An Unlikely Savior

by Camille Oster

  They kept walking until they could only see the barest outline of the road. Only the crunching sound under their feet told them with any certainty that they were still on the road. Then they saw some lights. They were still far away, but Virginie felt very encouraged by the sight. She concentrated on not tripping as they slowly made their way to the village.

  The village wasn’t large, just a handful of buildings on one side and a vast black emptiness on the other. Virginie could hear the water lapping against rocks at the edge of the land. She could also hear a bell gently tolling somewhere. There seemed to be no particular rhythm to it.

  Tomas left her side and walked to one of the small cottages. He knocked on the door and talked to whoever answered. Virginie stayed where she was, while he dealt with the person. He talked to the person for a long time. Tomas stepped back and Virginie saw a man disappear back into the cottage, then return with a candle on a holder. He stepped out of the cottage and started walking away. Tomas waved her over and they followed the man. He walked quickly in between some cottages until they reached one that was completely dark.

  He pushed the door open and walked into the dark cottage. Tomas urged her to walk in. She stepped into the cottage and into a living space. It was a tiny room with a table in the centre.

  “The hearth is there,” the man pointed. He placed the candle on the table. “You can stay here the night. We will have to leave before dawn if you want to catch a ship.” The man had a large frame and an open face. His hair was balding a little and he wore a leather apron. Virginie felt no menace about him, but she wasn’t entirely sure she was a good judge of character. Tomas seemed to trust him enough to talk to him and the man was giving them a place for the night, which meant that they didn’t have to brave the cold that night.

  The man left and closed the door behind him. The room was very cold and Tomas moved to the hearth to start a fire.

  “Apparently the widow that lives here is away at the moment,” Tomas said. “And we can use it for the night. The fishermen will take us out in their boats early in the morning to intercept one of the ships heading north.

  “Can we trust them?”

  “He seemed willing to help.”

  “They could turn us in.”

  “There aren’t any soldiers around here; the nearest one would be hours away. These are honest people; I don’t think they have any interest in harming a lone traveller and his wife.”

  “They must know we are trying to escape if we are seeking on boarding a ship all the way out here.”

  “I think he would have turned us away if he didn’t want to help us.”

  Virginie nodded. It had grown hard to believe in genuine human kindness. She had grown suspicious of every motive and action, and she hated it. She wanted to be the person she had been that believed that everyone did their best and tried to help someone in need. She knew that she would never dream of not helping someone in need if she were approached. She couldn’t even contemplate condemning someone for a few coins; she just couldn’t understand the hatred that people felt toward others. Not just others, toward her. They didn’t even know her, but they hated her.

  The assistance of the people in this village reaffirmed the world could be normal again, that this madness hadn’t spread everywhere. She just wanted things to be normal. She felt bone tired, and not just physically even though she wasn’t sure her legs would carry her much further. She was exhausted in her mind as well. She was too tired to think anymore.

  She sat down on a bench running along the table and watched as Tomas coaxed the fire in the hearth. She looked around the room. It was tidy but simple. There was a small kitchen space next to the heart. The were some embroidery in frames on the walls. There was also a knitting basket next to chair in the corner of the room. Virginie guessed the basket belonged to the woman that had once lived here. It looked like there was still a woman living here, not just a widow. It seemed the man kept the little cottage just like it was, like she would walk in one day and would return to resume her life. It was sweet and sad, but she dismissed the thoughts as she couldn’t take any more on at the moment.

  The fire was roaring now and Tomas closed the little door on the hearth. He placed a pot of water on the top of it. He went to scrounge around in the small kitchen as Virginie watched. She had no idea how to prepare food. Another thing that had been inappropriate for her to learn. There was a corner of a bread loaf under a towel. Tomas placed it on the table.

  “Soak it in oil,” he said and returned his attention to the hearth. Virginie picked up the rock hard piece of bread. She looked around and saw a small bottle that looked like olive oil. She picked up the knife and started cutting the bread with some force, placing the pieces on a plate and pouring oil over them.

  Tomas had found some salt packed fish and started to rinse them. Before long the small room smelled with frying fish. It smelled absolutely wonderful. Just the smell was raising her spirits.

  Before long, they had a meal of fried fish, potatoes and oily bread. It was lovely and the first solid meal Virginie had partaken of in quite a while. It tasted divine, and she was impressed that Tomas could produce such a meal. Her hunger roared to life as the first morsel of the fish touched her lips.

  The cottage was quiet as they ate, as was the village outside. Virginie figured that if the villages wanted to get together to arrest the visitors they would have done it by now, hence they probably weren’t going to. She started to relax for a moment. They were close to freedom now; they just had to find a ship and they would be away out of the grip of the revolution and the people who wanted them dead. There was still a danger in that the Captain they approached could be very sympathetic to the revolution and arrest them on sight with the intention of returning them. They would be vastly outnumbered if the Captain chose to seize them and sail them back to Nantes.

