L’ange de Bretagne

by bLauRavn

Summary:

Although he was appointed Master Assassin, Arno Dorian's life hasn't changed much: discovering the Templars' plans, eliminating targets, seeking information. The usual routine, like his visits to Élise's grave.
Except that, one winter morning, a strange encounter will herald a new chapter in his life.

Madeleine Caradec is a simple Breton girl, a bit naive but with a good heart.
What she doesn't know, however, is that she is in a game bigger than her, pawn in the eternal fight between Assassins and Templars. Which will be stronger: a loyalty that has lasted for years or the feelings born from a new meeting? Who is the devil and who is the angel?

Notes:

• A translation of L'ange de Bretagne by The_Storyteller (always me)

English is not my mother language. If you notice any mistakes, please tell me =)

Chapter 1: The plan of the Templars

Créteil, December 1794.

It was only afternoon, but the incessant rain of that winter kept making its strength present, while a carriage was traveling along a country road. Inside it, a woman of about forty-five looked bored at that bucolic landscape, not far from Paris, until her eyes lit up as she saw an old villa. The woman smiled faintly, eager to reach her destination.

The Revolution had spared no corner of France, yet that old palace seemed not to have been the sad target of raids and destruction.

The carriage stopped at the entrance to the building and a servant immediately rushed to welcome the guest. After greeting her with a bow, the servant accompanied the woman inside the villa, guiding her through various rooms until they reached a door.

The man knocked three times and, after receiving an affirmative answer, opened the door wide and introduced the newcomer: -Madame Thérèse Beauchesne from Lyon.-

Thérèse Beauchesne smiled pleased, placing a brown lock behind her ear, and entered the living room where there were four other people.

-You are late, Thérèse- a man in his fifties exclaimed smiling, as he offered her a glass of wine.

-I am "fashionably" late, my dear Gauthier- the woman joked, accepting the drink.

-After all, in such a bad weather... Next time we should meet in Marseille or Cannes. They say that the Mediterranean air is a panacea- she then added, looking with mockery at a rather elderly man as he noisily blew his nose.

-Enough with the chatter. We didn’t gather here to chat about useless things- interrupted a man with a thick dark beard, an unsuccessful attempt to hide a scar on his jaw.

-Isidore is right- said another woman, with light hair and bulging eyes -I would say we can start our meeting.-

The five approached a large table, each taking a chair, then the man with a cold spoke: -As the oldest member present here, I, Réginald Chevalier, declare this meeting open in the presence of these brothers and sisters of mine: Gauthier Marchand, Ségolène Delacroix, Isidore Lefebvre and Thérèse Beauchesne. May the Father of Understanding guide us.-

-May the Father of Understanding guide us- the Templars answered in chorus, then sat down and waited for Réginald to continue the conversation.

After blowing his nose again, Mr. Chevalier continued: -As I believe you all know, the deaths of Germain and Robespierre were a severe blow to the French Templar Order. And all of you, I guess, know who is responsible for this- he explained, before taking a sheet and putting it in the center of the table: on the piece of paper there was a portrait of a young man with long hair tied in a tail, dark eyes and a scar under the left eye.

-Arno Dorian, bloody Assassin- Isidore growled -They should have killed him together with his father that day...-

-And instead they appointed him Master, in spite of everything. I'll never understand those anarchists...- Ségolène commented flatly.

A slight cough drew the attention of those present, then Réginald continued: -Needless to say, his presence is a big problem to be solved, besides the fact that at the moment there is no Grand Master in our Order...-

For the first time, Thérèse asked for the floor, while a smile appeared on her face: -What if we had some kind of competition among us?- she asked.

Ségolène rolled her eyes: -We're not in Versailles playing stupid noble games!- she protested, but Gauthier signaled her to shut up.

-Continue, Thérèse- he said, intrigued by the idea of the woman.

The latter smiled even more, then explained her idea: -Since the five of us are the only high-ranking Templars still living here in Paris, why not make things a little more competitive? The first one to kill Arno Dorian will be named the new Templar Grand Master. No rules on how to do it, as long as we don't kill each other. Otherwise it would be not very loyal, wouldn't it?-

The other Templars remained brooding for a few minutes, until Isidore broke the silence: -I'm in! You can't even imagine how much I want to kill that son of a bitch!- he exclaimed, bringing his hand to the scar.

Even Ségolène smiled faintly: -For once I agree with you, Beauchesne. I already have some ideas in mind...- she murmured in a cruel voice.

Gauthier, the closest to Thérèse, shook her hand and winked secretly from the others: -Maybe we can discuss some plans... in "private"? - he asked winking.

Réginald, sighing slightly for having been practically ignored, could not help but give his consent: -And so be it. The first of the five of us to bring proof that Arno Dorian is dead will succeed Germain in role of Grand Master of the Parisian Templar Order. I declare the session closed.-

 

Around nine in the evening, Thérèse was leaning on Gauthier's bare chest, in the privacy of a double bed.

-Despite the boredom of this meeting, I’m pleased to note that you have not lost your vigor- the woman murmured seductively, touching the Templar's jaw with a finger. The man lowered his face, kissing the woman on her lips and continuing down to her breast, which he almost reverently touched.

-My only regret, mon amour, is that we will have to separate soon. Are you sure you don't want to stay here for the night?- he asked as his hand slid towards her thigh.

Thérèse giggled and responded to the gestures of her lover with a quick kiss, and then left the sheets and began to dress: -As long as I would like to stay with you, mon chéri, I don't intend to leave too much advantage to those three idiots. I came up with a certain idea and I have to talk to a person- she explained as she tightened her corset.

She felt her lover's arms as they encircled her from behind: -At least let me come to you. I will give you time to discuss with this person, and then we could continue our "chat"...- Gauthier whispered in her ear, lightly touching it with his lips.

The Templar replied with a winking look, barely biting her lower lip: -This can be done...-

 

Fortunately, the return trip was shorter than that of the outward journey. The two Templars arrived at the small chalet that Thérèse had rented, and as soon as they crossed the threshold they were greeted by a woman of about sixty in servile clothes.

-Geneviève, take the gentleman to the guest room and then send Madeleine to me in the living room- she ordered the servant, who nodded with a slight bow.

The Templar therefore went into the living room and sat down on a small sofa, waiting patiently in front of the lit fireplace.

After a couple of minutes she heard light footsteps approaching with caution: -Did you call, madame?- asked a voice.

Thérèse turned to the owner of the voice: a girl of about twenty-five, with coppery hair tied in a severe bun, looked at her with reverence.

The woman motioned for her to come closer, observing how the reflection of the flames gave a reddish hue to the young woman's hair. She smiled satisfied for her intuition and motioned for the girl to sit next to her.

-My dear Madeleine, you know how much I care about you right?- she asked, and the young woman nodded silently.

-I welcomed you into my home almost ten years ago, saving you from a life of misery, if not worse. I took you out of this country during the darkest days of the Revolution. I gave you an education worthy of a bourgeois daughter, and you always obeyed me. I'm really proud of you- said the woman, to which the girl smiled just a little.

-And it is because I have so much faith in you that I want to ask you to do something very important- continued the Templar; she slipped her hand into her skirt’s pocket and took out the sheet of paper that portrayed Arno Dorian, then handing it to the girl.

-Don't be fooled by his good looks- she warned her sternly -He is actually a ruthless murderer.-

Madeleine jumped, shocked by that sentence. She looked at her mistress with a bewildered expression, and several seconds passed before she was able to speak: -What?! What should I do?-she asked her more and more worried.

Thérèse laughed good-naturedly: -Ah, my little Madeleine, you should see your face! I would never send you into a dangerous situation, I care too much about you! But you are the only person who can approach this man without arousing suspicion.-

Always worried, Madeleine asked the woman what she meant, then the Templar explained her plan: -You see, this man is part of a strange group of anarchists, and in the past he has affected many people I knew. He brought so much pain to their families: you had to see poor Thomas Lévesque, when they told him about his beloved Marie; or little Louise-Suzanne, when they told her that her poor father had been murdered during the celebrations for the king's imminent execution. But you can do something to help me and my friends: you have to get close to this criminal, find out his secrets and tell me everything you think is important. Only in this way will we be able to deliver him to justice and the punishment he deserves.-

Madeleine always seemed hesitant: -How can I get close to him? I don't even know...- she tried to protest, but she was silenced by her mistress.

-Don't say that, dear! You'll find a way, I'm sure. Now go to your room to rest, and tomorrow I will explain how to get to Paris and what to do once there- ruled the Templar, thus putting an end to the young woman's attempt to refuse; she lowered her head and, after wishing the woman good night, she went to her room.

 

Thérèse too went to her room, where she was surprised by the presence of Gauthier on her bed, completely naked.

-Do you really want to have a Master Assassin killed by a simple servant?- he asked amused. Thérèse undressed and, wearing only her corset, lay down in a mischievous way next to her lover who immediately began to kiss her.

-My dear Gauthier, I'm not as stupid as Isidore, who I bet is already thinking about how to kill him in the worst way; Dorian will not let himself be killed easily. No, I intend to discover some secrets of the Brotherhood first, and I'm sure my Madeleine will find a way- she explained, while she felt Gauthier's hand between her legs.

-Madeleine? Is that her name? She is very pretty, but she is more modest than a cloistered nun. Do you hope that someone like this will be able to seduce Dorian?- he asked, while causing the woman moans of pleasure.

Tired of those preliminaries, Thérèse climbed on top of the man and positioned herself astride, taking his erect member and placing it against her intimacy: -We'll see if my intuition is right, mon amour. Meanwhile, let's enjoy this moment...- she murmured seductively, lowering herself slowly and enjoying the pleasure that her lover gave her.

Chapter 2: Trust the crows

Paris, January 1795.

New Year, new life. And after Robespierre's Reign of Terror it was what everyone wanted.

Arno Dorian slowly breathed in the cold morning air as he headed to the Cimetière des Innocents; despite the commitments that came with his new rank, the Assassin always found time to visit Élise's tomb.

He passed the iron gate of the cemetery, practically deserted at that time of day, and walked the usual road, paying attention to the snow and ice on the ground. He then reached the tombs of the De la Serres and immediately felt a weight in his heart. He paid a silent homage to Julie and François De la Serre, then turned his full attention to the more recent tombstone.

-Hello Élise, Happy New Year- he murmured with affection. He squatted in front of the tomb, silently reading the year of birth and the year of death of the woman he had loved; there was a lump in his throat and his melancholy threatened for the umpteenth time to take possession of him, when he noticed a detail.

Only then did he notice some footprints around the two graves, and the snow on Élise's tombstone had been cleared. The Assassin bent down to observe the footprints, noting that they were fresh.

He got up with caution and using his special vision scanned the environment around him: and here it was, further on in the cemetery, a figure with a golden aura bending over another tomb.

He silently walked the road that separated him from his target, and was struck to discover the tombstone where that person was standing.

 

*****

“Oh my, I'm lost! Again!"

This was the only thought on Madeleine's mind on that Parisian morning. She had only been in the French capital for a week, but she just couldn't find her way around that huge and ever-moving city. And all that movement did nothing but confuse her. What kind of idea had Madame Beauchesne had!

She shook her head and tried to orient herself: at that time there were few people around, but she didn't have the courage to ask for information. Not without the risk of someone asking certain questions.

She was almost tempted to return to the boarding house where she was staying, to lock herself in her warm room and to postpone the search for her target to the afternoon, when a black shadow brushed her face.

She jumped, frightened, and she turned to the thing that she had caught her by surprise: a crow fluttered for a couple of meters before landing on a wall, croaked three times and then stared at the girl.

Madeleine stood still with her eyes wide with surprise. She instinctively put a hand around her neck, searching through the layers of fabric for the pendant that she wore tied to a leather strap. She immediately went back in time, to a morning not too different from today.

 

-Mom?- an eight-year-old girl called aloud. Little Madeleine quickly wiped a tear that threatened to wet her cheek when she finally found her mother at the edge of the woods.

A woman with thick red hair, bending over to pick some herbs, got up and went to meet the little girl: -What happens, storeen?- she asked worriedly.

Madeleine sniffed, then explained what had happened: -The priest called you a witch! He says you don't pray to the Lord and talk to demons! Why does he say these bad things?-

Brona, her mother, smiled lovingly and hugged the little girl: -He says this because he is an ignorant old man, because he does not accept that someone questions his authority. Especially if a woman does it. But I asked a friend of mine to help me- she told her.

Finished saying these words, the woman whistled a short tune and after a few seconds a large crow glided in her direction, landing a few meters away from her.

Brona approached the bird and took something that it was holding in the beak. She smiled with satisfaction and gave the crow a piece of bread as a form of thanks. She then turned to her daughter and showed her what she had taken from the bird: -You know what this is, don't you?-

Madeleine immediately recognized the crucifix the priest always wore, and she noticed that it was stained with some kind of dough.

-After lunch I will go and have a nice chat with our priest friend, who in addition to being a defender of morality is also very forgetful. If I find him, since in the afternoon he is always at the baker, and above all at his wife...- she said with a touch of malice.

The little girl, still amazed by what had happened, asked her: -How did you do it? Did you talk to the crow?-

Brona giggled amused: -No, ma storeen. That crow is my friend: I give it something to eat and it brings me some small gifts. And sometimes it helps me in certain situations- she explained.

She took her hand and together they walked towards their house: -Be always careful of the crows, my daughter. They know, they remember. If you do them a wrong or a favor, they won't forget it.-

And from the following day the priest never dared to speak ill of Brona and her mysterious abilities again.

 

Another croak brought Madeleine back to reality. The young woman saw that the crow flew for a short distance, leaning against a nearby wall, and it seemed to be waiting for her. The girl took a strong breath and began to follow that strange guide through the streets of Paris.

After some time the crow went through an iron gate, and the girl felt a long shiver run down her back.

"Of all the places, were you supposed to take me to a cemetery?" she wondered in her mind, troubled by that strange choice.

Trusting her instincts, Madeleine entered the graveyard and followed the crow in its mysterious flight. She walked past several tombstones, hugging her hood to protect herself from the cold, until the bird stopped by two graves.

-Wait, I'll make you some space- said the girl, moving the snow that covered the top of one of the two tombstones. She then began to observe them, not understanding why the crow had stopped there: they were from two different periods, one older and the other more recent, and they were the tombs of such a De la Serre family. She focused on the last one, a girl who died only the year before, as she guessed when she noticed the years etched in the stone.

“Poor girl, she was a little older than me. Who knows what happened to her" she wondered.

Suddenly the crow flapped its wings and took off again, guiding the girl into that labyrinth of stone and silence. The bird took her to another grave but, unlike before, it did not land on the tombstone. Instead it flew higher and higher until it disappeared among the Parisian rooftops and left the girl alone.

Madeleine adjusted a strand that had escaped from her hood, then she squatted in front of the grave: it was older than the ones she had previously seen, but still kept in good shape.

-Charles Dorian, died in 1776- she read to herself. She stood looking at the tombstone, asking herself a few questions in the meantime: why had that crow brought her there? What stories were hiding those people of whom only a few writings remained? And why did she seem to have heard that last surname before?

-Who are you? And what are you doing here?- asked someone behind her in an authoritative voice.

 

*****

Arno cautiously approached the intruder. He scanned them a second time, looking for any weapons, but he found nothing dangerous. Indeed, to his surprise he discovered that it was a woman.

Weighing each step he approached further and placed himself behind the figure, then spoke: -Who are you? And what are you doing here?-

The mysterious person literally jumped in the air, taken by surprise: a young girl turned to him with her eyes wide with fright, while she held a hand on her breastbone.

Arno was struck by her gaze, losing himself for a few seconds in the eyes of the mysterious young woman: they were of a strange blue-greenish hue, which for some reason reminded him of the stormy sea.

He shook his head, immediately returning serious: -Who are you?- he repeated, frowning.

Still shaken, the girl took off the hood that covered her head, revealing a thick hair with reddish reflections. She was breathing fast, while she fixed her eyes everywhere except the Assassin.

-So?- Arno said, starting to get impatient. The girl hadn't proved dangerous so far, but that wasn't a reason to let his guard down.

After a last tremor, the young woman uttered a single word: -Bran!-

The Assassin was totally blown away by that answer. The annoyance of just before was replaced by a confused expression: -Pardon?-

The young woman seemed to have realized only at that moment what she had said. Blushing conspicuously, she tried to compose herself and give an explanation: -You see, monsieur, it's a bit complicated. When I was a child my mother told me to trust the crows, and a little while ago there was one who brought me here. Then it flew away, I was reading this tombstone and then...-

She stopped, assuming a sad expression: -You probably think I'm crazy...-

Arno smiled a little, almost moved by that strange girl: -Let’s say it's a curious story. What is your name?- he asked.

Finally she introduced herself: -Madeleine Caradec. And you, monsieur?-

When the Assassin also said his name, Madeleine had a surprised expression. She remained motionless for a few seconds to observe the young man, then she turned to the tombstone where the crow had guided her: -Was he a relative of yours?-

Arno smiled sadly, while he looked at the tomb: -He was my father. I was eight when he died.-

Madeleine put a hand to her breastbone, struck by that sad story: -I'm sorry. And I understand you, sir. My mother died when I was sixteen, and after a few months I lost my father too.-

When he heard those words, Arno was surprised to find that they had something in common. He invited the young woman out of the cemetery and suggested that they walk together.

The morning air had warmed up slightly thanks to a few shy rays of sunshine: taking a few glimpses, the Assassin noticed how the sunlight accentuated even more the coppery reflections of the young woman.

-Would you like to tell me a little about you? What are you doing here in Paris?- asked Arno to break the ice.

Madeleine watched the street, now full of people, while she replied to the Assassin: -I grew up with my parents in a village near Concarneau, in Brittany. My father’s name was Yannick and he was a fisherman; my mother, on the other hand, was called Brona, she came from Ireland and was a seamstress, but she was also an expert in medicinal herbs and often helped women in childbirth.-

-After their death I tried to go on, but in that small village I had no luck. I tried to go to Quimper, but even there I couldn't find work. Things were getting difficult when an elderly noblewoman from Lyon decided to take me with her to her house, and so I became her personal servant.-

Arno interrupted her: -What happened during the Revolution?- he asked curiously.

The Breton resumed the conversation: -Immediately after the storming of the Bastille my mistress wanted to leave France, fearing the worst. And I can say that she had a great idea, given how things turned out. Anyway, she decided to go to England to some of her friends.-

-We only returned in October, but unfortunately she passed away shortly after Christmas. She left me some money and I decided to come to Paris to look for a job, but at the moment I only received refusals- she finally said, finishing her story.

They went on for a few meters in silence, then Arno turned to the young woman: -I know a place that is looking for new staff. It is called Café Théâtre and its main office is located in Ile Saint-Louis. If I were you I would give it a try- he suggested.

The girl's face lit up, surprised by that precious suggestion: -Thank you, sir! Tomorrow morning I'll go immediately to ask!- she exclaimed enthusiastically.

Arno smiled back: -It's not very far from Notre Dame. Go to the cathedral and then ask a few passersby. It’s a well known place, it will not be difficult to find it- he explained to her before leaving and finally going down his street.

While walking through the streets of Paris, Arno could not get the image of Madeleine out of his mind. She was a peculiar girl, no doubt, but she inspired him with confidence.

There was only one thing that troubled him: her physical resemblance, in some features, to Élise. He shook his head, concentrating on climbing a wall. Arrived on the roof, the Assassin continued on his reconnaissance tour, deciding later to go to the Café and chat with Madame Gouze.

 

*****

Madeleine couldn't believe her luck. Not only had she solved the problem of her stay in Paris, but she had found the goal of her mistress; and he had even suggested a job in one of the most prominent places in the city!

She heard a loud croak above her, and smiling she greeted the crow: -Trugarez, bran! Thank you, crow!-

All that cheerfulness, however, was clouded by a feeling of remorse: the part concerning the "old noblewoman" of Lyon had been an idea of Madame Beauchesne, inspired by reality but with some differences. Even if only slightly, she had lied to Arno. And also the fact that her mistress had described the man as a ruthless and arrogant person had left her perplexed: apart from the understandable initial distrust, Arno had instead shown himself to be very courteous towards her.

Lost in her thoughts, Madeleine continued her walk to her guesthouse. Assuming she could find it, in the midst of that confusion.

Chapter 3: The Café Théâtre

Sunday dress? Perfect.

Hair tied in a braid? Okay.

Lucky charm? In its place.

It was probably the fourth time that Madeleine had checked that everything was in order as she made her way to the Café Théâtre. She was breathing on her hands, trying to warm them, when she finally reached her destination.

The Breton looked at the building in disbelief, struck by its size and elegance. More than a café, she felt like she was in front of a nobleman's residence!

Although it was early in the morning, the place was already teeming with people, judging by the chatter and laughter that could be heard coming from inside.

Madeleine looked for her pendant and squeezed it tightly for courage. She thought back to the various attempts she had made in the previous days to look for a job: most of the people she asked had blocked her at the first hint, saying that they didn’t need new manpower; only a couple of them had addressed her with kindness, while others had chased her away as soon as they heard her accent, or just because she was a woman.

The Breton became anxious: what would have happened if she had not been hired? The Café was her last chance to stay in Paris; what would Madame Beauchesne think if she failed her mission?

Taking a deep breath, trying to calm down, Madeleine took the last steps that separated her from the Café Théâtre.

 

A strong smell of coffee pervaded the air of a large hall where numerous customers sat at the tables, enjoying a cup of the aforementioned drink accompanied by some sweets. At the back of the room, on a small stage, a satirical operetta was staged that mocked the nobility of the ancien régime, causing loud laughter among the spectators.

For a few seconds the young woman watched, distracted by the dialogues of the actors and the intense aroma of coffee.

-Can I help you?- asked suddenly a voice beside her.

Madeleine recovered instantly and turned to the person that had just spoken: a woman with long dark hair, wearing an elegant green dress and a showy feathered hat, who was observing her kindly.

She adjusted a rebellious lock and replied: -I was looking for the owner of the place, or someone that manage it.-

The woman smiled: -Perfect, because you have them in front of you. Charlotte Gouze, to serve you- she said holding out her hand.

Madeleine returned the greeting and introduced herself, unable to hide a certain surprise: - Forgive me, madame. I didn't mean to offend you- she justified herself.

Charlotte chuckled: -Don't worry, I got worse reactions. But let's sit down at a table, so you can explain to me being comfortable.-

Having finished saying these words, Madame Gouze motioned the girl to follow her to a small table next to the main room, near the counter. She asked her guest if she wanted anything, then she ordered a waitress to bring two cups of chocolate and some cookies. When their order arrived,  Madeleine wrapped her hands around the cup, enjoying the warmth of the drink that warmed her numb hands. She inhaled deeply, not to miss a particle of that delicious scent: if she remembered correctly she had drunk chocolate only twice in her entire life, once when she was a child at Christmas and another, unexpectedly, offered by Geneviève a few years earlier.

-So, what brings you here to the Café?- Gouze asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Madeleine composed herself, then explained that she needed to find a job. She told her about her previous attempts, all of which had failed, and assured her that she would accept any job, even the humblest ones.

While she talked to her, Charlotte observed her movements, noticed the way she expressed herself and any gestures, when at a certain point she interrupted her: -Can I see your dress?-

Confused by that question, the young breton nevertheless obeyed and approached the woman so that she could observe her dress.

-These embroideries are delightful! I've never seen anything like it!- exclaimed Gouze, touching some embroidery on her sleeve with her fingertip.

-I made them myself, my mother taught me- Madeleine explained, blushing slightly.

Madame Gouze rubbed her chin with her finger thoughtfully, then she motioned for the young woman to follow her beyond the hall. As she followed the woman Madeleine gazed in wonder at the stairs and corridors she glimpsed as they passed, wondering where they led and how big the whole building actually was, until the woman led her into a large room full of stage clothes.

Charlotte then called another woman, about fifty, and introduced her to the young woman: -Madeleine, this lady is Marie-Jeanne Rose Bertin, the creator of all these wonderful dresses. As well as- she added in a whisper -the famous former seamstress of the queen, whose wonders are known throughout Europe.-

-You could have avoided, Charlotte- Bertin replied gruffly, but with a smile on her lips.

Madame Gouze disregarded that remark and turned to the latter: -Rose, dear, I found you a new assistant seamstress.-

She then turned to the girl: -You will be on probation for a week, and hopefully you will be hired. You will mainly take care of the tailoring, but if needed you will help out in the kitchen. Ask one of the girls to show you the Café, and if you need anything please contact me or the intendant- she explained to an incredulous Madeleine, then she returned to the main hall.

And so it was that the young Breton found a job in Paris.

 

By now almost two weeks had passed and Madeleine got used to the Café and its occupants: she had made friends with Célestine, one of the first waitresses of the place who had acted as her guide, describing the places and rooms where they were allowed to go. She had also been lucky enough to be able to use one of the rooms made available in the Café, for those who did not have their own accommodation.

She in general got along well with all the staff; the only person she found unpleasant was Domitille, a waitress who sometimes took part in theatrical performances and who therefore behaved as if she were an opera singer at the Opéra national in Paris.

The only place she was not allowed to go was the Club Hall, a place where a mysterious steward often gathered, so Célestine had told her, and some friends of his. Madeleine had found strange that such a room was in a café, just as she had often glimpsed some hooded figures going into another room to practice fencing (which was even stranger), but she had preferred not to ask questions.

Actually, there was one thing that asked herself: how would she manage to find Arno Dorian?

 

One day she was sewing a tear on a shirt when she heard some excited voices coming from the corridor.

-What happens?- she asked Célestine.

The waitress took a distracted glance at the door, where she glimpsed Domitille and two other excited girls: -Probably the steward has arrived- she muttered carelessly.

Noticing the Breton's confused gaze, Célestine arranged the clothes she had in her hands and signaled the girl to follow her: -I don't think you've met him before. Come on, come with me.-

The two left the room and headed for the main hall, from where they heard a resounding “Bonjour, monsieur!”, presumably from Domitille and her friends.

Célestine rolled her eyes: -Those three should stop acting the giddy goat! As if, after so little, mister Dorian was already interested in other women- she said in a critical tone.

Madeleine, upon hearing that name, stopped at the entrance to the hall: opposite the three waitresses, next to Madame Gouze was a young man with tied hair, dark eyes and a scar under his left eye.

-You?!- she exclaimed surprised, attracting the attention of those present.

Arno Dorian noticed her and smiled at her: -Bonjour, Madeleine. Madame Gouze was telling me about your great tailoring job. I wanted to propose to her something, but now that you are here I can propose it directly to you: I wanted to ask you if you would also like to take care of my personal wardrobe. Obviously with adequate remuneration- he said.

Madeleine could not believe it: not only was Arno Dorian the steward of the Café, and therefore she would often cross paths with him, but by working so closely with him she could discover what her mistress was interested in! It was a golden opportunity!

-I gladly accept!- the young woman exclaimed enthusiastically. In her mind she began thanking all the saints on the calendar, hoping to catch the one who had accomplished that miracle.

Arno thanked her for her availability, adding to reach agreement with the intendant for any questions, then took the road to his room on the first floor.

But while Célestine complimented her on her promotion, Madeleine did not catch the angry and envious look that Domitille gave her.

Chapter 4: Brezhoneg

Almost a month had passed since Madeleine had become Arno's personal seamstress, but the more time passed the less she understood what the heck the man did for a living: he didn't reside permanently at the Café, he often met with those strange hooded men and went around armed (it was not so strange, given the times, but for a café manager...).

Taking care of his clothes, Madeleine had noticed numerous pockets and a recurring mark on the left sleeve of the jackets at the wrist, as if Arno always had something tied to it. But the thing that worried her most was finding traces of struggle on his clothes, and sometimes even blood.

Madame Beauchesne had not lied about the fact that the young man could be involved in criminal acts, yet the girl struggled to imagine that man so courteous and charming doing something so heavy.

 

One afternoon Madeleine's doubts were finally cleared up.

She was in the market for some errands on behalf of Babette, the cook of the Café. She had just finished buying some vegetables and was walking away from the vendor's counter, when she noticed a man watching her: he was very tall and strong, and a thick dark beard barely hid a deep scar on his jaw.

For some reason, Madeleine seemed to have seen that person before, but the idea did not reassure her at all. And, worst of all, that man was now approaching her.

-You are Beauchesne's maid, aren't you?- he asked arrogantly.

The young woman barely nodded, feeling shivers down her spine.

-You know who I am, right?- he asked again, a cruel smile appearing on his face.

Madeleine bit her lip nervously. She thought of the long meetings her mistress sometimes organized, trying to remember the name of her threatening interlocutor.

-Le... Lefevre?- she stammered fearfully, swallowing hard with anxiety.

The man just chuckled: -Almost, but I see you have a good memory. I just wanted to tell you something, baby- he said lowering his voice, so that only the Breton could hear him.

-If I were you I would go to your lady, as long as she is not too busy fucking Marchand, and I would tell her not to worry about the position of Templar Grand Master, because it will soon be mine- he added pompously, puffing up his chest with pride.

Madeleine was stunned: -The what?- she let out.

For a moment, Isidore Lefebvre made a surprised expression: -You don't know anything? Don't you know what we, Thérèse and the others do?- he asked almost incredulously.

When the young woman replied in the negative, Isidore shrugged: -Well, know that soon the Café Théâtre will have to find a new steward, because Dorian's head will soon be towering on a pike- he said finally, giving one last cruel look at the young and then going on his way.

Madeleine was shocked by what had just happened to her. She hadn't understood a damn what Lefebvre meant with the Templars and with her mistress, but one thing was certain: Arno was in danger.

 

Clutching the shopping basket, the girl walked as quickly as possible, slowed down by the throng of people filling the streets. In her heart she hoped that Arno was still at the Café, because otherwise she wouldn't know what to do.

While she was avoiding a group of guards she felt her heart beating madly; for too long she hasn't felt so anxious about someone.

She had just passed Notre Dame Cathedral when a blue spot caught her eye, she turned her head and saw Arno walking away from her.

-Monsieur Dorian!- she called out to him as she ran in his direction.

Arno stopped, looking around to see who had called him; when she reached him she noticed his frown, as if someone had thrown him out of bed in the middle of the night.

-Hello Madeleine. I'm sorry but I'm in a hurry, see you later- he said, starting to walk again.

-Wait! It's a very important thing!- replied the girl, trying to stop him.

-I’m sure that madame Gouze will be able to resolve the matter. Good day.-

-But...-

-I said good day!- the man retorted in exasperation, realizing too late that he had scared the young woman.

Seeing her start, he immediately regretted his reaction: -I'm sorry, I beg your pardon Madeleine. Unfortunately I have an urgent business to attend to, but I promise you that as soon as I get back you can tell me everything that worries you- he said in an attempt to reassure her.

The young woman could not answer, so Arno had to say goodbye to her quickly and go out into the streets of Paris. He tried to focus on the mission that awaited him, but the weight he felt on his stomach made things more difficult.

 

The Breton was stunned: never before had Arno addressed her so abruptly. She knew very well that he was a man with many commitments, some of which he didn't seem to like either, but she was still disappointed.

But her discomfort was immediately replaced by anxiety: Madeleine felt cold drops of sweat just wet her forehead, while a thousand thoughts invaded her mind.

"What do I do now?" she wondered constantly. What other means did he have to warn Arno of the danger? What would madame Gouze have said?

Here is the solution!

