Disclaimer: I have no legal claim or gain to Hellsing, Beauty and the Beast, Dr. Horrible's Singalong Blog, Frozen, or any other works of copyrighted fiction that helped inspire the character growth and interaction in this chapter. I make absolutely NO money on this, so there's nothing to prosecute.
Seras was in a bad place following the accusations. Who could she believe? What could she believe? Seras had no doubt the girls were telling the truth, if their fathers were being truthful about their daughters' claims at all, but she wanted to believe they were mistaken.
But more than that, Seras had spent months with them. She had gotten to know them as people. A few months ago she would have jumped at the chance to join the accusations... but now she just couldn't fully believe they would do it. She knew these men. She just couldn't believe they would hurt a girl like that.
But someone in this situation wasn't being honest. Either the girls were lying about being taken by force, the fathers were lying about the girls being taken against their will or at all (Seras couldn't picture WHAT well-adjusted girl would have anything to do with these disgusting mercenaries if she had better options ahead of her), the Geese were lying about the girls wanting to be with them, or... (It didn't even occur to Seras to think maybe the Geese were, er, exaggerating or fabricating their conquests to impress their buddies.)
Most of the townsfolk, particularly the men, grumbled and griped about the Geese so much it would be easier to count who didn't want them gone. Many a soul passionately declared "something's gotta be done about these mercenaries!"
Could one of them could have...?
It was just too horrible to think about.
Yet, she couldn't stop thinking about it because the local fathers and townsfolk could not stop talking about it. She understood the situation was close to their hearts, but she didn't understand why
It brought up painful memories and feelings she had long wanted to forget, but which kept cropping up time and time again.
As she lay in bed one night, she remembered a song from someone who had been even more bitter and hurt by life than her. She lay on her side as Rip snuggled under the covers, and Seras whispered in a voice hard as ice, "Any fool with half a brain, can see that war brings nothing here but pain. To the point where I don't know if I could make things worse if I throw poison in wells that remain."
"People would just drink snow," Rip said.
Seras turned to glare at her. "Obviously."
"What are you talking about, anyway?" Rip asked, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. "The war is still far away, we've seen no survivors or soldiers. Apart from the Geese en high prices, we would never know..."
"Except we do!" Seras cried, shifting around. "We have villains skulking around after dark, the roads are no longer safe, the girls have been attacked by someone wearing Wild Geese uniforms..."
"If they were attacked at all."
Seras felt a stab. "You of all people should know better than to dismiss a girl's claims!"
When Rip had come forward in the last town, everyone assumed she lied to get attention."
"No, that's not what I mean," Rip said. "I think their fathers have something to gain by claiming it happen."
"Who would expose his daughter through the stigma of defilement?" Seras asked.
"Someone who wants to play a victim, see the Geese gone."
"But Rip, purity is everything to men. If everyone believed she was really hurt, who would want to marry her now? What future could she have?"
"I think you confuse the ideal with the reality, Seras,' Rip said, not unkindly.
Seras drew her mouth into a taut line. This, from the girl that seemed so out of touch that one swore she thought nursery rhymes were reality, and the breaks she took between reading, reciting, singing, and thinking about them as her own breaks from reality.
"People would ideally love girls to be virgins, but they know it's not always the case. Just like how, ideally, husbands and wives never cheat, but adultery is very common. Thievery would never happen, yet people steal everywhere. Children are always quiet en obedient, yet most of them are screaming, dirty, sticky-fingered little devils," Rip grinned.
"Expecting a little girl to be meek while she's spirited is one thing, but most people seem to think a girl changes who she is after... after..."
"Oh Seras, people talk like that, but they rarely put it to practice." She thought, "Maybe it's like that for nobles, and clergymen, since they write all the stories en sermons preaching the importance of chastity. Yet, most common peasants running around, like you and me, know it's not so. Most of us don't even get married because we can't afford it, and many men go with women they know have been around, or even marry one."
"But..."
Rip placed a finger gently on her lips.
"It's not as bad as you think," she whispered.
This cut Seras in a very vulnerable place, and her eyes filled with tears.
"But with the war the way things are..." she sobbed.
"Oh! Oh, oh!" Rip cried, and cradled Seras in her arms. "I forgot..."
"I don't know what to do," Seras sobbed.
"It's all right, it's all right," Rip whispered soothingly, and caressed her hair. "I'm sure it's not as bad as all that. I'm sure the soldiers are out fighting somewhere in a very secluded location, with no villages or women or children for miles around. They fight en kill each other in the name of their glory or religion, en those that want nothing to do are safe en sound."
"But what if they aren't?" Seras sobbed, and leaked tears onto Rip's nightdress.
Rip laughed. "En what if the sky turns to fire? En the dead rise? En the emperor's made of cheese?"
Seras looked at her dubiously.
"See!" Rip grinned.
Seras half-laughed, half-hiccupped, and wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve with embarrassment.
"Seras, you can't control everything that happens," Rip said. "Sometimes terrible things happen out there in the world, far enough away that you can never see or know about it. You can't wrack yourself with guilt every time because you weren't there to stop it."
"Unless I was there, and didn't stop it," Seras grimaced.
"Couldn't stop it," Rip corrected her. "Couldn't. Even though you tried. Even though you did everything in your power to do. In fact," Rip placed a finger under Seras' chin and pulled her up to look in her eyes, "Even though you did better than most could do in your shoes."
Seras pulled away and let the tears flow. "Even though I failed..."
"You gave them a fighting chance!"
"But now they're gone."
"Some of them," Rip agreed.
"Rip, I never saw what happened..."
"Then let's be optimistic en hope they got away, ja?" Rip grinned.
Seras was not convinced. She folded her knees and wrapped her arms around them, like a cold and scared child.
"I wish everything had been different," she confessed.
"As do I," Rip smiled, and flopped down on her side. "But, things happen. All you can do is spin a smile out of them like spinning coarse wool into soft thread."
"But what if there is no good..." Seras began.
"Was?!" Rip exclaimed, and sat up suddenly. "Are you saying there was no good in moving to that poor provincial town?"
"Non..."
"And that there was no good in helping my poor papa out of the snow, or meeting me?"
"I never said that..."
"Or meeting the Wild Geese..."
"Yes," Seras frowned instantly.
"... Who then saved you against the man that would have taken you for a bride by force?"
Seras was silent.
"I wouldn't have met him had I not been there..." she said.
"Nor me!" Rip exclaimed. "So it all evens out!"
Seras smiled. "I wish it was that simple..."
"Then make it that simple!" Rip exclaimed, and scooted closer to Seras.
She didn't have the heart to say anything more.
Taking her silence as a victory, Rip nuzzled her cheek with her own, then went back to sleep.
Seras stayed up long into the night, looking out the window at the full moon.
