By Cele Elensar
Author's Note: This story has been entirely created from the depths of my mind. It was inspired by various books that can possibly be discovered within the context of the story, such as the character's personality and events that unfold throughout the story. For this reason I believe you can consider it a relative to fanfiction because there are other facts that are inspired by stories already written. However, ideas and plots were organized in a fashion I created myself. Please, out of consideration do not borrow or take anything from this story unless you contact myself and ask.
Summary: One tale is shared to audiences all around the world about two lovers who receive a fate resulting from love. A Bard, a storyteller, gives a responsibility to the audience in which he tells his tale, to form a decision at the end: If the tale is true, or not. The Bard, having no particular name, tells of a beautiful, innocent, little girl growing up and the adventures that unfold one after each other in a rapid pace. This mysterious Bard, who comes out from the shadows at night and joins pilgrims traveling the dusty roads of Europe, tells only one tale. One tale that has become infamous throughout the continent of Europe and both the story itself and the teller have a mysterious quality about them.
"Once upon a time, like all stories begin, takes us back to a time when stories are plagued with innocence. A time when stories are created for the entertainment, and are considered make believe. But must all stories that begin with 'Once upon a time' be fictional? Is there a chance that, once in time, there was a tale that lived true? It is fact that some stories can be true and begin with such words that spark the world's imagination. I, your Bard, will tell you a tale that begins with such delicate words. However, you must come to the terms at the end of my tale if these things I tell you are true, or not. For it is up to the listener to make this vital decision." The Bard stood; all eyes were now fixed on him. A true teller of tales knows how to capture his audience.
"I begin with Once upon a time, in land not home to us, in the land of France. For, if you were a true traveler you would have traveled amongst these people. In La Bretagne where the forests are thick, in Fougères, people dwell. These people are honest and true. They work and slave away each day to bring good harvests in the fall." As the Bard speaks, he circles around the fire; the light plays across his face. The Bard is not a stereotypical storyteller. He is a mystery. One day he appears out of nowhere. All he is known by is "The Bard", and for the mask he wears. No name, no history. Just one man who travels by foot summoning all those willing to listen to his tale. His one tale.
Amelie ran into her father's arms, "Papa!"
Guillaume Beauvais picks up his six-year-old daughter, swinging her in a big circle. "Ma petite Amelie!"
Her giggles ran thickly through the air. "You're home, you're home!"
"Oui, ma petite Amelie. I am home." He kisses her on the cheek before setting her down.
"I missed you. You have been gone far too long Papa." Amelie grabs her father's hand leads him into their manor. Guillaume Beauvais is a merchant and highly respectful man in Fougères, Bretagne. For the past six years, since Amelie was born, Guillaume's business has been increasing, and often he is away from home.
"Maman! Papa is home! He is home!" Amelie runs into the parlor where her mother sits.
"My dear Amelie, you mustn't raise you voice so." Alienor rises from where she sits and approaches her husband. "My darling husband, welcome home."
"It is so good to be home at last." He kisses his wife tenderly.
"Papa where are we going?" Philipe crawls next to his father onto their wagon.
"We going to a new home now. I found a job as stableman for a merchant in Fougères." Armande De Changey rubs his hand in his son's hair.
"But Papa, I like it here. I like Rennes. I don't want to leave."
"Son," M. De Changey turns to Philipe. "Philipe, we need the money. Rennes is nice, but Fougères gives us the money we need. I want to make a living for you Philipe. I want to send you to school, give you a nice home. I promised your mother. I can't do that in Rennes."
"But Papa," Philipe looks at his father, an urge to pout coming over him.
"No buts about it Philipe. We are going, now hold on tight." Armande gave a pull on the reigns.
Six years pass"Amelie!" M. Beauvais calls to his daughter from the back porch of their manor. "Amelie!"
"Oui Papa?" Amelie responds from the stable.
"I am going into town with Maman. You stay here with Mme Bonamy."
"Oui Papa, stay safe!"
"Be good ma petite Amelie, we won't be long." M. Beauvais turns and enters the house. M. De Changey comes from the stables leading the horse drawn carriage. "Philipe, you be good as well."
"Oui papa," he moans as he walks up next to Amelie. They stand at the door of the stables as M. De Changey pulls the wagon and its horses around the manor towards the front. "Au Revoir M. De Changey," Amelie waves.
"Come Amelie. Let's play." Philipe takes Amelie by the hand and leads her into the forest.
"Philipe. I am too tired. I do not feel like playing."
"Come on Amelie!" Philipe pulls the reluctant girl behind him. He leads her to their favorite spot, a large tree that lays an edge of a pond.
"Philipe! Please, I don't want to play." Amelie is given her hand back.
"Then what do you want to do?"
