The Price of Honor (Canadiana Series Book 1)

by Susanne Matthews

He nodded. “We do the same thing in Ville-Marie. Many of those who live in the city own property around it. That land is tended by engagés, indentured servants, or by tenants who pay the owner with crops and labor. Talon is encouraging everyone to clear more land for farming by paying a higher than average price for the lumber. The trees here are a mix of soft and hard wood, but there’s more than enough to leave plenty for cooking and heating, and still send several ship-loads to France.” He paused and looked towards the west. “Our land, like those around us, are heavily forested. I’ve ordered the felling of a large section of forests to clear fields for farming. Most of that lumber’s being used for construction. Our house will be ready soon.”

  “My own house. I never thought I would ever have a simple house of my own, and now I can’t wait to see it.”

  “It won’t be as grand as the governor’s lodge in Caen or the vicomte’s estate house, but it will be a good sturdy building, designed to withstand the weather here. Our seigneurie is two hours by wagon west of Ville-Marie, but we won’t live there alone. I’ve got thirty tenants working the soil, lumberjacks, and millworkers, some of the regiment’s best men, all within a short distance. When I left, one of my men was building a small trading post near the saw mill. Soon, we’ll have our own village. My men have built a palisade around the buildings to protect us all should the renegades try to attack.”

  Isabelle shuddered. There’d be nothing dull about life in this land. She and Guy continued walking, arm in arm, through the streets of the town. Guy showed her the Convent of the Ursulines, the Bishop’s Palace, and several small inns where traders and trappers stayed in the city. They met several of the newlywed couples, including Michel and Marie Elise who seemed in awe of one another.

  The day was hot, and Guy suggested they join their friends for a flagon of wheat beer, a local beverage brewed near the St. Charles River, another of Talon’s economic boosts to the colony. The beer was cool and refreshing, and far tastier than the spruce beer she’d consumed aboard ship. Bidding their friends adieu, they wandered the streets, happy to be in one another’s company. When they came upon a goldsmith, Guy insisted they go inside. Eventually, they returned to the château where they found Aline talking with one of the women working in the garden.

  “Good afternoon, Maman,” Guy leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Did you enjoy your bath?” He smiled knowingly at her and her cheeks heated once more.

  “Why yes, I did.” She cocked her head at Guy.

  Isabelle could see her unspoken question.

  “Look at these gardens,” she said, turning back to the plants she’d been admiring. “See how lush the plants are? Isabelle, they’re growing pommes de terre and they grow much better here than they did in France. Marie says they can be cooked in a number of different ways—boiled, baked, mashed. They’re even good cold mixed with shallots and aioli. And the herbs. Dill, parsley, chives, and feverfew among others grow better here than in France, although you have to replant some of them each spring. The woods and fields are full of other good things to eat including fruits, berries, nuts, garlic, and mushrooms the Indiens have shown the colonists.” She turned to the woman. “Thank you for sharing your knowledge with me.”

  Aline put her arm through Guy’s free one and turned to walk toward the house with them.

  “Monsieur Giroux and Henri were here earlier. We’ve decided to get married Monday when all the brides from the ship renew their vows. The bishop himself will conduct the service. There’ll be twelve couples altogether. Tomorrow, since it’s Sunday, we’ll all attend mass and learn the details afterwards.”

  “I thought you were going to wait until we reached Ville-Marie,” said Guy, stopping and releasing her as well as his mother.

  Aline blushed and fiddled with her handkerchief.

  “It’ll be easier this way since Henri and I can share a cabin aboard the ship. With Gerard joining us, you’d have had to share your cabin. This way, you won’t.”

  Guy laughed and pulled her into his arms.

  “Excellent thinking, Maman. Was it your idea or Henri’s?” Aline reddened giving Guy his answer. “I see my future step-father is a man of action. I envy him.”

  He turned to her and winked.

  Isabelle was certain she’d reddened almost as much as her future mother-in-law had and turned to hug the woman.

  “I’m happy for you as well. There may be twelve couples on Monday, but you’ll outshine all the younger brides. Where’s Sophie?”

