A Hyacinth for His Hideousness

by Tharah Meester

  “Yes,” he nodded tersely. “Of course.” He followed the lad and sat down on his side of the bed to change clothes. It was chilly in here. He coughed into a hand. Due to his body having a weak immune system, he had the burdensome proclivity of catching every cold which anyone in his immediate surroundings contracted.

  “Mr Wiplay says we’ll study together every morning. Two hours. That means I’ll be at home the remainder of the day.”

  “Hmm.” He put on his white-linen nightshirt.

  “That means I have plenty of time to help you with the matter concerning the secret society.”

  “Hyacinth, I don’t like the idea of you...“

  “No, listen to me! I have a sharp mind! Mr Wiplay says so too. Ask him if you don’t believe me!”

  “As if that’s what it’s about!” He was annoyed that Hyacinth didn’t seem to comprehend that it was a matter of his safety. And of course, he wouldn’t want to admit it openly. “You will not get involved!”

  “And what if you can only solve Dimitri’s murder with my help?”

  “That’s abundantly arrogant,” he wheezed in joyless laughter and slipped his legs under the covers.

  “But what if it is so?”

  “Then my brother’s murder must remain a mystery forever!” Even if not knowing drags me into the abyss.

  Hyacinth fell onto the pillows with a growl. “People ought to talk less about your appearance and more about your stubbornness. It’s so much worse than anything else.”

  Gavrila was glad to be lying with his back turned to the lad so that Hyacinth was unable to see the aggrieved facial expression creeping onto his face. He lowered his eyelids and closed them to go to sleep. Or at least attempting to.

  But as every night, since Leznijek, he lay awake. The few times when he fell in a half-slumber could be counted on one hand. They afforded little rest. His lack of sleep made the rings under his eyes grow darker and uglier with each day. But what difference did one more flaw make when the remaining parts of a person were so afflicted with hideousness? Right. It made none at all.

  Chapter 4

  When the turret clock struck the sixth hour, Hyacinth yawned widely and rolled himself out of the warm and much too comfortable bed where he would have gladly lingered a while longer. It was still pitch-dark outside.

  “Shall I accompany you?” Gavrila asked in a surprisingly clear voice that didn’t sound as if he had just awoken.

  Hyacinth cringed then shook his head while he stepped into his trousers. “Not necessary. It’s only a few metres.”

  Despite these words, Gavrila raised himself up and, sitting on the side of the bed with his back turned to him, rubbed his face. “Shall I make you breakfast?”

  “No, thanks. Mr Wiplay says you learn better on an empty stomach.”

  “Is that so?” Gavrila mumbled with a mocking tone. ”If only you would listen to me as well as you do to Seymour.”

  Hastily Hyacinth buttoned his shirt. “Go and ask him if he’ll tutor you,” he teased his husband with a grin.

  “In what?”

  “Oh, he will make sure to give you an appropriate lecture.”

  “And that would be?”

  “The taming of J. Hyacinth Ardenovic,” he announced ceremoniously.

  The muted, dark tone which his husband emitted sounded suspiciously like a laugh. It caused Hyacinth to pause. Had he really laughed? By no stretch of the imagination could he conceive of it and dismissed what he heard as a hallucination. Apparently his still rather weary brain had played a trick on him. No, it seemed impossible his husband had laughed. How would that have even looked? How could a laugh be appropriate on that grotesque face?

  Involuntarily he thought about the faint smile he’d seen on that same face the day before. It hadn’t been ugly.

  His throat became raw and his heart suddenly sped up. “Will you be at home when I return?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just like yesterday evening or really this time?”

  “Really,” Gavrila emphasised and turned just far enough for Hyacinth to see his long nose in profile. “I’ll leave a message behind if something of the sort should happen again.”

  “I’d welcome that very much, Sir.” He looped his belt through the holster of his new trinket – which was a real, functioning pistol – and threaded it into the loops of his trousers. Of the only trousers he still owned. “I’m afraid I’ll need new clothes.”