"I don't know. Tell me a story."
"Again? Amelie! I always have to tell you a story."
"I know, because you are so good at it. Please Philipe? Tell me a story?" Amelie sits on a large root and looks at him. "Philipe!"
"All right, once upon a time, there was a princess." Philipe says, digging into the sand with his shoe, thinking.
"Philipe, you tell too many stories beginning like that. I don't want a princess. Start again."
"Amelie!"
"Philipe, a stable-boy."
"Fine princess. Once upon a time there was a stable-boy." "That's better." "A stable-boy who worked for a merchant, a kind merchant." Philipe sits next to Amelie. "And this stable-boy that worked for this kind merchant, had a good friend. Her name was Amelie. She was smart, pretty, and made this stable-boy always tell stories."
"Philipe!" Amelie giggles. "Okay so the stable-boy has a good friend, Amelie…"
"Amelie don't interrupt!"
"Je suis désolée. Go on."
"So this stable-boy has a good friend named Amelie." Philipe edges closer to Amelie.
"Philipe?" She turns and looks at him, her lips running into his. A second goes by, "Philipe!" Amelie jumps up from where she sat. "Je suis désolée," she backs away.
"No, Amelie, I am sorry. I…I…" He looks down at his shoes, and silently curses at himself. An awkward moment passes, the two children silent and surprised.
"Well, I better finish what Papa wants me to do." Philipe rushes past Amelie.
"Philipe!" She grabs his hand.
"Amelie, I am sorry."
"No Philipe, it is okay. You know," she walks up to him, still grasping his hand. "You tell great stories."
"Really Amelie?"
"Really, and you mustn't forget it. Promise me. Promise me Philipe that you will always tell your stories." Amelie looks at him, her small hand inside his.
"I promise Amelie, for you I promise."
Four more years into the future
Amelie walks into the bedroom carrying a large bowl full of water and a rag. Her tears slip from her eyes for she is mournful. "Papa, I have brought you some more water."
"Bien ma petite Amelie," her father responds, his voice is soft.
"Is Maman getting better?"
"I am afraid I don't know ma petite. She is sleeping now." M. Beauvais takes the water from his daughter. "This will help cool her fever."
"M. De Changey is the same. Philipe is with him now, but Papa, I am afraid. I am afraid that Maman and M. De Changey won't make it. This fever is spreading through town. I sent Mme Bonamy home this morning, because her little one has it also."
"Ma petite I know you are afraid, as am I, but you must be strong. Pray for Maman, and M. De Changey. That is all we can do now. Pray that God is merciful and let's us keep them a little longer." M. Beauvais looks back at his sleeping wife. She looks so peaceful. The fever brought a soft glow to her cheeks, a glow that left her long ago in their youth.
"Papa, I will make you something to eat, and you and Philipe must rest. I'll look after them for awhile until you are up again."
"Merci ma petite."
Amelie turns and slowly walk from the room and down to the kitchen. She prepares two plates of the bread that she and her mother baked the day before, before both she and M. De Changey fell into a fitful fever. On two trays, Amelie sets a plate full of bread and cheese, two strips of salted pork, and two glasses full of wine. She carries them to her room and the guest bedroom where Mme Bonamy would sleep when she stayed late. After the rooms were set, Amelie walks back to Philipe.
"Philipe, I have made you something to eat. Please, you must rest." She walks up behind him and sets her hand on his shoulder. He was slumped against the bed, having fallen asleep with his father's hand in his.
"Amelie?" His eyes flutter open; he had not realized he fell asleep.
"Come on Philipe. I'll look after your Papa when I see that you have had something to eat."
She helps her friend stand and leads him into her room. "Eat, and sleep in my bed for now. You are much too tired to carry on like this."
"Merci mon amie."
"De rien Philipe, now rest." She shuts the door to her room, and retreats upstairs to her father. "Papa. I have prepared you something to eat, go, I'll watch over Maman."
"Are you sure? You must be tired and hungry as well. We have all been up since yesterday."
"No, I am fine. You and Philipe can break me when you both are full and rested."
M. Beauvais gave his wife one lasting kiss, before he left the room. "Merci ma petite…" He waves to her as he leaves the room.
"Your food is in Mme Bonamy's room. Go rest Papa." Hearing her father's steps soften, Amelie turns to her mother, tears still slipping down her face. "Oh Maman…" She cries softly, bending over her mother as she weeps.
"My Amelie, don't cry…" Alienor Beauvais whispers to her daughter.
"Maman? Maman you are awake!" Amelie rises, smiling at her mother. "We were afraid you might not wake up."
"I have, but my dear, I am afraid it won't be for long."
"What do you mean Maman?" Amelie stops wiping her tears away and grasps her mother's hand.