  “You’re too kind, Izzy. As for Sophie, I’m surprised you didn’t see her,” Aline answered. “Gerard took her to see the town.” She looked toward the gate, concern marring her face. Suddenly, a smile split her stern countenance. “Here they come now.”

  Sophie and Gerard walked up to them. After a few minutes of polite conversation, the gunsmith excused himself, saying he’d see them at church in the morning.

  Isabelle was ready long before Sophie and Aline came to claim her for dinner. She’d chosen to wear the blue and green striped skirt and bodice she’d worn for the wedding feast. Instead of the sapphires, she wore the locket Sophie had given her for her birthday. Since she didn’t need to cover the roots of her hair, she’d discarded the lace cap. Sophie had used curling tongs to arrange Isabelle’s hair and push it to the left side of her head where it was kept in place by her tortoiseshell comb. She also wore the small gold earrings Guy had given her as an engagement present. They were more precious to her than the de Caen Emeralds had ever been.

  Sophie wore her purple dress, and Aline had donned a light gray silk with a matching cap. Because she was expected to be in mourning, Sophie’s hair was pulled back in a braid and covered with a black lace cap. Once they’d finished adding the final touches to their toilettes, they made their way down the hall to the reception room Amélie had indicated to them. When they entered the room, the men were in heavy conversation, which ceased as soon as they were noticed. Guy took the lead and walked over to them. He reached for Isabelle’s hand and kissed it.

  “You look ravishing, mon amour. I’m the luckiest man in all of New France.” He turned to the other men. “Monseigneur, your grace, may I present my fiancée Isidore, my mother Aline, and Sophie Gaudier. Ladies, you know Governor-General de Courcelle. Allow me to introduce Monseigneur François-Xavier de Montmorency-Laval, the Bishop of Quebec, and Jean Talon, Intendant of New France.”

  The men bowed and the ladies curtsied. As the eldest, Aline spoke on their behalf.

  “It’s an honor to meet you.”

  She knelt before the bishop and kissed his ring. Isabelle and Sophie copied her actions. The rules of court satisfied, Guy escorted them to the table in the dining room.

  On this late spring evening, the drapes and windows were open to provide fresh air and a view of the garden. Bunches of herbs including feverfew, verbena, catnip, and lavender decorated the tables. Always curious, Aline asked about them.

  Talon laughed. “Among the plentiful creatures in New France are the mosquitoes, annoying blood sucking insects. While they’re almost impossible to banish, these herbs help minimize their presence. Many of the women in New France wears sachets filled with lavender since the insects don’t appear to like its restful scent.”

  “I’ll remember that. Those herbs will be among the first I plant.”

  The food, far more plentiful and richer than they’d had at sea, was delicious. There was venison, fish, and partridge as well as the potatoes Isabelle liked, carrots, beans, and beets. The meal finished with wild berries in crème fraiche and cheese. Wine and wheat beer, like the pleasant conversation, flowed easily around the table.

  “So, Talon,” said the governor-general. “How goes your thread monopoly?”

  “Very well,” he replied. “I’m told there’ll be enough hemp cloth to send several bales to France as well as ensuring all of the colonists, especially the single men, have at least two shirts and two pairs of pants. The seamstresses tell me the cloth accepts dye easily and
they’re experimenting with the natural dyes the squaws have shown them.” He turned to the ladies sitting across from him. “Squaw is the Montagnais word for woman,” he explained.

  “What’s a thread monopoly?” Isabelle asked. She’d heard of a trade monopoly, but never one involving thread. The hemp cloth must’ve been the strange material from which the clothes in Pierre’s trunk had been made.

  Jean Talon laughed. “It’s my way of encouraging the farmers to grow hemp, Mademoiselle. Alas, you can’t buy thread in the colony. Each woman who marries is given a large spool, and the only way she can get another is to weave hemp cloth and exchange a measure of it for thread.” He paused a moment and took a sip of wine. “Hemp fabric is coarse, but strong and durable. Most of the settlers use it for their everyday clothes, especially in the warmer weather. Sunday garments are generally made from wool and linen. The coureurs de bois prefer buckskin and fur like the Indiens.” He laughed. “I have to admit I wear such clothes myself when I go out in the canoe or hunting. They’re sturdier garments ideal for walking through the woods, and fur is much warmer than wool come winter.”

