by Smith, Skye
Her eyes changed from hard to loving again. "Bar the door, and dump your gear and follow me to the kitchen. I will make you something to eat. There is some left over veal and some day old cake."
The kitchen was warm, which was a blessing. Daniel sat at the side board and ignored the cake because the veal was so delicious. It was gently spiced with pepper and something else, something he did not recognize.
"Clove," she told him. "It is the latest pepper seed from the Dutch East Indies."
Daniel savoured the taste and had to smirk. What Britta had called the Dutch East Indies had just two years ago been the Portuguese East Indies, but that had all changed when the Portuguese fleet had been sunk or captured off the south coast of England along with the Spanish Armada. How quickly the political map of the world was changing.
"Wake up, your bath is ready." It was Britta's voice from off in the distance. He lifted his head off his plate. The kitchen was aswirl with young women in their nightdresses, and warmth, and steam. The women all moved towards him and impatiently began undressing him. The sooner they could get him clean the sooner they could go back to their own beds. The two maids tugged at the sleeves of his woolen vest and threw the garment into a growing pile of washing.
"Is that the silk shirt I gave you last time you were here?" Britta said accusingly. "It's ruined. It's filthy. We will never get it white again no matter how hard we scrub it. The whole side of it is stained."
"That stain saved my life, love," he told her. "It allowed us to pull the ball and the corruption out of the wound, and cleanly. But yes, the shirt did get a bit blood stained."
Britta lifted the shirt and looked at his skin under the stain. This gave the maids a fine view of his manhood. No worries there as he was too tired to be cocky. "Well at least the wound was neatly stitched," she turned him so her maids could see the wound. "With the tincture of time the scar will disappear ... almost." She pulled the silk over his head and led him to the large basin in the center of the kitchen. "I'll find you another shirt."
"Silk, please," he replied as he stepped into the basin. He stood there, as still as he could while one maid passed pots of warm water to the other, who trickled it down him until he was wet all over. Then Britta began rubbing the dampened filth from his skin with some clean rags. "Oye, I'll wash that part myself," he complained, but not too loudly.
Once there was no more need to pour water over him, Britta sent her two maids back to bed. "Pretty girls. They look like sisters," Daniel told her once they were gone. "And what does their mother want you to do for them?"
"You behave yourself around them."
"Love, I'm married to your mother, and to your aunt. I have no choice but to behave myself whenever I am around you." He thought his words would brighten her mood but she turned glum and thoughtful.
She paused in her attempt to dry him on a clean towel and told him more about the maids. "Their father offered them in bondage to secure his debts. I bought the debt to save them from having to work it off on their backs."
"Well good for you, love. So now I suppose you are obliged to protect their virtue until you can find them husbands. What about your own search for a husband? Have you chosen a dream man for yourself yet?"
She passed him a linen sheet to wrap himself in to keep him warm as she showed him to his bed. "I chose my dream man when I was seventeen ... only it didn't work out."
"Ahhh, ... the day we lost a ship with all hands. He was on the ship." A third of the men of Wellenhay had been lost in one sinking, including the captain, who had been Daniel's older brother and Venka's husband.
"I had such dreams, such wonderful dreams," she said as she blew out all the candle lamps except for the one she was carrying. "I was going to seduce him until I was carrying his child, and then we would go off together and I would help him in his work as our clan's factor in Rotterdam."
"But I was the clan's factor in ... oh... Ohh!"
"The ship sank while you were away, and then my mother claimed her right to be your second wife ... just so she could keep her position on the village council."
"But."
"It tore me apart to see you in her bed. Why do you think I moved to Cambridge and took a job slinging ale at The George Inn." She made sure all of the fires were dampened and then she opened the kitchen door with a bang.
"But."
"But what. But Venka was just your second wife so you were still free to choose a first. Do you really think I could do that to her. Oooh ... MEN!"
"But I didn't have any idea." It was exactly the wrong thing to say and caused the door to be slammed shut even harder than it had been opened. "I mean when I left for Rotterdam to be the factor, you were just a leggy girl. The age difference by itself ..."
She stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned around to face him so that her candle lamp would light his face. "The age difference was perfect. You are ten years older than me, and had a career, a position, and savings. I was young enough to fill our lives with many healthy babies. Instead you married my mother who was ten years older than you and beyond child bearing."
"I had no choice in that," he said softly, trying to calm her. "It was by tradition. I was brother-in-law to a new widow. Venka claimed me, and I had no good grounds to refuse her."
"You could have told her that you wanted to marry me."
"But I didn't know..." he saw her arm fly out and ducked just in time, but the glass of the candle lamp smashed against the kitchen door behind him. "... I was an innocent about women until I married Venka and Sarah." He blocked a kick aimed at his crotch. "Honestly I didn't know you were attracted to me." She was getting angrier with every word. He had to think of something to say that would placate her, "Umm... you were so gorgeous, so divinely gorgeous. It was beyond reason that you could ever be interested in a lout like me."
