the start of ambrose

"Ambrose! Tu peut descendre, ma chérie?" demanded a voice, laced with irritation. Ambrose Natte Littleray, a four year old with a curiosity that could kill a cat, brought her little fists to her eyes as she rubbed them open. Her green eyes danced with excitement as she sat up, and shoved her blanket off her bed. She ran to the window, her chubby feet tripping over themselves in the process, and nearly ripped the old curtains open. Her heart nearly exploded from joy. She pulled down an old cloak and wrapped it around herself, nearly knocking over a candle. 

"Ambrose Natte! For the love of God, please come down stairs!" yelled a more masculine, British sounding voice. Ambrose jumped two feet in the air and hurried downstairs, accidentally kicking her cat, Wilma, as she slipped down.

"Sorry, papa." She muttered, looking down at her two feet. Her mother, Mauryne, flocked to her side and ripped off the cloak, replacing it with a red tunic, and fastened it with clasps. Ambrose paused to admire the color, and looked to her father, Edmund, who's anger had faded away.

"It is quite alright, dearest. I just wanted to be ready for this evening. We shall be leaving by boat to sail to Brittany, and sell this year's harvest over there." He said, and gestured to the fields. Mauryne threw some patched up leggings to Ambrose, and the latter hastily put them on before answering.

"Shall I go get ready, then? Are we bringing Wilma?" she asked, curiously.

"Uncle Peter will stop by to take care of Wilma, Rosie. This'll only be a short trip. We already packed your knapsack."

"And the cattle? Who will take care of them?" Ambrose demanded, as her father chuckled.

"Peter knows what he's doing, Rosie. Rest assured, the cattle are in good hands. Now, will you come help me pack the rest of the wheat?"

"Of course I will. Are the sales not going well this year, papa? Is this why we're going to Brittany?" Edmund froze, and Mauryne scowled.

"Darling –" Edmund started.

"Now, now, Edmund," Mauryne said, cautiously. "You don't want to tell Ambrose everything, do you?"

"It's alright, Maur." He turned to Ambrose, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Rosie, I've told you many times not to listen to our conversations..." he hesitated before continuing. "But yes, the crops aren't selling well this year in England. Therefore, to continue to be able to plant our crops, we will have to go sell in Brittany." Ambrose stared at him, her eyes wide.

"What if it doesn't sell in Brittany, papa?" Mauryne made a disapproving noise.

"Then we shall enter France, provided that the borders aren't too secure. Mind you, we've got our very own Frenchwoman here." He smiled affectionately to Mauryne, and a ghost of a smile flashed on her face.

"I'm half-French, too!" Ambrose said proudly, and beat her fist on her chest, and Edmund laughed.

"Quite right, you are. But you're more English. You've got that crazed, Anglo-Saxon streak in you, missy." He said, and patted her head affectionately, and she giggled. "Come along, now. Let's go pack the rest of the crops, and then we'll be on our way."

Edmund glanced at the sundial outside, and Ambrose followed him out. Edmund kneeled by the pile of unpacked wheat, and Ambrose grabbed a straw hat that was much too large for her own head and rolled up her leggings before joining him. She mimicked her father's packing strategies, and wrapped the wheat tightly with string before tossing it into the cart.

Edmund's lips tugged upwards when he saw his only child working so hard, and his heart burst with pride for the little girl.

"Rosie, this job was meant for you! You're going to be a great farmer when you grow up." He said, proudly.

"But, papa, there are other things to do with my life!" Ambrose protested, and Edmund laughed at her fierceness.

"And we shall support you in whatever you want to do, Rosie," he ruffled her hair. "If you want to travel around the world, then we will travel with you," she smiled at him, her teeth crooked. "Even if you want to be the Queen of the Byzantine Empire, I promise that we will fight whoever we have to get you there." She giggled earnestly, and turned back to the wheat.

