General Stories that happen at the Farmstead Military Out Post

The farmstead: Home to @Exquisite_Wren and @Musketeer_Athos

Currently being run as a military outpost in protection of lands against the Spanish aggressor.

Manned by @Athos_Son and @Rescued_Prince and a small troop of young trainee Musketeers

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Marie replies to Rene’s outrage at her temerity to critise him

Written by @ MmeDeChevreuse

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NOT IMPRESSED!

Aunt Marie’s attack leaves me gobsmacked. Our surroundings seem to close in around me. Overwhelming my usual self importance, hearing and now witnessing the boldness of her agitations. How another can judge me so? And so bluntly? How can she speak to me in such a way? Why bring my mother into this?  

That’s my mother!  

I’m the first born and no one can take that away from me! 

The air is thick and her stance leaves me no choice but to respond. In doing so, my adolescent jaw tightens as my palms being to perspire. I can actually feel my pupils dilate, before seething anger transcends down to the veins in my forearms, pulsing with fury. Tempers flaring could provoke a volcanic eruption. However, the distant, soothing voice of my mother’s calling proves a calming effect and the sweat upon my angered brow chills as I stare back into the wrath of my beloved Aunt features. 

Let us hope no objects are thrown! And what a bitch! 

Each breath seemingly like minutes, that transgresses into hours as I expand my chest, breathing out long as to think rationally before words are angrily exchanged. I lean side on, splaying digits onto a bookshelf that contains mother’s treasured literature. This gives me strength to convey what I need to assert her when standing face to face, here and now with Aunt Marie. Her breathing more shallow and dissipates between the space between us. Phew.. 

I am now calm.. 

“Aunt Marie, you must understand that my brother takes his military duties to heart”

Shrugging broad shoulders, displaying a nonchalance to distract my inner anguish 

“You and I both know that and so does mother. I’m not about to bow down to a younger sibling either. Even if it were my only brother”

Leaves where I stood to change my position and fold at my toned arms, smirking as I engage eyes with her to observe her every movement. 

“Now about my tardiness and lack of enthusiasm, when it comes to allocated tasks around the household, I take after father. Nobody complains about him and simply picks up after him. I can’t help it that I’m like him! He’s my father!

Offering an arrogant smile, proud of resembling my father in so many ways as I unfold the power of my arms 

“And what would you and mother do if there was no work to attend to? You’d both be bored out of your minds. So think of my…unwillingness to contribute at times…a blessing. Besides, mother doesn’t mind picking up after me. She’s always smiling and trailing after me, picking up at my discarded clothing. If she was annoyed about it, she’d soon complain. But mother doesn’t and she loves me as her eldest. I know it”

Reaching to pour Aunt Marie some wine, but stepping back to my mark in case the brimming goblet should be thrown directly at me.  

“If you have any further complaint, I suggest you speak to mother directly and not me. After all, you’re an adult…aren’t you…and can handle yourself appropriately in her presence?

Holding up my goblet, pointing an authoritative finger from the curve held within my grasp 

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate your concerns, Aunt Marie..”

Sips my wine once, keeping a watchful eye on what could be further confrontation in the form of a head on charge with a slap to my face!  

Written by @Rescued_Prince

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Marie’s noctural mission

Written by @MmeDeChevreuse

Marie worries about her family as news from the south is hard to come by

Written by @MmeDeChevreuse

Marie’s escape

Written by @MmeDeChevreuse

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Marie tackles Rene

Written by @MmeDeChevreuse

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Return home to me safe and well

Sudden loneliness stems like an offshoot and constricts at my heart, standing here alone as I watch him through the morning’s icy mist and a cloud of consuming dust that carries him away from me.

I struggle to focus, pulling my shawl around me tighter to keep the cold from my trembling form. Tears burn through the sadness that envelops me and floods sight as I sob gently and whisper my goodbye to my love and husband. The sun not yet peering down at me as half light brings no comfort. No understanding or sympathy is conveyed by natures daunting, morning overlay. The farmyard animals now seemingly in mourning and remain silent as they overhear the forsaken sobs of my own. Sobbing that does not bring me to my knees, but shatter me to pieces inside or would I share in the presence of others. Each deployment never comes easy and it is always a battle to let him go. I love him truly and this he knows.

