The Silk Weaver's Daughter (3 page)

PART II

Choices

“Men at some time are masters of their fates; the fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves…”
William Shakespeare

Chapter 4

P
ierre sat, head in hands, at his desk in the silent silk manufactory. Most days the room was noisy with the clickity-clack of the looms. As well as his older sons, four young boys from the area served as his apprentices. He kept them all very busy.

However, today was Sunday and, as a strong Calvinist, he allowed no work done on the Sabbath. Instead, he spent part of the morning walking around his productive farm, wistfully surveying all he had created over the past twenty years.

Jean Calvin’s philosophy appealed to Pierre’s sensitive spirit. By nature a pacifist, he wanted to live his life quietly, creating beauty in both his surroundings and the astonishing tapestries and silken materials his small manufactory produced.

Embedded deep within his heart was the teaching of predestination. It went against this viewpoint to imagine the political climate of the country could change so quickly by the whims of the king, unless it was God‘s will. But why God wished such a thing, puzzled him.

The idea that they would be forced to leave France, and everything he had laboured for, filled him with a heavy depression. Still not sure what he should do, he deliberated his dilemma, considering his options. So many questions ran through his mind. Was this in fact God’s purpose for his family—to leave everything behind? How bad would it be just to sign a meaningless paper? He could pretend to become a Catholic. Whom would it hurt?

It would be a lie, of course. To lie was a major sin, punishable by the fires of hell. And Pierre believed with certainty that his destiny was heaven. No. No, he mused. It is impossible. Not even to save my inheritance can I tell such a lie. We must go. There is no other choice for us.

It was not quite a week since his cousin’s visit that brought the dreadful news of the death of their uncle. The following morning, after Pierre told his family, a pall had settled over the gathering. As soon as the bundles of silk intended for London were loaded on the wagons, their guests left for La Rochelle.

Now, an unexpected sound in the courtyard alerted him to the arrival of a horse and rider. He looked out the window and saw Jacques dismounting. After their serious conversation, he had anticipated his cousin’s return with more news of the impending trouble, although not this soon. Pierre’s heart sank as he viewed his relative’s face. Once more, his usually cheerful countenance appeared gloomy.

“You’re here early in the day, Jacques. How far have you come?” he queried, as he hurried out to the courtyard.

“About fifteen miles—from my friends in Sugères. I stayed overnight there since I wanted to get here as fast as I could.” Jacques tethered his horse near a grassy patch and strode towards the door.

“Well, you must have some refreshment. Claudine has brought out wine and cheese for me. Come, sit at the desk.”

“I think what Pharos and I need most is some water. I’ve been riding him rather hard. But yes, I could use some food as well.”

After both man and beast had quenched their thirst and the horse fed some oats, Pierre ushered his cousin into the workshop where a small luncheon was set on the outsized worktable. Jacques sat down and took some bread and a piece of cheese along with a goblet of the
pineau.

“Now, Jacques, tell me, what news do you bring?” Pierre asked him when they had eaten a little. “You look sorely troubled. It is bad then?”

“Yes, I’m afraid it’s even worse than we feared. The dragoons, by King Louis’ order, have already moved into some of our friend’s homes around La Rochelle. They do whatever they please and the owners have no recourse. They must put them up in beds and feed them. There are already some bands of soldiers headed inland. I’m worried it won’t be long until they reach this area.”

“Maudit.
What fiends they are. Then we’ll have to leave. I can’t give up the faith of my ancestors. For over one hundred years, our family followed the teachings of Jean Calvin. Where should we go? How much time would you say we have?”

“Pierre, you are not only my cousin, you are my dearest friend. I hoped someday Marc and Louise would make us truly brothers. I must tell you— although I’m sure you are aware—I’ve never been as inclined to religious conviction as you.”

He faltered, as if trying to collect his thoughts, which Pierre found strange. Jacques was never at a loss for words. “This is difficult to say to you,” he continued, “I—that is, my family—we won’t be going with you. Right now, France offers me everything I’ve wanted in life. I’m much too involved with the trading company to leave, and I’ve worked too long and hard to get this far. I can’t give up my position with this government for an ideal—at least one I don’t accept in every respect.”