  “Aren’t your actions a bit extreme?” Aline asked. “After all, not everyone living in New France can possibly have the necessary land on which to grow enough of the plant to harvest and work it into cloth. What do the others do? For example, the innkeepers—they may have gardens, but these are needed for food crops such as vegetables and herbs. They aren’t cultivating large amounts of land, but they still need to mend their clothes. How are they to acquire thread with this monopoly of yours?”

  “Hemp cloth has become a form of currency in the colony, Madame Poirier. Innkeepers and other merchants accept it as payment for food, lodging, and other services, but I may have to rethink the full extent of my monopoly now the colony is beginning to prosper. I heard from your son that you’ll be among the women married on Monday. Congratulations. Unfortunately you’re beyond your childbearing years, so you won’t qualify for the fifty livres, but I’ll make sure you get your thread.” He winked and chuckled at his own witticism.

  The red in Aline’s cheeks told Isabelle the woman wasn’t at all pleased with the intendant’s comment. Before Aline could say anything more, Guy spoke out, no doubt to keep his outspoken mother from insulting the nobility.

  “Maman, you have to forgive the intendant his little joke. He didn’t mean to be impolite. It’s simply the younger the couples are when they marry, the more money they receive. The largest amount goes to girls who marry at or around the age of fifteen, the age considered the onset of her fertile years.”

  Heat suffused her cheeks. She’d been that age when the chevalier had first asked her father for her hand.

  “But that’s so young,” Sophie exclaimed. “A girl that age is little more than a child.”

  “I beg to differ, Madame Gaudier. At fifteen a girl is on the verge of womanhood, quite capable of being a wife and mother. You’ll meet many young mothers when you reach Ville-Marie, all of them happier and more satisfied than they’d have been had they remained in France.” The bishop smiled indulgently and continued. “Our Savior’s mother is thought to have been of similar age when God chose her.”

  Aline turned to Talon, not ready to let go of her annoyance.

  “Henri and I won’t be farming. We’re too old, as you have pointed out, to learn this new skill. We will be parents though. We’ll take in a couple of Ville-Marie’s orphans. We’ve discussed it, and have decided we’ll purchase an inn. We’re both experienced cooks, and I maintained the château for Viscount Gaudier for over twenty years. Henri is good at repairing and building things, too. We’ll make our livelihood that way. I’ll make sure I get coins for my hospitality as well as hemp cloth. I won’t go into business to end up poorer than when I started.”

  “But you won’t be. While you’ll get paid in coin, there are a number of commodities used to pay for services in New France—furs, wool, hem, foodstuffs—the list goes on. As new business owners, you’ll qualify for tax exemptions to help you get started. With your son’s backing, I know you’ll do well. Ville-Marie is growing and will continue to do so. The trappers who go there to trade need to be housed and fed. Perhaps once you’ve opened your doors, I myself will come to sample your cuisine.”

  “Then, your grace,” Aline said, smiling sweetly, “be prepared to pay your bill in thread.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Madame Poirier,” said de Courcelle. “I can see you’ll be an excellent addition to this colony.”

  The conversation became more general, discussing fashion in France, the recent crossing, the latest gossip, and continued until the meal was finished. As soon as dessert was cleared away, the men excused themselves to discuss the affairs of the colony while the ladies sat in the salon, drinking chocolate and awaiting their return.

  “You both seem to have your lives organized,” Sophie lamented. “I’ve got no husband and no skills. What am I supposed to do when we reach Ville-Marie? I feel useless.”