She remained rather depressed and scared. This winter would contain the fourth anniversary of when she came to France, and it was a time with horrific memories. She wished it would all be over soon. She wished the Wild Geese would fly away, and the snow would melt, and the farmers would stop claiming hurt for their daughters; that highwaymen would stop preying on the roads, and deserters would stop terrorizing civilians as they went by, and scoundrels would stop stealing and hurting in the middle of the night...
As Rip would say: "If wishes were poppies, we'd all be dreaming!"
Yet Seras could not help feeling vaguely ill, or feeling her old scars feeling painful again.
It didn't help the fathers were becoming far more aggressive, and were complaining loudly in the tavern. Seras wished she could tell them to please stop talking about it here! Just because the tavern was a man's place to frequent didn't mean there weren't any women to hear, as Seras and the serving girls were girls and women too, and such topics could be painful for them. She wished they didn't insist on airing their dirty laundry in public - nay, flaunt it in front of everyone.
It got even worse when the men began loudly accusing the Geese. It was hard enough knowing things like this were possibly happening around town and in the battle over near the horizon, and questioning her morals over whether to stand by the men she had grown fond of or stay true to the morals and loyalties she had aligned herself with long ago (to always believe and support a girl who claimed injury from men or soldiers)... and their yelling was just making it worse. It wasn't solving anything and it was just making everyone - the Geese, the patrons, the girls, and even the tavern-keeper upset. They just kept yelling till Seras finally felt compelled to speak.
"Please, control yourselves!" she said earnestly. "Yelling doesn't make it better!"
"You stay out of this, you filthy slut!" the accusing father instantly roared.
"Please sir - I mean, s'il vous plaît monsieur... If you think these men are guilty, wouldn't it be better..."
"I don't think they're guilty, I KNOW they're guilty!"
"We let these filthy curs serve our armies, under our emperor, in our country, and they dare turn against their benefactors?"
One of the Geese took insult to that, then tried to charge forward with his fist raised, but one of his buddies held him back. "Why, you!" he snarled.
The accusing father and his friend, who had gained some followers by this point, made an uproar.
"See!"
"He's just proving our point!"
"This shows he's guilty!"
"THAT'S ENOUGH!" the tavern-keeper bellowed over the patrons, who were talking all at once. "One more word and I'll throw you all out!"
"That's enough, Conan!" Captain Bernadotte yelled over his men. "People are already frightened, I don't need you to make it worse!"
"But, they started it!"
"I started it?! With you...!"
They almost descended into more yelling and fighting. Seras suddenly felt like she really was way over her head, as this was a man's battle and the men were fighting. She was a small weak woman. Yet, still...
"Everyone, please be quiet!" she cried.
When they just kept arguing, she glared.
"EVERYONE, SHUT UP!" she screamed so loudly there was a stunned silence.
"PLEASE, pull yourselves together!" She turned to the accusing father. "Monsieur Bonner, PLEASE. I understand how you're feeling, but you need to keep yourself sorted!"
"As if a filthy little sow-cunt like you could understand what my beautiful daughter was going through."
"Hey, that's our filthy little sow-cunt!" one of the Geese shouted instinctively, stepping forward and pointing his finger with dignity.
One of the other mercenaries face-palmed.
Another one lowered his hand. "Not helping, Burter."
"I know, I realized right after I said it..."
He really had meant to help. He was so fired up in the moment that his mind vaguely registered that the father had insulted Seras. Feeling she was part of their own, he meant to say she was their insert-insult-here to show she was one of them and had support as one of them. Literally not until after he had repeated the insult out loud did he realize just what the man had called her, and what the insult had been implying, and how he did the exact opposite of help by implying the insult was completely true.
Seras sighed. Even when they meant well...
"Look..." she said. "This is about your daughter and..."
"Damned right it's about my daughter!"
"... And the man who hurt her, correct?" Seras continued loudly and clearly, without taking the bait. "Why don't you just sit him down in private and talk to him about it instead of..."
"Because I know he raped my Shoshana!" he yelled loudly, "And I want all to know about it!"
"Everyone in this village already doesn't trust them and locks their doors to them, so what could you hope to gain?!"
"I would expect a question like that from a filthy English Protestant pig-sow," the man sneered.
"Again with the Protestant insults..." Seras thought, with eyes rolling.
"YOU might be all right with opening your doors wide to these filthy mics..."
One of the men cursed in Irish and tried to launch at him, but his buddy again held him back.
"But our daughters are good, chaste, pure girls that would never even dream of being with pigs such as these..."
"Oh, if only he knew," one Smart Alec smirked in back.
"Not helping, Alec," his buddy hissed at him.
"So when these barbarians force their way through our locked doors and rape our little girls... We take offense!"
"Please! I understand much better than you think I do!"
"What? Just because you're a filthy army whore that spreads her legs to every mercenary that would mount you and slobber all over you..."
"SIR!" Seras snapped.
"Doesn't mean my daughters are the exact same way!"
"Sir, I never said that! If you would just listen..."
"To the filthy squealing of a pig-sow like you?" he snapped, "Who would take every soldier she assumes all women would..."
"My mother was raped by men in my father's platoon the night they murdered them both!" Seras yelled, so clearly and poignantly there was a shocked silence. Having gained momentum and seeing a smooth course from the stunned silence, she said, "My father was a man in uniform all my life. His fellows often came to our home for supper, cigarettes, and cards. But not all of them were men of character. Some were loud, drunk, obnoxious. They said vile things to my mother, and leered at me; though I was no taller than your knee. They always came in demanding more: more food, more drink, more ruckus. So my father reported them."
She took a deep breath. "So they came into our home in the middle of the night and killed my father. They ransacked our kitchen, upended our furniture... and they came into my room..." she squeezed her eyes shut. "So my mother offered herself instead, to save me the grief, and they took her and slit her throat."
A flash of terror lit her memory like lightning in the sky. Or did they slit her throat first?
"... So that's how it happened," she said.
Bonner opened his mouth to speak, but Seras cut him off. "So I KNOW how it feels to see a loved one hurt. Believe me I know - my mother is not a third of the women I've seen hurt that way..."
The men thought with horror and dread, There's more?!
They knew of Rip, but who else?!
"But I would NEVER dismiss a girl's pain, nor even put myself in a soldier's bed after all I've seen."
This was too much. As she talked she dripped with cold sweat, shook uncontrollably, stuttered her words, struggled to breathe, and felt the blood drain from her face and pool into her legs. Her senses near her face (sight, sound, smell, thinking) were getting weaker and her legs were feeling hard as iron yet unstable as jelly at the same time. She felt such a strong panic. She had to get out. Get away from here. Go somewhere!
"So," Seras said, turning toward the door before her vision disappeared, "If you want to help your daughter, go home and comfort to her. She needs it more than you throwing her story around to save your own pride."
