Chapter 2 - Veil Over Paris
Just after matins, December 15th, 1001
Kingdom of the Franks, Paris, Île de la Cité, a large family home
Something had awoken her. Something outside? Without realizing when, or even how, she had risen from her cot, Gabrielle found herself descending the creaking, narrow, stair to the shop on the ground floor. The snores of her sisters, Elodie and Twila, faded with every step. Even in the dark her feet easily found each step and before her still sleep muddled brain registered what she was doing she stood before the barred door to the street. Her hand was already grasping the smooth handle, shoulder muscles bunching, preparing to lift the heavy, iron reinforced, oak bar. Her eyes blinked, staring at her hand holding the bar-handle.
Papa used this heavy bar for a reason. It was there to keep people out of the shop at night. There were too many poor folk in this city who might be tempted to enter and steal the valuable ores, refined metals, and jewelry inside, if it were not there. What if there was a brigand or two standing outside seeking entry? They would be delighted to have the door opened for them. Shaking her head to clear the remnants of sleep, she took control of her own body, and forced herself to stillness.
A soft whisper of breath exhaled through her nose was the only sound the young woman made as she listened for any indication of what might have woken her up. Desperately trying to hear some sound outside of herself she leaned against the door, ears straining, only to be drowned out by the strangely staccato rhythm of her own heartbeat. It was then that she saw a greenish-blue light emanating from under the doorway.
The moon was only days from new. When she'd gone to bed,
the sky had been filled with clouds. It should be pitch black outside. There shouldn't even be starlight out there. Yet the longer she stood there the brighter the light became. The pounding of her heart faltered, and a chill raced across her skin, when she noticed a fine mist rising from the floor underneath the doorway. There was no sound but, despite her rising fear, she felt a deep curiosity, almost a need, to see what was happening outside.
Two voices inside her head argued for different things. The cautious one said it was madness to open that door with no one else there to know what she was doing. It was the other, curious voice, that appealed to her. It counseled against the cowardice of timidity. The desire to know, filled her. She needed to know what was going on. Besides, if she went upstairs to Papa, he would only see a silly girl asking for him to open the door for her in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. It would be embarrassing. Finally her desire to know what was out there overrode her caution. With a trembling hand she lifted the bar and rotated it into its unlocked position. Taking a deep breath, Gabrielle opened the door.
"Oh!" she gasped, momentarily stunned by what she saw. Tingles of fright prickled her skin, causing the fine hair on her arms to raise up on the tips of goose-bumps to weave into the fabric of her heavy woolen night dress. Instinctively she grasped the silver crucifix she wore around her neck. "Oh, Blessed Virgin."
Again, Gabrielle felt the influence of two different voices arguing inside her head. One, the child curious with wonder, told her to step further outside, to explore what she saw. The other, an adult voice, counseled against such foolishness. In fact, it screamed at her to slam the door and run, to hide somewhere deep inside the house. Instead, she stood stock still, frozen with indecision and awe.
Outside, the world was cloaked in a blanket of mist. Growing up a stone’s throw from la Seine, she had experienced more than enough fog in her life, but this fog was more dense than any she had ever seen. It was so thick that she could barely see the building two doors down the street. Even that, was not what frightened her though.
Within the general haze were even thicker tendrils of fog that somehow were separate from the mass of shrouding mist. The tendrils writhed like worms in the jar that Papa took with him to go fishing.
Yet most terrifying of all were the lights. Along the writhing tendrils of fog were countless orbs of greenish-blue light. They meandered along the lengths of thick brume as if they were ants raiding the pantry. Each individual orb grew brighter, and then dimmer with every few heartbeats, creating a cacophony of pulsing illumination.
Trembling hands rose up to cover her open mouth. Her back was tight, body rigid. Breath came in wheezing gasps. Finally she pulled in a lungful of air, chest straining against the dark wool of her dress. Only at the last moment did she stop herself from letting out a full-throated scream. If she gave in to her fear she might never stop. Papa! Mama! She had to wake them!
Her mouth snapped shut. A strangled whimper escaped her lips and she finally turned to scamper back into the house, closing the door, and letting the bar slam down behind. She took the first two steps on the stairwell in one bound, gathering her breath to call out, when she heard Papa’s gruff voice from above.
