Chapter 2

"Jean-Marie!" Queen Elaine exclaimed with terror on her face as she examined her muddy twelve year old daughter. "What in Heaven's name have you been up to?"

"Dinner is promptly at seven and we cannot have you looking like that," King John said with slight frustration in his voice. Jean just stood there with her muddy head down, looking at her muddy shoes. She bent her head down, not because she was ashamed, but because she did not want her parents to see her smiling.

She had been playing outside with Scott and they had fallen in the mud somehow right before she fumbled inside the palace through the front gates. She did not want to leave him but she knew she had to. She knew that it was time for dinner and her royal duties. Unfortunately, she had not gotten past her parents in time.

"It's that boy, is it not?!?" Queen Elaine exclaimed with question and disbelief. "Jean-Marie DeGreyon! I will not allow you to go gallivanting any further with that boy. He has corrupted your young mind and as the queen of France I will not tolerate such behavior!"

"Mother, we were merely," Jean began but knew better than to interrupt her mother when she was angry.

"Silence child," her mother yelled with a whisper. She bent her head towards the now taller Jean and Jean brought her head up to look into her mother's eyes. "If I catch you with that boy………" her mother began as Jean unconsciously tuned her out. She swallowed hard and to her surprise, the sound ejected outwards. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Um, Madam," Kitty began in the corner of the wide hall. She neared Jean and put her hands on Jean's muddy shoulders. "Should I clean her up now? Your guests will be arriving soon."

"Jean," Queen Elaine said without regard to Kitty. "I will not speak any further because I expect you to be the responsible future queen I know you are. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Madam," Jean said robotically.

"Katherine," Queen Elaine said as she put her arm through her husbands as always. Jean never saw her parents more happier with each other except at special occasions or dinner with other people of importance. "Get Jean cleaned up for dinner. Our guests will be arriving soon."

"Yes, Madam."

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Queen Elaine forced herself into her large red bed in a large, echoing room that was surrounded by red curtains. It was led by a long corridor in a secret premises no one but one servant and their children were allowed to enter. She pulled the red covers up her flannel white nightgown and turned her head away from her husband.

"Oh Elaine, she is growing up, what did you expect?" King John asked as he turned his head away from her also.

"I expected better from Katherine," Queen Elaine said as she rolled her eyes regarding her husband who was not visible to her face. "After all she does get paid to nurture her when I cannot."

"Which brings me to the question of 'do we honestly know our daughter?'" King John said with annoyance towards his wife.

"It is enough that I receive stress from being a Queen and a mother of a trouble-making twelve year old girl, I don't need it from you!" Queen Elaine exclaimed with a rising voice. "I know my daughter well enough."

"I am just trying to reason……"

"Trying to reason with me, John?" Queen Elaine squawked. She had her head turned over her shoulder now, green eyes darting at her husband. She felt an overwhelming feeling of emptiness and anger. "You are always regarding her without my consent, and you give her everything she wants! Including her wanting to be with that boy! Next thing we know he shall be pursuing her into a romantic relationship to become wealthy and to be king of France."

"We have only seen him a few times and merely created small talk. We do not even know if he is decent," King John said as he imitated Queen Elaine's movement in her positions. "He may be a very nice boy."

"Enough! I know what kind of family he comes from," she said quietly, but harshly. "You never think of these kind of things. I thought I knew you better when I married you but what I have learned is that you are a man whose eyes are closed and……"

"Elaine," King John said as he retreated his head to his fluffy white pillow. He was ready to extend their argument and disagreements but he felt tired. He sighed and felt Elaine tug at the covers. "Could we please stop arguing? We never have time for oursel………"

"Good night," Queen Elaine said sharply as silence echoed in the large room.

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Scott tilted his head backwards and looked up the long castle wall. "Jean!" he yelled in a whisper. "Jean!" he repeated, but more loudly this time until he noticed red hair peak from the square window. "Are you positive it is alright with your parents? I sometimes forget that they are the king and queen of France," Scott said, shaking his head slightly.

"We have been doing this for three years. Ever since we met when we were nine years old," Jean said with a reassuring wave of her fair hand. "You think they are going to say something now?" Jean asked not regarding the scene with her parents two days ago. She grabbed the rope that Scott had threw up to her window. She tied it around a nail that was in the side wall of her bedroom. After she had done her duty, she allowed Scott to climb up the rope as she went to change.

"Good afternoon," Scott greeted properly when he made it through the window and into her room without the slightest show of struggle.

"Good afternoon," Jean said as she heard footsteps approaching the fanlike object she was changing behind. "Stop right there. I'm changing. And don't you dare look," Jean said with a warning voice followed by a small giggle.

"Your wish is my command," he said playfully as he watched her nightgown swing over the black fan-like object covering her. Jean suddenly came out in a bonnet and a dark blue ensemble, not that of a princess. "You look like……like a peasant."

"Well that's the point, stupid. We are going to town now, are we not?" Jean said with a laugh from Scott. She went over to her dresser to brush her long red hair. "Let us not waist time. While I am brushing my hair, could you do me a favor and tell me what books are on the table. I want to return the ones I have already read before we go into town."

