Blue Rose and Raven: Chapter Three

The Dufresne family leaves for their country home in the mysterious village of Amersot, and Marius makes a new friend.

Our cottage was meant as a summer home, a small piece of property that we would barely visit. The place had about five rooms with thin walls and dust in every corner. There was the kitchen and living room, leaving three bedrooms. Four of the windows of the house were broken, so colonies of bugs now made their homes inside. The air smelled stale and damp, the kind of air that clung in the back of the throat when breathed in. The furniture was mostly rotted and covered in cobwebs. Remains of curtains hung like shredded paper over the windows, victims of vagrant moths no doubt. Just walking inside the place made the house cry out in protest. Several times I caught myself almost stumbling into a jagged hole in the floorboards while small things scampered about underneath out of sight.

            After unloading the wagon, we decided who would room where. Predictably that left me and August to room together. Our room’s only window viewed the forest outside and was broken, a single spider making its home on a web in the pane. There was a desk, dresser, and small bed. The sheets were covered in dust, leaves and mold and smelt vaguely of droppings. I turned to August with pleading eyes.

            “I’ll take the bed,” August declared. I sighed in relief.

            Later as evening drew close, we ate meat stew and bread from the remaining food we brought on our journey. The kitchen table and chairs were too dirty and flimsy to use, so we collectively decided to eat on the floor. The fire crackling in the hearth was a small comfort from the chilly air of the house. We all huddled near its bright light, its warmth already reminding me of better times. We ate in silence.

The first night was equally strange. August stripped the filthy sheets from the bed and used fresh blankets we brought with us. I made a makeshift cot from spare pillows and blankets. The floor was hard and creaked with every move I made. My body tingled all over, partially from cold, partially from from bugs. I heard nothing from August the entire night besides the occasional heavy sigh, so I assumed he fell right to sleep. I barely slept that night, just staring at the ceiling in between any rest I managed to steal. In between my thoughts and the hard floor, the incessant howling of wolves throughout the night made sleep the more difficult. Sometimes the howls were close to the house, sometimes far away. There must’ve been hundreds in the night, and they seemed to take pleasure in tormenting our cottage. If I was naïve, I would’ve thought all this a bad dream. But there was my head pressed through a pillow against the hardwood floor. My fingers were dotted with tiny splinters from the wagon. My clothes smelled of damp hay. The proof was there, plain to see. It was pointless to deny reality, considering my original profession was to interpret it. There wasn’t much place for a painter in the real world now. My fears of the future flooded through my head no matter how hard I tried to silence them. Soon I decided to just shut my eyes to force a silence in my head. It worked, if only momentarily.

We convened the next morning around to discuss our plans going forward. As he’d mentioned weeks before, Connie’s carpentry served us well. Mother declared that she would speak with other merchants in town to restart a piece of her company’s trade, with August accompanying her. That left me, Camille, and Caesar. I offered to find work in the market, accompanying Connie into town.

“Well, our primary focus is to get this place into shape,” She motioned to the house. “We can’t live in these conditions. But I can’t fix up the house and keep track of Caesar,” She turned to me. “You could stay and help me.”

            The present state of the house and the amount of work needed filled me with anxiety. “I�"I don’t know if I’ll be useful.”

            “You’ll be fine, Mare,” Connie assured, patting my shoulder. “Cami’s got a few tricks up her sleeve.”

            Once all was settled, the three departed into town. The minute the door shut, Camille turned to me and fetched a broom. “I need you to sweep every room in this house. Make sure it’s as spotless as you can manage. That will be your first task.”

            “First?” I said meekly.

            Indeed it was the first of many that day. I swept every inch of that tiny house, removing any detritus that infested each corner of the place. At first, I felt strange and inadequate. I rarely needed to perform chores growing up. That was servants’ work. But with our circumstances, I knew it would do no one good to be petulant. So I took to my task with zeal. The more I worked, the more I imagined the fronds of the broom to be a massive paintbrush. Each stroke removed another layer of dust, painting over the original house. Spare leaves collected into damp brown piles along with balls of cobwebs and mounds of animal droppings. After I finished and everything was disposed of, Camille had me beat the dirt from the carpets. Draping the carpets over a large stone, I attacked it savagely with a carpet beater. In between hard coughs from the dust clouds, I heard Camille laughing and jokingly calling from the house “Put your back into it!”. Another simple task but all accounts, but very satisfying in its way. Even Caesar came out to help me at one point, his meaty arms heaving a broken stick against the carpet. I wondered what Camille was up in there. Was she cleaning corners I had missed? Killing vermin? Basic carpentry? Camille didn’t seem at all bothered by the present state of the house or the newfound difficulties of fixing up a broken house. It gave me security knowing that at least one person wasn’t bothered by these circumstances.

