Ch. 6: Flight
Matthew woke with a start, for a moment forgetting where he was. Glancing toward Alfred, he smiled at how content his twin looked. The brothers hadn't slept in a bed since their parents had passed, and Matthew had almost forgotten the comfort of the luxury. He observed the room around him. It was small, but well-kept. Light poured through a window, illuminating the room far more than what the tiny window in the attic had. Noticing Arthur wasn't anywhere to be seen, an uneasy feeling crept into Matthew's stomach. Giving a final glance at Alfred, Matthew quietly got out of the bed and left the room.
Matthew wandered down the stairs of the inn, in search of Arthur. Though there weren't many people on the ground floor, the chatter and laughter was loud enough to unsettle him. He moved past people, unnoticed, until he came upon Arthur speaking with the innkeeper in the corner. Relief flooded into him as he rushed toward the two.
Arthur smiled at Matthew as he approached. "I have good news, my boy," he said, holding up a cloth sack. "This charitable man has offered us some food and drink, as well as clean clothes for our journey."
The innkeeper replied grunted before walking away.
"Not too talkative, though," Arthur added.
Matthew was about to reply when a force barreled into the two, nearly sending them both to the floor.
"Alfred, be careful," Arthur said, motioning toward his leg.
"Sorry," said twin replied, stepping back. "I couldn't find you two." Alfred's cheeks were tinted red and his breathing was a bit frantic.
Matthew stared at his brother, guiltily. "Sorry I should have waked you before leaving you by yourself."
Alfred grinned, "It's fine. It wasn't like I was worried, or anything."
You're an awful liar, Matthew thought, but simply returned his brother's smile.
"You boys had better get changed into more suitable clothes," Arthur said, gesturing toward the boy's dirt-covered plainclothes. "Then we'll be on our way."
"Already?" Both boys whined at once.
"I need to explain the situation to my superiors as soon as possible," Arthur replied, but Matthew detected a hint of regret in his voice. He assumed Arthur would miss the warm bed just as much as he would, and the floor couldn't be too comfortable on his leg, either. "We'll see if we can get directions in Kingstown," he continued. "There should be some British soldiers there that will direct me to where my troops are based."
"What will happen to us when you go back?" Matthew asked.
"Of course I will ask for leave—-can't do much fighting with this injury, now—-and hopefully I'll bring you two back with me to London."
"Will that really work?" Alfred piped up.
"It doesn't sound like a foolproof plan," Matthew added.
"Well, we don't have many options, and I refuse to just send you back to live with that man. I'm confident that the corporal will back me," Arthur said, but added in a slightly darker tone, "I'm not sure about the other officers, but, as long as we can get straight to him, it should be fine." He handed the boys each a fresh pile of clothing. "Now go get changed."
The boys didn't move, offering Arthur an apprehensive look. "I'm sure it will be fine," he repeated. "Off you go."
You don't sound so sure, Matthew thought, but he hoped he was just being overly cautious. He followed his brother back upstairs.
"That was unusually optimistic for Artie, don't you think?" Alfred asked.
"Yeah," Matthew agreed.
The trek to Kingstown was relatively short, especially compared to the hours they spent fleeing Madison in the middle of the night. Matthew made sure to check on Arthur's leg in intervals, despite the external damage being mostly healed. Arthur would refuse medicine for the pain, saying it didn't hurt, but Matthew didn't miss the winces Arthur gave away as they walked, and both twins refused to keep going until he took proper care of himself.
Upon reaching the town, Arthur began asking around the tavern for news about his squad.
"Why are we asking these people? They're not going to know anything," Alfred commented after they had exhausted two taverns' guests and proceeded to the next.
"You'd be surprised how much these people know," Arthur said.
"That's not really an answer," Alfred complained, turning a questioning look toward his brother.
Matthew had his own ideas as to why Arthur was sticking to the tavern, but didn't have any plans of voicing these. He assumed his brother had guessed his thoughts though, as he found himself face-to-face with Al's protruding lower lip and wide eyes.
"Don't pout, Al."
Alfred didn't relent.
With a sigh, Matthew gave in. "He probably doesn't want to ask where anyone will recognize him, or remember him after he's asked them questions." Matthew glanced toward Arthur, as if asking if he was correct.
Arthur smiled. "Exactly, Matthew. We can't have me getting arrested before I appeal to the colonel, now, can we? Very astute."