She was sure that Bonner wanted to respond, but she didn't give him a chance. She had spoken too quickly, loudly, and clearly for him to respond (with an underlying assurance in what she had to say that sliced through his over-compensating bravado like a hot knife through butter), and now darted away too fast for him to get a word in edge-wise.
She practically scrambled for the door and ran out where no one could see her.
When she was outside in the snow, surrounded by empty fields and open sky, she sobbed outright. She scrambled near the wall of the tavern and tried to tuck away behind the pile of firewood where no one could easily see her, or come to gawk at her. She was shaking horribly, and felt the blood drain from her face so violently she felt blind and deaf. Her organs were still functioning, but there was literally not enough blood circulating through them to make them work. She felt like all her blood was in her limbs, so she shook and shuddered violently. She wanted to run, but felt too heavy below and too light atop to move.
This frustration only made her thrash around in the snow, then draw her legs tight against her chest and sob violently.
Captain Bernadotte followed her out to make sure she was okay. He saw her in a crater of snow she had kicked up and .
He wanted to offer her words of comfort, but she rebuked him, "Just go away!" and he realized it was no good.
She was in a place soldiers were not allowed.
Eventually, Seras had to go back to work. No matter what she was feeling, she had to keep it inside as her mum had. It didn't matter if she was hurting inside, people couldn't see it. Her stomach was in knots? They couldn't see her guts through her dress. Her limbs felt shaky? If she kept them still, they would never guess. Her head felt a little vague? If she walked briskly and acted friendly if a bit aloof, they would never know.
The Geese treated her differently, which she couldn't stand. She couldn't stand it.
She didn't know why she was never happy around them. When they acted as loud, drunken, perverted, hungry, and rowdy as those in her past, she hated it and wished they'd stop. Just telling them "Stop it!" never helped. They just thought it was funny; laughed and teased and kept doing it anyway. They only stopped when they knew it was serious (that she really was scared or hurting), and she didn't want them to know it was serious. She didn't want them to know how frightened and vulnerable she felt. It was worse when they knew.
She didn't even believe they would mock, degrade, or persist anymore. She knew if they knew she was hurting, they would stop (or at least ease up, which was the best you could get from some of them), but she didn't want them to know. She didn't know why, but more than their perverted behavior, she feared their sympathy.
So Seras tried to walk and serve briskly that night. She kept her head high, eyes elevated, and her gait steady. She never stopped to chat or look them in the eye. She gave what they wanted and tried to scoot away.
Captain Bernadotte's eye rarely left hers, and she tried to ignore him. She had to ignore him. She felt if she looked him in the eye, she would break down and cry.
"So, was your dad really a soldier?" one of the men asked.
His neighbor smacked him, but he persisted.
"Oh... yes, yes he was," Seras said as she gathered empty plates.
"Shit! After all the shit you gave us for being soldiers!" the snide mercenary exclaimed.
"We're mercenaries, stupid!" one of the others said.
"Duh, I know that, but she doesn't know that," he said. "She called us soldiers at least five times a day, and her own dad is one!"
"WAS one. He was also murdered by his fellows, I hope you know," Seras said with a dark voice.
She didn't turn to look at him, but her entire countenance screamed "Do not go there with me!"
"Carter, just let it go," one of the men said.
"Yeah, but, I mean, come on! If her own dad was a soldier, shouldn't she know we're not all bad..."
"Carter, shut up!"
"My father was murdered by fellow soldiers," she growled in a more decisive tone.
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean we'd do it..."
"Just drop it!" Seras snapped, and every eye in the tavern turned toward her.
She was inches from losing her job at that point, and after the tavern-keeper was finished chewing her out, she glared at the mercenaries (Carter in particular), turned away and went back to her job without smiling or talking to anyone. When she didn't want to talk about something, she didn't want to talk about it. She wished they would just accept it and leave her alone.
After hours, Captain Bernadotte tried to ask if she was all right. Seras tried to rebuke him.
"I don't want to talk about it, Mr. Bernadotte," she said.
"I know, but I just want to make sure you're all right."
"I'm not injured, so clearly I'm all right," she said without turning around or looking at him.
"Some injuries lie deep under the skin," he said.
"And that's where they should stay," Seras said, and she subconsciously held herself with her arms. "Please leave it alone, Mr. Bernadotte."
"And should old wounds remain deep under the bandage, festering and gangrening till it spreads and sickens whole body sick, or exposed to the light of day where you can finally treat it?"
"Mr. Bernadotte, I'm not injured!" Seras exclaimed, "What happened is in the past! It's ancient history. It's behind me. I want to keep it behind me. I spent my whole life trying to keep it behind me. I want to forget!"
"Trust me, Seras," he said with equal intensity, "You will never forget."
Seras was struck dumb, and looked into his eye. The intensity of his gaze, and his countenance, told her he knew exactly what he was talking about; knew exactly what she was going through. His well-aimed arrow pierced the weakness of her crumbling defenses and she hastily retreated. She walked briskly to the back room, her face oddly calm, and she shut the door behind her. Only then did she crumple down and cry.
The Geese watched her go with some apprehension, then looked to their captain as though to ask if that was the right course of action.
Seras was fitful for the next few days. It was too much... too much all in one day.
As soon as she was alone, like so many times since the Geese entered her life, she broke down and wept.
When she lay in bed with Rip that night, she thought again that, "Any fool with half a brain can see that war brings nothing but misery and pain. To the point that I don't know if I could change the way things are if I threw poison in the wells that do remain."
Rip turned her head to hear better what Seras was saying.
Seras was in a dark place, and nearly cried as she sang:
Listen close to everybody's heart
And hear that breaking sound...
Even the Wild Geese were given pause by her sad words and voice as she went around.
Lives and souls are shattering apart
And crashing to the ground...
What kind of future did these girls have if people believed they were no longer virgins? How would the town get on if the war came closer to them?
Seras remembered...
Seras pressed her back against the bed and stared straight up at the ceiling as she said bitterly:
I cannot believe my eyes!
Is the world filled with only war and cries?
But it seems to me the worst in humanity
Is on the rise...
The blasts of cannons and bullets filled her ears like bees in a hive. The sight of soldiers marching, the and the sight of soldiers had put her in a very dark place, and Seras wanted nothing to do with anyone. Once again, she did her job with perfunctory indifference. She brought the men their drinks and food but refused to stop to chat or hear them joke. Not that anyone wanted to joke at this time.
The patrons glared at them, and the Geese felt for the first time they were hated and alone - and they still didn't have their marching orders, damn it! When could they leave this town?!
Rip Van Winkle, however, had gained a kind of hopeful optimism.