Madeleine ran at breakneck speed to the back of the Café Théâtre, where a small door led directly to the back of the kitchens.

-Where is madame Gouze?- she asked breathlessly, catching the kitchen attendants by surprise.

Babette replied: -She's busy in the Club Hall. Maybe in half an hour she'll be free and... Where are you running!-

The young woman dropped her shopping basket and ran out of the kitchens, headed for the Club Hall: surely Gouze could have contacted the hooded ones, and they could have helped Arno. She didn't mind breaking one of the Café rules, madame Gouze would understand.

She ran through various corridors until she reached the staircase that led to the Club Hall.

-Madame Gouze! Madame Gouze!- she called out as she walked down the steps. She had just left the last step, when she felt someone block her by the arm. A man was hidden in the half-light, and the faint light of the torches showed only the lower part of his face and a slightly unkempt beard.

-This is forbidden area- the latter said with a firm voice.

-Please, I have to talk to madame Gouze!- the girl begged him, while she tried to free herself from his steel grip.

The hooded man tightened his grip even more: -Come back later. You can't stay here- he replied with a hint of anger.

Madeleine gritted her teeth in pain. Desperate, she screamed at the top of her lungs: -MAR PLIJ, AOTROU!!! -

Finally the man released the pressure on her arm, and someone came to them.

-Is it possible to know what is happening?- Gouze asked, slightly annoyed by all that noise.

Before Madeleine or the mysterious guard could explain themselves, another hooded man turned to the latter: -Let her go, Gerard. And don’t worry that she hasn’t insulted you.-

The girl was surprised by those words, but she recovered immediately and turned to Gouze: -Arno is in danger, madame! A man stopped me saying that he would kill him, he talked about masters and temples but I didn't understand anything! Please, you have to help him!- she explained through tears, praying there was still time to save him.

The expression on the faces of Charlotte Gouze and the two men changed immediately. They exchanged a nod of assent, then the two hooded men sprinted towards a corridor that led to another room; first, however, the second man turned to Madeleine with affection: -Everything will be fine, plac'h.-

Left alone, Gouze put a hand on the shoulder of the young Breton to reassure her: -It will be all right, dear. Gerard and Laurent will be able to reach Arno- she said, taking up the words of the Assassin.

Madeleine let out a sob, while tears continued to streak her cheeks: -Are you not angry with me?- she asked worriedly.

-No, don't worry. It was for an emergency and you were right to warn me. Now go recover yourself, if you don't feel able to work I'll explain to Rose- Gouze answered, reassuring her further.

The young woman thanked her, and after wiping away the last tears she went to her room ignoring the confused looks of the other attendants, run to see what had happened.

She finally reached the small but cozy room, took off her shoes and dropped onto the bed. She took the pillow and hugged it to her chest like it was a puppet, then buried her face in it. She pushed the more dramatic scenarios out of her mind, and prayed that Mr. Dorian was still alive. But a doubt crept into her mind: was it only for the mission entrusted to her by her mistress, or did she really care about Arno?

 

By now it was late in the evening and the pangs of hunger were becoming more insistent. Madeleine left her room to go to the kitchen, where Babette was waiting for her with a bowl of hot soup in her hand.

-Take it dear. You made me worry a lot before, you know?- the cook joked, handing her the bowl.

The girl accepted more than willingly and ate heartily with the other attendants, exchanging some chat and gossip about the latest news from Paris.

All of a sudden Célestine entered the kitchen, attracting the attention of those present. On her face there was a serious expression, and she seemed to hide a feeling of pain with difficulty.

-They just brought Mr. Dorian back- she announced.

Someone let out a gasp, taken by surprise by that unexpected news.

-Is he okay?- asked Ophélie, one of the waitresses.

Célestine took a deep breath, then she replied: -He's in bad shape. They told me that he already was seen by a doctor, but I'm afraid he won't be able to do much for a while.-

Concerned murmurs filled the air, giving space to hypotheses about what might have happened to the steward of the Café Théâtre. Madeleine sighed slightly, grateful for that miracle: although wounded, Arno was still alive.

After dinner, some girls decided to spend more time together, chatting in front of the large fireplace in the kitchen; others, tired from work, preferred to go to bed, including Madeleine.

She was on her way to her room, but on the way she met madame Gouze. The woman noticed her and approached her with a melancholy expression on her face.

-Is everything okay, Madeleine?- asked the woman.

The girl just nodded, but she began to feel an unpleasant sensation in her stomach: it was as if someone had placed a huge boulder on her, impossible to remove. She began to feel a sense of guilt, as if she somehow felt responsible for the ambush on Arno.

-How is he?- she asked instead.

Charlotte Gouze seemed to understand what was tormenting the young woman. She put a hand on her shoulder and accompanied her upstairs: -It’s not your fault, Madeleine. Indeed, if that man hadn't told you about his plan, Mr. Dorian would be much worse by now. Maybe he wouldn't even be here anymore.-

At those words the girl opened her eyes wide, incredulous.

Gouze then explained what she meant: -When Gerard and Laurent, the men you met at the Club, managed to rescue him, they found in his pocket a counterfeit ticket that imitated a person we know. A trap, of course, but so well done that we believed in it too. Without you, Arno would have died.-

That news should have cheered her up, and it did; but at the same time it caused her a sense of uneasiness. Isidore Lefebvre had hinted at a Grand Master about something, and her mistress also seemed involved. Did she really have something to do with what the man had said? What was the point of spying on Arno Dorian to bring him to justice, if a friend of madame Beauchesne had then tried to kill him?

While she was thinking about these questions, Madeleine did not realize she was standing in front of the door of the Café steward's personal room. The door was ajar, and a little later Gouze came out.

-He told me that he wanted to talk to you, but he is asleep now- explained the woman.

A shudder went through the girl, suddenly anxious: -Can I... Can I see him?-

Madame Gouze observed the room she had just left, hesitant, but finally she agreed: -Okay, but try not to wake him- she recommended.

The young woman thanked her, then the woman turned her heels and went down the stairs. Left alone, Madeleine took a deep breath, turned the handle and entered monsieur Dorian's room.

 

It was not the first time that the girl went to Arno's personal room because of her work as a seamstress, but every time she was fascinated by the elegance of the furnishings, which were both simple and classy.

Since it was evening the room was quite dark, lit only by the fireplace and a candle placed on the bedside table near the steward's bed.

Weighing each step to avoid making noise, Madeleine crossed the room, climbed the mezzanine step and, finally, observed the man lying on the bed.

In the dim candlelight, the young girl held back a sob: a purple bruise had already formed on Arno's right cheekbone, while his lower lip was still swollen from a bad blow he had received; on his chest, even if covered by the sheets, some bandages could be seen that covered who knows what wounds.

Célestine was right: he was really in a bad shape.

She returned to look at his face, noticing some movements of the eyebrows. To be safe, Madeleine checked the temperature on his forehead, hoping it wasn't a nascent fever. She looked around and saw a basin with a pitcher beside it, so she walked over and dipped a piece of cloth into the container filled with fresh water. She then returned to Arno and placed the wet handkerchief on his forehead.

While she refreshed his face, Madeleine carefully observed possible reactions from the man, but apart from a sigh nothing happened. Feeling calmer, the girl continued to pass the handkerchief and look at his face, catching details impossible to notice on a normal day: the scar under the eye, of unknown origin to most; his full lips, barely parted in sleep at that moment; the long-lashed eyes, which drove some of the attendants so mad.

She was fascinated by those eyes that at that moment hid two dark and sweet irises. Like chocolate, or like...

-Menn- Madeleine murmured. Yes, they reminded her of it.

Blushing slightly, the young woman turned away from Arno's face. Instead, her attention fell on his hands, which remained outside the blanket. She brushed the closest one, noticing long, tapered fingers that contrasted with numerous calluses.

“Hands like an artist, almost like a musician” thought the girl. Which, given what had happened, did not correspond to reality.

At one point Madeleine noticed that the fire in the fireplace had weakened. She went to put some pieces of wood which she arranged with the poker. She then sat there in front of it, reaching out her hands to the flames to warm herself.

She closed her eyes and with her mind went back to her childhood, when there were evenings of celebration and big fires were lit around which people danced, while the musicians played and sang to cheer up the spirits. One song in particular resurfaced from her memories:

 

Ev chistr 'ta Laou, rak chistr zo mat, loñla

Ev chistr 'ta Laou, rak chistr zo mat

Ev chistr 'ta Laou, rak chistr zo mat

Ur blank, ur blank ar chopinad loñla

Ur blank, ur blank ar chopinad.

 

Madeleine continued to hum, savoring the joy of those happy memories, when at one point she had the feeling of being observed. She opened her eyes abruptly and saw Arno smiling at her.

-You have a beautiful voice- the man murmured.

The girl was petrified: she felt her heart beating madly, while anxiety made her breathless. She began to fidget, covering her mouth and hiding her face behind her hands: -Please, I didn't want to. I won't do it again, I beg you. Don't report me...- she begged almost on the verge of tears.

Arno was confused by her reaction, unable to understand the reason for those words. With great effort he sat up and motioned the girl to reach him.

-What should I report you for?- he asked her worriedly, once Madeleine sat down next to his bed.

Quickly wiping away a tear, the young woman explained: -The revolutionary government wants only French to be spoken. They say that the patois, the regional languages, are linked to the monarchy, because, not knowing French, the lower classes didn’t understand what was happening. That’s why they don’t want them to be spoken, and that’s why they want to cancel them. My old mistress also forbade me to speak Breton, but I don't want to give up my language. I don't want to give up a part of me...-

Madeleine kept her eyes down, ready for any reproach. But she heard no word of condemnation. In fact, she felt Arno's hand on hers as he tapped it gently. She then raised her eyes, seeing a faint smile on the man's face.

-Here you are free to speak any language you want, Madeleine. None of us will report you, I can guarantee you. I, Gouze and the others do everything to ensure that anyone who works here is safe both inside and outside the Café- Arno reassured her.

If until before she felt only long shivers of fear, now the Breton felt invaded by a tender and reassuring warmth that dissolved all the tension she felt before.

-Thank you, Mr. Dorian. It means a lot- she said gratefully.

The Assassin smiled at her again: -That's the least I can do after today. My "colleagues" told me what happened: if you hadn't warned them...- he broke off with a sigh, immediately returning serious.

Madeleine tightened the hem of her dress, immediately nervous.

Shyly, the young woman expressed the doubts that had gripped her since the late afternoon: -Why did they attack you? What do you actually do?-

Arno thought for a few seconds, asking himself several questions: -You are right. Unfortunately for you, you have found yourself embroiled in something very big and dangerous. I will explain everything to you as soon as I feel better, I promise you- he replied in a serious tone.

-What I don't understand- he added immediately after -is why my assailant told you about his plan. Either he was very stupid, or he was very sure he could succeed.-

Madeleine swallowed hard: -I don't know.-

She hated that situation, but she was forced to lie fearing that she could be wrongly accused of complicity, given the link between her mistress and the Templar.

Arno sighed, due to his tiredness: -I must tell you another thing, Madeleine. I apologize for the way I behaved towards you. You didn't deserve to be treated like that- he said sorry.

The young woman hinted at a shy smile: -It's okay, monsieur Dorian. The important thing is that you are still alive.-

The Assassin returned the girl's kindness, then added: -One last thing. At least when we're alone, don't call me monsieur Dorian. It makes me feel terribly old- he joked.

Madeleine had the impression of feeling her cheeks blush, but she did not know if it was from embarrassment or otherwise. Smiling even more, she replied: - Okay... Arno.-

Notes:

P.S.: from wikipedia: The French monarchy was not concerned with the minority languages of France, spoken by the lower classes, and required the use of French for government business as part of its policy of national unity. During the French Revolution, the government introduced policies favouring French over the regional languages, which it pejoratively referred to as patois. The revolutionaries assumed that reactionary and monarchist forces preferred regional languages to try to keep the peasant masses underinformed. In 1794, Bertrand Barère submitted his "report on the patois" to the Committee of Public Safety in which he said that "federalism and superstition speak Breton".

P.P.S.: the song that Madeleine hums is "Son ar chistr", here you can listen to Alan Stivell's version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v80jZ_ZI-Ec

Chapter 5: A bad joke

Paris, March 1795.

Spring had now arrived and the sun was warming the streets of the French capital with its warm rays. But inside the Café Théâtre someone with a stormy soul was moving.

-I can not believe it! He didn't even deign to look at me!- Domitille exclaimed, furious, as she went back to the laundry.

Ophélie rolled her eyes, preparing to hear yet another complaint from the girl.

Punctually, Domitille vented: -Mr. Dorian didn't want any help with the bathroom! As soon as I poured the last bucket in the tub, he sent me away, saying he didn't want to be bothered by anyone! And I also wore my special blouse!- she said angrily, approaching a mirror and gazing at her own reflection, as well as the deep neckline that allowed a glimpse of the décolleté.

Ophélie sighed: -It's useless, Domitille. Mr. Dorian is not interested in anyone in particular.-

Even more furious, Domitille turned to the other girl: -So how do you explain that that Breton peasant continues to buzz around him?! I know for a fact that he asked her to help him with the medications. What does that butter-eater have more than me!?-

Ophélie would have gladly answered her by pointing out her lack of humility, but she preferred not to become the next target of the waitress-actress. She finished folding the shirts she had just ironed and she headed for the door: -As soon as they cooled down, take them to Mr. Dorian- she said to the other, and left the room.

Domitille paced in a circle in an attempt to calm down and think. Madeleine hadn't done anything in particular to her, but she couldn't tolerate the fact that Arno had taken a liking to her from the early days. At a certain point her gaze fell on the freshly ironed shirts, and a diabolical idea began to form in her mind.

She heard the door open and saw the Breton enter.

“Speak of the devil” she thought sourly.

Without even saying goodbye, she took the shirts and handed them to Madeleine: -Dearest, it’s perfect timing! You have to bring these shirts to monsieur Dorian's room, he needs them very quickly!- she exclaimed with feigned glee.

Madeleine looked at her confused: -But I thought he was busy...-

-Oh no, oh no! He actually went to the Training Room for a while to discuss a few things, and it will take him a long time to go! Come on, what are you waiting for? Monsieur Dorian will be pleased to see the shirts ready- she explained the other, underlining her last sentence in a persuasive voice.

Convinced by those words, Madeleine greeted Domitille and went out with the shirts in her hand, unaware of the cruel smile that appeared on the lips of the waitress-actress.

 

As she climbed the stairs to the first floor, Madeleine thought about the progress of her mission. Unfortunately, she wasn't doing well at all.

Not that she hadn't sought information: she had asked the other maids and attendants, she had tried to discreetly overhear the various hooded characters; but she had found nothing important or dangerous about Arno.

Most likely madame Beauchesne would not have liked this stalemate at all. In addition, the young woman had no idea how to get in touch with her mistress, and in those months she had never been seen or heard.

She sighed: searching through Arno's personal belongings was too risky, especially when he was present at the Café. She would wait for the right moment, only she didn't know when.

 

She finally reached Arno's room and entered it. She glanced at the desk, but she only noticed a letter just started and with no information. She then made her way to the man's bed, upon which she placed the shirts. Turning to leave, Madeleine saw that the bathtub was full, beside it Arno was drying his hair.

And apart from a towel on his head, he wasn't wearing anything else.

The two stood motionless, completely surprised by each other's presence. There was so much silence that you would have heard a pin drop.

Then they both seemed to come to life again: Arno suddenly lowered the towel to his lower abdomen, red in the face; but poor Madeleine could feel her face boiling up to her ears, flushed with such an embarrassing situation. She immediately turned her face away and ran towards the exit of the room.

She had only taken a few steps when suddenly Arno called her: -Madeleine, wait! Stop for a moment.-

The young woman obeyed, but refused to look him in the face: -Sorry, I didn't want to! I swear I’ve seen nothing! I actually saw, but... Oh my God, I didn't know!- she mumbled, justifying herself.

Still behind the screen, Arno asked her who had told her to bring the shirts to his room.

-Domitille. She told me you were in the Training Room discussing something, and that it would take you a long time. I don't...- explained the young woman. Then a horrible thought occurred to her, and her embarrassed red turned to a vermilion of anger.

-That snake! That hag !! That... that... louskenn!!! -

An amused laugh attracted her attention: wrapped in a large towel, and luckily with a pair of underwear on, Arno looked at her smiling: -I have no idea what you said, but it sure is not a compliment.-

Madeleine looked down and put a hand on her breastbone, as if to squeeze something: -I'm sorry, I shouldn't have believed Domitille.-

When she looked up at him, Arno was one step away from her. The man looked at her with understanding: -Hey, it's not your fault that Domitille wanted to play this joke on you. But you can be sure she won't go unpunished.-

The Breton jumped at those words, to which Arno reassured her: -I will talk to madame Gouze later. The dismissal is perhaps excessive, but something will be done.-

Madeleine smiled faintly: even if Domitille had made her spite, she did not want her to be fired for this. She then thanked the man and was going to leave, but Arno called her again.

 

Almost shyly, the Assassin asked her if she could help him with the gauze. The Breton accepted, so she followed him behind the screen with the tub, where there was also a medicine cabinet.

For a while the two were silent, while Madeleine passed the disinfectant and bandaged the wounds of the man, now on the mend. She watched old and new marks left by who knows how many struggles, with more and more questions in her head.

She took courage and, after taking a deep breath, said: -I know that maybe it's not the right time, but you told me you were going to tell me what happened to you, Arno. And who you really are.-

She felt the man's back stiffen slightly, and then relax immediately afterwards: -You are right, after all I promised you- she heard him say.

As soon as Madeleine had finished medicating him, Arno put on a shirt and trousers, then motioned the young woman to take a seat on one of the chairs in the room.

Again there was a moment of silence, as if Arno was deciding how to begin, and the young woman waited patiently.

Finally, Arno took his watch and began to tell: -It all started almost twenty years ago, with the death of my father. This is the only thing I have left of him- he explained, showing her the broken glass dial.

-A man, François De la Serre, decided to take me with him and raise me almost like a son. What I did not know, and what I discovered after his murder, is that he was the Templar Grand Master of France, a group of people perpetually searching for mysterious artifacts to help them subjugate people's freedom in the name of world order.-

-But another group exists to fight them, the Assassins. And I am one of them, as well as other people around the world- finished the man, closing the clock and pointing to the girl the symbol of the Brotherhood engraved on the lid.

After those words Madeleine remained silent, even more confused by Arno's revelation.

-So, the man who attacked you...- she asked, afraid of his response.

-Isidore Lefebvre, a violent and unscrupulous man. But now he will no longer be able to harm anyone- replied the Assassin.

The young woman felt a lump in her throat: was it possible that madame Beauchesne was one of such wicked people?

 

Madeleine was still lost in her thoughts when she heard Arno's voice calling her. She recovered quickly, apologizing for her distraction.

The Assassin smiled at her: -Don’t worry, I understand that what I told you has struck you. Of course this information must remain secret, but I trust in your discretion.-

The young woman nodded firmly: -I swear it, Arno. I will not tell a soul.-

-Good. But now I have a question for you- the man replied.

Madeleine suddenly felt nervous. She straightened her back as she nervously rubbed the hem of her skirt.

Arno scratched his head, as if he were ashamed of what he was about to ask her: -I have noticed that often, when you are nervous, you put your hand near your neck. It seemed rather curious to me and, well, I was wondering what you keep tied to that lanyard.-

The girl was surprised by that request, and all her nervousness subsided. She then took off the necklace and showed the pendant that she carried tied to it: a small silver circle that represented two hands holding a heart surmounted by a crown.

-It's a claddagh, a typical symbol of an area in the west of Ireland, where my mother came from. It is usually in the shape of a ring: the heart represents love, the hands friendship and the crown loyalty. It’s the only jewel my mother has ever owned, in addition to the wedding ring- explained the young woman.

Arno observed in fascination that little jewel, admiring the skill of the mysterious goldsmith who had created that precious pendant.

Madeleine smiled faintly out of the Assassin's curiosity, but soon her gaze saddened: -She entrusted it to me on her deathbed. Since then I always carry it with me.-

-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you- Arno apologized.

The girl shook her head: -It's okay, don't worry. She had been ill for some time, a bad disease that weakened her day after day. When she passed away... it was a hard blow. But my father...- she broke off, letting out a trembling breath.

Arno saw her discomfort: -If you don't want to talk about it, you don’t have to- he reassured her.

Madeleine sighed, trying to shed the weight that she felt in her stomach. She nodded and thanked the Assassin for understanding her.

The bells of Notre Dame interrupted their conversation, pointing out how much time had passed. Arno thanked the girl again for her help and promised that he would discuss with madame Gouze about Domitille's joke.

 

The next morning the owner of the Café Théâtre went to the theater dressing room, where Domitille was.

Charlotte harshly addressed her, berating her for her childish behavior towards a colleague. For this reason she would be suspended from the shows for at least two months and, during this time, confined to working in the laundry.

-Goodbye Opéra national...- Ophélie commented sarcastically.

Chapter 6: Song of the sea

Notes:

TW: mention of alcoholism

That week at the Café Théâtre was particularly intense: the customers seemed more numerous than usual and Madeleine was divided between tailoring and helping Babette in the kitchen. In addition, Arno seemed to have disappeared along with some of his hooded buddies.

Late in the afternoon, while she was resting in the kitchen, Madeleine heard a knock on the back door. Intrigued, she went to open the door and found herself in front of a boy with dark hair and an easygoing attitude.

-Hello- the girl greeted him -Can I help you?-

The boy looked at her a couple of times: -I’ve never seen you before. I’m Léon, do you work here? I have a letter for Arno- he said without giving her time to reply. He handed her the letter and went off down a small street.

For a few seconds Madeleine stood motionless in the doorway, appalled by the boy's behavior. She looked at the envelope in her hands, trying to figure out who the sender was: it was a bit dirty and wrinkled and the only clue as to who had written it was only an elegant signature made up of two letters, D.S.

She closed the door and left the kitchen, headed for Arno's room to deposit the letter in the special box. Suddenly she had an idea: this was an excellent opportunity to rummage through the assassin's letters and discover something useful for Madame Beauchesne. It was not something pleasant, but she had to continue her mission.

 

The young woman barely opened the door to Arno's room, looking wary for any presences. But the room was totally empty.

She gently pulled the door open and headed for the desk. She removed the lid of the box and inserted the letter, noting immediately that there were others all grouped to one side.

She took the first one, being surprised to find that it was quite old, almost ten years old and signed by a certain Élise. She read a few lines and put it back, then took the second.

This too was signed by Élise, and so the third, the fourth, all those that were there. And every time Madeleine read words of love towards Arno.

Finally the last letter was from last summer, and looked like a farewell letter. Not so much the end of a story, but a last farewell before a tragic end.

Having put the last letter back in place, the young woman felt guilty, almost emptied of all vital force. She had rummaged through the private correspondence of her manager, and not just any correspondence! She had witnessed the exchanges between the Assassin and his loved one, who who knows what tragic fate she had met! She hadn’t discovered anything, except that the steward's heart had belonged to another. And that it probably still belonged to this Élise, despite her passing.

It was this last thought that caused Madeleine a vague sense of nausea and discomfort, but she recovered immediately when she heard the door open.

 

The young woman immediately recognized the figure of Arno, yet he looked like another person: if he was normally always clean and tidy, now the Assassin had an unkempt beard of a few days while his clothes showed signs of struggle and cuts. And the spark that usually lit his eyes was completely gone.

Madeleine tried not to reveal her concern: -Good evening, Arno. I'm glad you're back, I just brought you a letter and...-

She fell silent, noticing the man's state of apathy; and only then did she see that he was holding a bottle of wine. Now her worry turned to anxiety.

-What do you have there?-

Arno didn't answer. He went to the desk, as if he had neither seen nor heard her, and placed the bottle on the table.

The Breton tried to get his attention again, calling him and barely touching his arm.

The Assassin seemed to recover from his catatonic state. He looked up at the girl, but his eyes seemed empty.

-I would like to be alone for a while. Thank you, Madeleine- he barely murmured, as if saying a few words cost him a tremendous effort.

The young woman understood that she would not get an answer. She then greeted Arno and left his room. As soon as she closed the door she tried to eavesdrop in a vain attempt to understand what the man wanted to do, but she only heard a sob.

She walked away shaking her head, feeling again the feeling of anxiety pervading her everywhere.

Not again. Not him, too.

 

Madeleine had to lean on the balustrade of the staircase, feeling her head spin, when she suddenly heard voices coming from the Training Room. She approached cautiously and, a few meters from the door, she listened to the ongoing conversation.

-Don't you think we should do something?- said a man.

She heard a sigh, then another man replied: -I don't think so. He wants to be alone, we certainly cannot tie him to a chair and wait for him to pass.-

-It wouldn't be a bad idea- intervened a third man with a slightly younger voice. A loud slap echoed.

-Cut it out Philppe, don't joke about these things!-

-What I mean is that by now he shouldn’t think anymore of that fucking Templar! Tell him too, Laurent- retorted the man called Philippe.

Madeleine thought she had already heard that name, and, taken by curiosity, she barely leaned over to see the mysterious interlocutors inside the room: the first seemed the eldest of the trio, looking about fifty years old, and had a brown jacket and a slightly unkempt beard; the second had to be Philippe, being the youngest, and he wore a green jacket; the last one could have been forty years old and wore an off-white jacket.

At a better look, Madeleine recognized the two more mature men as the ones she had met in the Club Hall.

Meanwhile Laurent contested his colleague: -I know you didn't like her, none of us liked her. And not just because she was a Templar. But she was still Arno's first love, and without her he wouldn't have been able to stop Germain and Robespierre. Show her a little respect.-

Philippe muttered a few words of protest, but did not reply.

-At least I can say that Delacroix was a bitch?-

-No problem, mon ami. Besides, she was.-

Here's another name Madeleine remembered hearing at her mistress's meetings before. She remembered very well Madame Delacroix, with her bulging, poisonous eyes and her sharp tongue always ready to criticize everything. And the fact that the three men had addressed her in the past made her realize that she had followed the same fate as Monsieur Lefebvre.

However, she wondered why they had named her and how she got involved with the woman Arno loved. And the solution, as much as it embarrassed her, was in that room.

Madeleine took a deep breath, then she appeared at the threshold of the room and, timidly, turned to the three men: -Sorry if I interrupt you, but maybe you can help me.-

The Assassins turned in her direction, and the two older ones recognized the Breton and signaled her to enter.

Laurent took the floor: -I remember you. You are the girl who warned us about Lefebvre. How are you?-

-Fine, thanks. My arm also remembers that day- Madeleine joked.

The eldest of the trio approached her, whose name if she remembered well was Gerard: -Sorry if I hurt you. I certainly couldn't know what you were up to, but I hope I hadn’t tighten it too much.-

Madeleine accepted his apology, then Philippe intervened: -Sorry, dear colleagues. But why didn't you introduce me to this charming mademoiselle first?-

-Oh my, how rude. My name is Madeleine Caradec. Who are you?-

She did not have time to finish her question that Philippe was already answering: -Enchanté! I'm Philippe Duval, this grouch on my right is Gerard Moulin and the gentleman on the left is Laurent Lozach. And together we form the invincible "Band of the Baguettes"!-

Those last four words provoked different reactions among those present: after her initial surprise Madeleine barely held back a laugh, Laurent slammed his hand on his face and Gerard threw a furious look at Philippe.

-How many times have I told you not to use that name!? It's ridiculous!- he snapped.

Philippe snorted: -Only because you lack a sense of humor! Arno never complained.-

Upon hearing that name, Madeleine seized the opportunity and exposed her concern: -I spoke to Arno first. I had never seen him so dejected, with that dull look on his face... What happened?-

The three Assassins fell silent instantly, almost reluctant to answer her. Madeleine reassured them: -Arno explained to me what he does. He mentioned to me about Assassins and Templars, but he didn't tell me anything else. I will keep the secret, I swear to you.-

After another moment of silence, Laurent took the floor: -I imagine that you have noticed that this week the four of us have been very busy. Well, we had to stop a Templar, Ségolène Delacroix, from murdering some members of the Directory. It was a pretty tough fight, but Arno finally managed to stop her. Forever.-

The Breton swallowed hard. Another member of Madame Beauchesne's circle had been killed. Could it be just a coincidence?

Gerard continued the speech: -But in the last moments of her life, Delacroix must have said something that upset Arno very much, because when we left he was staring into space and told us it was about a woman named Élise.-

-Who, basically, was his girlfriend- Philippe broke in, -A very long fast and loose that ended in a tragic way for her. And, unfortunately, Arno only knows one way to forget despair.-

A long shiver ran down Madeleine's back: -The wine?- she murmured worriedly.

Gerard nodded: -He has already drowned sorrows in alcohol in the past. You know, he has experienced many tragedies: the murder of his father when he was a child, then that of the man who adopted him. He has suffered other losses and misfortunes over the years, until the death of Élise at the hands of their common enemy. These experiences have marked him deeply and... I'm afraid he considers himself a jinx.-

Again, sad memories of years ago returned to Madeleine's mind. That anguish that had made her suffer so much had returned with arrogance.

She shook her head and turned to the three men: -Isn't there anything we can do?-

It was Laurent who replied, after a long sigh: -We can only wait, plac'h. And hope it stops at one bottle.-

 

*****

Just a sip.

Arno put the bottle down on the desk and took out Élise's old letters. He placed them all on the table and began to read them one by one. He gazed at that elegant handwriting, smiled at the memories of years past, sighed as he read the last words of his beloved.

Just a sip.

His head was beginning to spin, his eyes becoming more clouded. Was it already the intoxication caused by alcohol? Or the tears he struggled to hold back? He looked at the bottle, the candle didn't give enough light. It was already a third gone.

Just a sip.

He saw Delacroix again, her eyes wide as he thrust the blade into her throat. He remembered their “chat” in the limbo that separates the last seconds of life from death.

-How good, already two out of five in such a short time! How did it take you so long with Germain? - she had asked him mockingly.

-She should have left you in Versailles to die drunk. Accursed wretch! But you still think about her, don't you? To your dear Élise who sleeps underground. Whose death will it be next, Arno? How many people will you lose, in your useless life?-

-I am not the first, nor will I be the last. Watch your back, Assassin. You don't know who will stab you...-

 

Just a sip.

The tears now flowed copiously. In the fog of his mind Arno saw the shadows of the one he had lost: his father, wide-eyed on the Versailles floor.

Monsieur De la Serre, who squeezed his neck after the treacherous blow.

And then Mirabeau. Bellec. Himself after the expulsion, a shadow that wandered from tavern to tavern to forget his misfortunes.

And finally Élise, his Élise. That loving look of her that turned into hate for letting Germain escape. More love and finally goodbye, when she had preferred revenge to life.

Just a sip.

Arno shook the bottle, now empty. His head felt heavy, he slumped slowly on the desk. He barely saw the candlelight, then exhaustion and pain got the better of him.

 

*****

Despite the late hour Madeleine couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking about the words of the three Assassins and about Arno's crises.

She had experienced something similar before, years before. And she had hoped she would never relive it again.

She got out of bed and covered herself with a shawl, left the room and walked towards the kitchen. She hoped to find some leftover chamomile tea, since Babette always made large quantities of it. Maybe it would help her fall asleep.

She had just turned into the corridor when she passed Madame Gouze.

The woman saw her and gave her a sad smile: -Hello Madeleine. Can't sleep too?-

The Breton nodded, hugging her shawl to protect herself from the cold: -I'm worried about Arno. Did you manage to see him?- she asked.

