CHAPTER THREE: Flight
Auguste and I shared many adventures together. He taught me French, and I was very surprised to know that he was a very educated boy. With his father being a hunter I hadn't expected much from him, but one day as he was sharing to me more about his family I made a shocking discovery: before he went bankrupt, Auguste's father was a professor at a university in Rouen! I dared not to ask him the event that turned his father into a criminal…
Auguste showed me his hideout in which he hid all of the items he stole from shops and nobles' houses. His home was an underground room below a local tavern dimly lighted by small oil lanterns. I found it quite clever – as we approached the backside of the tavern, Auguste pushed a few barrels and crates out of the way to reveal a small, wooden sliding door. We entered, and I smiled on how cozy his chamber was. It was only wide enough to allow Auguste to lie down, and I knew if I were to stay here with him I would have to sleep in a fetal position. It didn't bother me, though, as Auguste was my only friend and I was to be loyal to him.
He presented me all of these fascinating books about mythology, poetry, and alchemy. Of course there were many more, but those were some of my favorites. We read aloud our favorite poems every night to one another, and compare them. In the end we would be giggling till we keeled over and our guts wailed in pain.
On one of our many jovial times watching the nobles stroll the streets while people almost dumped their chamber pots on them, Auguste stopped and began to stare at me awkwardly.
"Is something wrong?" I said in between laughs.
"Yes…well, no… erm, I was just thinking…"
"Yes?" I chuckled at his tone.
"It's just that…you're basically wearing rags."
I almost snorted and retorted back to him, "well look at yourself," but before the words could slip out of my curled mouth I stood for a moment and scanned Auguste. He was actually…decent, for a homeless orphan. He had a nice linen shirt and soft cotton breeches. When I looked at myself I was truly horrifying – I had a deteriorating and thrashed tunic made from animal skin that was tied at my waste with a pathetic cloth belt. He had a point.
"Well…what can we do about that? This is the only thing I have and trying to steal fabrics would be like suicide," I puffed out my nostrils.
Auguste smirked. "You know, I don't steal all of my essential items." He grabbed my hand and led me down a street to a small building that said, "Mademoiselle Amelie Bonnefoy; the seamstress." I glanced at him.
"Are you sure–"
"Yes! I'm positive," he chuckled, "I know Amelie very well. She's like a mother to me."
I swallowed and Auguste led me into the store. I did not know why I was so uneasy about this, but I went with what he said. After all, Auguste was my dear friend and he'd never let me down before. When we entered, small bells from the door handle jingled softly and a young woman at a spinning wheel looked up to see who had arrived.
She was a fair maiden; with pale skin and blonde hair. I marveled at her shining gray eyes, and tried to restrain myself from staring too awkwardly.
"Oh yes," said Amelie, smiling slyly, "'tis the brave hunter's son. I was expecting you to arrive sometime soon."
"What made you anticipate that?" For some reason I could picture Auguste's cheeks flushing pink under his mask.
Amelie shrugged. "Oh – nothing really. I had just woven some fine rolls of lavender colored silk, and I thought it'd make a nice shawl for you."
I couldn't help but snicker; Amelie's teasing was very amusing to me. I saw Auguste's fists tighten with embarrassment.
"Ahem. Anyways, I uh… did actually come here for some rolls of fabric."
The seamstress began to push her foot rhythmically on the pedal of the spinning wheel and almost interrupted Auguste as she asked, "Who's your friend?"
"Oh yeah," Auguste exclaimed, and just by how he spoke I knew he was beaming from ear to ear. "This is my friend Marienbard. She's from Ireland and her dad is part of that whole mercenary issue."
I knew he felt my reticent at the topic by how my hand twitched, brushing barely up against him, and he gently wrapped a soft, warm hand around mine. I tried not to help it, but the feeling of the blood rushing to my cheeks gave it away against my dead-pale skin. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice – or so I thought.
"Ah…yes," her voice was not as sorrowful as it was comforting. Amelie's mischievous grin had softened into a sympathetic smile; the way her long eyelashes just barely lingered over her smoke-colored eyes made me feel at ease, and as if I was in the presence of an angel. The way she worked the spinning wheel made it look as though she were plucking the strings of a harp. Auguste stepped over to Amelie.
He muttered, "I was hoping to show her my friendship by giving her some new clothes." It was audible enough for me to hear, so I blushed.
Amelie's shoulders shrugged in a laughing manor, and her foot stopped on the pedal. She rose from her chair and motioned her arm to me, giving off the most cordial smile I had ever seen. With such a warm welcome I could not refuse, so I almost immediately stepped over; yet with a cool demeanor, as I did not want to show too much excitement in getting new clothes or having Amelie's attention focused on me. She led me to a room that was covered by curtains.
"M-make sure it's silk," Auguste called before Amelie let the curtains fall. She smirked.