  “Nonsense, child,” Aline interrupted. “You’ve been raised to be a lady, and now you’ve got the means to continue that way if you wish. Once you choose a husband, he’ll keep you busy enough with the routine things wives do around the world.” Sophie and Isabelle both blushed. Aline laughed. “Silly girls, I meant cooking and baking, washing and mending—all the skills that you practised on the ship. As well, you’ll have to learn to spin, weave, churn butter, preserve fruits and vegetables, salt meat, make candles, and of course, take care of your children. Guy says it’s possible to hire help from among the older daughters of the colonists or the Indiennes who’ve been converted, but there are some things a woman wants to do for herself. Here, in New France, life is different, and the women must adapt.” She set down her empty cup and took Sophie’s hands in hers. “Guy tells me you own a significant amount of land next to his which he’ll buy, and you have an impressive house in Ville-Marie where we’ll all live when we first arrive. Added to that the money you’ve gotten from the king, and Isabelle’s trunk, you have an excellent dowry. You can attract a nobleman. Believe me; you’ll be quite busy in no time.”

  Isabelle smiled. “We’ll have more than domestic chores to keep us busy. Guy said we’ve got to learn how to fire a musket and use a knife to defend ourselves. It appears we’ve got a lot to learn yet, Aline. You’ll have to give us both more lessons before you and Henri leave us to start your inn. I need to know everything I can before I move into the seigneurie. I want to be the best wife I can be.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Guy stood in de Courcelle’s office with the three most important men in New France who drank brandy as they listened to him repeat what he’d told the governor-general earlier. When he finished speaking, de Courcelle stood and moved away from the table. His restlessness was evident in the way he paced.

  “Thank you, Poirier. There you have it, gentlemen. We have a serious situation on our hands, one far more serious than we suspected a few months ago when we sent our emissary to Paris. I’m afraid we made a critical error in judgement.”

  “Daniel,” Talon interrupted. “Have you told him why we sent Pierre to Paris?”

  “No,” he replied. “I thought I’d wait until we were all together since it’d been a joint decision.” He turned to Guy and motioned for him to sit while he continued to pace nervously.

  “After the attack in which you were injured,” he began, “Gaudier and some of his men followed the raiding party down the Mohawk route, where they split into two groups—one group turned towards the lake and the Mohawk lands, the other moved south heading into English territory. Pierre sent six of his men to follow those going west while he and his Huron scouts went south.”

  He moved to stand in front of the wall map of the colonies and indicated the routes as he spoke.

  “Pierre changed out of his uniform into buckskins to make sure his party wouldn’t be mistaken for invaders should they meet any British soldiers. It didn’t ta
ke them long to catch up with those they pursued. They came upon their encampment the next day. What he discovered is the reason he was sent to France. The Mohawk braves they thought they were following were trappers in disguise. What made the discovery even more intriguing was that one of his Huron scouts recognized two of the men—they’d trapped with the Huron for many years.”

  Guy interrupted angrily. “Sacré bleu! That’s impossible. It would mean white men are attacking and killing settlers. I don’t believe it. For the most part trappers are honorable men. How do you know this scout can be trusted?”

  “Let me continue, and then you can decide for yourself whether the story has merit. As a boy, the scout travelled with some of those men on an exploring expedition far to the west near the great waters, which we know is the last of five lakes, the source of the Saint Lawrence River. They wanted to go farther, especially when the tribes told them of great rivers that ran both north and south. The men in question seemed kind and thoughtful, showing concern for the animals. To the Huron, every creature has a soul and torturing the animals they rely on for survival is wrong. That expedition wasn’t sanctioned by the Company of the One Hundred Associates nor the Governor of New France who was the administrator at the time. Leading the unauthorized expedition were two men you may have heard of: Radisson and Des Groseilliers.”

  Guy gasped. “Of course I’ve heard of them. Their prowess as fur trappers and explorers was legendary among the coureurs de bois, but I thought they’d retired years ago.”

  “Not quite. Let me continue. Once the expedition reached the lake, the explorers met the Cree, a tribe who dwell in that area. They described an area further northwest, where furs were plentiful. Even back then, good furs had become more difficult to find in the settled areas, and the trappers wanted to move out and find richer hunting grounds. The group followed the Cree’s directions and came back heavily laden with prime pelts. Unfortunately for them, deep exploration of the continent was discouraged since the colony was at war with the Mohawks. The ruling parties of the time insisted our trappers avoid moving into unknown territory for fear of increasing the conflict and levied strict fines on those who disobeyed this edict. The colonial policy then, as it is now, was to increase our presence along the Saint Lawrence River where we can govern and protect our people.”