"Ma petite Amelie," Her eyes are filling with tears, "This is a sign that God wants me to come home…"
"Maman! Non, you will get better. Don't speak like that."
"Mon amour I must go. Just remember that I will always love you, and I will always be in your heart. And never think that you are unworthy of anything. Mon Amelie, you are beginning to grow into a fine young woman. Marry happily, and remember, I am always…" She took a sharp breath, "I am always with you."
Amelie begins to cry heavily, "Non, non, Maman! You will be well again. Please Maman, don't leave me. Don't leave Papa!"
"Amelie, shhh, I am not leaving you. I promise I will always be with you…" She closes her eyes, her breathing slows.
"Papa!" Amelie calls, "Papa!" Immediately Amelie can hear her father's footsteps come her way, as well as Philipe's. "Maman, please, please don't leave us. I love you Maman!" She leans over her mother.
"Amelie? Alienor?" M. Beauvais runs into the room, Philipe following. "Alienor!" He runs to his wife's side, her last breath leaving her. "Mon amour…" He calls to her, holding onto her limp body. "Mon Alienor, mon amour…"
"Papa!" Philipe turns from the room and runs downstairs to his father's side, finding, his father too had died. Philipe had missed him. "Papa! Non Papa!" Philipe lies by his father, weeping. The Beauvais manor was full of tears that evening, and the remaining days after.
Two years pass"Here we are!" Guillaume steps from the carriage. "We are home."
"Oh it is so beautiful!" responds a thin, pale, creature by the name of Fayme Beauvais, the new Madame Beauvais.
"I knew you'd like it. Let me find my daughter Amelie, she has been dying to meet you." Guillaume lifts his hand to his new wife, helping her down from the carriage. "There is plenty of space for our new family," he smiles to the two girls sitting in the back of the carriage, "Petunia! Magnolia!"
"Oui M. Beauvais," They say in unison.
"Non, non, non. You can call me Papa now. I know it has been a long time since you girls have called anyone Papa, but I will be honored if you would think of me as one." Guillaume smiles as he helps the two girls from the carriage. They were both Amelie's age, and unmarried. "Now, let me find Amelie, and Philipe." He turns away from the girls and his new wife, "Amelie! Philipe! I am home!"
"Papa?" Amelie calls as she and Philipe run from the stables. "Papa, I am so glad you are home!" She runs into his arms, giving him a huge hug.
"Bonjour M. Beauvais, we have been waiting for your return." Philipe approaches.
"Merci Philipe. Now, ma petite Amelie, I have brought you a gift," he says as he steps aside for Amelie to notice her new family, "Amelie, this is Fayme and her two daughters Petunia and Magnolia."
Amelie smiles warmly. "Welcome! Papa has spoken highly of you," she curtsies and approaches Fayme with a warm smile.
"Oui, your father has spoken highly of you as well." Fayme Beauvais extends her right hand for Amelie to kiss. Amelie does so. "And these are my daughters." She extends her left hand to them.
"Bonjour!" Amelie curtsies for them as well. "It will be nice to have girls around here once again." She smiles. However, the two girls where looking quite warmly towards Philipe and did not hear a word Amelie spoke. Amelie notices and starts to giggle. "Oh, forgive me for my manners. Petunia, Magnolia, this is my dear friend Philipe De Changey. He takes care of anything that we ask him to."
"Oh it is a pleasure to meet you Monsieur De Changey." The two girls replied in unison.
"Um, it is a pleasure to meet you too." Philipe rubs his hands against his britches before reaching it to the girls, kissing each of theirs.
"Well, now that we have all been aquatinted, Philipe would you mind taking the carriage to the stables?"
"Non Monsieur."
"And Amelie join me and the girls with preparing dinner." He stands next to his new wife and allows her to wrap her arm around his. "You must be famished my dear."
"Papa, I have already begun dinner, I expected you would be home today. A nice roasted chicken with potatoes and a salad made from vegetables Philipe and I have grown this summer."
"Well then everything is well. I will set the table if you go fetch M. De Changey to join us." He winks at Amelie, before turning and ushers everyone inside.
"Oui Papa, I shall." She smiles, and walks down towards the stables.
The family ate together that night, laughing, and giggling to the tales M. Beauvais had to tell of his journey to Paris. That is where he met Madame Fayme and her daughters. M. Beauvais was stationed in Paris for 6 months to do some inspection on furniture that arrived from England. While he was there he met his new wife at a ball thrown by a dear friend of his. It was love at first sight, so it seemed, and soon M. Beauvais moved Madame Fayme, Petunia, and Magnolia to Beauvais Manor in Fougères.