"Yes, Me Lady," Scott said sweetly as he went over to the brown table decorated with fancy engravings. "Um…there is a book with large imprint on it."

"Well, what does it say?"

"There is another one with a black cover that is small and thick," Scott said with a low and shameful voice.

"Scott, you know how many of those there are?" Jean asked rhetorically with a slight annoyance. "Can you please tell me what they are called?"

Scott gulped down the saliva that was sitting in his mouth for so long. He could not ignore it now. It has come back to haunt him like it has ever since he learned what it was. He felt a sick feeling in his stomach when he passed the library in town. Sometimes he would watch Jean finishing up an intriguing passage in a book before she would join him and his heart and mind longed to be in her place. To have the beauty of knowledge that she contained.

"Scott?" Jean asked slowly as she turned her red head around. "You can't read, can you?" She looked at her friend who had the expression she has had many times. She could always read his mind somehow and feel his thoughts. And right now she knew he wanted to crouch in a corner, and put his knees up to his face.

Jean approached him quickly and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder to say, "Do not worry, everything will be alright. I shall teach you."

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The day shone with soft light from the bright yellow star surrounded by fluffy clouds. The brick cemented pathway down the market gave Jean the feeling of freedom. The feeling that she could stroll down to the end of it and choose if she wanted to go left or right.

Jean and Scott followed each other's steps across the streets of France. Jean made sure her bonnet was placed well upon her head. She did not want a fiasco concerning her, the princess. She did not want people guarding her, helping her, or treating her special. She ran her delicate, clean fingers to smoothen her dark blue dress that was Kitty's old one in which she let her borrow.

They both made a stop at the bakery. They could not resist that heavenly smell that lingered in the air. "Why, hello there," the kind man greeted. He wore a long white hat that fluffed up from the top and a white apron around his round belly.

Jean watched as he made the dough for the bread. She watched him carefully as he placed the bread in perfect lines and into the oven nicely. His hands were slightly dirty and large, but his face was so welcoming. Jean had never come to the bakery to get bread. Servants would get it for them. They would eat and eat at dinner and say how wonderfully delicious it was. But they would never say anything about the people behind the work. The people who make such wonderful things for others to eat and enjoy.

"Those smell delicious, Mister," Jean said, taking in the warm smell of the fresh bread. "I have never smelled it so fresh in my life. Must be crazy for you to sit here and make the bread, but never be able to eat it."

"Ah my dear, this is true. Although I may not be able to eat it, does not mean you cannot eat it and let me know that I have done a good job," the baker said as he handed them both pieces of warm, fresh bread. Jean and Scott popped it into their mouths and devoured it slowly.

"You have not done a good job. You have done better than that," Jean said with a smile followed by one from Scott.

"Thank you," Scott said kindly as they left the bakery and strolled down the street. Scott suddenly walked in front of Jean and faced her, walking backwards. Jean stopped and looked at him with a puzzled expression. Scott walked with his nose in the air and his back erected up. He placed his hands out in a very womanly fashion and glided beside Jean. "Let us play the guessing game. Who am I?" Scott asked.

"That's easy," Jean said. "My mother." Scott started waving lightly with his hand as Jean started laughing hard, Scott joining in afterwards. When they both calmed down she looked at Scott and gave an honest statement. "You are the bravest soul I know to imitate the queen of France."

"I know," Scott said smugly as Jean gave him a little shove.

"Scott," Jean whispered as she saw a crowd gathered around gypsies. Some were dancing quite lovely while others were reading palms. Jean had the urge to watch them dancing, but the crowd was too big and she knew she would be robbed.

"What is it?" Scott asked as he followed her green eyes and looked in her direction.

"Look there. Gypsies," Jean said with slight disgust.

"Um……" Scott hesitated. "Do you want to watch them dancing? Or do you want them to read your palm?"

"Scott! They are thieves," Jean said flatly. "They will rob you where you are standing. They are not to be trusted."

"Uh…… why not?" Scott questioned.

"They do not have a solid home, they steal, and their way of life is barbaric," Jean said with disgust. Scott just looked away and began to walk away from them with Jean by his side. "Their way of life is disgusting and unacceptable. Something we would never be able to live in."

They walked down the street until they stopped at a little stand outside, across from the church, that was selling small artifacts such as broaches. Scott started looking at the things on the stand and examining them. But Jean noticed someone in the street corner, near the side wall of the church. She walked closer to learn more of the hooded person.

"Young missy!" the salesman yelled urgently in a whisper. "You come here now young missy and stop looking over yonder. You youngsters should not be wandering the streets alone."

"Who……" Jean and Scott began together, as if reading each other, but were interrupted.

"Turn it down missy," the man said as he looked around to make sure no one was listening. He bent his bald head down as it sunk into it's own shadow, only revealing the tips of his long black mustache. "You do not want to be attracting attention for yourself to the man over there."

"What is wrong with that man?" Scott asked as he looked over there.

"They say he goes by the name of Kurtis Chagner," the salesman said in a low voice. "He comes from Germany with a sister named Marie Chagner," he said, cringing.

