Chapter 2
I am tired and I am disheartened. For 14 days, perhaps more for I have lost count, I have been tirelessly travelling by foot, by horseback, by coach, or whatever means I have found necessary to get as far away from my father as possible. My former teal blue dress has become unrecognisable in its muddied and torn state whilst the golden tones of my hair no longer shimmer in the sunlight. I have not bathed and I have scarcely eaten for nothing has the taste of my mother's home cooking. As selfish as it may sound, I try not to think of her too much. I fear that I will create all sorts of dreadful scenarios within my mind concerning my father's treatment of her. She did, after all, help me escape his clutches. She put her own neck on the line to save mine. Instead, I persevere and remind myself constantly that this was all my choice; I chose to put myself in this position and live with the consequences, whatever they be.
The wind wisps up the trees and its howls rattle through my ears, the icy cold catching me from all directions as I stumble and slip upon the dusty track underfoot as I head into the very centre of Amiens. The stars above light my way, the glowing embers of the tavern lamp ahead providing me with a limited sense of relief. Above the ramshackle wooden door, the metal sign swings backward and forth to create a ghoulish atmosphere. As I near upon the door, shouts and singing from the drunkards of this little town become louder and louder to trigger a voice in my head that screams Marlene, what are you doing? Walk away. This is too dangerous but I have no choice. I must ignore that sensible little voice. I have nowhere to go, no home nor a roof over my head. The lack of food has made me weak, easily accessible to the biting wind and far from capable of spending another night out in the open. I need a bed encapsulated by four walls and a roof above my head. I need to be protected from the ever worsening weather, to be warm and comfortable, to bathe and wash the muddy residue from my hair and fingernails. One night: that's all I need.
Standing before the door of the tavern I take in a deep breath, my shoulders squaring in the motion as I hold my head high and pull my cloak tightly around my petite little build as if to hide any signs of being timid.
Why should you be worried? You're a witch. You have the power to protect yourself chimed a second voice in my head.
With pursed lips I pushed the door forward with a creak and a crunch, half expecting the battered old thing to fall off of its rusting hinges. Forward I went, squinting into the excruciating brightness that met me whilst the sound of slurred voices tried their hardest to sing old folk songs from the country. A hand tucked a loose twisting strand of my hair behind my ears as I made my way through dozens of leery expressions, whispers and pointing fingers. Never before had I been within a room so predominantly filled by men. Never before had I been in a room with any other man but my father but I endeavoured. My heart entered its fight or flight mode, beating under my chest as though it would burst free of my body for all to see. Upon the laps of some of the men sat the working women my mother would often complain about: feathers in their hair and their corsets tied so tight to portray their breasts as being larger than truth. They sneered and glared at me, obviously jealous that a pious innocent 18 year old such as me had so easily stolen the wandering eye of their punters.
Turning my head away I made my way over to the bar, making a beeline for the one gap free at the corner of the wooden structure. There I waited patiently for the landlord to finish serving his gasping customers, all the time casting a side glance at anyone who looked to be a threat.
"What can I do you for, Miss?" Came a stern and teasing voice, the landlord standing directly in front of me and casting a wink back to his buddies. He was a rundown looking fellow, ironic considering the state of his tavern. His hair was receding and failed to hide the multiple droplets of sweat rolling down his forehead. His previously white shirt was blackened with grease and dirt whilst multiple teeth were missing from his upper and lower jaw.
"I wondered if you might have a room spare? One that I could rent for the night?" I said quietly, aware that others were now listening in to our conversation at this point.
The landlord looked at me, his eyes wandering from my own and down to a part of partially exposed cleavage beneath my cloak before travelling back up again. Whilst considering my request he threw his dried up old towel over his shoulder that he had previously used to dry ale jugs, chewing on his lower lip. "Sure we've got plenty of rooms. You'll have to pay up front mind" he said after keeping me in suspense.
I nodded, a flicker of a smile appearing on my face at the prospect of having to somewhere half decent to lay my head at night. Without a word I handed over a small bag of coins, pushing it towards the landlord with a small push from my index finger.
He took the bag. Of course he did. "Top of the stairs. First room on the left" He said sternly, taking the bag and wandering back towards his impatient customers.
"Merci" I called after him, my voice trailing off as I realised he wasn't the slightest bit bothered in my thanks. This was nothing but business.
I turned on my heels, heading through another door just beside the bar that led to a rickety old staircase, the wood clearly rotting under foot. I climbed to the top in a steady and incredibly cautious manner, aware that my foot could go through the step at any time. My trembling fingers held on to the bannister, my greeted teeth chattering as nerves somewhat took over me. Upon the last step I leaped to safety, inhaling and exhaling rapidly after having held my breath for so long in suspense.
After a moment of recuperation I started to scan the dimly lit landing, immediately clapping eyes on the first door on the left and my haven for the night. Or so I had hoped.