The Wolf and the Rose

Prologue

It was early morning, and the port city of Brest had not yet awakened. Ships were moored along the harbor; very few were active on the river at this time. A young man slipped out an alleyway and hurried to the docks. He was sinewy and spry but lanky, as if his body had not yet filled out to resemble his strength. Beneath an old cocked hat, two eager brown eyes surveyed the docks and a giddy, smiling mouth brightened a tawny and amply freckled face. He looked like a lad looking for trouble, but he was considerably well-groomed for any such character. He wore his Sunday clothes—a dark green ditto suit (almost a decade out of style but well kept), a stiff white cravat and white stockings, and shoes with paste buckles that were shined as much as they could be. His hair, brown and thick, was tied away neatly from his face by a black ribbon. He had even made an attempt to style his unruly locks into fashionable curls.

The young man pulled a long item from his coat pocket and gave it a nervous glance before putting it back. He pulled it out a few more times to look at it before resolving to keep it in his pocket. It was a busk, lovingly carved from driftwood and inscribed with words the lad would blush to say aloud, yet he meant every word earnestly. The busk was meant for a young lady, the daughter of an officer in the king's navy. The lady was, as most daughters of officers were, a noblewoman of the Second Estate, while the lad was a poor commoner of the Third Estate, yet she loved him anyway. They had devised to meet together in a secret spot, far from the prying eyes of noblemen and common folk— a spot across the Penfeld where she should be waiting for him now.

The lad hastily checked his watch (her gift to him) in the moonlight— good, he would be on time— then slipped into his rowboat and untied the moorings. He hadn't made a full rotation with his oars when his boat hit something behind him with a soft thud. In his excited state, he started then, sobering from the start, laid down his oars to see what he had hit. A gasp escaped his mouth as his eyes caught sight of the hindrance. It was a body.