Duality
Prologue

Pays-de-la-Loire, France
September 1794

He could hear shouting.

In fact, there was too much shouting.

Most of them sounded very deep, like Jacques the Blacksmith's booming voice would sound when he and the other kids hovered too close to his smithy. But unlike Jacques' yells, which just caused him to laugh as he ran away, these made him want to cringe and melt into the ground.

But there was also something else.

Mingled in with the disturbing shouts were some high-pitched shrieks as well.

"Noel! Let him go, you bastard! Noel!"

Maman!

The small boy tried to turn his head to find his mother, but it wasn't easy when he was pinned so firmly to the ground.

"Maman," he cried weakly when his eyes managed to find her.

She sat on the grass reaching out to him, stretching her arms across a distance that even he knew was too far to cross. Her usually shiny curls were no longer neatly pinned up. Instead, they flew free, messy and caked with dirt, nothing like the sunshine color he had come to know.

He wanted to go to her. He wanted to run into the warmth of her arms and have her tell him that everything was going to be fine. But the haunted look on her face caused something in his chest to tighten, and he knew that his humble fantasy would always remain just that – a fantasy.

The sharp rocks dug viciously into his back, and the grainy soil scratched at his cheeks, but none of it affected him as much as the utter fear he saw in his mother's eyes.

"Maman," the boy said again, this time with more urgency.

No sooner had his quiet plea left his throat than a tall dirty man straddled her angrily and slapped her across the face. She fell onto her back with a dull thud. The man continued to sit on her, ripping her pretty blue dress and biting into her chest.

Noel felt his eyes blur.

His maman began to struggle, kicking and squirming so the man wouldn't eat her.

"Get off Maman!" he screamed, the blurriness not entirely blinding him.

But the big, ugly stranger didn't stop. He merely paused briefly to give her another slap and began yanking at her skirts.

Maman lay still for a moment after the hit but then she started wiggling again, shifting until her clear blue gaze met his wide one from across the garden.

Noel looked at her with a serious expression. His maman had said that he was a big boy now, and he would prove her right by not showing her how scared he was.

"Maman," he whispered quietly. "I'm a big boy and I'm not scared. See?"

He quickly blinked and got mad at his eyes for leaking tears.

Maman smiled.

Even with the bad man on top of her, even lying on the ground in only her chemise, she smiled.

"Be strong, my Noel," she said. "Be strong."

He couldn't hear her, not with so much noise about, but he saw her and he felt her. He couldn't have heard it any clearer if she had been right beside him.

"I will, Maman," he replied.

And then, he smiled too. It was a wavering smile, but it was a smile suited for a big boy of five years.

"Eh, what yer smilin' bout, boy?"

The coarse question was followed by a hard smack to the side of his face, and for a quick instant, Noel saw a flash of white. The force of the blow had sent his head lolling back to where it had been before he had sought out his maman.

"Pretty lil boy like you should pay attention to what I'm doing."

There was a man on top of him too. He was smaller and thinner than the one on Maman, but he looked just as dirty. Noel wondered absently if the other one smelled as bad as this one. If he breathed in too deeply, he was reminded of the time he'd accidentally fallen into old man Guy's pig pen.

"That's right. Let Uncle Jean show you what a real man does."

The smelly stranger licked him on the cheek, and Noel squeezed his eyes shut as he cringed from the sticky feeling left on his skin. He heard the shirt his maman had just recently mended for him rip from the man's hands, and felt the drawstring of his worn trousers break.

And yet, he made no sound. He had sworn to Maman that he would be strong and he refused to break that promise. Vise-like fingers gripped his wrists and raised them above his head. The cool autumn air tickled his bare chest and raised goose bumps along his arms.

Still, he remained silent, solemn and mature as he had promised.

He tilted his head up, up and over the greasy chunks of hair that dangled over him, up so that the pebbles poked angrily at his scalp, up until he caught a glimpse of the wide blue sky.

Up there, it was the color of Maman's pretty dress. It was the color of Maman's warm eyes. And it was also the color he last saw before he fell into darkness.

(***)

The smell of burning wood roused him. Or perhaps it was the nip of dusk that did it. Either way, Noel woke up slowly to blessed silence. Beneath him, on the hard ground, a few bugs crawled, scurrying their way around and over him probably to the comfort of their homes. He could feel them against his bare skin, tiny little legs grazing against his exposed self – fingers, hands, arms, back, legs ... toes. It was no wonder he was cold.

With the setting sun streaking the sky, leaving its reddish hues, the cool autumn night, so common in the valley, was almost upon him. Maman would have a fit if she saw him outside without a coat at this time of day.

