No Revolution For You

By Linda J.

CH 7

Denise never imagined being alive could feel so nice. The sun seemed brighter than ever before. The breeze was fresher and the smell of the flowers were sweeter too. Everything around her, the grass, the trees, even the earth under her paws had taken on a new sense of vitality. 'Just a little bit further, I've been gone for only a minute maybe two,' she thought as she rushed into the nearby woods and pastures. 'Just a little further; I haven't gone very far.'

Part of the way she ran on her hind legs, other times she ran on all fours, occasionally pausing to smell the air or flop herself in a heap of wildflowers in a carefree manner. For a while, she lay on her back then rolled over and picked a dandelion to blow its seeds in the air and sighed in contentment. 'Well, maybe a little further, I'm not very far from home.'

"Fify?" the former maestro's hypnotic voice echoed off the walls of the large and lofty music room as he quietly strolled inside. He looked around intently and in mild disgust waiting for a response that never came. This had once been his domain as if it was his personal castle within the castle. Now, he was nothing but a lowly servant come to beg forgiveness from yet another lowly servant.

'Replace me?' Forte could barely bring himself to consider the idea as he continued to stroll around the cluttered room full of musical instruments, music stands, stacks of paper and books. Strangely the idea of his apprentice taking over his role in the castle really didn't bother him all those years he spent away in the cave, he was happy where he was back then and happy with what he was. Now? He sighed aloud and once again began to lament his return to humanity.

He then saw the desk which had once belonged to him in the same corner where it had always been. He noticed the inkwell and quill on the desk were the very same ones he had used when he had been the master. Slowly, even cautiously, he walked toward the desk and found a sheet of newly written music. He picked up the sheet and began to skeptically examine the notes playing the tune in his head. Gradually he came to the conclusion the naive boy had some legitimate talent after all in spite the fact the melody was far too cheerful for his taste.

'He learned this from me?' Forte asked himself, halfway pleased with what he held in his hand. Suddenly, he heard a soft cough come from behind him.

Forte whirled around and saw a small, frail-looking woman standing quietly in the doorway. He felt somewhat awkward being there in front of a young lady wearing nothing but a borrowed undershirt and breeches. He recognized the woman from the night before, it was Fife's wife. "Rosalie, isn't it?"

The petite young woman softly nodded her head and began to slowly walk in. "I'm looking for my husband, have you seen… ah!" suddenly the woman bent over in pain, gasping for air.

Forte's eyes became the size of teacup saucers. "Oh no!" he gasped under his breath.

He quickly found her a chair and helped her to sit down.

"Thank you sir," the woman meekly whispered. "The, the pains began about an hour ago."

"Marvelous," Forte grumbled irritatedly. "Well, you just sit right here; let me go find your husband for you. I'm sure he's just around the... "

Suddenly Rosalie reared back in her chair and gave a blood-curdling scream. "I, I think it's coming!"

"NOW!? NO! No, no, no!" he shook his head as he began to sweat and back away from the woman in sheer terror. Forte wanted nothing more than to leave this situation at once. Fife was the one who wanted to watch Rosalie give birth, certainly not him!

'Fife.' Forte suddenly thought of how much influence the current court composer must have with the royal family and hesitated to flee. Rosalie tried to stand up but began to waver as she stood. Forte then grabbed and held her close to help steady her when all of a sudden, a massive gush of water came rushing out from her body.

"Oh good heavens, it's everywhere!" he cried aloud, cringing as a sick look came over Forte's face as he felt the warm ooze of the woman's womb water soak his shoes. He intended to put her right back in the chair but Rosalie would have none of it. "I, ah!" she gripped his hand so tightly he thought she would break it. "I, I have to lie d-down."

"Suit yourself, dear woman," Forte spoke impatiently as he helped her lower herself to the floor.

He raised his head and voice, hoping to catch someone's attention outside the in the hall. "Anyone out there!? Anyone!? There's a woman in labor!"

Again, he bellowed loudly. "I said, anyone out there? This woman needs help!"

Forte pried his hand away from her and began to move quickly to the doorway. 'Any other time there would be an army of servants just around the corner!' he thought to himself.

He looked back at Rosalie who was panting for her breath.

"I…" he tried to think of a quick excuse to leave. "I will go find someone for you. Your husband, yes? Yes. I will look for Fife immediately! He said he wanted to be in here with you."