Normally very girlish and flamboyant, she had gained an almost wistful cheeriness that Seras and the Wild Geese thought mildly strange. Her new attitude reflected in her dress. While she normally kept her long black hair in tight braids that travelled down her waist, she now took to wearing her hair partially bunned at top, with her long black tresses trailing down her legs. She was as wispy as a willow, and almost swayed dreamily as she walked.
Look around...
We're living with the lost and found
An... interesting description of the Wild Geese, but Seras could accept it. They were, after all, a displaced people. They had been occupied and subjugated in their own homeland, fought for their freedom on the losing side of a civil war, and then followed a king they believed in to this country so they could gain more rights and liberties. Yet, they were outcasts here as well as in the old home. Not fully Irish but not fully French, they were mercenaries who legally served the French monarch but culturally and spiritually felt connected to the old country.
But, Seras herself was also "the lost and found." She had been all alone after her mum and dad were killed. She went along from orphanage to foster home (to work there as a farm hand) to the streets to servants jobs. She rarely stayed in one place too long while growing up. She had to survive almost on her own, and had not known warmth or comfort in so long.
Just when you feel you've almost drowned
You find yourself on solid ground
Rip smiled gently to Seras as she sang. She knew that when Seras first came into this country, she dove into an icy river during winter time to escape a few soldiers that would have taken turns with her otherwise. She had had no choice; she could either fail to out-fight and out-run them, or dive into the icy waters where she knew they would not follow.
She took a chance in the river, even though she could not swim. She had desperatel flailed about in the water. She felt like she would drown, till the pure will to live taught her to half-crawl, half-swim along the river bottom down the bank. She almost saw black till, quite suddenly, her face broke through the water and she heaved herself on solid river bank.
And if you believe there's good in everybody's heart
Keep it safe and sound
Rip gestured to the Wild Geese and smiled gently toward Seras as she sang.
Seras understood what she meant, but her thoughts were still on the medicine woman that found her by the river, shivering and freezing, and saved her life. The woman had been outcasted, hated and feared for being a "witch" despite how she made her living saving people about to die. The woman had taken in a young girl found by the river bank, and asked for nothing in return after it was over.
With hope you can do your part
To turn a life around
Rip gently cupped Seras' cheek with one hand, who in turn smiled warmly and leaned into the touch.
Seras remembered the medicine woman that saved her life. She remembered how Seras herself had helped Rip's father out of the snow after the tavern patrons had literally thrown him out into it, and how she had helped him get home. She remembered how Rip had been so grateful for Seras' kindness toward her father, and how she herself taken a shining to Seras, and invited her to come back often for dinner and tinkering in exchange for French lessons.
The Van Winkles' kindness, more than anything, helped Seras learn to adapt to life in the poor provincial town as quickly and smoothly as she did.
I cannot believe my eyes
Rip sang in rapture as she watched Seras walk by Captain Bernadotte.
Is the girl finally growing wise?
She saw the way Seras regarded him gently, despite the accusations made against him and his men that sat so close to her heart. If the men only knew how strongly the subject hurt her, how much it haunted her every sleeping thought... And if only Seras knew how little she had to fear from them, and how much protection she had to gain from allowing herself to be accepted into their fold.
Because it seems to me
Some kind of harmony
Is on the rise...
She turned again to watch Seras and the Geese.
On the surface, it seemed the two groups fought like usual. Seras was still prudish and uptight, they were still perverted and rowdy. She was still rather harried and focused on her work, they still joked and goofed off. They still made her uncomfortable, and she still tried to make them feel unwelcome in vain.
To those who had not been there in the early days, it seemed the two parties still hated each other. Most of the current townsfolk looked on Seras and the Wild Geese's bickering and thought they hated each other. There was a greater unspoken understanding and comradery between the two. Even now, when Seras turned cold and the men uneasy.
Stay calm and low...
Seras thought. He looks at me and seems to know
All the things that I'm afraid to show...
Captain Bernadotte was very good at reading people. How could he not be? He was promoted on merit alone and his job required him to use his understanding of people to read the enemy and motivate his men alike so the latter could charge and defeat the former in battle. He also used it to woo women, and
None of the Wild Geese ever seemed to take anything seriously. They laughed and joked and made light of everything. Seras had been through so much in her life she didn't want to share, because she was afraid someone would make light of it.
Rip Van Winkle also approached her with knowing eyes, and Seras wanted to flee. She settled for pouring and collecting drinks in the tables around her, trying to pretend Rip was not about to address her mostly tightly held secrets.
"Any fool with half a brain," Rip sang, "can spend her whole life howling in pain..."
"Because the war is everywhere and I don't know how much more that I can take..." Seras began.
"You don't seem to care that all you do is focus on the dark," Rip said.
"Because the dark is everywhere..."
"And soon the dark you see is all that will remain!"
"Bite your tongue!" Seras cried.
The Geese were listening intently. One of the men watched the two girls having a conversation in song, and one of them leaned over to say dubiously, "Is this a musical theatre or real life?"
"Shhh!" hissed his buddy, and leaned closer.
"Listen close to everybody's heart," Rip sang.
"And hear that breaking sound," Seras sang sadly.
"No! Hear the hope and kindness all about..."
"And crashing to the ground," Seras said.
She had seen hundreds of good men die in one night. She had seen villages burned and servants cut down for serving the wrong lord. She had seen women devastated by soldiers on the other side. Had seen them grabbed and forced to the ground as the soldiers tore away at their skirts and...
"You must believe there's good in everybody's heart," Rip smiled.
"And..." Seras began.
"Keep it safe en sound"
Seras must believe the Wild Geese all had good in their hearts, regardless of their profession, and she had to keep it safe and sound by encouraging and returning their kindness instead of punishing them and pushing them away. She had to, or else she would be lost in her misery forever more.
"I don't know..."
"With hope, you can do your part..."
Seras turned away and looked ready to cry.
"To turn a life around...!"
Seras slammed her forearm against the wall, and nearly sobbed.
Still out in the main room, Rip Van leaned her back against the wall and draped her head as though in rapture
"I cannot believe my eyes!" they both sang.
"Is the world filled with only war and cries?" Seras cried.
"Is the girl finally growing wise?" Rip sang with sparkling eyes.
"But it's plain to see..." Seras grimaced.
"And it's plain to see...!" Rip grinned.
"Death and disparity..."
"The rapture inside of me..."
"Is on the rise" they both concluded gently.
Rip pushed off the wall and walked in a sort of pleased trance.
Seras collapsed against the wall.
Life went back to normal over the next few days. With all the madness going on around them - settling into a new town, being quartered in the homes of poor farmers that hated them instead of the tavern they felt at home in, doing repairs on the van Winkle farm filled with chaste women, and even Rip joining them in the tavern to joke, drink, play cards, and do other "guy stuff" every night - most of the men were content to enjoy talking and drinking with their buddies in the tavern. Like old times.