Gouze motioned for her to follow her, then she replied: -I was just going to check, and I think I might need a hand.-

The two women continued on until they reached the door of Arno's room. Charlotte motioned for the girl to let her in first, for safety reasons.

When she received the green light Madeleine entered the room, but after a few steps she stopped, petrified by what appeared before her: Arno sound asleep on the desk, a dozen letters scattered everywhere and a completely empty bottle.

She heard Charlotte sigh, then approached her cautiously. She gave her a questioning look, to which she replied with another sigh.

-I hoped it wouldn't happen to him again- Gouze murmured, then she turned to the girl: -Help me move him to the bed.-

The two women each took the Assassin's arm and put it behind their shoulders, then lifted him from the chair and carefully dragged him towards his bed. With a last effort they made him lie down, snorting slightly with exhaustion.

-Maybe it is better if I ask someone to keep an eye on him. I would not want him to be sick during the night- Madame Gouze said.

-I can stay- Madeleine immediately suggested.

The woman was surprised by her request, and she was even more surprised by the worried look of the girl. She preferred not to ask her reasons, so she recommended her to go get someone if things got worse and she left the room.

As she headed to her room, Madame Gouze wondered if there was any reason in particular, or if Madeleine simply felt more than just sympathy towards Arno.

 

Left alone, the Breton arranged the wood in the fireplace, took a chair and a blanket and stood next to Arno. Looking for more information about him, at that moment, was out of the question: the tiredness of the day and the concern for the Assassin's condition far outweighed her mistress's reasons. She had waited nearly four months without being heard; a few more days wouldn't have made a difference.

She took off the man's shoes and managed to arrange him under the covers, then sat down and wrapped herself in the blanket she had taken.

She didn't know how long it had been, but in her half-sleep she heard groans. She rubbed her eyes and saw that Arno was fidgeting in his sleep, muttering incomprehensible words and barely moving his hands.

-Arno?- she murmured worriedly. She got up and approached the man in an attempt to understand what was happening to him.

Suddenly, the Assassin barely opened his eyes. He watched her for a few seconds, while Madeleine remained motionless and breathless.

Finally, Arno murmured a single word: -Élise?-

Madeleine closed her mouth to hold back a sob, trying in vain to hold back her tears. Another time, another damn time.

 

Madeleine ran, anxiety made it difficult for her to breathe but she had to run. She had looked for him everywhere but seemed to have disappeared. She just hoped he hadn't done something extreme.

She threw open the door of the house, the raging storm made the environment even darker. The smell of alcohol pervaded every space.

-Dad?- she called panting. She heard no response.

She walked over to the dining table, where three empty bottles lay. The stench of alcohol was even stronger.

The girl went up the stairs, hoping that her father was at least in the bedroom. And so it was, fortunately, but Yannick Caradec was in a pitiful state, half lying on his bed and with yet another bottle of wine in his hand.

Madeleine wiped away her tears, took the bottle from her father's helpless hand and tried to make the old fisherman lie down completely.

She adjusted his pillow and put a blanket over him; exhausted from the effort, she slumped beside him, wetting the blanket with her tears.

After a few minutes she heard groans: she jerked her head up and saw that her father had woken up.

-Brona?- Yannick mumbled.

Madeleine shook her head: -Mom is dead, Dad. It's been two months now...-

Two months in which desperation had taken hold of the Breton, and despite the love for his daughter, the pain of losing his wife was too strong. A pain that seemed to no longer exist only thanks to alcohol.

Yannick sighed, then said to his daughter: -Sing me her song.-

Madeleine obeyed, and despite her tears she sang her mother’s song, the only one she had ever taught her. She sang softly, over and over, until her father fell soundly asleep.

One morning a month later, after his umpteenth hangover, Madeleine just shrugged her father's shoulder to wake him up.

But Yannick never woke up again. And she was left alone.

 

The young woman tried to calm down, despite the pain she felt: now she had to help Arno.

With a lump in her throat, she decided to give him rope: -Yes Arno, I'm Élise. I'm not going away.-

The girl suffered from lying to him in such a painful moment, but it was the only way to calm him down. Indeed, the Assassin seemed to calm down, but an unexpected fact happened: while Madeleine had bent down to whisper her answer, Arno had put his arm around her and, turning on his back, had dragged the girl with him on the bed.

And now the Breton was lying next to him, trapped in the arms of the Café steward.

“Oh my!” was Madeleine's only thought. She tried to call the Assassin in a low voice, trying at the same time to take his arm off her; but Arno held her even tighter, moaning in his sleep.

Madeleine froze instantly: if there was one thing she had learned from the sad story of her father, it was never to upset someone drunk.

She sighed, observing the Assassin's suffering expression in the dim light. She instinctively stroked his hair gently and began to sing her mother's song, the song of the sea:

 

Idir ann is idir as
Idir thuaidh is idir theas
Idir thiar is idir thoir
Idir am is idir áit

Casann sí dhom
Amhrán na farraige
Suaimhneach nó ciúin
Ag cuardú go damanta
Mo ghrá

 

Idir gaoth is idir tonn
Idir tuilleadh is idir gann

Casann sí dhom
Amhrán na Farraige
Suaimhneach nó ciúin
Ag cuardú go damanta

Idir cósta, idir cléibh
Idir mé is idir mé féin
Tá mé i dtiúin

 

She kept on singing, starting over each time, until she saw Arno's face relax, now asleep.

She tried again to get out of bed, but the Assassin kept an iron grip even in his sleep.

“Maybe in a couple of hours he'll be completely asleep, and I'll be able to go” she thought. She settled better under the covers and closed her eyes, certain that she would remain in a state of semi-sleep. But her weariness was stronger, and Madeleine fell into a deep sleep.

 

The next morning, at the first light of dawn, Arno woke up with a terrible headache. He barely opened his eyelids, but immediately noticed something strange: he was not leaning against his pillow, but on something harder, like a bone. He opened his eyes wide and found he was standing next to a female chest.

He felt long shivers run down his spine, despite the warmth of the blankets; he saw that he was embracing the mysterious figure, who in turn had placed their hand on his forearm. He just raised his head and saw that he was with Madeleine.

Keeping his nerve, despite the tension, Arno broke free from the embrace and moved away from the girl, moving to the opposite side of the bed. He sat up, still incredulous at this absurd situation. What the heck had happened?

At that moment Madeleine woke up too: she rubbed her eyes, yawned and opened her lids. And she saw Arno looking at her in disbelief.

Taken by surprise, the girl sat up, returning the Assassin's amazed gaze.

-I can explain- she exclaimed embarrassed.

Arno looked around the room, looking for any clues as to what might have happened, and saw on the desk the bottle he had emptied the previous evening. He put a hand on his face, full of shame: -I got drunk- he admitted bitterly.

Before Madeleine could say anything to him Arno turned to look at her with apprehension, then he asked her what troubled him most: -Tell me I didn't hurt you.-

The girl shook her head: -No, you didn't do anything to me, Arno. You just called me by someone else's name. Élise.-

The Assassin was stunned at that answer. Again he put a hand to his face in a vain attempt to hide his guilt.

Madeleine tried to reassure him: -It's all right, Arno. Nothing serious happened.-

This time it was the man who shook his head: -You don't understand. I could have hurt you, or worse. And exchanging you with her...- he broke off.

-It's not the first time this has happened to me- confessed Madeleine.

Arno looked at the girl in amazement, who meanwhile had assumed a sad expression.

-What do you mean?-

The girl sighed deeply, then she explained: -I had mentioned the death of my mother, and the fact that my father was struck by that. He too started drinking to forget the pain. Sometimes, when the light was dimmer, in his drunkenness he mistook me for my mother. I always hoped that one day he would stop, that the pain would subside. But one morning... he never woke up again.-

A dark silence, laden with pain, fell into the room.

Arno found himself bewildered, struck by the similarity with the tragic story of Madeleine's father. And terribly guilty for reminding her of that.

Despite the lump in his throat, the Assassin turned to the girl: -Madeleine, I'm sorry I made you suffer. I... I can understand if you don't want to work here anymore.-

The Breton widened her eyes, surprised: -What?! No!-

This time it was Arno who was left speechless. He tried to reply: -If you don't feel safe... you have every right to go somewhere more...-

-But I don't want to go away!- she interrupted him.

-I don't want to leave the Café! I don't want to leave Madame Gouze, Célestine and the others! I don't want to... leave you...- she confessed in a trembling voice.

Madeleine had spoken instinctively, gripped by anxiety and fear of having to leave that welcoming place, full of people she had become attached to despite the real reason for her presence at the Café. And where was a man with a golden, sad heart.

-I care about you, Arno. I don't want to...- Madeleine was saying, but suddenly Arno held her close to him, encircling her in his arms. Strong arms, used to climbing buildings and wielding the most disparate weapons. Yet the Breton only felt a sense of security, of protection. Warmth.

Slowly, Madeleine returned the embrace with the Assassin. She rested her head on his shoulder and began to softly sing her mother's lullaby.

Arno closed his eyes, relaxing at the sound of those unknown but sweet words. And he swore to himself that he would never get drunk again, for his own sake and for the people he cared about.

Notes:

The song that Madeleine sings is "Amhrán Na Farraige" from the film "Song of the Sea", an animated film by the Irish studio Cartoon Saloon that I highly recommend.
I leave you the link of the song with lyrics and translation https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5FkiHtTO-mk

Chapter 7: Towards Versailles

Paris, late April 1795.

Indeed, Floréal 1795. Madeleine still had to get used to the new republican calendar. And the feelings she had for Arno.

After that kind of confession a few days earlier, the two had developed their friendship: the girl told him anecdotes from her childhood and sang him some Breton songs, while the Assassin had granted her the use of his personal library and had explained a few more things about the Brotherhood and the Pieces of Eden.

At the same time the young woman had befriended Laurent, who she discovered was a native of Nantes and therefore a Breton like her. She liked to chat in their own language, and by now he had got into the habit of friendly calling her plac'h, girl.

Actually the girl felt confused by that situation: she feared that her friendship with the Assassins could compromise the task that her mistress had entrusted to her. And, at the same time, the more she discovered the vile plans of the Templars during the Revolution, the more she didn’t know what to think of Madame Beauchesne.

 

One morning Madeleine was at the market for Babette's usual errands. She was looking at some fabrics with curiosity when she sensed a presence at her side.

-How long- a female voice said with a hint of sarcasm.

The girl turned to see who the unknown woman was and she was amazed to see Thérèse Beauchesne in the flesh.

-Madame! I-I didn't know you were here in Paris!-

-Of course, otherwise you would have done everything to get in touch with me. Isn't that true?- the woman asked sourly.

Without even waiting for the girl's answer, Thérèse snatched Babette's shopping list from her hands and then called her trusty servant Geneviève, whom Madeleine only noticed in that instant: -Geneviève, take care of buying these things and wait for me here in the square. Madeleine and I have a little chat to do...- she said, without hiding a hint of annoyance. The old servant nodded, then Madame Beauchesne led the Breton to a nearby building, where they went up a flight of stairs and entered a well-appointed room.

Thérèse sat down in a small armchair, while Madeleine remained standing where she was.

The woman looked at her for a few seconds, tapping her fingers on the chair’s arm. That silence seemed to last for hours instead of minutes, and the poor Breton was sweating with anxiety.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Thérèse decided to speak: -I'm quite disappointed, Madeleine. Almost four months here in Paris and I’ve never received anything, neither information about Dorian nor about his activities. How do you explain it?- she asked in an annoyed tone.

Madeleine protested: -How could I write to you? You didn't leave me an address, or anything else...-

Thérèse interrupted her: -Nonsense! If you cared so much about me and this very important mission, you would have tried to contact me. But maybe that's not the case, dear?- she asked, feigning offense.

-No, no! I owe you a lot, madame! I didn't mean to offend you.-

Beauchesne smiled triumphantly: -I know, my little Madeleine. And I forgive you for your earlier impudence.-

She got up from the chair and walked over to the girl. She stroked her arm gently, up to her cheek: -After all, you are one of the few still alive. Mr. Dorian must trust you very much, if you are still here...-

Madeleine swallowed hard, feeling cold shivers of fear down her spine: -What do you mean?-

Thérèse went to a table to take a fan, which she began to wave fondly under her chin: -Oh, how many sacrifices must be made for justice! Some friends of mine had had the same idea as me, that is to send someone to steal the secrets of Dorian and his allies. But alas, almost all of them were killed by those murderers! Do you understand why I was so worried about you?- she explained, blinking to emphasize the concept.

The Breton turned pale. Arno had explained to her what he does, without neglecting the cruelest aspects. She expected that he might have many enemies, but how many exactly? Was it possible that the Templars wanted him dead at any cost? Was there another reason besides their eternal war?

But one question in particular worried the young woman: was Thérèse Beauchesne a Templar?

Clutching her pendant to give herself courage, she turned to her mistress: -I learned that Monsieur Lefebvre and Madame Delacroix are dead, madame. And that they were part of a group called Templars. Do you know anything about it?-

Madame Beauchesne made a surprised expression, bringing the fan up to her mouth: -Templars?! I have no idea. I thought they hadn't existed for at least three centuries, or four. It's the first time I've heard of it- she replied excitedly.

Madeleine was about to reply, but Thérèse spoke first: -Your time is running out, my dear. Just know you will soon have a very important task for our mission: I’ve heard from certain sources that Dorian will have to go to a certain place for a certain event, and you will have to go with him. Did I make myself clear?-

The young woman wanted to ask for more information, but the frowning look of the woman made her give up. She barely bowed her head, feeling almost crushed by that grim look: -Yes, Madame- she murmured.

Satisfied, Thérèse dismissed her and signaled her to go. She stood at the window and watched the young woman take the shopping that Geneviève had made for her and go in the direction of the Café.

She felt a creak behind her, and soon two hands gently gripped her hips.

-I knew you had a certain influence on people, but not up to this point- exclaimed Gauthier Marchand, coming out of his hiding place.

Thérèse giggled, enjoying the little kisses that her lover was tracing along her neck: -Modestly, mon amour. But I have to admit that Madeleine has been very good so far. I understand that Dorian has revealed something to her about Assassins and Templars. He must trust her a lot...-

-And this "certain place for a certain event" to which they will have to go? Do you know something about it?-

Beauchesne turned and kissed Gauthier on the lips: -But of course. It's a nice little place we'll be going soon too, my dear. After all, the Marquis is not the only one who knows how to get certain things...-

 

If there was a place that Arno hated with all his heart it was the Court of Miracles. And if there was something he hated most about that place, it was dealing with De Sade.

He had proved useful in the past, true, and he had also helped him more than once, but every time he thought of him he got hives.

He muttered to himself, then Arno walked through the muddy and smelly streets of the Court of Miracles: at every corner there were beggars dressed in rags, drunks singing tavern songs, but above all an unspecified number of prostitutes. He looked away, blushing slightly with embarrassment, when some "young ladies" called him in a winking way while showing off their graces in a more or less seductive way.

Finally he arrived at the "palace" of the marquis and noticed that the number of prostitutes and libertines was even greater than in the streets.

He took a deep breath and, trying not to pay attention to certain "noises" coming from beyond a door, marched with a firm step towards a small sofa where a man in his fifties was half lying, dressed in a brightly colored shirt and a simple pair of culottes.

-Arno! Nice to see you again! Can I offer you something?- exclaimed De Sade slyly.

The Assassin barely grunted a greeting, took an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and threw it on a side table: -I have no time to waste, De Sade. Now respect the covenant and give me what you promised me.-

The marquis smiled amused. He just got up from the sofa and reached out to grab a goblet of wine. He took a long sip, without ever losing sight of the Assassin, finally slipped an envelope from his shirt sleeve and handed it to Arno: -A promise is a promise, my friend.-

The Assassin grabbed it roughly and tucked it safely into his jacket. He greeted the Marquis again, but was immediately interrupted by the latter: -But how? Are you leaving already? Don't you want to hold back a bit?- he asked with mock surprise.

Arno replied reluctantly: -Unlike you, I have a lot to do. And never again dare to involve Léon in your machinations!-

De Sade chuckled: -That kid! So young and so smart! And with an excellent power of observation: after leaving my letter at the Café, he came to me and told me about a new worker. A pretty young woman, from what he told me...-

At those words a long shiver ran down Arno's back. He approached the Marquis, gloom in the face: -If you try to involve her in your games...-

The libertine widened his eyes, surprised, and the smile on his face widened even more: -Ah! But how protective we are! You have to care a lot about this young lady, hm?- he asked curiously.

Making an enormous effort not to punch him in the face, Arno addressed him in a threatening tone: -She must stay out of this matter and future ones. Is that clear?- and he left without saying anything else.

De Sade watched him as he went out, taking the glass of wine again: -Oh, but you will be the one to get her into the game...-

 

As he returned to the Café Théâtre, the Assassin let out an exasperated breath. De Sade never render aid without having something in return, and this time was no different from the previous ones. Unfortunately for him the Marquis was the only one who had been able to help him with the mission he had to carry out: infiltrate a party at the palace of Versailles, find some important documents and take them to the Council. An easy thing, apparently.

After entering his room, Arno took De Sade's envelope and opened it to get its contents: an invitation card for a certain Pascal de Saint-Pierre and his lady. And his lady...

At that precise moment, Arno would have been the perfect example to describe the term "petrified" in a new edition of the Encyclopédie by Diderot and d'Alembert: he was so shocked by that discovery that he could not react, as he looked at that note with such intense disbelief that he seemed not to even breathe.

All of a sudden he reanimated himself, letting off not very polite epithets towards De Sade.

"That great son of..." he was thinking, when he saw the door open and Madeleine peeking out from behind.

-Is everything all right?- she asked hesitantly.

Arno signaled her to enter and in the meantime was shaking his head: -Maybe. It's for a rather urgent mission, but apparently I'm in trouble.-

Noticing the girl's confused gaze, the Assassin explained the problem: -Tomorrow evening I will have to go to a masquerade ball in Versailles to retrieve some documents. Unfortunately, I did not know that the invitation was valid for two people, and I am alone.-

At that moment Madeleine remembered Madame Beauchesne's words: she had to go to that event with Arno.

Trying to sound casual, the girl asked: -Are there any female Assassins who can come with you?-

The man sighed: -Unfortunately there are not many female Assassins in the French Brotherhood, and those few are already engaged in other missions. I really don't know what to do-

Madeleine couldn’t believe in that stroke of luck, but she still feared the man's denial.

-I can come with you- she suggested.

Arno was surprised. For a few seconds he was silent, then he turned to the girl with a worried look: -I appreciate your willingness, Madeleine. But it could be dangerous, I don't want anything to happen to you- he admitted.

The Breton bit the inside of her cheeks, suddenly nervous: -Are you worried that there may be Templars?-

The man nodded: -Not only them, but also that some men can be annoying with you. Believe me, they are of the worst kind.-

-I know- replied the girl, surprising the Assassin again.

-My old mistress often took me to parties to which she was invited, as a lady-in-waiting, and I was able to observe and study the behavior of certain people. I know how to avoid them, you don't have to worry about me.-

Again Arno was silent, thoughtful. He mulled over the young woman's words as he held his chin, evaluating the options available.

Finally, after a slight sigh, the Assassin gave his response: -Prepare a light luggage: tomorrow morning we will leave for Versailles.-

 

The following day, after a carriage ride that lasted hours, Arno and Madeleine finally reached the town of Versailles. The Breton observed with wonder the small village, which had a calmer atmosphere than the chaos of the city of Paris: the peasants with their carts loaded with vegetables, the women exchanging gossip, the children playing in the street. For a moment she thought she had returned to the Breton village of her childhood, even if the environment was a little different.

At one point, looking from the window of the carriage, Madeleine saw that they were approaching a stately villa. And after a few meters they stopped right in front of the entrance.

-Destination reached!- Laurent exclaimed, who had wanted to go with them and who had driven the vehicle since Paris.

Arno went out first and helped the young woman to get out of the carriage. Madeleine gasped in front of that magnificence: beyond a large entrance courtyard, in front of her she saw a splendid villa with two side wings, with the facade decorated with small stone columns that led the gaze up to the tympanum at the top, carved in bas-relief.

-Welcome to Ville De la Serre!- exclaimed the man smiling, making a wide arm gesture to emphasize his words.

-De la Serre? But wasn't it the gentleman who adopted you?- asked the young woman, remembering what the Assassin had told her.

After taking the luggage, Arno joined the girl and guided her to the building: -Yes, this is where I grew up after my father's death, and where I spent the happiest years of my youth- he explained with a tip of nostalgia.

The two, followed by Laurent, finally entered the building: once again Madeleine admired with amazement the richness of the rooms and corridors, the refinement of the furniture and other decorations.

She was still observing every corner of the villa when the girl heard Arno calling someone: after a couple of minutes, a rather young man and a blonde woman arrived from the upper floor and greeted the Assassin with affection.

After having exchanged some chatter Arno made the introductions: -Laurent, Madeleine, these are Hélène and Jacques: they live here and take care of the villa. Hélène, Jacques: they are Laurent, a colleague of mine, and Madeleine, a... dear friend of mine.

Madeleine noticed the slight pause with surprise, but she paid no attention to it. Together with Laurent she greeted the two, who welcomed them with courtesy and then led them to a sitting room.

While Hélène was offering the guests some cups of tea, Arno explained to the couple the reason for his visit: -I apologize if I did not warn you before, but unfortunately this mission was entrusted to me with very little notice.-

Jacques replied: -Don't worry, Arno. Hélène and I will be happy to help you and your friends.-

The Assassin thanked him for his willingness, then explained what they had to do: -Fortunately, nothing dangerous: we have to go to the party tonight at the palace to get some rather important documents. And as you can see, we need suitable clothes for the occasion.-

At those words Hélène smiled with joy: -Leave it to us, Arno! You will not regret!-

-Good- said Arno getting up from the sofa where he was sitting, -I and Laurent will go with Jacques. Hélène, I entrust you with Madeleine. See you all on the ground floor when we are ready.-

 

At this point two groups were formed: the Assassins, led by Jacques, went to the rooms that once belonged to monsieur De la Serre; Hélène, after taking Madeleine by the arm, led her to the other side of the villa.

On the way the Breton noticed a painting placed above the door that they were about to go through: it portrayed a young woman with long wavy red hair, with a tuft to her right. She wore an elegant dark dress with short sleeves and decorated with white lace, while in her hand she held a half-open fan. Madeleine was struck by the elegance and richness of the dress and jewels, but the thing that struck her most was the look of the girl portrayed: that pretty face, almost like a doll, barely held back a grimace, as if she were bored or annoyed by the immobility to which she was forced.

-Who is that woman?- asked the Breton.

Hélène looked where she was pointing and her eyes filled with melancholy: -That was Élise, the only daughter of Mr. De la Serre.-

Madeleine immediately regretted her question: -Forgive me, I shouldn't have asked.-

The blonde gave her a questioning look: -Did Arno tell you about her?-

Madeleine nodded: -He told me how Mr. De la Serre took him with him after the murder of his father. He also told me who he was and what he did, but he never told me exactly his relationship with Élise, I just know that they loved each other.-

While they were chatting, the Breton had not noticed that Hélène had taken her into a large room with light walls, with a large wardrobe along one wall and a dressing table on the opposite side; the large window overlooked the park of the villa, from which one could see what must have been an orchard.

Hélène invited the Breton to sit with her on a small sofa in the middle of the room, then began to tell: -As I told you earlier, Élise was the only daughter of the De la Serre family. She was educated since a child to become the future Templar Grand Master: fencing, riding, firearms, strategies and so on. For this she had always been different from other noble girls, preferring boy's games rather than dolls. She too had a very strong character, when she wanted she was quite stubborn, but she also had a kind soul.-

-She saved me, years ago, from a terrible situation. And it was always she who took me to Paris, where I met my dear Jacques. And when my mother-in-law wrote to us about her death... it was very hard.-

Madeleine put a hand on her shoulder to console her: -I'm sorry.-

Hélène smiled at her, then went on: -She and Arno met as children, when monsieur Dorian was murdered. From what the young lady told me, they tied up immediately, having fun making jokes with the attendants. Indeed, it was often Arno who helped her out of trouble. It was natural that, spending so much time together, love was born from a simple friendship. But I guess you already know what happened after the death of Mr. De la Serre.-

The Breton nodded: -Arno, Laurent and the other Assassins told me what happened, until Élise's death.-

Hélène sighed and told the last part: -After her death we received a last letter from her, in which she said that Arno would come to take some of her personal items, including her journal. However, there was another man, a certain Ruddock, who actually worked for De la Serre’s enemies. He captured me and threatened to take me to England, to take the reward that the Carrolls had placed on my head. But luckily Arno and Mr. Weatherall, Élise's old master of arms, killed him. And since then Arno has come to visit us every now and then, and we are more than happy to host him. Also because it was he who restored the villa after the devastation of the Revolution.-

Madeleine had listened carefully to the woman's entire speech and had noticed a name in particular: -Carrolls? Who are they?-

-A Templar family from London, arrogant people averse to any change that could change their "order". They were enemies of the De la Serre and many years ago they tried to have Madame De la Serre killed, and ten years later also the young lady. And they are the same ones who sent Ruddock to kill me and Mr. Weatherall.-

The Breton felt long shivers down her spine: during their exile from the revolutionary France, Madame Beauchesne had taken her to London, hosted for some time by some friends of hers. And she remembered very well Peter Carroll's arrogant smile, the scarred hand of his wife, and the portraits of their daughter, treacherously killed a year before the Revolution.

 

Hélène clapped her hands, as if to metaphorically put an end to those speeches: -But enough now with these sad things. Tell me a little about yourself and how you met Arno.-

And so Madeleine told her about how she had met the Assassin, about her work at the Café and how she had learned about the Brotherhood. She obviously said nothing about Madame Beauchesne and her ambiguity in her dealings with the Templars.

Hélène listened attentively: -It seems that you and Arno get along quite well- she said suddenly.

The Breton fell silent and, at the same time, she felt her cheeks blush: -Well... I’m fond of Arno, he is always kind to me...- she replied as if to justify herself.

The blonde laughed: -What I mean is that he too seems to care a lot about you.-

Madeleine jumped, surprised: -We're just friends, that's all...-

Hélène smiled: -Maybe it's as you say. But believe me, the way he looks at you means more than just friendship to him.-

Feeling blushing even more, the Breton decided to change the subject: -Ehm... oh, how time flies! And we still have to look for the dress for tonight!-

Holding back an amused laugh, Hélène nodded to her and walked to the wardrobe, opened it and showed the girl five elegant dresses inside it: -The young lady hated formal receptions, these are her only party dresses. You can take a look and choose the one you prefer.-

-Can I really?- she asked hesitantly.

The blonde nodded: -They haven’t been worn for years now. I prefer someone to use them, rather than condemning them to moths- she replied reassuring her.

Madeleine approached, almost reverently, and she looked at those wonderful dresses: she thought of her childhood games, when she pretended to dance in majestic halls twirling in her imaginary ball gown. She delicately caressed the silks, the lace, the taffeta of the dresses, observing the embroideries and decorations with an expert eye.

She recognized the dress in the portrait, but she discarded it because it seemed inconvenient to wear the dress featured in the only remaining image of Élise. She then took a dark blue dress with long sleeves and a neckline that left the shoulders bare, but she also discarded it because it caused an unpleasant sensation in her stomach.

As if she had read her mind, Hélène said: -That is the dress she wore the night her father was murdered.-

Madeleine was surprised by her own instincts, so she switched to the third dress: a voluminous green dress, full of ribbons and lace and other frills. Too exaggerated, the Breton rejected it due to the risk of being too ancien régime.

Only two dresses remained, one amber yellow and the other pale pink. Both were gorgeous, with numerous embroideries and ribbons giving them an elegant but not pompous air.

-Oh heaven! I don't know which one to choose!- she exclaimed.

Hélène reassured her: -Don’t worry, we have enough time to try both of them. Trust me, you will eventually know which dress you will wear to the ball.-

Madeleine, however, still seemed hesitant: -I really appreciate your help, Hélène. It's just that these dresses are a little out of fashion. If Arno and I have to go unnoticed we will have to make some changes.-

And so, armed with needles, thread and scissors, the two young women set to work to fix the chosen dress.

 

At least two hours had passed, but the two women had not yet left the room.

On the ground floor Jacques was helping Arno to hide a pair of daggers inside his jacket, while Laurent walked impatiently near the front door.

-I understand that women's clothes are more demanding than men's, but they are taking too long! We risk arriving late!- grumbled the man.

Arno, who was arranging the hidden blade, tried to reassure him: -C’mon, Laurent. We are still on schedule. I bet that within half an hour we will already be on our way to the palace.-

The Breton was about to reply, but footsteps caught their attention; the two Assassins and Jacques turned their gaze towards the staircase leading to the upper floor, from which Hélène and Madeleine were coming down.

Hélène had a proud smile on her face and, with a wave of her hand, she invited the three men to look at the Breton: she was wearing a splendid pale pink dress with a square neckline, decorated with a crimped hem. At the center of the dress, starting from the neckline, another layer of floral fabric started that went down to the edge of the skirt, also decorated with crimped rims. Small bows of a darker shade were placed between the two fabrics, while a ribbon of the same color encircled the girl's waist. The sleeves reached up to her elbow and featured the same fabric hem, just a little wider than the one at the bottom of the dress.

The young woman had her hair gathered in an elegant hairstyle, a kind of chignon with a couple of braids around her and some locks left free on the sides of her face. She had light make-up, just a little powder and her lips dyed the same pink as the dress. A pair of gold earrings decorated with zircons was the only jewel she was wearing.

The three men had remained silent to observe with wonder Madeleine, who was beginning to get nervous for all that silence: -How do I look?- she fearfully asked.

Jacques was the first to reply: -You look great! You and Hélène did a great job modifying that dress!-

Laurent also congratulated her: -You are a blast! I bet you’ll make lot of heads turn at the ball. What do you say, Arno?-

The Assassin had been staring at the girl with his mouth open, struck by her elegance. For the first time he saw her in a different light: no longer just the seamstress of the Café, no longer just one of his friends, but a splendid girl of rare beauty.

-You are gorgeous...- he said looking straight into her eyes, as if there were just the two of them. Madeleine smiled a little embarrassed, while Laurent exchanged complicit glances with Jacques.

A slight cough interrupted that atmosphere. Hélène approached the Breton and handed her a white mask decorated with a gold border: -Remember to wear this one tonight. Too bad though, your beautiful eyes will not be seen- she told her.

Madeleine took the mask, but suddenly she noticed that she still had her mother's pendant around the neck. She took it in her hand and squeezed it, suddenly upset: -I can't wear it to the ball. It's too characteristic.-

-I’m afraid you will have to leave it here, plac'h- Laurent intervened with regret.

Reluctantly, Madeleine took off her necklace and entrusted it to Hélène. She immediately felt the feeling of emptiness around her neck, and almost had the impression of not having a part of her body anymore.

She tried to calm her nervousness, thanking the blonde once again for her help. She then went to Arno, who was watching her with a worried look. Madeleine smiled at him to reassure him, then she claimed she was ready to go.

The Assassins and the Breton said goodbye to Hélène and Jacques and left the villa to go to the carriage; Laurent took the driver's seat while Arno helped Madeleine getting inside.

Once settled, Arno gave the starting signal and the oldest Assassin snapped the bridle. Finally the carriage set in motion, with the sun beginning to set.