"Yes, Auguste. Browse as you please while I prepare Marienbard." I loved the way she had pronounced my name. Such elegance.
Amelie enclosed us into a circular room, where fabrics of every kind laid about aimlessly – silk, cotton; those were the only ones I recognized since I was so overwhelmed. She motioned to a small platform in the middle of the room for me to stand on, and Amelie asked for me to take off my tunic.
My cheeks blushed profusely at my indecency, but luckily as I was undressing Amelie had her back turned, going through different colors of silk, and stopped at the rolls of white.
"I think this would be an excellent tone on you," she said while rolling out the fabric and wrapping it around my waist and torso, "your body shape is wonderful."
My mouth almost fell agape at her comment, but I stopped myself and peered down my chest, noticing she was exactly correct; two round lumps had appeared against the silk that almost made me shriek with confidence – I even looked more a lady than Catriona did!
Amelie noticed the excitement in my eyes, and chuckled. "White is the color of reverence; esteem, honor, also one of innocence, birth, peace, and the good. I thought it suited you… but then again it is also one for cold and winter. I saw you more of a spring…" She began to walk towards the other silk colors.
"N-no," I exclaimed. "Winter is something that really…defines me. I… I love the cold. It was my only friend before I met Auguste…" For some reason I wished those words hadn't come out of my mouth, yet she seemed to understand.
"I see. In that case…" Amelie began to file through the articles of cloth. "Ivory for unification? No… perhaps yellow, for hope. Then again…yellow is also the one for betrayal and deceit. Hm…Lavender? Turquoise?" She bit her lip, and then snapped. "Ah! Of course. Tsk. How did I skip this?"
The seamstress surprised me by presenting a lovely, bright shade of orange. She stroked the silk lovingly, as a warrior would to her dear sword. "Orange; energy, balance, enthusiasm, warmth…it is such a vibrant and flamboyant color; easily demanding attention."
I thought it was perfect.
Amelie began to work her magic – and in what only seemed a small amount of mere minutes, she was finished. Studying my appearance in her looking glass, I was ultimately pleased; comfortable white, silk breaches had my legs and stopped above my stomach, starting the hem-line of another white silk blouse, which at the sleeves were ruffled. Amelie had tied orange ribbons at the ends of my breaches, and suddenly handed me a blue bodice. I stared at her.
"Blue symbolizes tranquility, trust, and truth. I thought it would suit this outfit very well," she stated. I beamed at her.
"Oh… and there was one more thing I wanted to do…" Amelie ran a hand through a strand of my long, emerald hair.
Auguste's mouth fell aghast – that I could tell even from behind his mask – when I stepped out of Amelie's workroom in my new attire. "Marienbard, you look stunning! And your hair; a French braid!" He laughed. "Now you're a citizen of Rouen!" I blushed and fiddled with my braid that sat on my shoulder.
"Thanks," was all I could manage to utter out. I was more stunned by my appearance than anyone else; and my self-esteem had shot off like a Roman Candle. Amelie was smiling, but out of the corner of my eye I saw it fade the longer she stared at us. She blinked and stepped over to her desk to set her scissors down, then grasped our attention with a serious, "I need to speak with you" gaze.
"Auguste... Marienbard… How old are you two now?"
He answered seventeen and I said fifteen. Amelie put a hand over her mouth and shook her head in a grim way. "I can't take it. I just can't take it – I want you two to stay with me, for now on. At least at night… I don't know. I just… it feels like I have to be a mother to you."
Auguste snorted. "A mother who is only a mere…mayhap…ten years older than us? Well, she wasn't a maiden for long, heh." I snickered at his note, yet Amelie's expression made no change.
"You aren't a jester, Auguste," came her sharp reply, and our smirks instantly faded along with our sense of humor at the moment. "You are an orphan. You both are…and you shouldn't be taking care of yourselves."
I swallowed, having a large yet strange urge to blurt out that I wasn't an orphan and I was going to find my father in Germany. But what was the point in that? We would have nothing to go back to once reunited, as my mother and my sisters were frail – yet Amelie had been right on her philosophy somewhere. At the moment I was in presence of no parent, and no matter which way I turned – to Ireland or to Germany – I was well out of reach, therefore had no protection; no parental protection, at that. I felt very safe with Auguste by my side. Either way, I definitely had the sympathy for an orphan.
"Please, I just don't want to risk you two being hurt." At her plead I thought myself that I didn't want her being hurt if we refused, so I nodded my head. Not even waiting for Auguste's approval, Amelie threw herself onto us and wrapped her arms around our necks.
"Oh, thank you. I feel as though all the stress has been lifted off my shoulders."
"You…really care about is that much?" Auguste dared to ask the question, though it was in no term of sarcasm whatsoever.
"Absolutely."
The word was but a gasp of breath on Amelie's pink lips, but it was enough to make a tear crawl out of my eye and my thoughts to final focus in that I was now, truly and utterly, at home.