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Gaston - Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2022-03-16 07:06:45 +0000 UTC----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Kingdom of France: 1364 A.D.
Since 1346 A.D., Europe had been caught in the grip of a terrible plague. Europe’s population was scourged. Many wondered: was this a punishment from God? Indeed, it was as if the grim reaper itself had descended to walk amongst men. Young, old, commoner or noble – all were reaped equally.
That is, until a mysterious doctor, wearing a mask like the head of a crow, had arrived at Pope Clement VI’s court. He shared many obscure and unknowable medical insights with the church, calling himself a messenger from God. He informed them that the black plague came from the devil’s vermin: rats, mice, fleas and ticks. These things had to be killed on sight, and their corpses burned.
He also told them of preventative measures that any man could do: avoiding the sick, practicing proper hygiene and so on. The black plague had been brought to heel… or so they thought. Unfortunately, these instructions were only followed by the nobility. Masses of peasants still continued to die excruciating deaths.
More than a decade had passed with the disease showing no signs of stopping. The monarchies were being ground to a halt under the devastating effects of the illness. Fanatical doom preachers stood on every street corner, heralding the end times. People rioted in the streets, worsening the spread and hanging anyone who dare oppose them. Small skirmishes constantly broke out between countries, keeping the military preoccupied.
Still, there were many isolated villages which were mostly spared from the having to watch the world burn down around them. Villeneuve was such a village. It sat hidden within one of Europe’s endless forests.
Currently, the village was struck by a mighty storm. Overwhelming bursts of thunder and lightning struck the tallest trees in the nearby woods, charring them black and setting them on fire. Some thinner examples burst outright when touched by the searing, heavenly power.
Gale-force winds blasted through the empty town streets, ripping any unbolted door or shutter from its frame. Hail pelted the town. Some less robust roofs cracked and shattered under the unrelenting storm of ice. Yet, if one were to look around, it would become clear that most of these houses were abandoned.
The only visible light flickered behind the thick, frosted glass windows of the local church. From outside, a loud murmuring of many voices could be heard. The population had all decided to take shelter in the church, depending on the thick, brick walls and black stone rooftiles to protect them from the furious weather.
Inside, many families huddled quietly in God’s house as they waited for the storm to pass. It was much less… manic than one would have expected. Indeed, they had grown use to the wicked weather. Some of the older folk swore that this land had once been a temperate paradise, but that had changed almost two decades ago with the coming of the black plague. Now, it was as if the devil himself walked the earth - the land and skies themselves had become hostile to mankind.
The only hustle-and-bustle in the church could be attributed to one man, and the handful women that surrounded him. The man himself was tall and handsome. His features were noble, and his head was covered in neatly cropped blonde hair.
“No, I must leave this instant! Now more than ever, her ladyship needs the power of God Almighty.” The man was desperately trying to leave the church. Unfortunately, a pretty young woman was desperately clutching onto the hem of his black vestments.
“Please reconsider, father Fredo! It is not safe for you to be travelling at this time!” She practically started crying as she futilely tried to restrain the local priest from advancing any futher. The rest of the surrounding women all nodded their heads emphatically, desperately begging father Fredo to remain, for his own safety.
The man sighed, turning around. “Maid Eloise, I appreciate your concern, but I would be no man of God if I were to abandon a mother and her child!” Having said his piece, the man rushed to the great wooden doors of the church while throwing on a large hat as well as a leather coat. He slipped out carefully, ensuring that the doors didn’t get blown open by the hurricane winds.
The maidens watched him go with concern, their lips tightly sealed together.
“How brave…” Muttered the curly, brown-haired Eloise, raising her cold hands to her warm, flushing cheeks in order to cool them down.
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On the village’s outskirts, an elderly man stood in the window of a large stone house. Compared to the rest of the shabby town, it was practically a mansion.
The old groundskeeper stared out into the endless grey expanse of fog, rain and hail with despair. There was no way anyone would be able to make it to them in this weather. Not for the first time, he cursed his old, late master’s decision to construct this place so far from Villeneuve.
Suddenly, he spotted the figure of a man. It was approaching at a slow pace, buffeted by the unrelenting storm. The old man rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Confirming that the man was definitely there, he quickly hurried towards the servant’s door with excitement.
He flung the door open, running outside while screaming with abandon. “Fredorichi! Fredorichi!”