Destination: Palace of Versailles.

Notes:

For Madeleine's dress I took inspiration from this one: https://www.pinterest.it/pin/523262050432070063/

Chapter 8: Dances and revelations

The last rays of sunlight illuminated the road that led to the palace of Versailles. Inside the carriage Arno and Madeleine were silent, each lost in their own thoughts. In particular, the girl began to feel nervous about the upcoming party: Madame Beauchesne had often taken her to parties, teaching her various behaviors and tricks that noblewomen used to achieve their goals. But she had never been good at putting them into practice because of her shy nature. She had observed how other companion ladies willingly lent themselves to that "game", and she still remembered their superb giggles at her.

But this time her mistress would not be there to guide her through the snares of the nobility, or what remained of it; Madame Beauchesne would not have told her how to deal with the new republican bourgeoisie, she would not have ordered her to overhear this or that conversation or to converse with a certain lady. She would be alone, and she didn't like that thing at all.

Lost in those thoughts, Madeleine hadn't realized Arno was calling her. She raised her head, surprised, and saw the Assassin's worried look.

-Are you ok?-

The Breton sighed and admitted her nervousness: -I just want everything to go well, Arno. I don't want to make a mess...-

-You won't make any mess. I'm sure of it- Arno reassured her.

The girl didn't answer. She wanted to believe the Assassin's words, but she couldn't get rid of an unpleasant feeling, as if something was going to go wrong for sure.

-How can you be sure?-

She felt Arno's hand on hers. She turned her gaze to the man, who was smiling at her with understanding.

-You are a cautious girl, Madeleine. You told me you know how these events work and I trust you- he reassured her.

-What if something goes wrong anyway?- she asked upset.

The Assassin looked at her worriedly. He saw the slight tremor in her hands and her strained gaze. Asking her permission first, he placed a hand behind her back, between her shoulder blades, and began to make slow circular motions. He continued until he saw the girl relax and stop shaking.

The man smiled to encourage her: -I know you can do it. Always stay in the main rooms, where there are more people. I'll look for the documents and get back to you as quickly as possible, I promise.-

Those gestures and words seemed to have an effect on Madeleine. She finally managed to calm down and a faint smile appeared on her lips.

The young woman would have liked to thank him for his kindness, but she did not have time: suddenly the carriage slowed down and stopped in front of a huge gate. A few seconds later Laurent opened the door and made a sweeping gesture with his arm: -Destination reached! Here is the palace of Versailles!- exclaimed.

 

Put on the mask and helped by Arno, Madeleine got out of the carriage and was dazzled by the spectacle in front of her: dozens, perhaps hundreds of people dressed in an elegant way and adorned with multicolored masks chatted in various points of the wide driveway; some guests showed their invitation to the guard and entered the palace already, where she could hear music coming from.

-Incredible!- the girl exclaimed in amazement.

-You said it, you should’ve seen how it was last year. Odd that they decided to restore it and not tear it down- Laurent said.

Arno did not intervene. He still remembered the months after his expulsion from the Brotherhood and his wandering the streets of the town, and how the palace had become a refuge for other wretches or even bandits. Seeing that building returned to its former glory somehow reminded him of himself, having returned to life after a period of despair.

He also put on the mask and turned to Lozach: -I know you will be very bored out here, but still be ready for any eventuality.-

The Breton nodded: -Don’t worry, don't think about me. Try to have fun and bring me some canapés- he replied amused, then made a last farewell to the couple and went to arrange the carriage in the appropriate area.

Arno and Madeleine crossed the courtyard of honor, made their way to the guard and showed their invitations. Fortunately, the officer didn’t notice that they were forged, so he let them into the palace.

 

The Breton literally gasped. Never in her life had she seen a more luxurious palace: the most sumptuous decorations, a reminder of the monarchical past, had been removed, and yet the building had retained its majestic and elegant aura. Every room, even the smallest, had been rearranged after the revolutionary raids, and where until a few months earlier there had been rubble and vandalism now there were illustrious guests chatting.

Arno suggested taking a sort of tour of the palace, which Madeleine accepted more than willingly. It seemed that the two, for a moment, had forgotten the real reason for their presence at the party: together they explored all the rooms open to the public, observed the furniture and decorations, made space between groups of gossiping guests. Both hadn't felt so carefree in years.

After wandering around for a while, Arno and Madeleine began to feel the pangs of hunger. They went to the room in charge of the buffet and the Breton thanked heaven there was a lot of noise, otherwise anyone would have heard the rumbling of her stomach.

Vague memory of the rich royal banquets, a long table still did justice to the dishes offered for the numerous guests: canapes with meat, fish or vegetables, chicken and legume jellies, stewed mutton, duck and goose liver pâté, savory puffs and more. And alongside, of course, the unfailing offer of desserts: mini pastries, tartlets with cream or chocolate, biscuits filled with cream, sumptuous cakes decorated with icing and sugar stars in the colors of the French flag.

And so Madeleine's stomach suddenly closed just as it opened: how many times in the past had she contented herself with having lunch with a loaf of bread and some fish, or in better times with a piece of cheese. How many poor people had gone hungry during the monarchy, and who knows how many still died on the street in the indifference of all.

-Are you all right?- Arno asked, noticing her hesitation.

The Breton looked away from all those delicacies: -Sorry. It's just that seeing all this abundance while there are people who have nothing to eat... it makes me sick.-

The Assassin understood the girl's fear and tried to cheer her up: -You are afraid the leftovers are thrown away, right? I also had this concern, but I first asked a waiter and he replied that the leftover food will be donated by the Directory to the poor. A gesture to differentiate themselves from the wastes of the nobility, he said.-

Madeleine felt heartened by those words and accepted her companion's invitation to get something to eat. Luckily they hadn't had dinner before.

 

-It was years since I ate so well!- Madeleine sighed satisfied.

-Can I tempt you with one last praline?- Arno joked, handing her a chocolate ball decorated with a spiral.

The Breton stared at the candy, then at the Assassin and his amused smile: -You know you're evil, don’t you?- she retorted, but that ball was attracting her like a siren's song. She surrendered to the call of the sugar and reached out to take it from the man, who handed her the cup with the candy.

Madeleine took a bite, discovering a soft orange filling that blended divinely with the bitterness of the dark chocolate. She let out a satisfied moan, then she turned to the Assassin: -You absolutely must try one, it’s delicious!-

But she would never have imagined what would happen: catching her by surprise, Arno bent down and ate the rest of the praline directly from her hand. The girl did not have time to react, so much so that she remained with her hand motionless in midair still with the sensation of the Assassin's lips on her fingers. And now, maybe worse, she felt her cheeks blush from embarrassment due to the gossip whispers she heard around her.

Arno also seemed embarrassed, realizing that perhaps he had exaggerated. He looked away from the girl and swallowed hard: -Sorry, I shouldn't have. I don't know what got into me...-

The young woman smiled slightly: -It's all right. Let's go somewhere else- she replied. She took the Assassin by the arm and they walked away from the buffet room.

The silence seemed to have taken possession of the two, each lost in who knows what thoughts. Madeleine was still thinking about what had happened: about that gesture so sudden and at the same time so intimate; at the gaze that he had given her, despite the mask; the feel of his lips on her fingers. She imagined what would have happened if they had been alone, perhaps in the quiet of his room at the Café: the two of them on the sofa, in front of the fireplace, exchanging chocolates and tender glances. And then Arno brushing her fingers again, then her hand, approaches her and...

Madeleine shook her head, stunned by those thoughts. What the heck was going through her head? She blamed the reception and the carefree atmosphere. It had to be that, certainly not what she felt for Arno.

Sighing slightly so as not to be heard, she glanced sideways at the Assassin, who instead observed the other guests with caution: she liked Arno, it was useless to deny it. His kindness, his generosity in helping her, even his frailty got into her heart. What was supposed to be a spy mission had turned into a beautiful friendship, and perhaps something else as well. But the young girl dared not think whether the man reciprocated those feelings or not.

She was suddenly distracted by the other guests, who were moving at a great pace in one direction.

-What happens?- she asked.

The smile returned to Arno's face: -I think the dance has started, let's go and see.-

Trying not to be overwhelmed by the crowd, the two finally arrived in the famous Hall of Mirrors: thanks to the play of reflections the room seemed lit by thousands of candles, giving the environment a brightness as if it were day; a string quartet was already in action, playing both classical pieces and the latest in classical music; in the center of the hall dozens and dozens of couples danced the most popular dances such as contradanza, polka and of course the most popular, the waltz.

Madeleine watched in amazement that spectacle of sounds and colors, with the ladies' dresses twirling to the rhythm of the music. She was still admiring the pirouettes of the dancers when she heard Arno calling her and, much to her surprise, she saw him holding out a hand.

-I don't think I'll have any other occasion to ask you- said the Assassin -May I have the honor of this dance?-

The girl felt her heart beating fast, so excited was she. She shyly accepted the man's invitation and then they entered the dance floor.

-I hope not to crush your feet, I don't know much about these dances- Madeleine warned him.

Arno smiled amused: -Don't worry, it's a risk that I gladly run.-

To the rhythm of the strings, the couple began to take the first steps of a romantic waltz. They spied the movements of the more experienced couples and followed the orchestra's melody until they found their time, one note at a time.

The girl felt the glances of other people sometimes, probably due to the episode of the praline, yet she no longer felt the embarrassment of before: her attention was turned only to Arno, to his strong and at the same time delicate hands, to his sweet and warm eyes.

As the dance went on, the two had the feeling of being alone, masters of the dance floor. Chocolate eyes fixed affectionately at a storm-colored gaze, their hands clenched just a little more, their faces approached without them noticing... and then the music stopped.

The sound of applause brought Arno and Madeleine back to the reality of the party, as if the bubble they were in had suddenly burst. They left the dancefloor to make room for the new couples and the girl turned to the Assassin: -All things considered, it wasn't that bad, was it?-

But suddenly the man's face became serious. Trying to keep a relaxed expression, Arno accompanied the girl along the Hall of Mirrors where the guests who did not want to dance had gathered.

Madeleine immediately noticed the Assassin's behavior: -What happens?-

The man checked the people around him a couple of times, and once certain that no one was listening to them he replied: -I have to go and look for the documents I need. I'll try to do it as quickly as possible, in the meantime stay here and don't move.-

Before the girl could ask him a few questions, he replied: -I noticed a couple of Templars before, and also some of their undercover agents. I don't know if they have already recognized me, but the more people around, the less they will try to do something. Do you promise you'll stay here?-

Madeleine tried to spot some suspicious behavior, but in vain. She turned to Arno and saw his worried look behind the mask.

She nodded and smiled at him to encourage him: -Go ahead, Arno. You will find me here, I promise.-

Encouraged by those words, the Assassin just shook her hand as a last recommendation, then walked away discreetly until he disappeared from the girl's sight.

It wasn't even two minutes before Madeleine felt someone grab her by the arm. She whirled around, ready to dismiss the harasser, but she froze as soon as she recognized Madame Beauchesne behind the precious mask that hid her face.

-We need to talk. Now- hissed the woman, and she took the girl away with her.

 

The two women went through numerous rooms until Thérèse Beauchesne found one completely empty. She let the girl into a small sitting room and closed the door so that no one could disturb them.

Madeleine looked around the dimly lit room. In the half-light of a candelabra she could see a small sofa and armchairs around a table, and not far away a piece of furniture over which a large mirror stood.

A slight cough made her turn towards the Templar, who was watching her with some annoyance.

-Are we playing Cinderella now, Madeleine?- exclaimed the woman.

The Breton jumped at that aggressive tone. Thérèse snorted and sat down on the sofa: -I didn't tell you to come here to have fun! Why aren't you after Dorian spying on him?-

The girl tried to reply: - He... He doesn't have to do anything special. He told me to stay in the Hall because it’s safer.-

-Or maybe because he didn't want you around- the Templar insinuated.

Madeleine felt hurt by those words: -No, I... I trust him. He said there are disreputable people and...-

-And you believe him?! Do you trust someone you have known so little? You no longer trust me, perhaps?- replied Thérèse.

She got up from the sofa and went to the window: -I saved you from misery, Madeleine. If I hadn't stopped by Quimper, almost ten years ago... I don't need to remind you of Madame Fournier and her nice place, right?-

Madeleine felt a long tremor run from head to toe. Those word took her breath away and dreadful memories came back to her.

-No, not Madame Fournier... I-I beg you...- she pleaded in a tremulous voice.

Thérèse smiled with satisfaction at her victory. She approached the young woman and addressed her affably: -Then, my little Madeleine, can you explain to me why you trust so much a man you have known for four months, and not your generous lady whom you have known for years?-

The young woman felt lost, still upset by the memories that the Templar had caused her. She felt crushed by Madame Beauchesne's apparently relaxed gaze: she knew that, under that mask, she was studying her next moves.

She took a deep breath to calm down. She tried not to think about her words anymore and instead remembered the good times she had spent with the Assassin, from the first meeting up to the waltz a few minutes earlier: she thought back to the kind words, the jokes, the moments that had gradually brought them closer. And in a whisper, almost more to herself than to her mistress, she said: -I... I think he likes me.-

There was no response from Thérèse. The woman was silent for a few seconds, then she began to laugh softly, and then louder, louder, until her laughter filled the whole room.

Madeleine would have liked to disappear rather than hear what sounded like mocking laughter.

After a couple of minutes Beauchesne managed to calm down, then she approached the young woman: -I'll show you what he likes about you.-

She ordered the girl to turn around, then the young woman felt a sudden pain in the back of her neck: the Templar was undoing without any delicacy the hairstyle Hélène had done to her, and without giving her time to protest she then dragged her in front of the mirror.

-What do you see?- Thérèse asked her.

Madeleine didn’t understand the reason for those actions. She looked at her own reflection in the candlestick light and hesitantly replied: -I see myself.-

Again the mocking giggle of the Templar: -How naive you are, take a good look- she retorted.

She arranged the candlestick better, until the candlelight gave the girl's hair a red hue. And only then did the Breton understand.

-I recognized the dress you are wearing, so you have certainly been to Ville De la Serre. And you've seen Élise’s portrait, right? Now do you understand why Dorian is so interested in you?- she asked her subtly.

Once again Madeleine felt her breath taken away: thanks to the light, now she was no longer in that mirror, but those reddish hair and those blue-tinted eyes belonged to Élise. She tried to move away, no longer daring to look at her own reflection, but the Templar stopped her in the place and forced her to stare at the mirror: -This is the bitter truth, my dear. You're just a second choice, a failed copy of his first love. Did you really think he'd be interested in a whiner like you, otherwise?-

Finally the girl managed to get away from the mirror. She felt a huge weight in her breastbone that prevented her from breathing normally. She didn't want to believe her mistress's insinuations, but the woman had told the truth: her resemblance to Élise was remarkable, anyone would have noticed.

The first tears threatened her eyes, giving her an uncomfortable itchy feeling. She took off her mask and tried to dry them as quickly as possible, hidden from the woman's sight.

She jumped in surprise when she felt the Templar's hands on her shoulders. Thérèse now looked at her with understanding, completely changing her expression in a few seconds: -Poor little Madeleine. Sometimes the heart can play bad tricks, but I can help you.-

The Breton watched in confusion as the woman searched for something in the folds of her dress, and shortly after Beauchesne pulled out a small bottle containing a clear liquid.

-My colleagues and I have decided that we no longer want to pursue our mission of justice, it has cost us the lives of too many people. But we can still find out something about Dorian's group.-

-This is a powerful sleeping draught. It's just a few drops, but this bottle can make a man fall asleep in an hour. Use it with Dorian, find any records regarding what he and his affiliates do and bring it to me. I'll give you seven days, and if you'll bring me something useful I promise you that you can stay with your friend. Am I clear? -

And without even waiting for a response from the young woman, Thérèse slipped the bottle into the neckline of her dress and ordered her to go.

 

Madeleine wanted to disappear. She had only taken a few steps and the gossip whispers around her sounded like mad bees, so numerous were they. She walked quickly with her head down, trying at the same time to hold back her tears. She needed some air and being alone.

She made her way through the crowd, she felt the curious glances of the guests upon her, the gossip did not stop.

"Stop it, stop it!"

She finally found an exit and shortly after she found herself in front of the two large fountains that welcomed visitors in the huge garden of the palace. Had it been daylight she would have gladly taken a walk, but she was still too upset. And there were still too many people around there.

She no longer cared about others and she paid no attention to the people she accidentally bumped into; after all, it was hard to see with tears in her eyes.

She crossed the first gardens and followed the long green carpet that led up to the imposing Fountain of Apollo. She then swerved into one of the side corridors, getting lost in that labyrinth of hedges and manicured trees, until she found herself at one of the many smaller fountains.

Madeleine stopped, realizing that she had run despite the encumbrance of the dress. Still panting, she looked around her, discovering she was completely alone: the noises of the party had disappeared and the only light present came from the full moon.

Exhausted, she sat on the edge of the fountain and removed her mask, finally allowing the tears to run down her cheeks. She took the bottle that Madame Beauchesne had put so roughly in her neckline and looked at its contents.

She felt so heartbroken, confused, and her mistress's words didn't help at all: her mocking laughters came back to her mind; her iron grip on her shoulders as she forced her to look at her own reflection; and those words so poisonous and, at the same time, so truthful.

"You're just a second choice, a failed copy of his first love" she heard in her head, in an infinite malignant chant.

She watched her own reflection in the placid waters of the fountain, but because of the emotions she felt at that moment they gave her a pale imitation of Élise De la Serre's portrait.

Poor Madeleine's desperate sobs echoed in the silence of that majestic park.

 

*****

-Here you are- Arno whispered holding up the documents he was looking for. He tucked them carefully into his inside jacket pocket, then walked cautiously to a closet; the guard he'd stunned earlier was still unconscious, thankfully.

-Bonne nuit- he greeted sarcastically, then the Assassin just opened the door and silently left the room he was in.

He set off to return to the Hall of Mirrors, but he immediately realized that something had happened: in every room he crossed there were groups of people whispering excitedly among themselves, and he noticed that some of the guests were giving him discreet but inquisitive looks.

Arno didn’t understand the reason for those glances. He kept walking, but at one point he overheard a part of conversation between two women.

-You should have seen her, she was all upset. Perhaps she has found out that her husband has a mistress!-

-No, it can't be! Haven't you seen the prom before? They were so cute together.-

Arno would have preferred to solve the mystery on his own, but he admitted to himself that perhaps he would have done sooner. He sighed, then walked over to the two ladies.

-Forgive me, mesdames, could you tell me what happened? I noticed a lot of turmoil among the guests- he asked.

The first woman answered: -Oh, you! It happened when you left the Hall. A woman approached your wife and took her away with her, and after a while the poor thing came back upset.-

An alarm bell began to ring in Arno's head: -Do you know who that woman was?-

The second intervened: -I remember that she had brown hair and a light dress. Blue, or maybe green? In any case, I’ve never seen her here again.-

-And... my wife? Do you know where she went?- asked the Assassin with concern.

This time the two women could not answer, so the man thanked them and headed for the Hall of Mirrors.

He looked in all directions, walked the long hall over and over again, searched the neighboring rooms but in vain: Madeleine was nowhere to be found.

He decided to change his strategy: he concentrated and activated the eagle's eye, observing the environment around him in search of clues. And there, barely visible, golden footprints head towards the exit.

Arno found it very difficult to follow them due to the people who kept passing over them, with the risk of canceling that faint track, but luckily he was able to follow them to the beginning of the park. Without the encumbrance of guests, the man saw with concern that the footprints entered the huge garden.

He took off his mask, as he was alone and there would be no one to see him, and ran following the golden trail of the footprints. In his heart he wondered what had happened to the young Breton and he hoped she was okay. If something serious had happened to her, he would never have forgiven himself.

He turned into a side street and walked down the tree-lined corridor until he came to an open space with a fountain in the center. And on the edge, bending over herself, the girl was sitting.

-Madeleine!- he called out loud, relieved to see her. But the young woman looked up and snapped her head and, under the rays of the moon, Arno saw her eyes swollen and her cheeks streaked with tears. He approached her, more and more worried, and the girl turned away.

-Are you ok? What happened?- he asked her, astonished by her reaction.

The girl sniffed and wiped one eye. Still keeping her gaze down, a single word came out of her lips: -Why?-.

The Assassin remained silent, confused by that question. Madeleine then turned to him, while tears began to gush from her eyelids: -Tell me the truth, Arno. Why did you help me that day at the cemetery? Why did you want me in the Café? Is it because I look like Élise?-

Those questions were like a bolt from the blue. Seeing that the man hesitated to answer, the Breton continued between sobs: -At the beginning I didn't notice, but you always treated me differently from the other waitresses. You were always kinder to me, you wanted me as your personal dressmaker. You called me by her name. And I saw her portrait at the villa. And now, with a dress of hers and with this mask...-

Arno tried to intervene: -Madeleine, I...-

-I am not Élise! And I will never be! I will never be as fearless, charming or cultured as she was. I will never take her place in your heart...-

The young woman realized too late what she had said. Barely holding back a sob, she got up and started to leave, but in an instant she felt Arno's arms encircle her from behind.

She remained motionless, astonished by that gesture. She felt the Assassin tremble, his breath barely touching her cheek. She managed to turn around, facing him, and she saw mixed feelings in his gaze: affection and fear.

Arno held the girl even tighter in his arms, resting his head on her shoulder.

-You are right- he admitted -At first I thought it was impossible to find someone who reminded me so much of Élise. I wanted to get to know you better and hiring you at the Café seemed like the best solution. But I understood immediately that you were not another Élise, despite the physical appearance. And that's okay.-

-But you saved me, Madeleine. If you hadn't warned the others of the Templar ambush I would have died. And then you saved me another time, when I got drunk. It’s true, I mistook you for her, with the candlelight making your hair red. But it also reminded me of a halo and the next morning, when I saw you next to me, you looked like an angel. My savior angel.-

Madeleine listened in amazement to those words. Finally, ever since she met Beauchesne, she felt the pain leave her body and give way to hope.

Arno released the embrace to look straight in her eyes. He slowly raised his hand and brought it to her face to wipe away a tear, then land on her cheek.

-I learned to know and appreciate you, mon ange: your sweetness, your inner strength, your goodness have conquered me. And I realized I love you.-

-Élise will always be an important chapter in my past, but it's time to move on. And I would very much like you to be part of this new story- the Assassin ended.

Hearing those words so sweet and full of love, Madeleine felt her heart beat faster and faster. And when Arno finished the last sentence she could not help herself: she took the Assassin's face in her hands and kissed him on the lips. She had acted on instinct, guided by the feelings she felt for the man. And immediately after her the man kissed her in turn, wrapping her gently in his arms.

-I love you, ma menn- whispered the girl.

-What does that mean?- asked Arno.

Madeleine giggled slightly, almost embarrassed: -I'll tell you another time. Now it's better if we go back to the party.-

Arno took her hand delicately: -I found what I needed, if you want we can go back to the villa. But first...-

And with a magician's gesture he made a precious gold ring appear out of nowhere, with small precious stones set on top, and he nimbly slipped it on her ring finger.

The girl blushed and gasped at the same time: -Arno, are you crazy?-

The Assassin shrugged, smiling amused: -It was forgotten at the bottom of a drawer and I doubt that its mistress will come to take it back. At best she had run away, otherwise...- and he made an unambiguous gesture with his finger along the neck.

Madeleine observed the precious jewel in the light of the moon: -It’s wonderful, Arno. Thank you-

The two lovers exchanged a tender kiss again. Hand in hand, they walked down the park path and decided it was time to leave the palace of Versailles.

The Breton couldn't be happier, but a shadow hung over that joy: Beauchesne's words and the ultimatum she had given her.

Notes:

If you'd like to navigate the Gardens of Versailles, here you can find a map: https://map-of-paris.com/parks---gardens-maps/the-gardens-of-versailles-map

Chapter 9: Before the storm

Notes:

Attention: sexual contents in this chapter

Another evening at the Café Théâtre had just ended. In the main hall the tables and chairs were arranged to allow the maids to clean, while in the kitchen pots and other utensils were tidied up.

Madeleine was nervous. Four days had already passed since the feast of Versailles and Arno's confession. But above all, unfortunately, four days had already passed since Beauchesne’s ultimatum.

The young woman had not found the right opportunity, since Arno had been busy all those days and only returned to the Café late in the evening: those were the only moments they could spend together to chat, exchange affectionate gestures or a few chaste kisses, before the Assassin went to sleep only to be elsewhere the next morning. Time was running too fast, she had to act now.

The young woman sighed, then she went to the stove to remove a pitcher full of hot water. She was careful not to get burned and took a couple of tablespoons of chamomile tea.

She heard the noises of dishes behind her and saw that Ophélie and Célestine had finished washing the dishes.

-Finally tomorrow is a day of rest!- exclaimed the first one stretching.

-We could go for a walk along the Seine. What do you think?- suggested the other.

-I don't know, it's been a bit cloudy for a few days already- Madeleine replied.

The two observed the Breton, intent on pouring chamomile into some cups, and exchanged a knowing smile.

-It’s not because you are busy with monsieur Dorian, is it?- Ophélie asked. Madeleine nearly dropped a cup.

-No! W-what are you saying? W-well...- the girl stammered.

The two waitresses laughed amused, then Ophélie friendlyly put an arm around her shoulders: -Come on, we all know that you two are dating. Did he arrange something romantic for you? You can tell us!- she joked.

Madeleine blushed with embarrassment and began to twist the flap of her sleeve. How was it possible that everyone had noticed their relationship? Both she and Arno had decided not to announce their courtship immediately, but evidently someone had sensed that something had changed between them.

Célestine reassured the young woman: -Don't worry, dear. It’s normal, at the beginning of a relationship, for the two lovers to want to spend time together.-

-It's not that- replied the Breton, -I’m worried that... well, you may think ill of me...-

-What are you saying?!- Ophélie retorted. She took a cup and took a sip, then she continued the conversation: -Even a blind man could see that you two really like each other. Believe me, and Célestine can confirm it, we haven't seen monsieur Dorian so happy for months.-

The other waitress also reiterated those words: -You don't have to worry, Madeleine. What matters is that you two are happy with each other. Anyone who claims you have ulterior motives is just envious or worse.-

Moved by those kind words, Madeleine hugged the two attendants: -Thank you girls. You are my best friends.-

Célestine and Ophélie reciprocated that gesture of affection, then the two girls said goodbye to the Breton and left.

They had just left the kitchen, and Madeleine let out a sad sigh. If only they had known the truth, they would certainly have had a very different opinion.

After making sure she was left alone, the young woman pulled out the sleeping pill that her mistress had given her: the threatening words of Beauchesne and the order to use it with the Assassin to find anything concerning the Brotherhood immediately came to her mind. And finally, sweet and persuasive like honey, the promise of being able to stay with the man.

She had waited too long, the time her mistress had given her was running out. It was time to act.

As she poured more chamomile, the young woman felt a slight tremor in her hands. She uncorked the bottle and poured two drops into the hot cup; it would be enough, she thought to herself.

She almost retched from what she was doing, but she managed to hold back.

“Anything, just find anything, even the most useless thing. Madame will never know. This is all it takes and I will be free. And I'll be able to stay with Arno."

Repeating these words, as if to give herself courage, Madeleine took the drugged cup and headed for the Assassin's room.

 

The girl was climbing the stairs leading to the upper floor, deserted at that hour. It was the usual route, yet it took her longer to walk it. Every three paces she stopped because of the anxiety that made her stomach feel heavy; in her head she could hear two opposing little voices telling her what to do, and the accelerated beating of her heart was the soundtrack to that mental dispute.

"You are still in time. Tell him how things are and he will understand ”said the first.

“If you tell him the truth he will hate you forever. Just find the most useless thing and bring it to Madame. She will never know and you’ll be free”countered the second.

The girl shook her head in an attempt to get rid of those insistent voices and realized that she had arrived at the door of Arno's room. After a last deep breath she knocked and, receiving an affirmative answer, she entered the room. She stood in the doorway for a few seconds, to allow her eyes to get used to the dim light coming from just a couple of candles on the desk. And there, hunched over the table, sat the Assassin. The man turned to see who was and immediately a smile appeared on his tired face.

The girl returned the smile: -I brought you some chamomile tea- she said.

Arno got up from his chair and stretched his back: -Thank you, I really need to take a break- he replied.

Madeleine put the cup down on a small table, then she looked at the man's face and noticed all the tiredness he had accumulated in those days of incessant work. She approached him and  touched his cheek with affection: -You should rest. Can't you stop for today?-

Arno sighed, placing his face on the young woman's palm: -I would like to, but I can't. The Council has entrusted me with a rather urgent mission. I have to organize a...-

The Assassin was interrupted by the young woman, who had placed three fingers on his lips. He gave her a questioning look, then she reassured him: -You don't have to tell me, I understand that certain things must remain secret. That’s okay.-

The man relaxed, leaned over her and kissed her on her cheek: -Thank you- he whispered. He then went to the table with the cup and took it to drink it, but was stopped again by the girl.

-What happens?- asked the man.

Madeleine tried to keep a normal expression, but in her heart she felt a growing anxiety.

"Tell him! Tell him! Tell him!"

She remained motionless to observe the drugged chamomile, but finally she replied: -I think it's still hot, I don't want you to get burned.-

Arno smiled: -On the contrary, it's at the right temperature.-

And when that sentence was over, he drank the chamomile tea in a couple of sips. Madeleine cursed in her mind, but it was done now.

Still making a huge effort to keep her face relaxed, the girl wished the Assassin goodnight and made her leave, but the man immediately stopped her by taking her hand.

This time it was the Breton who gave him a questioning look, and she unexpectedly found herself in the man's arms.

-I know it sounds stupid– he said –But I've missed you these days, mon ange. Could you... stay for a while?-

Madeleine was amazed by that question, but she smiled at Arno's tenderness: -Of course- she replied.

 

They remained embraced in silence, happy to enjoy together that gesture so simple and at the same time so powerful. The Breton crouched against the man's chest, letting herself be lulled by the rhythm of his heart.

-Did they ever tell you that you have sea-colored eyes?- the Assassin asked out of the blue.

Madeleine just raised her head, surprised by his question. She saw the look of affection that Arno was giving her and blushed slightly: -Thank you. You're the first to tell me, actually. You are the first for many things, ma menn...-

-What do you mean?-

The young woman sighed slightly: -You are the first man I've ever felt at ease with. You are the first who managed to make me feel appreciated, desired... You are the first man I have ever loved.-

Arno raised his eyebrows, amazed by her confession: -Really? The first?-

She looked away, caught by a sudden wave of embarrassment: -Yes. In the past I’ve never known someone as kind and understanding as you, someone who made me feel special... Sorry, that's a silly speech.-

The Assassin lifted her face and looked at her gently: -That's not true, Madeleine. Trusting someone so deeply isn't easy. I’m honored to be a part of your life.-

That sentence, those words so deep were like a stab for the Breton. Destiny must have been so cruel, to speak of trust when she had just given him a sleeping pill...

Madeleine pressed herself to the man's chest again, in an attempt to hide the rising tears that threatened her eyes.

-I love you, Arno. I love you, I love you...- she murmured. "It will be all right, I will be free and we will be together" she thought in the meantime, to give herself courage.

