Read Online The Ruby Talisman by Belinda Murrell - Free Book Online
Authors: Belinda Murrell
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annoyance. ‘Don’t be silly, Amelie– thousands of aristocrats will be murdered in the next five years,’ she insisted. ‘You won’t live to see your twentieth birthday if you stay here. Besides, you’re my ancestor. If you die – my family won’t exist either.’
Mimi clambered down the post and offered Amelie her paw, sticky with jam, to lick.
‘I am innocent,’ argued Amelie, ignoring Mimi. ‘And I’m a girl. There’s no reason to kill me – they wouldn’t dare!’
‘Amelie, they will kill thousands of innocent people. They will even invent a machine called the guillotine to make killing people easier and more efficient. The King and Queen; most of the nobles of Versailles; even the little Dauphin, the four-year-old prince – they will all die.’
Amelie turned over and buried her face in the feather pillows, covering her ears with her hands. Mimi sat on the pillow beside her head, licking her paw clean, occasionally patting Amelie’s curls.
Amelie and Tilly spent a miserable day and night in the empty, plundered apartment. Neither of them slept well. Tilly wondered what would happen if she went to sleep. Would she wake up at home in Auntie Kara’s little attic room and find it was all a strange dream?
They woke early on the morning of July 15, 1789. Amelie tossed and turned restlessly, which woke Tilly. They stared at each other, eyes wide with astonishment to find that Tilly was still there.
‘Bonjour,’ mumbled Amelie, rubbing her forehead. ‘I have a headache.’
‘And I’m starving,’ complained Tilly. ‘We had nothing for dinner.’
Amelie sat up and rang the bell next to her bed. Of course, no-one came.
The girls slowly dressed in their clothes from the day before, helping each other with the stays and their hair.
‘Bon. Let us go and find some breakfast,’ suggested Amelie.
As the two girls walked the tiled corridors of the palace, they could sense something different from yesterday. Courtiers, servants, nobles and pages stood in little huddles whispering and glancing furtively at the girls as they past.
A large dowager brushed past them carrying a huge gold birdcage with a brightly coloured parrot squawking inside. She was followed by a maid laden down with portmanteaus and bandboxes. The dowager’s dress was rumpled and her hair dishevelled, as though she had dressed hurriedly.
‘Something’s going on,’ Amelie whispered to Tilly. ‘I wonder what it is?’
‘I told you,’ retorted Tilly. ‘The Bastille fell yesterday and the Revolution has begun.’
Amelie glared at Tilly and walked faster. With a small cry, she recognised someone in plain black breeches, jacket and waistcoat, hurrying down the corridor towards them.
‘Monsieur Lebrun, my music master,’ explained Amelie. ‘He might be able to tell us something. Bonjour, Monsieur Lebrun. Has something happened? What is going on?’
Monsieur Lebrun stopped somewhat reluctantly and made a little bow.
‘Mesdemoiselles, I cannot stop for long,’ warned the music master. ‘Have you not heard? La Bastille was stormed yesterday afternoon by an angry mob. The news came through last night while the King slept.’
Amelie glanced at Tilly in astonishment. Tilly raised her eyebrows in a told you so gesture.
‘Apparently, the rioters assaulted the prison to steal weapons and gunpowder,’ continued Monsieur Lebrun. ‘Over one hundred people died and many more were wounded in the assault, yet the soldiers were powerless to stop them.
‘The mob murdered the governor of the fortress and paraded his head around the city on a pike.’
Amelie shivered with fear, clutching Tilly’s arm.
‘The prisoners were freed, and the mob began to tear down the very wall of the fortress. Wild rumours and accusations are flying around Paris against the King and Queen and their favourites. There is talk of more bloodshed. The streets of Paris are dangerous, with aristocrats being pulled from their carriages and murdered in the
Mimi clambered down the post and offered Amelie her paw, sticky with jam, to lick.
‘I am innocent,’ argued Amelie, ignoring Mimi. ‘And I’m a girl. There’s no reason to kill me – they wouldn’t dare!’
‘Amelie, they will kill thousands of innocent people. They will even invent a machine called the guillotine to make killing people easier and more efficient. The King and Queen; most of the nobles of Versailles; even the little Dauphin, the four-year-old prince – they will all die.’
Amelie turned over and buried her face in the feather pillows, covering her ears with her hands. Mimi sat on the pillow beside her head, licking her paw clean, occasionally patting Amelie’s curls.
Amelie and Tilly spent a miserable day and night in the empty, plundered apartment. Neither of them slept well. Tilly wondered what would happen if she went to sleep. Would she wake up at home in Auntie Kara’s little attic room and find it was all a strange dream?
They woke early on the morning of July 15, 1789. Amelie tossed and turned restlessly, which woke Tilly. They stared at each other, eyes wide with astonishment to find that Tilly was still there.
‘Bonjour,’ mumbled Amelie, rubbing her forehead. ‘I have a headache.’
‘And I’m starving,’ complained Tilly. ‘We had nothing for dinner.’
Amelie sat up and rang the bell next to her bed. Of course, no-one came.
The girls slowly dressed in their clothes from the day before, helping each other with the stays and their hair.
‘Bon. Let us go and find some breakfast,’ suggested Amelie.
As the two girls walked the tiled corridors of the palace, they could sense something different from yesterday. Courtiers, servants, nobles and pages stood in little huddles whispering and glancing furtively at the girls as they past.
A large dowager brushed past them carrying a huge gold birdcage with a brightly coloured parrot squawking inside. She was followed by a maid laden down with portmanteaus and bandboxes. The dowager’s dress was rumpled and her hair dishevelled, as though she had dressed hurriedly.
‘Something’s going on,’ Amelie whispered to Tilly. ‘I wonder what it is?’
‘I told you,’ retorted Tilly. ‘The Bastille fell yesterday and the Revolution has begun.’
Amelie glared at Tilly and walked faster. With a small cry, she recognised someone in plain black breeches, jacket and waistcoat, hurrying down the corridor towards them.
‘Monsieur Lebrun, my music master,’ explained Amelie. ‘He might be able to tell us something. Bonjour, Monsieur Lebrun. Has something happened? What is going on?’
Monsieur Lebrun stopped somewhat reluctantly and made a little bow.
‘Mesdemoiselles, I cannot stop for long,’ warned the music master. ‘Have you not heard? La Bastille was stormed yesterday afternoon by an angry mob. The news came through last night while the King slept.’
Amelie glanced at Tilly in astonishment. Tilly raised her eyebrows in a told you so gesture.
‘Apparently, the rioters assaulted the prison to steal weapons and gunpowder,’ continued Monsieur Lebrun. ‘Over one hundred people died and many more were wounded in the assault, yet the soldiers were powerless to stop them.
‘The mob murdered the governor of the fortress and paraded his head around the city on a pike.’
Amelie shivered with fear, clutching Tilly’s arm.
‘The prisoners were freed, and the mob began to tear down the very wall of the fortress. Wild rumours and accusations are flying around Paris against the King and Queen and their favourites. There is talk of more bloodshed. The streets of Paris are dangerous, with aristocrats being pulled from their carriages and murdered in the
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