The form of father Fredo slipped, landing harshly on the road that had become a slush of mud and gravel. He desperately oriented himself not to fall on the oiled leather satchel he carried with himself. Scrambling to his feet, he eventually managed to stand straight with the help of the old groundskeeper.
“Senior Gilette, take me to the Madam’s side immediately!” father Fredo shouted, trying his best to make himself heard over the sounds of the storm.
The old man did not reply, instead choosing to focus all his strength on half-carrying the exhausted priest into the mansion. Once they were inside, father Fredo wasted no time. He hurriedly stormed up the stairs after old Gilette.
They arrived outside a large, luxurious wooden door. “The lady is inside. Please, Fredo…!” Spoke the old man, tightly wringing his hands together.
Fredorichi nodded, opening the door and heading inside. Immediately, he noticed the pained sounds of a woman as well as the smell of blood. In the center of the grand room was a large bed. In it lay a woman, clearly in the process of giving birth. One of her hands held tightly onto that of an enormous bearded man with salt and pepper hair.
He looked up at Fredo’s enterance. “Priest…! It is truly God’s providence that allowed you to arrive today. Please, aid my wife!” Both of his bulky hands tightly gripped at the lady’s frail, feminine fingers.
Fredo hurried to her side, practically emptying a whole apothecary of vials, potions and concoctions from his satchel. He was not only the village priest, but their doctor as well.
Seeing the amount of blood staining the bedsheets, the priest looked up at the lord of the house. “How long has she been in labor?”
The big man shook his head with a bitter expression. “It’s been more than eight hours.”
Fredo’s expression became serious as he started administering to his patient. These two men had no idea how to deal with a pregnant woman. However, Fredo knew that they were not without a midwife by choice. The situation in Villeneuve was not good…
His hands were a blur as he dabbed, poured, cut and wiped.
The gray-haired Gilette had retreated from the room, shutting the door behind him. The only ones left were the priest, the lord and his lady.
Fredorichi spoke. “Lord La Fayette, please help me raise the lady. The process becomes more difficult when she’s flat on her back.” The giant nodded, grabbing a lot of embroidered pillows in one arm. He lifted his wife easily with the other and stuffed the pillows behind her back.
“Her waist must be raised as well.”
The baron hurried to comply.
After taking a few minutes to perfect the lady’s positioning, they finally managed to arrange her laying-position to achieve a gradual incline. The beautiful woman’s face relaxed, her pain seemingly easing somewhat.
For the first time, she was able to speak. “Fredorichi, thank you… Do not worry about me, please just save the child.”
Lord La Fayette’s face crumpled at her words. “Jeanne, do not be ridiculous!”
Fredo shook his head. “There is no need to worry. Things are not so dire – both madam and child will certainly survive the ordeal.”
Both of the other individuals seemed to relax at his words.
The priest nodded his head in satisfaction at their reactions. “Here, drink some of this.” He handed a vial of strong-smelling spirits to lady Jeanne.
She looked at it incredulously.
Noticing her expression, Fredo spoke. “It will help relax your ladyship, as well as dull the pain.”
She looked at the priest a little doubtfully, before deciding to trust his advice. However, she was too weak to drink the alcohol herself.
“Claude, please raise the flask to my lips.”
Her husband rushed to comply. Jeanne forced herself to take three sips, before she could no longer continue. The liquid was terribly strong and bitter!
“That is enough.”
Claude La Fayette removed the drink from his wife’s mouth, before looking at it with consideration. He decided to take a few swigs himself before placing it on the bedside table.
“I will compensate you for this, Fredorichi.”
The priest did not reply, instead immersing himself in his role as ‘midwife’.
After a few minutes, Jeanne visibly started becoming more relaxed. At that time, the most nervous individual was none other than the baron himself. He knew better than anyone how vital this moment was. Jeanne had already suffered through no less than three excruciating stillbirths.
After the second, he’d pleaded with her to cease their attempts at having a child. However, she refused. Jeanne was determined to become a mother. This time, they needed to succeed. If this child perished as well, he knew with certainty that his wife would die, even if her body survived the birth.
He clenched his jaw so tightly that blood started seeping from his gums. Of course, he knew the reason for their struggles. The source was none other than his own sins. God had every right to punish him, but his wife had no part in it! She was innocent!
After the third stillbirth, Claude had departed from God. Jeanne had almost died that day. He could feel his faith shattering as he watched his wife scream in pain, black blood pouring from between her legs.
He desperately tried to persuade her to forgo a fourth pregnancy. Unfortunately, she was iron-willed.