She felt the man's lips on her hair, then descended on the forehead, the arch of the nose, finally resting on her mouth. That first kiss, sweet and chaste, was followed by others that were longer, more intense and profound. The hands of both ran along the back, the hips, clutching the fabrics as if they feared that the other might disappear at any moment.

The young woman felt the Assassin's lips move along her jaw and then go up to the root of her ear. She barely held back a moan of pleasure, while she pressed even closer to the man. And it was then that she felt something strange and hard against her lower belly, as well as the sensation of warmth she felt inside her.

Arno also became aware of that situation. He released the girl's neck, which he was filling with kisses along the jugular, and looked down; Madeleine did the same and they both noticed, with some embarrassment, a suspicious bulge.

Despite the little light present, the shame on the Assassin's face was clearly visible. He looked away from the Breton, as he awkwardly tried to hide his erection: -Sorry. I don't know what came over me, I... Merde.-

At that moment Madeleine felt contrasting sensations: on the one hand the embarrassment for the situation that had arisen; on the other hand, positive emotions such as curiosity, a kind of pride. Excitement.

-Was it... Was it me? Only with kisses?- she asked incredulously. Arno nodded, still looking away in shame.

The girl approached him and, as he had done before her, she placed a hand on his face and moved it so that he looked at her: -Arno, what we were doing... I liked it. I feel a strange sensation, here in the center and... I don't know what it is.-

Surprised, the Assassin seemed to understand what the young woman meant. He placed his hand over hers as he looked straight into her eyes.

-Do you want us to find out... together? Are you sure?-

Madeleine kissed him on the lips and replied: -Yes, Arno. I want to do it with you.-

 

Arno kissed the girl again, holding her close. The young woman closed her eyes, clinging to the man's back to support herself, enjoying those sensations never experienced before: his plump lips on her neck, the strong yet gentle hands, the labored breathing of both. She felt her mind light, as if she were inside a cloud that isolated her from reality, in a dream made of kisses and caresses.

All of a sudden, not knowing exactly how, Madeleine found herself on the Assassin's bed, with the latter towering over her.

-Do you want to continue?- he asked, panting. She moved some locks from his face and kissed him passionately, giving him an affirmative answer. She felt his hand descend on her hip, along her thigh until it reached her foot, and then up under her skirt, touching the bare skin of her leg.

The heat she felt inside was suffocating, so Madeleine motioned for Arno to stop. She stared into his dark eyes, black with desire. She just got up and unbuttoned her dress and then took it off, remaining in her underwear. The man also followed her example, stripping off his clothes that now seemed to him a fabric cage.

Madeleine kissed the man tenderly, her fingers brushing the pale scars that dotted his body, testimony to his battles. Long shivers of pleasure made her arch her back as she felt the Assassin's hands behind her as they undid her corset.

The last layers of fabric soon reached the rest of the clothes. Taken by passion, Madeleine seemed to realize only in that moment that they were both naked: she brought her knees to her chest, in an attempt to cover herself, and she averted her eyes from the man.

-It's not the first time you've seen me in this state- Arno joked, to ease the tension.

-But it is for me- she murmured embarrassed.

The girl kept avoiding his gaze, feeling uncomfortable about her own nakedness. She felt a shift in the bed and, shortly after, found Arno beside her. The Assassin gently touched her arm until he reached her shoulder, to which he gave a light kiss.

-Mon ange, we don't have to continue if you don't feel like it- he reassured her.

She raised her head, seeing understanding in the eyes of her beloved, and smiled faintly: -I know, it's just that I'm a little nervous. I know how these things work but... I've never done it. And I don't want you to think badly of me because I'm not capable- she admitted.

After a few seconds of silence, she felt his hands surround her body and Madeleine soon found herself curled up against the man's chest.

While he made her lie down next to him, Arno gently stroked her back: -Only an idiot would get angry for this reason. But I want you to know one thing, Madeleine.-

The young woman looked him straight in the eyes, noting the seriousness of his gaze. He resumed the speech: -I admit that in the past I had some stories, before Élise, but I have always followed a rule: always listen to your partner. And it also applies to you: if you don't want to do something, if you want to stop, just say it and I'll stop. I won’t be angry with you, quite the contrary. Your well-being comes before my pleasure.-

Madeleine looked at him in disbelief, asking him only with her eyes if he really meant what he had just said; and when the man confirmed it once again, the Breton was moved.

-I wish many more men were as understanding as you, ma menn- she murmured smiling.

-Will you ever tell me what it means?- asked Arno, touching her neck with his lips.

-Maybe later...- she sighed. She barely held back a moan, while the Assassin continued to kiss her on her chest and descended lower and lower.

 

Madeleine let out a gasp when she felt Arno's hands on her breast: he lightly touched it with his fingers, causing her a slight tickle, and then explore her shapes with his mouth. She felt his lips move on one breast until they reach a nipple, while he palpated and massaged the other with his hand.

Arno took the time to experiment, alternating more decisive movements with lighter ones, lips with tongue and teeth, and listened attentively to the reactions of his beloved until he understood what made her most aroused. He ran his hand from her breast to her side, gently stroking the soft curves of her belly until it reached her pubis. Another look, another silent request to be able to continue, and his fingers reached the intimacy of the girl.

The Breton could hardly hold back moans of pleasure, she felt her mind clouded by all the stimulations of Arno on her body. She would never have imagined that it takes so little to feel ecstatic. In a second of lucidity she decided to dare: she moved her left hand, which until then was stroking the man's hair, along his face, shoulder and back, until it descended along the abdomen and found his erect member. She touched it all along its length, causing the Assassin a startled gasp, and then she squeezed it lightly in her hand. She felt a feeling of embarrassment and pride at the same time, while she moved her palm around his erection and caused the man satisfied moans.

-Arno...– she gasped, drawing his attention to her –I can't take it anymore. Can we... mmhn ... can we do... "that"?-

The man smiled and gave her a light kiss, then looked straight into her eyes: -Are you sure? -

Madeleine stroked his hair, returning his kind smile: -I'm sure.-

 

Arno moved a lock of her hair to kiss her temple, then reached over to the nightstand next to the bed and opened a drawer. He wandered blindly, feeling with his hand, and little by little his expression grew more and more alarmed.

-What happens?- she asked.

After a last vain attempt the Assassin dropped to the side of the girl, muttering some curses through gritted teeth: -I have no protections. And I don't want there to be "accidents".-

Madeleine was silent, confused by his words, but soon she understood what the man meant and let out a surprised "Oh!". She looked at Arno's face, sorry for his absence, and hugged him.

-You don't have to worry, these are my safe days. And then I'll make myself a lavage. Everything will be fine, ma menn.-

Again, a silent question came from the man's worried gaze, to which the Breton replied with a smile. Finally reassured, Arno resumed kissing and caressing the girl, positioning himself on top of her between her legs.

The young woman let out a gasp when she felt Arno's member rubbing against her femininity and, finally, slowly penetrating her: she felt a short but intense pain, so much so that her body stiffened. She didn't know how to describe what she was feeling and she feared that the anxiety would only make things worse.

-Are you okay?- he asked, agitated. Madeleine took deep breaths to calm herself and she fixed her gaze on the man's eyes, seeing desire mixed with apprehension. She focused on his dark irises, but mostly on the fact that Arno, despite the situation, was holding back. As strong as his desire for her was, the man was doing everything to make her feel comfortable and, above all, safe.

Finally, with her breathing returning to normal, Madeleine no longer felt the initial pain. Now, on the contrary, she had got used to the bulk inside her and she felt a faint warmth coming from below and expanding throughout her body, making her more relaxed and at the same time excited.

-It's okay– she panted, encircling his hips with her legs –Let's go forward...-

Arno began to move inside her, always attentive to any signs of pain, but what came from the Breton's lips were only moans of pleasure interspersed with the call of his name. He gradually increased the pace, leaning over her to kiss her. He plunged his hands into her thick hair, just tugging at a few strands and causing the girl to moan louder.

-Je t'aime, mon ange. Mon cœur...- he said, between one labored breath and the next.

His hands touching her skin, their lips whispering sweet words, their bodies moving with ever more frenzy, her hands scratching his back with too much pleasure. The sound of skin to skin, the ensemble of their voices, even the smells did nothing but excite Madeleine.

-Da garout a ran, Arno, ma menn...- she moaned, wincing again when Arno kissed her breast passionately. And when she thought she had reached the limit, Madeleine felt the Assassin's hands squeeze her hips and a warm gush inside her that caused her one last, satisfied moan of pleasure.

With the last strength left, Arno slipped from the girl's arms and lay down beside her, exhausted from the effort. He felt strangely tired and found it hard to keep his eyes open, but he blamed the love encounter with the Breton. And as his eyelids became heavier, the last thing he felt was Madeleine's lips that rested tenderly on his mouth, finally he surrendered to Morpheus's call.

 

*****

The Breton waited about a couple of hours to make sure that Arno was actually asleep, and once she was sure of his state she decided to take action, albeit reluctantly.

She slowly got out of bed, being hit by the cold air of the room. She covered herself with the shawl that she had left with her other clothes and headed for the Assassin's desk. She took a quick look at the top drawer, the only one open, but she found nothing. She studied the rest of the desk carefully and noticed a note with some notes on it: three letters followed by a dot, the Tuileries garden and the date three days later. She took another piece of paper, copied the notes and put the it in her skirt pocket, being careful to do it all in silence.

She always cautiously got back into bed and arranged the covers. She turned to the side and, in the darkness of the room, she looked at Arno, his relaxed face and the slow movement of his chest. Suddenly she felt a terrible sensation in her stomach, as if she were going to vomit: her anxiety and guilt caused her a pained moan, while her eyes began to water.

"Everything will be fine" she thought, approaching the man and snuggling up to his chest, "From tomorrow I will be a free woman and I will be able to be with you. Forever".

Encouraged by her own words, Madeleine finally managed to fall asleep in Arno's arms, trying to think of happy scenarios with her loved one.

She would never have imagined, however, what her mistress had planned.

Notes:

Hello everyone! Sorry if it took me so long for this chapter, but unfortunately writer's block hit deep in this period. I believe that love scenes are among the most complicated to write, it’s not easy to find the right balance between description and emotion (and avoid the documentary on the one hand and the porn movie on the other XD!). Not to mention the fact that everyone in the family has had Covid, thankfully with no severe symptoms.
In short, April was pretty tough. This chapter was supposed to be longer, but I preferred to divide it into two parts because otherwise it would have taken too long; as they say where I come from "rather than nothing is better rather". I hope you will like it anyway, see you next time =)

Authoress' note: once, among the various contraceptive methods, there were vaginal washes with acid substances. Casanova himself recommended using an emptied, half lemon as protection, "inventing" in a certain sense the modern diaphragm.

Chapter 10: Betrayal

That day was nothing like a spring morning. The sky, if in the previous days had some scattered clouds, was now a uniform gray that heralded rain. Yet the number of people in the streets was very large, eager for recreation and relaxation on that day of rest.

But in those streets there was someone with a tense soul.

Madeleine reached the market square, always full of citizens intent on shopping, and headed for the building that served as a Templar base. She knocked on the door, and a little later she found herself standing before Madame Beauchesne's old maid.

-Good morning, Geneviève- greeted the young woman, but the old one answered only with a nod of the head and signaled her to follow her along a flight of stairs.

The Breton glimpsed the grim expression of the servant, her back straight and her determined step. If she had been a man she would have been a very good soldier, she thought in her mind.

It wasn’t like she disliked her: from the first day she entered Beauchesne's service, Geneviève had treated her with cold courtesy, speaking just what was necessary and never establishing a relationship that went beyond work. From her side she had always offered help, she had tried to chat, and yet the old servant had always kept to herself.

So they went up the steps that led to the upper floor, passed a couple of rooms and finally stopped in front of a door. Geneviève opened it to let the girl in, closing it immediately afterwards.

Madeleine found herself in the same room where Madame Beauchesne had taken her almost ten days earlier. She recognized the loveseat and matching armchairs, the large, slightly off-center mahogany table, and the stucco-decorated walls. However, there were a couple of differences compared to the first time: this time there were numerous sheets on the table, while her mistress was in the company of Gauthier Marchand. She was surprised by that presence, even though she knew very well that the man was a "dear friend" of the lady. He was certainly a fascinating man, but behind his mellifluous voice and his persuasive gaze hid a rational and calculating mind.

A slight cough brought the young woman back to reality. Thérèse Beauchesne looked at her with a frown, as she approached her: -So, Madeleine. Did you find anything useful?-

The Breton nodded, despite her nervousness. She pulled out the sheet of stolen notes and handed it to her mistress. She observed it carefully, but her face soon took on a confused expression; she turned the paper a couple of times, as if some other word were magically appearing, and her face darkened further.

-Is that all?- she asked with a hint of annoyance. She threw the piece of paper on the floor, with contempt, and turned to the young woman: -What do you think I’ll do with a stupid piece of paper! Is it possible that you have not found anything else?- she exclaimed angrily.

Madeleine tried to justify herself: -I looked everywhere, madame. It's the only thing I've found, I swear! Mr. Dorian never keeps information about the Brotherhood at the Café, and...-

-Bullshit!- Beauchesne interrupted her brutally. She went to her with a finger pointing at her eye level, increasingly angry: -You've been in that place for almost five months, and the only thing you can find is a useless piece of paper! Are you kidding me?-

-No, madame! I-I swear, please!- stammered the girl. She had never seen her mistress so furious. She was horrified to see that the woman had pulled her hand away to slap her, but Gauthier Marchand grabbed it before she could hit her.

-That's enough, Thérèse- he said calmly, surprising both women.

The Templar looked at him in disbelief, almost resentful for having stopped her. The man reassured Madeleine, asking her politely if she could wait a few minutes, then he accompanied Thérèse to the other side of the room to be able to converse in private.

 

Although she was still shaken by the Templar's reaction, Madeleine studied the couple carefully in an attempt to understand what they were confabulating; it was useless, since both of them barely whispered, so she had to be content with their expressions: she saw the victorious smile of Marchand and the face of Beauchesne who, as the man spoke, had gone from the fury of a moment before to disbelief, to surprise and finally to satisfaction.

The two talked for a few more minutes, then Thérèse approached the girl again and smiled at her: -Well done, Madeleine. Great job- she said pleased.

The Breton felt confused by that sudden change of attitude. She opened her mouth to ask for an explanation, but her mistress stopped her immediately: -Pack your bags, tomorrow you will leave for Lyon- she ordered.

-What? Why?- she asked stunned.

The Templar approached the girl further, so much so that she was in front of her.

-My little Madeleine– she said in a mellifluent tone, placing a hand on her shoulder –You don't have to worry, it's only for a few days. Or do you doubt me?- she asked softly, but sticking her nails into her shoulder.

The Breton gritted her teeth to bear the pain, amazed by her gesture. She looked the woman in the face, noticing how her gentle smile contrasted with her hard gaze.

-No, madame. I’ll... go right now- she replied. Thérèse smiled even more triumphantly and led the girl out of the room, closing the door behind her.

 

Madeleine had a terrible presentiment. She thought back to the words of her mistress at Versailles, when she promised her that once her mission was accomplished she could stay at the Café. Now instead she had just ordered her to leave the city for who knows how long, after having conspired who knows what with Marchand. A sense of unease filled her, and she had the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

She went to the door and put her ear in an attempt to hear something, but only then did she notice that Geneviève was watching her.

-Geneviève, I can explain...- she whispered frightened, for fear that the servant might report to the Templar. Before she could say anything else, the woman grabbed her wrist and motioned for her to be quiet. She dragged her for a couple of meters along the corridor until she stopped in front of a column with some floral decorations, touched a precise point of the seal and triggered a mechanism: in front of Madeleine's astonished eyes it had just revealed a secret door.

-Go inside and shut up, I'll come and get you later- muttered the old woman giving her a light push in the back.

The Breton, even wanting to ask her for an explanation, entered the dimly lit passage and the door closed immediately behind her. She listened, hearing unclear voices from somewhere, and continued down the hall until she found a niche in the wall. She noticed a kind of little wooden door in front of her, pushed it aside and discovered two small holes in the wall. She looked up and saw that the secret peephole was in the same room she had been just before, right on the side of the table full of papers. Madeleine listened, staying as silent as possible, and she overheard the conversation between the two.

-Are you really sure?- Thérèse was saying.

Gauthier nodded decisively: -An agent of mine had already told me, but this is the confirmation I was waiting for! What else could these letters mean, otherwise? S. C. V., or rather Scilla Cornelia Vico, Italian Assassin Master. And she'll be in Paris in two days.-

The woman’s face lit up, while a cruel smile appeared on her lips: -And we would kill two birds with one stone... C’est magnifique!-

The two walked over to the table, starting to point fingers and draw charcoal marks. After a few minutes the man spoke again: -Now we just have to gather enough people to prepare the trap...-

-... and finally we can kill Arno Dorian- concluded Thérèse.

 

The Breton barely managed to hold back a gasp, closing her mouth at the last second. She felt drained of all life energy, while a tremendous feeling of nausea had blocked her stomach.

How could she? How could she have trusted her mistress so blindly? How could she have been so stupid that she didn't ask herself the real reason for her mission?

She stifled a sob, cursing herself for what she had done: not only had she betrayed Arno, the man she had fallen in love with, but she had allowed his enemies to set a death trap for him and  another Assassin. She wanted to disappear from the face of the Earth, but she forced herself to spy on the two Templars again to find out more details of their plan.

They chatted for a few more minutes and finally left the room. Madeleine leaned against the wall, still shocked by what she had discovered. She began to feel a sense of oppression and felt her breath fail as she heard footsteps in the room approaching the wall.

-Madeleine– called Geneviève –There is a lever on your left, pull it and you can get out.-

The young woman looked for the lever and, once she found it, pulled it down: the wall in front of her slowly opened, creaking slightly, and the secret corridor was flooded with daylight.

She shielded her eyes, blinking rapidly to get used to the newfound brightness, and stepped back into the room. And once again, before she could ask for an explanation, the elderly servant grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her to the table.

-The mistress and Marchand have gone out. Write down everything you need, I'll stand guard- said the woman, and she quickly left the room.

Everything was happening too fast, Madeleine felt lost: she had the sensation of being in a stormy sea where every wave was tossing her trying to drown her, to take her breath away. She was fighting against herself to hold back the tears, the cries of despair, the desire to break everything. She had to calm down or she would go mad with grief.

She leaned against the table and took a few deep breaths. Despite her emotional turmoil, she forced herself to think rationally and logically: she had to focus and find everything that could serve the Assassins. She took a clean sheet of paper and a charcoal and set to work: she drew up a list of the people involved, drew a simplified map of the Tuileries, marked with a different color the points where the Templars would be stationed. She copied all of her mistress's notes, looking apprehensively at the hands of a nearby clock in fear that Beauchesne and Marchand would return at any moment.

Finally Madeleine had everything she needed. She knocked lightly on the door and Geneviève motioned for her to follow her. They walked up the flights of stairs again, but this time the old maid led her to the back of the building, where a small door opened on the opposite side from the square.

-Take another route to go back to the Café, so you don't risk catching the mistress- the woman whispered, looking around cautiously and waving her away.

-Wait!- exclaimed the girl. Geneviève looked at her with her usual frown.

-Why did you help me?- asked the girl.

The woman was silent for a few seconds, then she let out a smile: -Consider it my farewell present- and without further ado she closed the door, leaving Madeleine on a side street. Confused by those sudden and recent events, the young woman could not help but set out on the way back.

 

A cold wind, unusual for that season, accompanied the Breton through the streets of Paris, forcing her to huddle in her cloak to protect herself from that unusual temperature. Lost in her own thoughts, she hadn’t realized that she had arrived in front of Notre Dame. She stopped to look at what had survived of the cathedral, sacked and desecrated during the years of the Revolution: she observed the facade devoid of statues, destroyed by anti-religious hatred, the remains of gargoyles at the highest points, the spire that rose majestically in the sky, and wondered what it might have looked like only a few years ago.

Taken by a strange impulse, Madeleine decided to enter what had been renamed the "temple of Reason": around her there were the last ruins of republican violence, while the columns of the aisles were decorated with tricolor ribbons. Most of the stained glass windows had been restored, replaced by neutral images in place of the previous religious subjects. The girl stopped where once there must have been a statue, judging by the remains of the pedestal; in its place now stood a kind of secular monument in memory of the fallen of the Republic.

After making sure she was alone, the Breton joined her hands to her chest and began to pray in silence: she prayed for the soul of her parents, for the good health of her friends. For Arno's salvation. A single tear ran down her cheek as she thought of her loved one. She quickly wiped it off and, after a last plea, she headed for the exit of the former church.

Once on the street she thought about her parents and their relationship with religion: her mother had never been a practitioner, and this explained one of the reasons why the village priest often quarreled with her. But in great secrecy Brona continued to pray to the ancient deities of Ireland, its creatures and its spirits. She had explained to her that it was a way to remember who she was, where she came from, and to create some kind of connection with her homeland.

Her father Yannick, on the other hand, was very much a believer. He always accompanied her to Sunday mass and recommended that she pray to the saints of their own land. He was very devoted to Saint Corentin, and the young woman remembered the small portrait of the Bishop of Quimper above the fireplace in her old house, the simple hermit's robe and the little miraculous fish that managed to feed him every time.

 

Madeleine had reached the bridge that connected Île de la Cité with Île Saint-Louis. The closer she got to the Café Théâtre, the more she felt her broken heart: how could she even return to that place, how could she even have looked at the faces of her colleagues? How could she even have turned to Arno, after what she had done?

She felt slightly dizzy, probably due to all the tension she had in her body. She paused on the bridge railing and watched the gray waters of the Seine as they flowed placidly, oblivious to everything and everyone. She leaned slightly, as if looking at her reflection in the river, but in reality she wasn’t looking at anything in particular. She had so many thoughts on her mind that didn't immediately notice a presence near her. She jerked her head up, taken by surprise, and found herself beside Lozach.

-Hello Madeleine– greeted the Assassin –We haven't seen each other for a while, how are you?-

-I'm fine, just a little tired- replied the girl. Her words did not seem to convince the Breton, who in fact was watching her carefully.

-Sorry if I will sound like a meddlesome old man, plac'h, but you seem a little upset. Did something happen?- he asked worriedly.

Madeleine felt a knot in her stomach, struck by the Assassin's insight, and she instinctively reached her hand to the chest to tighten her pendant. She tried in every way to keep a relaxed expression, but the penetrating gaze of the man was making her shake.

Her guilt was returning to the charge, causing the young woman to draw a shaking breath.

-What’s wrong, Madeleine?- he asked, more and more worried.

The Breton looked away to prevent the Assassin from seeing her eyes full of tears, and she barely murmured an answer: -I did a very bad thing, Laurent...-

Before the Assassin could investigate the matter, Madeleine greeted him quickly and walked with her head bowed towards the Café Théâtre, dabbing her eyes with the sleeve of her cape. She entered the building, fortunately devoid of customers due to the closing day, and went to her room trying to avoid as many people as possible; which she did easily, as most of them were out enjoying a well-deserved rest.

Upon reaching her room, she took off her hood and shoes and dropped onto the bed. Sheltered within those four walls, Madeleine was able to vent all the accumulated tension: she took the pillow, buried her face in it and let herself go to a desperate cry. Between her tears and sobs the Breton smothered in the fabric all her pain, her anger, her desperation. What was she supposed to do? Tell the truth to Arno and risk his wrath? Pretend nothing happened? No, absolutely no. What to do with Beauchesne’s plan? How could she warn the Assassins?

She didn't know how much time had passed, but at some point Madeleine calmed down. She had run out of tears, while moans and sobs had turned into an apathetic silence. She lay on the bed, hugging the pillow. She thought about what she could do, the various possible scenarios, until she came to a decision. She would have suffered a lot, as would Arno, but it was the right thing to do.

Holding back a sob, the Breton got out of bed and began to pack her luggage: she collected her few clothes and personal effects and placed them in a large bag, along with the money she had earned. When she finished packing the suitcase, Madeleine placed it on the bed and then walked over to a small table that also served as a writing desk. She took the notes of Beauchesne’s plan and put them on the cabinet, then opened a drawer and took out a sheet of paper and ink. She sat down, took her pen and began to write: she started again several times, deleted certain words and added others, she wiped the tears that threatened to stain the paper, until she reached the final version.

Now she only had to deliver it to Arno.

 

Evening came and, with it, some of the Café attendants returned. Madeleine was in the kitchen with Babette to help her prepare dinner, when she was distracted by the voices of Ophélie and Célestine.

-You absolutely have to convince the intendant to leave you the afternoon free! How will you do otherwise with your date?- said the first.

-Stop it, he's just a friend. Nothing more- defended herself the second one, just blushing.

Ophélie continued to make fun of her friend in a nicely way, but she stopped when she saw the Breton.

-Hello Madeleine. How did you spend your day?- she asked.

-Hi girls. I'm fine, maybe I walked a little too much and I'm a little tired- she replied with a tight smile. Even to her friends she had to lie, another fib that added to her long list of sins.

Madeleine listened to Ophélie's account, who told her about their day, their rounds and the encounters they had had; Célestine, however, watched the Breton and noticed her pale complexion, the hunched shoulders and her sad look.

-Are you okay, Madeleine?- she asked worriedly.

The girl moved a lock of her hair and nodded: -Don’t worry, I’m just a little tired. Maybe it's also the weather that makes me a little melancholy.-

That answer seemed to convince the attendant, who did not investigate further. The three young women, together with Babette, dined together and chatted about this and that, exchanging the latest advice on fashion and some gossip.

The pot of chamomile tea, as was Babette's tradition, had been prepared and each of the girls was enjoying a cup of steaming drink.

-Do you know if monsieur Dorian is back? I'd like to bring him a cup- Madeleine asked at one point.

-Ohi, you can call him by his name when we are among us!- Ophélie joked.

-I hope for him so. It has been since when he came back from Versailles I see him always returning late, dead tired. He should rest a little- Célestine intervened.

Madeleine let out a sigh as she poured more chamomile into a cup: -I'm going to see if he is in his room, otherwise I'll ask Madame Gouze. Goodnight everyone.-

-G’night, Madeleine. See you tomorrow!- Ophélie returned.

If only she had known what was going to happen tomorrow...

 

As soon as she left the kitchen, the Breton checked that she was alone. She walked down the corridor and climbed the stairs leading to the first floor without meeting a soul. She checked once again and, sure she was alone, she pulled out the bottle with the remaining sleeping pill and poured it into the cup of chamomile tea. She hated having to do it, but it was necessary.

She arrived in front of the door of Arno's room and saw, from under the door, a slight light: the Assassin was there. She took a deep breath and knocked and, after an affirmative answer, entered the room.

Arno recognized the girl immediately and got up from his chair to meet her.

-Hello Madeleine- he said, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek. The young woman smiled at that gesture of affection and, after placing the cup of chamomile tea on a table, she responded with a hug.

-Always at work, huh?- she joked, noticing the desk full of papers.

The man chuckled: -In two days I will have finished this mission. And I promise you that then we will spend some time together- he said smiling at her.

The young woman tried to smile, but inside her she could hear her soul screaming, as if someone was tearing it apart piece by piece. She felt terrible, but she had to follow her plan.

She only noticed then that Arno had gone off to drink the drugged chamomile tea, and now he was looking at her worriedly.

-Is everything okay?- he asked.

Madeleine sighed at the umpteenth question about her state. Instead of answering she walked over to the man and hugged him, crouching against his chest and almost taking him by surprise.

-Can I ask you a question?- she said. Arno hugged her and nodded.

Although hesitant, the girl continued: -Have you ever been betrayed by someone you trusted?-

Arno was struck by that request. He bowed his head to the young woman, giving her a questioning look, and he saw a shadow of sadness in her sea-colored eyes.

He began to stroke her hair, then he replied: -Pierre Bellec, an Assassin friend of my father. I met him for the first time in the Bastille and it’s thanks to him that I discovered my heritage. He was my teacher in the Brotherhood, and despite his gruff ways I was fond of him.-

-One day, however, Mentor Mirabeau was killed with aconite, just as had happened to monsieur De la Serre. A Templar method, so Élise, who wanted to talk to him, was accused of murdering him. But the truth is that it was Bellec himself who killed him, as he was against his proposal for peace with the Templars. There was a fight, he tried to kill Élise...-

Arno had to stop due to the weight of memories, but managed to conclude his story: -Eventually I had to kill him.-

Madeleine shivered at those words. In her mind she tried to imagine what the old master had looked like, the conversations between the two, the bickering, and their last confrontation; only that, at a certain point, in front of Arno's blade there was no longer the Assassin, but her. If Arno had known the truth, would she have met the same fate?

She buried her face in the man's chest, trying to hide the rising tears from him.

-Promise me one thing– she murmured with a slight tremor in her voice –Promise me that you will always be careful. Promise me you'll always come back safe and sound.-

She felt Arno's hand on her cheek and an upward movement. She found herself looking the Assassin in the face as he wiped away a tear with his thumb. A light kiss, another caress, and Arno held her in his arms again, as if he feared she might disappear at any moment.

-I promise you, mon ange. I will always come back to you- he said with tenderness, and then kissed her on the lips.

 

*****

Madeleine woke up with a start, taken by surprise by the first light of dawn. She looked around her, bewildered, and saw Arno still sound asleep beside her, a sign that the sleeping pill was still taking effect. But she wasn't supposed to be there.

Yet her plan was simple: give Arno the last few drops of sleeping pills, wait for him to be sound asleep, leave him the envelope and leave. But her feelings towards the man had prevailed and the girl had spent another night with him.

But now it was time to go.

The Breton dressed as quickly as possible, remaining without shoes to avoid making too much noise. She pulled an envelope from her skirt pocket and rushed to leave it on the desk. She glanced nervously at the large windows of the room, noticing the cloudy sky from which the first rays of the sun filtered. She had to hurry.

She turned to leave the room, but her gaze fell on the shape that lay in the bed. She approached on tiptoe and observed the Assassin's face while he slept peacefully. Madeleine held back a sob, leaned over his face and gave him a light kiss on the lips.

-Goodbye, ma menn- she whispered sadly. She took her shoes again and, after a last look, silently went out of Arno's room.

 

The Breton moved cautiously, fearful of already meeting someone standing at that time of day. She walked silently to her room, where she put on a pair of comfortable boots. She tucked her shoes into the bag that served as luggage, put on the hood, and walked out of the room to the kitchen.

She lent an ear, hoping that Babette was not already busy cooking, but the large room was still empty. She quickly rummaged through the pantry, took some provisions and put them in the bag. She felt guilty about what she was doing; she searched in a pocket and found some livres that she left on the counter. At least she would not have been considered a thief...

Without wasting any more time, Madeleine almost ran towards the back door. She took the key hanging next to it, opened the door and went out onto the street behind the Café. She closed the door and tossed the key into the space below, sliding it across the kitchen floor.

The girl walked down the street that ran alongside the Café Théâtre. She sighed as she carefully observed every detail of the building, as if wanting to imprint it in her memory, then she hurried away.

The first drops of rain accompanied her to one of the numerous bridges that connected the two river islands to the mainland. Madeleine stopped near the parapet and looked at the gray waters of the Seine, stirred by the strong current. She took out the bottle that the Templar had given her; she looked at it with hatred, while in her head the scenes of her mistress and all the lies she had served her came back. In a fit of rage she threw the small container into the river, cursing Thérèse Beauchesne and her evil plan.

