Marie d'Albeau [Mah-ree Dall-boh]
Early Life
Marie d’Albeau was born on
July 16th, 1914 in Monthermé (Mon-thur-may (said quickly)) in the
French Ardennes to Mathieu (Ma-tue) and Esmé (Ez-may) d’Albeau. Mathieu was a
30-year-old sergent-chef (sair-gent chef) in the Armée de Terre (Arr-may deh
T-air), and Esmé was a 24-year-old schoolteacher within Monthermé itself.
12 days after Marie’s birth,
the First World War began, and towns but a few hours away from Monthermé were
attacked by Germany. Mathieu was sent to fight in towns and cities that had
seemed so peaceful previously.
Her father returned to
Monthermé in 1918, when Marie was 4 years old, and as Marie grew up, Mathieu
began to treat her like the son he had never had. Marie was taught how to
handle a Lebel and was shown the Hotchkiss and Chauchat machine guns. She
learnt to wield bayonets and knives, and this “training” later proved
fantastically useful to her.
Esmé was naturally concerned
about the influence that being around weapons of war and destruction would have
on her impressionable young daughter.
Marie adored her father and
grew up loving the ideals he held in high esteem; that they should be proud to
be French and of the heritage they had as French people. He also strongly
believed in “fight and win or die fighting”, something that Marie went and did
in her later life many, many times.
When Marie turned ten, her
father was in the Rhineland, occupying the area as part of the Armée de Terre,
yet he sent her a wooden necklace he had whittled for her to occupy his free
time, with a small fox-cub charm as its focal point. Marie was surprised and
overjoyed at her present, and refused to take the necklace off except for when
bathing. This necklace would later go on to give her the name she became known
under to many members of the Résistance Française (ray-sis-tense frahn-say-z)
and the German military alike.
When Marie was 15, France felt
the shockwaves the Great Depression emanated. Marie spent this time honing her
skills whenever she wasn’t up at the schoolhouse aiding her mother with her
young classes. Marie’s knife skills reached the point where she could hit a
target cleanly from 30 paces. Her father was impressed, but Esmé began to feel
that her daughter was more soldier than woman, and they had many disagreements
at this point in Marie’s life. Mathieu saw the divide between his wife and
daughter and convinced Esmé to give Marie a day off from helping at the
schoolhouse so she could “help with the housework”, while telling Marie to use that time to do her “training”, rather than
in her mother’s view.
Esmé continued to suggest to
Marie as she reached the age of 19 and 20, that she was reaching a suitable age
for marriage to a man who could look out for her and provide her with her own
home to look after. Marie was adamant that she didn’t want to marry anyone, and that she was quite capable of looking
after a home on her own. Esmé and Marie both understood that there was going to
be a stalemate and very little chance of them seeing eye-to-eye. From that day
on, Marie and her mother barely spoke at home, and Marie continued her training
in the knowledge of her mother’s disdain.
World War II
As the threat to France from
Germany grew in 1939 and 1940, Mathieu was promoted to Sergent-Chef-Major of
the 9th Army. It was a ceremonial role alone, to signify that he was
one of the best non-commissioned officers that the Armée de Terre had. He was
posted to the Maginot Line, to keep watch over the border between France and
Belgium.
While her father was a couple of
miles away at the Maginot Line, Marie began to get in touch with the very first
disorganised beginnings of the Résistance Française, and began working with
them, trying to build a network of contacts and allies in case of invasion. Her
ability to create friends and allies easily, alongside her high skill levels
with knives and guns made her a useful member of their little group, and the
fox necklace she wore earned her the nickname and alias of “La Renarde Noir”
(“La ren-ahh-ed no-are) or “The Black Vixen”.
On May 13th, 1940,
a battle broke out at Sedan, close to Monthermé, and the Maginot Line was
broken through. On May 15th, Monthermé itself was attacked. The
other Résistance members rushed forward into battle and engaged with the
Germans, while Marie and a couple of others stayed back, hidden, attacking from
a distance – some using guns, others (like Marie) using the much more silent
but equally deadly knives and other implements.
