What sort of crazy title is that?
My book is not about Suzon at all. So why does she figure in the title?
Well, she doesn’t – not really.
Let me explain. We’re in France at a time of religious persecution. People and sensitive documents are being smuggled from one country to another. After a clandestine meeting, Gédéon’s father is being arrested by King Louis XIV’s soldiers.
I’ll read what happens:
He turned to me and in a gentle voice said, “Adieu, son. Greet Suzon for me.”
They left. I was alone. Trembling. Who was Suzon? And what was I to do?
Next day, still with his host family.
“Papa said I should greet Suzon.” I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. “But I have no idea who that is. Or where she lives. Somewhere east of here, I guess. He pointed that way.”
“Wait,” Danton broke in. “You spoke of a colporteur in the mountains. That’s probably Jean Giraud. He’s well known in our circles – travels back and forth as a pedlar between the Alps, Lyon and Geneva, selling wares and books. But secretly, he smuggles letters – and helps Huguenots escape. He has a little daughter.” He turned to his wife. “Isn’t…?”
“That’s right, her name’s Suzon!” she remarked, her face beaming. “I remember wondering why they chose a Hebrew name.” She rested her chin on her hand for a moment, gazing into the distance, then added, “She must be three or four by now.”
“Why would Papa want to send greetings to a little child?” I asked. “They can’t possibly know each other.”
Danton turned his gaze to me again. “That was a secret instruction. Your father trusts you to go on without him. To deliver the reports of how we are being persecuted to the Protestant leaders in Geneva. You must find Jean Giraud. He will bring you there.”
