“You mentioned the bodies in the streets. I saw a few on my way here. No one picks them up?”
“We have better things to do, and I won’t force my men to be in contact with corpses.” Urian leaned closer and whispered. “It is already hard enough to hold them here when all the institutions collapse. Despite the threat of death sentence, desertions could happen any day. I need…”
An uproar interrupted their conversation. Urian and Josselin, followed by guards, hurried towards the tumult. On a square, two groups of men faced each other. The men of one group wore aprons and stained leather overalls. Their hands clenched on cleavers, large meat tenderizers, and all sorts of knives. Like animals in a joust, they tautened the muscles of their arms for intimidation. Some had bloodshot eyes, probably the consequence of a burning fever or alcohol. Josselin would not have wanted to cross the path of a single one of them by night. Despite their fierce look, they were outnumbered by their less impressive but not less hostile opponents.
“Poisoners!” one man from the group of commoners yelled. “You spread the miasmas through the city with your hanging carcasses!”
“I will make a carcass out of you, fishmonger! We will see how long it will take until you rot on one of my hooks!” one of the butchers replied, raising a hook high.
“According to the old laws, no butcher or retailer of meat is allowed to hang up meat or sell it over the counter under a time of pestilence,” a commoner exclaimed.
A butcher snorted and stepped forward in defiance. “You only claim that because you can’t afford my products, woolman. Everyone know that the miasmas are stuck in the wool. We butchers and tanners only dress in leather, and look how healthy we are!” The man’s words were greeted with growls of approval.
“Enough to kick your sheepish ass!” one of the tanners added towards the woolman.
“You tripled your prices. Starver!” a commoner shouted.
“Calm down!” Urian yelled. His bass voice thundered and rolled over the tumult, imposing silence. The commander motioned to his men to canalize the crowd. “A bloodbath won’t solve our problems. It is true that exposed, rotting meat will spread disease…” The butchers and tanners turned their threatening weapons towards Urian. “But, it is also true that, without meat, we would starve.” Urian swiveled towards the commoners. “Besides, how many of you here depend on the production of skin? What will happen with the shoemakers, the saddlers, the girdlers once the skins ran short? You need to keep your businesses running. We can’t turn on each other because we don’t know what tomorrow will be made of. Now, go home and do your best with what you have to hold these days.” Urian made a sign to his men to disperse the crowd. “And you too, Rowley.”
The butcher at the front glanced at Urian. He let a dribble of spit slowly fall onto the ground and walked back. Escorted by the guards, the commoners and butchers returned towards their respective areas.
Urian came back to Josselin. “This happens nearly every day when we don’t have to face vigilantes.” They walked back to the gatehouse. “We already had to make some examples. My men were trained to protect and survey, now they are trained to kill.” Urian pointed up to the battlements. Two corpses hung from a gibbet. “Fewer tried to flee after that.”
Josselin could well imagine that it was dissuasive. Though, if he were chased by a group of tanners, he may want to take his chance over the wall anyway. “I will talk with the schools and sort this out,” Josselin said to Urian. “You can’t keep these children here.”
Urian shrugged, showing that the children were the last of his preoccupations. Josselin took his leave and headed home.
On his way, he passed in front of a temple. Under the mass of devotees, the doors were blocked open. People knelt across the threshold and up to the yard. A low mumbled litany resounded from the inside. The priest’s preach pierced above the sound, only interrupted by coughs.
“And we will confess and make repentance for our sins as we beg for the relief from the gods’ wrath. Oh, gods have mercy on us! See our acts of charity and the purity of our faith…”
May the gods hear you, Josselin thought. He recited his own prayers the rest of the way.
The shutters had been drawn, but a lantern glowed above Khorkina House’s threshold. Josselin opened the front door. No one stood there to welcome him. He walked in the direction of the kitchen and heard the conversation of Alis with one of her maids.
“…and then she told me that the best thing to do against the plague is a good sweating. Then you should apply the shaved chicken butt directly on the buboes,” the maid, Josselin recognized to be Jane, said.