  “I’ll take care of that,” Gavrila mumbled, still seated on the bed and showing no indication of getting up.

  “Aren’t you well?” Hyacinth asked in a low voice, his forehead creased together as if of its own will.

  Gavrila shook his head defensively, setting his dishevelled hair into gentle motion. “I’m just tired.”

  “Couldn’t you sleep?”

  “I’m fine, boy. Don’t make Seymour wait any longer.”

  His spouse apparently wanted him out of the way again. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I am. Go on now.“

  He hesitated a moment but finally obeyed. “See you later.”

  His husband only nodded feebly, and Hyacinth left without looking into his mud-coloured eyes.

  *

  Two hours later Gavrila sat on the sofa where he had taken a seat shortly after Hyacinth’s departure. He had prepared breakfast then taken a bath. Now he no longer knew what to undertake and stared at the wall as he was accustomed to. The time passed at a tortuous, slow pace. It was even worse when someone was longing to see someone. And he was. He was waiting for Hyacinth.

  “By Heaven, this is nonsense!” he gruffly called himself to his senses and abruptly stood up. Gavrila Ardenovic didn’t have to long for anything, damn it! And, confound it, he didn’t want to! He didn’t want to feel anything and attempted with everything he had to suppress those unfamiliar emotions which were suddenly laying siege to him. What was stirring him up so much?

  Frustrated, he tugged at his hair and drew a deep breath to calm himself. He paced back and forth in front of the hearth where a fire flickered. As if it would do him good to walk grooves into the floor.

  Abruptly, someone pounded a fist against the glass door, and he paused with a start to catch sight of a strange man outside on the street.

  The fellow waved a piece of paper. “Mr Ardenovic! I have some news for you!”

  Gavrila opened the door. He took the document without a word, broke the seal and unfolded the paper.

  In an hour on the waterfront, at the entrance of the small pub attended only by fishermen. You’ll want to hear what I have to say, so don’t ignore me.

  Flexing his jaw, he turned to the man who brought the message. “What’s this crap about? Who is this from?”

  “I don’t know, Sir!” The man shook his head and manifested an almost horrified grimace on his face. “I’m only the messenger.”

  “Surely you know who paid you and placed this letter into your hands.” Gavrila grasped the guy by the collar and jerked him closer. “Consider carefully what you say now.”

  In the stranger’s countenance he read fear and the repugnance which he received from everyone’s gaze. “The man was wrapped in a hooded cloak. I couldn’t see his face.”

  “Continue. Where did he accost you? What exactly did he say? Spit it out!” He shook the man who gasped, struggling to twist out of his grip. “Talk or I’ll do something I’d prefer not to do,” he growled and squeezed harder on the collar to cut off the messenger’s air.

  “On some street or other, I don’t know. Please, I can’t remember,” the little bastard choked out. Gavrila realised to his satisfaction that the man’s repugnance gave way to panic.

  “Gavrila, what are you doing?” Hyacinth’s bright voice suddenly demanded. He saw his husband unexpectedly standing beside him placing a hand on his arm. “Let go.”

  Without intending to, Gavrila obeyed and released the man, who gasped for air then was quick to take his leave. His rapid strides caused a delug
e of sounds – soles on flagstones, soles in puddles. Gavrila stared after him until he had disappeared around a corner, his overcoat flapping.

  “Who was that and how did he deserve such treatment?” Hyacinth furrowed his brow. His fingers still remained on Gavrila’s arm who could feel the other’s warmth through the fabric of his shirt.

  He shook off the young man and went inside. It was by God too cold outside to stand there any longer than necessary. “I have to go somewhere,” he stated in lieu of a reply and slipped into his jacket before throwing his coat over his shoulders. If he wanted to make it to the waterfront on time, he needed to hurry.

  “Where are you going? What… what’s wrong?”

  “I made breakfast for you.” His perfunctory nod was directed at the table, but Hyacinth didn’t look.

  “I asked you a question,” the lad reminded him.

