God these are so much fun! Ugh, love to write this! Oh, review! Justify my work!
And the Dream of Paris Preys on My Bones
Chapter 8: The Miller's Son
The three stayed in that town for three weeks, doing really nothing in particular during the day and making frequent visits to that tavern in the evening, Mercier and Chauvelin indulging themselves in whatever pleasures they so desired, and Coupeau lamenting about the his troubles and his sorrow over the fall of his friends into the hands of Satan. That is, until one of the girls gently explained to him exactly what his friends were doing in that back room, and he began preaching against fornication. And one day, he just stopped, much to the delight of his compatriots and soon no longer accompanied his friends to the tavern in the evenings.
But still, life remained wonderful for the boys, even though Chauvelin refused to buy food, despite the fact that he had plenty of money to do so. He was intent on saving every bit of the money he so cunningly swindled from drunken aristocrats, an activity that he did often, claiming that mooching was a perfectly respectable way to get by.
All the boys, even the hard to please Chauvelin, were thoroughly content in the small town and were really not very anxious at all to leave. They had even taken the time to locate a decent plot of land where they could build a home for themselves, for none had the desire to pick up and move elsewhere.
"Where's Coupeau at?" Chauvelin asked quickly as he ran up to his friend.
"Don't know. Haven't seen him around."
"Pity." The two suddenly stopped as they came upon a crowd of people lining the streets. Looking at each other in confusion, they pushed their way through and into the street which was completely empty except for the horse of the nobleman they just stepped in front of. Snarling in contempt, the noble snapped, "Out of the way, you filthy plebeians."
This only managed in making Chauvelin angry. Lifting his head in defiance, he slung his pack over his shoulder and firmly said, "And who are you to order me about?"
"I am the Marquis de Coulogne, and I own this land and all the people in it. Now do as I say!"
"People can't belong to other people!" Chauvelin cried, becoming violently angry. "And I have as much right to be here as you! You're no better than me!"
The crowed gasped, and Chauvelin smiled defiantly as the Marquis became much angrier. "We are free men, and no one can tell us what to do! Liberte, egalite, et fraternite!" He grinned in pride as the people began talking amongst themselves, his little catch phrase heard very often. Looking back up at the Marquis, he shrugged and said, "I've got some nice land in Audruica that I will sell you, if you like."
The Marquis lifted his eyebrow, looked sceptically at the small dirty boy with dirt on his face and no shoes on his feet. "Do you now?"
"Yes," Chauvelin said as he plunked down on the road and shifted through his bag, withdrawing several rolls of parchment. "Come now, get off the horse and we'll talk about a decent price."
Cautiously, the Marquis dismounted and took one of the pieces of parchment and looked it over. "Good God, this is real…"
"Yes, yes," Chauvelin said dismissively. "It's good farmland too. I can't let it go for less than sixty thousand francs."
"What? That's insane! Do you know how much that is?"
"Yes, and have you seen how much land this is? It's good land, and I cannot let it go for any less."
The man seemed to consider this before firmly stating, "Forty thousand."
Chauvelin shook his head and began putting the land deeds away, but the Marquis quickly stopped him and muttered his agreement to sixty thousand. They made a quick exchange, and the Marquise was off and Chauvelin, grinning like an idiot, rejoined Mercier and they walked out into the fields.
"Was it really worth that much, Chauvelin?" Mercier asked after a long silence.
Chauvelin shrugged. "I'd say half that, but who am I to say? Land means nothing for me, but the Noblise is crazy about it."
The boys stopped as they saw a small group of boys out in the field circled around something. In the hopes that they had found something interesting, Chauvelin and Mercier went toward them to have a look. As soon as the other boys saw them approach, they took off and ran, leaving a small, trembling figure on the ground. They walked up, saw the poor thing and instantly got down to help.
"Coupeau! What happened?" Chauvelin asked quietly as he helped the bruised boy to his feet.
"They…they…" Coupeau's eyes filled with tears, and he leaned his head on Chauvelin's shoulder and started to cry.
Mercier took off his shirt and held it to the boy's bloody nose. "What did they do? They hit you? What?"
The boy nodded and cried harder. Gently smoothing back his hair, Chauvelin carefully lifted him on to his back and carried him back to the inn to get the sobbing thing cleaned up.
…
"Alright, what happened?" Chauvelin asked firmly as he sat across from the now clean boy at a table in the common room of the inn.
"I…Chauvelin, I…"
"What are you afraid of, Coupeau?" Mercier asked softly, gently squeezing the boy's shoulder. "We're friends. You're supposed to tell us stuff like this."
"I, well…that is to say…"
Chauvelin put his hand in the air and flagged down the innkeeper and ordered some wine. He brought the bottle and three glasses, poured it for the boys, and let them be. Slowly sipping at the content of the glass, Chauvelin said, "Alright, now you're going to tell us. Why did they beat you?"
Coupeau flushed and sunk down in his seat. "I've…I've been having a relationship with one of the miller's children."
"Have you really now?" He asked sceptically, peering at the boy intently.
"No, Chauvelin, I…" Coupeau sighed, shook his head, and gave up. "And I…we really liked each other, Chauvelin. But they found us together and…" Coupeau's eyes filled with tears again and he trembled. "And they didn't like our relationship, and…and they beat me for it…"
"And she got away?" Mercier asked, but Coupeau just nodded, blushing furiously, and said nothing more. "Are you going to see her again?"
Coupeau shook his head slowly, quietly said, "No. Never…going to be married, so we shouldn't, and…" Quickly wiping his eyes he softly asked, "Chauvelin, can we leave? I don't want to be here anymore."
Chauvelin smiled, leaned back, nodded. "Of course. I've been meaning to see Calais. I hear they speak English there, and I should like to learn it."
He smiled softly, blushed a bit. "Thank you, Chauvelin."
Chauvelin smiled slyly, looked the boy in the eyes and said nothing. Shifting slightly in the uncomfortable silence, Mercier asked, "So, what are you so smug about, Chauvelin?"
"Oh, nothing much," Chauvelin said in a singsong voice, his face becoming all the more smug. "I just find Coupeau's little love affair a bit interesting."
"Oh?" Mercier asked cautiously. "Why's that?"
Chauvelin took up his glass and downed the remainder of the wine. "Because," he said smoothly as he stood, "the miller only has sons."
Coupeau blushed furiously and sunk down in his seat and Mercier looked at the boy in shock as the child said nothing to deny. Chauvelin walked away whistling.
