The Ballard of the White Rose

Chapter 1 - Marie

1480 - South of England

According to most everyone, Marie Bellecourt was mad. If she was, then Marie found she didn't mind one bit. After all her reality, which she had been told time and again was not everyone else's reality, was far more interesting than theirs. Where others might see something dull and ordinary, Marie saw something fantastical. A tree might really be a girl with skin made of bark or a gargoyle on the side of the building might stretch out its wings and shake like a dog. All in all these bouts of madness caused her no negative impacts to her life other than the disapproval of others and that did very little to concern her. She was perfectly happy being mad and perfectly happy to be alone in her own world. It was everyone else who felt the need to fret over it, her parents most of all. Which was exactly how she had ended up in her current situation, astride a horse plodding through England far from her beloved France. Marie's parents were of a mind that the only solution was to marry her to a stranger three times her age as if marriage might somehow bestow her the gift of sanity. Marie was not so confident. On the other hand the alternative was a convent. 

Presently though she was quite content listening to the horses hooves clip-clopping against the ground. It soothed her whenever her anxiety threatened to swell. She leaned forward to get a better view of the country soon to be her new home. Although so far it wasn't so different from her old one. It was still full of the same kinds of trees and birds and there were flowers of an array of colours and there was green everywhere, some deep while others were almost luminescent in their youth.

The sound of a throat clearing came from beside her and Marie turned her attention to Agnes, her elder companion that her parents had assigned her for this voyage and the one currently blocking her view. Agnes was sat primly on her own horse to Marie's left and was motioning for her to sit up straight. Marie sighed and did so. Whatever small enjoyments she might find, Agnes seemed set on crushing them. 

Marie was not particularly fond of Agnes and the feeling was very mutual. Agnes disapproved of almost everything she did whether it was her solitary exploration of the surrounding forests near her home or the unladylike language she so often used or her inability to focus on anything that disinterested her. She was certain that Agnes delighted in reprimanding her and she made certain to do so at every possible opportunity never mind how small. What had really sowed the seeds of Agnes' animosity, had been her ill-fated attempt to teach Marie embroidery, a skill Agnes believed to be of paramount importance and which Marie had always detested learning. It wasn't so much that she she didn't want to learn in fact it was the opposite. She wished she could create something as beautiful as the pieces of art that her mother and sisters and even Agnes could create but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't seem to figure it out. Her last attempt with Agnes had ended with Marie screaming in frustration and throwing the blasted piece of cloth into the fireplace. There had been no further attempts. In all fairness to Agnes, Marie had to admit she hadn't exactly made things easy for her. She had made a habit of being late to her lessons and sometimes skipping them entirely as well as ignoring Agnes' almost constant instructions. Consequently this had made the past few months since their first meeting miserable for both of them.

Her disobedience wasn't really about antagonising Agnes though. Mostly she was afraid that if she followed all of her advise she'd end up exactly like so many married women, bound to a husband that she didn't love or even like and certainly hadn't chosen for herself. Forever. She shuddered at the thought. It wasn't exactly that she didn't want to be married at all but she wanted someone she actually loved (or at the very least tolerated, she could possibly settle for that). In fact she quite liked the idea of falling in love and it had certainly filled more than a few daydreams. Anyway it wasn't as if it mattered whether she wanted to ever be married or not after all what could she possibly do without a husband? How would she make a living without one? Was she allowed to own land on her own? What jobs was she allowed to do? She didn't even know! But despite all that she wanted something. She wasn't entirely sure what that something was but she knew that she wanted it more than anything so much so that if she thought about it for too long she began to feel an ache bloom in her chest as if something had bruised her heart. Still, it was a little bit about antagonising Agnes.