"Well what is wrong with him and his sister?" Jean asked as her and Scott listened intently. "He and his sister are beggars. They have no home, no family. People say that they murdered their mother and fled to France to find a new life. They are filthy and dangerous. They say Kurtis is a devil. If you went near him or talked to him or did anything but put money in his hat, he would chop your head off. They also say that his sister deprives families of their mothers. They say she kills mothers because she had a poor one. She is filthy and eats rats. Her nickname is said to be Rogue because of the rogue that she is."

Jean and Scott were taken aback by the horrible story. They looked at the man with frightened eyes. Jean suddenly changed her expression into an annoyed one. "You are making this all up. Where in God's name did you think of a story such as that?"

"They do not believe in God, young missy," the salesman said as Jean and Scott glanced at each other. Jean grabbed Scott and walked away from the intimidating man behind the counter.

"I am not afraid," Jean said courageously. Then she glanced at the hooded man and slouched slightly but brought her shoulders back up with pride. "Are you?"

"No, no. I am not afraid," Scott said with as much pride. "In fact, I have a coin to spare. I shall walk up there and drop this in his hat."

"Great idea," Jean said with a small smile. "Let's go." Jean and Scott walked up to the hooded man slowly. He was sitting in a fashion that was undecided because his long robe covered all of his body, making nothing visible to the naked eye. His face was also not seen behind the hood that reflected black inside. Jean and Scott walked close together with their heads held high. Scott took out his coin and held it in his hand for a few seconds.

"You do the honors," Scott said to Jean as she took it quickly. She bent down a little, making sure she was a few feet distance away from the man. She reached out her hand and dropped the coin in.

A hand suddenly popped out of the robe and grabbed her wrist before she could move it away from the hat. Jean and Scott let out a loud shriek as Scott began to run. Pulling on Jean's free hand. But the hooded man's grasp was tight. Jean kept screaming at the top of her lungs as she stared at the only thing visible to her terrified eyes at the moment. The pale hand coming out of the robe and holding her wrist tight.

She heard Scott screaming behind her and tugging at her right arm. "JEAN!!!" was all he could scream.

"SCOTT!!!" she screamed back as Scott pulled harder. Jean tumbled over him when her hand was finally freed from the man's grasp. They both got up and ran away as fast as they could without looking back.

They ran all the way back to the palace. They went through the fields that Scott always picked flowers from and into the courtyard. Thankfully, it was empty.

"Jean, Scott," a voice spoke from behind them. They both let out a small shriek and put their hands over their hearts when they realized who it was.

"Grandfather," Jean said with relief. "You scared us half to death."

Charles just looked at them with suspicion and let out a small smile. "Your mother is looking for you."

"Jean?!" Queen Elaine's voice boomed from inside the palace. Her footsteps were getting closer. Jean darted her head towards Scott and widened her eyes.

"If my mother finds out that I was out with you she will kill me!" Jean exclaimed.

"Mousier," Scott said kindly to Charles.

"Grandfather, would you be so kind as to," Jean began as she turned to hear her mother's footsteps getting closer.

"Jean," Charles said in disbelief. "Would I ever?"

"Please Grandfather!" Jean pleaded.

"Would I ever………be anything but a Grandfather if I did not lead you outside the palace before the queen has a fit, son?" Charles said as he placed his arm around Scott's small shoulders.

"Thank you," Scott said with a smile as he tilted his head upwards to look at the bald head of Charles. "Grandfather."

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Scott sat next to Jean in the corner of the large library behind a large book shelf. It was full of all sorts of books and Scott had never seen anything so amazing. They both sat on the floor, close together, with their knees up to their chests as Jean taught him the alphabet and the pronun-ciations that went with each symbol. Scott followed along with a smile as he learned new things that he never thought he could ever learn.

Jean abruptly stopped and looked over at Scott who was trying to memorize a letter he was stuck on. "Scott, how come you do not have the knowledge of reading and writing?" Jean asked with curiosity. Scott's face darted upwards as he looked at Jean blankly. "Do your parents not teach you?" Jean asked.

"My parents say it is just the way things are," Scott said with his own confusion. "When I told them I did not understand, they told me I would understand when I was older."

"Understand what?" Jean asked.

"Why I cannot read, I guess," Scott said as Jean listened to the rain pounding against the glass window of the library. She listened to the silence around them and Scott's steady breathing. His breathing was becoming deeper and it blended with the sound of the rain. It was like a personal symphony made for her ears only. Jean felt comfortable as his head lay on her shoulder. "Jean?"

"Hmm?" Jean answered with a moan, deep in thought.

"Do you really think that the hooded man, or Kurtis Chagner, really killed his mother?" Scott asked.

"Yes," Jean answered without thought. "Why do you think he left Germany? Do you think that he left because people spoke of him in Germany the same way they speak of him here?"

"Of course. He and his sister murdered their own mother," Scott said flatly.

"But they know that here too. Why would he move if it is going to be the same thing here as it was in Germany?"

"I do not know," Scott said with retreat. "Jean?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you marry me?"

"Sure."

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