“A dead chicken?” Alis asked.
“Not dead! Alive.”
“Oh, so besides being covered with those lumps, you would also be covered with chicken poo,” Alis exclaimed. She was dropping sliced vegetables into a pot hanging over the fire while Jane kneaded dough on the table. Alis turned and saw him. “Good evening, my lord.”
“My lord.” Jane rectified the hemp coif she wore over her auburn hair and fixed the knot under her chin.
“Good evening, Alis. Jane.” He cocked his head towards the maid in a greeting and sat. “At least you both are avoiding sad thoughts.”
“Well, my lord, I don’t know anymore what to believe. Every day comes a new remedy,” Alis said.
“And each as ineffective as the previous one. You shouldn’t lose your time on that, even less your money. Where is Pierce?” Josselin asked.
“He is in the brewery, my lord. He should be here soon for dinner. Will you eat in your room?” Alis said.
“Yes. I am exhausted. It would be very kind of you to send me something.” Josselin rose. “I know I repeat myself but, avoid leaving the house as much as you can. Things turn nasty outside.”
“We won’t, my lord. Pray the gods that all this soon comes to an end.”
“Yes. Pray the gods,” Josselin sighed.
Weary, he left the kitchen, walked through the halls and up the stairs towards his chambers. Once inside, he closed the carved oaken door behind him, hoping to leave all his worries behind until the next day. Sweet herbs had been strewn in the corners and on the windowsills to ward off the miasma. Though warm and well-lit by candles and a fire, his bedchamber had never felt so cold as he had no one to share it with.
“Where are you, my love?” he whispered to himself.
Josselin checked the locks at the windows by precaution before he sat on his chair by the table. The board was always neat and ordered. Despite that he was a minister, Josselin had no taste for paperwork. Now that the disease had burst, his duties had been reduced to nothingness. He was observing the red and green paintings on the walls when Pierce entered the room with a tray.
“Good evening, my lord,” Pierce said, placing the tray in front of him. His steward removed the dome, uncovering a tepid cinnamon brewet served with a slice of bread.
“Good evening, Pierce. Is everything all right in the brewery?” Josselin took his spoon and searched for the meat pieces in the sauce.
“Everything is fine, my lord. We emptied the tanks and covered the material with cloths.”
The last thing Josselin wanted was to attract into his house parties like the one he had seen this afternoon. Therefore, he had stopped the production of ale and removed and cleaned anything that could spread the sweet smell of malt.
“Did you find an occupation for Linet?” Josselin asked.
“Yes, my lord. She now helps with the laundry.” Pierce looked down and cleared his throat.
“But?” Josselin asked, raising an eyebrow.
“But, forgive me, my lord, I am not certain the girl has ever worked in a household,” Pierce said, ill at ease. “Don’t misunderstand me, my lord,” Pierce hurried to say. “The girl works hard and doesn’t complain. Only, she doesn’t show much skills.”
“In times like these, it is important to give anyone a chance, Pierce.”
“Of course, my lord.” Pierce bo
wed and left the room.
If I can save someone from a certain death, I won’t hesitate, Josselin thought, gnawing on his bread. He longed for the next day. He wanted to visit the school. What he had seen with the children was beyond understanding. Never would the royal couple tolerate such a thing. Someone had taken a cruel initiative, and he would rectify it. He didn’t have the power of Pembroke or Mauger, but he was a minister and a Khorkina from Millhaven.
Josselin rose, added a log to the fire, and undressed. Though it had been a while now since the loss of his arm, he still had difficulties with his clothes. However, by pride, he refused any help from his household. Kilda had helped him. Now that he was alone, he had to struggle a bit more. He lay down on the bed under the covers. They were cold and rough. Overworked, the maid sometimes forgot to pass with the warming pan. A cold bed for a lonely man. He knew that, by now, the king’s party should have reached Embermire. Maybe they were on their way home. Josselin wondered why they had never received news. The aviary was still functional. Had something happened?
