Prologue

A cry rang out in the dark night, but it wasn't the blood chilling sound of a grown man or woman. It was the sound of a baby crying. The comotion had set the lights aflame in the night as many guards rushed to the cell where a woman, just moments ago, laid in excrutiating pain as a midwife helped with the delivery of a child. She cradled the newborn in her arms, as she lay exhausted by the bedside, wishing for some water which a guard was to fetch, but didn't. She kissed the beautiful baby boy, for she knew she would not be allowed to keep him. She stared down at him with a loving gaze as the news eventually reached her husband through word of mouth, passed by the prisoners. She was taken away from her bliss with a simple chill from the cold night air. It's intense freeze made her think of how they ended up in such a horrid place...

Jeanne-Marie called to her husband from the back of the wagon. The gypsys had set up camp in the town of Toulon. Being on the coast they though that maybe many a sailors would come along and gladly offer their hard earned money to hear of a love that they might encounter. Jeanne-Marie chuckled to herself, for she almost felt sorry for the innocent soldiers. She decided to find her husband when he didn't return her beaconning. She found Paul by one of their closest friends Phillipe. He was helping fix a broken axle.

"What are you up to my daring husband?" she asked casually as she watch him at work. "Hardly as much as you!" He replied as he put his work down. He quickly rushed over to his wife and gave her a sweet kiss. His one arm reached around her waist, the other gave a gentle glid over her stomach where she carried their soon to be son. She smiled back and returned the kiss with a bright smile.

"I have breakfast made if you'd care to join me." She gave a seductive wink and gently pushed him off of her.

"Yes, just one more minute, ma cherie." She walked back to her wagon and sat on the steps she stared at her husband with the deepest love. He was tall and very handsome. He had long black hair the color of the night, but his eyes were just like stars sparkling with a bright greenish-grey color that made her heart sore as she gazed at them.

Paul had to stop. After meeting his wife for the second time that morning he decided to just go appease her then finish his work. He excused himself and walked towards her. He gazed at her slim figure and curly brown hair. She was a true gypsy, whereas he had married in, but he still fit in very well. She was yet noticable with her child, but she was soon on the way there. This son was Jeanne-Marie's second, for she had a daughter named Cecile who was three and could not wait to see the new child.

Jeanne-Marie called to Cecile, but she was already out at play. Cecile was a dark skinned, brown hair, and green eyed girl. She was a beautiful creature who was sure to be corted by all the young men once she was of age.

The gypsy had just been run out of Antibes, and decided to try something a little more southern. They had been there for a few months, while the Revelution was taking place they prefered to stay away from Paris while all the nobles' heads were winding up in baskets.

The gypsy's had gotten to know the policed and were treated very nicely by them. The police saw that they weren't the tricks and whores kind.

One day when Jeanne-Marie was only a few months from childbirth a very strange thing had happend in Toulon. Some had made an absolute mess of the town ripping and pilaging it to shreds. When no one of the town knew who it was they turned on the gypsies as a way of finding a scape-goat. They were absolutely merciless. Even Jeanne-Marie who was with child was thrown into the jail.

*** Shortly after Jeanne-Marie's young son had gone off of her breasts and started to eat whole food, the bise arrived. Jeanne-Marie who was not used to the wind and who had never expirienced such a thing went mad at the constant wind in her ears and dirt on her floors. The gedarmes quickly confiscated her young son and shot her for her maddness. They called the young boy Javert, for that was the family name. His given name was told to him, yet rarely used at all. He became the prime source of pleasure for all the young tormenting boys. He was forced to grow up in the prison. A small bed was given to him and just some small pieces of bread. No one cared much for him, but he still made it a point to copy exactly what the gedarmes where doing.

Once Javert was twelve he was welcomed into the prisons training. They somehow thought that he would make a wonderful soldier. He was trained in reading and writing when he was younger and was taught english in order to communicate with the British who took over the south of France. He always did as he was told and was quickly promoted through the ranks.

Javert knew little of parents, only that his mother was an insane gypsy and his father a galley slave who was later released, but soon moved away from Toulon. He didn't care to learn about his past, but was constantly reminded of it when someone decided to make a joke of him. Javert soon showed them who was this young boy they chose to laugh at. He always did his job with the best of pace and the most acuracy. People were so astonished that they quickly stopped the teasing and regarded him in awe.

When Javert had reached the carefree age of sixteen he moved into a small home of his own. He was just promotted and decided that living in the prison was not the place for someone of his ranking. He bought a very small house near the prison. He furnished it with only a small bed, a desk and a table for his meals. He usually chose not to cook, but would rather stop and retrieve something on the way home. He had of course one bakery that he attended and one meat shop, he always kept his life in a very organized fashion, until one day everthing changed...

Continue to part 1.