Gaston - Chapter 3 (Patreon)

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Maurice Le Marquand covered his eyes with one hand as he looked up at the sun. They had around four hours until twilight. He looked the rocky landmark ahead of them, sighing as he did so. He didn’t wish to stay another night in the forest, but it didn’t seem like they would have a choice. It would take some time for them to set camp for the night, and to make a fire.

He shook the little girl awake who’d fallen asleep in his lap. “Wake up, princess.”

Her light-brown eyelashes fluttered cutely as she returned to consciousness. “Dad…?”

“We’re stopping for the night, Margaret!” Maurice turned to look over his shoulder, shouting towards the carriage behind them. Protesting sounds could quickly be heard from both carriages. The children were even less eager to spend one more night huddled around a campfire in the dark woods.

“Were almost there, can’t we keep going?” Nagged a boyish voice from behind. Agreeing shouts could be heard from many of the other children, especially the boys. They wanted their custard, and they wanted it now!

“I’m afraid not. We’ll be in real trouble if it gets dark and we still haven’t reached the town.” Mourice said with a firm voice while shaking his head.

“The monsters come out when it gets dark!” Belle shouted from her father’s lap, her shrill little voice rising above the cacophony of her siblings’ quarreling.

The second eldest daughter, a redhead, scoffed at her little sister. “Monsters? How childish.” She sent a glance at Anastasia sitting next to her, looking for her approval.

The blonde maiden in question ignored this, instead moving to get out of the carriage. “I am tired. We will travel no further today.” The other girls immediately clammed up, deferring to her decision. It wasn’t wise to get on Anastasia’s bad side. Even the boys only grumbled a little in dissatisfaction, but not loudly enough to single themselves out.

Maurice watched this with a bitter expression. He felt his position as head of the family being threatened, and by his own daughter no less. Well, he supposed that her bossiness was somewhat helpful in this case.

“Be careful, darling. Wait for the horses to halt first.” Maurice said, wary of having her get out while the carriage was still moving.

The angelic girl ignored his, opening the door and getting out with a light hop. They were travelling so slowly that it was impossible for her to even so much as stumble from her landing. She started patting her thin legs over her white dress. They were sore from sitting for such a prolonged period of time.

Maurice sighed as they stopped moving. His children were becoming more and more disobedient because of her example. However, scolding them was of no use. They only became sullen and more unruly.

His oldest daughter made no move to help them as they tied up the horses, unpacked their belongings and started setting their camp. Instead, she waited for one of her sisters to set a blanket for her on the ground before folding her legs beneath her and taking a seat in a patch of sunlight.

This area was rather heavily forested, with large trees reaching into the sky high above their heads. The road itself was almost overgrown, and it was difficult for them to clear a suitably large space for a camp. Consequently, it was no surprise that they took so long to notice the two approaching riders.

Maurice jumped to his feet from where he’d been hammering a wooden stake into the ground. He prayed to God that the arrivals weren’t bandits. The children stopped what they were doing as well and started whispering amongst each other, pointing towards the direction of the sound.

His oldest son, Bertrand, ran over to Anastasia’s side with a large stick clasped tightly in his hands.

“Don’t worry Anna, I’ll protect you!” He said, his gaze firm. The girl rolled her eyes at her younger brother’s antics.

Two horses burst through the underbrush, only to come to a halt somewhere down the overgrown trail, snapping branches and scattering leaves in the air.

The group of children froze as they looked at the large figure in front. The man was ridiculously big, with a scarred face and a braided, greying beard. He sat on top of a massive brown horse, his thick, gnarled fingers holding tightly onto the leather reins.

They watched with dry throats as he trotted over to their father, Maurice. If this man wasn’t there very image of a scoundrel, then they didn’t know who was.

Bertrand’s knees started shaking when the giant dismounted, hitting the ground with such force that the dry earth cracked under his feet. The axe at his waist jangled, hitting against the buckles of his leather vest. The thing was big enough that even the most experienced woodsman would need to wield it with two hands, yet he wore it at his side like a shortsword.

The stick dropped from his numb hands as the man advanced, coming to a stop some distance away from his father.

Maurice looked at Margaret, who was currently standing protectively in front of the children. One hand had gone to her side where she clutched at something hidden in her clothes. Her stance was remarkably disciplined for a simple maid.