"Au revoir ma petite Amelie. Au revoir mon amour Fayme, et au revoir Petunia et Magnolia." M. Beauvais waves to them as he mounts his horse. "I am off to Rennes to handle some affairs. I will be home at the end of this week. Be good, and stay healthy."
"Papa, you mustn't go. Not in your condition." Amelie pleads to her father as she assists him on the horse. Philipe holds the reigns.
"Don't be silly child, I am fine." M. Beauvais insists. "The chest pains that occurred last night have gone away, there is nothing to worry about ma petite Amelie. Now, take care of my new wife and your new sisters. They aren't yet accustom to the manor."
"Oui, Papa."
"Oh, and ma petite Amelie, take care of Philipe as well. Those two have been eyeing him ever since they stepped off that carriage." He gives a sideways glance to Philipe holding the reigns.
"M. Beauvais!" Philipe hears, and is aghast.
"Oui, Papa!" Amelie giggles.
"That's my good girl." He leans over and kisses Amelie on the cheek. "I love you ma petite Amelie."
"I love you too Papa! Au revoir!" Amelie and Philipe step back as M. Beauvais is given the reigns.
"I'll be home at the end of the week!" He calls as he rides towards the gate.
Philipe and Amelie wave as M. Beauvais leaves, however, Madame Fayme and her daughters turn immediately and head back to the manor. Philipe sighs, and turns away from Amelie. "I'll be in the stables…"
"Papa!" Amelie screams.
Philipe turns back; M. Beauvais has fallen from the horse as he passed through the gate.
"Papa!" Amelie and Philipe run as fast as they can towards M. Beauvais. Madame Fayme and her daughters hear Amelie and follow.
"Oh Papa! Papa!" Amelie falls next to her father, rolling him over.
"Ma petite…"
"Papa!"
Philipe moves to M. Beauvais' other side. "Monsieur!" He begins to unbutton M. Beauvais overcoat.
"Ma petite Amelie…" M. Beauvais whispers. "Je suis désolé."
"Non, Papa." Amelie weeps.
"Je t'adore, ma petite Amelie." M. Beauvais takes his last breath, his eyes close shut.
"Papa! Non Papa!" Amelie lies over him, crying. Philipe stops unbuttoning and moves next to Amelie. "Shh, Amelie." He consoles her as Madame Fayme and her daughters approach.
"Mon amour! Guillaume! Non." She moves Amelie aside. "Move you stupid girl." She cries, throwing herself across M. Beauvais body. Philipe grabs Amelie and holds her tightly as everyone mourns over M. Beauvais.
Philipe walks through the front door, and closes it. "Amelie?" He calls softly.
"Oui Philipe?" Amelie calls from the parlor. Philipe follows her voice.
"Amelie, I have a letter that is addressed to your father. A messenger just rode in to deliver it." He hands Amelie the letter when she rises to meet him.
"You should take that to Maman." Petunia and Magnolia stand, for they too were sitting in the parlor.
"I will read it first, and than I will take it to your mother." Amelie's voice tightens, "that is if it concerns her."
Petunia glares. "Maman will be furious with you if you do not bring it to her at once."
"Petunia, please sit down. Amelie will handle this, just read your book." Philipe speaks, but not as harshly as Amelie.
"I warned you."
Amelie turns her back and slowly opens the letter. It is addressed to her father from M. Curtis Delano. "This was the man father was going to visit."
"Well, let's see what it is says."
'Dear M. Beauvais,
I hope you are well. You were to arrive at my home yesterday, and yet you are not here. I would find that the affair in which you were to speak with me about was critical enough that you would not have delayed. Monsieur, you are in debt, 200 francs in debt. That is a grave matter. I have offered you 300 francs for Beauvais Manor, which should be enough to pay off your debts and live conformably with Amelie and your new wife. However, my offer does not dangle in thin air for long. You have five days to contact me, and if you do not, I will take the manor from you by force. You will have no choice then. My patience will not last Monsieur.
Cordially,
M. Curtis Delano'
Amelie nearly faints when she finishes reading the letter.
"Dear God!" Philipe takes the letter from her and reads through it again, carefully to himself.
"M. Beauvais never informed us."
"I never knew! Papa, never told me!" Amelie collapses back into her chair and cries. "What shall we do?"
"I don't know Amelie." Philipe hands Amelie the letter back. "You must tell Madame Fayme, maybe she can help."
Amelie looks towards Petunia and Magnolia, they are pale and as shocked as Amelie. "You are right Philipe. Come with me."
The two leave the parlor and walk up to Madame Fayme's rooms where she lies, ill with grief.
"Madame!" Amelie knocks on door, and wipes her tears.
"Amelie, I am in no mood to speak with anyone today." A soft whine comes from the other side of the door.
