My life with the Musketeers and D'Artagnan

Chapitre 1

I was born in the court of Miracles, my mother was a white woman whom the parents didn't approve her relation with my father. My Father used to be a slave when he came in Paris a few years ago he met my mother and felt in love. My mother was from the bourgeoisie but lost all her belongings once she married my father. Both of them fled to the court of Miracles to hide from her parents. They lived there before I was born and they still lived there after I was born. They wanted to get away from this place but they didn't have enough money to do so. They brought me up the best they could. They are both dead now from the disease that run in the streets of the court of Miracles. My name is Emmanuelle de Sauvignon. I am 24 years old and I am a thief.

You have to live eventually even if it means that you have to relieve some of the noble person of their purse. This is what I do for living. My father brought me up to be an honest woman but when you live in the court of Miracles you have to throw any principles out of the window. It was either that or being a working girl, and I wasn't willing to do that. It happens that sometimes I get away from the court of Miracles for weeks, months but I always go back eventually. As crazy as it sounds I felt safe there. I felt like I belong. I am not one to brag but I think that I can say that I'm the best in my category. I became a master in disguise and pretending to be someone that I'm not. I could hold my ground in a sword fight, I could shoot. Actually you have to learn if you want to survive especially in the court of Miracles. My tan skin and my curly black hair make people mistaken me for a slave most of time when I was out of the court of Miracles. I have really bad habits to punch them in the face and yelling in their faces that I am free and I will die free. A little bit overdramatic I know.

As good as I am, I'm not invincible. A few days ago I stole the wrong person, some noble man who was keeping important paper in his purse. When I say important I mean compromising. This letter could send him to jail for years and probably to his own death. Most certainly his own death since it was plot against the King of France. As soon as I saw there were nothing of interest in his purse I just put it away without a second thought. I make this a duty of mine to keep all the purse that I stole so it wasn't lost it was with my belongings. And that's how my problem started. The thing when you relieve people from their purse is to be quick and make sure no one see your face. That's why I wear several disguise, fake moustache, men clothes, sometimes I even dressed up as prostitute. What I didn't know is that men was on edge and make sure to see the face of people he crosses path with. I didn't have to worry because I was wearing a fancy dress, I couldn't pretend to a noble woman but I could pretend to be a prostitute. Another habit of mine I tend to reuse some of the purse that I stole. Thinking that people will never recognise their purse, but he did recognise his.

It was that night my problem really started. I went to tavern to have a drink. I wore a pair of trousers, a men's shirt and a leather jerkin. My clothes perfectly fit with my curves. My long curvy hair was down and reached the small of my back. I had my pistol, my sword and my knife with me; I always have those when I got out. And I was wearing my hat on top of which was a purple feather, one of my favourite colours. This is how the real I look like. My eyes was what surprised people the most because they were a deep blue, I inherited them from my mother and some of my father's features like my nose; A flat nose. He was there drinking well he was drowning his sorrow. I didn't notice him at first and I don't think he pays so much attention to me.

That day was a particularly good day. I decided to pay a round of drinks for the tavern. As I was doing so I raised the purse in the air before going and paid for the drinks. That's when he came to me and asked me where I get the purse. I answered that I get it from my father. It's always from my father. But he insisted and tried to force him to give him the purse. Feeling that something was wrong I tried to get a way out of the tavern and more specifically out of his grip. He gets his knife out and pressed it against my throat. So I did the only thing that was logical and clever; I drawn attention to us by yelling at the top of my lungs. Surely enough the chatters in the tavern stopped and everyone were looking our way. A young gentleman, maybe of the same age as me not quite sure about that, came towards us and asked the man to leave. He refused and he attacked the young man, they both started to fight. I used that as my cue and I left the tavern thinking no one noticed me. What I didn't know was that young man was accompanied by three other gentlemen and they saw me leave.