Rosalie looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Good sir, don't leave me alone," she almost sobbed. "I'm afraid."

"Nonsense," he desperately tried to comfort her as he made another attempt to leave. "What's there to be afraid of?"

"I'm afraid we'll die," she spoke of herself and baby as she halfway screamed and halfway cried.

Forte offered no reply as he turned his back to her, fully intending to make a fast exit, but just as his foot crossed the threshold, something screamed inside his head, "Walk away from her now and Fife will NEVER forgive you!"

Forte's other foot hung in mid-air, still determined to step out into the hallway and make a run for it. But instead, much to his own surprise, he grabbed both sides of the doorway and turned his head to look back at Rosalie.

"Stop that crying this instant!" he angrily barked as he looked over his shoulder. Silently he turned and whisked over and knelt down before her as she instinctively pulled her skirt up as she began to lean back propping up her knees while she gasped hysterically for air. "Do you want this baby or not?" he snapped at her.

Tears were rolling down her pleading face. "Of course I do," she whimpered.

"Then might I suggest you get ahold of yourself and stop all this foolish hysterics at once," he sneered. "You will need all your strength and concentration if you want to get through this."

Forte's harsh words worked and Rosalie began to quiet down.

'How hard can this be?' Forte asked himself as he searched his pockets for the penknife Lumiere had given him earlier. True, he hadn't the slightest idea of what he was doing, but he had never failed at anything before, even if he knew nothing about what he was doing. "I don't understand why humans need to make such a fuss over this," he complained as he took the knife and began to cut away at the woman's underclothing. "Animals do this very thing in the wild all on their own mind you."

He decided he would need more light, so he got up and retrieved an oil lamp which he lit and placed on a nearby chair. Forte then focused on the woman's lap and saw a small object bulging from her vagina. 'Is that the head?'

He tilted his head a bit, feeling strangely curious at the sight even though he was now trembling. The object between her legs moved slightly as she began to push. 'Yes, definitely the head.'

He then put his hand gently under the bulge, to help the baby come out safely. Rosalie pushed again and then once more; finally, the baby was out and in Forte's waiting hands. He stared down at this tiny human, too overwhelmed with amazement to think about anything else. He looked at the mother than back at the child. "A boy," he was pleased to announce. "My dear, you have a son."

Suddenly Fife appeared along with the doctor who had rushed into the room.

"Rosie!" the young musician yelped as he immediately went to his wife's side. The doctor took the baby and began to cut the umbilical cord as Forte flopped himself onto his backside for a rest. Then, as if they had materialized from thin air, more servant's began to pour into the room to see what was happening, including Mrs. Potts.

"Oh NOW all of you show up?!" Forte mocked as the excitement quickly wore itself into exhaustion. "Where the hell were any of you when I called out for help?"

"Sorry dear, most of the staff have gone to look for the princess," Mrs. Potts explained. "We were downstairs when we heard you yelling at the top of your lungs and we came as fast as we could."

"Really?" he seemed genuinely surprised by her response. "It seemed as though I was alone with her for hours!"

"Oh my!" gasped Mrs. Potts. She couldn't help but notice he was a horrible mess, seeing water, blood and only God knew what else splattered all over him. "You didn't actually deliver the baby, did you?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?" He rolled his eyes and rudely retorted. "It just happens that I immensely enjoy wearing other people's body fluids."

Mrs. Potts placed her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes in return but did softly smile at the quirky man instead. "Well, it was a very compassionate thing you did."

Forte looked over at Fife and Rosalie as they now snuggled together, holding their quiet baby between them. He smiled, feeling pleased that the whole ordeal was over and more importantly that he had played a large role in something positive for a change. "Yes," he spoke softly.

"I suppose it was."

Potts nudged him with her foot to get up off the floor. "Now, go get yourself cleaned up," she told him as they made their way out of the music room. "And I'll have a nice pot of tea waiting for you're all cleaned up."

"Tea?!" Forte sounded repulsed by the idea. "Good God woman! This calls for brandy!"

"Fine. I'll see to it that there's a nice large snifter of the castle's best brandy waiting for you when you are ready to present yourself." Mrs. Potts assured him as they began to go their separate ways.

"Oh, and a cigar!" he yelled to her from a few feet away.