Jane cringed against the side of the carriage, the shock of the gun combining with the strong memories of the last time she had beheld a gun at close range. Vincent sat forward, putting his arm in front of her as though that could shield her in some manner.

In French, the man said, ‘Out. All of you.’

Vincent went first, though Jane would have held him back if she could. Within moments, she and the other passengers were standing beside the diligence. Three ragged men faced them, the one with the gun and two more with rusted sabres. A fourth held the horses, and a fifth stood atop the carriage with another pistol pointed at the coachman.

The German soldier said something in French, but his native tongue so coloured the language that Jane could scarcely understand him. She heard only the word, ‘Napoleon.’

The ragged man with the pistol replied hotly. The others joined in, also shouting various imprecations at the German. She gathered they were Bonapartists set on taking the diligence for their cause and was not surprised that the German did not join his former allies.

Lowering his voice, Vincent said, ‘Dearest, do you remember your Beast?’

‘Yes.’ She could not see what their ill-fated tableau vivant had to do with the current situation.

He then turned to the soldier and, to her surprise, spoke to him in German. This provoked a furious outburst from the rebel with the pistol, but a nod from the soldier.

The Flemish lady spoke up then, gesturing sharply with her fist at the ruffians who held them. ‘Napoleon? Feh!’ She spat on the ground. Her young charge grabbed her arm and pulled her back all too late.

One of the sabre bearers advanced with his blade raised.

Vincent said, ‘Jane. Frighten the horses. Jetzt!’ He and the German sprang to action in the same instant.

Startled, Jane could only stare for a moment, then she gathered herself and stripped off her gloves. With her hands bare, Jane threw the folds of the Beast around her, caring little about artistry in her haste. Raising the arms of the horrible creature, she menaced the horses.

The German clambered onto the top of the diligence while the rebel there struggled with his gun. His footing was upset as one of the horses reared, tearing its traces free. The postillion took advantage of this to urge the horses forward. His coachman helped the German subdue the gunman on the carriage while the Bonapartist holding the horses flung himself out of the way of their charge.