But Maman had been in trouble.

Now fully alert, Noel realized that there were no longer any more shouts or screams echoing around him. In fact, a dead calm had surrounded him, not even a whisper to be heard. That must have meant that all the bad, smelly men had left, which was good because that would also mean he could finally go to Maman.

Rolling over onto his side, he tried to push himself up onto his feet. But what his brain wanted to do, his body didn't and he found himself falling again onto his back. A surprised whimper escaped his lips.

Why couldn't he get up?

True, he was sore. His wrists were sore, his legs were sore, even his rear was sore. But he had always been able to run about before when his muscles were tired, even that time when Guillaume, the boy from the neighboring house, had dared him to run all the way to the river and back in a span of half an hour.

Noel bit his lower lip in concentration, this time certain he'd get up and find Maman. He rolled onto his side again ... and failed.

And so, he tried again.

And again.

It was on his fifth attempt that he finally succeeded. With a triumphant smile, he stood up on wobbly legs and looked around, searching for Maman. He couldn't find her. With the gray shadows cast by the coming night, everything appeared like piles of black rubbish all around him.

He looked in the direction where he'd last seen Maman – across the garden by the house – but he found nothing. And it was then that he noticed: their house, their small cozy home, was no more. The remains sat smoldering, random specks of orange dancing like carefree fireflies on the charred beams of darkened wood.

Noel gasped at the sight and was rewarded with a small coughing fit when the smoky air crawled into his throat. Eyes watering, he bent down slightly and started to take short, shallow breaths through his nose. Once recovered, he straightened and took an unsteady step toward the house. And then, he took another. And another.

Before long, he stood beside what would have been the entrance to his home. The residual heat of the fire still flowed from the fallen building, and Noel wondered how long it had taken for everything to burn. He didn't want to think about it. He would ask Maman what they would do now that they didn't have a house, and she would have a good solution.

He drew his eyes away from the burnt remains of the only home he'd ever known and looked around. He was slowly adjusting now to the dim light, and making out shapes had become much easier. A slow glance to his right had told him that Guillaume's house had been burned too, as well as their wagon. He wondered where their horse had gone.

Wanting to see if Cheval was still around, Noel started walking. His feet took small unsure steps toward his neighbors' smoking house, his curiosity not enough to strengthen his legs or stride. But he only really made it halfway.

Perhaps it was because he'd been too focused on his destination. Or perhaps because it was getting darker with every passing minute, but he was not more than halfway there when he tripped on something soft and heavy.

He almost fell. With his unsteady legs, he was surprised he didn't. Somehow, he managed to catch himself and stay on his feet. Looking down, he tried to see what had gotten in his way. Yet, from where he was standing, he couldn't make out anything. He shuffled around the obstacle a little, and toed it until the last remaining streaks of pink and orange light hit it just right.

Père Robert.

He recognized the priest. The nice man had just taught him to write his name just last week.

But the prêtre wasn't moving. Not a tiny bit.

And suddenly, despite the fact that he was near naked and sore, Noel did not feel a single thing. Neither cold nor pain seemed to register with him as he became numb all over.

"Maman?" he cried, the fear and panic he'd kept at bay all this time quickly seeping into his voice. "Maman, where are you?"

He looked around, and back away from the priest, his breathing now becoming heavier. "Maman, I'm scared. Where are you?"

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, wanting to get out. And his throat burned. Whether it was from the smoke or something else, he didn't know. But what he did know was that he had to find Maman. And so, he searched, staggering around aimlessly and desperately, hoping to see the familiar figure of his mother.

He wasn't sure how he noticed it, but he did. He had thought it might have been the recognizable blue of her dress, but he highly doubted it since it was too dark to see color by then. Still, after what felt like an eternity of wandering and weaving around blurry lumps, he found her.

She laid part way between their destroyed house and the center of the village, as still and unmoving as Père Robert. She was almost as naked as himself, save for the ripped chemise that covered her left side. She was also covered in dark splotches, but he didn't know or care what they were. The most important thing was that he had found her, and he was safe.

"Maman," he whispered. "It's me, Noel."

She didn't respond.

Nevertheless, he smiled. Somewhere, deep down inside, he knew that she wouldn't.

He walked right up to her and sat down, suddenly feeling very exhausted.

"I'm tired, Maman," he stated as he yawned. "May I sleep here?"

Again, there was no answer.

But Noel didn't mind. Instead, he curled up beside her, and fell fast asleep.

End Prologue