he had expected this, had known it was coming.
“The family will now choose who among them shall cross the bridge,” Father Simon announced.
But there was no choice to be made. Our family consisted only of Papa and me. And I would not come of age until tomorrow. By village law, only those of age could be sacrificed to the forest.
That left only one option.
“Nay!” I screamed, finding my voice at last. I scrambled to my feet, clutching at Papa’s sleeve. “Please, nay! I am but a day from my eighteenth year! Surely that is close enough!”
“The law is clear,” Father Simon said coldly. “The sacrifice must be of age. Arnaud Dubois, step forward.”
“Please,” I begged, looking around at the villagers who had known me my entire life. “Please, someone take his place instead or let me volunteer!”
But no one met my gaze. No one stepped forward.
“Isabeau,” Papa said gently, cupping my tear-stained face in his callused hands. “My beautiful daughter, my little bell. This is how it must be.”
“It cannot be,” I sobbed. “I cannot lose thee too. Not after Mama. Please, Papa.”
“Thou hast a full life ahead of thee,” he said, his voice steady despite the tears in his eyes. “Thou wilt marry, have children, grow old surrounded by those who love thee. I have lived my life. I have known great love with thy mother, and great joy in raising thee.”
“I care not for marriage or children if it means losing thee!”
Two village men approached, ready to escort Papa to the bridge. I clung to him desperately, my fingers digging into his arms.
“Take her,” Father Simon ordered.
Strong hands pulled me away from Papa. I fought against them, kicking and screaming, but they held me fast.
“Stop this madness!” I cried. “He’s all I have! Please!”
Papa didn’t struggle as they led him to the bridge. He walked with dignity, his head held high, though I could see how his hands trembled at his sides. The same hands that had crafted countless inventions, that had braided my hair when I was small, that had held me when Mother died.
“Let me say goodbye,” he called over his shoulder. “At least grant me that.”
The men paused, looking to Father Simon, who gave a curt nod. They released Papa, who turned and walked back to where I was still being restrained.
“Unhand her,” he commanded. “Let me embrace my daughter one last time.”
Reluctantly, they let me go. I fell into Papa’s arms, sobbing against his chest as I had done as a child after a nightmare. But this nightmare was real, and no morning light would banish it.
“Listen to me,” he whispered fiercely in my ear. “Thy mother’s locket, wear it always. It will protect thee when I cannot.”
I nodded, unable to speak through my tears.
“I love thee, Isabeau. More than the sun loves the day, more than the moon loves the night. When thou lookest at the stars, know that I am watching over thee.”
“I love thee too, Papa,” I managed to choke out.
All too soon, the men returned. “It is time,” one said, not unkindly.
Papa pressed a kiss to my forehead, then to each of my cheeks. Then he stepped back, allowing the men to guide him toward the bridge.
I remained where I was, my legs unable to support me. Colette appeared at my side, wrapping her arms around me as we watched Papa walk toward his doom. My legs gave way. Falling to my knees as my closest friend followed to shield me.
The sun had nearly set now, casting long shadows across the village square. Papa stood at the entrance to the bridge, silhouetted against the dying light. He turned one last time to face the crowd—to face me—and raised his hand in farewell.
Then he crossed.
We all watched in terrible silence as he made his way to the other side, his figure growing smaller with each step. When he reached the forest’s edge, he stopped, standing tall against the darkness that waited to claim him.
The last sliver of sunlight disappeared behind the distant hills.
Night fell.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then a low, rumbling growl emanated from the depths of the forest. It wasn’t the sound of any animal I had ever heard. It was deeper, more primal, as though the forest itself had found its voice.
Something moved among the trees. A shadow darker than the darkness surrounding it. It was massive, with what looked like the outline of horns or antlers crowning its head. It moved with terrifying speed, darting from the right to the left.
Then it lunged.
Papa’s scream tore through the night as the beast seized him. In the torchlight from the village, I could see only glimpses—enormous claws, glinting teeth, eyes that burned like coals in the darkness.
“I love thee, Isabeau!” Papa’s voice called out, breaking with pain. “Live thy life in my honor!”
Then he was gone, dragged into the depths of the dark forest, leaving nothing behind but the echo of his final words and a trail of disturbed earth.
The villagers around me began to disperse, their relief at being spared palpable.
Some muttered prayers, others offered me awkward condolences as they passed.
But their words washed over me without meaning.
I remained kneeling on the ground, staring at the now-empty bridge, the spilled herbs from my basket scattered around me like the shattered pieces of my heart.
Colette stayed, her arm around my shoulders, her tears mingling with mine. We remained there long after everyone else had gone, long after the torches had burned low.
“Come,” she finally whispered. “Thou canst not stay here all night. The beast... it might return.”
But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away from the spot where I’d last seen Papa. The terrible finality of it all crashed over me in waves. He was gone. Sacrificed to a forest that hungered for human life. And tomorrow, when I woke to my eighteenth birthday, I would be utterly alone.
The herbs I’d so carefully collected lay forgotten at my feet, trampled and crushed…useless, just as my knowledge of them had been useless in saving Papa. What good was learning to heal the body when the soul could be so brutally torn away?
My fingers clutched at the locket hanging at my throat. The one Papa had mentioned in his final words to me. It had been my mother’s, and now it was all I had left of either of them.
“Protect me,” I whispered to it, though I knew not from what. The beast had claimed its sacrifice. The village was safe for another year.
But as Colette helped me to my feet and led me away from the bridge, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this night wasn’t truly over. That somewhere in the darkness of the Forbidden Forest, something waited. Not just for Papa, but for me as well.