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Thrown to the Wind

By Amanda M. Cetas

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Chapter 1
Musketeers

The city was busier than usual and yet there was an uneasy expectancy, like when Papa and I were waiting for my sister to be born. Though at first, nothing looked amiss. Peasants in tattered trousers, rolled sleeves and wide-brimmed hats pushed or pulled carts loaded with crops to sell at market. Fishermen in woolen caps and vivid scarfs carried heaping baskets on their backs from their dinghies to the fish stalls. Servant women hurried from one market stand to the next, baskets brimming with produce and flowers for the fine houses.
What stood out were the numerous noblemen, like exotic peacocks in their brightly colored plumage fringed in lace and topped in feathered hats. These noblemen were all striding purposely toward the cathedral square where the cardinal in his crimson robes stood amidst Jesuit priests milling about like crows searching for crumbs.
The merchants clad in their somber breeches, jackets and capes, and unadorned hats stood in small groups outside their shop fronts talking in hushed tones and glancing uneasily at the collecting noblemen.
I could feel the unevenness of the cobblestones through my worn soles as I hurried on toward the harbor. One stocking had slipped down, but I dared not stop to fix it, for fear of being trampled by the activity in the square.
“Etienne! Watch where you’re going.”
I looked over my shoulder to see François glaring at me.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you.”
“You should be sorry prolé! You nearly splashed water onto my new shoes and stockings.”
My body tensed, and I took a steadying breath. What would he make me do now?
“Go on your way, I don’t have time for you today.”
That was all I needed to hear. I ran, continuing my circuitous path narrowly dodging a carriage pulled by four horses. François! He was acting strange today. To just let me go without having to grovel at his feet … something was definitely out-of-sorts today.
I listened for the sounds of the harbor — a few merchants bartering with their customers, while sailors and cavaliers told their tales of adventure, but all was still. It was oddly quiet for the number of people crowding around. Only the smell was the same, that of salt-water, stale fish, and sewage mingling in the breeze.
I was going to meet my cousin Nicolas. We looked like brothers with our mothers’ large blue eyes so incongruous with our dark, unruly manes. But Nicholas had a handsome face with broad shoulders and a muscular build. I looked like the awkward little brother, all gangly arms and legs with knobby joints. We were of similar height, though I was only nine; Nicolas was already ten.
He had left me a message, a simple blue ribbon tied to the railing of the garden gate between my house and our landlady’s. I knew it must be important. I found him standing by the low wall that skirted the harbor.
Nicolas wore deep blue breeches over white stockings, with a jacket to match and a wide white collar. His feathered hat was the same deep blue with a wide red band, matching the bows on his polished shoes. I suddenly became conscious of my own worn black breeches, dirty jacket and unpolished shoes.
Nicolas smiled and came to embrace me.
“Cousin, I’ve just heard that the king is sending musketeers here to La Rochelle. They’re supposed to arrive today. Everyone is gathering to see them!” Nicolas said.
Nicolas and I had often dreamed of becoming musketeers. They were the elite of the king’s soldiers, skilled with sword and musket, or so Nicolas had told me. I’d never seen one.
“Why are they coming here?”
“Father says they’re coming to ensure the peace. The cardinal will be making an announcement today on behalf of the king, and he does not want any trouble.”
My père had once told me that no good would ever come from a military presence in La Rochelle, but he was just an old man. After all, the siege had occurred before Papa was born. Grandfather still remembered it though and never stopped talking about it. The Catholic king, the father of our young King Louis XIV, had tried to prevent the Huguenots, like my grandpère, from worshipping in their way. So, the Huguenots rose up in rebellion. The king responded by blockading the city and starving us into submission. After fourteen months, eighty percent of the city’s population had died as casualties from fighting, or from plague or famine, including several of Papa’s older brothers.
“Look! They’re coming. We can see better from up here.”
Nicolas leaped onto the wall, and I struggled up after him. The wall was fairly low on the street side, but it was a steep drop on the other side to the docks below. My head began to spin, and I feared I might fall.
“There they are! Magnificent!” Nicolas grabbed my shoulder to steady me, and I looked to where he pointed.
A line of large feathered hats ascended the path from the pier. Slowly they came into view. They were magnificent. Their white ruffled shirts shone in contrast to their dark vests, breeches and knee-high, polished boots. White-gloved hands rested on sword handles, gleaming in the light, or supported the butts of muskets leaning against broad shoulders. How I wished I could see one up close. An uneasy hush fell on the crowds as the musketeers filed by us. Nicolas and I watched as they made their way down the street toward the cathedral. As the musketeers moved farther away, the noise of the harbor returned, though it was more subdued than usual.