"Madame, this is a grave matter." Amelie opens the door. "I have received a letter from M. Delano, the man whom Papa was on his way to visit. It has devastating news, and I know you may not be in the mood to hear it, but it is important."
"Fine child, bring it here." She snaps. Amelie hands her the letter. Madame Fayme reads it, her eyes widening. "That bloody fool! He lied to me! He said he was rich with money." She curses to herself.
"Excusez-vous?" Amelie asks appalled at what she hears. "What do you mean?"
Madame Fayme turns her angered face at Amelie. "You foolish girl! The only reason your father and I married was because we told each other we had money."
"Dear God!" Amelie brings her hand over her mouth. "My Papa told me he loved you."
"Apparently your Papa lied."
"My Papa never lies!"
"He did. He lied to me as I lied to him." Fayme throws the letter towards Amelie.
"Enough!" Philipe interjects, "What can we do to fix this? If we don't M. Delano will be here to kick us all out of the manor."
"Philipe, I have nothing. Anything my father had for me is gone. If we are in debt that much, then my father must have taken what he stored for me. However that doesn't matter, what matters is that we can't lose our home!" Amelie cries.
"Stop crying you foolish girl!" Madame Fayme screams. "Get out! Get out!"
Philipe is appalled and he pulls Amelie from the room. "Come, we have to think of something, because that witch isn't going to help us." He led Amelie out of the house and to their tree by the pond.
The week after the funeral a man came to visit. Amelie and Philipe have never seen him before. "Boy take my horse." He says sternly to Philipe. Philipe nods and moves the horse to the stable, giving Amelie a questionable glance before he is out of sight.
"Monsieur may I ask who you are and what you are doing on my property?" Amelie asks.
"Madame Fayme?" The man asks in return.
"No, I am Mademoiselle Amelie Beauvais, and this is my father's manor."
"Oh," the man glances at her and then at the property. "I am M. Curtis Delano, I have some business to do with Madame Fayme."
Amelie looks a bit surprised. "I will take you to her." She leads him into the manor and to the parlor where Madame Fayme and her daughters sit.
"Monsieur Curtis Delano, Madame," Amelie stands aside and motions to a chair for M. Delano.
"Oh my dear, welcome to my home." Madame Fayme extends her hand for the gentleman to kiss.
"Oh is it? I was just informed that this is Mlle Beauvais' property." He looks coldly back at Amelie.
"Don't listen to that foolish girl. Now, Monsieur, you have come to finish the business you had with my late husband?"
"Oui, Madame." M. Delano makes himself comfortable in his chair.
"That is good," She looks past M. Delano to Amelie, "Amelie, you may go now. I am finished with you." She waves her hand. Amelie was in no mood to argue. If she wants to keep her home, than she must not argue. Turning, she leaves back outside towards the stable to find Philipe.
"Now to business. I have 100 francs in cash I can give you, that is half the debt. The other 100 can be given by selling the serfs and other artifacts found within this house. Much hold great value that my late husband has been collecting for years."
"That is a good deal, I suppose, but wouldn't you want to sell the manor Madame? I can make you a better deal."
"Non Monsieur. I am getting too old. I cannot keep moving around," she waves casually in the air.
"Who will work the land?"
"Much of this land isn't worked, and what is worked can be done by Amelie and that no good friend of hers."
"Ah, well, you seem to have things worked out. I will be back in a few days to collect my things." M. Delano rises from where he sits. "Au revoir Madame."
"Good day Monsieur!"
M. Delano leaves the manor and walks towards the stable where Amelie and Philipe meet him. "My horse boy." Philipe again nods and fetches the horse.
"It was lovely doing business with Madame Fayme. There will be a good deal of change for the Beauvais Manor."
Philipe arrives with M. Delano horse, and the two watch him leave. "Philipe, I don't like this. Something terrible has just been discussed. Come, let's find out just what." Amelie and Philipe run into the manor. "Madame! What has been discussed?" Amelie calls as she makes her way through the door.
"Amelie! Philipe!" Madame calls them as they enter the parlor. "I am paying the man."
"With what?" Philipe asks her surprised.
"With the money I do have. The rest are things going to be sold from here. Much was collected from your father and since they were his and not anyone else's, they can be sold. As for the serfs, they too will go."
"What serfs?" Amelia asks sternly.
"Don't be stupid child!" Madame Fayme yells.
"Madame!" Philipe says coldly, "There are no serfs at Beauvais Manor. All those that work here are paid and free."
"Well, no longer does that matter. They are going to be sold to M. Delano."
"Madame! You cannot sell free people!"
"I can, and I will."
"What of Philipe?" Amelie asks, stepping closer to him.
"Philipe, you will stay. I need a few hands to keep the grounds going. You and Amelie will work this land and keep it alive."