Ambrose knew she was lucky her parents treated her so well, and that they were one of the few families who had some land left and didn't require any serfs. Edmund always believed that the entire theory of serfdom was absolutely ridiculous, and the only people working in the farm were Uncle Peter and himself.

They packed the wheat in silence, only stopping to greet their English foxhound, Patton.

"Hullo, Patton!" said Ambrose, and enthusiastically petted the dog's head. "Dear me, old boy. You're in a need of a hefty trim."

"Rosie, how many times must I tell you? Patton doesn't understand English. He speaks Dog." Edmund laughed, and pushed his dark hair out of his eyes.

However, Patton happily barked and went inside to where Mauryne was, as if he knew where to find the scissors.

"Well, that was certainly strange. It's almost as if he did understand you, Rosie." Edmund chuckled, and Ambrose smiled.

"Of course he understands me, papa. He even answered! He said, 'I'll go find the scissors, Miss. Littleray.'" Ambrose answered confidently, as Edmund shook his head, and laughed.

"Little Rosie, you're such a joker."

"But I'm serious, papa! He did say that!" She looked frustrated, and confused. Edmund sensed her frustration and nodded along.

"Of course, of course, you're completely right. I shouldn't have doubted –" he paused, and looked at a hedge ahead. "Dear me, is that hedge on fire? Is it really that hot?" Ambrose stared with frightened eyes and ran inside, and Edmund ran forward to extinguish the small fire.

"Ambrose, Qu'est-ce qu'il y à, ma belle?" Mauryne asked, worried at Ambrose's sudden appearance.

"Rien, maman. Il y à juste le buisson dehors qui à pris feux."

"Mon dieu!" Mauryne exclaimed, and hastily turned to the door. "Edmund! Is everything all right, dear?"

"Why, everything is dandy, Mauryne. I imagine it was quite a scare for Rosie, but everything is safe now." Edmund said, as he took large gulps of air to regain his breath.

"Papa? It wasn't my fault, was it?" Ambrose asked, trembling from head to toe.

"Rosie, that's absurd! You we right next to me, how could you possibly set the hedge on fire?"

"I don't know, papa." She huffed. "I was just worried." Edmund's eyes softened as he took Ambrose into his arms.

"It's normal to be scared, Ambrose. But everything is fine, now." He glanced at the sundial again. "Oh, my! It's nearly time to go! Mauryne, are the horses ready? We must be at the port before sundown."

"I'll go check on them, Edmund. Ambrose, très chère, go fetch the luggage, will you? Your knapsack is right there, by the stairs." Mauryne hustled Ambrose forward, and turned to go to the stables.

Ambrose tripped again and went towards the bags, finding them very heavy. She lugged them forward and sighed in frustration as she struggled to move them. She willed for them to be lighter, and to her delight, they suddenly were.

Naturally, Ambrose was much to preoccupied to notice this change, and happily packed the bags onto the horses, who had conveniently been roped together, and finally went to pick up her knapsack. When she deemed herself ready, she went upstairs to bid farewell to Wilma.

"Good-bye, Wilma. We shall be back soon," she whispered, and the young cat looked up into Ambrose's eyes. "Try to behave around Uncle Peter, you're the mistress of this house, now." The cat mewed softly, and licked Ambrose's cheek. She got up and waved goodbye to Wilma, still holding her cheek and smiling as she descended the stairs.

"Rosie? Are you ready?" Edmund called, his voice on edge.

"Yes, papa!" She tottered towards the front door and shot a final look to the house. "See you soon..." she muttered as Mauryne pulled her up onto a horse.

"Alright, Peter! Thanks for everything, brother," Edmund embraced Peter, and jumped onto another horse, grabbing the reins. "See you upon our return."

"Take good care of Wilma and Patton, Uncle Peter! And the cattle!" Ambrose waved from behind her mother, and Peter waved back, laughing.

"Wouldn't dream of doing anything else, my dearest niece! Take care!"

"Good-bye!" She yelled one last time, nearly falling off the horse. Mauryne tut-tutted, and pulled Ambrose back into safety. Ambrose smiled sheepishly at her, and Mauryne rolled her eyes, and turned her head back to face the front.