The Armée de Terre (including
Sergent-Chef-Major d’Albeau) struggled to hold the line, and by the end of the
battle, only three of Marie’s allies had survived, and the 9th Army
had surrendered en mass. Shocked that her father would allow his men to
surrender as they had, Marie looked around and tried to spot him in the columns
of men now at the mercy of the German footsoldiers. She couldn’t see him, and
once the Germans and their prisoners had moved on, she realised why.
Lying in the mud, mouth half
open as if about to speak, and eyes glassy, she saw her father’s lifeless body.
Marie, filled with the burning desire for revenge, furiously wiped her tears
aside, as she and her two colleagues pulled his bulletholed and bayoneted body
from the carnage. As they did so, a small brown paper package fell from her
father’s body. Marie picked it up, and stashed it away in her coat pocket. She
took his wedding ring, to return to her mother, and solemnly replaced it with
the necklace he had crafted for her, winding it between his fingers, and then
the three of them buried him in a secluded spot, away from the battlefield,
marking it with his helmet.
As she returned home, her eyes
red and sore, she gently took the brown package from her pocket. In her
father’s handwriting, she saw the words “Pour ma fille la plus chere, Marie”.
She gently turned it over and untied the string holding it together neatly. As
the packet fell open, a long silver hairpin was revealed, set with glass gems
of varying shades of blue. What Marie found most interesting was the shape of
the pin itself. It was almost kite-shaped, and its edge seemed thinner than any
pin she had ever seen before. Intrigued, she traced its edge with her finger,
and gasped in pain and shock as she withdrew her finger, now bleeding from
something akin to a papercut. Feeling betrayed, she looked at it with
distrustful eyes...until it dawned on her. Her father had found her a weapon
her mother couldn’t spot, that she could wear on her person in plain sight
without arousing suspicion, and that could be more deadly than some other
weapons she had been trained with if it was used properly. She said a silent
thankful prayer, and prepared to see her mother, as she slid the hairpin into
place.
When she returned home and
told her mother of her father’s death, Esmé was more distressed that her
daughter had been there than at the news of her husband’s passing. Esmé had
known for a long time that her husband might end up dead in the line of work he
did. But she had never considered the possibility that their daughter might follow in his footsteps.
Marie handed her mother her father’s wedding band and told her she would return
soon. Esmé’s concerned queries as to Marie’s next moves fell on deaf ears, and
she was left alone as her daughter walked out, into the twilight, alone.
Marie and her remaining
colleagues met up at a secret “hideout” near the town that evening, the gem
encrusted hairpin worn with pride. She was brought up to speed with the
situation along the Maginot Line, which was dire in every direction. She was
chosen to be the new leader of their résistance group, due to her attacking
prowess and her ability to think quickly in a tight situation. She accepted the
position, and set about co-ordinating a response to the new German occupation.
Her father’s death, and the nerve of the Germans to just waltz into her country
spurred her on.
All through France, there was
a buzz about the Dunkirk landings and evacuation at the end of May and
beginning of June 1940. Marie arranged for her maquis (Résistance squad) to
head from Monthermé to Dunkirk. It took them a couple of days, but they
eventually made it to the locality.
They were of little help on
the beaches, but arranging hiding places for those soldiers trying to escape
back to Britain was where the Résistance as a whole came into its own. It was
also where Marie made a name for herself, not just in her area, but in the
Résistance Française as a whole. It was here that her maquis gained most of its
people, as disenchanted Frenchmen and women decided that the Résistance was
where they wanted their allegiance to lie.
As they left the dismal
beaches of Dunkirk, Marie had not expected to find more Englishmen further
inland. A group led by a “Richard Talon” had missed the last boat out of
Dunkirk. Marie and her maquis helped them find shelter and to stay hidden undercover.
Often, this involved Marie using her charm to enamour herself to the Germans,
before leading them out or... “disposing” of them, as the case sometimes was.
The rest of the maquis would shuffle the Englishmen to safety, or keep a close
guard on them as Marie did what she did best.