"And what of yourself?" he asks sternly, not grateful that he can stay. His only reason to stay is Amelie. "Amelie and I alone cannot take care of this land."
"Do not dare speak to me in such a manner. What you two can take care of, will be taken care of, the rest will go to the wild."
"Dear God!" Amelie cries, absolutely appalled she rushes out of the room.
"You wretched woman!" Philipe shouts.
"Careful boy. I can make it so you never step foot on this land and never see Amelie again! I know you love her, now don't be too sure that you can keep her."
Philipe runs from the room after Amelie.
"I can't believe she is doing this! Oh Philipe!" Amelie cries as Philipe approaches her. She sits on the large root coming from their tree by the pond. "It wouldn't make a difference now if the manor was sold or not!"
"That wretched woman should burn in hell for this." He sits next to Amelie.
"Philipe!" She grasps him, sobbing into his shoulder, "what are we going to do?"
"We'll leave."
"What?" Amelie looks up at him with watery eyes and tear stained cheeks.
"We'll leave. We'll leave the manor and these wretched women. Amelie, we'll never get our home back. They have taken it, and they have enough power to keep it. I don't trust any of them. The Beauvais Manor is not ours anymore."
"But where will we go? How will we pay? We have no money Philipe!"
"We'll go anywhere, where ever our feet take us Amelie. And we not need to worry about the money. I have all my savings from what your father has paid me, and what my father had left when he died."
"Oh Philipe, you mustn't use that like this."
"Why ever not? Apparently at the rate we are going, I'll never use it. We will be slaves to these people. These people who never knew your father as the honorable man we knew he was. They don't eve know us! I am not going to stay here and let them take everything away from us. Let us leave with what we have, before they take that away from us to."
"Philipe!"
"Non Amelie! We need to go. Say that you'll leave with me. You shouldn't be afraid. I'll take us anywhere, anywhere you want to go. I'll protect you Amelie. You know that. I will always protect you, and guide you. Amelie Beauvais, I love you." This was the first time Philipe ever claimed his love for her. They both knew it; he'd just never proclaimed it till now.
"Philipe," Amelie looks up at him, "oh Philipe take me with you."
Philipe smiles, looking down on Amelie. "Amelie I love you, and I will always protect you. That is if you let me."
"Of course Philipe." They kiss tenderly. The last time they kissed they were mere children sitting in the exact spot, only during happier times.
The Bard looks at his audience; their wide-eyed gaze was upon him. He smiles, the fire was nearly out, and no one had bothered to re-light it, or keep it going. "Amelie was never the same after her Papa's death. Everything changed much for the worst, but I will not depress you with all the details. Just know the brilliant smile that once shown on Amelie's face, was never the same. She was a very unhappy woman until the fateful day she crossed paths with Prince Raoul Audric Beauregard."
"Philipe! I am going to the market, is there anything specifically you'd like me to pick up?" Amelie calls up the stairs. Amelie makes a habit of going for a long walk on her way to the market every day, ever since she and Philipe bought a small cottage a half a mile from town. It helps her to relieve the stress of every day life.
"Non Amelie! There is nothing that I need." Philipe walks towards the door and up to Amelie, kissing her tenderly. "Just don't be too late. You'll have me worried."
"I won't."
Philipe often gets nervous when Amelie lingers in town too long. He was more protective of her now that they were on their own. And even though Amelie promised to be his, she had no wedding band to prove it.
"Au revoir! Remember Amelie, not too long!" Philipe calls after her.
Amelie smiles and sings softly to herself as she wanders into the thick forest that circles around Rennes. This was the town Philipe was born in, and it brought peace to him. It was his home, and it truly felt like home for Amelie as well. A year has passed since they ran away from Beauvais Manor, and no news has reached them of anyone seeking their whereabouts.
The breeze of the summer winds blows through the canopy of the trees, down through the branches, and across Amelie's face. The sound of fast hooves overcomes the sounds of the rustling leaves and Amelie turns looking for where the sounds of horses are coming from. Quickly she decides to move through a thick patch of foliage without realizing that it was exactly in the path of an oncoming horde of men on horses. Amelie screams and darts out of the way in time, the leading horse passes over the exact spot she was standing in just moments before.
"Ouah" Cries the leading man, pulling the reigns on his horse tightly.
"Are you all right?" A man next to him asks, as the group of riding men comes to a stop.
"I am fine, make sure our little fox Boden is all right," Raoul waves his hands to issue to his men he was well, his eyes catching the edge of Amelie's skirt from behind a tree. Quickly he dismounts. "Madame are you all right?" He walks up to her, Amelie was still catching her breath.
"Monsieur I am fine." She says sternly. Amelie was too shocked to be polite. "May I inquire as to why you were traveling in such a manner? Are you running from something or someone?" She looks to the man sternly.