“Claude… I want nothing more than to hold our precious child in my arms. After everything that we’ve persevered through, everything we’ve lost, this is the only hope that remains in my life. If you are unwilling to help me conceive a child… then I will not continue living any longer”
He’d begged, crying like a toddler, that she not go through with this – out of consideration for him, if nothing else. However, he could tell from the look in her eyes that she would not bend. Her icy gaze was that of a madwoman.
During one drunken night spent confessing his dissolving faith and his wife’s suicidal resolve to priest Fredorichi, he’d learned of something… unspeakable.
Fredorichi, who at that time was equally drunk, had let a hair-raising piece of information slip. He knew of a way to guarantee a successful pregnancy… although he hadn’t phrased it exactly like that.
In the priest’s inebriated state, he’d told Claude of an eldritch ritual used by a cult of satan-worshipping madmen. He’d expressly told Claude that, no matter what, he must never attempt such a thing. It was not worth risking his eternal soul for the matters of the physical world, no matter how tragic his situation was.
Claude La Fayette had made sure to enthusiastically agree. He would never do such a thing! Yet, as the night continued and the two became more inebriated, he managed to draw more of the ritual’s details from Fredo’s loosened lips. Truly, it was something which would surely damn any man’s soul to the never-ending fires of the abyss.
As for the authenticity of the information? It was not strange for Fredo to know of something like this, as he’d been a fanatical member of the catholic inquisition during his youth. Claude had once been shown both his emblem and his sword, which he’d kept to this day.
Claude La Fayette resolutely made his decision. He was already doomed, and not a single life on the face of this world could compare to that of his wife… and his child. The night of Jeanne’s conception, he’d proceeded with the ritual.
He had six infants were captured from the surrounding villages, in order to avoid suspicion. Their limbs bounded and their mouths stuffed, they were brought to Villeneuve in secret. Claude still retained his connections from when… well, it was better to not mention that.
That night, after laying with his wife and drugging her unconscious, he… slew the babes where they ley captive in the cellar. He took that innocent, bright red blood, and mixed it with other unspeakable ingredients into an unholy, black liquid. His face was stone cold and resolved. There was one small mercy – they’d been born to impoverished, helpless commoners, and were likely destined to live a life of suffering.
He took that tincture up to where Jeanne lay, sleeping peacefully. Using a thin horsetail brush, he drew the required occult symbols on her flawless, marble skin. He set up that satanic ritual, his eyes mad and desperate. Surely God would not condemn her for something she had no part in…
‘God, if you judge her for this… I will become a scourge on this earth, even if I have to return from the dead. I will kill every last one of your believers. By the devil, you will weep when you see what I’ve done to them!’
He proceeded with the ritual, his mouth uttering esoteric syllables that would make the hairs on the back of any listener’s necks stand up. After a time, a black wind sprung forth in the sealed room. The floors, windows, walls and ceiling started to groan as if something was trying to force its way in.
For the first time since he’d decided on this course of action, Claude felt fear. He considered giving up.
‘No! I must do this! Whatever comes, I will protect Jeanne… And if we perish here today, she will surely be saved. She’s been a God-fearing woman her whole life.’
Claude tried to calm himself without success. He’d started seeing… things at the corners of his vision. They were… smiling at him.
His whole body became numb and cold with fear. It was as he was transported to a different place. He could no longer speak, yet his mouth kept moving, muttering the god-forsaken words against his will. He did not even know what he was saying anymore – the priest certainly hadn’t told him any of this.
What was supposed to be a simple ritual was becoming something much… more.
He was no longer in a room, and Jeanne was no longer on a bed. Instead, they were in an unnatural forest, with her laying on an old, engraved stone tablet in a little clearing. The trees cast pitch black shadows beneath their barren bows. Yet, he could see them... the creatures. They were there, calling out to him. No, to Jeanne, their eyes fixed on her abdomen… towards the unborn child!
‘Save us, save us, save us, save us, save us.’
Tears started running down Claude’s cheeks from the sheer wrongness of the situation. He wanted to scream at them to get away from his wife, from his child. However, the endless stream of cursed sounds kept exiting his mouth against his will.
As the tempo started picking up, he saw the dark lines on his wife’s body start wriggling like serpents. The serpents morphed, turning into a writhing mass of devils. They started dancing, their many spiked appendages swaying deliriously across Jeanne’s white skin. Their mouths were open, smiling, as their empty black eyes shone with mad joy.