Appalled, Pierre opened his mouth to speak. It was almost a gasp.

“No. No.” Jacques put up his hand. “Hear me out. I’ve never told you this before. Marie and I made our choice a few years back. We both agreed to renounce Calvinism and convert to the Catholic Church. You understand, it was the only way for my sons to go to the university in Paris. We do it without sincerity, of course. No matter, I have no regrets. Now it saves the lives of my family. For all of them, I do this thing.”

“Jacques, Jacques, no.” Pierre cried in anguish. “I can’t believe it. Are you certain of this? Yes, it saves you now; but it may mean your eternal life. Jean Calvin has shown us the Way. Have you gone back on your vow to serve God in truth?”

“That’s the other thing, Pierre, I’m not sure the Way of Calvin
is
the absolute Way of Truth. He would have us believe all things are predestined—that we do nothing of our own accord—that some are predestined to be evil and others to be good.
This
idea—to be condemned to a burning hell with no choice in the matter—no, no, Pierre, this I cannot accept.”

“The priests also teach hellfire.”

“Yes, they do, although at least they give you the chance of repentance. I wouldn’t condemn a mad dog to such a fate, and to be predestined to it— you think a loving Creator would do so? Calvin’s teaching offers no chance of redemption. Even Grandfather had trouble with this doctrine.”

“But—our destiny—we can’t change it. It’s all foreordained.”

“I don’t believe so, Pierre. Have you read anything of Shakespeare?”

“Of course not. You know my knowledge of English is limited. What does he have to do with this?”

“He writes an interesting speech in a play about Julius Caesar. Makes one think. Caesar says to Brutus, the man who betrays him, ‘Men at some time are masters of their fates; the fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves…”

“And what does that mean, dear cousin?” Pierre asked, with some sarcasm.

“Shakespeare is saying that, for the most part, it’s a matter of choice— every choice we make eventually affects our destiny. That’s what I believe. Not all Huguenots have believed in predestination, you know. In any case—I’ve never been a good Huguenot. I expect I’ll not be a good Catholic either. Truth be told, I hope only to be a good man.”

Pierre was shocked speechless. Forgetting that, less than an hour ago, he also had considered renouncing his faith; he felt his beloved cousin had forsaken everything that was dear to him. He stood up and walked over to the window of the workshop. Looking through the thick glass, he caught sight of the abandoned, medieval chateau standing on a slight rise in the village. Imposing as it was, it had seen much violence in the past. Like a young lad shorn of his curls, Catholics had torn down its beautiful turrets in a religious conflict, and replaced them with an ugly, slanted roof. Now, the villagers called it
Chateau a recadre,
the close-cropped chateau.

He never looked at it without thinking of the father and uncle he could not remember. Their deaths in that battle resulted in his grandfather bringing Jacques and himself up together as brothers. Gesturing towards the chateau, Pierre reminded Jacques. “How can you go back on our faith when so many have died defending it—our own fathers even? Do you also no longer believe in God?” he asked, despair in his voice.

“Of course I believe in God. It’s just some of Jean Calvin’s teachings, I question. After all, he is only a man. I’m not going to ruin all our lives for something I don’t agree with, Pierre, and at present it is most expedient for me to accept the Church.”

Pierre shook his head as if still trying to grasp the magnitude of this decision. Jacques’ revelation explained what had puzzled him about his cousin’s position at court; nevertheless, it had been a tremendous blow. He loved this man better than he loved anyone, other than his wife and children, and now they were to be torn apart, not only physically, but spiritually as well.

“Listen to me,” Jacques said. “If you are definite about your choice, I will do anything I can for you and your family. I love them as if they were my own and nothing would please me better than our children should marry some day.”

“And Marc? Has he made this decision too? I could never let my daughter marry a Catholic.”

