If travelling by sea was my favourite way to journey, then going by carriage up a steep mountain cliff was my least. Through the maze of stone, we twisted, each turn driving us further into the labyrinthine mountains until we could see only the forest below and the elaborate walls of stone.
A few boulders fell into the gorge on our left, their plunge into the abyss echoing through the enormous chasms and rumbling long after they had detached from the mountain giants.
As the carriage drew further north it grew colder. Monsieur Picoux offered to drive when Papa grew tired and did so expertly as if he had manoeuvred one many times before.
Inside, we weren't faring much better. Although my sisters and I had not been the closest of companions in the beginning, the cold drove us together. Elbows were shoved into faces, and legs were quickly tangled as we tried to share a quilt amongst the three of us.
As soon as we had gotten comfortable in our close quarters, there came a shout from Papa.
"Take a look outside, mes chéries!"
We glanced out the window, our gaze immediately drawn to the edge of the light, where we caught glimpses of the village. It nestled into the crook of a valley, balanced between the shoulder of many mountains. A blue ravine snaked along the eastern edge and disappeared back into the emerald sea of evergreens and chestnut trees.
"It looks wonderful!" Régine shouted back out the window.
Papa gave a laugh and Monsieur Picoux joined him.
The carriage bumped along the rock-filled pathway. The forest, despite my initial impression of danger and misfortune, was beautiful, with little patches of sunlight filtering through the leaves.
Dusek, the village, was a sizeable looking settlement of twenty or so wooden houses, all scattered over some distance with a few bearing crops of land. They weren't as big as the fields we had seen on the other side of the mountain pass, but it was lovely and full of life.
I had gotten out of the carriage and along with Papa, guided the work horses by the reins.
During our walk down the street, I felt the heat from a pair of eyes staring at me. There was a group of older looking boys, a couple of them throwing pebbles at one another as they ran to their houses.
In fact, just as the sun had begun to descend into the jagged horizon, I noticed that the few people who had been outside during our arrival were now gone. The village streets were empty.
"How strange," Belle whispered delicately.
I felt it too and tucked myself close against the nuzzle of one of the work horses. I had been so preoccupied by the unsettling air of the abandoned village that I didn’t see the body standing in front of me and promptly stumbled into a pant leg.
I looked around in fright, and then straight up to behold a pair of piercing blue eyes.
"Are these guests of yours, Gerard?" a deep, baritone voice rumbled.
I jumped back and was immediately confronted by an enormous man with a weather-beaten face hidden behind a white beard, heavy grey eyebrows and a stern expression.
From on top of the carriage, Monsieur Picoux laughed with a little upstart and bobbed his head. “Yes Father, they helped me when my horse gave out on the way from the city.”
The old man looked nothing like Gerard. He was best described as a bear who had shaved off half its fur and managed to put on clothes. Although not very clean ones.
Gerard’s supposed father was so tall and broad that we almost didn't take notice of the woman standing behind him.
“My dearest!” the woman exclaimed and emerged from behind the giant woodsman. “Whatever happened to your leg?” she asked, gesturing to the makeshift splint my sisters had fashioned.
"Ah, and this is my wife, Marguerite." Gerard’s look of nervousness became more pronounced with beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.
The woman was dressed in a fine golden skirt, made from shimmering satin which had skeins of beads dangling from the ends. She wore lots of jewellery around her neck, large earrings hanging from her small ears and long strawberry blonde hair fell past her shoulders.
“You’ll have time for greetings inside,” the old man said in a low voice. The blazing sky began to dim, his face as rough and unrelenting as granite. "We best get going before sunset."
I watched him warily as the behemoth stomped to the back of the carriage and picked up our only trunk which he balanced on his broad shoulders.
Without much fuss, we were led into one of the nearby houses. It was smaller than we were used to, but held a feeling of warmth and security, with a bright fire burning under the chimney and a table sitting in the middle of the drawing room.
Gerard’s father, Gaston, lugged both himself and the huge trunk through the door and speedily slammed it shut.
"Whoever fashioned these bandages did a masterful job," Marguerite said and began undressing Gerard's leg. "You four look very tired, I'll have some food made immediately after I finish with my husband's leg."
"We are grateful for the invitation," Papa said, hesitation resonating in his voice, "but I cannot pay you much."
"Keep your money, this is about hospitality," said Monsieur Picoux.
"But… you don't even know us," Papa began. He was still a man with pride, even if he hadn’t been able to take anything else from his old life.
"I must confess I have an ulterior motive." Monsieur Picoux's eyes softened as he relaxed into his chair without putting much weight on his bad leg. “Over these last few days I've recognized the accent, your speech. You have the cadence of an educated man.”
Papa nodded his head humbly, although were my father a little more prideful he would have said he used to be a very wealthy one. "I am... familiar with legal matters at court and in the markets."
Madam Picoux returned to the drawing room with a steaming cup of broth and handed it to my father.
"I manage a business in Port Libor, often times on my own and I have to be there by the end of the season to receive our largest shipment of the year… but I cannot make the journey in my condition." Gerard took his own cup as his wife offered it and sipped sparingly at the contents.
"I know you to be a good man of strong character in need of an opportunity.” Gerard Picoux clasped his hands together. “I gladly offer you a job and partnership… although it would require you leave for Port Libor as soon as possible."
At first the droning of business talk had failed to attract my interest, but now I was terrified. What Monsieur Picoux proposed was incredible, and he knew we were in no condition to refuse.
“That is very generous of you.” My father’s thin, calloused fingers threaded themselves through my hair and then over my sagging shoulder as I leaned against his side. “I accept.”
"The wages will be small to start." Monsieur Picoux gave a thoughtful smile. "But given enough time, you will be able to afford a place of your own. Until then, you’re welcome to stay here."
They leaned in, shaking hands in front of the slow-burning fire.
However, there was an unpleasant air of silence after the handshake and something seemed to be looming in the very back of the conversation.
Papa gently caressed my hair as he laid me down on the bridge of his legs. "Your father was very insistent on getting inside as soon as possible.”
"I can see that he may have unnerved you. I'm afraid living so deep in the wood, people grow a little peculiar." Monsieur Picoux smirked bitterly, and I suspected for a moment that he held something back.
“Perhaps, when you have lived in Dusek for as long as I, you will come to understand." Monsieur Picoux poked at the fire once more. “But it’s a good place for families, good people and young children.”
Marguerite’s gaze turned to me and I froze. "And what might your name be, little one?"
I gulped down on my sore throat as I sat up, but I was determined to keep my name, in some form, at least.
"Acel." I nodded firmly.
"Acel," Father whispered as he patted my hair back. He rocked to the left and whispered under his breath. "You know that's a boy's name, chérie?"
Oh... I didn't... but I nodded my head 'yes' anyway.
"How suitable," Marguerite said as she crossed her legs in a creaky rocking chair alongside her husband’s. "It means little noble one."
I threaded my fingers together in the lap of my dress.
"Clearly your Mama had something special in mind," Marguerite glanced out the black diamond windowpanes. "I’m excited to see what you hold in store for us."
I nodded again, grinning.
Acel it was then.
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