As the chant increased in tempo, their dancing took on a pulsating quality, as if they were veins. Claude watched with despair and hopelessness as the beings were drawn towards Jeanne’s abdomen where their pattern converged. The things in the forest were becoming more and more insistent, their mouths moving to voice a clear demand:
‘Save us! Save us! Save us! Save us! SAVE US!’
Eventually Claude was forced to look away. He felt as if he were one moment away from his heart bursting in his chest, from his mind turning into liquid and running out his ears.
Their chanting reached a crescendo, harmonizing with a chilling sound that emanated from the swirling markings on Jeanne’s abdomen:
The wet, cold sound of a beating heart.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Claude! CLAUDE!”
Hearing a voice calling for him, the baron snapped out of his stupor. He looked dumbly over to where his wife lay, swaddling something in her arms that was completely covered in blankets.
Seeing him regain his senses, his wife chuckled weakly. “Its alright. I am safe, as is the child. You can stop worrying now. Come, say hello to your son.”
Claude walked over to his Jeanne’s prone form with trepidation. He gingerly took the baby from her arms, pulling back the blanket covering its face to reveal… a perfectly normal human baby.
Claude sighed in relief. In truth, he thought of that hellish experience as something his anxious, over-worried mind had conjured up. He couldn’t remember anything else after that horrible climax until he found himself standing over his wife in their perfectly not-supernatural bedroom.
He looked down at their child as the worry left him. He even started smiling a little as he watched the baby sleeping peacefully.
“Well? I doubt you haven’t already decided on a name long in advance.” He said to his wife with an indulgent look on his face.
Jeanne’s rolled her eyes, the expression somehow conveying a sense of exhaustion. “Hush. I’m sure you’ll like it.”
Claude gently sat on the bed, placing their son back in his wife’s open arms.
She took the baby, gently nuzzling her nose against its cheek. “I want to name him Gaston, after my father.”
Claude nodded his head. He’d expected this – his late father-in-law had been a remarkable man. He was one of those larger-than-life fellows that one so rarely saw.
“A wonderful name. I’m sure your father would have been overjoyed, had he still been here with us.” Claude grinned as he carefully held his son’s little hand.
Jeanne giggled. “He would have taken Gaston junior hunting as soon as he could draw a bow.”
Claude snorted. That was very likely. Suddenly, he noticed father Fredorichi’s absence. He stood up a little urgently, almost dislodging Jeanne where she lay.
“Has the priest already left?”
Jeanne readjusted Gaston in her arms. “No, I believe he said he was too tired to travel back through the storm.”
With a ‘I’ll be back soon’ Claude exited the room, wanting to thank the man from the bottom of his heart. He may no longer see eye-to-eye with God, but he still retained his principles towards his fellow man.
A little while later, he found Fredo sitting at the kitchen table, sipping from a bowl of thick gruel.
Seeing his baron enter, the holy man stood from his seat. He almost toppled over as the lord grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into a hug.
“Words are not enough. Regardless, thank you. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. Even if you ask for my house, or my land, I will gladly give it.” Claude pulled back a little, looking him in the eyes as he said with sincerity.
The priest humbly shook his head. “It is my duty, and my great pleasure to do the work of God. A night’s rest and a few rations are all I ask for.”
Claude laughed a deep belly laugh, patting the handsome Fredo’s shoulder. “That is the least I could do.’
Fredo rocked a little from the blow. He’d already polished the last of his meal, and was feeling rather tired.
Claude took notice of the Father’s state. “I see you are tired. Let me show you to your room.”
The priest shook his head emphatically, looking mortified. “For your lordship to guide me personally, I could never…!”
Lord La Fayette took no notice of his protests, grabbing him by the arm and dragging Fredorichi towards their most esteemed guest suite.
Fredo’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets when he saw the luxurious accommodations. Before he could protest, Claude had already dragged him into the room, showing him where the firewood and the extra bedding was stored. There was even a filled cupboard so their guests would need to make a midnight trip to the kitchen.
“I’m very thankful, your lordship. Please don’t hesitate to call me if my services are needed tonight.” Said Fredo.
“Well, I won’t keep you any longer.” Claude said while nodding, stepping out of the room. He wanted to get back to his wife and child as soon as possible.
Fredorichi watched the giant of a man exit the room with a demure smile. As soon the baron had left the room, the sycophantic expression left his face.
Without moving his head, his eyes slid to look slightly upwards in the direction of the master bedroom, his mouth curving into a different kind of smile.
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