By now the sun had risen, despite the rainy clouds. In the solitude of that spring morning, her eyes swollen with tears and her heart full of grief, Madeleine left Paris.

Notes:

If you want to know more about Saint Corentin, here’s the link to the dedicated Wiki page: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corentin_of_Quimper

Chapter 11: Broken hearts

Silence. A sense of loss. Coldness.

Arno did not understand what was happening. He was in some kind of a huge foggy sea, with no floor or ceiling, no reference point to help him.

For a moment it seemed to him that he was back in the dream world of many years ago, when Mirabeau had made him drink that strange concoction for his initiation. The feeling of uneasiness was also the same.

Despite the strangeness of that situation, Arno began to walk aimlessly in the hope that something would happen.

All of a sudden a shadow appeared to his right: they were from behind and was wearing a wide feminine dress, and the little light present was reflected on their long dark hair.

-Leb wohl, mein Schatz- said the figure, before disappearing into the fog.

Arno held out a hand, confused, and a single word came from his lips: -Mother?-

Another shadow revealed itself on the opposite side, and this time Charles Dorian's features appeared clear and defined.

-Father!- called the Assassin, but took only a few steps until the image of the man disappeared, dissolved in the air like a statue of sand hit by the wind.

The sense of restlessness turned into anxiety when the austere figure of François de la Serre emerged from the fog. And like the previous apparitions, as soon as Arno tried to get close he disappeared suddenly, blown away by an impalpable gust of wind.

The more time spent in that non-space, the more agitated and confused Arno felt. Long shivers ran down his spine as a fourth shadow appeared before him.

-Élise...- he whispered as soon as he recognized the woman. He tried to reach her too, to reach out to touch his previous lover. He only managed to touch her shoulder, but the Templar too dissolved like gray dust.

Arno was breathing hard because of his anguish, his forehead wet with sweat caused him a further sensation of cold and restlessness.

-What does that mean?- he shouted to the wind, in the vain hope of getting an answer. Quick hisses of cold air forced him to shield his face, making him turn away from where Élise had appeared.

And before him, wrapped in a dark cloak, stood the young Breton.

Arno ran in her direction, terrified that she too might disappear. He called her several times, but with every step she took the girl seemed to drift further and further away.

He ran again, frenzied, until he managed to reach her and hold her in a hug.

-Please, Madeleine. Do not leave me too- the man pleaded, while the first tears wet his cheeks. He looked up, desperate, and saw that the girl was crying too.

-Goodbye, ma menn...- the Breton barely murmured. She broke away from the embrace, as if she were a ghost, and after one last smile she turned away, walking away into the foggy sea.

Arno rushed in her direction, while a strangled cry died in his throat. He tried to follow her, but suddenly something pinned his legs: like vines, tentacles with a life of their own that wrapped around his limbs, tangling and trapping him up to his hips.

The Assassin tried to break free, while the Breton became a fainter and fainter shadow. The more he wriggled, the more those metaphysical cords tightened him, further distancing him from his beloved.

A distant voice began to call him: -Arno, Arno...-

 

-Arno! Wake up!-

The Assassin snapped his eyes open, gasping for lack of air. The air from the room hit him suddenly, making him shiver from the sweat caused by the nightmare. He noticed the sheets tangled around his legs, all wrinkled by his sudden movements, and finally saw Charlotte Gouze's worried face.

It took him a few more seconds to get used to the familiarity of the Café, and finally he turned to the woman: -What happened?- he asked panting.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if she didn't know where to start: -I don't know what to say, Arno. It’s already late in the morning, we have searched everywhere. Then you couldn't wake up, you fidgeted in your sleep and...-

Arno interrupted her: -What happened?- he repeated in a more impatient tone.

Madame Gouze was still silent for a few seconds, then she replied: -Madeleine is missing.-

If they had punched him in the face, Arno would probably have felt less dazed. He immediately looked to his side where the sleeping girl was supposed to be, but the place was empty.

-I... I don't understand...- the man murmured incredulously. As if the nightmare hadn't troubled him enough, reality now seemed the result of that dreamlike premonition.

Charlotte told him to get dressed, so that they could discuss what to do elsewhere, and she left the room. Arno got out of bed and dressed quickly, without paying too much attention to any creases. He was about to put on his jacket, as he headed for the door, when he stopped in front of the desk: the night before he remembered having left some notes, but now the surface was clear of every sheet and, in the center, there was a closed envelope.

The Assassin took the envelope, immediately noticing a certain weight, and opened it. The first thing that came out of the wrapper was a ring. Arno took it in his hand and immediately recognized the jewel he had given Madeleine on the evening of the reception at Versailles.

He began to feel an awful sensation in his stomach; he watched the paper protrude from the envelope as if it were a poisonous snake, still and alert, waiting for the right moment to bite him with its killer teeth.

With a trembling hand, Arno took the paper and began to read:

 

My dear Arno,

by the time you read this letter I will already be gone. You may be wondering what happened, why I ran away... it's only my fault. Let me explain.

I told you about my past in Brittany, the death of my parents and the difficulties that followed. I told you everything, except one thing. Such a horrible thing that for years I have never talked about it to anyone, you are the first to know.

After my father died, I went to Quimper hoping to work in a tailor's shop or something similar, but no one seemed to want to hire a country girl. Days passed and I began to despair, until one day a woman stopped me.

She introduced herself as Madame Fournier and said she was looking for a girl for the kitchens of her club. Needless to say, desperate as I was, I immediately accepted. And it was a big mistake from me.

I thought her place was a cabaret, or something similar, but one night I found out who I was working for: Madame Fournier ordered me to bring dinner for two to the personal room of one of her girls, and when I opened the door I stood petrified by the spectacle before my eyes: a sumptuously furnished bedroom and the girl together with a man. Both naked. I left the tray and ran away, thus noticing other couples in those conditions.

I was hired in a brothel.

 

What could I do? Madame Fournier had been the only person to give me a job and a roof over my head, and if I had quit I would have ended up on the street again. I put up a brave face and continued to bring dinner to the various customers.

But soon things turned for the worst: some customers began to notice me and Madame Fournier told me that I too would become one of the "girls". I begged her, pleaded her not to make me a prostitute. She proved to be a cynical and unscrupulous woman: she threatened to beat me if I did not obey and so she began to "educate me" by making me secretly observe the other prostitutes "at work".

You can't imagine the disgust I felt in seeing certain filth, certain shows that those nights offered... and after a couple of months of theory it was time to practice.

I begged the mistress not to let me do that "baptism", but she was adamant: apparently my "purity" had already attracted a lot of money. I felt worse than a piece of meat at the market auction, sold to the highest bidder for the highest price.

I didn't know what to do when at a certain point a woman arrived. She told Madame Fournier that she would want me with her and that she would offer double any amount. They bargained for a long time, but finally I was sold to my new mistress: Thérèse Beauchesne.

 

For me it was like coming out of a terrible hell and entering heaven. I never knew why she wanted me with her, but Madame Beauchesne helped me like no one else before, she gave me an education, she taught me many things. All I had to do was obey her. I couldn't imagine that, in the meantime, she would manipulate me to bind me totally to her. I should have known before, but I trusted too much the person who had saved me from a horrible life.

But only yesterday I discovered the most terrible truth: she is a Templar and she wants to become the new Grand Master at all costs. And to do this she has to kill you, Arno.

I was an idiot to trust her and not ask the reason of her plans, and I was even more idiotic not to tell you everything. I was a coward, I was afraid you would hate me. And that's what will happen anyway, but at least I managed to warn you.

She knows about the secret meeting and is setting a death trap for you. Please Arno, you still have time to prepare a counterattack. I will pray that you survive, even if you don't care about me anymore.

 

The months I spent at the Café and with your company were the best of the last few years. I will never forget your kindness, your love, the sweetness of your doe eyes.

I'm just asking you a favor, Arno: don't blame yourself for what happened, you couldn't know. It's not your fault.

Farewell, my sweet Arno. I wish you to find someone better than me.

 

                                                                                                                                                    Da garout a ran, ma menn.

                                                                                                                                                    Madeleine

 

After reading the last words, Arno dropped the paper on the desk. He felt shocked, incredulous in front of the girl's ink confession.

"No. No no no, please..." he thought, picking up the letter and rereading it one more time.

For the first time, the Assassin had a horrible doubt: was it possible that Madeleine had deceived him? Had she managed so well to gain his trust, so much so that she could learn about the Brotherhood?

He reread the last lines: what sense did she have, then, to warn him of the danger? Was it sincere repentance?

Too many questions crowded his mind. Arno felt his head spin with confusion as his breathing became more labored.

He couldn’t, he didn’t want to believe what the unconscious was suggesting maliciously to him. He had to find Madeleine and hear the truth from her live voice.

He put his hood on his head and went out through the French doors which, from his room, overlooked the terrace. The rain fell copiously and the cold penetrated right into the bones, but the man didn't care. He climbed off the balcony railing and landed on the sidewalk. He immediately activated the Eagle's Eye to identify traces of the Breton, and after turning the corner of the Café he found a faint trail of footprints.

Arno felt a shiver run down his spine: how long had he had before the rain completely erased the track?

He ran following the golden trail, ignoring the curious gaze of the few passersby present at that time of day. He noticed a pause in the footprints in the middle of one of the bridges, and then continued on; but the farther they got from the Café, the more rare and fragmented they became because of the rain.

He did not know how much time had passed since Madeleine's escape, but after a last turn in a square the footprints were less and less until, after a few meters, they disappeared.

Arno wanted to scream, to shout his pain to all of Paris. Instead he remained silent, astonished, as the rain hit him in the face, mixing with his tears.

 

*****

Due to the leaden sky, Notre Dame Cathedral looked almost bleak. It stood gloomy and majestic in the storm clouds, like an elderly widow who had been in mourning for so many years.

But if someone had looked more closely at the façade they would have noticed a hint of color in one of the terraces: a small blue spot that observed the street below without any interest.

Arno held the ring he had given Madeleine in his fingers. He looked at it with sadness, the same feeling that had taken hold of his heart by now.

-How long have you been there?- he asked suddenly, apparently to someone invisible. A few seconds passed and Laurent Lozach revealed himself from the shadows of the cathedral.

-Just a few minutes, it was not easy to find you in this rain- replied the Breton, who had brought himself to the side of his colleague.

They both stood in silence watching the rain, waiting for who knows what.

-I'm sorry, Arno- Laurent said after a while.

-Call me a jerk. As if I hadn't already done it- the other replied harshly.

Laurent looked away, and only then did he notice something strange: far from them, on the side of a column, lay a shattered bottle. Its contents tinged the surface hit by the crash a dark red, from which came a faint smell of alcohol.

-I only took a sip. I spat it out immediately, I had promised myself that for her too- muttered Arno in response to the silent question of the other Assassin.

Laurent looked at his face and realized, behind his hard expression, that Arno's eyes were red and swollen, a sign that he had been crying.

-Arno...- the man hinted, but he stopped immediately when he heard a sob, and new tears gushed from the eyes of the Master Assassin.

-I'm tired, Laurent– Arno sighed –I'm tired of losing the people I love, for one reason or another. What have I done to deserve all this pain? Why can't I be happy for once?-

He wiped his tears and, after another sob, continued in his outburst: -I tried to hate her, you know? I tried to convince myself that she deceived me for her own purposes, that what happened between us was a farce. I can't, even this I can't do...-

-Because you love her, and she reciprocates your feelings too- Laurent intervened.

Finally Arno looked his colleague in the face and, to his great surprise, saw that he was holding the envelope that contained Madeleine's confession.

Laurent anticipated his question and began to explain: -I had just arrived at the Café when I met Charlotte. She told me about Madeleine and was starting to wonder why it took you so long to get dressed. When we went to your room we saw you weren't there, but we saw this. Sorry, but we read the girl’s letter.-

-When I spoke to her yesterday I didn't understand why she was so upset, but after reading her words I understood. Believe me Arno, she was as desperate as you are now. And she loves you, look here.-

At the end of the sentence, the Breton handed Arno the letter and pointed out some circular spots, barely visible, which had creased the paper: the Breton's tears.

Laurent also pointed out the farewell phrase, and Arno recognized the nickname Madeleine had given him.

-What does that mean?- he asked.

Laurent let out a smile: -It means "I love you, my fawn".-

Incredulous, Arno took the letter in his hands and, for the third time, reread Madeleine's confession. In those round and kind letters he read words of pain, despair, love. He could almost see her, as she wrote in her tears the words of her goodbye to him.

 

-Arno, I know that you are suffering and that you would like to go and look for her– Laurent intervened –But now we have to think about the Templars and their ambush.-

-And what can we do?- he asked as he folded the letter from the Breton and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

Laurent shook his head, almost amused, and pulled a second sheet out of the envelope. Arno's confused look was the answer he expected.

-Charlotte didn't see it right away, too, but I understand you were upset by her disappearance. Take a look at it, so you will understand which side Madeleine is on- said sibylline, handing him the sheet.

Arno took it and opened it, and soon a surprised expression appeared on his face: in his hands he had the notes that Madeleine had secretly copied from Madame Beauchesne. She had noted the names of the Templars involved, their helpers, the Tuileries plant and the places where they would hide to ambush the Assassins. It was written in a hurry, as if the young woman had had little time, but in a clear and incontrovertible way.

Arno was speechless, struck by what he had in his hands: how she had managed to obtain certain information remained a mystery at the moment, but at least those notes had lifted his heart from the weight of doubt. Thanks to Laurent, he was now certain: Madeleine had preferred him to her mistress.

-Madeleine... she warned me. She saved me another time...- he murmured in disbelief, more to himself than to the Breton.

Laurent nodded: -And she ran away because she is afraid. Of your reaction to the news, of course, but above all of Beauchesne. I don't know her very well, but I know that she can be very dangerous.-

-Like all Templars, on the other hand- said a voice behind them.

-Then we encountered the exception to the rule- challenged another.

Arno and Laurent turned with drawn swords, ready to attack, but they relaxed immediately when they saw Gerard and Philippe appear.

-And where are you two from?- asked Arno in surprise.

Gerard shrugged a little rain, then replied: -We came back about an hour ago from Tours and reported to the Council, then we went to the Café and Charlotte told us what happened.-

Philippe intervened: -We are so sorry Arno. I never expected Madeleine to be a Templar spy.-

Arno gave a hint of a smile: -Thank you, guys. I didn't expect it either, but there is one thing you need to know- he replied, and together with Laurent he showed the notes of the Templar plan to the other Assassins.

Gerard and Philippe were surprised, the second even had a bewildered expression on his face.

-So the old man wasn't lying!- he exclaimed.

Gerard gave him a half smile: -I told you so- replied triumphantly.

Laurent broke into their conversation: -Could you please tell us what are you talking about?-

Philippe recovered from his astonishment and turned to Arno: -After our report to the Council we immediately ran to look for you, Arno. And after what you have told us, now we are sure.-

And so the two Assassins told their mission.

 

Gerard and Philippe had just entered the second floor of Réginald Chevalier's villa, after having broken open a window. The two Assassins had decided to break into the building in the evening, when most of its inhabitants would have been busy on the ground floor.

For too long the French Brotherhood had no news of the old Templar, and so the Council had entrusted the two of them with the task of tracking him down, discovering his plans and eliminating him.

After several searches they had managed to find his hiding place: his family home in Tours. They were surprised, as they expected a more hidden and difficult to reach place.

Paying close attention, the two moved in absolute silence, using the Eagle's Eye several times to find their target. They walked through various rooms, avoiding being seen and without having to stun someone, and in their exploration they ended up in a bedroom.

They remained hidden behind a large wardrobe, stretched their ears and discovered that in that room there were two people, one rather old and the other a lot younger, who were chatting.

They waited perhaps a quarter of an hour, finally the younger person muttered the other and left; the two men had barely reached out and saw that the first voice belonged to a boy who might have been ten years old.

-My grandson Antoine, the smallest and most affectionate- said a male voice coming from the bed.

Gerard and Philippe were surprised, as if the man who had just spoken was expecting their "visit". Always cautiously they left their hiding place and parted, so as to position each one near one side of the bed. And there, under the covers, lay Réginald Chevalier.

 

The old Templar did not look good: he was pale and with the covers pulled up to his chin. He had a tired expression, almost suffering, and was breathing hard.

He looked at both Assassins and a tired laugh escaped his lips: -So someone still considers me...-

-You've been missing from Paris for a while, Chevalier. We just wanted to see how you were- Philippe said sarcastically, drawing a glare from Gerard.

The Templar sighed sadly: -Probably this news will make you happy, given our respective ties... I'm dying, gentlemen. Fulminant pneumonia, the doctors gave me at most a month to live- he explained to them.

As much as he hated the Templars, Philippe bit his tongue for his own rudeness; Gerard took off his hood, out of respect for his condition.

Réginald coughed violently, covering his mouth with a handkerchief, and after taking a breath he turned to the two Assassins: -I can imagine why you are here, so I would like to offer you an exchange: in that drawer you will find something very important concerning Dorian. Take those notes and bring them to him.-

-And in exchange...?- Philippe urged, while Gerard searched his cabinet.

-In exchange I ask you to let me die in peace, among the people I love the most- replied the old man.

Meanwhile Gerard had found the stack of papers and had a quick glance at its contents; soon an expression between anger and surprise appeared on his face, and he returned pretty quickly to the Templar.

-You made a pact to kill Dorian?!- he asked incredulously.

Réginald nodded: -It wasn't my idea, but Thérèse Beauchesne's. And of the four of them, only Marchand had the good heart to visit me and update me on their progress and their failures, that is, the fates of Lefebvre and Delacroix. And he also revealed to me some information collected by one of his agents about his meeting with an Italian Assassin.-

-Mademoiselle Vico!- the Assassins exclaimed in unison.

The Templar continued in his speech: -I knew that Thérèse and Gauthier would join forces. I ask you to stop them, otherwise one of them will become the new Grand Master.-

-Doesn't that make you happy?- Philippe asked with a touch of irony.

-None of them would be worthy of it: they have a brilliant mind, but they would use the Order for their own purposes and would end up weakening it further. I ask you to stop them, even if just for the life of your colleague- finished the old man.

Gerard leafed through the Templar's notes again, then slipped them into his jacket and signaled to Philippe that it was time to go.

-I know it will sound strange, but thanks for everything, Monsieur Chevalier. I wish you to enjoy your last days in peace- the Assassin said goodbye.

Réginald Chevalier just raised his hand: -Goodbye, gentlemen. And if you stop those two, I will be grateful to you forever- he said, returning the greeting.

Gerard and Philippe retraced the same route as before, always paying the utmost attention, and in silence they left the Templar's villa. Now they had to return to Paris as soon as possible.

 

-This explains their fury towards you!- Laurent exclaimed, once his colleagues had finished their story.

Gerard nodded: -For safety we will send one of our agents to check on Chevalier, but I doubt that the old man has any intention of playing tricks on us.-

-Now, however, we must inform the Council that Beauchesne and Marchand know the details of the meeting with Mademoiselle Vico. And they won’t be happy- Philippe intervened.

-I'll go. After all, this mission is my responsibility and if I have to face the consequences, so be it- Arno declared in a serious tone.

Philippe approached him and put his arm around his neck in a friendly manner: -Oh no, it’s all four of us now! If they get mad at you, they'll have to contend with us all!-

Gerard and Laurent also joined them: -And if Beylier and Quemar threaten to expel you again, I swear I'll punch them!- the first threatened jokingly.

-We will always be on your side, Arno. Never forget it- added the second.

Arno was moved by the affection of his friends. He warmly returned their collective hug and thanked them one by one for their friendship.

Back together again, the "Band of the Baguettes" prepared to leave Notre Dame Cathedral. Before leaving, however, Arno took a last look at the Versailles ring: he brought it to his lips and gave it a light kiss, then slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“I hope you are well, Madeleine. One day I will find you and we will be together again, if it were the last thing I do in my life "Arno thought hopefully.

 

*****

Evening was now falling and the only sounds that could be heard were the roar of the rain and, in the distance, the ferocious howl of the ocean.

Madeleine had lost count of how many days she had traveled. Six? Maybe seven? It didn’t matter, her only thought was to get as far away from Paris as possible.

She had walked tirelessly westward, sometimes she had managed to find a ride on a wagon, but she had always avoided giving confidences to any interlocutors. Even the few times she had taken up residence in an inn she spoke as little as possible, and she always barred the bedroom door with a chair for fear that someone would harm her.

It had been years since she had seen Brittany again, but her heart wasn’t happy. Indeed, in those days she had experienced only negative feelings: fear, remorse, sadness. And pain, as sentimental as it’s physical: her feet ached from morning to night from her long walks, and more than once she had experienced an uncomfortable feeling of nausea.

The young woman shivered violently. The rain seemed to haunt her for days now, so much so that she didn't have a dry body part: her feet were soaked, despite her boots, and her fingers looked like pieces of ice; her hair, due to the constant dampness, was a tangled cloud, and her spare dress was still soggy despite her changing it two days ago.

Madeleine absolutely had to find a dry place and allow herself a few days of rest, to the detriment of her fears. The alternative was to die of cold or starvation, or both.

She huddled in her cloak in a vain attempt to warm up, when suddenly she glimpsed soft lights in front of her. Although she walked badly because of her frozen feet, Madeleine made that last effort and finally reached the gates of a village not too far from the sea.

She leaned against a wall, feeling dizzy. Due to the bad weather there was no one around, but the lights coming from the windows indicated that the village was inhabited. She shielded her eyes from the rain and, not far from her, she noticed a large building with a sign above the door from which came the sound of a violin: an inn.

Madeleine would have liked to consider more options, but dizziness was becoming more frequent. She checked how much money she had and, after a deep breath, she trudged towards the inn.

 

A strong smell of cider and roast meat welcomed the Breton, causing her stomach to growl. There were a few patrons, who chatted amicably among themselves until just before she entered: now, in fact, they were intent on observing her.

Madeleine looked down, hoping to be ignored, but her uncertain footsteps towards the bar counter did nothing but draw the attention to her further.

She leaned badly against the wooden surface of the counter: her vision was clouding, preventing her from seeing clearly her surroundings; her breathing had become heavier from fatigue and rising anxiety; she felt shaking from head to toe, fearing that she had got out of the frying pan into the fire.

"My God..." she was thinking, when at her side heard a deep voice.

-Are you all right?- asked the big voice.

Madeleine raised her head in a vain attempt to identify her interlocutor, but she saw nothing in front of her but a black blanket.

-... help- she whispered faintly, before she passed out.

Chapter 12: New life, old dangers

Madeleine opened her eyes weakly, bothered by a strange light, and was seized by a sense of bewilderment.

She was in a bed large enough to accommodate three people, in a room with little furniture but cozy. There was only one window, through which the sunlight entered.

She instinctively put a hand to her neck and let out a sigh of relief as she found her pendant in its place, but in doing so she noticed that she was no longer wearing her travel clothes, but a simple nightgown.

The girl felt restless and a thousand questions began to crowd her mind: what had happened? Where was she? But above all, who had brought her there?

She sat up and looked around her in the hope of finding some clues as to what might have happened, when suddenly the door opened and a middle-aged woman entered.

-Ah, good morning dear! You finally woke up- she said with glee.

Madeleine looked at her: she was a rather short and thin woman, dressed in simple clothes. Her brown hair was covered with a bonnet and lively hazel eyes looked at her curiously.

-How do you feel?- the woman asked as she placed a tray with food on a bedside table.

The young woman looked around her again, confused: -Where am I?-

The woman replied: -You are in my house in Lanévry, just east of Douarnenez. You slept for two days straight. I was starting to worry about you, you know? After all, you were in pretty bad shape.-

-Two days?!- Madeleine exclaimed surprised.

The woman nodded: -Yep. I was here, pretty comfortable, chatting with my friends, then my husband arrives in a hurry and, surprise surprise, with a poor girl in his arms. "What's happening?" I say, so he goes to get the doctor while I and the others take you to this room. It belonged to my daughters, you know? Anyway, you were really in a bad shape. "Poor thing, who knows what happened" we all ask ourselves, then the doctor arrives. Everything is fine, he says, she needs warmth and a lot of rest. So we sent the men away and me and the others gave you a bath. Oh, don't blush, among women there is nothing to be ashamed of, and no man has seen you. So we changed you and put you to bed, and in the meantime...-

-Fransiza, you're stunning her- said a deep voice.

 

That was probably the biggest man Madeleine had ever seen in her life: he was very tall, so much so that he had to slightly bend over to enter the room, and with a stout build. He looked older than the woman, as suggested by his graying beard and hair. But what had attracted the girl's attention most were his eyes beneath bushy eyebrows, an indefinite gray with an inquisitive expression. In general, he seemed like a person who was best not to piss off.

-Are you all right?- the man asked, always with his deep voice. The girl, at that moment, recognized the same voice of the evening she had arrived in the village.

-Was it you who brought me here?- she asked shyly. The man nodded.

-Thank you, Mr. ...?-

-Briag Jézéquel, and this is my wife Fransiza- replied the man introducing them both.

-What is your name instead?- the woman intervened.

Madeleine was about to answer, but at the last she fell silent. Could she really trust that couple? If they wanted to hurt her they would, she thought to herself, and in general the Jézéquels inspired her confidence. But what if there had been a Templar in that place, perhaps an acquaintance of Madame Beauchesne?

She couldn't run the risk of being recognized, so she came up with a name: -Marie. My name is Marie Dubois.-

A flash of skepticism flashed in Briag's eyes, but the man said nothing. Fransiza, on the contrary, shook hands with the young woman: -Very pleased, Marie. You have a great name, but so common! Here in Brittany we have such beautiful ones: Rozenn, Aourellig, Gwenaela, Tualenn, for example. These are our daughters, then we also have Morvan and Trestan, the boys. Too bad they all went away from here: some in Paris, some in Canada, maybe some even in the former British colonies, the United States or whatever they are called. And they write so little to us, and...-

-Who are you running from?- interrupted her husband.

Both Madeleine and Fransiza turned to the man: the first had a terrified expression, the second instead looked at him with an air of reproach.

-Briag! What kind of question is that?!- she exclaimed.

Madeleine shook her head: -Your husband is right. I come from Paris, where I was in the service of a woman. I found out that she wanted to do a very bad thing and... I warned the victim about her plan. I ran away, but I'm afraid she can track me down and make me pay. I can understand if you don't want me here...-

The two Bretons remained silent, surprised by her story. At a sign of the man, the two told the girl to wait a few minutes, then left the room and began chatting among themselves. Madeleine tried to eavesdrop on their conversation, but the couple were talking in a rather low voice.

Perhaps a quarter of an hour passed, when the couple finally returned to the room.

It was Briag who spoke first: -Listen, Marie. I don't know if your name is really that, I don't care, I just know you need help. If you want to stay here to fully recover before leaving, we will be happy to accommodate you as long as you need and then you will be free to go wherever you like- he said.

-Or– Fransiza interjected, –You can stay here, this house is so big for just the two of us. We would love to have company. We can help you find work, introduce you to the rest of the village... in short, start a new life. What do you think about it?-

The girl was stunned by their proposal and their generosity in wanting to help her, despite her fake name. Finally, after days of pain, she was beginning to feel a new hope within her to leave her past behind.

-I think I'll stay here a few more days, then I'll decide what to do.-

 

*****

A year had passed in Lanévry. A light wind carried the salty smell of the sea through the streets of the village, heralding a beautiful spring day.

Madeleine woke up, touched by the breeze coming through the half-open window. She stretched, still sleepy, and stood up silently. She barely pulled the window to the side and, moving on tiptoe, walked out of her room. After all, she certainly didn't want to wake her up.

She went down the stairs leading to the kitchen on the ground floor, where the Jézéquel couple were already: Briag calmly drank his coffee, while Fransiza checked the milk pot, humming a song:

 

Nozvezh kentan ma eured me'm oa komadaman

Evit servijan ar Roue ret eo bezhan kontan.

Evit servijan ar Roue ret eo obeisso,

Met ma dousig Fransisa 'chom d'Ar gêr or ouelo.

"Tevet, tevet, Fransozig, tevet na ouelit ket,

A-benn un daou pe un tri bloaz me 'deuï c'hoazh d'ho kwelet!"

Paseet an daou an tri bloaz ar berved 'zo ivez,

Nag ar vartolod yaouank ne zeu tamm da vale.

 

Ar plac'hig a oa yaouank hag a gave hir he amzer,

'Doa lakaet e-barzh and sönj da zimezin' darre.

Na pa oa tud an eured diouzh an taol o koanio,

N'em gavas ur martolod 'ban ti a c'houl' lojo:

"Bonjour d'oc'h matez vihan, na c'hwi lojefe?

Me 'zo martolod yaouank' tistreïn eus an arme"

 

-Demat, Marie! Did you sleep well?- the woman asked, as soon as she saw her.

Madeleine greeted the couple, then she took a seat at the table. The woman first poured the milk into a cup for her, and then helped herself. Then she turned to a tray and took it to the center of the table: -I went to Evan the baker, early this morning, and look what I got!- she exclaimed smiling, showing small shell-shaped cakes: -Ta dah! Madeleines!-

The girl, who was drinking, was taken aback to hear her real name, albeit by accident. She ran the milk sideways and this caused her to cough.

-All right, dear?- Fransiza asked worriedly. Briag also silently asked the same question, looking at her with a troubled look.

-All right, I just drank a little quickly- she justified herself between one cough and the next.

But those sudden noises didn’t go unnoticed: from the girl's room, upstairs, there was a slight whimper.

Madeleine sighed and got up from her seat: -I'm going to get her- she said smiling.

A few minutes later the girl returned to the kitchen: in her arms she was holding a three-month-old baby girl with auburn hair and two large brown eyes.

-My praline!- Fransiza greeted affectionately.

-Good morning, Yannez- Briag added, smiling.

The baby girl waved her arm, as if she wanted to mimic a greeting. Madeleine sat down again, holding her daughter in her arms, while Fransiza made funny voices to make the baby laugh.

So much had changed in a year, but Yannez was certainly the biggest surprise.

 

Madeleine had never felt this bad since she returned to Brittany. After three months at the Jézéquels she was able to find work at a seamstress, but she often had nausea and back pain. And that morning, unexpectedly, she threw up.

-What happens to you, dear? Did you eat something strange?- Fransiza asked her, after the girl had recovered.

-No, nothing at all- she mumbled, still red from her rejection.

The woman rubbed her chin with a finger thoughtfully. She was silent for a couple of minutes, when suddenly her face lit up. She motioned for the girl to sit on her bed, then she stood beside her to help her recover.

She looked at the young woman fondly, then she began to speak: -Listen, Marie. You've been here for a month and you've proved yourself a good girl. For some it may be a short time, but I have learned to know and appreciate you and for this I want to help you. I need to ask you a couple of questions and please be honest. Okay?-

As disturbed as she was by that last sentence, Madeleine agreed to her request.

Fransiza asked the first question: -When was the last time you had your period?-

The girl jumped, embarrassed, wondering why that argument. She brooded for a few seconds before answering: -I don't remember exactly. In fact, I haven't had them for a while...-

A long shiver ran down her spine. How could she forget something so important?

But before she could reflect, the woman asked her another point-blank question: -Have you had intercourse lately?-

The girl turned red with embarrassment because of that personal question. She looked down, hoping Fransiza would not insist, but she kept looking at her for an answer. Finally, barely moving her head, she replied in the affirmative.

