Chapter Text
As far as lives went, Jehan’s wasn’t terribly exciting. He wasn’t particularly fortunate, but he wasn’t unfortunate, either. He had no mother, but his father was a kind enough man. He had plenty of work on the family farm—which doubled as a comfortable home—and friends to meet with for drinks in town. He took his simple comforts and never asked for much more.
But then his father died. And with the farm sold—and the house with it—Jehan found there was nowhere to go but out. So out he went.
There wasn’t as much sentimentality in leaving as he’d thought there’d be. His father dying had been sad and somewhat unexpected, yes, but he’d died peacefully, with no urgent missives or wise instructions for his son. He’d never attached emotions to objects, and so Jehan had never learned to, either. The only possession of real value he took with him was his fine green coat, and it was only so because it was the most expensive thing he owned.
There was no grand send-off from the town, no teary goodbyes or confessions of love. His friends wished him well, and he gave a last farewell to his father’s grave before turning his back on his hometown. In all, his leaving was surprisingly anticlimactic.
That was fine by him. He never liked a fuss.
Despite his plunging into the unknown, Jehan was optimistic. For now, he had a handful of coins in his pocket and fair weather to travel by. Whether he found his fortune or simply found some work, he was certainly on to bigger and better things.
The first night of his journey, he stayed in an inn in the next town over. After getting the bill, he decided cheaper lodgings would be in order until he found a place to stay. He spent the day asking around about work, but no one was looking for laborers, and Jehan didn’t have much more to offer. Even so, he didn’t let himself be disheartened just yet. There were plenty of towns and plenty of opportunities out there; this was just his first stop.
As the daylight waned, he wandered to the edge of the town as he considered his options. No one would want to take in a strange young man for the night; he’d be seen as a beggar at best and a threat at worst. But sleeping in the open didn’t seem like a viable option either. Just as he was considering using the last half of his coin to stay in the inn another night, his eyes caught sight of a saving grace.
A church.
The stained glass windows of the little church were cheerfully lit, and the door didn’t appear to be locked. Jehan went to test it, sighing in relief as the door opened, and poked his head in. The chapel appeared to be empty. He debated abandoning his plan, not wanting to break in, but considered that the door was open. Besides, it wasn’t like they’d throw him out of a church.
He dutifully crossed himself upon entering, then settled in one of the pews by the door. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but he had a warm, dry place to stay the night. He wasn’t about to complain. And, with that day’s wandering, he was able to doze off fairly quickly.
At least, until a loud commotion woke him up.
He was automatically on alert, sitting up straight in his pew and ready to leave. Was it a nun about to kick him out? Or just some drunks outside getting too rowdy? He frowned as he listened. The noise wasn’t just noise, it was voices. And while he couldn’t quite understand their full conversation, the foul language he caught told him that they were not voices that belonged here.
He stayed in place, heart hammering. Were they robbers? Should he leave? But he also couldn’t let a church get robbed. So, grabbing a heavy candlestick from the altar (and asking the Lord’s forgiveness as he did), he took a deep breath and followed the voices.
He wound his way out of the chapel, down a little path that led to the churchyard. The graves stood silently in the moonlight, and a pauper’s grave was open in the corner, with a shrouded body laid out to be buried. For a moment, his heart jumped as thought the edges of the white cloth were rippling on their own, but as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw two dark figures standing over the body, rifling beneath the shroud as they cursed at the corpse.
Again, Jehan debated doing nothing. But his own father had been in that corpse’s position just a few days before—laid out and unable to protect himself—and the thought of someone treating his father’s body this way sent a flash of anger through him. He walked down the path, holding up the candle as he cried out, “Leave him alone!”
The two men stilled, and the flickering candlelight caught their twin sneers as the looked up at him. The shorter of the two men scoffed and waved him away.
“Get out of here, boy,” he growled. “This is no concern of yours.”
Jehan braced himself, walking toward them as bravely as he could until he stood on the other side of the corpse. “You should know how wrong it is to mistreat the dead,” he said, voice shaking slightly. “This man here has no ill will toward you. He doesn’t have anything at all!”
“This man?” The ruffian pointed at the corpse, then let out a rasping laugh. “Oh, he has plenty of ill-will toward us. This bastard owes us money, and he went and died on us to get out of his debt!”
The other man nodded in agreement. “He’s going to pay one way or another,” he said, then pulled a knife from his hip. “I know some people who’ll pay a pretty penny for a nice heart and eyes.”
“Don’t!” Jehan cried, only to recoil as the two laughed.
“What’s he matter to you, boy? You’ve never even met him,” the first man said.
“You’d best be getting home, anyway,” the second added, knife glinting threateningly in the candlelight. “There’s nothing for you to do here.”
Jehan stepped back, hesitating. Was there anything he could do? Well, what would he want someone to do for his father?
He swallowed, then dug into his pocket. He pulled out his few remaining coins, holding them out for the men.
“I’ll pay his debt,” he said. “This is all I have. Just…just let this man rest.”
The men looked at his coins, then glanced at each other before the shorter man grinned sharply.
“A real heart of gold you have, friend,” he said, taking the gold. “For being so kind, I’ll give you a bit of advice in exchange. No one likes a charity case, and if you keep helping useless causes…” He gestured to the dead man before them. “…you’ll die a damned fool like our friend here.”
He gave Jehan a nod, then gestured for the other man to follow him out. Each gave Jehan a hearty clap on the shoulder with a laugh, then made their way out of the churchyard. Jehan watched them leave, suddenly aware that he was very alone in the churchyard, now without a penny to his name.
Well, he was still doing better than the corpse, at least.
He rubbed his face, then turned with a sigh, looking down at the dead man. He knew better than to lift the shroud; you never looked at a dead stranger’s face, lest it turn out to be your own. Even so, he tried to imagine the man beneath it—he must have been in pretty dire straits to die in debt to people like that.
If you keep helping useless causes…
Well, he was already a damned fool for helping a corpse. He might as well send this man off with a bit of comfort. He shrugged off his fine coat and laid it over the body.
“There. You can at least be buried properly now,” he said, sitting on the ground with his candle. “I’ll stay with you tonight and make sure they don’t come back.” He paused for a moment, then added, “My father hadn’t wanted to be left alone; I won’t leave you alone, either.”
The corpse said nothing in return.
Jehan sighed and settled back against a tombstone. He really was a damned fool, giving everything he had for a man who could never repay him, who at this point was just an empty husk.
But, as he shut his eyes, he was sure that the ruffian had been wrong. He was a fool, yes, but a kind fool. And in the end, that would have to count for something.
He hoped so, at least.