            With the carpets sufficiently depleted of their dirt, I turned to Caesar, whose face was now a mask of dust. He smiled at me with stick still in hand. “What else do you think today has in store for us?” I asked the kid.

            “More things to hit?” Caesar said.

            I laughed. “I don’t think so.” I took his little hand and together we headed back to the house.

 

            There were a few more chores to do afterward, but they were easily finished compared to the previous two that day. While I was beating the carpets, Camille was indeed cleaning out untouched corners of the house with a feather duster and searching for nests in the walls, laying strongly scented papers and other pest control items she brought to ensure the animals would stay away from our food stocks. By the afternoon, the house was clean or cleaner than when we first arrived. We had far more work to be done, however.

            Camille tossed me a tiny bag of livres. “Buy some firewood. Cedar. We can’t be worried about catching cold every night.”

            I nodded and headed outside. Both horses were taken by Mother and my brothers. The town square was a short walk from the cottage. The dread of carrying firewood any distance began settling over me like a shroud. I was lank and thin. Connie or August could manage this task with ease, but not me. I looked at the bag of coin strapped to my belt, then back to the tiny house at the edge of the woods. It was so tiny and humble, its roof covered in leaves and sunken like an ill-baked cake. The woods behind it rose high and wild beyond the house. Would you live with yourself if you were a coward now? A serpentine voice whispered in my ear. You could always just let Camille do this. She is doing so much more than you.

            I shook myself free of the thought and the cold. No, I thought. I have a duty. Just get firewood. It can’t be that difficult.

            The village proper was much like our house: a small, chilly, humble place. The cobblestone streets led to a cluster of shops and houses that were quietly active with chatter and people doing business. Children ran this way and that chasing each other, and workers hauled freight onto wagons which lurched to life away to their destinations. There was a mill with a waterwheel creaking around its axis. Nothing in the square stood out as extraordinary or ornate; the place was as ordinary and plain as the place was clothes on everyone’s backs. There was no fancy curio shop. There was no art supplies store. That fact left me both relieved and sad, which mystified me. Aside from the golden lights from the windows, there was little color to the scenery. It may have been the overcast weather and the trees hanging overhead, but the place lacked the golden-brown hues of fall. There should’ve been piles of leaves with fiery colors littering the cobbles and housetops. Instead, the place was a canvas painted in mud and dust.

            It was the village square that caught my eye, however. There should’ve been a well or a platform for which the town crier shouted the news to the world. Instead, a large vine-strangled statue, about the size of grown two men, stood at the center. As I walked closer to it, the statue’s true form became more visible through the chains of vegetation. I could see scalloped shapes of overlapping feathers, scaled feet with curved talons, a long beak terminating in a hooked end. The statue was carved black stone that was still smooth and shining despite being buried under thorny vines. The vines themselves were dotted with tiny, closed buds. Strangest of all was when I pressed my hand against it, I felt vibrations travel through my body. I swore I heard a faint sound in my ears. Was it…music? The statue appeared forgotten, yet it sat at the center of the town like a tree or a lamppost. Everyone passed it by like it didn’t exist. I withdrew my hand, staring at the statue again before returning to my mission.

            After searching the market, I found a firewood seller who gave me five logs. The large man helped me strap the wood to my back. I thanked him and began my walk back home. I was at the edge of the town square heading into the woods when I heard the swish of a branch hitting flesh and the anguished yelp of a dog startled me. I searched for the source of the noise.

            “Stop it! Stop it, you brutes!” I heard a young girl shout. Sneering laughter answered. Up ahead, I saw a crowd of boys huddled in a circle. One of them, well-dressed in a tailored blue overcoat, clean white trousers, and polished black shoes, held his foot on the belly of a medium-sized golden dog. He held over his head a long switch branch in a gloved hand which he brought down again and again on the body of the dog. The poor thing yelped with each strike. The girl, who looked about my age, rushed again and again at the trio grabbing and yelling at them to let the animal go. But every time they pushed her to the dirt, splattering her dress and face with mud and laughing raucously.