Most of them were no trouble to Seras or the other serving girls. They just hunched over their drinks talking or playing two-against-two card games.
"An optimist believes this is the best place in God's universe. A pessimist fears this is true."
"Amen to that," said his buddy, and they clinked their tankards together.
The accusations around town seemed to sober them up a bit, and they didn't bother anyone with loud chatter, roaring laughs, or even overtly flirtatious behavior toward the serving girls as they used to. Seras was rather grateful for it and could finally relax and enjoy her job. She looked around and enjoyed seeing the men just drinking and talking. Of the warm orange glow of fire light reflected on the familiar sight of the wooden walls, floorboards, tables and benches.
Seras wished it could remain this calm and peaceful forever. That this was the end of the subject of her past. That she could eventually learn to embrace and stomach it like stomaching food that makes you sick without vomiting it up, but it was not over; not by a long shot.
Late one the afternoon, as the men were all hunched over their drinks and Seras was getting salt in the back, two men in French soldier uniforms marched into the tavern. They looked tall and strong, yet greasy, dirty, and malicious. Their coats were frayed and their countenance travel-worn. The leader looked around with a sneer, and had a patch over one eye.
"Good afternoon gentlemen," the tavern-keeper said. "Is there any way I can serve you?"
"Yes, you can tell us where you keep the English harlot."
Several ears perked up at this. Several Geese looked up.
"The what?"
"Don't play games with me, old man," the leader said.
"We know you're harboring a dangerous English fugitive."
"A girl who pretends to be a stranded orphan but is actually a spy for the English army."
"Thanks to her, I lost my eye," the leader said, and tapped on his patch.
The tavern-keeper's head was spinning. "Wait a second. What's this all about? English spy?"
"Yes, she works for the English army."
"We were told she was staying here, so where do you keep her?"
Before the tavern-keeper could answer, Seras walked out with a full tray of food for the Geese.
She paused when she saw the soldiers. As soon as the two groups comprehended the other, several things happened at once. As soon as she saw them, Seras' face drained of blood, she gasped with terror, dropped the tray with a loud clatter, and took off for the door. The soldiers reacted with rage and aggression. Before anyone could comprehended what was happening, Seras blew past the doors and ran out into the open snow. The men swore and took after her.
"STOP HER!"
"DON'T LET HER GET AWAY!"
Several Geese immediately shot out of their seats and followed, their captain the first among them. Several patrons rose, some followed, and the ta
Seras ran as fast as she could away from the tavern and the town. She tried to take off toward the forest, then stopped and gasped when she saw the marching brigade. Her face was as pale as the snow, and her eyes darted wildly around like a caged bird looking for any chance of escape.
"GOT YOU NOW, YOU GODDAMNED WHORE!"
"THERE'S NO USE RUNNING!"
Her pause had been just what they needed to gain on her, but that didn't stop her from scrambling away and heading the long way around, hoping the arch toward the forest like the arch of a frisby. The soldiers grabbed at her hair and her skirt, and she wrenched herself away.
"YOU STAY AWAY FROM ME!" she screamed.
"No place to run now, you bitch!" he hissed.
She screamed and tried to tear herself away.
By this point, Captain Bernadotte caught up to them, wrenched the soldier away
"OY! What's this about?!" he snapped.
"You stay back, filthy pig!" the one-eyed soldier sneered.
"You're preventing the capture of a dangerous fugitive!"
"You leave me alone!" Seras screamed.
She tried to run away again, but they tried to grab.
"STOP IT!" she screamed, as tears streamed down her eyes, "LET ME GO!"
By now, several patrons and the tavern-keeper ran up. Pip again tore them away, and a few of the Geese stood between Seras and the malicious soldiers. This only seemed to make her even more frantic, and she cried and tried to run away. This also made the soldiers even more frenzied, and they tried to grab her.
"ENOUGH!" Pip snapped, "What's this all about?!"
"She's a spy for the English army!"
"NO!" Seras cried, and tried to flee.
"Little bitch should come with us!"
Through a lot of confused and jumbled accounts of both parties, the mercenaries, patrons and tavern-keeper learned that Seras was a maiden who had worked service of a prestigious English noble, who came to France during the war with England to fight for England.
"What?!" Seras cried. This was news to her.
They explained that her master had been an English noble who came on the guise of visiting French relatives, but he had been a spy for England who tried to lynch French secrets back to the general of the English army that had been stationed close by.
"That's not true!" Seras cried.
Her voice screeched. She was panicked, terrified. Her face was pale and her eyes were wild with terror, and she looked around the French faces like this was a nightmare she had lived before.
"Of course, she denies it," the soldier sneered.
"That's because it's not true!" Seras cried.
"If it's not, then you wouldn't mind coming back with us to ask some questions," and the one-eyed soldier tried to grab her again.
Seras pulled away, and at the same time Pip grabbed the man's hand and twisted it so hard it almost broke. He then pulled him by the scruff and said to his face, "If you try to touch ma cher again, I'll break your arm."
"Now, now, calm down!" the tavern-keeper's voice boomed. "What's this all about?"
The men repeated their accusation, which Seras passionately denied.
"He came to the country because he had family here!" Seras cried.
"And he wanted to leak secrets to the English general and army close by."
"They had nothing to do with each other!" Seras cried. "They just happened to be in the same province at the same time!"
"A likely story," one of the soldiers sneered.
"It's true! My master, Mr. J. H. Brenner's mother and entire maternal family was French. His favorite cousin lived in the - province, but she was hated because of France's war with England. Same with my master back home. So he came to offer her support when she was sick, because she was sick and peasants hated her. They were revolting against her. It seemed likely they would storm her estate..."
"With good reason!"
"And then the army attacked them, didn't you know?" Seras glared through her tears. "There was a battle close by. But, not content to kill the soldiers in the army, they attacked my master and his family, and slaughtered everyone there." The men tried to talk over her, but Seras said more loudly. "The men! The women! The children! They torched them, burned them, raped them! I still hear their screams in my dreams!"
"She's lying-!" the one-eyed soldier exclaimed.
"They deserved it-!" his companion said at the same time.
Busted.
"They burned the whole village down," Seras said. "The whole village that served. They raided the castle! They raped the women...!"
"Lies!"
"Not enough to kill the men, they took the women!" Seras cried. "Servants like us, some of us fled through a secret door, ran for the fields..."
"She's lying!"
"We ran for the cover of the woods, anything but the torch and screams of massacres..."
"SHUT YOUR DAMNED MOUTH, YOU FUCKING WHORE!"