"Why Madame, I am sorry if we scared you." He laughs, "But we are running from nothing and from no one. Just a game." His smile widens.
"What game is that?"
"You have many questions."
"I would like to know what act nearly got me killed."
"You are over reacting, Madame. But if you must know we were chasing our fox."
"Excuse-moi?"
"A fox. Well he isn't really a fox, he is just our fox. Boden!" Raoul calls, laughing at the woman's persistency. A young man comes from the group, weary, and breathing heavily.
"You were chasing this poor boy? What a horrid game!" Amelie walks up to the boy who seems ready to fall where he stands.
"He likes it!"
"I doubt it."
"Are you so sure? Ask him!"
"Monsieur…" Amelie looks down at the boy she holds in her arms, however, she doesn't even finish asking when the young boy shakes his head. "I do as my lord asks Madame."
"Monsieur?"
The young boy looks up at the one standing before him. "Mon prince Madame…"
Raoul smiles. "You see."
Amelie lets the boy stand on his own and then crosses her arms.
"Madame you will bow to Prince Raoul Audric Beauregard." Announces a man sitting on his horse.
"And if I don't?" she challenges them.
Raoul lifts his hands informing the men not to speak, and halting them from moving an inch. "I never knew a woman who would risk her life on words. You better be careful, you could be beheaded for your arrogance."
"I am not arrogant for not bowing to a prince who chases a boy for fun."
"You make it sound like a bad thing," he laughs.
"Oh it is." Amelie, lost for words, bends down to pick up her basket nearly smashed to pieces. Raoul waves his men away and looks carefully at the girl. "Where do you think you're going Madame?"
"Home."
"Home?"
"Oui, home. Now leave me be. You have caused enough trouble already."
"You are angry with me." Raoul follows Amelie who was heading back to her cottage.
"Monsieur!"
"Oui?"
"Why are you following me?" She snaps.
"I am not following you by my own will."
"What? What do you mean?" Amelie stops and turns around, the prince was right in here face.
"I mean that your beauty has captured me, and I am forced against my will to go where you lead me."
"Is that supposed to be flattering?"
"That depends on if you will take it as flattery."
"Leave me alone. It is illegal to stalk a woman."
"I made no such law."
"Well you should."
"Is that a threat?"
"What? You know you are toiling with my mind, now I must go. My husband will be worried," Amelie says quickly, biting her lip. She turns away from the prince and hastens her steps back towards Philipe.
"I am not toiling with you. And why do you lie to me, you have no husband."
"How would you know?"
"Because you wear no ring, and there is no hint that your finger has ever worn one." He quickly grasps her left hand and spins her to face him.
"My husband is too poor to buy me a ring. Our money goes into our land." Amelie responds nervously.
"Your hands are too soft to ever work enough for a serf."
"I am no serf."
"Than what are you?"
"It isn't any of your business."
"This is my country, you are of my people; it is my business."
"Why do you think you are so clever?"
"I never said I was. I just know these things when it comes to a beautiful woman."
"Leave me be!" Amelie tries to pull away, but he pulls her towards him quickly, locking his lips to hers. Amelie tries to struggle out of his grasp, but his kiss is too strong. Her struggle is useless and she melts in his arms. When Raoul does let go, Amelie gasps and steps back. "Philipe!" She turns around and runs, looking back only once at the man who took her heart away.
"She does have a husband?" he asks himself.
"As time passed, Amelie saw more and more of the prince, much to Philipe's chagrin. Her affections continued to grow and in time Philipe realized he was losing her heart. He became moody, withdrawn, and prone to bouts of jealous anger, driving the wedge between them even further in. The fateful day his rage snapped was one he would remember with every breath he took. He'd learned of Amelie's plans to wed Raoul but she'd promised herself to him. He would make her pay for her lies. And so, he sent her to the market before sending a message to her beloved Raoul to come to the cottage. He planned to burn it down with the prince inside. He knew he was right. The jealousy and the fear of loosing her turned him mad!"
Raoul hastens his steps towards the cottage. The letter Amelie sent him sounded urgent and his insides yearned to see her again. Something is up, and he isn't sure what exactly it is, but at the moment, all he wants is to hold Amelie in his arms and kiss her passionately.
Amelie is nearly into the forest when she notices she forgot the money pouch. She was too distracted when leaving the cottage that she forgot almost everything. Philipe for one was acting irritable. He never raised his voice at her, but this morning he was practically shouting for her to leave. For the past month or two Philipe was distant. At moments he seemed so passionate and then the next he would barely touch her. Amelie fears that Philipe might know about her and Raoul, but maybe he didn't. She feels torn between Raoul and Philipe. Philipe was her childhood friend, her sweetheart. But Raoul, even though he was a prince, was charming and easily made her melt. Who was she to love?