“For now, it isn’t necessary for him to choose. Since the Church educated him, they assume he inclines towards them. I know he is in love with Louise. On our trip, he spoke of her every day. However, that discussion is for another time. Now we must concentrate on getting you out of this country. There is no doubt, Pierre, if you won’t sign, you will die.”

Chapter 5

“H
ave you given any thought to where you would want to go,” Jacques asked Pierre.

“I have been considering New France—Canada, as they call it. One hears much about Ville Marie being a flourishing centre. You were there. It’s an opportune place for a Frenchman, no?” As Pierre spoke, he returned to the table and refilled their wine goblets from the decanter of
pineau.
He moved like a man in a daze.

“If you are a good Catholic, yes,” Jacques replied. “The priests are in charge, and they have barred the Huguenots now. Anyway, it’s cold there; cold like you can’t even imagine, Pierre. I feel it would be best to take your family to England. King Charles has promised sanctuary to the followers of Calvin. I’m often in London, so I would be able to see you. Trust me, it would be easier and much safer to get your family there.”

“I’ve heard it’s a large city and costly. What would I do for money? Those who’ve already left took little with them. We aren’t even allowed to sell our homes anymore.”

“True, but your silks are already well-known in London. I’m sure your business would flourish there. I have an excellent agent in the city; a gold-smith by the name of Hypolite Thibault—descended from a Huguenot family. Paul, they call him in England. I’ve banked much of my gold with him. He’s a most trustworthy man with a reputation for honesty. I’d be happy to exchange a fair sum in London for you, in return for your farm. Is it still in Grandfather’s name?”

“Yes, with all the problems we Huguenots were having, I never enquired about changing the title legally. I didn’t want to call attention to myself. What in the world, would you do with this farm, Jacques? I thought you fancied the travelling life.”

“I’ll give it to Philippe. It will be his inheritance. He loves it here, and since we named him after Grandfather, there should be no title problems. I’ll give you a letter of credit for Hypolite—or Paul, I should say. I know you’ll like him.”

Pierre’s mind raced with all these new ideas. He was a prudent man who generally needed to mull everything over. However, he knew time was running out, so he listened as his cousin continued.

“In the meantime, I must get back to La Rochelle. I’ll arrange with a captain that I trust, to take you across the Channel in his merchant boat. Of course, you’ll need your looms when you get to London. For that, I’ll put them on board the packet boat with this batch of silk. Since I’m also taking cognac, perhaps they can go in some empty wine barrels. That won’t look suspicious.”

“But the English,” Pierre spoke, continuing his own line of thought. “Their ways are so different from ours. They don’t much like the French, and I know only a little of their language. Do you actually think we can make a life among them?”

“I do. There are many Huguenots in England. In fact, in the area known as Spitalfields, you will hear only French spoken, and they hold meetings freely. You’ll be able to worship as you wish there.”

He took another swallow of his wine.

“Really, Pierre, it will be much less of an ordeal for your family to go there. If you’re determined to do this, then it must be soon. I would say no more than a week or two at the most. The trouble escalates by the day, and once King Louis signs the new Edict, the sky will fall on those who insist on remaining in the faith.”

“And you—you’re positive you’ll be safe here?”

“Believe me, I’ll be fine. I’m a card player, and good at ‘bluff No, they’ll never doubt my sincerity. In the meantime, I’ll not forsake you, cousin. I’ll see that you get to England unharmed. Now, go and tell your family what the plan is, and I’ll return to La Rochelle to work out the arrangements.” He stood and turned towards the door.

“It’s a long, hard ride back,” Pierre commented, still somewhat in shock. “You should at least stay for a meal and rest overnight.”

“No. I’ll go back to my friend’s chateau for the night. I wish to speak with them again in any case. You had better be ready to leave by next week. I’ll come back then with a load of wine barrels. For the time being, say nothing of this plan to anyone else. It’s difficult to know whom to trust anymore.” He swept on his large hat. “Take care, Pierre. God be with you.”

The cousins embraced and, after watching Jacques depart, Pierre turned towards the house with a forlorn expression. Jacques’ revelations had torn his whole world apart, and now somehow he must tell his wife and children.