She took two quick steps towards him and pressed him back against the door and then pressed her body against his. There was nothing between them but thin linen and she rubbed her mounds against him. "Oh Daniel, what am I to do with you. Don't your realize, no you probably don't. I have yet to meet a woman who doesn't want you from the moment she meets you. They want to drag you to their beds, all of them. I don't know what it is about you, but there is something, something a woman can feel when she is close to you, and then looks into your eyes. We all want you, even if it is only for the night."
He pushed her slowly away from him so he could regain his balance. He stepped forward from the door and out of the broken glass. "That is nonsense. You are all embarrassed and upset and it is making you say silly things."
She heard the crunch of glass in the dark hallway and she pulled him along until there was no more crunching. "Silly. You mean silly because I want you so much, or silly because so does every other woman."
"Exactly."
"Bull Shit. I listen to other women talk about you once you have left the room. If you heard the things they say, your face go crimson and your ears would shrivel. It's not just men who feel the stirrings of carnal lust down below. I must listen to how they want to tie you to their beds and then ravish you over and over until you can no longer walk, and then lie curled into your arms forever."
"Love, I've got to lie down. I've been on the go since five this morning... ugh ... yesterday morning. You've spoken your heart to me, finally, and I am glad of it, but if you want to open your heart any more, it must be in bed. No ... I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I mean, you sitting on the bed and me stretched out."
"My big bed already has a bed warmer, remember," She told him over her shoulder as she led him through the dark house by feel, since they no longer had a candle. Luckily the front stairs had more light from a large window. She eventually stopped in front of an upstairs room. "This room is yours. We'll talk more in the morning."
He expected a good night kiss. For the two years he had been her step-father she had always given him a good night kiss. Instead she left him without so much as a peck. Insid
e the room he didn't bother lighting a candle, he just slipped between the sheets, chose one of the six pillows to sleep with and pushed the rest onto the floor. What was it with women and putting so many pillows on a bed that there wasn’t' room for a body to stretch out?
Sleep grabbed him almost immediately, but soon after he was woken by the sounds of humping in the next room, and kept awake by the moans of a lad reaching for heaven. Since he wouldn't get any sleep until the lad was drained, he lit his candle lantern and picked up the small whisk broom from next to the wash stand and took it downstairs to clean up the broken glass from Britta's lantern before someone cut their foot on it.
* * * * *
Femke was pushing at his back. He slapped at the mare's nose. She pushed again and then spoke. Spoke? He turned over and opened his eyes. It was Britta's maid, the one who had poured water over him. What was she saying? He took a deep breath and held it and tried to concentrate.
"So there is some hot mint tea, and this mornings bread with butter. I've laid some clothes out for you that Miss Britta chose. She is waiting for you down in the library." She said all this with a naughty smirk. The sunrise colors coming through the window made her young skin glow.
"Tell her I want to sleep some more. It was cruel of her to have me woken at sun up after the day I put in yesterday, but don't tell her that."
"Sun up. It's a strange sun that rises in the west," she said drawing the drapes closed.
"Sunset," he said as he rolled out of the bed and stood beside the maid so he could see out the window. She backed away from his nude body and said excuse-y things as she made for the door. "Why did she let me sleep the day away? I've got things to do, had things to do." He got no answer because the maid had shut the door behind her.
He splashed some water on his face and hair and decided not to shave, not yet. Instead he threw on the clothes that were neatly set out over a trunk ... they were the London dress togs she had bought for him the last time he had visited. He carried the tray down the stairs with him so he could eat the bread as he walked. It was this morning's bread but it was cold and already going stale so he dunked it in his mint tea to warm it and soften it as he ate. The butter from the bread ended up floating in the tea. Green tea with floating butter wasn't half bad.
When he reached the library, both he and Britta spoke at once.
"Why did you let me sleep so long. I wanted to meet with John Pym today and tell him exactly what I thought of his general, Essex."
"Why didn't you shave before you dressed? Go back up and shave else I'm not taking you anywhere."
They stared at each other. He lost. "Sorry, love. It's just that I ..."
"Wanted to find out what was going on with the armies and the fighting all over the kingdom," she finished for him. "Well there was no sense in waking you because Essex is returning to London today and all the parliamentarians were gathered on the town wall to cheer him through the gate."
"Cheer him. He just proved how incompetent he was. Because of his timidity, not only does parliament not have the king in chains, but three thousand good English sons were lost."
"Three thousand," she said in shock. "But the official news was three hundred."
"Three thousand all together from both sides. No one seemed to want to kill the bloody nobles who caused this mess, so the dead were mostly louts like me. Younger than me. Just lads most of them. Bloody nobs."
"May I suggest that you speak of these things in a quiet voice and only to men you trust. Essex is the hero of the day, so speaking against him will not win you any friends, and may turn friends into enemies."
"But Essex is an ass. The rank and file call him Assex. He is ..."
"Even these walls have ears," she interrupted and dropped her voice to a whisper. "So tell me. Why are you in London if not to propose marriage to me."
Her jibe made him sit down beside her and take her hand but he held back the urge to propose anything. That would have made life very complicated within their clan. "I am on a mission for the villages of Holland."
"I thought you said you came on the Cambridge coach, not a ship from Rotterdam."