Quickly turning back Amelie sees Philipe run into the shed. Hoping that he would not notice her, she walks into the cottage to look for the pouch. She hopes to buy him something special that night, to try to make it up to him. "I have to make up my mind and heart," she says to herself, pulling the sheets off the bed and turning the mattress over. "Come on." Amelie hears Philipe's footsteps and she runs into the closet, in fear that he will find her and yell.
Philipe enters the cottage; moments ago he thought he heard some enter. Believing it was Raoul, Philipe sneaks back out, lighting two pieces of flint and throwing it inside. Prior to his discovery of a trespasser, Philipe and filled the house with oil he bought from the market. In seconds the cottage was in flames. "You will pay! You will pay for taking her away from me!"
Raoul saw smoke rising in the distance, not even a kilometer away. Fearing it was in the direction of Amelie's cottage, Raoul runs. Moments pass and he finds himself glancing dumbfounded at the burning cottage; a man, Philipe, standing there watching it burn.
"Dear God!" Raoul says two steps behind Philipe, watching in amazement at the cottage covered in flames.
Philipe turns amazed at who he sees. A scream inside penetrates the silence of the day and knocks both men back to their sense. Philipe turns, "Amelie!"
First smoke quickly fills the room, seeping into the closet. Amelie becomes alarmed and runs towards the door to her bedroom. Ashes fall from the ceiling, followed by a large beam trapping Amelie inside. Stricken with fear she screams, fire immediately engulfing the cottage. "Help! Philipe!" She cries, choking on the smoke. Falling backwards onto the bed she grabs the sheets and covers herself, limiting the supply of smoke and air. Again she screams, "Philipe! Help me!" The fire is too quick; it rises to the ceiling bringing it down. Amelie screams one last time as the ceiling caves.
"Amelie!" Philipe calls to her, his heart racing with fear. "What have I done?" he says silently. Removing his shirt he covers his face as he dives into the fire. "Amelie?" He calls to her but there is no response. "Amelie! Where are you?" He moves towards their bedroom, ashes falling all around him. Philipe sees a beam blocking the door. "Amelie!" Counting to three he makes a leap over the beam and lands in the bedroom. He finds Amelie, lying motionless upon the floor, the blanket that once covered her face was fallen beside her. "My dear Amelie!" A fallen piece of the ceiling crashes down, smashing into Philipe's face, and creating a large gash from his temple across his check. He cries quickly sweeping her into his arms; her body was limp. Glancing about him he looks for an opening, a thrashing pain in his left temple. Finding the window he attempts to jump through it. The window and wall come crashing to the ground as Philipe slams his body into it. A one-second gap allows him to fall into the grass three feet from the falling cottage. Philipe, grasping Amelie in his arms, watches as the cottage falls into a heap of ash. "Amelie," Philipe turns his attentions to the woman he loves. "Amelie please wake up!" He pushes the loose strands of dark curly hair from her face. Her blood soaks her clothing, the beams that fell had smashed into her delicate frame. "Mon amour, come back to me…" He cries.
"Philipe?" Amelie whispers.
"Amelie!" Philipe rejoices at the faint voice.
Amelie so desperately tries to open her eyes. "Philipe, I am so sorry."
"Oh Amelie it isn't your fault. My jealously of losing you blinded me, and now see what I have done? I am losing you."
"Philipe, shhh, I am sorry for leaving you Philipe…" She takes in a sharp breathe. "I never fully understood your passionate love for me."
"Amelie! Please forgive me."
"I already have, mon amour." Her voice becomes even softer. "Promise me something Philipe."
"What ever it is, please Amelie hold on."
"Promise me that you will always tell your stories."
"I promise Amelie, for you I promise."
"I love you Philipe, I love you. I always have, and always will." Amelie looks at him with her brilliant blue eyes. "I will always be with you, loving you until we meet again."
"Amelie! Oh my sweet Amelie." Philipe clenches her tightly in his arms, kissing her passionately. Amelie takes her last breath, her lips falling limp against Philipe's. "No!" Philipe raises his head, crying to the heavens above. Raoul stands by weeping. Weeping for a love that was never truly his. It was true love that lived within two friends, a passionate bond that drove their love to its end and back. On one promise does this love live on, a promise to tell a tale."
The Bard looks from the ground to his audience. "I have come to the end of my tale. As I said in the beginning, it is up to you to tell if these words were true or not. For it is the listener's choice." The Bard adjusts his mask and clears his throat. "Good night my fair listeners and I pray that love weigh lightly upon your hearts." With that the Bard disappeared into the surrounding darkness, and the audience sat amongst each other in the dark, the Bard's last words still ringing in their ears.