The life of a soldiers wife is full of obstacles, particularly when it comes to the children whose needs must come first. I for one am not fond of disruption in the family home as I have had my fair share of hurdles since declaring my longing for him. Awaiting the day a letter of notice comes, or counting down the days when he shall return home. But then, sometimes we will never know as war can linger on for years without a wife ever knowing the return of her husband’s homecoming. Each time he does return home, it is as if he’s returned from the grave. Slumber is never solace as my mind impedes with worry for his safety and return. My arms ache for embrace and my lips yearn for his tender caress. And nightfall never lets me truly rest. Sadness comes with no prejudice. But I must make great efforts and go on for the sake of our sons. Their legacy is what does unveil a smile on his brooding features, when all can be lost.

Padding quietly back to the house as not to disturb my sons and Marie, I pass the harvest of apple trees that embellishes our mix of florets that often brings the sweet scent trailing in through the windows of our home on a despondent day. Ceasing in my tracks as the rustle in the fruit, filled trees allows the fall and then thud of two well formed fruits to the rich earth beneath its branches. Crisp and ripe, Caville blanc d’Hiver flesh rolls and touches at the toes of my slippers. The almost perfect produce seemingly stares up at me as I peer down at its splendorous structure. Unnestling my arms from my sorrowful body, sweeping aside the stringy frills of my shawl, I bend down carefully to retrieve the demanding ovaries of fruit and hold them up to observe them closer at arms length.

Recalling the delightful benefits of Marie’s delicious apple desserts the night before. These fruits a reminder of what to look forward to. Hope? Perhaps today we should go on to maintain our occasional indulgences, even while his presence is sorely missed? From that moment on, whenever I feel the urge to break down and cry for his absences, his tenderness or perhaps that scowl I so dearly yearn for. My vow is to place an apple pie upon the window sill to cool, while it’s baked aroma inundates the air. Perhaps then will he return home to his loved ones and family, following its heavenly trail that will lead him home to us. And then my heart and mind would surely rest.

“Return home to us, my beloved. Return home safe and well”

Written by @Exquisite_Wren

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And will there be apple pie for dinner again?

As the early dawn sun splinters the night away the warm smell of Marie’s @mmedechevreuse apple pie still permeates the air with its homely comfort and security it represents. With the remaining household asleep I lead my horse across the yard and look back to Ninon and meet her sorrowful glazed eyes. No words are necessary as locked in an empathetic understanding of the impending horrors, we silently murmur our ominous goodbyes.

Looking back at the house and then the barn my thoughts run to the boys. Something good to leave behind.  My proud legacy to the future.

I muscle a small smile which doesn’t reach my emotionless eyes as I throw my bags over the saddle and prepare to mount. Stalwart and strong in body, my muscular form stands masculine proud within this desolate scene; a heady sense of testosterone charged inner spirit, the true face of a nobility’s mettle and bravery.

With a firm nod of the head and a quick search of the eyes for the boys I mount my horse, creaking weather worn leather against age cracked hide as now seated I pull at the reins and circle the dry farm yard for a final look.

In that dusty cloud the chickens cluck sounds of discontentment disturbed too early from their roost, and flutter around disgruntled by the half built guard house while that smell of baked apple pie snakes it wafting domestic wholesomeness permanently into my mind.

With a final glance towards Ninon I spur my horse and kick up the dust and head off to war… wondering will there be apple pie for dinner again for me?

Written by @Musketeer_Athos

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Lack of sleep

“My days feel as though they are numbered. He wants to kill me with sleep….DEPRIVATION.

“A part of his soldiering antics…I suppose. Only I’m not the enemy….so why torture ME”

The morning sun strikes into my bedroom with force, brutally disturbing my existence between the parting in the curtains that my brother intentionally left open…

.. “I’m going to strangle that little bastard…once I get hold of him! My army senior or NOT”

Tired and hungry, disorientated and hardly awake, I lazily drag my limbs from the chaos of my bed. The sheets in an uproar and tangled around my toned thighs, and twisted around my ankles as I flounder from their twist, then hit the floor boards with a slap! Barely able to keep my balance, youthful features stinging from the smarting of my mishaps. I throw on a shirt and pull up on my breeches. My muddied boots that I left tossed in the corner of the room, now polished and standing upright. Shaking my head as I make out the arrangement..

