Tulips

Johanne 1

Johanne sat on the ground stroking her daughter's fair hair, thick sickness filled the room. Angelique had been ill with a terrible cough for the past week. She got up and walked outside, her husband and his friends sat outside. They were in a circle, foreheads creased. Their small shack was situated on the edge of a collection of similar buildings. Johanne sat down leaning back into the walls, the air was warm, bringing with it the smell of soil from the nearby farm where the men worked.

"We won't be able to last long if they reduce pay any further," one of the group said gruffly, his voice was like gravel.

"There's nothing Bonfills can do about it, if the palace won't pay more there's nothing he can do," Gidie, Johanne's husband said. The palace that lay a few miles West of the farm had recently started paying less and less for wheat. This meant the head of the farm had been forced to reduce wages, money had already been tight and now they were all quickly sinking.

"Stop saying it's the palace, it's that spoilt dauphin doing this to us not the building," Roul, Johanne's brother piped in, he twisted their father's pocketknife into the ground.

"All this for a wedding." another man said. "If they can't pay for it why are they having it," Two of Johanne's sons ran past giggling, in the midst of some elaborate game.

"Merging with Normandy will mean more money for the country," someone said.

"And they'll hoard it like usual," Gidie sneered.

"There's talk in the city," Roul looked up, a glint in his eyes.

Johanne brushed the sweat of her forehead, 'the hamlet beauty' people had proclaimed a few years earlier. Now age crept in the line of her face, although she was still in her twenties, she had been hardened by time. "Talk about what?" she said shuffling next to her husband and into the group.

"Revolution." he replied.

They all listened intently as Roul informed them of the group that was forming secretly in Paris, the talk of weapons fell freshly out of his mouth.