"Who is there?" He said. She heard the scrape of his heavy club that he kept by the door.
"Just me, Papa," she replied quickly. Her father, Abram Lefevre, was strong and she had no desire to find out how hard he could hit with that thing first hand. "Something is happening outside. I'm scared."
"What do you mean something is happening?" His wide frame eased through the bedroom door and descended the stair as he spoke. "How do you know what's going on outside?” He stopped for a moment at her hesitation. “You didn't open the door did you?” A heavy sigh accented by a rumble of exasperation emanated from his chest, before he continued down the stairs. “By God, Gabrielle Madelaine, I didn’t think you would be one I had to tell why that bar is in place."
She fidgeted, unable to answer his question, sure that he’d seen it written plainly on her face, even in the darkness. Papa set the cudgel upon his shoulder and gently pushed her aside, stepping between her and the door. Gabrielle was too distraught, too fearful of what she'd seen, to protest. And yet her father’s mere presence calmed her fears, allowing her to breath more evenly. He visibly relaxed at the sight of the door shut and barred. A gentle squeeze from his meaty hand upon her shoulder gave her further reassurance. Papa would know what it was. He would know what to do.
"There are lights Papa," she said after taking a breath. "And heavier fog than I've ever seen. Lights floating in the fog."
"Nonsense," he snapped. "It's too cold for heavy fog right now."
Even as he spoke she could see his eyes flicking back and forth, his brows furrowed in thought. He stepped up before the door and gave her a look of chagrin as he clapped his hand over a knob. He shoved it to the side, opening an iron shuttered portal to the outside.
Gabrielle blushed with mild shame. She had forgotten the window was there, and that there had been no need to open the door in the middle of the night.
Papa frowned more deeply. The light emanating through the slot illuminated his face, drawing his eye. He bent his neck to look, and gasped in shock. He stood there completely still for a short while, eyes twitching back and forth, before stepping away.
"What in God's good name is all of that out there?" He gasped.
His face had gone slack, jaw dropped open. Her fear instantly returned greater than before. Her unflappable Papa was scared too. If he didn't know what it was, or what it meant, who would?
"What is going on down there?" Her mother hissed from upstairs. "Can't whatever it is wait until morning?"
"What do we tell your mother?" Papa gasped.
"I don't know!" her words snapped, foot stamping on the floor. "You’re supposed to know what to do!"
Papa cleared his throat, hand rubbing the back of his neck.
“I’m not sure Elenor,” Papa replied with a low voice, setting his club against the door. “I... I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“What…? Never…? Augh!”
Steady footsteps approached down the staircase. Gabrielle exchanged glances with her father, knowing that the unease painted on his face was reflected in hers. When Elenor Lefevre reached the bottom Gabrielle could see plainly what she‘d already guessed.
Mama was irritated. Her pretty features were creased with frowns. Golden red hair, normally very well brushed and arranged, stood out in all directions. She stalked across the floor toward them. Her glittering green eyes drilled into them both for a few moments, but then lost focus and drifted past.
Papa stepped aside, and Gabrielle did the same after a brief hesitation. Being the tallest member of the family present, Mama had to lean down to look through slot in the door. Gabrielle watched, and waited, to see what the formidable matron of the family would say.
“What?” Mama erupted, stepping back and pointing. Her face was slack, lips pressed together, jaw visibly clenched. ”What is it?”
“I don’t know my dearest,” Abram said stepping in and enfolding his tall, lithe, wife in his burly arms. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like this before.”
Gabrielle timidly stepped up beside them. Seeing her parents visibly worried set her own fears even higher. She desperately wanted to ask her father to include her in his comforting embrace. But she wanted to be treated as an adult now and felt she should be able to stand on her own. Another hesitant step took her as close to them as she thought she could get away with. She gazed out through the slot.
Abram and Elenor glanced at thier daughter, looked at each other, worried expressions softening, before opening their arms and pulling her into their embrace. The family stood together, fearfully staring through the door slot for some time. Eventually they began to hear new, and strange, noises, increasing their fear.
It was the sight of creatures they’d never seen before, and men fighting, and dying, right in front of them, that sent Papa into the back of the shop forming plans for their future.