Matthew felt a bit of pride glow inside him at Arthur's praise.
"I guess that makes sense," Alfred relented.
"Have you heard the news from Madison?"
Arthur grabbed each boy by the hand and dragged them out of sight, hushing them as he leaned forward to listen. Two common people walked down the street talking in loud whispers.
"Apparently two boys were kidnapped by a British soldier," one man said.
"Those lobsters are taking things too far," another said angrily.
"Sh. Don't let them hear you say that. Remember where we are," the first man scolded, glancing around nervously.
"Now, now. Don't be blaming us for this unfortunate situation."
The two jumped as a small group of soldiers in red approached from behind them, seemingly out of nowhere.
"If the kidnapper was a soldier, he sure isn't anymore," one said, a hint of disgust in his voice.
"Probably a deserter," another added.
"Some kid from my own squad fled around the same area. What are you willing to bet it was him?"
Arthur sighed deeply.
"What's wrong, Artie?" Alfred whispered, a bit too loudly for Arthur's liking, but luckily, the group ahead of them didn't appear to have heard.
"It's nothing, Alfred. This whole situation is simply doing wonders for my reputation."
"What's a reputation?" Alfred asked, earning an eyeroll from Matthew, but Arthur had already returned his attention to the group before them.
One colonist nodded vigorously along with the soldiers, while the other glared at the men before them. The former elbowed his stubborn friend, but was to no avail.
A younger soldier raised an eyebrow at the blatant obstinance, and opened his mouth to respond, but was silenced by an older soldier. Instead, the latter said. "Well, a good day to the both of you Sirs."
The other soldiers bade them goodbye as well, a few a bit more reluctant than the rest.
The colonists watched them pass, one a bit relieved while the other kept a resistant scowl.
"And you, as well!"
"Good riddance."
The soldiers walked toward the hiding spot of the trio, and Arthur motioned the boys backwards.
"Hurry along," he said, leading them down an alleyway and toward another street. Arthur was so busy looking behind them, he didn't notice the person in their path until it was too late.
"Arthur look—-"
They crashed.
"Bloody—-" Arthur cut himself off and tried to prevent the boys from falling while attempting to right himself in the process. "Excuse me, Sir… "
Arthur froze.
Matthew glanced at his twin, then back to their guardian. "Arthur?" he asked, his voice quivering.
"What a lovely surprise, meeting mon ami in the Americas."
Arthur said nothing, only glaring at the blond Frenchman before them. This only succeeded in making Matthew more nervous. Who was this man?
Alfred must have sensed the seriousness of the situation as well, as he practically shouted, "Who are you? What do you want?"
"Alfred, not so loud," Arthur muttered.
"I mean no harm," the man said holding up his arms in surrender. "I merely heard that a stranger to this town was searching for his squad and thought I could be of some assistance. I wasn't aware I would run into an old friend. How have you been, Arthur?"
"So much for your plan meaning no one would recognize or remember you, huh, Artie?"
"Not helping, Alfred."
"Alfred? That is a nice name, and yours is?" the man asked.
Alfred moved defensively in front of his brother. "You first."
"C'est pas possible, Arthur. You've turned the children against me already." the man took a step closer, offering an outstretched hand. "I am Francis Bonnefoy. It is a pleasure to meet you Alfred and… ?"
"Matthew," Mattie said, accepting the hand when Arthur didn't make a move to stop the act, and Alfred followed suit.
"Mathieu, that is also a lovely name."
"Hey, Artie. He seems nice, why do you look like he kicked your puppy?" Alfred asked.
"It's a long story, Alfred. I'm afraid we don't have time to chat at the moment; we had better move on."
"But you needed help, did you not?"
Arthur huffed. "We need nothing of the sort."
"But Arthur, we do need—-"
"We don't," Arthur said with finality, walking around Francis.
"I'm not stupide, Arthur. I have heard the rumors from the next town over. It is not difficult to connect the dots. Now, perhaps we will discuss your predicament somewhere a bit less, public?" Francis gestured toward a few people who eyed them as they passed by.
"Fine," Arthur sighed. "Lead the way."
The Bonnefoy residence wasn't in town like Matthew had expected, but about half a mile away, surrounded by green hills and wildflowers.
"You two come from Madison, do you not?"
"Don't ask something you already know the answer to, Frog." Arthur said, but Francis waved a hand dismissively and remained focused on the boys.