            I had encountered people like this before. I was the smallest of my brothers and quiet, so it made me prime targets for those who enjoyed hurting defenseless things for fun. I’d been tripped, pelted with rocks and sticks, splashed with mud. Drawings were tossed into puddles or torn up. And I cried, which only made them laugh more. But like a foal’s whinny calling its mother, my brothers would always be close behind to help me. Connie only glared at my assailants, his eyes piercing atop his mountain of a frame. August too merely needed to stand beside Connie and bear his sharp eyes. Their combined presence threatened terrible violence on whoever dared hurt me. When I asked Connie about why he never hit them, he told me, “Cowards always choose smaller targets because they know that if they picked on someone bigger, they’d instantly lose.” I asked if that meant that I was destined to be weak.

“Not exactly,” August added, “It’s all in presentation. The limpest arm can be strong if you believe it to be so. A bear stands up tall first before attacking. If you call its bluff and make noise to scare it, it runs away.”

But my brothers weren’t here to help me. They were too busy helping the family. And I was my small self-weighed down by firewood and fear. But I wasn’t going to let them continue their sick game any longer. “Hey!” I shouted, approaching them quickly. “Leave the dog alone!”

They turned to face me. The other two boys were kids dressed in fine clothes like their leader. One had a large, well-fed bloated face while the other’s face was slim and covered in freckles. The leader was blue-eyed and strong jawed with black hair tied back. His face would’ve been very handsome if not for the ridiculous drawn-on mustache above his upper lip. It was already smearing at the corners. He resembled a defaced painting of a lord, a parody of a nobleman.

“And who are you?” The leader said, lip pulling into a sneer. “I haven’t seen you before.” He pointed his switch branch like a rapier at my chest. “Are you some knight errant come to save this defenseless maiden?” He and his posse chuckled.

I flushed with fear. I had never been in a fight and was not very strong. If this went any further, I would be at a loss. “I�"You shouldn’t be hurting that girl’s dog,” I stammered. “It’s cruel.”

The leader laughed again. “The dog pissed on my shoe. It deserved forty lashes. That’s how captains punish those who disobey.” He began circling me. “My father was a sailor you know. He whipped plenty of people in his time. Especially darkies like you.” I bristled at the insult. He noticed and continued. “You should know your place, you know. People like you and her don’t protest when your superiors are meting out punishment. Right, Elaine?” He smiled to the girl tending to her dog. She viciously spat at his shoes. “She knows,” he said, turning back to me. “You are beneath me, good sir. So, I recommend you take this lesson to heart before I whip you too.” He came dangerously close to my face where I could see every detail of his repulsive face. His cheeks were caked with makeup to conceal obvious pimples. His mustache was smearing further from sweat. His eyes had no emotion. There was only cruel glee behind them. “Are we clear?”

“One question,” I said quietly, perking up his eyebrows. “Does everyone know how ridiculous your mustache looks, or do you just punish anyone who tells you?”

Instantly the glee disappeared from his eyes. He breathed a heavy sigh and turned around casually, and with one swift movement hurled his fist into my face. I heard something crack and saw stars before tumbling to the ground. I tasted blood as the leader’s foot jammed his foot into my ribs once, twice, three times before taking a handful of mud and splashing my face. My vision swirled and popped with black spots before focusing long enough to see the three standing over me. The leader had removed his white gloves now stained with mud and blood and threw them on top of me. “You owe me new gloves,” He sneered again. He kicked more mud onto me before strutting away, his friends following close behind.

I lay in the mud, my face blazing with pain. That’s what I get for trying to be a good person, I thought. Still small, still weak. Could barely defend someone, let alone myself. Tears teased the edge of my eyes as the pain in my face kept rhythm with my heart.

My self-pity was interrupted by a big sloppy tongue slapping across my face followed by a loud bark. My vision cleared enough to see the flopping jowls of a mastiff happily slobbering across my face. “Eloise, get off of him!” The girl said, pulling the dog away. “Are you alright? How do you feel?” A dirty, kind face with large green eyes and black hair looked down on me in concern.

“Terrible,” I muttered.

