Four highly-decorated warriors asked to speak with the Father Superior. Father Brébeuf rushed to Etienne and Tsiko, his skirts swishing. “Fetch the Fathers.” The door to Father Rageuneau’s room sat ajar. Etienne knocked then gave it a small push. Father Rageuneau was working in the yellow glow of a candle at a small wooden table. There was no heat. He only made use of his fireplace when the weather was bitter, in order to set an example to those he directed. Above his desk, the Saviour hung painfully from the cross. Etienne coughed, and Father Rageuneau looked up quizzically. “There are Huron to see you,” Etienne said. The Father Superior returned his pen to the inkwell. He closed his eyes, clasped his hands and tilted his head towards the ceiling in prayer. In his own room, Father Mesquin sat on his wooden bench with eyes closed. His prayer book was about to fall from his hand. He woke with a start when Tsiko removed it and placed it on his table. “What are you doing in my chamber?”