  They had to take the risk though; this was the only way to get to England. She dreaded taking another risk, she wasn’t sure her heart could take any more fear, but in a few hours they would and it would either work or it wouldn’t.

  Virginie wondered what other solution there was. If the villagers weren’t hateful to their kind, maybe they could just stay here until the madness burned itself out. They could live in a little cottage just like this one. Tomas had already told the village that they were man and wife; they could just continue the pretence. Virginie actually found the thought appealing.

  A very short time ago, she wouldn’t have thought it possible to live in such a small space, but now, it seemed like heaven. She looked into the dark room that lay on the other side of the room. She could see a bed in there. Her body ached to sleep in a bed.

  They could have a small life here, just the two of them. She would have to learn to do peasant crafts like cook and knit, but she didn’t find that objectionable. She would wait for Tomas to come home each day and prepare a meal for him, just like he just had for her.

  Then in the evening, they would have to retire into the small bedroom and live like man and wife. She felt a thrill of heat travel down her body at the thought. She wondered what that would be like, not the urgent and desperate joining in a black priest hole, but a more leisurely night when there was no danger or worry. She could let her hands roam over every part of him, taste his skin and his lips.

  She knew it was a silly fantasy, but it had a very strong appeal. She had the notion that she could be quite happy living like that. But it was not a way one could live for a small time and then part again. If they were to live like that, they would likely have to actually live like man and wife.

  “You should sleep,” he said. “We have an early start.”

  “Are you coming as well?” She wanted him to sleep with her that night. She wanted the comfort of having him near. She also wanted to explore the desire and ache she felt for him.

  “I need to talk to some of the fishermen before it gets too late. You stay here and rest, I will return shortly.”

  Virginie
felt a slight panic as he got up to leave, but she held her tongue. She didn’t want him to be disappointed with her. There wasn’t any immediate danger so she shouldn’t appear so dependent on him. She suspected he would find that tiresome. She would wait for him to return, wait for him to lay down next to her on the bed.

  The little cottage felt empty without him there, but she felt the weariness set in more than any concern about being on her own. She went to lie down on the bed. She brought the candle with her. The room was small and whitewashed. The small window covered with white curtains with small blue flowers printed on it. This room had some definite feminine touches as well.

  The bed was soft and the blankets were plentiful. She intended on waiting for Tomas to return, but she lost her battle to stay awake and sleep claimed her.

  Tomas didn’t sleep that night. He was worried that if he did, he would miss the chance to catch a ship. They had to get up around four in the morning to get out to the shipping lane in time to catch ships leaving Nantes on the morning tide. He couldn’t afford to sleep through it, so he was determined to stay awake. He’d had plenty of rest during the cart ride here, so it wouldn’t harm him staying awake until he was sure they were on their way. He sat by the fire and drank a bottle of ale that one of the fishermen had given him.

  He’d had a very interesting conversation with the fishermen. They knew the ships that sailed these waters surprisingly well. Tomas suspected that the fishermen knew much more about the smuggling trade than they admitted to. He wasn’t going to raise their suspicions by querying them on the issue, but he did feel certain that the men would deliver them to a friendly Captain, rather than someone fanatical.

  If they were indeed smugglers, then this revolution would not be in their interests. The high taxes of the King had made smuggling lucrative, while the whole tax system was upended at the moment, negating the needs for evasion.

  They drove a fair bargain for conveying them out into the shipping lane and Tomas had settled on a price to be delivered when a ship had been found for them. He hadn’t even considered what to do when they got to England. He’d heard that there was assistance for fleeing French aristocrats by the English crown. He would have to find out when he got there. Hopefully they could help him reunite Virginie with her family.

  Part of the reason that he was staying awake was that he couldn’t entirely trust himself if he joined her in a warm, soft bed. The idea was too tempting. She would invariable snuggle into him, pushing her soft curves against his eager body. He also suspected that she would let him touch her if he chose to, which made the situation all the more dangerous. He had failed once, he couldn’t do it again. Each time he touched her, the risk was higher that he couldn’t deliver her in a state where she could be married to some pompous nobleman. And he needed to leave England at the earliest opportunity. He needed to forget about her, not that he was entirely sure it was possible. VIrginie and her delectable body would torture him for a long time, but torture was better than succumbing and ruining her.

  He knew that her regard and touch would turn bitter when she realized the state he’d brought her to. He remembered well her disgust at his humble abode in Angers. He had even less now. His only means were the ones he stole.

  She was not meant for that kind of life. She needed to marry a rich man with a title, land and property, someone who could keep her in dresses and jewellery. A man who would take her to balls and country house jaunts with his equally insipid friends. Neither she nor her children would ever want for anything. These were all the things he could not offer her.

  It was true more than ever that he would have been much better off if she had never appeared in the tavern back in Angers, but not because he would have to give up his humble life there. No, his own situation was again rubbed in his face, showing him in no uncertain terms the things he was not allowed. It had been the reason he had left, and now it had come back to torture him again. He wanted Virginie much more desperately than anything that made him leave in the first place. But she was not his and she was not for him, he could not afford to forget that.