“It’s a start,” She shrugged, holding out her hand. I grabbed and she hoisted me up. “Oh God, your nose is bleeding!” She gasped.

I wiped my face. My hand was smeared with blood and mud.

She gave me a handkerchief, which I held to my leaking nose. “That was profoundly brave of you. Eloise and I thank you.” She motioned to her mastiff, who leaned on her with a big toothy smile.

“You mean stupid,” I said through the cloth. “I just humiliated myself.”

“At least you stood up to him.” She said sadly. “Where do you live? I’ll walk with you.”

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“My name is Elaine. This is Eloise. Don’t let her size fool you, she’s a big softie.” She massaged the dog’s wrinkled head. “You’re not from around here. What do I call you?”

“Marius Dufresne.”

“A pleasure, Marius,” She curtsied, smiling. I bowed in response.

After helping collected my scattered firewood, we began walking back to my house. Elaine told me everything about this town and her history with it: she’d lived here her whole life with her family. After her parents died of a sudden illness, her Grandma stepped in to raise her.

Amersot, it seemed, was cold all year round. Summers were more like fall, and winters were bitter and cruel. Only the hardiest food would grow here, so carrots and radishes and kale were common ingredients. In addition, the woods were so thick that leaving the path meant getting lost for days and days to be prey to wolves. I asked why anyone would live here if this place was so far away and so harsh.

“Well, it didn’t used to be this way,” Elaine said wistfully. “Grandma says that the forests were so very green, and the weather was perfect year-round. People didn’t avoid Amersot. Everyone knew this place and would come from miles around. Because deep in the forest, there was a castle. A beautiful castle filled with magic. Actual magic, would you believe that?”

I didn’t, but I kept listening, intrigued.

“There was this family that lived there. A family of wizards or witches who could perform miracles using art. Grandma says that all art is a form of magic. The ability to take something as simple as a paintbrush or a pencil or a series of keys striking string and create worlds within people’s minds.” Elaine sighed dreamily. “It’s such a beautiful thing, don’t you think?”

I thought back to my own experiences with my teacher, smiling. “It is.”

            “But something happened in that castle. The youngest daughter of the family, who Grandma said was one of the most beautiful in all of France, did something terrible one night before a massive audience. One of the guests was a fellow thaumaturge, an enchanter. She was so angered by the daughter’s action that she placed a curse on the castle and land. Now the castle is lost to everyone and it’s always cold. People have tried to find the castle, but no one ever comes back.” She looked to the forest and shuddered. “I don’t want to know what’s out there.”

            “What could possibly be there?” I said in disbelief.

 “No one knows. Like I said, no one who has looked for it has ever come back.”

            The sun had begun to set when we at the cottage. My nose had stopped bleeding, but Elaine let me keep the handkerchief. A welcoming token, she said with a laugh. Noticing the sky washing orange than bloodred and the ever-lengthening shadows, I realized just how late it was. I stared behind into the dark path flanked by trees and images of bright yellow eyes and sharp teeth filled my head.

            “I don’t know if you should walk home at this hour,” I said in a hushed tone. “How did it get so dark so soon?”

            “That happens around here too,” Elaine replied, her expression nonchalant. “We’re all used to it at this point.” Her eyes darted back and forth at the trees. “Though we shouldn’t be out here when the sun goes down.”

            “Then you can stay the night and head home tomorrow,” I ventured, “If your Grandma is mad she can come after me.”

Elaine laughed. “She won’t be, I know it. I only need to come home tomorrow. Besides, I didn’t bring my red cloak. I can’t afford to get lost.” I didn’t know what she meant by that.  

We stepped onto the porch and headed inside. The house was bathed in gentle golden light from several small candles blazing in the corners. Camille stood in the kitchen with Connie, a bubbling pot of stew over a hot stove. August sat uncomfortably on a stool by a candle reading. Mother busied with setting places on the floor. And Caesar played with little wooden toys. The minute we walked in, everyone looked up in surprise.

“Marius!” Mother cried in surprise. “Where have you been!” She rushed to me before anyone else could. Her eyes widened. “And what happened to your face?!” Eloise curled behind Elaine, large head cowering between her owner’s legs.

“Mother, let me explain�"” I started.

