And so it was that Madeleine of Rouen came to give birth to the duke's illegitimate son. The duchess (who was busy with having affairs or her own with much younger men) did not even notice that yet another of their young, pretty servant girls was with child. You see, this was not exactly rare in the duchess's household. It was no secret that the duke and his wife were not on the most friendly of terms. They had not even one child to show for their marriage. It was whispered that the duke and duchess had coupled only once – their wedding night as a mere formality
Madeline, however, was panicked. Briefly, she thought of ridding herself of the pregnancy, but, deeply religious, decided that there must be a reason God had given her this child. And so she felt a mix of dread and joy as she felt the child stir within her. As her ninth month drew near, the elderly matron housekeeper, shooed her out of the house and sent her to live in a small isolated cottage on the very edge of Rouen, for even though the child was illegitimate, the duke had found it in his heart to provide for his offspring.
God and the Devil watched with rapt attention as the child was finally pushed into the world in that lone cottage. God's face paled as he saw the Devil's handiwork. It was indeed the ugliest thing to ever be pushed out of any womb alive or dead. It did not even have a nose. He had thought the devil would maybe make a man with too small of eyes or uncontrollable warts, but this was so much worse. The devil had woven death into the skin of this child. But then it opened its mouth and the purest cry emanated from that toothless cavern. The angels stopped their hosannas to stare at the new voice in awe. God smiled. This would surely make up for the child's lack of… well, a nose for starters. Both God and the Devil felt a surge of confidence that each of their work was superior to the other's.
But Madeline looked on the face of her new babe with horror. She decided that this babe must be a punishment from God but even to kill it out of mercy would be to great a sin. And so, with great disgust, she brought the child to suckle at her breast. She covered its face so that she would not have to look at the corpse that now drank from her. She considered her sin of laying with the duke – a married man. Maybe this child was her punishment for this adultery. God and the Devil watched as every time she fed the babe, she had to pause, to stop herself from purging.
There were no visitor's to Madeline's cottage in the forest. Rumors had spread that the former maid had given birth to a demon. Conversations quieted as Madeline passed by in town to buy food. Every time she returned to the cottage, her eyes were wet from tears, for isolation is the worst punishment that man can inflict on his fellow man.
Time passed and the child grew. Madeline neglected to give him a name as if a name would make him more real – more human. God watched with dismay as the child was isolated and abused. Surely His humans had more compassion than this. His heart broke a little more with each passing day.
In the boy's seventh year, he was reading one of Madeline's books of fairy tales and looked up at her and asked, "Madeline (for he was not allowed to call her mother), why are the step-sisters ugly?"
"Because they are villains. They are evil. That is why they are ugly. Evil things are always ugly."
"Does that mean I am a villain?" his sweet boyish voice asked.
"Shut up!" She ripped the book from his hands and smacked him across the face so hard that his mask flew off into the corner. "Pick it up!" she screeched pointing at the mask. "You are never to go without your mask, you know that!"
The boy scurried over to the corner and snatched the mask up and ran off to his room in hopes to escape a further beating.
The Devil grinned. "See? Even his own mother is convinced that he is an unlovable villain."
God grimaced. He could not argue this point. With all the love that he had instilled in motherhood, it was not enough to overlook this poor boy's face.
The crops were bad the boy's fifth year. No rain had fallen that summer and the weak seedlings wilted and died under the harsh sun. The villagers grew thinner. The priest began looking for something to blame the drought on that would renew the people's faith and reinvigorate his coffers. He remembered the sad product of Madeline's infidelity and started to preach against the boy. Sermons rang out about the evils that devils brought to the village. The people, thus incited, grabbed their pitchforks and torches that very night and marched to the small cottage amongst the trees.
The house caught fire as the dry beams burned like tinder. The boy had been out one of his nighttime explorations and watched with horror as yellow and orange tongues of flame consumed the house. Madeline's screams came from within the house as the fire ate away at her as well. Villagers circled the house making sure that nothing escaped the fire's wrath. The boy choked on tears as he ran from the cottage as quickly as he could, knowing in some deep recess of his mind that his life now depended on the swiftness of his feet.
Tears ran down God's face as he watched the boy flee. They salted the earth there. Nothing grows there – even now after so many years. It is a desolate place now – a shadow of its former self.
The dismal gray light of dawn found the boy exhausted, his tears spent and his small form drenched in the previous night's rain. He wearily looked around and found an old oak tree with a small cavern at its base. He crawled in and covered himself with bark, praying that the villagers would not find him there.