Maurice motioned her to stand down before turning back to the man. Of course, he’d recognized Claude the moment he laid eyes on him. The man’s powerful features, and the jagged scar running across his cheek, were hard to forget.

“Maurice Le Maruand, please accept my greetings.” Claude’s face was serious as he leaned forward to grip the smaller man’s hand while speaking in a booming voice.

Maurice took his hat off, clasping the other man’s hand in a firm handshake. His palm was practically swallowed in Claude’s bear-like paw.

“Lord La Fayette, it is my great pleasure. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I find myself incapable of offering you proper hospitality out here.” Maurice said, surprised by the baron’s arrival and ashamed at his own destitute state.

Claude patted his shoulder in understanding. “There is no need for that. In any case, I barely qualify as a noble. Feel free to address me comfortably.”

Maurice shook his head. “I am a common merchant with no title, and am at your mercy today. Any less would be disrespectful.”

Claude showed an understanding expression. When a man was at his lowest, he would cling even more desperately to his pride. “As you will.”

He turned his head to Gaston, who had gone largely unnoticed do to his father’s powerful presence. “This is my son, Gaston. He and I will be staying with you and your family tonight.” Claude said, introducing the boy who looked a little ridiculous on his monster of a horse.

Gears started turning in Maurice’s head as he looked at the strappingly handsome young lad with a pleasantly surprised expression.

“It is impolite to remain mounted while the other party is on foot, Gaston.” Claude said, speaking over his shoulder at his son.

Gaston nodded, removing his feet from his stirrups and sliding down from the horse’s back in an agile motion. Maurice raised his eyebrows, impressed at the child’s skill. He certainly wasn’t any older than ten, yet he seemed perfectly comfortable riding a horse that was taller than a grown man at the shoulder. In fact, the beast was so large that he worried for the boy when he fell down - the height was so significant that his journey to the ground could no longer be described as ‘jumping’.

Gaston bent his knees upon impact with the ground for a graceful landing. He stood up straight, perfectly fine, and went to exchange polite greetings with the merchant.

The other children, seeing that the barbarian-looking man was in fact their benefactor, drew closer. A boy with sandy blonde hair, looking around ten years old, looked at the horse with awe and envy.

He moved over to tug at his father’s sleeve. “Dad, I want a horse too.” He said, whispering so his brothers wouldn’t hear.

Maurice ignored his son’s request, instead turning to speak to his children. “Children, greet baron La Fayette. His lordship is the one who so graciously offered his aid during our time of need.”

The boys and girls lined up next to each other at Margaret’s behest. They curtsied and bowed, displaying some of the etiquette they’d been made to learn for interacting with nobility.

Maurice stroked his moustache as he watched the lot of them. He was pleased to note that Anastasia hadn’t been obstinate about this. At least she had the sense to show some manners in front of other people.

Claude nodded at the lot of them, before turning to Maurice. “You have many children. My wife will be envious.”

Maurice’s expression suddenly became somewhat sorrowful. “Becoming a mother was my wife’s greatest joy. She loved every last one of her children dearly.”

Claude became silent for a moment, out of respect for the other man’s grief. Aside from Gaston, there was nobody who he loved more than his wife. He didn’t know what he would’ve done had he lost her.

Eventually, Maurice managed to return from his stupor. “I am mortified that you travelled all this way for our sakes, lord La Fayette. Yet, I am also extremely grateful for it; your presence will set my mind at ease tonight.”

Claude nodded before leaning forward to whisper the next sentence to Maurice so the children wouldn’t hear. “While Gaston and I were eager to meet your Le Marquand family, the true reason for our arrival is more… serious.”

Claude fixed Maurice with a somber gaze. “There have been reports of beasts roaming this area.”

Maurice’s eyes widened. “What manner of beasts are they? Wolves? Bears?”

Claude nodded, but his expression seemed uncertain. “One of those, most likely. I am well used to dealing with wild animals, so there is no need for concern.

Maurice looked unsettled, but he took Claude at his word. “Please continue with tonight’s preparations.” Mourice said, turning to Margaret.

The woman nodded. “’Yer lordship.” She said, cutseying to Claude as she walked past.

Claude nodded politely to the woman before turning to speak to Gaston. “Why don’t you go introduce yourself to the other children? You’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the years to come.”