“And who is this?” Mother demanded, hawk eyes like daggers on Elaine. “Did she do this to you? Because I swear�"”

“Mother!” I said firmly. My sharp tone surprised even me. I took a breath, then calmed myself. “This is Elaine. She was being accosted while I was on my way home from the market. I helped her and, well, I paid for it,” I motioned to my nose.

“Your son has been very kind, Madame,” Elaine said, bowing her head. “I ask if I can stay the night. It’s best I don’t walk home alone at this hour.”

Mother’s eyes narrowed, darting between Elaine and me. “We can prepare a small cot,” Mother said, stern expression relaxing. “But if you hurt my boy in any way�"”

“I assure you, I didn’t,” Elaine said, cracking a slight smile. “He was very brave.”

I rolled my eyes.

            We had an extra bowl and silverware for Elaine, plus leftover scraps of meat and bone for the dog. We sat in a circle around tiny lit candles, the sun disappearing over the horizon as we ate. Over dinner, Elaine regaled the family with her and the town’s history and in return we told our story. She was surprised to hear that we came from the city.

“You’re a lot kinder than I would’ve expected for folk coming from the city,” she said. She explained why: She told us of the identity of today’s assailant: Julius Benoit, son of Alexandre Benoit. For as long as Elaine could remember, the Benoits ran Amersot like their own personal kingdom. They controlled nearly all trade in and out of the town, siphoning off what little money the farmers and blacksmiths and other workers could make to fill their coffers. Alexandre’s reasoning, Elaine explained, was that God rewarded him for hard work as a navalman with abundant wealth. If God desired it, then He would bless the village with abundance. Of course, any excess harvests and profits from trade were collected by the Benoits who funded their large country estate while the rest of the village barely scraped by each winter. And the winters were only getting colder. As for Julius, well, I’d already met him. If his thrashing of me was any indication, then Alexandre’s parenting left a lot to be desired.

            “What about his mustache?” I asked her.

            “He thinks it makes him appear powerful,” she said, laughing drily. “But he just looks like a fool. But don’t tell him that. I made that mistake a few times too.” I shuddered at whatever that meant.

            Night had finally fallen. The candlelight barely illuminated our faces. We all appeared ghoulish, the planes of our faces lit in uncanny angles. We resembled the facial studies I had drawn again and again in Duchanne’s studio, drawing a model head lit in unnatural ways.

            “And what about that statue in the center square?” Connie asked, setting aside his bowl. “I’ve never seen anything like that before, even in the city.”

            “It’s a marker from the family that used to rule these lands, carved from stone no normal tool can cut.”

            “These so-called conjurers, as you put it.” August said skeptically.

            “Actual conjurers,” Elaine said assuredly. “All of the old stories are real, don’t you know. Wizards, witches, magicians, warlocks. They’re not all ghost stories or fables. There was a castle here and a family who ruled this place, but then the curse came. Now we all live in squalor.” Loud howling sounded outside the walls like a siren’s call. Caesar clung to Camille’s shirt, and she rocked him gently.

            “What exactly caused this curse?” Mother asked.

            Elaine shrugged. “Grandma can’t remember. And everyone who did know is gone or dead. But she knows for certain that there’s something in the castle that’s been waiting for all these years. Some folks think it’s just an empty castle out there. Others think there’s something else living in those woods.”

            “A witch, perhaps?” I asked, barely containing my fear.

            “A monster,” Elaine replied, her voice low.

We all watched outside the window for something to emerge from the dark, but nothing came.

Author's Note

Posting another chapter because why not.

Reviews

[SweetNutmeg]

Things are unfolding very nicely. You've managed to give us what we need quite skillfully. Cleaning a house and fetching firewood could be dull, but you made it interesting and increased my investment in the characters. And again, you gave us enough description for vivid images, but did not fall into purple prose. I'm enjoying the progression of the story.

I did notice a few minor errors.

"Another simple task but all accounts, but very satisfying in its way."
I think you mean BY all accounts, not BUT all accounts.

"I wondered what Camille was up in there."
I think you mean what Camille was up TO in there

"August sat uncomfortably on a stool by a candle reading."
Without a comma between the words candle and reading, this sentence is a little odd.

Otherwise, very tight, error free writing. I bless you for the excellent grammar. It's a real relief. And you know how to punctuate dialogue! High caliber writing is hard to find. I'm very glad you continued posting despite no reviews.

I'm looking forward to the next chapter!