.. “That little shit has got problems”

Noting their appearance as I make out the doorway, holding at the side of my swelling cheek. Barefoot and idling as I glance around the room for socks with furrowed brows. I manage to find a stiff pair that I could use to bowl him over with and shove each foot down into them in turn.

“No one will notice the stench once I’ve got my boots on..”

Shrugging spritely shoulders with nonchalance as I clump from our room and down the corridor. Mother appears to be in happier spirits, though less talkative as I spy father’s jacket hanging on the hat stand nearest to the front door. Which could only mean one thing. Back to enemy lines for him. Pressing forward toward mother, I sneak in a swift morning greeting to her cheek with a brief kiss. The waft of mother’s delicious baking of this morning’s breakfast I hope will overpower the vapour my deathly, reeking socks hold.

“Morning, mother. You are looking as beautiful as ever today. Where is your pride and joy”

Grabbing at a warm pastry, freshly made by mother’s loving hands and I bite into the filling. My mouth full and I turn to mother, chewing at the hearty texture, awaiting her reply without the decency of covering my mouth.

“So how did your debriefing go with father? You know…I really ought to just burn that bloody diary of Raoul’s” waving a fist with my empty hand “Every opportunity he gets he’s there…scribbling down onto the pages and checking over his shoulder constantly to see if anyone is looking” shoving the remainder of the fruity pastry into my mouth and tries to scowl like father.

“I will burn that diary, mother”

She pivots in her heels with finesse, her dress flowing as if it were caught up in a summers breeze and placates my defiance with one of her smiles.

“Rene, my darling son. You will do no such thing as he has his orders. And besides, your father

is home with us…for the moment, at least”

Her earnest tone and pacifying smile eases my annoyance, when she places down a mug onto the table for me. Swiping at the hot beverage, I down the fondly made, steaming substance and thank her with one of my endearing grins. Mother can do no wrong in my eyes, without her…where would I be in this world?

“Oh and Rene. I do hope you found the small basket of freshly folded socks at the end of your bed”

Showing signs of guilt, I hastily tidy my area of the kitchen table top without replying to mother and simply nod my answer. Her smile is one of that of knowing and dismisses her questioning by tapping at my damp digits from the cloth’s moistness.

“I must get going, mother. I have much to do”

Our morning encounter ends as I nod at her from the back door and head outside into the unknown of our farmyard. I say unknown as I will never know what is installed for me as Raoul can be funny one and have either eggs lined up or plucking up at chicken droppings with a pair of pincers. As I have said…he’s got problems!

Lumbering across the yard, pulling at the straps across my shirt, I find him eyeing off a pile of wood. Looking around, I ascertain that Marc’s whereabouts is nowhere to be found. Sharply glancing back to Raoul. What the hell is Raoul thinking now? ..Surely it’s not to use on those hens I’m fond of…bloody hell! Before reaching the lad, I stand back and observe him as he paces around the pile of wood. My thoughts are to run off to tell father at once. But perhaps a dose of morning cheek wouldn’t do any harm either…

“This is going to be good..” I grin and cross the yard to him, full of contempt.

Lack of sleep – Written by @Rescued_Prince

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Athos’ Post Debriefing to Raoul

 

With a warmth of heart and post-coital mellow I seek out Raoul to discuss his management of the farm out post. Still leisurely tucking my shirt back into my breeches I see his expectant face, bright eyed and full of innocent wonderment. I feel unnerved wondering if he knows of my true purpose with his mother but preferring as always to duck the issue of adult relationships.

“Raoul…” I call him over, “we must talk about your role here.”

He strides over in his maturing manner, no longer the gangly boy who run away from home, but a young man with well-honed features. His mother must be both proud at his physical maturation and worried to see her child develop into this strapping youth.

“Raoul I am pleased you have taken your responsibilities seriously but you need to learn some diplomacy.”