There were times that Monsieur
Talon and Marie didn’t see eye-to-yeux. There were moments Talon and his team
were almost discovered and they blamed each other for almost losing their
cover. A couple of times, Marie was taken out into the street and questioned at
length by more senior German officers about the establishment(s) she ran, and
the clientele they served. The soldiers never had enough evidence to do
anything more serious to her, but the continual questioning and mild beatings
she received was more than enough to enflame Marie’s hate for them yet again.
Eventually, the maquis managed to get Talon and his men out of the area and
into the countryside, where they could be a little freer from the Résistance’s
all-seeing eyes.
During that time, General
Charles de Gaulles sent out radio broadcasts calling for la résistance
française to stand strong, and he had even gained the title of “Leader of All
Free Frenchmen”.
Marie’s regard for Charles de
Gaulles was eventually matched by the respect she had for the British, when she
heard the radio broadcasts from the World Service proclaiming that Britain was
going to do what Marie had hoped the French would – fight the Germans until the
bitter end, and were prepared for any eventuality.
It was a shock to Marie and
the whole Résistance movement to find out that the Nazi’s had reinstated Pierre
Lavel to lead Vichy France, and Marie decided in an instant that she would be
the one to arrange for his death. He was weakhearted in her eyes, and had caved
in to the Germans. She loathed conspirators; they betrayed her glorious country
and everything they stood for.
One of the maquis volunteered
to assassinate him at a rally to be held in 7 months time, and Marie and her
team began preparations for this to occur.
In August 1941, the Free
French and Résistance Française were attacked in a speech given on radio by the
Germans. Anyone found to be a part of either group or to be aiding them was to
be killed. Marie and her team knew that this threat was very real, but they
continued regardless. Since Dunkirk, many other Résistance groups had come to
know of Marie d’Albeau and had given her the nickname “Marie de la Garde”
(Marie of the Guard), which in turned became shortened to “Marie La Garde” (Marie
the Guard or Marie the Protector). Her alias – “La Renarde Noir” had also
entered common usage – as a name for the leader of the Resistance. Any German
officer asking for names while torturing Résistance members would receive the
same answer – La Renarde Noir. To the Résistance, La Renarde Noir became a
symbol of a Free France and hope for the future, while to the Germans and their
sympathisers, it was a name meaning impudence and revolt. Anyone who was even
vaguely aware of the existence of the Résistance was aware of La Renarde Noir.
Not long after this speech,
Marie’s colleague fired his shot at Pierre Lavel, but failed their
assassination attempt. The Germans caught and tortured him, and eventually
executed him. During torture, he had told them of La Renarde Noir, and of how
she was not only pretty, but was skilled in both gunwork and knifework. He told
them she was a crack-shot and that she had killed more men than the Résistance
could care to count, and that she was going to lead France from the Nazi’s
clutches and make it a free country once more. This set the Germans on edge.
First of all, La Renarde Noir was female,
and young, not an ex-soldier as they
had previously thought, and she was apparently just as skilled as some of their
highest trained soldiers. Though nothing was said, they were on high alert to
anyone who seemed to fit that image...but no-one stuck out as their “black
fox”, or as some of the soldiers referred to her, their “bitch of the night”.
The Hunter
Compact
Marie came across the English
soldiers once more in mid-1942. After some confusing situations, she saw their
once close-knit unit split. Frank refused to continue with Talon and the rest
of the team, declaring that there was more to the war than was visible. He was
badly injured, and he offered Marie the opportunity to stay with him and form a
partnership – working together. Marie, after a brief contemplation, said a very
sincere goodbye to Talon and the group, and joined Frank.
Marie’s life got far more complex
from that moment on. They were no longer just fighting the Germans and their
collaborators, but anyone from anywhere, if they were “not as they
seemed”. Frank and Marie made a great
team – Marie’s ability to kill in the blink of an eye, and Frank’s ability to
see the unseen. For a few months, Marie ran her Résistance team and helped
organise the “Hunter” compact that she and Frank had begun. While training up the Hunters, she was
organising the Résistance’s response to coded messages from England, forewarning
the invasion of non-Vichy France.