Fransiza was silent again, muttering to herself, until she spoke again: -So, Marie. Abdominal cramps, back pain, nausea, periods that don't come... I can't be one hundred percent sure, but I think I've come to a conclusion: you're pregnant.-

Madeleine was petrified at that word: she was pregnant. How could this have happened? The night she had spent with Arno was during her safe days, and then she had made the washing too!

Panic began to take hold of her: she felt her breath become shorter and more labored, while big tears gushed from her eyes. She began to sob, taking the woman by surprise.

-What happens, Marie?- she asked worriedly, while she handed her a handkerchief.

The girl tried to calm down, but her desperation had taken over: -It's not possible, I was careful! God, what am I going to do now? My God, my God...- she kept repeating between one sob and the next.

Fransiza didn't know what to do when Briag arrived at some point. The latter saw the crying girl and asked a silent question to his wife.

-I think Marie is expecting a baby- she said dejected.

The man took a chair and sat next to the girl. He stroked her shoulder fondly, until she calmed down a little.

-Can you tell us who he is?- he asked.

Madeleine sniffed, and with voice broken by her crying replied: -I met him at the beginning of the year. He is the sweetest, kindest and most courageous man I have known in my life. I loved him, I still love him...-

-But...- he encouraged her.

The girl began to cry: -He was the victim of my mistress's plan. I managed to give him a warning, but it's my fault that my mistress learned of crucial information. I couldn't stay after what I did, and I bet he hates me now.-

-So... you are not married?- Fransiza intervened. The young woman burst into tears again, thus giving an answer to her question.

Briag was silent as he watched her wife comfort the girl. He thought of a way to help her, until he came up with an idea.

-Yes, you are married. Indeed, you were- he exclaimed. The two women stared at him in astonishment, waiting for him to add more.

-He was called Étienne Dubois and you got married at the beginning of the year. Unfortunately he was murdered by the Jacobins and you decided to leave Paris, afraid that they might harm you. You sold your wedding ring to pay for room and board on the way, and here you are. What do you think about it?-

Again, the two women were stunned by Briag's plan. It was a likely story, but would it work?

Fransiza was the first to express her doubts: -It seems a bit risky to me. What if someone finds out the truth?-

-Just don't let anyone know about it- replied the man, glancing at his wife; he silently alluded to her proverbial silver tongue, and the woman replied with an offended look: -I know very well when to shut up, Briag. Anyway, the priest could investigate.-

-Which priest? The one who was here was guillotined last year, and I don't think another one has arrived- he retorted.

Fransiza opened her mouth again but closed it immediately, finding no other questions to ask. She turned to Madeleine, who had overheard the exchange between husband and wife in silence. She gently took her hand and stroked her back, then she said: -Listen, Marie. I know this thing scares you, it's normal. But we are here to help you, whatever your choice.-

The girl rubbed her eye, still upset by her hypothetical pregnancy: -Fransiza, Briag, I can't. You have already done so much for me, but a child...-

-You don't have to worry about that, dear– the woman reassured her –We both know what to do, we've been through it six times! In fact, maybe we still have something, or we can always ask someone here. For sure we will find old clothes or other useful things.-

-We are more than happy to help you, Marie. Trust us- the man added with affection.

Madeleine found herself overwhelmed by emotions: she was still afraid of what she expected in the future, but she felt that she would make it with the Jézéquel. She wiped away her last tears and, finally, on her face a touched smile appeared: -Thank you, thank you for everything. God bless you.-

 

The nine months of the pregnancy were an emotional swing: one day Madeleine felt happy, the next day she was crying saying she looked like a hot air balloon, and Fransiza did everything to convince her that she was simply pregnant. But most of the time Madeleine felt melancholy: she often lay on the bed thinking about Arno. She wondered how he was doing, what he was doing right now, if he still thought about her.

She had borrowed an old pocket watch from Briag, and when she thought of the Assassin she opened the lid and held it to her ear, imagining it was Arno's. And as the pregnancy proceeded, and she was surprised by the first movements in her belly, she noticed that the baby calmed down too when they listened to the clock.

On Fransiza's advice, she began to dialogue with the creature she carried in her womb, holding the watch on her belly: she spoke of her parents, of her own childhood, of how she had met Arno; she told of his exploits, how she fell in love with him and how she had betrayed him for someone who didn't deserve it. She imagined what they might look like, if they would look more like her or the man. Either way, she prayed every night that they were healthy and strong.

And one morning in the middle of winter it was time to give birth: Madeleine felt severe pains in her belly, so strong that she could not stand up. Fransiza immediately ran to call the midwife, while Briag accompanied her to her room and helped her to lie down on the bed.

-I'm afraid, Briag- she moaned between one pang and the other, as her anxiety became more pressing. Briag passed a cloth soaked in water over her face and reassured her: -It will be okay, Marie. I can only give you one piece of advice I've learned from six deliveries: listen to your body. If it tells you to get up, move, do anything, do it. And if the midwife tells you otherwise, send her to hell.-

The young woman did not remember much of her labor, other than that it was quite long. But she remembered that at some point she must have punched the midwife, or maybe she had screamed a curse so vulgar that even Briag's eyes popped out, as he had heard her from outside the room.

And finally, after what had seemed like an eternity, she found a screaming little bundle in her hands: she pulled aside a flap and inside it was a baby girl trying to get rid of all that stuff; but as soon as she touched her on her cheek she calmed down, and the baby girl squeezed Madeleine's finger with her little hand.

New tears, this time of joy, gushed from the young woman's eyes; and while the women there were celebrating with jubilation, in a whisper she welcomed her daughter: -Hello Yannez. I'm mom...-

 

*****

At the Jézéquel house, lunch had just finished. Briag had gone for a drink at the "Golden Boar", the village inn, and to chat with his friends for a while; Fransiza had stayed in the kitchen while Madeleine was in her room cradling her daughter for the afternoon nap. With the ticking of the pocket watch in the background, the young woman sang her mother's lullaby, gently squeezing Yannez in her arms. At first the baby girl resisted, she tried to free herself from the blanket that wrapped her and wanted to grab her mother's pendant at all costs.

-You are really curious, huh Yannez?- joked her mother. Since the songs weren't working, Madeleine tried fairy tales and tales, and finally managed to put her daughter to sleep. She kissed her on the forehead and placed her gently in the crib, then she left the room and joined Fransiza in the kitchen.

-Am I wrong or does she take longer to fall asleep these days?- asked the woman.

-In fact, she has been sleeping restlessly for a while, but I hope that some fairy tale will help calm her down- replied the girl.

-You should try the legend of Ys. Here everyone knows it by heart.-

-I don't think a tragedy with religious implications is very suitable for a three-month-old baby...-

-It's never too early to learn the right way, Marie.-

The girl took a jug of water and filled a glass, and only then did she notice that the woman was working on a dough. Intrigued, she asked her what she was preparing.

-Just a few cookies, nothing complicated. Can you get me some cinnamon, please? It's on the top shelf, on the left- Fransiza said.

Madeleine went to look in the cupboard, but the spice jar was completely empty.

Fransiza clapped a hand on the forehead, then took off her apron and went to the door: -I'm going to the neighbor for a second to borrow some, in the meantime could you continue to mix the dough?- she asked, and when Madeleine gave her an affirmative answer she went out and closed the door behind her.

The girl began to mix the dough, but after a few minutes the door opened again and closed quickly. She lifted her eyes to say something, but the words died in her throat: a long shiver of terror ran down her spine when she saw that the person who had just entered was not Fransiza.

-How long, Madeleine...- Thérèse Beauchesne said with a grimace.

 

In that instant, Madeleine's worst nightmare had come true: she had no idea how she had found her, but now the Templar was in front of her. And she certainly didn't mean well.

-Are you not happy to see me, my little Madeleine? Well, I'm really happy to see you again- said the woman. She had said these words with a smile on her lips, but her eyes were filled with hatred.

The girl was petrified with horror and said nothing. She prayed with all her heart that Fransiza or Briag would come back as soon as possible, and in the meantime the Templar kept talking: -You have been really good at hiding for so long. And I thought you were a trusted person. But no, you betrayed me. You bit the hand that has fed you all these years... for what, Madeleine? What did that filthy Assassin promise you?-

For the first time, in that moment full of tension, Madeleine opened her mouth: -What happened?- she asked, trembling slightly.

Thérèse took a couple of steps in her direction and began to tell: -It's been almost a year already. A year from what must have been the perfect plan to get rid of Dorian once and for all. Everything was ready: our agents lined up in their places waiting for our signal; Gauthier and I with guns in hand, hiding and waiting for the Assassins to arrive. Everything was perfect, it would have taken only one blow to become Grand Master, but then something happened.-

-It was a massacre: it seemed that hundreds of Assassins had hidden in all the ravines of the Tuileries, they appeared so suddenly that they caught us unprepared. And then the coup de grace: someone had hidden a barrel of gunpowder in our station and shot it. You can imagine very well what happened: I managed to save myself by a miracle, even if I was hit by the flames, but Gauthier... did not survive the attack.-

The Templar's face was contorted with anger as she undid some buttons of her shirt to show the burn marks on the left side of her torso: -My Gauthier, the love of my life, died in my arms, after I had miraculously managed to take him to a safe place. And it's only your fault, Madeleine.-

The Templar suddenly gave her a slap in the face, so violent that Madeleine ended up on the ground. Her cheek burned and her eyes began to water with pain, but the woman moved closer to her again. She took her by the collar of the shirt and pulled her up to a few centimeters from her face: -I have been hiding in Lyon for months, to recover and to escape the hunt of the Assassins. And, lo and behold, I didn't find you there as I ordered you instead. And then I began to think about you, about what you told me at Versailles, and then I understood. You, little, ungrateful Madeleine, had betrayed me- and then, with unexpected force, she slammed the girl against the leg of the table.

Madeleine barely held back moans of pain, as tears were now running down her cheeks. She prayed with all her strength, in silence, that someone or something would stop the Templar's fury. She feared that Beauchesne was going to hit her again, but she walked away a couple of meters and, much to her horror, she drew a gun from behind her back.

-Geneviève was kind enough to tell me how did you know about the plan, after having a good “chat” together- Thérèse said with a cruel smile, while she pointed the gun at the girl.

-Needless to say that, after having told everything, she paid for her betrayal. But you can ask her yourself, in Hell! -

-And who the heck are you?- said a voice suddenly.

 

Fransiza had returned to her house at that precise moment and found herself in front of an inconceivable scene: an unknown woman, armed, threatening an innocent girl.

-I don't know who you are, but I order you to immediately leave my house, if you don't want to...-

Fransiza could not finish the sentence: the Templar immediately changed the target, pointed the gun in her direction and fired.

Fortunately, the Breton managed to avoid the blow, ducking and backing away over the threshold of the house. She fell to the ground, to the amazement of passersby, and with a shocked expression on her face.

Madeleine was still shaken by the story Thérèse had told her and the terror had now taken hold of her. And in that moment the Templar did something even more terrifying: as soon as Fransiza had fallen into the street, the woman slammed the door of the house and locked it. Now no one could get in or out.

-So, where were we? You know, I hate it when I get interrupted...- said Thérèse playing with the gun, but just then there was another noise: a childish cry from the upper floor.

Madeleine's eyes widened, realizing that Yannez had woken up because of the Templar. And that now she too was in danger.

Without even thinking about it, the young woman grabbed the first object she found on the table and threw it at her former mistress. Luck would have it a rolling pin, but she didn't care if it actually hit the woman; she immediately ran up the stairs with one thought in her head: she had to get her daughter out of there.

Meanwhile Fransiza tried every possible way to open the door, but it was locked from the inside. She tapped hard on the wood, and her anger turned to despair as she heard the baby cry from an open window. She began to shout, attracting the attention of passersby: -Help, please! There is a madwoman who wants to hurt Marie! Please, there’s also a baby girl!! My God, someone help them!!!-

 

Madeleine ran as fast as she could, despite the fact that she still felt the pain from the beating she had suffered. She had to move fast, she had to get Yannez to safety.

She ran to her room, where she saw her daughter in the crib crying and waving her hands and feet in the air.

-I’m here, Yannez! Mom is here- said the young woman, taking her in her arms. The baby girl stopped fidgeting but she kept crying, and she looked at her mother as if to ask her what was going on.

Madeleine's heart cried to see her daughter like that, but now she had to leave the building. She turned to leave the room but stopped abruptly: in front of the door, still with the pistol in her hand, stood Madame Beauchesne. She fired a shot, but the girl managed to avoid it by throwing herself to the ground. The Templar advanced into the room, towering over the young woman and backing her up to a wall. Madeleine looked around her, but she was trapped in the corner between two walls, squatting and with her daughter in her arms.

She was trapped.

Thérèse was now a couple of meters from her and was looking at the little girl in amazement. Her gaze went from Madeleine to the baby a couple of times, then she spoke with acidity: -Did you even have the courage to make a little monster? And who is the idiot who has...-

She stopped suddenly, as if she were doing some mental calculations, until she came to a conclusion: -Dorian?!- she exclaimed amazed.

Madeleine did not reply, but the Templar was right: Yannez was Arno's daughter. She reminded her every day when she looked into her eyes, the same doe eyes as her father.

Beauchesne made a face of disgust: -I knew you were a whore after all. It will mean that I will have to take care of her too...-

-No, please! She has nothing to do with it!- the girl begged as she held her daughter even closer, as if to hide her from the Templar's eyes.

Thérèse looked at her with cynicism and a cruel smile appeared on her lips: -Oh, don't worry. Your little monster and I will have a lot of fun together: I could throw her out the window, walk on her, or throw her directly into the fireplace! How many beautiful ideas are coming to my mind!-

Madeleine burst into tears, terrified by her words: -NO! No, please! I beg you...-

The Templar looked at her with hatred and pointed the gun for the third time: -Goodbye, Madeleine.-

The young woman bowed her head, now certain that this would be the end of her. She looked bitterly at her daughter and her chocolate eyes filled with tears. She lowered her eyelids and gave her a kiss on her forehead: -I'm sorry, Yannez- she whispered between sobs.

Thérèse took aim and, with an evil grin, fired.

The echo of the blow could be heard all the way to the street, and Fransiza screamed all of her pain as she uselessly clapped her hands on the door.

 

Madeleine jumped at the din of the shot. Yannez was crying even harder, but she immediately noticed something strange: the bullet had not hit her.

Slowly, the young woman turned her head in the direction of the Templar and was shocked by what she saw: Thérèse Beauchesne was motionless, with a surprised expression on her face. Her eyes were bulging and her mouth wide open in a silent scream.

A gloved hand pressed hard on the woman's neck, from which dripped a long trail of dark blood that stained her shirt scarlet. Another hand, instead, firmly held the wrist that held the gun, which was now pointing at the ceiling; the bullet hole intended for her was clearly visible on the surface.

The Templar's eyes were fixed on the girl, and after a last gasp the woman fell lifeless to the ground. Behind her, immediately after retracting the blade, stood a hooded, out of breath man: he wore a blue jacket with garnishments on the cuffs and shoulders, and at the side he held a marvelous ancient-fashioned sword. He raised his head towards the Breton, and Madeleine recognized his chocolate-colored eyes as they were looking at her with concern: -Arno...- she whispered trembling.

The Assassin climbed over the Templar's body and squatted down at her side. His face seemed more and more worried as he said something, but the girl didn't hear a word: all the tension accumulated in those dramatic minutes had put a strain on her temper. The fear of impending death, the danger that she and her daughter had run, and now the return of the man she loved. Too many emotions all at once: with the last strength left, Madeleine hugged her daughter to her chest, while she passed out in Arno's arms.

 

*****

It had all happened too fast.

Arno had arrived as quickly as possible in the village of Lanévry, having learned that it was Beauchesne’s destination. Once in the village he had lost track of her, but suddenly the screams of a woman had attracted his attention.

He ran following the people in the street, and saw a middle-aged woman banging hard on a door. He activated the eagle's eye and, through the granite walls, he saw a figure with a reddish aura chasing someone along a staircase. He had to act now, or the poor victim would surely be dead.

He noticed an open window on the upper floor and, without wasting a second, began climbing the wall to reach it. He paid no attention to the passersby who observed him with disbelief and in a few moments he found himself inside the house. He heard the desperate screams of a girl and ran quickly across the corridor, quickly reaching the room where the aggressor was standing.

He discovered that the attacker was none other than Thérèse Beauchesne and saw that she was threatening her victim with a gun. He acted instinctively: he reached her from behind, grabbed her hand and pointed it upwards, shooting at the ceiling; at the same time he pulled out the hidden blade and struck the woman in the neck, leaving her no way out.

In the limbo of her memories, Arno saw the Templar's memories: her crying over Marchand's body and her vow to revenge. The tortures she had inflicted on poor Geneviève and the confession that she had extorted from her. Her travels in disguise, the information of an agent of her and, finally, her entry into Lanévry with a death wish in the heart.

Now that the Templar was dead, the Assassin turned to the girl and his heart leapt: in front of him, still in shock, stood Madeleine.

Arno breathed a sigh of relief, thanking Heaven for having arrived in time to save her.

He approached the young woman and tried to ask her how she was, but the Breton passed out in his arms. He looked at Madeleine's suffering face, now unconscious, and couldn't help but see the baby girl she was holding.

Had the girl met someone else? Was she married? The Assassin quickly studied the room, but saw nothing that suggested the presence of a man.

He shook his head: it was not the time to ask those questions. Now he had to think of Madeleine, the little one and the poor woman who was outside the building.

Gently, Arno moved the girl's hand and picked up the baby to put her in the cradle.

-I'll be right back, petite, I'm going to help your mom- he said calmly to the baby girl, who was still crying. He then returned to Madeleine and, still cautiously, took her in his arms; he walked the few meters that separated the corner of the wall from the bed and placed the Breton on it. He took off her shoes and accommodated the girl better, then he looked at her to see if there were any injuries, but apart from a red mark on her face she had nothing else.

His face softened when he saw the young woman again: a year after her disappearance and countless searches, the woman he loved was before his eyes. He would have preferred to see her again on a less dramatic occasion, and if it hadn't been for his intervention she would have surely died; if that happened, he would never forgive himself.

He touched her face gently, moving a lock of hair from her face, and he bent down to kiss her on the forehead: -It's all right, mon ange. I'm going to call for reinforcements- he whispered.

Yannez's crying brought him back to reality. Arno went back to the cradle and picked up the baby again and, after giving a last hateful look at the Templar's corpse, he left the room and went down the stairs as quickly as possible.

During the journey he tried to calm the baby girl, murmuring words of comfort and massaging her back: Yannez did not stop crying, but at least she no longer stirred in the Assassin's arms.

He finally reached the entrance door and turned the key still in the lock: he just had time to move from the opening, otherwise the woman he had seen earlier in the street would have run over him.

 

As soon as she saw the door open, the woman ran into her house. She had tears in her eyes and kept calling a person: -Marie! Marie!- she screamed desperately.

Arno was confused: why was she calling Madeleine by another name? He didn't have time to stop her before another voice caught his attention: -Where is Marie?-

The Assassin turned around to the owner of that baritone voice and in front of him he saw a stout man with graying hair and beard. He had an expression halfway between frightened and furious, and he gave the impression of being able to behead a man with his bare hands. In a nutshell, he seemed like someone who was better not to wrong.

Arno saw that he was looking at the baby with apprehension, then handed her to him and replied: -The girl is fine, she is alive but fainted. We need a doctor for her and...-

He was interrupted by a woman's scream from upstairs.

-And a gravedigger for the madwoman- he concluded.

Notes:

The song in this chapter is “Fransozig” and at this link you can listen to Tri Yann’s version, a breton group: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XtlJKHIBWzE
More info about madeleines (cake): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madeleine_(cake)
More info about the legend of Ys: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ys

Chapter 13: Yannez

The people who flocked to the Jézéquel house couldn’t believe what had happened: who was the woman who had attacked Marie? And who was the man who had stopped her?

Everybody was expressing their own hypothesis when the doctor finally arrived, followed by the gravedigger and two of his assistants. They made their way through the crowd of onlookers and entered the building, and after a few minutes the gravedigger came out, always with his helpers in tow, carrying the body of the madwoman covered by a cloth. None of them answered the questions of those present, who clamored who that woman was.

Only one person seemed to know the truth, and that person was sitting at a table right in that house. And he was definitely nervous.

 

When the doctor and the gravedigger arrived, Arno had tried to follow them into the room where the crime had occurred, but Briag had stopped him immediately.

-Sit there, I'll be right back- he said, pointing to a chair. He had said those words in a calm tone, but his eyes said something else entirely: “Don't you dare move. You and I need to have a good chat”.

And now, after the Templar's body had been taken away, the Assassin was still sitting at the kitchen table. He waited patiently for the man to return, even though he was beginning to feel nervous for all that waiting.

After about a quarter of an hour spent observing the room, Arno heard a soft whimper and heavy footsteps. He looked up at the stairs and saw that the man from before was walking down the steps with the baby in his arms.

-I thought I didn't have to change diapers anymore, at my age...- he mumbled as he sat down in front of Arno.

He arranged the child better, arranging her on his leg, then spoke again: -I’m Briag Jézéquel. My wife Fransiza is helping the doctor, in the meantime the two of us will have a chat. Are you okay with it?-

Arno didn’t like the fact that the man addressed him as if he were a five-year-old child, but he nodded with conviction; he certainly wouldn't have let him push him around...

Briag moved the infant to the other leg and resumed the conversation: -First of all, who are you and where do you come from?-

-My name is Arno Dorian, I come from Paris and I would like not to play twenty questions- replied the Assassin with a frown.

The old Breton held his defiant gaze, but unexpectedly a slight smile appeared on his face: -You are a determined man. I like it.-

The atmosphere immediately became more relaxed and Briag resumed his speech in a more friendly tone: -So, Arno, can I call you Arno? Can you tell me who was the woman who tried to kill Marie?-

The Assassin nodded to the man's first request, then replied: -She was called Thérèse Beauchesne and she was her former mistress. Let's say that she was part of a secret association with subversive objectives, like the Jacobins.-

Briag made a face on hearing the last word: -Better this way. Some people don't deserve to be alive- he commented to himself.

Arno smiled faintly, but when Briag was about to ask him another question, the little girl started crying again. The Breton got up from his chair and placed the baby on his shoulder, making her jump slightly and murmuring words of comfort.

-Heck, I left the watch in the room...- he muttered nervously.

Arno raised an eyebrow, intrigued: -Watch?-

Briag nodded and explained: -Her mother uses it to make her fall asleep, it seems that the ticking calms her.-

-If you want, I have one with me- proposed the Assassin, putting his hand inside his jacket and extracting the watch that had belonged to his father.

He handed it to the man so that he could use it, but Briag didn't take it. Instead he stood looking at Arno with a concentrated look, as if suddenly a strange idea had occurred to him: with two wide strides he reached the Assassin and, catching him by surprise, put the baby in his arms.

 

-What...?- Arno was saying, but he was interrupted by a moan from the infant.

He looked disconcerted at the Breton, who continued to alternately observe him and the watch he held in his hand. And Arno understood what he had to do: although perplexed by the foolish idea of the man, the Assassin placed the child on one leg, so that she rested her back against his abdomen, and put the watch close to her little ear so that she could hear it but without being too loud. And to his surprise, after a couple of minutes, the little girl calmed down.

Arno found himself smiling as he looked at the infant he was holding in his lap: the little girl was trying to grab his gloves and cuffs, observing those mysterious things with curiosity. The Assassin moved her slightly to the side, took a handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabbed the baby girl's cheeks to wipe away the marks of her previous tears.

He asked what her name was, to which Briag replied: -Her name is Yannez.-

Arno leaned over slightly, so that he could see the little one in her face, and spoke softly: -Hello Yannez. My name is Arno and I am a friend of your mother.-

Yannez watched him with an intense gaze, then waved her arm and uttered a cheerful verse.

-Do you know Marie?- Briag asked, while he kept an eye on the movements of the man.

The Assassin placed the infant again against the abdomen, then replied: -Her real name is Madeleine Caradec. I met her in Paris at the beginning of last year, she was looking for a job and I helped her find an honest one. I had no idea of her mission, but over time we got to know each other better and... we became good friends.-

Briag listened with interest, but at the last sentence he assumed a skeptical expression: -“Good friends”?- he repeated with a hint of sarcasm.

Arno was disturbed by that behavior, so Briag rolled his eyes: -She mentioned what happened in Paris. She told us she met a man and fell in love with him, but then happened what happened, thanks to her mad mistress. I guess the “victim” of that plan was you, right?-

The Assassin sighed: -All right. We were in a relationship but then, about a year ago, she disappeared for no apparent reason. She had left me a letter with a warning of the plan to eliminate me. And now here I am.-

The Breton was silent for a few seconds, mulling over what he had heard. He opened his mouth to ask him another question, but at that moment Yannez began to fidget.

 

-What happens, petite? - Arno asked, addressing the child directly. Yannez had stopped nibbling at his thumb and was now looking upwards, waving her hands in the same direction in the meantime.

-She wants to see your face- explained the Breton.

-My... face?- asked Arno perplexed.

Briag nodded and motioned for him to put the baby on the table so that she would sit on the edge. He recommended that he support her behind the head to make her stand straight, then he positioned himself next to the Assassin to keep an eye on him.

Arno was increasingly perplexed: he felt like a wild animal under observation by some strange scientist, waiting for who knows what phenomenon.

He decided to play along, so he turned to study the child too: now that he could see her face clearly, he noticed the hair of the same shade as Madeleine's, the thin eyebrows and dark, attentive eyes. He softened at the sight of her chubby cheeks and a rebellious curl protruding from the side of her head, then shifted his gaze to a small hand that was approaching his face. And then, unexpectedly, Yannez slammed her hand on his nose.

-Ouch!- Arno exclaimed, taken by surprise. Yannez let out an amused verse, as if she were trying to laugh.

-Yes, that's my nose- muttered the Assassin, but he couldn't suppress a smile on his lips. Yannez's eyes widened, then moved her hand to the right until it stopped on the scar under his left eye.

At that moment Arno felt a strange sensation in his chest: a tepid warmth, a sense of peace and tranquility, tenderness. He felt an inexplicable feeling of protection towards that baby girl, even though he had known her for five minutes.

 

While Arno played with Yannez, who was now trying to grab his finger, Briag carefully observed the interaction between the two. Yannez was not a shy child, yet it was the first time he had seen her so intrigued by a stranger. He thought of a phrase that her mother often repeated when she felt melancholy: “She has her father’s eyes”.  And now that he had met Arno and had listened to his version of the story, and had seen them both together, a strange hypothesis began to tickle his mind.

Suddenly there were footsteps coming from the upper floor. Arno and Briag turned towards the staircase and shortly thereafter the doctor and Fransiza joined them on the ground floor. The first had a serene expression: -The girl is fine, she has suffered a strong shock but she has no injuries. She needs time to recover, if other problems arise do not hesitate to call me- he said, then greeted those present and left the building.

Fransiza let out a long sigh, but when she was about to speak she stopped suddenly: only at that moment, in fact, she had noticed Arno holding the child in his arms.

-Briag?- she said to her husband. The annoyed tone and the frown, however, meant another question: “What the heck is that stranger doing with Yannez in his arms?!”.

Unfortunately for Arno, the man answered her in Breton; at those words Fransiza opened her eyes wide in disbelief, and she continued to question her husband in their own language. The couple went on for a few minutes, and from their fleeting glances Arno knew they were talking about him. And he didn't like it at all.

He gave a slight cough to get their attention, then he turned to them: -I understand you don't want me to know what you are saying, but it doesn't seem polite to me talk to someone when the person concerned is here- he said annoyed.

The couple fell silent instantly. They exchanged a knowing glance, then Fransiza approached Arno holding out her hands to the baby: -It's time to feed- she simply said.

The Assassin let the woman take the baby in her arms, even though Yannez didn't want to let go of his finger. Fransiza reassured the infant, then she said goodbye to Arno and went up the stairs to Madeleine's room.

 

Arno knew it was time to leave, even though he wanted to see Madeleine. He asked Briag for a piece of paper, a pen and ink, and once he had everything he needed, he wrote a note for the young woman.

-Can you give it to her when she has recovered?- he asked the man, who accepted his request.

-Do you have accommodation?- Briag asked him in turn. The Assassin shook his head, so Briag accompanied him out the door, walked a few tens of meters and found themselves in front of a large building. It was on two floors and above the door stood an old wooden sign representing a wild boar with some apples in front of its legs.

-This is the “Golden Boar”, the best inn in the village. Come, I'll offer you some cider- the man proposed.

The inn was crowded with people intent on chatting, but as soon as the two men entered there was a dead silence. Arno understood that it was due to his presence: he noticed the curious looks of the majority of those present, while some looked at him with distrust.

Briag took a little time to reassure them: -Cheer up, people! He is the man who saved Marie and the baby girl!-

The effect was immediate: after an exchange of greetings with the nearest tables, the patrons resumed chatting among themselves, as if they had lost interest in the stranger accompanied by Briag.

-Am I wrong, or are you an important man here?- asked the Assassin, amazed. Meanwhile they had reached the counter and Briag had ordered two boules of cider.

-Let's say that I have a certain authority. My family was already respected in the past, and I helped a lot of people during the Revolution. I don't consider myself that important, but here people hardly forget a favor or an offense- he explained.

The cider boules were served by a bald man in his sixties, but who wore a thick reddish mustache. He wore a large apron and Arno sensed that he was the owner of the inn.

Briag greeted the man with energy: -Gurwal! I really needed you, old fox!-

The innkeeper returned the greeting: -Hello Briag! How are the girl and the baby?-

-Luckily fine. And it’s thanks to him that today we don’t mourn two innocent victims- he said putting a hand on the Assassin's shoulder.

-He needs accommodation, do you by any chance have a free room?- continued Briag.

-Sure! I immediately tell my wife to prepare one- replied the host, then he moved away from the counter to go to the back.

Arno grabbed his boule and swirled the golden liquid inside it; he took a sip and smacked his lips a few times to get a better taste of the cider. It wasn't the first time he'd drank it, as Lozach always managed to get hold of a bottle somehow, but he didn't mind the light, sweet taste and the bubbly sensation it left in the back of the throat.

 

Evening was approaching now, and after a couple more glasses of cider Briag got up to leave. Arno recommended the note he had left for Madeleine, to which the Breton replied not to worry. He even invited him to his house the next morning, so that he could know how Madeleine was.

The Assassin thanked him again and greeted him, then left his place at the counter and followed the innkeeper to what would be his room for the night: it was furnished in a spartan way, but at least the bed seemed comfortable. He paid the host for the room and breakfast the following morning, and old Gurwal left satisfied.

Alone at last, Arno unlaced his boots and placed them under the window; he took off his jacket, weapons and gloves and placed them on the only chair and small table in the room; finally, remaining in his shirt and trousers, he filled a basin with water and rinsed his tired face, then lay down on the bed.

He let out a long sigh, thinking back to that busy and eventful day. He still couldn't decide which episode had amazed him the most: finding Madeleine after so long, saving her at the last minute from Beauchesne's revenge or discovering that she had a daughter. He only hoped to be able to talk to her, but that would be up to her alone.

 

*****

Briag walked back into his house just as Fransiza was coming down the stairs with Yannez in her arms.

-Where were you?- asked the woman.

- I just took Arno to the “Golden Boar”- replied her husband.

-Ha, are we already at these levels? You have only known him for a few hours and you are already in confidence?- she retorted.

