By Mia Suda.
Part I
The scent of soft lavender cut through the thick and heavy stench of smoke, drifting from the nearby village, no doubt. Houses, men, women, children, livestock—all slaughtered while fighting for their freedom. It had been occurring more and more. With every fire, a sense of foreboding grew within the small town of Angers. News had spread from Paris that there was an increase in the number of villages revolting. There was no longer a day when the town square was not filled, packed with revolutionaries handing out flyers for the next meeting and what to expect.
Eloise couldn’t remember what peace was anymore, she just longed for one moment of peace and quiet amidst the towering, ancient trees, full of wisdom and old knowledge. As the day drew on, more herbs were picked, filling her nose with the sweet scent of jasmine, rosemary, and mint. The town apothecary had specifically requested them for a patient.
‘To heal their soul, sweetheart,’ the apothecary had replied whimsically, appearing to drift away on a cloud across the store.
She was a slight woman from the church, with whispers of white staining the chestnut coils that framed her face. Eloise shared the same coil-like hair; however, that was where the similarities ended. Where Eloise was reserved and poetic, the apothecary was outspoken with an adventurous spirit and always seemed to have stories up her sleeve to tell the young apprentice.
A rustle in the nearby blackberry shrub yanked Eloise out of her reminiscing. She looked up to find the barrel of a musket pointed directly at her, and she blanched in fear as she slowly raised herself up onto her knees to get a better look at who was pointing the gun at her.
‘What are you doing, girl? This is my land. Best leave now before your mother finds your body displayed in the town square.’
As she glanced up to observe the shooter, the earthy and heady smell of oak and chestnuts hit her nostrils, and she saw the glint of recognition in his eyes. It was him. The boy had come into the apothecary’s shop numerous times before, demanding a salve or an herb. Eloise always rushed to get him what he needed and fussed over the boy. She smirked at him as she realised that he wouldn’t dare hurt her. He was Etienne, the lord’s son, a strong boy a few years older than her. She had seen him go riding with the servants who worked at the manor. It always warmed her heart, watching the children’s faces light up like Christmas baubles when they each got a ride on a pony. They were lucky – she had heard of plenty of lords who treated their servants cruelly. According to the apothecary, he was a smart and kind boy at heart.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but I didn’t realise this was your land.’ She didn’t try to hide the smarminess in her voice. That prick deserved it. ‘You see, I’m currently in the woods, which is a space where I am allowed to be, at least according to the lord, so if you have an issue, sir, I suppose you can take it up with him. Until he instructs the villagers otherwise, I have every right to go about collecting my herbs for the healer.’
‘Oh, what a shame, then. Thank you though, girl. You’ve reminded me. I must talk to my father about enacting a ban on impoverished folk entering the forest. It’s just such a lovely area, and I would hate it for it to be permeated by poor peasants. I suggest you get what you need and scram before I change my mind about a potential little “accident” I must report.’
Without another word, he turned on his polished heel and left. As Eloise started her walk back home, she hoped this wouldn’t be the last time that she ran into Etienne.
Part II
It had been three weeks since her last run-in with Etienne, and she felt restless. She hadn’t told the church about her encounter. The church was only supposed to interact sparingly with the lords, if they found out she had met and talked back to the lord’s son, she would never hear the end of it. Instead, she kept her head down and continued to assist in the preparations for the upcoming revolution.
She could feel the townsfolk getting antsy. The prices for harvest had considerably increased. The people were hungry and frustrated. Eloise had heard from the apothecary that a meeting was going to be called, with a revolt being planned to invade the lord’s home and make him surrender. She hoped that the lord was a reasonable man and would surely be happy to negotiate, but she knew the rest of the town remained sceptical. The meeting was set for that night in the town square, and Eloise was instructed to attend alongside the apothecary in case of any injuries.
Eloise was brought back down to earth as she tasted blood in her mouth. The raucous atmosphere that permeated the town square that night made her anxious and she was known to unknowingly bite her cheek when she got nervous. Too many people shoving each other around—there was bound to be a couple of scrapes and cuts by the end of the night. She sighed to herself and made her way to the edge of the crowd when something caught her eye. A broad, dark hat that clearly bore no resemblance to the wool, Phrygian hats the rest of the villagers wore. Someone was trying to blend in. An imposter.
She scanned the crowd, trying to figure out who it could be. Eloise had always been taught, and preferred, to stay quiet but she couldn’t resist knowing the truth. As she crept closer, her coal-black shoes caught on a loose stone in the cobblestones. She stumbled forward and landed directly in the chest of none other than Etienne, the mysterious stranger who had been lurking in the shadows.
‘What are you doing here? Here to no doubt report what goes on back to your father?’ She hissed at him and snatched the hat off his head, almost falling as she tried to reach for the small moleskin notebook Eloise noticed in his hands.