She trained her Hunters as she
had been trained herself, moving through the basics up to the highest level of
proficiency possible.
The Cracks
Begin to Show
While running and training the
Hunter compact, Marie found herself caring more and more about her co-leader,
and eventually, the two of them developed a relationship, and in mid-1944,
Marie found out that she was pregnant with Frank’s child...or children. At the
age of 30, Marie suddenly found herself in a position she had never expected
nor intended. She had told her mother many years beforehand that she didn’t
want a husband, or children...or...anything of that sort. Indeed, the reason
she had got on so well with Frank originally was because he didn’t treat her
like her father had treated her mother. She was given the same respect as the
soldiers Frank had fought with, and that was what had...lead to where she found
herself now.
Sucking up all the courage she
had in her body, she told Frank of her pregnancy, and the conversations seemed
to go well, up until Marie asked for the child – or children – to be kept away
from the compact. Her argument was that while she had wanted to be trained by
her father, their child(ren) might not have wanted that, and she wanted them to
have a choice - rather than to be thrust
into the dark world that their parents both worked in. Frank’s argument was
almost the exact opposite of Marie’s – that he had wanted to be trained but had
never received the chance. He wanted that, so maybe his child(ren) would too –
and the world that they worked in was the real world, the world their
child(ren) would grow up in anyway – it was just a matter of whether their eyes
were open to it or not.
The argument lasted for some
time, both sides knowing that no agreement was likely to be reached.
Eventually, Marie ended the conversation, and told him that until he accepted
her terms, she would take care of the children; away from the unit. She would
still be working under the organisation...just without the child(ren) around.
As she walked out, Marie had
no real plans of where to go or who to turn to...so she went to the one person
she knew would hopefully accept her regardless of the situation she found
herself in. At thirty years of age, Marie ran to her mother.
Esmé had given up hoping that
her daughter would return. 4 years had passed since Marie had left their
familial home and run into the twilight, so when she turned up, back on the
doorstep, flinging her arms around her, Esmé was in shock. As Marie explained
how she had let herself “finally” fall in love to an English soldier (as many
of the (albeit slightly younger) girls had done), Esmé found herself patting
her daughter on the shoulder, and even offering up suggestions of help and aid
when she told her she was pregnant. Esmé, to an extent, was glad. Glad that her
daughter had finally stopped her foolish wargames and was becoming a woman; the
woman she should have been from the start, had her father not corrupted her
with his tales and instruments of war.
It was with her mother by her
side that Marie gave birth on the 28th March, 1945. She stayed with
her two daughters, Hélène (Heh-leh-nn) and Jeanne (Zhe-enn), who were
non-identical twins, until October, when she left them with her mother, so she
could make a very specific trip to Paris, as Pierre Lavel was being tried for
treason. She hadn’t forgotten the price her country had paid during his
leadership, nor her friend who had been tortured and shot after the failed
assassination.
Reverting back to her
Résistance days, she climbed atop the Governmental buildings and aimed a small
stiletto knife. As the firing squad carrying out the execution were told to
ready themselves, so did Marie. A fraction of a second before the order to
shoot was given, Marie threw the knife as she had so expertly been taught to by
her father. She saw it hit its mark – Lavel’s heart and she watched as the
conspirator began to fall just as the guns fired. A vengeful smile on her face,
La Renarde Noir left the roof silently, in the knowledge that justice had been
done.
Making her way through the
busy streets of Paris, Marie headed back to her mother’s, via a detour to the
Hunter’s base. The air was thick with tension and as she walked in she could
feel it, stifling her. The power shift was subtle, but it was definitely there.
Marie’s job became purely training the recruits – nothing more, nothing less.
Frank barely spoke to her, and Marie hardly ever intentionally got near him. It
hurt her that things had got to that stage...but she wasn’t about to rescind
her ultimatum – not until he accepted that it had to be that way.
