is the first chapter of a story written some ten years (already). It recounts the adventures of Kalliope, the character I was playing at that time in Dark Ages of Camelot, a role-playing online. The nickname stuck.
I-A new life I was born during a dark winter night. My father, a wealthy merchant in rare products, was traveling on business thinking that his wife, eight months pregnant, does not give birth before returning. Had he known he would never see the smile of his beloved wife, he would have stayed with her.
Every day after lunch, my mother had a habit of walking in the park adjacent to the family mansion. She wrapped himself in a heavy fur cape and lounging for an hour. Neither snow, nor wind cold yet this season, or even protests from the matron of the house could not dissuade her.
A particularly cold afternoon, when it began its customary walk, she slipped on an icy patch and fell on the floor pavement of the court. His howl of terror alerted the servants who rushed to help him recover. That's when the first contractions were felt. We took her back to her room, laid him on the bed while she writhed in pain, moaning. The steward took matters into their hands and sent a young lad to fetch the doctor urgently. Unfortunately, an epidemic decimated the area and arrived at midnight, too late. My mother had died giving birth to me, before even hear me cry ... my first push
When my father returned a few days later, he realized at first glance that a disaster had occurred during his absence. When he found the frozen body inert and the only woman he had loved to stand on the marriage bed, he wept in despair overnight. From that moment, nothing matters to him apart from his bank account and his social position.
Days passed, then months and years. Holding me responsible for the death of his "dear angel" as he called it, my father did not support my view. I was so high by a nurse in a remote part of the castle, so I never crosses my father. The brave woman, who can neither read nor write, took charge of my welfare, but not my statement. So I grew up, left to myself most of the time. Towards
13 years, I fugal full days to go in the next town, I knew the lower streets. I dressed in shabby old clothes of my son's nanny, and no sooner quitted the boundaries of the property, I maculas my cheeks and my hands to earth to make me unrecognizable. I went regularly to a street adjacent to the main avenue, a long thoroughfare shopping. There, a small amount discreetly wall, I could watch what was happening in the back shop of a herbalist.
This place was for me the cave of knowledge. Rows of old books lined the shelves of a large library on shelves at the back of the room, enthroned amounts of clear jars filled with various ingredients. A work table was loaded containers, stills, retorts and tools of all strange forms which the utility made me skeptical ... At dawn, the owner, an emaciated man with thin hair and bleached by age, isolated himself in this room to prepare for his potions. I looked, bustling right and left, crushing, chopping, mixing herbs and ingredients that I knew would appoint. I was fascinated.
This morning, I joined my observatory when the sun rose barely. The day before I had met my father when I went to the kitchen for my dinner. My heart leapt in my chest when she saw me, a big smile came over his face ... to disappear soon, like a mirage. I cried a harsh voice: "Out of my sight, demon! Is it to hurt me you like her?". I returned in my room, having left me an appetite. All night I had flooded my pillow with my tears and I cried again, crouched on my favorite perch. This is probably the fatigue that made me lose balance and fall on the floor. Attracted by the noise, the apothecary went out a back door that I had never noticed.
He leaned toward me and smiled.
- I was sure you'd end up hurting you, perched up there. Do not you think you'd be more comfortably installed inside?
- It hurts, sir, I replied, pointing to my ankle.
He took me into his shop and put me in a small chair. He looked after me while I told him my misfortunes. He asked me to help him in his work because his eyes were not as sharp as before. Of course, I accepted without hesitation. I started by cleaning and storing utensils. I took advantage of his presence to ask him any questions that went through my head, which he always answered simply. He appreciated my curiosity as he taught me the mysteries of reading, writing and especially plants. I devoured all the books in his library. These were the best times of my life ... My father
remembered when I reached my existing my 18 years. He decided to get married, or more exactly sell me, a penniless nobleman. He moved further away from a substantial dowry insurance cons to work alongside a world that only entry in a large family could offer him. He hoped to further increase the wealth accumulated in recent years.
My fiance had three times my age. It is alleged cruel and violent. His first wife died under mysterious circumstances and rumors accusing him of having murdered at one of his famous outbursts of rage.
I met him a few days before the ceremony and immediately hated it. I gauged a sufficient air and noticing my look surly, whispered: "I imagined a child erased and I find a young woman under fire." And he added with a predatory smile: "It will be a pleasure to rise like a stubborn filly!" A shiver of fear through my spine.
I thought my childhood was a nightmare, my wedding turned into hell! I will not dwell on the abuse that my husband made me endure. Me so proud, I learned quickly to bow his head before exceeding the limits of his patience. My main act of resistance was not to give him the heir he expected. I could not oppose that it owns my body, but I refused to carry her child. At each full moon, I was preparing a secret potion designed to make my stomach sterile until the next cycle.
regularly, my husband stayed in town and spent his money in the game I enjoyed those moments of calm to enjoy my silence in the library. There, by chance, I discovered a manuscript on the history of the family and the castle. Hidden in the binding, was a scroll that lists several secret passages including one from my room and leading outside. I promised to exploit this information and organizing my escape.
My plan in place, I passed the act. For more than a week, I changed my attitude to my husband drop his guard. I suggested to hint that our situation displeased me, and I longed for a truce. I had done gradually softer, more flirtatious. When he joined me in my room, I offered him the wine which he sipped while I was brushing my hair in front of my mirror. However wild his assaults remained to prove to me that he remained the master ...
Finally, sounded the hour of deliverance. As usual he was lying on the bed, a silver cup in hand. I watched her reflection in the mirror on my dresser. I could not stop a smile touching my lips when swallowed sips the poisoned wine that I had served. I had concocted for him a toxic mix that will stun many hours initially, then that would weaken enough for the bed rest a few weeks. This left me plenty of time to recover hidden cases in the secret passage and take to their heels.
I spent the herbalist to kiss my old friend and mentor. He offered me his horse, a gentle mare named Cinnamon live under, as a farewell gift, arguing that it was now too old to climb. I thanked him and left without looking back. I galloped up to the dawn of a new existence.
I decided to sleep on my background paper to empty my soul, like a doctor would remove the tainted blood of a sick body in a drain.
I was born a beautiful spring morning. I have a lifetime to love, laugh and sing. My name Kalliopi.
Hope
Prisoner of this, I suffered a thousand deaths
Linked to a husband torturing my body
Fearing each moment, the soul filled with terror
His outbursts of violence, causes of my misfortunes
The source of my tears never dried up
My heart is burning with an infinite hatred
For this cruel man in mind if perverse
That barbaric acts will lead to Hell
long time I waited and I prayed long
For Lady Fortune in his great goodness
Touched by my distress, attracted my penalty
gives me a chance to finally break my chains
Freed the past, avenged my husband
I'll be able to taste the pleasures of life
You who are suffering in silence, act, seize your chance
For at the end of the tunnel is Hope
Picture: "The wait " Sandrine Gestin - Oil on canvas - 61 x 38 cm (2002) Private Collection
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