The Displaced

“The Displaced is an engaging work set in one of the most intriguing locales in Canadian history.” — Kirkus ReviewsExcerpt from the Book: Chapter 1The sound of sheep’s hooves thundering against the sun-hardened road was the first sign that something was not right. The island fortress that housed the city of Louisbourg saw many interesting characters enter its port, but panicked sheep surging … characters enter its port, but panicked sheep surging through the wide main street on a June afternoon was unheard of. The fortress of Louisbourg sat on the eastern edge of Île-Royale, the last vestige of the French Empire on the east coast of the continent. The guardian of the mighty Gulf of the Saint-Laurent, the massive structure was an intimidating reminder to anyone who travelled the North Atlantic to Quebec, the centre of France’s power in North America.

Though cut off from the rest of the French Empire by the ocean and by British lands, the fortress’s stone walls rose proudly above the stormy Atlantic. A bustling city second only to the capital, Louisbourg provided all the modern comforts for its citizens and garrison, and as an international port, it played host to ships from all over the globe. Unfortunately, at the moment, it was being terrorized by sheep.

Pierre was the sixteen-year-old son of Augustus Thibault, a very successful, widowed merchant in the city. Pierre’s father had a hand in everything from wheat and livestock to shoes and pots. One of his largest ships, the Jonas, had sailed from the capital with this cargo of sheep, which were meant to supplement the failing flocks of the farmers around the fortress. Pierre had been placed in charge of transporting the summer flock to the farms surrounding the city, but the animals, after so many days cramped aboard the rocking vessel, found the promise of dry land too appealing and rushed to freedom the moment the little delivery boats reached the wharf.

Louisbourg boasted a market, where cattle, fruit, vegetables, and fresh fish were sold. Located in the heart of the city, it was an unofficial gathering place for many of the townspeople. The vendors heard the commotion and shouts of warning, but it was too late. The flood of sheep rounded the corner. Terrified by the other livestock and the mass of people in the marketplace, what had hitherto been a chase turned into a stampede. The flock splintered, overturning tables of vegetables and leaving terrified poultry in their wake. Oblivious to the traffic, they raced between the legs of horses and surged along the busy thoroughfares, knocking children and pedestrians down as they went.

Pierre ran helplessly behind the pack. Being the son of a merchant, he had very little shepherding experience. Though just sixteen, he stood head and shoulders above most people. His broad shoulders promised strength to come, but his large bones held very little meat—and he had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to contain the thirty charging balls of wool currently streaking through the dirt streets.

Marie-Christine Lévesque had the misfortune of stepping out of the apothecary’s shop near the hospital just as one group of ewes came charging by. Unaware of the over-anxious sheep until it was too late, she tried her best to jump out of the way but lost her balance on the stone step and went tumbling to the ground, the headache cure she’d recently purchased for her aunt stomped to bits by the hooves of the rampaging beasts.

Pierre came running up behind them, cursing under his breath. He paused, bending to help Marie up. Even in his distressed state, he noticed how slim she was and how easy it was to pull her up.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

Marie shook her chestnut hair, looking around for the glass vial which, until a moment ago, had contained lavender oil. “Are those your sheep?” she asked, annoyed but trying to straighten her hat and keep some sense of decorum about her.

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