The door of his chamber opened slowly. Linet tiptoed inside and closed the door. Josselin barely recognized her. She had bathed and wore a heavy gown. Her long, blond hair fell loose on each side of her head. She was more than comely; she was beautiful. The girl drew nearer, her face low.
“It is late, Linet, and you shouldn’t be here.” It was an obvious statement. If the girl wanted to pretend to be a maid, she must conform to the rules of a household. “If you have something to tell me, it can wait tomorrow morning.”
The girl stopped only a few steps from the bed. “I wanted to thank my lord for bringing me here.”
“I am glad you enjoy your stay. Now, please, you should leave,” Josselin said, feeling always more uneasy. He pulled the blanket higher on his shoulder to hide his stump.
Linet unlaced her gown and let it drop to the floor. Josselin gaped at her naked body. Her pink buds and wheat blond curls contrasted on her pale skin. The girl stood motionless, presenting herself as some kind of gift. Though the vision awoke his senses, he refused the idea and wanted to make her understand that it wasn’t what he expected of her. She kept her face down, probably to avoid looking at him. Why would such a ravishing girl offer herself to a monster, anyway?
“I…I didn’t bring you here for such things,” Josselin stuttered. “I won’t force myself on you.”
Instead of the relief he had expected to see on her face, he saw discontent. She moved onto the bed and sat astride him.
“Doesn’t my lord like what he sees?” she asked with a soft voice.
Of course, he did. It wasn’t the question. Her body didn’t carry marks or scars of a harsh life in the slums. Despite what he had thought, she was neither skinny nor plump. Her hair was dense and healthy. It is not you, it is me. Josselin shamed of his appearance. At least his wife shared his scar. His wife. This was wrong. He couldn’t…
She laid a hand on his chest. Her palm was soft. Too soft for the slums. Her caress was gentle and comforting. Josselin stared at her breasts. It was an eternity since he had seen such a womanly bosom. Under the sheets, his member grew and grazed against her thigh. She gave him a lewd smile.
“My lord seems to want more.”
She took his hand and put it on one of her breasts. Still hesitant, he cupped it gently. It was firm and smooth. His hard-on demanded more. If he carried on, it would be too late. And what if someone of his household learned about it? It wasn’t worth the risk. Yet, the touch was entrancing. He clenched the breast harder. For every instant that he wanted to bury himself inside the girl, Kilda’s face came to his mind. You left, Josselin thought. And we haven’t been intimate for a while. He knew the excuses were lame, but a part of him took them for granted. When he was leaning over to kiss the girl’s nipple, she slipped from his grip. Linet bent down and reached for him under the covers. Aghast but impatient, Josselin watched her place both her hands around his cock before she settled her mouth over the head. Her tongue flicked and teased, spread flat for long, lustful licks, before she forced the whole down her throat.
No lady would lower herself to such behavior, Josselin realized. Only whores practiced these things. The girl was nothing but a mere whore. At the notion, his guilt lessened. It was wrong, dishonorable, but not uncommon for a married man to enjoy the company of whores. Besides, he might be dead tomorrow, and she was skilled with her tongue. He placed his hand on her head and let her work on him.
Only a whore. And he who thought he had rescued a maiden. A part of him felt fooled. Anger took over his heart. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head up. Raising from under his blankets, he shoved her to the side and lay down on top of her. Surprised, the girl struggled, pushing him back with both hands. Her body was soft like silk. Josselin didn’t insist much before she spread her legs and nailed her heels on his bottom. He relished the instant, his cock pressing against her entrance, and forced his shaft throbbing with need inside her heat. The walls grasped him. He gaped. She gave a faint moan of pain. It felt delicious. Maybe she had been pricey? His hips thrust hard, savagely taking what he craved as he ignored her soft cries. He lowered his head, took one of her breasts in his mouth, and sucked avidly at it. He gazed at her face. Her delicate features filled him with remorse. For an instant, he feared he was really hurting her, until he heard her giggle.