Pip kept his promise of breaking the man's arm for trying to hurt Seras. He did it in such a way that most of the townsfolk did not see (as his body was turned from them) and muffled the man's scream by clapping his hand over his mouth, clutched the man close to him, and often threatened to wrench the broken arm behind his back if he struggled too much.
"Don't you ever talk about ma cher like that," he hissed.
"Ever day," Seras said, and seemed to sink further and further into her terrified reverie. "Every day, I remember that day..."
Seras was so beside herself with fear. She was pale as death. Her sweated was cold and her tears were fresh. "We were heading for the forest. I saw him," she pointed to the one-eyed man held by the one-eyed mercenary. "I saw him raping Jeanette. So I pushed him away, and he went after me instead. They all went after us instead...
She fell so deep into her fear and memories she chanted, almost like a nursery rhyme:
First, they come and catch everyone.
Second, we wait and fear for our fate.
Third, they beat us and save us for meat.
Fourth, they return and it's another girl's turn.
Fifth, her screams we hear in our dreams.
Sixth, she grew as in her mouth they spew.
Seventh, we hated as she is violated.
Eighth hour, she gags as they choke her with rags.
Now she sleeps in the ravine, and her life is only a dream.
Seras looked at all the men - the mercenaries, the patrons, the tavern-keeper - looked them in the eye and said:
"Now you lay and wait, for her screams will haunt you in your dreams."
"You lying whore!" the one-eyed man spat.
"She was your KIN!" Seras cried.
"She was a fucking traitor!"
"She was a poor servant trying to get by, same as me!"
"It's because of her I lost my eye!" the soldier snarled, and pointed an accusing finger at Seras.
"Because you tried to rape me!"
"ENOUGH!" the tavern keeper shouted, "This is getting us nowhere! Let's get inside the tavern and talk like civilized men!"
"I'm not going back with him!" Seras cried, her panic anew. She was no longer Seras Victoria anymore, but a creature wild with terror. "I won't go!"
"If you're innocent, you have nothing to fear!"
"I won't go, and you can't make me!"
One of the men tried to grab her, and she wrenched herself away and fled for the forest again.
Pip shoved aside the greasy-haired, one-eyed soldier away and tried to grab Seras. Normally he would let her go, but the war was close and there were deserters and hungry soldiers not satisfied with the army rations and whores. The attacks on the road and the forest were getting worse recently. If she went in, he feared she would never come out.
"Ma cher!" he called as he grabbed her arm.
She flipped out the moment he touched her. "LET ME GO!"
"NON, I won't let you go!"
"S'il vous plait ! I've done nothing to you!" she cried.
"I know, that's why I'm trying to protect you..."
But she was completely lost in her terror.
"Please! Please, I have no quarrel with your people!"
"I know you don't..."
"Please, please, I never wanted to hurt anyone in France! Even though we were at war, I never wanted to hurt anyone!"
"I know... I know..."
"Please, you have to understand," Seras cried. "I had nothing back home! I was a filthy urchin forced to live off the streets! I fought wild dogs for rubbish people threw out their windows! That's how bad it was! Then Mr. J. H. Brenner took pity on me and offered me a job as a scullery maid! And when he came here I had to go with him because if he didn't I'd... I'd..."
"Shhhhhh..." Pip hushed her. "It's all right. You're all right."
"I would have been destitute!" Seras sobbed. "If he left and I stayed, I would have had nothing back home. So I followed him here and then... and then..."
"And then you were hurt," Pip said gently.
She was descending into sobbing, but he still held her arm tight to keep her from running away.
"There were so many hurt worse than I," she sobbed.
"I know... I know..."
"They were French too! Did you know that? They were French too. The girls they hurt were their own countrymen. Or women. I don't know. I just know they hurt them, and they never would have..."
"I know... I know..." Pip said soothingly.
The mercenaries looked at her with pity. Even the patrons found it hard not to feel sorry for her.
"I never wanted them to get hurt... I never wanted them to get hurt... It's because of me, because of my countrymen, but I never had anything against them. They never had anything against them. They were good women, you see. Good men. I saw hundreds killed in the blink of an eye. Snuffed out like candles when the tied turned. The battle was won, but still they came... they came..."
She broke down sobbing, practically keeled over with the force of her sobs.
"I never meant to hurt them, never meant to hurt them, but they meant to hurt us. Meant to hurt us. Mr. Brenner had nothing against them. Lady Georgette had nothing against them. But they did to us... they did to us..."
"Shhhhh," Pip hushed. "It's all right. No one's here to hurt you. You're all right..."
"I never meant..." she sobbed. "I never..."
"I know... I know..." he cooed, and tried to pull her into a hug.
She was breathing extremely hard, and at first resisted him, but after a spell she melted into his embrace. Right there, in front of everyone, she clutched him like she was dying and she sobbed and sobbed.
"It's all right, ma cher..." he cooed.
He held her close, leaned down and held her tighter.
"Please, I never..." she sobbed.
With one arm still hooked tight around her back, he used the other to cup the back of her head and pull her to cry into the crook of his neck, so he could whisper soothing sweet nothings into her ear.
The bad thing about being a distrusted foreigner in a poor provincial town, filled with little people, with little worldviews, was that being accused of being a spy and traitor was as good as actually being one. All of the good deeds and conduct she had done in their town - every Mass she had attended, every Catholic holiday she had observed, every charitable act she had done, every meal and pie she had baked for the family of the girls who had been attacked - suddenly meant nothing in the face of the accusation by a seemingly French soldier come to denounce her character.
"Who are you going to believe?" one of the soldiers shouted to the townsfolk. "A member of the French army, or some goddamned filthy Protestant pig-sow?"
Unfortunately for them, Pip was extremely clever. He thought fast, thought on his feet, and exploited every weak point he saw, both on the battlefield and in conversation.
"A member of the French army, you say? Then where are your countrymen?"
Their bald-faced shock was a little too sudden.
"No, really!" Pip said, loudly and clearly enough that the crowd could hear him. "If you are part of the French military, then where is your brigade? Unit? Platoon? Commanding officer? Are you on leave? Where are your papers to prove you may be dismissed from the army? I'm sure we would all like to hear it!"
If they were innocent, now would have been a good time to point it out. Instead, they balked, stuttered, and tried to back-peddle.
"Of course, we..."
"Who are you to ask us?"
"You've got the look of an Irishman about you..."
"That has nothing to do with your situation," Pip said. "If you
They tried to throw his question back on him, but Pip deftly and smoothly explained his men's situation. They may be Irishmen, but they had been France's allies in the 'War of the Kings' in conflicts passed. They had legally immigrated to France to serve the French monarch as a mercenary army. They were as legal and loyal to the king as any French troop, and many of them were French born and bred besides. Their Wild Geese mercenary army was legally contracted to serve during this time of war, and Captain Bernadotte's military unit of 98 men were stationed in this little village to wait on standby until such a time as they were needed, to gather with the greater brigade of Wild Geese. And he had the papers to prove it, signed by General - and stamped with the French Army's official wax seal.