"The other Holland. The low parishes to the north of The Wash. Their earl is dead, and they wish a delay to the confirmation of his son as the new earl so that they can take back their common land."
She leaped to her feet and had a hard time keeping her voice to a whisper. "The Earl of Holland cannot be dead. I dined at Holland House just a few days ago and Henry Rich sat next to me."
"Not the Earl of Holland, the Earl of Lindsey. He died of his wounds from the battle." There was no need to tell her that it was his rifle ball which had wounded the earl. "His son, Lord Willoughby, is a prisoner being held for a prisoner exchange. The villages need his exchange to be delayed while they grab back the land his father stole from them."
"Ah, I see. So there is news from Wellenhay that you have not told me. Tell me all of it, and tell it to me now."
For the next half hour he spoke and she listened. During her stay in London she had become quite skilled at listening to powerful men. She had earned a reputation for being wise beyond her years by simply nodding in all the right places without interrupting them. Not interrupting them was a skill their own wives had yet to learn.
When he finally ran out of words, her first comment was, "So finally Teesa stopped struggling against where her gifts were leading her. It's about time. She is too lithe and comely to compete at men's work. So the Huntress is now a Seer. There is a certain symmetry to that, don't you think?" When he didn't answer she continued. "So how can we stop Lord Willoughby from being exchanged? I've met the man only once. He is an experienced soldier so a favourite of the king, and a handsome rake, so a favourite of the queen. Parliament could likely exchange just him for all of the men that the king is holding."
"I thought perhaps with your Lord Admiral's help ..." He meant Robert Rich Senior, the Earl of Warwick. The grandfather of the lad who had shared her bed last night.
"He is away at The Downs arranging for the summer fleet to stand down," she replied. "What about his brother Henry. As the Earl of Holland he may see this as an opportunity to grab a few of Lindsey's manors for himself, and if not the manors themselves, then perhaps any treasure they may hold."
"You are becoming far too politically cunning for your angelic face."
"Hush, and don't ever say that again. Not even in jest. Powerful men all fear cunning women."
"Sorry. So do we, er ... you suggest this to Henry directly?" he asked. She really did have an angelic face and a smile that could warm any heart. For a moment he lost himself in that smile and was so tempted to bend closer and kiss it.
"Don't be silly," she said pulling away from the kiss she wanted so much. "Henry is a courtier and therefore has little trust in the schemes of others. No, he must think it was his own idea. And his voice alone is not enough. Which others of the Reform Party would have a natural interest in this? Men that are in London now and owe you a favour or two."
"How would I know who is in London. I just got here. Last week everyone was out in the counties with their regiments."
"But Essex and the army are back in London now, and the rest of them will be hovering around him. Two hours ago I saw my neighbour arrive home to joyous hugs from Betty and the girls."
"Oliver is home? Well he owes me a favour. I handed that devil Colonel Lunsford over to him so he could be exchanged for Oliver's cousin Valentine. In the past he has always taken the side of the fensmen against the lords of drainage."
"Who else?" she asked.
"Edward Montagu. He was the one who chartered our small ships on behalf of the Norfolk trainbands. I have to speak to him anyway because he wants to expand the length of their patrols, and we will soon have four more ships for him to charter."
"Good choice. His father has died and he has just been confirmed as the next Earl of Manchester. Actually any of the six men we helped to rescue from the king's clutches at Westmin
ster will do, for they owe us their freedom. There is a dinner being given in Essex's honor tonight at Warwick house. They will all be on the guest list."
"And are you on the guest list?" he asked.
She put her hands under her breasts and lifted them up until they almost popped out of the French bodice she was wearing. "You don't think I wore this tit shelf just for you, did you. The lady of the house has asked me to be one of the hostesses."
"But will they allow you to bring me as a guest?"
"Of course not, but since when has that stopped me. We will just go in the back way across the grounds. Dear Robert has had a new gate cut through his wall into my tiny back garden so now I have direct access into the grounds of Warwick House. Go and shave and make yourself pretty while I go next door and welcome Oliver home."
* * * * *
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The Pistoleer - Brentford by Skye Smith Copyright 2014
Chapter 10 - A Hero's return to London in November 1642
By the time that Daniel had scraped his face, or rather the eldest of the sister maids had scraped his face, and then dressed again, this time more carefully with the help of both sisters, he heard voices down on the ground floor. With his long blonde hair slicked back and tied with a velvet ribbon, and with a scent of clove about his clothes, he went down to Britta.
Oliver was with Britta, but when neither man stepped forward to shake hands she told Daniel, "I have explained the situation with Lord Willoughby to dearest Ollie and he has kindly offered to help us delay his release." This forced Daniel to offer his hand.
The member of parliament for Cambridge not only shook Daniel's hand but squeezed his upper arm as he said, "Danny, you look fit. I feared for your health when I heard that Prince Rupert had circled back and attacked our supply wagons in Kineton."
This told Daniel that Oliver had been speaking with John Hampden, who had been in charge of the army's rear guard. "So, Ollie," Daniel said, "is Valentine safe. Did the king exchange him for Colonel Lunsford?" This was the test of Teesa's powers as a seer. In her vision she had seen Lunsford untied and running free.