Spring 1624-1628

From inside her room, Madelon lifted her eyes from the paragraph she was currently reading and took a hinge outside, where she heard the chickens clucking and flapping, scattering into the bushes, as her younger sister, Marion, continued to chase the poor birds.Madelon kept her back to the wall and let a small sigh escape her lips.
The four years spent in the Convent haven't changed the younger sisters too much.Even if Beatrice and Denisete seemed to temper a little by the third winter, Louise and Eleonore's departure for Algiers and their inhumane fate made the three girls want to leave the Convent even more.
But, with their parents' current situation, Madelon knew all to well that nothing was possible.


Day was dawning over the Convent, and once again Marion was up before the nuns, but, unlike she wasn't obliged to get up and pray twice during the night. It amused her nevertheless.It had been raining during the night and everything was still moist around her, but the air was chill and rich with the smells of mud and wet dust and she enjoyed the solitude more than anything else.
She took a walk around the Convent and into the gardens, until she stopped in front of the massive gate that prevented her from leaving that place.Not that it would have been too complicated for her to climb over the walls or thread her way trough one of the many existing loopholes.She already did that a couple of times and managed to reach the nearest town, but she gave up there, because every time someone would spot her and inform a monk who would politely escort her back to the Convent, where she had to listen to her sister's and abbess' sermons.So she gave up her escapades.
Now and then she would receive a letter from her twin sister, Agnesot.She would hear news about her sister's marriage, her children and husband and their life.She would hear about the King and the Queen and about the Crown Prince and Princesses.And she would bit her lower lip until she could taste the blood because she didn't want to cry.

But that morning the things turned out different.When she was returning from her morning walk she heard a rustle somewhere behind the threes and, after that, she was almost sure that she distinguished a groan.When she got closer she recognized a man's silhouette.He was injured and his hair and clothes were dirty and impregnate with blood.He glanced at her and, for a moment, Marion felt paralysed.Even hidden by the dirty cloth and behind the greasy locks of hair, she could distinguish their strange color: an unnatural violet, which reminded her of the sunset.A moment later the man got off into a dead faint.

Worried that one of the nuns would catch a glimpse of her or the man if she left him there, the young woman forgot about everything and tried to drag him inside of an old and abandoned barn.She left him there, whispering a promise that she will come back as soon as she will be able to.

The rest of the day seemed run its course in slow motion.She cooked and cleaned the rooms, helped her sisters and the other nuns, doled out and gave the rooms a sweep.By the sunset she was dead beaten, but she managed to get out of the room as soon as everyone got to sleep and go to the barn.She found the man still unconscious, where she had left him in the morning.After that, Marion spent the next couple of hours cleaning and dressing his wounds, while narrating every story that she could remember.Even if she was almost sure that he couldn't hear her, she told him about her parents, her childhood, the places where she grew up and about how sad she felt about spending her life in the Convent.

 During the next couple of weeks Marion continued to visit the stranger, until, one spring morning, she found him awake.He told her that his name was François Villon and that he was a poet and a vagabond.He used to live in Paris but he left the city when he was sentenced to death because of an incident with a cleric.Then he started to tell her about his life and Marion simply hang on the man's lips.After that the two of them slunk into the kitchen where they continued to talk while enjoying some hastily cooked food.

By promising her the world with all it's richness the young poet managed to charm Marion, who soon fell in love with him.

During the last weeks of spring the two young adventurers prepared their plan for freedom.
On the night day of that spring, after stealing the golden crucifixes and every valuable item they could find,  François and his lover fled into the woods.