"So I say again," he said. "What proof do you men have?"
With the so-called "soldiers" thoroughly discredited, Seras now had a fighting chance. Not enough to ever be accepted by the town again, but also not enough to get driven out or lynched as a spy.
Unfortunately, her reputation was ruined.
Wherever she walked, she heard people whispering and gossiping about her. The tavern-keeper was absolutely infuriated with Seras for keeping that aspect of her past from them. Like the Bouviers before him, he gave her the verbal thrashing of her life.
"When I hired you, I didn't expect you would keep such a secret about your past."
"Because I didn't!" Seras said.
"You didn't say you were working for an English spy during wartime."
"Because I wasn't," Seras cried. "I don't even know where he got that."
"Spoken by the English harlot!"
"I have proof of what he did. You can look it up on his military record, ask his commanding officer."
"Yet I have nothing on your past."
"That's because there isn't any. I'm nobody! I have nothing of consequence. I've never done anything worth noting."
"And yet you worked for an English noble who treaded on French soil while the countries were at war."
"Because he had family on French soil and I merely followed him because he was my master!"
"If you had nothing to hide, then why didn't you share?"
"Because I didn't think it was important at the time!"
"And why shouldn't it important when you worked for an English spy?"
"He wasn't a spy!"
"Bite your tongue! A French soldier who served his country, defending French citizens on French soil from English soldiers, confirmed it!"
"He attacked French maids, I hope you know..."
"Traitors to their homeland."
"And he's been thrown out of the army for war crimes and heinous conduct," Seras cried. "You can check with his military record, his superior officer!"
"And yet I have nothing to check for you."
"Because there is nothing to check!"
"Not since you have hidden it!"
"With all due respect, sir," Seras said as respectfully as she could, "You could have asked any time if you were curious, and I would have answered honestly."
"It's easy to say that now that your secret is out."
"It wasn't a secret!"
"Then why didn't you share if you had nothing to hide?"
"Because I didn't want to remember!" Seras cried. "Can't you understand that? It's too painful to think about! I don't want to remember it!"
"Don't raise your voice to me, young lady!" he shouted. "Your passion betrays your guilt!"
"Sir, do you really think I would do anything to hurt the people of this country?"
"I knew there was something wrong with you from the moment you walked in!"
"So why hire me then? If I was so untrustworthy, why let me into your family's business to work alongside your daughters?"
"I keep asking myself the same thing," he said.
"So ask yourself again," Seras pleaded. "And while you're at it, ask yourself what there is to spy on? England and France have not been at war for years. In fact, England has moved on to fight other nations, and France has done the same. You're fighting with Spain now, correct? Even though you've both been allies against England for decades? In fact, France and England are allied currently, are they not?"
"Unfortunately," one of the mercenaries griped.
"Thank you," Seras said a bit sarcastically.
They discussed it for quite a bit after that.
"You're really good at reading people, sir," Seras said to the tavern-keeper. "I've seen it. You're an excellent judge of character. You've put down trouble-makers before they even had a chance to start something. You've mediated countless disputes with a fair and even hand. You've seen me work and interact with these men - your friends, neighbors, and valued customers - for a few weeks. I know you don't like me or trust me. But really, please put that dislike aside, and answer me honestly. Based on what you've seen of me, and how I have worked in your establishment: do you really think I would do anything to hurt anyone anyone here, in this town, in this country?"
Her question cut him to the core.
Finally, he had to concede he did not.
His concession prevented her from being chased out of town like a witch during a witch hunt.
By the same token though, the fact that she concealed her past meant she was no longer welcome in his establishment.
Seras felt her blood run cold. "But it's the middle of winter! I'll starve without this job!"
"I don't see how that's my problem," he said with cold eyes.
Seras was absolutely devasted. She had worked so far for so long to live, to work, to fit in. Despite how many horrors she had lived through time and time again, she had suppressed her trauma and terror time and time again.
She felt like everything she had worked for fell apart in shattered fragments all around her. Everything she had tried so hard to prevent from happened, happened anyway. The job she toiled away at, the reputation she worked so hard to preserve, the terror she terror so hard to suppress. With one man's accusation, it all fell apart.
Worst of all, the Geese had seen her for what she was. They had seen into her past, her terror of soldiers and men; and she felt it left her vulnerable to ridicule.
Her soul felt shattered, and she didn't know what to do. And still, the gossips talked. The people stared, whispered, nudged. She heard scratches of the horrible things they said, and she knew they would say more tomorrow. She knew that by morning, she would be as good as exiled. A foreigner, a spy, a traitor.
The Geese stared at her, and she could only imagine they would make some joke. The patrons pointed and glared, and she could only guess they were saying awful things.
She looked out the window, where the snow fell as delicately as gosling down. Out there, it was so peaceful and beautiful. It was cold as the touch of death, and just as draining. How it is that something so beautiful and sheltering could
In the corner, she could hear the fiddler playing a soft, sad tune, almost to mourn her leaving.
Like spreading a balm to ease her own broken heart, she sang gently.
L'hiver s'installe doucement dans la nuit
La neige est reine à son tour
Un royaume de solitude
(Winter slowly settles into the night
It's the snow's turn to be queen
A kingdom of solitude)
Her voice cracked as she added:
Ma place est là pour toujours
(My place is here forever.)
"Despite what you might think," she said in a bitter voice, turning to glare at them all. "I'll never go home again. I can't afford the voyage, and even if I could, et après ? If I died tonight..." she held herself sadly, "no one would notice a change."
It was painful to admit she was dead to her homeland. Not even dead, she never existed. Her mother and father were gone. None of their neighbors or her father's men wanted to take her in. All her life, she was passed from one orphanage to another farm house to work as another farm hand to another street to run wild like an urchin. No one ever noticed her except to reprimand her when she did wrong, and she doubted anyone thought of her now that she was gone.
Many Frenchmen wondered why Seras came to France. Well, now they knew. Many Frenchmen wondered why Seras didn't return to England. Now they felt they knew the answer: she was spying on France for England. What self-flattery they complimented themselves with. If only it was something so grand.
The sad truth was, Seras didn't return home because there was no one to return home to.
Le vent qui hurle en moi ne pense plus à demain.
Il est bien trop fort. J'ai lutté, en vain.
(The wind which howls in me no longer thinks about tomorrow.
It is far too strong. I struggled in vain.)
Struggled to let go of her fears. Struggled to put her past behind her. Struggled to start anew, create a new life, make herself useful to somebody. Struggled to hide her terror and disgust for the Wild Geese. Struggled to pretend the malicious gossip, rumors, and rebukes toward her from villagers didn't bother her. Struggled to get on with her life.