‘No. I am here to observe the state of the town and see if there is any way I can help, so if you don’t mind, I’ll take my hat back. Thank you very much.’ He took his hat back as he chided her and started to move to a new spot in the crowd.
‘Wait! Etienne!’ The air crackled with electricity as he looked back towards her and made eye contact. She knew she had to ask him.
‘Yes?’ he whispered with a grin, waiting for her question.
‘Uhm…. Uh…’ The words caught in her throat as heat rose to her cheeks and her heart raced with anticipation. ‘Why would you want to help the town of Angers? You seem particularly intent on looking down on us.’
‘Well, Eloise, that’s the mystery, isn’t it?’ Without warning, he turned around and walked back towards his home with his book filled with notes.
Part III
It was time to invade the lord’s house. They knew the risks were high, but they were prepared to do whatever it took to succeed. After all, they knew there would be plenty of food and fresh water available. Eloise and the apothecary set up a base back in the village, where they would undoubtedly treat many for injuries.
As they prepared for the influx of patients, Eloise felt a sense of purpose and determination to make a difference in the lives of those in need. Together, her and the apothecary were ready to face whatever challenges came their way, knowing that they were making a positive impact on the community. Eloise decided that if she made it through this revolt, she needed to do something in her future to help people.
‘Remember dear, we are to treat all injuries from all people, whether they are servants from the lord’s manner or if they are village folk. Everyone deserves to be treated equally and receive care. Do you understand?’ The apothecary queried as she laid out clean cotton balls and bandages across their makeshift counter.
Eloise nodded in agreement, understanding the importance of their mission. She admired the apothecary’s dedication to providing care to all, regardless of their status in society.
‘ Yes, I under-‘
She was cut off by a resounding bang that echoed throughout the village. This was only the beginning. This would change everything.
As the day went on, more and more injured villagers arrived and were stitched together by Eloise. As midday approached, someone came running up, carrying a body, bridal-style, and dumped them onto one of the makeshift beds. Eloise went white as a sheet when she realised who it was.
‘Oh, my goodness! Etienne! What happened?’ She said softly as the apothecary started to douse warm water over his wounds.
‘I- I’m sorry. I stood up…to my father…’ His voice trembled as he fell unconscious.
Part IV
‘Marie, call in my next client, please. I’m ready to speak to them.’ She rang the bell to usher her assistant Marie out of her office and into the reception of her building.
After the revolution had ended, she had begged her mother to send her to a school to learn more advanced things. Many discussions and meetings later, her mother had allowed the church to teach her the ways and wonders of the new world. Eloise had gone to Paris after the Terror, changing her name to Emilie and opened her own legal office, helping the poorer folk in Paris with writing papers and getting affairs sorted. After everything she witnessed, she always remembered how Etienne stood up against his father for the villagers back in Angers.
The old door to her office creaked open, and the smell that drifted in from the wide-open hallway made her pause. One of oakwood and chestnuts. A familiar scent. One that made her heart race and butterflies flutter in her stomach. But her heart sank deep into her chest as she smelt a more subtle, gentle smell of rosebuds lingering in the air as Etienne finally emerged from the bright hallway into the darkened wood office, with another girl.
She tried to hide the look of pain that flashed across her face and offered them both a glass of water. They politely declined.
‘So, how can I help you with my services today? I’ll start with your name, please, madame.’ She kept her tone professional and friendly. She couldn’t afford to lose a customer.
‘My name is Rosalie, and this is my husband, Etienne. We have just gotten a certificate of marriage from the town hall and we were now looking to write a will for our children, as we do not expect to live much longer in our day and age.’ This woman was slightly larger, and she wondered to herself if Etienne had made a rude comment to her about it when they had met.
‘Of course I can help with that. It would be my pleasure! Just sign these two documents, and we will get started on what you would like to say, dear. Congratulations!’ She kept her tone as even and pleasant as possible throughout the next hour as she wrote out everything that would be determined after their passings.
‘I would like to speak to Emilie about something dear, so I’ll meet you outside with the documents, okay? Merci Mon Cherie.’ He spoke in a clear, authoritative tone, and the woman left them alone.
Her heart was beating a million miles a minute.
‘So, you’re married now, Étienne? When did this happen?’ She whispered as tears ran down her face.
‘Yes. Since the end of the revolution.’ His voice was distant, emotionless. Nothing like the young, cocky man she remembered.
‘Are you happy? What do you do now?’ She pushed, wanting more than just curt answers from the boy she never thought she’d see again.
‘I am happy, Emilie. What I do now is not your concern. Thank you for your assistance today. Rosalie and I will be returning to you as clients.’ His gruff voice echoed in the small room that felt like it was shrinking by the minute. ‘Be well. We will return next week. Goodbye, Emilie.’ He finally whispered as he turned his back towards her and started for the door.
‘Goodbye, Etienne.’ She didn’t let him hear the crack in her voice as her knees crumpled and hit the wood floor. Au revoir…