Gaston didn’t seem overly enthused at the idea.

Claude huffed. His son was too anti-social.

He nudged the boy with his elbow, surreptitiously motioning him towards the peerlessly beautiful fairy in their midst.

Gaston rolled his eyes, but did as his father bade him.

Maurice noticed the exchange. He ran his fingers over the hat in his hand thoughtfully. If any individual from Villeneuve had a chance at stealing Anastasia’s affection away from Louis, then it would be this boy. She would never so much as glance at a commoner. Gaston was a little young for her, but Maurice wasn’t exactly spoiled for choice when it came to suitable suitors.

The old merchant grabbed the boy’s upper-arm before whispering in his ear. “That is my oldest daughter, Anastasia. If you wish to pursue her, then I won’t stop you. However, be aware that she’s had no shortage of attention from boys, so she’s rather prideful.”

Gaston glanced up at the old man, his bronze eyes twinkling. Smirking, he nodded.

‘Hmph, at least he has confidence.’ Maurice noted, as he looked at the boy’s departing back. ‘He’ll need it.’

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Gaston strode into the midst of the children, most of whom were currently busy helping with preparations for the night.

Eleven pairs of eyes turned to him at his arrival. Some stared openly, while others were more shy.

The person in question came to a halt in the middle of the twelve individuals, his posture casual. His eyes swept through the camp, glancing at every boy and every girl in turn. Finally, his gaze stopped on a picturesque girl wearing a simple, snow-white dress.

Anastasia paid no attention to the intruder. Getting leered at was a daily occurrence for her.

Gaston’s gaze roamed from her exposed ankles, to her snow-white arms and then to her slender neck. He was so blatant that some of the others started getting embarrassed just from watching him.

The oldest son, Bertrand, silently fumed as he watched this invader ogle his sister. He’d been getting into fights with other boys constantly ever since he could remember for this exact reason.

Unable to restrain himself, he advanced on the fellow who was still silently staring at his beautiful sibling.

“Will you not introduce yourself?” He said, practically shoving his face into Gaston’s.

Gaston finally drew his gaze away from Anastasia to look at Bertrand standing in front of him. He smiled charmingly, running his hand through his long, curly hair.

“Who else could I be, other than Gaston himself?” The boy clasped his leather vest, pulling it downwards in a sharp adjusting motion.

Bertrand looked at the kid in front of him with a slightly confused expression on his face. He wasn’t sure how to handle that introduction.

“Well… I am Bertrand. I don’t think your manner of staring was very polite.” He said, regaining his composure towards the end.

“If your sister was displeased, then surely she would have said something.” Gaston said, fiddling in his pocket as if he were looking for something. His eyes brightened as he found it - a small ferrous rock with golden crystals growing out of it.

He promptly ignored Bertrand and started walking to Anastasia who reclined comfortably on the grass. She was busy digging through the jewellery box she’d inherited from her mother.

Bertrand’s face turned red from being ignored. He stormed after Gaston, using every bit of willpower to keep himself from strangling the other boy. If it wasn’t for the fact that Sir Claude was their benefactor, he’d surely done it.

Arriving in front of the golden-haired teen, he buffed the rock against his linen pants before handing it to her. “A golden bauble to match your hair, maiden Anastasia.”

The girl glanced at the rock without looking at Gaston. After considering for a moment, she reached forward to take it from his hands. She took a golden ring from the jewellery box, holding it next to the rock. She turned them this way and that, analysing and comparing the gift.

“It isn’t gold.” She said decisively before flinging the rock over her shoulder into the woods, never to be found again.

The surrounding kids looked in the direction of where the golden rock had disappeared. If she didn’t want it, then surely she could have given it to one of them?

Gaston’s brow twitched a little, his face a mix between irritation and intrigue. “Indeed. It isn’t real gold, it’s fool’s gold.”

Anastasia flicked her hair over her shoulder, unimpressed. “I know what fool’s gold is. I’m a merchant’s daughter.”

Gaston opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a red-haired girl.

“Anna’s already rejected you. You don't need to say any more” Her freckled face looked cross as she stood in front of her sister like a bodyguard, arms crossed in front of her chest.

