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La Tourmenteuse: L'histoire d'une femme Written by Helen Dunbar, 2016

La Tourmenteuse : L'histoire d'une femme

My name is Claudette de Rouen.

I was born in 1632.

I am 'La Tourmenteuse'.

This is the story of my life, work and loves in the service of my king.

Chapter 1:

It is difficult to say how I came by my profession. Was it by chance? By sheer fate? By the movement of the stars? Or perhaps by means far more contrived? I am still unsure.

I was born in Rouen, capital of Normandy. My mother was Elspeth Leighton of York, England; my father was Armand de Rouen, an accomplished scientist, mathematician and cartographer in the service of Ann of Austria and the French court.

After a brief but catastrophic illness, my mother died when I was 8 years old, leaving my father and I alone. For two weeks I had sat by her bedside as her body was wracked with pain and torment. My small child's hands wiped the sweat that oozed from every part of her body; collected the hair that fell daily from her head; moistened her dry cracked lips with a dampened cloth; prayed to the only God that I knew not to take her from us. My father worked feverishly from dawn 'til dusk to seek a concoction that would cure her ills, that would keep her living, if only for a brief time…but his travails were without success… and a dark foreboding shadow fell across us.

The morning that my mother died it was as if the joy had truly gone from our lives; I firmly believe that my father also died upon that day…only his mortal body remained in motion like a mannequin kept alive by some unknown sinister force.

While my mother lived she had sought to raise me as a miniature version of herself, though I had none of her natural charm or grace. She had dressed me as a pretty young girl, when in reality it was clear to all that I was not such a creature. With her gone I was free to do as I wished, and my father did not seek to curtail my behaviour. He focused his mind upon his work, travelling from Rouen to Paris frequently, often

leaving me alone with only a maidservant to keep me clothed and to see that I did not starve.

As I grew and matured I became a tall, rounded and ungainly creature, squeezed into masculine clothing to hide my discomfort at not being the young woman that I felt I was meant to be. It worried me not, despite some occasional misgivings at having betrayed my mother's wishes. I had a lively and enquiring mind, and I devoured my father's scientific books avidly. I could read in English, French and Latin, and as my intellect developed my father began to notice me once more, and he encouraged my studies. I think, in some way, I had begun to become the son that he was never to have. This seemed to please him and, in pleasing him, it also pleased me.

In the high summer of 1646 my father was called to the royal hunting lodge at Versailles. His skills were needed to interpret some papers. I did not quite understand how such a task came within the remit of his employ, but what did I know?

I was by then 15, virtually an adult, and my father decided that I should accompany him on his journey. It would be 'an adventure', he said. Looking back, I believe he took me with him in the hope that I would be dazzled by the pretty young women that flittered around the royal family, and would perhaps choose to change my unfeminine appearance in order to enhance my possibilities of finding a future husband.

Whilst my father worked with the court advisors, I was kept in the charge of the housekeeper, Mariette. She grabbed me by the shoulders, turning me round and round, exclaiming, 'What an unusual creature you are!'. Needless to say, I did not warm to her and spent as many hours as I possibly could outside in the woods, listening to the gentle winds rustling the thick covering of leaves above me; feeling the warm sunshine on my face; and watching the creatures of the forest going about their business.

One afternoon, with a light heart and my stomach full of Mariette's vegetable stew, I took to wandering a little further from the lodge than usual. I could hear a loud rushing of water on my right as I furrowed my own path through the long grasses around me. Suddenly I heard a sound…I stopped…just ahead of me, under a wide thicket, was a vixen and her two cubs, the cubs noisily feeding from their mother. I stood as a statue watching them, taking in the warmth of her maternal care and love with a smile. How pure and loving and innocent they were!

In an instant, however, the blissful silence was shattered. A dog's loud barking; a boy's shout…I was frozen to the spot as I saw a large brown dog break from the cover of the bushes far to my left and race towards the vixen. I could see only aggression in its eyes, its mouth open, panting and slavering. Life returned to my limbs and I threw myself towards the space between the dog and the vixen, to block its path in any way that I could. As my body sheltered the vixen the dog's teeth sank into my lower leg viciously and I could feel it attempting to shake its head and tear at my skin. I cried out in pain. Then I heard a boy shouting, but he was not shouting at the dog…he was shouting at me! I felt his weight as he jumped upon my back, pummelling heavily at my head and neck with his small hands. I just wanted to keep the vixen safe from harm.

Then in a second the weight was gone; the dog's teeth released from my leg…what seemed like an hour of pain had ceased in that one second. I turned, squinting my eyes against the dappled sunlight, fighting to keep the tears from spilling down my face. I saw a tall stern-faced man looming above me, long grey hair, dressed in black; he had the dog's collar tight in one hand and the wriggling boy's collar in the other. I recognised his uniformly designed jacket; he was a valet…a personal valet to the young king, 8-year old Louis.

That evening my father was beside himself. What had I been thinking? Did I know what effects my actions may cause? How could I have been so foolish? I had shamed him! But, despite his anger, he was still my father…and his concern soon turned to tending the deep wound on my leg; the scars from which I still bear to this day. I was wounded, yes, but completely unbowed. I could not let that innocent creature be torn to pieces in front of my eyes, it was inhumane…totally abhorrent…I did not care that the boy Louis was soon to be my king and master.

It was on that day that I settled in my own mind that pain and suffering should be inflicted only upon the guilty, not the innocent. It gave me great (but secret!) pleasure when I heard that young Louis had been punished severely for attacking me, a mere girl. For, as a girl, I was seen by Louis' guardians to be defenceless and in need of their protection.

How wrong they were!