“Yes, my lord. You’re so huge. Ravish me.”
A whore. And she still played with him. Her gross words infuriated him as much as he felt humiliated to have been caught in her trap. He should send her away. His shame struggled against his lust. However, the tension in his loins was too beguiling for him to stop. He moved his face in front of hers.
“Shut your mouth,” he hissed with anger.
The girl gave him a lewd stare and kissed him fully, nibbling his lower lip.
Josselin pulled his mouth off her with repulsion. “Don’t touch my lips,” he exclaimed.
To protect his face, he placed his hand on her mouth and held her head down. You disgust me. When he realized he lay on his wife’s side of the bed, he turned his head to the other side and closed his eyes. He couldn’t stop. His body craved relief. He hastened the pace of his stabbing, hoping he would split her apart, and thrust towards climax. At the last second, he pulled away and burst onto the sheets. His limbs insensate, he collapsed. Struck by abhorrence, Josselin lay prostrate.
“Get out.”
The girl picked up her clothes and left the room in silence. He heard the door close. As much as I disgust myself. Josselin crept against the bedhead. With his hand, he swept clean the bedtable. Porcelain shattered in pieces onto the floor.
28
Selen couldn’t see his hands, let alone the horse galloping in front of him. All around, the snow rose in clouds and met the one falling from the sky. Charged as a mule with all he could have strapped around him, Selen barely held the reins. His horse had to find its way by himself. Not only had they strayed away from the right path, but they had lost all hope to find it again. Now, if they had a bit of common sense, the bandits wouldn’t follow them. A blind ride on a plateau in the light of a half-moon was suicidal. Selen wondered if Ahanu and Eliot still held on their mounts. His horse dashed to the side. Selen crouched on his horse and smelled the resin of a fir. Needles combed his hair. They needed to stop their stampede before they reached a ravine. He glanced behind him and saw pale, dancing glows in the distance. Torches. The bandits tracked them down. The ground sloped down towards a darker mass. A scream rose from ahead.
“Stop!” Lissandro shouted. Selen saw someone get up beside a horse and thought it was his friend. He drew rein.
“Are you all right?” Selen asked.
“I got swept off by a branch,” Lissandro responded. “But I’m all right. I need a break.”
A rider cantered back towards them. “We’re almost there,” Louis said.
“Where?” Selen asked.
“If we reach the woods, they won’t find us,”
Louis responded.
“We will need to dismount, but we can cover our traces with the snow from the branches and brush away the rest,” Selen heard Ahanu say.
“We won’t see a thing in there,” Lissandro complained. “I already can’t see you.”
“If you give me a minute, I could at least saddle my horse and attach the bags,” Selen said.
“You carry your saddle?” Folc asked behind him.
“I need it. I carry most of the supply.”
“Be quick,” Louis said. “We need to go. I can see a spot of light behind us.”
While Lissandro got back on his mount, Selen saddled his horse and fastened the bags he had carried until now. In the darkness, it took him more time he had counted. He mounted and followed his companions into the forest.
Once under the trees, they dismounted. Heading eastwards, they followed each other in a line, trusting their hearing. Ahanu, who had experience of the forest by night, led the way. Their horses’ bridles tied to someone else’s saddle, Folc and Askjell walked at the rear. Folc knocked the branches above his head while Askjell swept their traces with the help of a flat fir branch. The forest was silent. Flapping wings passed over Selen’s head. He didn’t want to know if there were lynxes or wolves around. One danger was enough.
They left the forest behind. Still on top of the plateau, they followed a ledge in the moonlight. No light appeared behind them. There was no need to get on their mounts again. The uneven ground didn’t lend itself to it either. Yet, they had to carry on not to freeze. When they would halt, Selen would take out his gloves from his bag. For now, he tugged on his sleeves and clenched his fingers. Selen looked around him and counted seven persons. They all had made it through. They even had a horse each, which meant that one of the boys had stolen a horse at the inn.
Light from Aphelion 2 - Tears of Winter Page 28