"Dors, ma belle. Le voyage va être long." Mauryne said softly. Ambrose sighed, and tried to lull herself to sleep with the beats of the hooves hitting the ground. She gripped Mauryne tightly and dozed off, the images of the English countryside flashing in her head.

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After a couple of hours travelling, Edmund slowed the pace, and the four horses slowed down.

"We've arrived, dearest." He said, looking tired. Mauryne smiled at him, unclasped Ambrose's tiny arms from her waist, and graciously hopped off the horse. They walked hand-in-hand to the harbormaster, and bowed.

"Mr. and Mrs. Littleray, I presume. We received your pigeon a while ago." He said, and scanned down his list. "The boat will depart soon. Mind you, the weather is looking quite awful. But it should be a quick trip, so you should be able to avoid it." Mauryne looked worriedly at the sky, and Edmund put an arm around her waist.

"What shall we do about the horses, sir?" Edmund gestured to the four mammals, and the now-awoken Ambrose.

"You'll be gone for a maximum of thirty days, yes? You can put them in the short-term stables. My wife will take care of them," He pointed to the stables on the left of a quaint looking house. Edmund nodded, and Mauryne went to the horses to help Ambrose down.  "You'll be riding a larger modified knarr ship, Mr. Littleray. The other passengers are already waiting for it to arrive." He bowed his head and pointed to a group of about thirty people, and turned to help Mauryne with the wheat. Ambrose had already grabbed her knapsack and was excitedly observing everything around her.

Once everything had been unpacked, the horses were finally brought to the short-term stable. Ambrose carefully ran her hands through each of their manes.

"Wolfe, Wellington, Walsh, and Minnie," she said sternly. "I expect you four to be on your best behavior. Stay good." She gave Minnie one last pat, and the four horses brayed loudly in farewell.

"Ambrose, t'es prête?" Mauryne called. "The ship is nearing the dock." Ambrose turned and ran towards the mother to watch the knarr arriving at the port. She watched in fascination as the old Nordic ship came closer.

"Quite amazing, is it not?" Edmund smiled down to his daughter. "I can hardly believe this is already your first time on a ship, my sweet pea." He picked her up into his arms and kissed her cheek. Ambrose grinned broadly at her father before watching people board the ship. "We'll be on it for about 5 hours. Are you excited?" She nodded fervently, and her eyes widened as Edmund dropped her onto a seat.

"Papa!" she said, her voice strained. "Don't leave me!" A few of the passengers laughed heartily.

"I'm just off to fetch the wheat and the luggage, Rosie." Edmund chuckled. "I'll be back." Ambrose whimpered as he hopped off the boat.

"Now, lassie, there's no need to be scared." Said a friendly voice. Ambrose whipped her head towards the voice and saw an older man, smiling at her. "You'll be quite fine. I'm Captain Ernest." He held out his big, scarred hand and looked at Ambrose expectantly. Hastily, she held out hers and shook his hand, feeling as if she had just been shaken by a giant.

"I'm A-Ambrose Littleray," she said, shyly. "But you c-can call me R-Rosie."

"Well, Rosie, it looks like everyone is on the ship," he said, just as Mauryne sidled next to Ambrose. "Alright, everyone! This should be quite a short trip; the English Channel isn't that long. We're expecting to have some bad weather, but nothing this old thing can't handle," Captain Ernest patted the side of the boat. "We have some hay bales and cloaks for those who get tired or cold, but as I said before, it'll be a short trip and we'll be on the other side before sundown." He nodded at his two sailors, and they pushed the knarr off the shore, and hoisted its sails. The sails caught the wind and they started heading in the direction of Brittany.

Ambrose gripped her mother's hand, her brown hair billowing in the wind. She squinted ahead and saw dark clouds.

Her voyage was far from being over.

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hey everyone it's clara! i hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter. please vote/comment/share/whatever & asks questions here.