The Breton was disturbed by that sentence: -Why are you so hostile? He told me several things, such as that Marie is not her real name.-

Briag briefly recounted what the Assassin had told him, while Fransiza gently tapped Yannez between the shoulder blades. The woman listened carefully to her husband's words, but a worried expression remained on her face.

-Listen, Fransiza. I know it all happened quickly, but I'm sure Arno told the truth. Think about it: if he had wanted to hurt Madeleine or the baby girl, he would have done it without problems- he said, trying to convince her.

The woman sighed: -I don't know, Briag. I only looked at him once in the face and he didn't have bad eyes, but I have the impression that he is hiding something. You certainly cannot say that he is an ordinary man.-

-We should go check on the girl. Has she not recovered yet?-

But before Fransiza could answer, Yannez let out a rather loud burp.

The two spouses were taken aback, then Briag laughed merrily: -Whoa! She could rival the patrons of the “Golden Boar”!-

-I forbid you to verify this hypothesis.-

 

Madeleine felt her head heavy, but with great effort she managed to open her eyes. She looked around her, bewildered: the daylight was now dim, but she recognized her own room.

As she regained knowledge, the images of the latest events came back to her mind: the Templar's ferocious expression, the tears on Yannez's face; and last and most surprising, Arno's worried face. She seemed to have lived a shocking dream, but the bullet hole in the ceiling and a dull stain on the floor, where there had been Madame Beauchesne's blood, convinced her that it was all true.

Suddenly an alarming thought occurred to her: what had happened after the assassin's arrival? And where was Yannez?

Luckily, at least her second question was answered immediately: the door to her room slowly opened and Fransiza peeked out from the threshold; she breathed a sigh of relief and entered with her husband, holding the baby in her arms.

-Oh, you woke up! How are you, dear?- Fransiza asked, handing her daughter in the meantime.

Madeleine took Yannez and checked that she was okay, and once she was sure of her condition she gave her a kiss on the cheek and placed her on the chest.

-I feel better, even though I was very scared. What happened?- asked the young woman.

It was Briag who replied: -You were examined by the doctor and the gravedigger took away the body of the woman who attacked you. Fransiza took care of you, while I spoke to the man who saved you. And he told me a few things about your relationship... Madeleine.-

The girl startled to hear her name. She instinctively hugged her daughter in her arms, but the faces of the two Bretons showed no signs of anger.

Fransiza drew up a chair next to the girl, sat down on it and put a hand on her shoulder to reassure her: -Stay calm, dear. We assumed that Marie Dubois was not your real name, and after what happened today we understood the reason for your choice. What we care about is that you and Yannez are okay and that that woman won't hurt you anymore.-

The young woman lowered her gaze: -I'm sorry I lied to you- she said desolately.

Briag also approached the side of the bed: -You were afraid and we understand it, Madeleine. It was Arno who told me.-

-Arno? He is here? Is he still here?- she asked, her cheeks just blushing.

Briag smiled: -Yes, he took a room at the inn. And he asked me to give you this- he replied, then handed her the note written by the Assassin. The girl held it in her hand, undecided whether to read it now or later, but she decided to wait and so she placed it on the bedside table.

Fransiza resumed the speech: -Listen, Madeleine. Briag told me what that young man told him, but I have the impression that he did not tell us something important. Is this something secret or can you tell us?-

The young woman looked at the couple, hesitant. She could not reveal the truth about who Arno really was, but at least mention a few details: -Let's say that he is part of a secret group that fights against another secret group, to which my former mistress belonged. It’s a conflict that spans time and space, and which I fear will go on forever.-

She probably hadn't reassured them at all, but at least they knew something more about the Assassin.

Briag snorted: -Secret companies here, other secret groups there... Humanity always finds something to complicate its life!-

 

The three Bretons laughed, but soon the Jézéquels became serious again. Briag resumed the conversation: -Madeleine, I seemed to understand that between you and Arno there was something important. I was able to observe him together with Yannez and... I noticed a certain similarity.-

Fransiza continued: -We have discussed this and we have to ask you a question: is Arno the father of Yannez?-

Madeleine expected this question. She lowered her head to look at her daughter. She stroked her auburn curls and observed her doe eyes: -Yes, Arno is Yannez's father- she confirmed.

Fransiza couldn't hold back a sigh: -And what are you going to do now that he's here?-

The girl looked away thoughtfully. Her gaze fell on the Assassin's note and she remembered she hadn't read it yet. She took the piece of paper in her hand and read it:

 

Dear Madeleine, I hope you feel better when you read these words.

I know that you will still have to recover from what has happened and that you will be asking yourself a lot of questions. But for now I'd like to give you one: would you like to talk to me tomorrow?

I can understand if, after everything that's happened, you don't want to have anything to do with me anymore. And I will respect your choice, whatever it will be. I'll drop by tomorrow morning for your answer.

With love, Arno

 

The young woman felt different emotions after reading that message: was it possible that Arno wasn't angry with her? Did he still care about their relationship? And how would he react to the bond with Yannez?

She must have been silent for several minutes, because at one point she heard a slight cough that distracted her from her thoughts.

-He wants to talk to me. He will come by tomorrow morning to find out the answer- she explained.

Briag and Fransiza looked at the girl and saw that she was tense. The woman was the first to speak: -What do you want to do? Are you afraid it could be a trap?-

-No!– Madeleine exclaimed –No, he wouldn't hurt me, I feel it. He would have done it sooner, otherwise. Right?-

Briag looked at his wife with satisfaction, as if to say “See, that's what I said.”

-Do you want to meet him, then?- asked the woman again.

Madeleine was silent, but in her heart she already knew the answer.

Chapter 14: The end of the journey

Arno woke up at the first light of dawn, teased by the scent of melted butter that came from the inn’s kitchen. He was used to very simple breakfasts, usually a cup of coffee and biscuits, and those delicious early-morning smells made his stomach rumbles. Now fully awake, the man got up and began to prepare for the day: he washed and dressed, arranged his weapons in a safe place and left his room to go to the ground floor.

He sat down at a table and was greeted by a rather stout and playful-faced lady. He guessed that she was the innkeeper's wife, in fact the woman listed the dishes offered for breakfast: local cheeses with honey, seasonal fruit, homemade cakes and biscuits. Arno was amazed by the abundance of choices and decided to try a couple of biscuits and a slice of far breton, a very creamy cake enriched with applesauce flavored with rum.

After breakfast, Arno thanked the innkeeper and went back to his room to prepare for the visit to the Jézéquels. It was useless to lie to himself: the Assassin was nervous about Madeleine's response.

He hadn't been able to see her again after killing the Templar, and he wished she'd recovered. He wanted to talk to her, tell her how much he missed her when she ran away from the Café, but he feared her denial of his request. Arno couldn't imagine how the girl might have felt after her flight from Paris, but she probably feared seeing him again. At that thought the man felt a pang in his heart, but he had sworn that he would respect her decision, whatever it was. Even if it meant he would never see her again.

He glanced at the window and saw the first passersby fill the streets of the village. Waiting would have been of no use: after putting on his jacket and arranging his weapons, Arno left the inn and walked towards the Jézéquel house.

 

Arriving in front of the door of the two Bretons’ house, Arno raised his hand to knock but stopped in midair. He took a deep breath to calm himself, but his nervousness did not seem to diminish: what if the couple had prevented him from seeing Madeleine? Briag had sounded a reasonable man, but his wife had seemed hostile to him.

There was only one way to find out: after a last deep breath, the Assassin knocked on the door a couple of times and waited. A few seconds passed and the door swung open, revealing Briag's face.

-Good morning, Arno. Please, come in- the man greeted, moving from the door to allow the Assassin to enter.

-Good morning to you, Mr. Jézéquel. And you too, madam- he replied, addressing both of them. Fransiza, sitting by the table, nodded back at him, but her face was no longer distrustful as it had been the day before.

Arno remained silent, waiting for one of them to say something. Again he felt as if he was being watched, and indeed the couple was watching him with interest.

After another few minutes without saying a word, the Assassin felt his throat dry and looked away, feeling a slight embarrassment. Suddenly Briag broke the silence, turning to his wife: -See?-

The woman nodded her head without ever losing sight of the Assassin.

-What happens now?- the latter asked, now impatient from that strange game.

Fransiza got up from her chair and replied: -We wanted to see how you would react. We know you want to see Madeleine, and we wanted to understand how much you really care.-

Briag intervened: -If you were aggressive or violent, we would have thrown you out of the house. But since you have been waiting patiently, now you can see her.-

Arno's eyes lit up. He felt his heart beat faster while he, incredulous, asked the Jézéquel for confirmation: -She... wants to see me?-

The Breton nodded: - Exactly, she accepted your request.-

-But on one condition: that you leave your weapons here- Fransiza added firmly.

Her husband looked at her questioningly, but Arno obeyed: it was probably a condition born of the woman at that moment, but if that meant reassuring them he gladly accepted. He drew his gun and pulled the sword from his side, then handed the weapons to the two Bretons.

-I entrust them to you, but please treat them well- he said, earning a frown from Fransiza.

Briag stifled a chuckle, then turned to the Assassin: -She waits for you in her room.-

Arno thanked the couple and climbed the steps leading to the upper floor. He walked down the short corridor to Madeleine’s room and came to a closed door. He knocked gently a couple of times and, hearing an affirmative answer, entered.

 

*****

Madeleine checked Yannez again, who was sleeping soundly in her crib. She took another look in the mirror to check that the braid was in order and waited. Arno would have arrived in a short time, she knew it. She had agreed to see him, but she couldn’t shake the nervousness off her. How would he react once they were reunited? Dramatic scenarios crowded into the girl’s mind: would he scream, threaten to beat her, or worse?

She shook her head firmly: no, Arno wouldn't have done that. He would be angry, sure, but he wouldn't hurt her.

At one point she heard someone knock on the door of her room. Madeleine took a deep breath: it had to be him. She adjusted her dress for the last time, more to calm the agitation than to remove any creases, and she let the visitor in.

 

The young woman could not hold back a gasp: a year after her flight, Arno was again in front of her. He hadn't changed at all: the same elegance, the same proud bearing. Only his eyes had a different expression, showing at that moment a mixture of concern and expectation.

She, on the other hand, felt changed due to her motherhood: by now she no longer noticed the dark circles under her eyes or the sense of tiredness due to the nocturnal awakenings of her daughter. Yet the Assassin looked at her as if she were a goddess or a lady out of some Renaissance painting.

Neither of them had uttered a word yet, and the silence was becoming awkward. After arranging a lock for the umpteenth time, Madeleine decided to start the conversation: -Hello.-

-Hello. How are you?- said Arno.

-Fine. Thank you.-

Again, an awkward silence took over the two. The young woman was beginning to feel nervous, but she made an effort to ask what she most feared: -So... Madame Beauchesne...-

Arno gladly replied: -She joined her friends in hell. She will never hurt anyone again.-

Madeleine let out a sigh of relief. Now she was truly free from the Templar and from her terrible revenge. But now another question began to haunt her: -How did you find me?- she asked him. She felt a slight tightening in her stomach, but she tried not to notice.

-Lozach. He was the one who tracked down Beauchesne after the Tuileries ambush, and he warned me as soon as he found out she was headed here. I would have liked to take care of it, but the Council refused to grant me this request. Perhaps it was their punishment for the information on the meeting with Mlle Vico.-

Madeleine felt more and more nervous. Obviously her spy job had had consequences for the Assassin. She looked at the man's face to look for signs of anger, but she didn't see any. Despite this, the agitation she felt within herself threatened to become more and more oppressive: -Arno, I...-

Suddenly the young woman heard a noise behind her. She turned, hearing a moan from Yannez, and walked over to her cradle. The little girl was fidgeting in her sleep, but Madeleine immediately understood the reason for her upset: she took the rag doll that was in the corner of the cot and brought it back to the little girl, who calmed down instantly. She sighed in relief as she tucked her blankets in, watching Yannez stand with arms outstretched like a bearcub. She smiled and turned to her interlocutor, but found Arno a few steps away from her. She remained motionless, taken by surprise by the man's dexterity and without the slightest idea of his intentions.

And suddenly he hugged her.

 

Madeleine was stunned, she would never have expected that sudden gesture. She was still motionless in the Assassin's arms, waiting for him to do something, anything; but Arno was silent, continuing to hold her in his arms.

-You should hate me- she whispered, her voice trembling.

-Believe me, I tried. I have not succeeded. And I don't want to do it.-

Those words, spoken gently, dissolved all the Breton’s doubts: despite the lies she had told him, her deceptions and her flight, the Assassin had incredibly forgiven her.

Thin tears ran down the cheeks of the young woman, which she relieved for all the tension accumulated in those minutes. Barely holding back her sobs, Madeleine rested her head on the man's shoulder, at the same time clutching her hands behind his back.

-I'm sorry, Arno. I'm sorry for everything. If I could go back...- she sobbed, clinging to the fabric of his jacket.

-Shhh...- Arno just whispered, placing his cheek on her head.

-I missed you, mon ange. I thought about you every day, praying you were safe and hoping I could see you again. You can't imagine how happy I am to have you back in my arms.-

Madeleine just moved her face away and saw that the man was crying too; but they weren't tears of remorse, like hers, but of joy.

Arno put a hand to the girl's face to wipe her cheek, passing his thumb under her eye and along her cheekbone. He held his hand on her face, then lowered his head and gently kissed her on the lips.

God, how much she had missed those kisses! How many times had she dreamed of a last hug, a last caress from the man she loved! The Breton brought her hands from the Assassin's back to his face. She caressed him gently, mimicking the man's gesture, and she looked him in the eyes: those sweet and dark eyes that had struck her so, the first time they met.

-I missed you too, ma menn- she murmured, leaning her forehead against his.

 

The young woman would have liked to remain embraced by her loved one a little longer, but a slight moan attracted her attention. She turned her face to the cradle and saw that Yannez had woken up and that she was watching her curiously.

She gave Arno a tired smile, as if to apologize; but the Assassin didn't seem to be bothered by that interruption. Indeed, he too was looking at the child, smiling.

-I think she needs you- he said amused. Madeleine gave him one last kiss on the cheek, then she walked over to the crib and took her daughter into her arms.

-Here I am, Yannez. Did you sleep well?- she asked the little girl, who replied with a shrill verse. The Breton giggled and rubbed her nose against the smaller one of her infant, making her laugh.

-I have to introduce you to someone. Here he is- she added, turning the child so that she was sitting against her chest.

-Actually, the two of us have already met- Arno said, taking the young woman by surprise. The Assassin leaned towards the child, so that he was at the same height as her eyes, and spoke to her softly: -Hello Yannez. Do you remember me? We met yesterday.-

The child stood motionless as she studied him with her dark eyes. She held a small hand close to her mouth, almost brooding, but suddenly, taking both Arno and Madeleine by surprise, she jerked her arm forward and hit the Assassin's nose again.

-Ouch!- the man complained, rubbing the painful part.

-Yannez! Where are your manners!- said Madeleine in a tone of reproach, while the little girl made a cheerful verse.

The Breton smacked lightly her daughter's hand: -I'm sorry Arno, I don't know what got into her-she apologized, but Arno replied with an amused smile.

-I see she has a good memory. She also has a good aim, I think- he joked.

She smiled and motioned him over to the bed so that they could both sit down. Once they were seated, Madeleine placed the baby better on her lap and let her play with the fingers of her hand. Arno could not take his eyes off the baby and continued to look at her with tenderness.

-She has the same hair as you- he said, turning to the girl.

“And the same eyes as you” she thought, looking into his face.

At that moment, the Assassin's face took on a slight reddish tinge, as if he were thinking of something embarrassing. He gave a slight cough, perhaps to give himself courage, then exposed his thought: -So... did you raise her by yourself?-

-Briag and Fransiza helped me a lot- replied the girl.

-Of course, and I'm glad you met such good people. But what I meant to ask you is something else. You don't have to answer if you don't feel like it. Well...-

Madeleine looked at him curiously, surprised by his reticence: -Where is her father?- she said, guessing the question of the Assassin, who in fact nodded.

After the man's possible anger at her betrayal, which fortunately hadn't been, the other moment that the Breton feared had come: how could she have told him the truth? And how would he react?

She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it immediately. She had no idea how to tell him, whether she be direct or not. But perhaps, after all, words were of no use: she took Yannez from her lap and handed her to Arno, brushing his hands as he took the baby in his arms.

The Assassin was confused by that gesture. He gave the young woman a questioning look, but he only got a smile from her. And then he understood.

He turned the child so he could see her face and studied her features again, her face, her eyes. Big dark eyes, which now looked all too familiar.

Arno barely held back a gasp. This time it was he who opened and closed his mouth several times, incredulous at the answer the Breton had given him.

-She is... my... our...- he stammered in amazement.

Madeleine nodded: -She is our daughter.-

 

Those words struck Arno like a bolt from the blue, leaving him amazed. His gaze shifted from Madeleine to Yannez and back again, as if his brain had yet to fully process the latest events.

-You said they were your safe days- he murmured confused.

Madeleine lowered her eyes and bit her lip, feeling a sensation of discomfort: -They were, I swear to you. I also made the washing, but apparently it didn't help...-

For the third time since they had met, silence fell in the room. Madeleine looked up slightly to study the Assassin's face: once again there was no anger in his eyes, just so much confusion. And a shadow of regret.

-If I had known...- the man murmured.

-You couldn't, Arno. I didn't know it myself, I discovered it after escaping from Paris- said the Breton.

Yannez waved her arms in Madeleine's direction and Arno handed her the baby. The Breton placed her on her chest and gave her a kiss on the head: -When Beauchesne attacked me, she discovered her existence. She said she would do horrible things to her... If it wasn't for you...- she said in a broken voice.

Arno wrapped her in his arms, holding both her and the baby, and kissed her on the temple. He felt the girl tremble, trying to hold back her tears, and he made circular motions behind her back to calm her.

-Like in Versailles, do you remember?- he whispered gently.

After a last sigh, Madeleine managed to calm down, without noticing that a smile had appeared on her lips: -It was one of the most beautiful evenings of my life, even if my mi... my former mistress ruined it.-

-Not entirely, though- Arno replied, as he slipped a hand inside his jacket.

Sensing that movement, Madeleine broke free from the embrace with the Assassin to understand what he was doing, and after a few seconds her eyes widened in amazement: appearing as if by magic, Arno was holding in his fingers the ring he had given her in the park of the palace, after they had confessed the feelings they felt for each other.

-Did you keep it?- she asked, still surprised.

The Assassin nodded: -I've always kept it with me, ever since you left. It was the only thing I had left of you.-

Madeleine felt a warm sensation in her chest. For all those months Arno had kept with him the only object that remembered their love and the beautiful days they had spent together, despite the fact that it was together with the letter of her confession about the plan to kill him. Since she had left Paris, the young woman had tried to convince herself that the Assassin would hate her for what she had done, and not without reasons. Now, however, in front of that small, precious ring, she could perceive the affection and feelings that Arno had continued to nurture towards her.

Yet there was still a shadow of doubt in her heart, as if she were afraid to let go, to definitively abandon her past and be able to imagine a future with the man she loved.

-I don't deserve your forgiveness, Arno. Nor your love- she murmured.

The Assassin placed his hand over the Breton’s one, gently touching her: -You deserve this and more, Madeleine. You deserve to be happy, and I... would be honored to be part of your happiness.-

The young woman was not looking at Arno as he spoke, but as soon as she heard the last sentence she raised her head, surprised by those words. And she was even more surprised when she saw the man take her hand and, at the same time, hold out the ring to her.

Arno took a couple of deep breaths, however he couldn't hold back the trembling in his voice: -Would you like to marry me?- he asked.

 

Yannez tried for the umpteenth time to grab her mother's pendant, but Madeleine didn't notice. She went red in the face, excited, as her heart beat so hard it sounded like a runaway drum.

-After everything I've done to you, do you still want to be with me?- she asked incredulously.

The Assassin nodded: -Yes, mon ange. You have entered my heart by now. After Élise's death, I thought I would never meet someone else so special. On the contrary, I had even promised myself never to see anyone again, so much that her death had upset me.-

-But then I met you. It's true, the reasons are what we know, but the more I got to know you, the more I discovered a sweet, sensitive and, in your own way, strong girl. And when you left, when I read your words in that letter, I realized that I could never go back. I realized that I could never forget your smile, the way you hold your pendant or move a strand when you are nervous, your voice.-

Arno had spoken straight away, leaving his heart free to express his love to Madeleine. However, at a certain point he stopped, and if before his voice was uncertain due to the emotion, now a sense of fear transpired: -But I can understand if you don't want to have anything to do with me. I for one am a victim of the war between Assassins and Templars, and many Masters of the past have also lost people they loved: I know what it means to always live on the alert, always careful not to be discovered or worse.-

-But I swear to you on my life, Madeleine, I will do everything to protect you and our daughter. I swear that...-

-That's enough- the Breton suddenly interrupted.

Arno stopped as the sentence he was saying died in his throat, his face worried in an expression of expectation.

Big tears gushed from the young woman's eyes, tears of joy accompanying a radiant smile. She had to let go of Arno's hand to wipe her cheeks, but finally she nodded the head: -I will- she whispered excitedly.

Finally, all Arno's tension melted like snow in the sun. He smiled, at first incredulous, then more and more happy that Madeleine had accepted his proposal. Asking her hand, the Assassin slipped the ring to the girl's left ring finger, thus sealing their promise of love. Without stopping to smile, Arno hugged the young woman and the baby girl, trying in vain to hold back his tears. He looked at the Breton, who seemed even more beautiful than he remembered her, and kissed her on the lips.

-You have no idea how happy I am now- he murmured in her ear.

The Breton was about to answer him when Yannez made a distracting verse. She leaned over to her daughter, who was watching her with a confused expression. Madeleine wiped her eyes again and reassured her little girl: -I am getting married to dad. Are you happy, Yannez? So we will be a real family.-

As he watched his future bride, Arno felt a strange sensation in his heart. That word, family, so simple yet so important. He, who had lost his almost twenty years earlier with the death of his father, and then the De la Serre, and in some ways the Brotherhood; he would never have imagined that, one day, he would finally be able to have a family of his own. And he promised, both to himself and to the two people in his arms, that he would not allow anyone to ruin his happiness again, Templar or not.

But just then the door to the room swung open and Fransiza entered with the force of a hurricane.

 

-OhmygodMadeleineImsohappyforyou!- Fransiza exclaimed so quickly that she seemed to have said only one word. Her face, red with happiness, was streaked with tears, and her smile was so wide that it seemed to go from ear to ear.

As she congratulated the couple, Briag silently walked in too. A joyful smile had also appeared on his face, which usually had a gruff frown, and the man was struggling to hold back the tears.

After the initial surprise, and trying not to be suffocated by a hug from the woman, Arno turned to the couple: -Were you... eavesdropping?- he asked amazed.

-Of course!– Fransiza replied after popping several kisses to Madeleine –We had to be sure that you wouldn't hurt her or Yannez!-

Arno cast an incredulous look at Briag, who silently admitted their spying.

-I'm so happy for all of you- Fransiza said, after finishing congratulating both of them. She wiped one eye, but then her tone took on a sadder note: -I guess you're going to live in Paris, right?-

Madeleine looked at Arno, who nodded. The Assassin approached Fransiza and gently took her hand to reassure her: -My “job” forces me to stay in Paris, but you can come and visit us whenever you want. It's the least, after all you've done for Madeleine- he proposed.

Fransiza sniffed at him and smiled, then patted the man's cheek: -You really are a good man. Madeleine was lucky to find someone like you.-

She then clapped her hands, as if to change the subject, and with a happier tone she turned to the couple: -Come on, come on! We have a wedding to organize!-

 

*****

Paris, February /Pluviôse  1798.

That winter it had snowed a lot, so much so that the snow that was removed from the streets and squares formed large piles on the sides of the roadway, to the delight of the little ones. Those who couldn't stand the cold, on the other hand, took advantage of it to frequent taverns or cafes to warm their limbs and eat something hot.

Arno had just finished his patrol tour. He had left at the crack of dawn and now, having endured the cold and eliminated a couple of Jacobins, he was carefully crossing the frozen rooftops to return to the Café Théâtre. His stomach complained loudly that he missed breakfast and all the Assassin wanted at that moment was a liter of hot coffee, perhaps accompanied by a chocolate brioche.

After a final turn the destination appeared before his tired eyes. Paying close attention, Arno dropped off a wall and landed in the street and then headed for the building that he now considered his home. As soon as he crossed the threshold he was hit by the aroma of coffee and the chatter of customers, already numerous at that hour of the morning. He saw that the counter was already occupied by other patrons, so he decided to have breakfast directly in the kitchen, so he would take advantage of the additional warmth of the fireplace.

He walked down the corridor that separated the main room from the kitchen and greeted the attendants who were preparing sweets to serve to the customers of the cafe. The waitresses and cooks returned the greeting, however Arno noticed a strange playful expression on their faces. He approached Babette and asked her if something had happened, but the cook signaled him to be quiet and then exclaimed aloud: -Geez, who knows where little Yannez has gone! She's really good at hiding!-

There was a muffled chuckle from under a table and Arno saw a pair of slippers just protrude from behind a tablecloth. Babette approached with caution, took a corner of the tablecloth and lifted it with a snap: -Here she is!-

Under the table appeared a two-year-old girl with thick auburn hair and two large dark eyes. She made a little verse of surprise and tried to run away, but Babette immediately caught her and held her in a hug, causing her to laugh with amusement.

-Did you see who's there, Yannez?- Babette said after having cuddled her. The little girl turned her head, following the cook's finger, and she widened her eyes as soon as she saw Arno.

-Papa!- she called happy, holding out her hands in the direction of the man. The Assassin, who was smiling so much that his face was starting to ache, took his daughter from the woman's arms and kissed her on the cheek.

-Good morning Yannez. Have you been good while I wasn’t here?- he asked, to which the girl replied in the affirmative. Still holding his daughter in his arms, Arno walked over to a tray of biscuits and ate a couple, waiting for coffee. At one point he noticed that Yannez was staring in fascination at the small chocolate chip pastries as if they were precious jewels.

-Can I bicqui?- she asked, trying to pronounce the words correctly. Arno turned towards Babette, silently asking her if she had already eaten some, and when he got the green light from the cook he asked the little girl a question: -What is the magic word?-

-Pwetty pease- replied Yannez. Arno broke the biscuit he had in his hand and gave a piece to the little girl, who ate it slowly to enjoy it at its best. The Assassin finished his breakfast and greeted the cooks, then left the kitchen with his daughter in his arms.

 

If he thought about how many things had changed in two years. Arno remembered a day at the beginning of Prairial, when he and Madeleine were finally married after so many adventures. They had celebrated the wedding in Brittany with few guests: the Jézéquel and some of their friends accompanied the bride, while Arno had managed to contact the friends of the “Band of the Baguettes” to get them to arrive in time for the ceremony. Few but good people, Fransiza had said, but it had been a special day for everyone all the same.

And after the last goodbyes to the Breton couple and the promise to write to each other, Arno and Madeleine had returned to Paris and the Café Théâtre. After the initial surprise of Madame Gouze, Célestine, Ophélie and the others, the newlyweds were warmly welcomed, but the thing that most surprised the staff of the Café was certainly Yannez. And after a few months of acquaintance, the little girl had become a sort of mascot among the attendants, who did their utmost to help Madeleine manage her work to allow her to be with her daughter as much as possible when Arno was busy in the duties of Master Assassin.

 

While remembering these events, Arno was stopped by one of the servant boys who informed him of the arrival of two visitors.

-They asked for you, monsieur. They have a particular accent, I don't think they're from here- the boy said before leaving. Arno had no doubts about the identity of the couple, since they had exchanged a few letters a couple of weeks earlier. He turned to Yannez, who was observing him with curiosity, and smiled at her: -Let's go say hello to the grandparents.-

The Assassin walked towards the intendant's study, where the guests had been accompanied, and saw that Briag and Fransiza had already been seated down.

Yannez let out a cheerful verse, which attracted the attention of the couple: -Gwanmma! Gwannpa!- she said as soon as she saw them.

Fransiza was the first to reach her and take her in her arms, instantly filling her with noisy kisses: -Happy birthday, my praline!- she exclaimed happily. She was joined by her husband, who was holding a package, and he too greeted the child, in a less expansive but equally affectionate way.

-Happy birthday, Yannez. This is your gift- the Breton said smiling, while he was holding out the package. While the little girl happily discovered new clothes for her doll, the Jézéquels greeted Arno and gave him another present for their acquired granddaughter's birthday: a whole kouign-amann made by Fransiza, a succulent cake made with puff pastry and generous amount of butter and sugar.

After having exchanged a few chats, the Bretons asked where Madeleine was and Arno replied that she was on duty in the tailor shop that day. He took his daughter by the hand, who was holding her gift in the other, and motioned to the Jézéquels to follow him inside the Café.

 

Madeleine was finishing sewing an embroidery when she was interrupted by one of the seamstresses, who informed her of some people who were looking for her. For a few seconds she remained lost in thought, then she remembered the last letter from Fransiza and Briag in which they announced their arrival in Paris. She fixed the dress she was working on and left her post to go to her guests, while a smile slowly appeared on her lips. It was time to share the good news with them.

She had just left the tailor's shop when she saw Arno next to the door, arrived at that moment. They said goodbye with a quick kiss on the lips and a hug, and despite the heat of the room, the young woman felt the last traces of cold on her husband's jacket.

-They are waiting for us upstairs- the man announced to his wife. Madeleine took him by the arm and together they walked up the stairs.

-How did it go this morning?- she asked.

Arno replied: -The usual things: various rogues, some Jacobins, lot of cold. Fortunately for today I have no other commitments.-

-Is Yannez with Briag and Fransiza?- she then asked.

The Assassin nodded: -They are playing with the new clothes Fransiza made for her doll. By the way, I hope you're a little hungry: they brought a Breton cake, I ate a slice and I think I won't touch any more food until tonight- he joked.

The two finally arrived in front of their private room, where the Jézéquel and Yannez were waiting for them, and entered: Fransiza was helping Yannez to put a hat on the doll's head, while Briag was holding the little girl on his lap.

When they heard the door open, the two Bretons looked up and saw Arno and Madeleine enter the room, but when they were about to say hello they suddenly stopped and a surprised expression appeared on their faces.

-Oh my, Madeleine! Why didn't you tell us?- the woman exclaimed in amazement.

Madeleine giggled and instinctively put a hand on her rounded abdomen, a sign of an ongoing pregnancy: -We wanted to surprise you. And I would say that we succeeded.-

Fransiza was the first to join her and congratulate the couple: -What good news! How many months is it now?-

-I think four- Arno replied.

-Oh, then they will be born in summer! Who knows if it will be a boy or a girl!- she commented enthusiastically.

Briag made Yannez get off his legs, who immediately ran to Arno to be picked up, and he too congratulated the two on the arrival of their second child.

 

While Fransiza told anecdotes about her motherhood, Madeleine found herself thinking about what turn her life had taken: from fearful servant of a noble who turned out to be a cruel manipulator, to a free woman with a family of her own. Finally she could be happy: she lived in a magnificent place with friendly people, alongside the man she loved and with whom she had built a family. Only a few years ago, if someone had predicted this turning point in her life, she would never have believed it; instead now she prayed and thanked every day the Breton saints and the ancient Irish gods, to whom her parents were so devoted, for having given her a life worthy and full of joy.