I almost smirk at the use of the word, tact not always being my forte. But I continue as he looks up a little concerned that this is about to be turned into chastisement for the accusation of espionage. But still mellow from my encounter with Ninon I continue with more diplomacy than normal.

“In times of troubles, when the armies of France work to provide security for all it is imperative we work with the civilians we seek to protect and not against them.”

I see his head start to drop, my son a rare book but so easily read… given time,

“And while you were right to secure adequate lodgings for the new recruit it should not have been at the expense of those who seek to help us. We are all soldiers and must endure certain hardships. We have an adequately sized barn that can be utilised.”

His eyes light up as he interrupts me speaking excitedly.

“Yes, Father, I mean sir, and that is where I have been sleeping. I should have thought of that in the first place as you can hear everything out there…”

His beaming face and twinkling eyes a pleasure to see. A wave of pride sweeps over me.

“Good, a lesson learnt then!”

I go to sit down, fatigued from the journey and exertion of the marital kind now taking its toll. I proffer an arm for him to sit too as we continue our talk. Keeping his eyes on me and listening with intent he too sits but with an acute alertness.

“Now as to reporting your mother as a spy…” I pause, “you do realise you could have done her irreparable damage and even seen her executed”

The glow from his eyes fades and his chin lowers towards that developing muscular chest.

“You cannot accuse people of treasonable acts without proof…any one…and furthermore…she’s your mother. She’d lay down her life for you. Do you know how much this has hurt her…the orders the accusations? Raoul, for goodness sake, being a good Musketeer and being a good son should not be a conflict.”

Then rather sharply I add,

“You will apologise to her at once and treat her with more respect. Do you understand?”

The young man reverts back to boy.

“Yes sir,” his words muffled into his chin resting on his chest with eyes down cast.”

With tiredness and frustration now over taking hold of me me and I revert to coldly giving orders. My fatherly talk with its diplomacy and tact too difficult for my weary mind with this sullen son of mine.

“Right, military orders are as follows” I stand for this, my physical frame domineering the crestfallen young musketeer.

“You will ensure the barn is suitable for a further two more new recruits being sent from Paris. Both are about your age. You, however, will move back into the house and share your room again with Rene. I will not have your mother and Aunt Marie subjected to strange young men in the house. However, should any of the troop be injured, then your room is to be used as an infirmary”

Raoul shoots up a look of defiance.

“I’d rather sleep with the recruits in the barn, sir, and leave Rene in the house. Can’t get him out of bed anyway…and if the recruits are to trust me why should I get preferential treatment. Sir…I cannot accept a bed while they are in the barn”

I glare at his defiance, yet see in him a seed of something special. Someone who would not ask of anyone something he wouldn’t do himself. I pause for a while and try to stare out this defiance before giving a curt acceptance with a nod. I continue with my orders.

“Your troop will build a guard house near the entrance to the farm and keep your weaponry based there, but I’m afraid your request for a cannon has been denied. Furthermore, you will work out a rota of training and for civilian liaison. It is important you work with the civilians in the village” I cock my head to check his understanding.

“You don’t have to do everything yourself, delegate and use Rene, he’s good with people and he’s good with a musket”

I feel Raoul’s glare at the hidden praise for Rene, and hastily add,

“But you, like me, are a master of the sword. I want you to lead on sword training. Remember you can’t do everything yourself, so let Rene help you.”   My harshness softens as I impart more words of advice.

“Raoul…use him; don’t fight him!”

Now looking over my son again a warmth of pride threatens to overwhelm me. He is so young, but yet there is in him an intensity beyond his years. I swallow as I think that should I not return from the war then both Ninon and Marie will be safe, or are safe as I can make them under the protection of the two sons I love so much. Now as emotions start to surface I offer Raoul a formal handshake.

“I know you can do this Raoul I have faith in you”

He looks disappointedly at the hand before standing and shaking it.

“Yes, I can do this sir and I won’t disappoint you again”

As Raoul dejectedly walks away the word “disappoint” rings in my ears and calling out as he reaches the door…

“You’ve never been a disappointment to me …”

But he’s gone.

Written by @Musketeer_Athos