He did not remember how long he had slept, just that when he awoke, he felt warm, yet shivers were racking his thin body. He crawled out of his hiding place and was met with the dimming light of the setting sun. He crawled only a little ways out of the tree and then passed out again, sprawled out on the forest floor. He could not even move to hide again as a man gathering firewood approached. The man nearly tripped over the small boy. He turned him over and tilted his head in confusion over the small cloth mask that covered the boy's face. He pried it from he boy's face and then promptly vomited. If he had not felt the heat emanating from the boy's skin, he would have thought him dead for at least a few weeks. But no – the boy's chest rose and fell.
God and the Devil watched in anticipation as the man grabbed the small boy and tossed him over his shoulder like the firewood he had been carrying earlier. Neither wanted their bet to finish so quickly. Surely seven years was not enough to satisfactorily prove the other wrong.
The man approached a gypsy camp and brought the child to the matriarch. "What have ye brought me now, Joseph? Better be good..."
"With respect, I present our newest attraction to our humble traveling fair." he uncovered the child's face.
The matriarch, unfazed, stared impatiently at Joseph. "That is a corpse. Get it out of my tent before it starts to stink."
"But he is not dead. See – his chest rises and falls. He is merely ill."
The matriarch considered for a moment. "It lives?"
"Yes! See how he burns with fever. If we could make him well again, then maybe..."
"Yes, he would make a passable addition to my fair… Very well. Take around to the animal cages. I will send the healer." She dismissed Joseph with a wave of her hand.
He hoisted the child up and carried him around to an empty cage. God's relief turned to horror as he realized that the child had merely left one hell for another.
"See how they will help him live, but only for a price?" the Devil pointed out. "Maybe it is good that he is so ugly. If he wasn't of use to them, I think they would've left him to die, and then where would we be?"
True to the matriarch's words, an old woman hobbled towards the cage, threadbare satchel and smooth, worn walking stick. Joseph stepped away from the cage, not wishing to get in the way of the ornery old lady.
"You pick up another stray dog, eh?"
"No, ma'am I -"
"Ach! No good. This one's already dead. You blind, boy?"
"No. He's not dead yet. Look closer," Joseph dragged the boy closer.
The matron poked at the boy with her stick. He moaned. Her eyebrows raised. "Bloody hell, he's not..." She opened the satchel and pulled out small jars of foul-smelling powders and goops. A bowl was produced and she started crumbling leaves here, adding a drop of liquid there and old pestle crushed and mixed the strange soup. She muttered irritably over the mixture, looking up at the boy now and then. Lastly, she took a flask from her hip, drank half of it and poured the other half into the bowl.
"Hold 'im. This won't taste pleasant," she chuckled darkly.
Joseph held the boy up and opened his mouth. The old lady poured the mixture down the boy's throat. The boy's eyes shot open and he started to struggle.
"Now, now. All of it."
Joseph held the boy as she finished feeding him the stinking, black mess. As soon as she finished, he passed out yet again.
"Now. Give 'im a blanket and I'll be back in the morning." She poked the boy with her walking stick again and stalked off. Joseph slank off to his own nearby tent and grabbed a holey, moth-eaten blanket. He tossed over the little boy's form and shuffled off in search of a new bottle of gin.
God looked with pity down on the boy's shivering form and summoned the angel Raphael. "Raphael, O angel of healing, go down there to the gypsy camp. Give him this," he plucked out a small green vial out of his jacket pocket. "This will insure his healing from now on. He will heal faster." He looked over to Lucifer. "This will not be against the rules, right?"
Lucifer shrugged. "On the contrary. I think it is an excellent idea. I think he will need it in the future. I would hate for our project to die from something other than natural causes. I want my victory to be clear." He reclined on a darkening storm cloud.
"Go with speed then, Raphael." The archangel nodded and took wing, and flew swiftly down to the unconscious child. Gently humming, Raphael sat next the boy and gently laid his head on his lap. He uncorked he liquid and gently poured it into the boys mouth, helping him swallow. The boy opened his eyes weakly and squinted up at Raphael. "Angel?" he asked.
"Hush now, and sleep child," Raphael answered.
The child's eyes drifted closed and he slept with a deep peace.
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Ah… my dear readers. I feel I must apologize for the wait. Electricity has been pretty shady here. I think after this chapter, I will have to up the rating. I'm still not sure if it'll be T or M – I need to check the guidelines. Probably M. Erik's life is not warm and loving. In all of the versions f POTO that I've come across, it is anything but gentle. So, the rating will go up.
Please leave me a review. I love to read your thoughts on this story.
Love from Tanzania,
Raven Sharpe
Posted 11/08/2015
