The Faerie Blade

Chapter 2

La Musée du Louvre. The Louvre Museum. Or, as it is more simply known, just the Louvre.

I had hoped visiting Paris in the winter would minimise the endless crowds of tourists, but that was just not to be. People still flocked to places such as the Eiffel Tower, or the Cathedrale de Notre Dame de Paris. (Obviously, this means the Notre-Dame Cathedral - duh.)

Winter is the best time to visit Paris! Google had said. It will be refreshingly free of crowds, and you can experience the real ambience of the city! You can have the Louvre to yourself, and visit some of the city's other top tourist attractions, like the Eiffel Tower, without waiting in line!

Yeah, right. Thanks for that, Google. Now I knew why people say Google is unreliable.

The extremely famous museum was crowded even as I entered it. Tourists pushed each other out of the way, as each struggled to catch a view of the various artworks put up on display. Correction: tourists shoved each other out of the way, as each jostled and strained to catch a view of one particular art piece - the Mona Lisa.

I sighed unhappily. Even though I thought that all the hype about the Mona Lisa was overrated, Mum wanted a picture of me with the renowned painting, and I hated to disappoint her. From the back of the crowd, I could see people tiptoeing and craning their necks in order to catch a closer glimpse of the small framed painting, shoulder to shoulder in that throng of tourists. I wrinkled my nose and scowled. I refused to squeeze in amongst them; it just seemed undignified and desperate to me.

Well the whole trip to the Louvre was not entirely wasted though. The kind of person I was was the kind who could spend all day wandering around the museum reading and looking at stuff; whose families got so bored that they ditched them there for the remainder of the day and went shopping or bowling instead. I had thoroughly enjoyed perusing the various Renaissance, Victorian, Roman, Egyptian and Napoleon art, reading the multiple short descriptions and gaining a whole new perspective, and appreciation, of each item in the many galleries. I was nowhere near done with all the exhibitions, but for a first day at the Louvre, I was pretty satisfied.

Now, if only I could get a close up of the Mona Lisa, that would make my day, and my trip. (A happy Mum is a happy family.) But with this crowd, I wasn't going to get anywhere. I sighed again. Perhaps I would visit Café Richelieu in the Richelieu Wing first and grab a quick bite to eat and something warm to drink. The online travel guide had said that the Louvre's Café Richelieu was managed by Angelina, the historic salon de thé (tea salon) on Rue de Rivoli and that this Angelina was famous for its rich, dark, hot chocolate. Hopefully, I would find the same standard of quality here, and I loooooved hot chocolate.

Resolved in this course of action, I turned to head out of the room that held the Mona Lisa, when the painting at the back of the room caught my eye. I slowly ambled over, appreciating the vivid contrasting colours that were reminiscent of a cross between the starry night sky and rosy dawn. It was a feast for the eyes: midnight black, glowing gold, fine silver, rose pink, all were artistically laid out into a tapestry that depicted an armoured figure drawing a glowing sword from an altar. The figure was standing with feet shoulder length apart, and the armour he wore was a delicate overlapping of feather-like scales, seemingly crafted of moonlight and starlight, and accented with threads of sunlight. His head was bowed, and his shoulder length hair cascaded around his face, the purple blackness casting his face into shadow.

The Solar King, read the title of the artwork. What an apt description. There were no other details other than the title, but it was not necessary. The title said it all.

I glanced behind me. Despite the majesty of the painting framed before me, hardly anyone was paying attention to it, all focused on the Mona Lisa. I scowled and shook my head. What was a lady smiling compared to the grandeur of this new take on the Arthurian legend?

My eyes wandered back to The Solar King, as if it were a magnet and my gaze was an iron needle drawn inexorably to it. Something about this piece captured my attention, entranced me in a way no other artwork ever had before. It called to me, and the longer I stared at it, the more familiar it seemed to me.

I blinked. I had no idea how long I had stood down there, fascinated by this painting that seemed to reach into me and ensnare my soul. I backed away from it, intending to leave, but my gaze snagged on a detail that I had not noticed before. At the bottom left corner of the altar, stood a lark with a familiar sprig dotted with purple berries clutched in its beak.

My lark.