When the family gathered later in the day for their evening meal, Pierre told them about Jacques’ short visit. He described the horrors that lay ahead for any who refused to renounce their faith, and explained some of the details of his cousin’s plan to get them out of France.

“It will be a dangerous undertaking,” he added. “However, it will be even worse if we stay here and refuse to convert.”

“Then, we’ll have to go,” Claudine agreed. “I could never abandon my faith in Jean Calvin’s teachings to please the king, or to save my life for that matter.”

“Will Uncle Jacques’ family come with us?” Jean Guy inquired.

“No, they want to stay in France. Nevertheless, they’ll be safe, as they have no compunction about abjuring the faith. It is sad they’re not true believers, although I don’t think they believe in the Catholic faith much either. Jacques has his own strange thoughts on religion. Mainly he likes the position he holds in this country. Perhaps it’s his destiny. However…”

“Papa,” Jean Guy interjected, cutting off his loquacious father, “how will we live?”

“The silk looms are essential. I must have a way to support us, so we’ll take them with us. Other than that, we can each take a few items of clothing.”

“Oh, Pierre,” Claudine replied, with a sob in her voice. “I must take our wonderful Baroque clock. It was a wedding gift from my parents. Could we take it? I’ll bring only the clothing I’m wearing.” Two large tears rolled down her cheeks.

Pierre looked at his lovely wife. Should he deny her such a small favour? He appreciated how much she loved her delightful home and her existence in this pleasant little village. No doubt, she would find it difficult to adjust to any other way of life. He had been mentally preparing for it for some time and still it wasn’t easy to accept they must leave behind everything they loved.

“Don’t worry, my darling. I think we can manage the clock,” he said. He turned to the others. “And each of you pick one thing you love the most to take with you. Uncle Jacques is bringing us a load of wine casks. We’ll take the looms apart and place them inside the barrels. I’m sure there’ll be room for a few small items.”

Louise had been strangely silent during the discussion. Now she spoke up. “I don’t want to leave France, Papa. I’d like to stay with Aunt Marie in La Rochelle until Marc comes back. I’ll be old enough for us to be married by then.”

Everyone around the table looked at her in amazement. Pierre was the first to speak. He felt his face flame with anger. “What are you saying, girl? Stay here in France with a Catholic family. Never!” He banged the table with his fist.

“And what makes you think you’re going to marry Marc?” he roared. “He’s hasn’t spoken to me about this, and I would certainly set him straight if he did. You will marry whomever I say, and it’s not going to be the son of a Papist—even if he isn’t a sincere one.”

No one at the table dared to speak, while Louise, who had gone pale, sobbed quietly—her shoulders shaking in distress. Four-year-old Jeanette began to wail. The children had rarely seen him this angry, and he realized his outburst had shocked them all. His hand trembled as he put his fork down and took a sip from his goblet of pineau. He felt somewhat ashamed.

What is wrong with me, he wondered? I’m distraught about this whole situation, but I shouldn’t be taking it out on Louise like this. It’s only that I love her, and I don’t want to lose her to a man I know isn’t right for her.

When he spoke again, it was in a softer tone. “You may leave the table now, daughter. I think you should go to your room and think about this conversation. Your mother will speak to you later.”

Turning back to the others, he continued. “Jacques is taking over the farm, and in return, he’ll give me a note entitling me to a sum of money in London. We should be thankful, my dears. We’ll be a lot better off than many who have fled France with only the clothes on their back.”

“Yes,” Claudine said, her voice strained. “Since you warned them, some of the villagers have already gone and left everything behind. Suzette leaves in a few days. She told me, they can take nothing with them.”

Pierre shook his head sorrowfully, “We have a lot to consider. This is a difficult time for all of us. Right now, I believe we should have some Bible reading and a prayer. Beyond doubt, we must have God’s help to strengthen our faith, and to give us the courage we need to escape this country alive.”

So they sat and listened once more to the story of Moses leading the Israelites out of Egypt; and, as Pierre read the familiar words, he reflected on the dangerous journey on which they too were about to embark.