I looked at Nicolas. I could see the excitement the musketeers brought in his eyes, but his mouth was grim.
“So, was it just the musketeers you wanted to tell me about, or is there more?” I asked, climbing down from the wall.
Nicolas led me away from the crowd along the edge of the pier past the Chain Tower. It was a large round, stone tower that contrast-ed the angular fortress guarding the opposite side of the mouth of the inner harbor. It got its name for the great chain that could be pulled across to prevent invasion. I supposed it was still there inside, though as far as I knew the Great Siege was the last time it had been drawn. We continued along towards the Lantern Tower, which served as both a lighthouse guarding the mouth of the larger, outer harbor and a prison for pirates and traitors. My cousin leaned in conspiratorially.
“I wanted to warn you. I overheard father talking to the bishop last night. Word has reached him that King Louis XIV is going to crack down on the Huguenot heresy.”
I thought of the stories grandpère told of the siege and shivered.
“If trouble does come, you can always find shelter with us,” Nicolas said.
“What of your father?”
“It’s true, my père would never openly support your family because of your father’s heresy. But my maman has always said that she would never turn away her sister, or her sister’s children. You would have to get rid of your Huguenot clothing, though, and wear some of mine, but you could easily pass as my brother.”
Nicolas stopped and looked at me seriously.
“You saw the numbers of musketeers and soldiers arriving. Why would the king need so many here, if he were not planning something?”
I stared at him mutely. It was true. And I did not want to follow Papa into the stove-making trade. It was hard labor, lifting the stones. I had helped Papa a few times before. I frowned as I remembered the blisters and aching muscles.
“Cousin, I know you want more than your father can ever give you. If you came to live with us, I know Papa … well, I know he would come around and let you stay. And he’d let you take fencing lessons with me. We could both train to become musketeers. Think of it! What fun! What adventures we would have!”
I nodded. I so wanted to become a musketeer. I wanted to be brave and strong like they were. I wanted to be respected and … I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. “Okay. If trouble comes, I will hide with you, until it is safe or, until your father accepts me.”
Nicolas clapped me on the back smiling, and, together, we headed back towards the square.
The crowds became thick as we approached the cathedral as everyone in La Rochelle it seemed had turned out to hear the cardinal’s announcement.
The cardinal stepped up onto a platform that had been placed there for him in front of the Grand Temple. The building had once been a Protestant church, but the Catholic Diocese of La Rochelle had taken it over after the siege in exchange for the Cathedral of St. Barthélémy, which the Huguenots had destroyed during the siege. They had used the cathedral’s bell tower as a gun tower to fend off the king’s soldiers, since it stood on the highest point in the city. But even the bell tower was gone now, destroyed by the invading Catholics. The repurposed Grand Temple now served as a constant reminder to those of us Protestants remaining in the city of the power of the king and his Catholic church, and of our failed stance against them. I supposed it was fitting that the cardinal would choose this place to make his announcement.
“Men and women of La Rochelle,” the cardinal began as the crowd fell silent. “King Louis XIV has asked me to announce that he seeks to have unity within his kingdom and within Christendom.”
I could hear murmuring from the merchants clustered around the edges of the assemblage.
“To this end,” the cardinal continued, “it is the King’s desire that the Huguenots within this city convert back to the True Faith. If they do so willingly, then no harm will come to them or to their families. Be it further understood that from this time forward, Protestant Huguenots will no long be allowed to serve in judicial and municipal positions. The courts which formerly held equal numbers of Protestant and Catholic magistrates will no longer do so. All Huguenot seats are to be abolished. Likewise, Protestant craftsmen will be denied the right to practice their trades. And Huguenot members of the Academy of Painting and Sculpture must recant of their heresies or resign their positions.”
I could feel the tension rising in the air. Apparently, the musketeers surrounding the cardinal’s dais could feel it too as they swung their muskets off of their shoulders in readiness to address any eminent threat.
“Furthermore, pastors are forbidden to perform their duties out-side of their place of residence. Protestant worship is also restricted to personal homes. Any Huguenot caught trying to convert anyone to the Protestant heresy will be arrested, as will any Catholic caught trying to convert.”
A heavy silence fell over the crowd as the cardinal turned, stepped down from the platform, and retreated up the steps of the converted cathedral. Nicolas put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. I nodded in response.
“Be safe,” he said. “Remember my offer.”
I nodded again, unable to speak and watched as he disappeared into the crowd.

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