Bertrand naturally wouldn’t miss this opportunity. “Instead of bothering Anastasia, you should help us gather some dry wood for tonight’s fire.” He spoke authoritatively, like someone who was used to having their commands obeyed.

Gaston didn’t take any heed of his words. “I believe I’ll go for a hunt instead. I’m sure lady Anastasia has become tired of road-rations.” He turned on his heel, heading towards where his horse stood tied to a tree.

Bertrand’s face was cross, but inwardly he sneered. This kid was going to make a fool of himself. There were perhaps two hours left until twilight – how was he planning to hunt in that little time?

“The fire is important for all our safety, Gaston. I’m sure Anastasia appreciates your intentions, but it would be better if you assisted us instead.” Bertrand said in a reasonable tone. However, his thoughts on the inside were venomous.

‘Go ahead, you pretentious brat. Show Anastasia your incompetence.’

Gaston took a shortbow and a bundle of arrows from where they were stashed near the magnificent beast before heading in the direction of the forest.

However, before he could leave the little clearing, he was cornered by a boy around six years old.

“Does your horse have a name?” The child asked, a little shyly.

Gaston looked down at him. Despite being only a year younger than him, the boy was much smaller. Though, rather than the boy being short, Gaston was just freakishly tall. He was almost on eye-level with Bertrand, who happened to be five years older than him.

“His name is Charbonneau Archambault Babineaux IX.” Gaston said, staring the younger boy in the eyes with seriousness.

Everyone listening froze at that declaration, unsure of how to react.

The boy in front of Gaston furrowed his brows in confusion. “Why is his name so long?”

“He likes it that way.” Gaston said, slinging his quiver over his shoulder.

Charbonneau Archambault Babineaux IX made a neighing sound in affirmation.

The other kids were a little stunned. They didn’t know whether they should be scoffing or laughing at the crazy situation.

Claude looked up from where he was speaking softly to Mourice. “You are going hunting?”

Gaston nodded. “I wish to bag a few birds for tonight’s pot.”

“Be back before sundown.” Claude said, providing his son with unspoken permission.

Maurice’s gaze followed the lad as he disappeared into the forest. “You have much confidence in your son.” He said, levelling Claude with a serious gaze.

“Gaston grew up in these forests. He spends more time in there than in town, or even at his own home.” Claude’s gaze grew a little conflicted as he said this.

It sounded to Maurice that there was a story there somewhere.

“Regardless, I was asking you about the roads.” Claude said, emerging from his thoughts.

Maurice’s expression grew morose. “The road itself was safe, as you guaranteed. We encountered no banditry or anything of the sort, it’s just that…” Maurice hesitated, his expression growing a little ill.

Claude looked at the man questioningly.

“France seems to be falling apart. The people in some of the towns we passed… God! I worry that the world may be coming to an end.” Maurice raised both hands to rub at his face as he said this.

Claude remained silent. He had his ways of gathering information, so he knew much of what was going on. “You kept the children in the carriages?” He asked, looking at Maurice out of the corner of his eye.

“Dear Lord, yes! I would never subject them to such a thing. I naturally closed and locked the shutters as well. We needed to resupply; fortunately, Margaret was capable of handling the task by herself. The rest of us didn’t come close to… that.” Maurice shook his head morbidly once he finished talking.

“I wonder how I will raise my children in a world like this…” He took out a locket from his coat pocket as he spoke, opening it to reveal a drawing of his late wife. He turned to look at Claude with moistening eyes. “No place is safe, aside from a few select noble estates. For your aid… I will be eternally grateful. For saving me, for saving my children…” Mourice rubbed the tears from his eyes with a sleeve, careful not to let his children see his state.

He looked Claude with resolve in his gaze. “I am at the La Fayette family’s service. Whenever you give the order, I will be ready.”

Claude reached over to pat the merchant on his shoulder. “Jeanne and I want nothing more than for Gaston to be hale and happy. My wife in particular is set on finding a wife for him to marry. If one of your daughters would be willing, I think that would be enough.”

Maurice smiled. “He is a handsome lad. Out of my six daughters, I’m sure at least one would be honoured to wed him.”

However, the happiness didn’t last. A depressed mood soon fell over the two men. They looked at the children who chatted happily amongst themselves as they tended to the camp. In their hearts, they knew scenes like this would be scarce in the future.

The world was changing, and not for the better.

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