"We do!" Alfred nodded. "Your house is really big," he added as an afterthought.
Matthew agreed quietly, taking in the spires and countless windows peering out to a lush garden.
"Merci, Alfred. Hmm, Madison is a small town, but they are known to have strong anti-British sentiment. It surprises me that two young boys who grew up there would trust a British soldier enough to run off with him."
"We both support the revolution," Alfred stated proudly, as Matthew nodded beside him. "But we also like Artie, so we want to stay with him."
"Such a simple response," Francis said, but his voice was warm.
"And what are your views on the revolution?" Arthur asked, carefully.
"That should be obvious, mon ami."
Arthur narrowed his eyes.
"Ne t'inquiète pas. I will not report you, Arthur. I extend an invitation to stay as long as you need."
"I appreciate your hospitality," Arthur said stiffly, which drew a laugh from Francis.
"Je t'en prie. You boys must be hungry. How about I have dinner prepared for you?" Arthur muttered unintelligible words under his breath, but Francis ignored ignored him and bent down so that he was nearer the same height as the boys. "Does that sound alright?"
"Oui, s'il vous plaît," Matthew said.
"Ah, do you speak French, Mathieu?"
"A little. Our mother grew up in Quebec."
"I see, you as well, Alfred?"
"I never picked it up as quickly as Mattie."
Francis turned to a woman in servant's garb. He spoke in fast French, too quick for Matthew's still intermediate level to pick up.
"Why don't you two follow Ms. Ashford. She'll prepare you something while Arthur explains to me exactly what sort of trouble he's gotten himself into," Francis directed them, and the two boys looked to Arthur for approval. When he nodded, they followed Ms. Ashford to a dining room. Matthew's eyes widened at the size of the table and the detailed china spread across it.
Soon, the boys were happily munching on bread. Ms. Ashford brought out small basket of something and black and ovular. Matthew picked one of the curious objects up. It was cold and squishy. Popping one in his mouth, he grinned. It was so sweet!
"Try it, Al!" Matthew said, shoving a few in his brother's hands.
"They're good," Alfred said, eyes wide. "What are they called?"
"Blackberries," Ms. Ashford giggled.
Soon, Arthur and Francis entered the room. Arthur looked a little annoyed, but he didn't seem quite as standoffish toward the Frenchman. Francis still wore a smile and walked with lighthearted strides.
"How would you boys like to stay here with Big Brother Francis while Arthur seeks out his pardon?" Francis announced in a singsong voice.
"You're going to leave?" Alfred asked, his voice a bit fearful.
"Just for a while," Arthur assured him. "My circumstances are delicate, and Francis here has agreed to watch over you while I take care of some matters."
"How long will it take?" Alfred asked.
"Al," Matthew scolded quietly. "Thank you for letting us stay, Mr. Bonnefoy," he said, addressing Francis. He wasn't too fond of the idea, either, but he liked Francis and knew that Arthur's predicament was serious, though he didn't quite understand it.
"You are very welcome, Mathieu. I'm sure Arthur will return as soon as he is able, Alfred. There is no need to worry."
Arthur folded his arms, eyeing Francis warily. "I'm more worried about leaving you two in the hands of this lunatic. Where is Joan? I believe she can be trusted far more than you with their well being."
Francis frowned slightly before offering a sad smile. "She is out, I'm afraid."
"Give her my greetings, then." He glanced outside at the sun looming in the sky. "I'll be taking my leave now, before I lose the chance to catch up with the troops" Arthur said.
"Already?" Alfred gasped.
"Mr. Bonnefoy was kind enough to direct me to my fellow troops," Arthur said, the act of complimenting Francis seeming to make him physically ill. "Why he knew such information, I will never know." Francis smiled knowingly, leaving Matthew to wonder if the man had more up his sleeve than he let on. Catching Mattie's stare, Francis winked, and Matthew could barely suppress a small laugh, both from the Frenchman's playful antics and embarrassment at being caught.
"And I mustn't waste any time. If the colonel isn't there when I arrive, we'll be back to square one," Arthur continued.
Alfred barreled into Arthur, his arms around the man's waste in a tight hug. Arthur held still for a moment before returning it, a soft smile on his face. Matthew watched the display, slightly jealous that Alfred always seemed to be able to move forward with such certainty. Francis snickered under his breath, earning him a sharp glare from Arthur. When Alfred released Arthur, Matthew approached for a hug as well, if more tentatively than Alfred.