  The night eventually passed. It was getting close to the time when they had to leave, brave the cold ocean at night so they could reach the ships they needed. It would take them quite some time to get out to the shipping channels and ships left Nantes on the morning tide. He had to wake Virginie.

  He lit the candle in the small bedroom and brought it over to the table next to the bed. Virginie lay in the bed with her hand folded gently next to her face. Her face was flush with warmth and sleep. She looked stunningly beautiful. He wanted to wake her with a kiss, but he restrained himself. He could so easily slip in next to her and explore the delights of her warm and welcoming body, sink deep into her and the heaven that existed there. The devil could not have created a more compelling temptation, but he steeled himself against those thoughts.

  “Virginie,” he said gently. He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers and she moved her face with the touch, but settled back into sleep. He smiled. She wasn’t the lightest sleeper there was. He ran this thumb across her cheek again feeling the smooth dewy skin. “Wake up, Virgnie. It’s time to go.”

  She brought her hand up and rubbed her face. She was coming to. “You must dress, we have to go.”

  He could hear the men preparing outside. He could hear the crunch of gravel as they were walking not far away, preparing for the day.

  Virginie was awake when he looked back. She was watching him with her beautiful blond hair spread out around her head, making her look like an angle from a church painting.

  He stepped away from the bed and went into the kitchen to wait for her. She joined him a short time later.

  “We must go now,” he said. She nodded. “Here one of the fishermen’s wives gave you this.” He handed her a woollen shawl that he’d been given the previous evening. She took it and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  “You can have your jacket back now,” she said with a smile. It would be very cold for him out on the water in just his shirt. He put his jacket on and urged her into the darkness outside of the small cottage. He grabbed the little candle they had and closed the door behind them. They walked over to where the men were preparing the boat. They were generally silent as they went about their work, each of them seeming to know exactly what their role was and how they needed to work together. They had obviously done this many times before and there was no directions needed for them to get on with it.

  A small wooden jetty lead out to the boat where the men were hauling nets onto the back. They would be fishing as well as delivering their guests. One of the fishermen helped Virginie step onto the boat. Tomas followed and they took a seat on a bench at the back of the boat.

  “It moves,” she whispered to him as she was surprised at the sensations of being on water. “I’ve never been on a boat before.”

  “Not even a small one?”

  “No.”

  The men pushed them away from the jetty into the darkness that surrounded them. There was only a small light in the centre of the boat, all else was dark. They felt the tug of the boat as the men started rowing. The oars splashed gently in the water, then the tug at they gained hold in the water and the men pulled them along. Tomas put his arm around Virginie as she shook slightly with the damp night cold.

  “Weather will be good,” one of the fishermen said. “The sailing should be smooth.” Virginie had no idea how they could tell as there wasn’t enough light to see how the weather was forming. They obviously used other means of telling.

  “How long do you think it will take to reach England from here?” she asked the man.

  “It’s not a long sail, just over a day if the winds are good. Where in England are you going?”

  “London,” Tomas said.

  “Never been,” the man replied.

  “Neither have we.”

  “They say the Englishmen love their horses more than their women,” the man said with a laugh. T
he rest of them joined in.

  Tomas was impressed with the stamina of the men. They had rowed for hours without stopping. The sky grew lighter around them and the stars started to recede. They were too far away to see the land behind them. There were dots on the horizon that Tomas made out as being ships.

  One of the men got up and rung a bell at the front of the boat. He rang the bell in curious patterns with differing spaces between each toll. After a minute or so, there was a faint bell rung in response away in the distance somewhere.

  “They are coming,” one of the men said. They stopped rowing and sat and waited. He could see the men more clearly now as the day was brightening. They were of different ages and he could see familiar resemblance amongst some of them. One of them pulled out a loaf of bread and started tearing off pieces and handing them out. One of the men passed two pieces over to Tomas and he gave one to Virginie, who sat very quietly next to him. He knew that she was worried, he could tell even without her telling him. He had come to read her over the last few days.

  They ate in silence as they waited and watched one of the ships turn toward them.

  “This one is headed to Plymouth,” one of the fishermen said. “It isn’t as close to London as Brighton, but it is what you have this morning. We still don’t officially sail to England due to the war, so there are less ships going there than there was.”

  “Plymouth is fine,” Tomas said. “We can find our way from there.” The man nodded and turned to see how far away the ship was.

  After a while, the large ship pulled up next to the small fishing boat and the rope ladder was hoisted over the side. Tomas helped Virginie over to the ladder and she started to climb. He quickly handed the agreed amount of coins over to the closest fisherman, who took them with a nod.

  “It’s been a pleasure,” he said and the fishermen all nodded. He climbed up after Virginie, wanting to stay close to her in case she lost her footing. Men helped her over the side and he followed as fast as he could.