Over the months, things got
worse and worse – Marie having to sometimes struggle to get things heard that
she had no issues with saying previously. Marie – partly by choice and partly
due to Frank’s decisions – ended up working further and further afield, Tibet
and Bolivia were two places she was “sent” during her years in the compact.
When Marie wasn’t away from
France, she spent her time at her childhood home, with her mother and
daughters, learning how to be a
mother. Marie had never been particularly maternal, and she had never expected
to need to be. She saw her mother treating them as her own, and tried to
follow, and to bend her hardened shell into something more soft and malleable.
But she also had to learn to change her persona in the flick of an eye. One day
she could be the doting mother, kissing injured hands and legs, and the next
have to be a stealthy, ruthless killer to get rid of those who were a risk to
the world. Marie d’Albeau had to morph into La Renarde Noir...and back again.
Marie knew better than to
think that Frank would leave well alone. They ran the Hunter compact together;
they both had their own spy network and people to tap into...and that didn’t
bother her. She, in her heart of hearts, wanted him to be a part of his
daughter’s lives. But she couldn’t...she didn’t know why she was so vehement
about it...but she couldn’t let him
impose the lifestyle they lead on to their daughters. She spent many nights
sleepless, unable to stop herself from wondering if she was in the wrong, and
whether she was being cruel or unkind...or just plain nasty to the man who had
once been her lover, and nothing could change that.
But things changed in 1951.
Marie returned from Bolivia to find everything in a mess. Marie grabbed the
nearest Hunter to find out what had happened and was told there had been an
attempt made on Frank’s life. The cell had had a huge influx of POWs and
refugees from the war’s end, and it seemed as if though one of them had done
the deed. Marie rushed to find Frank, and – though he seemed as if he would
survive fairly well, he was ranting and raving about something or another. He
had been getting steadily more paranoid about everything, and this seemed to be
his tipping point. Everyone and everything was in the firing line, and Frank
just screeched at all of them to get out – the rest of the group scarpered, and
left Marie and Frank alone. Marie tried to soothe him and find ways of dealing
with the situation, but he refused to listen, and with heavy heart, Marie also
left him, to rant and rage alone.
The rest of the cell were
stood outside, waiting, and they seemed to perk up as Marie stood in the centre
– Marie feeling almost as if she were back in charge; respected and considered
important to the very heart and soul of the compact.
“Renarde,” called one of their
number, “Qu'est-ce qui va se passer maintenant?” (“Vixen, what’s going to
happen now?”)
Marie sighed. “Nous faisons ce
qu'il demande.” (“We’ll do as he asks.”) She said, halfheartedly. “C'est fini, mes amis.” (“It’s over, my
friends.”)
There were shouts and gasps. A
lone voice called out across the furore.
“Mais vous pouvez exécuter la compacte, Renarde, non? Démarrez ailleurs
- de faire cavalier seul?” (“But you could run the compact, Vixen, no? Start up
somewhere else – go it alone?”)
Marie shook her head. “Non.”
(“No.”) And then, with pursed lips, she posited, “Peut-être que c'est pour le
mieux que cela s'estompe à rien, et devient juste une autre partie de
l'histoire de la France.” (“Maybe it is for the best that this fades to
nothing, and becomes just another part of the history of France.”) And then she
added, “Partie de l'histoire du monde.” (“Part of the history of the world.”)
She looked at them all, and
then said “Go. Aller. Gehen. Vivez vos vies.” (“Go. Live your lives.”)
As the area cleared, Marie
sighed, took a deep breath and headed back to her mother’s house. She moved the
family away, to Malta – a small place, quiet and serene. She was called on by
those who had previously been in the compact only in the direst of need, and
they were often in some official capacity as Governmental officers or UN
ambassadors. She left her daughters in her mother’s care while she was away,
and always returned when the chance came.
That was...until she was asked
to go to Rwanda in 1959, to help calm the “Wind of Destruction”. A message was
sent to her while out there. A message with just three words.
“You’re needed - Frank.”
Marie’s life was about to get
a whole lot more stranger, in a whole barrage of ways.
La Renarde Noir was about to
come out of “retirement”.
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