"Take care of yourself," Arthur said, before adding, "and your brother, I know he can be a handful."
"I will," Matthew said, smiling up at him.
Sighing, Arthur turned toward Francis. "I know we haven't gotten along well in the past, or now, really, but I hope you know that I do appreciate your help. You didn't have to go out of your way for us."
"I am well aware, but who else would come to your aid if not the beautiful moi?" Francis laughed, but noticing Arthur's serious gaze, he grew solemn. "Do not worry, Alfred and Mathieu will be here waiting happy and healthy when you return."
They walked together to the door, Arthur opening it with one final glance at the twins. "I'll see you soon," he said.
"See you soon," Alfred said with a wave while Matthew nodded.
That night, Matthew sat on a much-too-large bed and stared blankly at the vast room, adorned with portraits and vases. Francis had given each of them separate rooms. Matthew had almost protested, preferring to share with his brother, but Alfred had seemed so excited by the prospect of being in his own room that Matthew couldn't bear to disappoint him. The day had ended uneventfully, with Francis giving them a brief tour of the house and cooking dinner for them himself. Both boys had loved the food and Matthew enjoyed listening to Francis tell stories of his home in France.
"Once our lives are less hectic I will have to show it to you," Francis had said.
Now, Matthew couldn't sleep. His mind kept spinning with the fact that they were practically on the run, and worry gnawed at his stomach when he thought about Arthur. Tiptoeing out of bed, he made his way to his brother's room.
"Al?" Matthew whispered, peeking his head through the door.
Alfred snored lightly, a heavy blanket tucked around him.
Giving up, Matthew closed the door, instead taking to wandering the hallway and gazing at the beautiful painting that adorned the walls.
"Trouble sleeping?"
Matthew jumped.
"Sorry, sorry. I did not mean to startle you," Francis said.
Matthew bit his lip, wondering if Francis would scold him for being out of bed at this time of night.
"Are you worried about Arthur?"
Matthew's eyes widened, but after thinking for a moment he slowly nodded.
"I don't like waiting," Matthew said. "What if something happens to him?"
Francis hummed, staring thoughtfully at the boy. "Do you mind doing me a favor, Mathieu?"
Taken aback by the change in subject, Matthew nodded his response.
"Excellent, follow me."
Matthew followed Francis down the hall and up a flight of stairs. He was led into a small room with a crib in the corner and toys littered across the floor. Reaching into the crib, Francis pulled out a stuffed white bear and handed it to Matthew.
"I need you to take care of him, for me, mon petit Mathieu."
"How come?"
Francis stared at the toy, a smile on his face, but Matthew couldn't read his expression as anything but sad. "His name is Kumajiro. The bear is meant to be taken care of by a child, like yourself, but he has been neglected for over a year now."
"Why is his coat white?" Matthew wondered, admiring the stuffed animal.
"It is a polar bear. They are found up North. You said your mother was from Quebec, yes?"
Matthew nodded.
"My wife, Joan, traveled a bit North of the settlements in that region. She saw one of these creatures and thought that it was beautiful. Of course, when she saw one, they were not considered their own species yet, but that is beside the point." Tears welled in Francis' eyes. "When she found out she was pregnant, she was determined to make this toy for the child herself."
Matthew hugged the bear to his chest, unsure what to say. "Are you sure you want me to have it?"
"It is better than having it collect dust in this room," Francis said, his voice caught in his throat. "But you need to promise me you will take care of him."
"I will," Matthew promised, causing Francis to smile and place a hand on his head.
"Let's get you back to bed, then."
Matthew grabbed Francis' hand while clutching Kumajiro in his other arm. It was the only thing he could think of to comfort the man as he led him back to his room. When they reached the door, Matthew paused. "How did they pass away?" he asked, not turning to face Francis
He was met with silence for a few moments, and began to wonder if Francis had already left.
"Neither made it past the childbirth," he said at last.
"I'm sorry," Matthew said quietly. "Al and my parents passed away."
"Arthur told me as much," Francis replied, his voice scratchy. "I'm sorry."
Matthew turned the knob to his door and shut it softly behind him. Creeping into bed, he clutched the polar bear to his chest.
I'll protect Kumajiro for you, Mr. Bonnefoy, he promised.
AN: Thank you for reading! Apologies if the French is inaccurate, and feel free to let me know if I made any mistakes. Happy belated holidays!