Celui Que Je Désire

La Fille Du Brodeur (The Embroiderer's Daughter)

Evening's dark mantle begins to sweep swiftly over the sky. The stars have not yet shown themselves, but the insects have begun their nightly chants and chirps that now echo on the winds.

This summer has been far warmer than the year before, and the famine is still plaguing most of the country. Invaders from foreign lands have tried again and again to seize France, causing great strife and turmoil. But alas; for now, here on this estate, I am safe.

My mother, the head Brodeur for the Count Pierre d'Alençon, has been under his employ since the February before last, and surely this is the reason why we have survived this long, dreadful season. My father, God rest his soul, fell while fighting for our King during the Hundred Years' War. I was still quite young then, but I know now the burden it left on my mother was far greater than she led me to believe. We have had many losses, but living and working on the estate of our lord has been our salvation.

My mother tends to all his Count's embroidery demands, and while she has done much to teach me so that I might join in her profession, I have not yet mastered the skill. As I continue to learn, I have also been tasked with tending to the cellars and kitchens, and serving the Count at his table, mostly when he and his lady Viscountess have parties. The feasts are always grand and the drinks so fragrant.

The first evening that I served the Count and his guests, he called me into his bedchamber after, along with three other women. The lord takes his pleasure as he desires it, and we are all at his disposal. He had allowed and even encouraged us to drink his fine wines as we began exploring each other, and I fear that much after that is quite hard for me to remember.

The second time my lord called me into his bedchamber, several other men and women were present, and the sounds and scents were overwhelming. The Count had myself and the other women play games, making us touch each other and him. He told me where to touch him, demonstrating how he wanted it done and when to do so. I learned much that night on how to please a man. The Count called for me on several occasions after, most nights ending the same. He would get so full of wine he would fall asleep until morning, still holding his limp manhood in one hand.

It has been some time since then. Myself and my mother have very recently returned from mourning the death of my elder brother, who died of a fever this past spring. The Count had kindly allowed us to return to our home in Boulogne-sur-Mer to grieve for three months, and in that time, much seems to have changed for the good here.

The people of the castle grounds are happy again, as is our lord. There is much talk about a gentleman squire that the Count befriended and has entrusted with managing his accounts, becoming one of his many liegemen. Since this change was made, it seems much has improved and the people are in high spirits.

"He is ever so handsome..." I overhear a servant girl saying in hushed tones.

"Oh, yes. Quite tall and handsome. Broad shoulders and dark hair. I cannot say that I could compare him to another man." I hear another servant girl tell.

I cannot help but give a small smile while I listen, taking the bannocks from the oven and placing them on racks to cool. The pigeon pies are baking nicely, and the lemon cakes have been garnished with sprigs of mint. The Count has ordered that we prepare a great feast for this evening. He has invited several nobles who are in his service and many of the women have been fussing over the handsome squire who has Count Pierre's favor.

"Tell me, is it true what they say about him?" I ask as I pass the two girls.

They turn to me with confusion crossing their faces, each looking to the other.

"Béatrix, do you truly not know?" the girl known as Renée asks me.

I tick my head curiously, "You must remember, I have been away mourning since this mysterious man has come into our lord's service." I remind them gently, dusting off my hands.

"What have you heard said of him? There are rumors to be sure, but certainly most are less than truth." says the other girl known as Matilda.

I cross my arms as I settle my weight to one leg, facing them both. "Oh, certainly yes. But I do wish to know more. Is he as handsome as they say?" I ask.

"Handsome, yes. I've seen him many times in the company of Count Pierre roaming the halls. He smiles when he meets your gaze." says Matilda, her cheeks flushing.

"Is it true that he is also a libertine who indulges in debauchery?" I ask as I gather cooled bannocks into a basket.

The girls snigger as they exchange glances, "He does enjoy the company of many women, as I have heard. Whether it could be called debauchery, I could not say. Tis not something that I have personally witnessed." answers Renée.

"Nor I." adds Matilda.

"Although, if Jacques Le Gris willed me to join him in his bedchamber, I would not protest." Renée remarks with a grin.

The girls giggle as I nod my head absently, continuing my tasks. The conversation eventually steers in another direction and I lose myself in my work. However, I do still wonder about this man that has made such an impression on the girls.

After an hour or so, we are all ordered to bathe and dress for the evening. I wear my finest green frock, which honestly is not anything of great worth, but it was the dress my mother had sewn and embroidered for me on my passed twentieth birth date. My long auburn hair is braided and hangs lower than my waist, swinging as I walk. Pinching my cheeks for color, I glance into the mirror back at my own hazel eyes. I look older somehow, finding I am somewhat startled at the sight of myself. Perhaps this would be a good thing?

I return to the kitchens as the torches are being lit and the smells of the feast are wafting through the air. Barrels upon barrels of wine, ale and mead are being brought into the grand hall where the Count and Viscountess have begun to welcome their noble guests. Matilda and Renée are coming back into the kitchen, catching me in their sights.

"Béatrix! He is here! Le Gris is here!" Renée calls to me in a hushed tone.

I give her a quick look in acknowledgment, trying to focus on my work at hand.

"Just wait till you see him. He will make your cheeks flush bright red." Matilda comments with a giggle.

The two young girls continued on into the kitchens to begin cleaning up. I watched them out of the corner of my eye as I gathered a pitcher and began to fill it with wine. They whispered into each other's ears, eliciting more giggles as if they were small children playing games. Although I try not to show my curiosity, I do wonder what kind of man Le Gris is to be the center of all this attention.