Struggled to forget her terror of men. She felt her heart stop every time they addressed her. She saw flashbacks of being struck every time they approached her. Her nightmares every night of the battle that nearly destroyed her life like it did to so many women she had known.
She then looked in Captain Bernadotte's eye and said sadly:
"And soldiers bring the most turbulence and pain..."
She sighed and tried to walk briskly away. The fiddler played a more lively tune, and to his music she sang:
Don't let them in, don't let them see,
Be the good girl you always have to be!
Conceal, don't feel! Don't let it show!
Don't let them know!
Then she seemed to come to a sort of epiphany.
She grabbed her remaining glove and threw it into the air as she bellowed:
Well, now they know!
She then smiled and sang more loudly and clearly than she ever had before:
Let it go! Let it go!
Can't hold my passions and fears away anymore
Let it go! Let it go!
Turn away and slam the door
And Seras Victoria, who had spent her entire adult life burdened by what people thought, what hateful, horrible, hurtful, demeaning, degrading, humiliating things people would say and do if they caught her, felt like a great weight was lifted from her shoulders as she turned to her left.
"Ça m'est égal ! (I don't care!)" she cried as she shoved a huge bitcher of beer over to several Wild Geese.
She grinned more widely and turned to her right.
"Ça ne vaut pas la peine ! (It's not worth the pain!)" she shouted as she shoved several ales over to a group of patrons.
Disregarding the mess she had made, she walked away with her head high and exclaimed: "Let the gossips talk on!"
She then brought her hands to the back of her neck and untied her apron. With a seductive little smile, she looked toward the men and let the apron fall around her feet as she said: "The cold never bothered me anyway."
She then strutted toward the door, feeling elated and empowered. God, was this what it felt like to feel happy and free? What was it all this time that kept her so scared, rigid, and hunched over? She looked around at the patrons and mercenaries whose thoughts and comments tormented her not an hour before. Now she saw them staring at her dubiously, and she couldn't care less. She could only fathom what they thought, and it didn't bother her at all!
The fiddler on the roof, who was always her ally in all things musical, was playing a more jaunty tune. And Sears realized she was strutting to it!
It's funny how some distance
Makes everything seem small
She sang as she turned back to look at the men behind her - the patrons and the mercenaries - whose thoughts and words used to keep her fretting all night long. What did they think? What did she care? Still strutting backwards, her hips and breasts swaying to the music, and she grinned as she said:
And the fears that once controlled me
Can't get to me at all
Then she gave a sort of victory pump, turned around and ran toward the door, but stopped to address every mercenary she passed on her way out. As there were no less than five tables on the way, she had a lot to get through. Still she wanted them to know... wanted them to know what fears had once tormented her that now blew through the air like the rising storm. She half-said, half-sang as she strutted along:
"A bird sitting high up on a forest branch, cares not for soldiers burning a village far below! A rabbit nibbling in the wintery underbrush, doesn't think twice of screaming women being dragged from burning village huts. A wolf howling far in the distant hills beyond doesn't care of a single orange dot twinkling near the horizon's eye! If they can live that way, why can't I?"
The men were vaguely disturbed by her choice of words.
But Seras was exalted. This was amazing! Was this how it felt not to care?
The fiddler played the same plucky tune as before, so she could start and sing again.
"The farmer that beat me when I was young," she said cheerfully to one of the Geese she passed, "Learned quickly that I wasn't as scared of the snow as him. I could stay out all night and day, living in dens like little animals! The soldier that tried to rape me when I came here, saw quickly that a river makes a better refuge. I'll walk, I'll crawl, I'll dive, I'll shiver, I'll freeze... if it means I can be free of men's cruelty!"
It's time to see what I can do
To test the limits and break through
No "right," no "wrong," no rules for me
I'm free!
She then ran through the sea of men like Moses through the Red Sea. And suddenly, that shy, meek, reserved, submissive young woman that never sang above a whisper in all her life suddenly belted out loud enough to bring people looking curiously down from upstairs:
Libérée! Délivrée!
Les étoiles me tendent les bras
(Freed, released
The stars hold out arms to me)
The men were shocked into numb silence. All this time, they thought Rip Van Winkle was the vivacious singer. And now, when this shy "good girl" put her mind to it, her voice blew Rip's out of the water in sheer passion and intensity.
Libérée! Délivrée!
Non, je ne pleure pas
(Freed, released
No, I don't cry)
She spun in place, then lifted her skirt and stomped on the floor with her little work boot.
Me voilà !
Oui, je suis là !
(Here I am!
Yes, I'm here!)
She then turned to address the men all around her, she sang in their tongue: "Let the storm rage on..."
She then motioned for the fiddler to play music that was higher and faster, and heaved open the thick wooden doors to let the wind and snow flakes blow in. She would have left then, had not the fiddler nodded to her played a much faster and livelier tune. Encouraged by the music and the storm, Seras twirled with the wind and let her steps move in beat to the fiddler's bow.
Taking a deep breath, she sang more loudly and clearly than the storm or the fiddle:
"My world flurries through the air up from ground," she lifted her arms as the wind blew up.
"My soul is spiraling like frozen crystals blowing all around," she twirled sharply along with the swirling snowflakes.
"And one whim blows me from one place to another like an icy blast!" a great gust blew behind her so it lifted her skirts.
"I've seen places you can never hope to understand!" she grabbed Captain Bernadotte's scarf as she sang, then let him go the moment she was done.
"And like a snow flake blown by the storm, I don't care where I land!"
Pip saw Seras face the tavern and tear a locket from her neck (how had he never seen this before?) as though to throw it. Instead, her eyes teared and her voice broke as she said,"Je ne reviendrai pas (I'm never going back)" She then hardened her face in resolve and threw the locket as she sang: "Le passé est passé ! (The past is past!)"
More loudly and clearly than ever, she ran her hands through her hair as she bellowed:
Libérée! Délivrée!
And I'll fly like the birds and the stars in the sky!
She then tore open her chemise to show more of her generous cleavage and her overskirt to reveal her petticoat underneath.
Free to walk as briskly as she could, she strutted before the men as confidently as a queen.
Libérée, Délivrée
Plus de fille parfaite
(Freed, released
No longer the perfect girl)
She sang as she strutted, spread her arms wide as she bellowed:
Je suis là !
Comme je l'ai rêvé !
(I'm here!
Exactly as I dreamed it!)
She then stood before the door and spread her arms to the sky, and sang as loudly and clearly as she could:
"Let the storm and the gossips rage oooooooooooon!"
She then stopped short and said with that same little smirk:
Le froid est pour moi le prix de la liberté.
(The cold for me is the price of freedom.)
She then turned on her heel, walked out the door, and let the doors slam behind her.