  “I’ve made a note of it,” he responded drily. He glared deeply into Hyacinth’s eyes. In a manner which usually caused the lad to close his eyelids and turn away.

  To his unbridled consternation, Hyacinth made no attempt to do so. Instead, he stared back truculently. “Am I going to get an answer?”

  “No.” With that he turned to make a hasty exit.

  Hyacinth stumbled a few paces behind. “Vrila!”

  Gavrila stopped. The circumstance that Hyacinth called after him with a term of affection robbed him of the ability to move. His heart pounded more wildly than it ever had before.

  “Let me come with you,” came the raspy plea from his husband.

  He didn’t turn to look at him, struggling to suppress the emotions rising. “Close the door and allow no one in.” Who was he trying to fool? As if the boy would obey him! He quickly wiped a hand across his face. “Do me a favour. At least no strangers.” He hurried on then stopped behind a corner and listened for the key to turn in the lock.

  It took a while, but finally he perceived the sound which gave him a mild sense of relief.

  *

  While he walked through one of the desolate streets, he became aware of being followed. Inconspicuously, he drew his dagger from its sheath and wrapped his fingers firmly around the hilt of the weapon which he kept hidden in a pocket of his overcoat. Gavrila hoped he wouldn’t have to use the knife. He’d much prefer the shadow to be only a product of his paranoia, but someone had been behind him since he’d reached the fountain in the centre of town. There the dark figure came out of a side street to remain steadily on his heels.

  Was it the author of the message who had lain in wait to overpower him at a favourable moment? In any event, the waterfront was not exactly the right place for a murder. If the mysterious author wanted to kill him, he’d have to strike before Gavrila arrived at the harbour. A shiver ran across his back, and he was glad he’d revised his will with Hyacinth as heir – on the same day when he had sent the marriage dowry to the lad’s father.

  Nevertheless, to his amazement he had no desire to meet his maker so soon. That had been different a few days ago. However, now he could feel his pulse throbbing in his neck, and he clasped the dagger the enemy would get a taste of should he attempt an attack.

  He struggled to keep his breaths even and his senses sharp. There he was again – the shadow. He could sense him and hear his steps.

  Gavrila slowed his pace and noticed how his pursuer dropped back. What did the filthy son of a bitch have in mind? They were completely alone in the narrow street. What was the bastard waiting for?

  Unaware, he ground his crooked teeth and hurried to vanish around the next corner. A glance back showed him he had briefly eluded the other’s line of sight. He scurried into a niche between two dilapidated buildings and silently drew his weapon. Trembling, he held it ready to strike. As the unknown stalker passed, he grabbed and yanked him against his body. He cupped a hand over his pursuer’s mouth; with the other he held the blade to his neck.

  “Who are you and why are you following me? I want answers to these questions as soon as I remove my fingers from your lips. Is that clear? And woe be it to you if you yell. You will be nice and quiet and tell me what I need to know.” His anger compelled him to push the blade deeper into the skin of the stranger, although the latter was nodding eagerly. For a moment he harboured the desire to hurt this shadow. Just like someone had so often hurt him…

  He jerked his head to shake loose that insane idea and to pull himself together. Then he again sensed the trembling body couched in his arms. “So, who are you?” Cautiously he took his hand from the soft mouth.

  “Your husband, Sir,” he heard instantly the now very flaccid voice of Hyacinth.

  As the organ in his breast galloped like a wild stallion, Gavrila feared an impending cardiac arrest. Gruffly he shoved the young man from him, who turned and showed him a face pale as a corpse. The hood slid from his head and revealed wild, blond locks.

  The realisation that, in his near insanity, he had almost killed his own husband hit him harder than a blow to the face.

  “What in hell were you thinking?! Are you completely out of your mind?” His roar was so loud his words echoed off the surrounding walls.

  “I wanted to know where you’ve gone. I found this letter on the ground,” was the timid reply. Hyacinth showed him the message, and he reached into a pocket of his trousers, which was empty. He must have dropped it.

  “I could have killed you, you damned fool!” He combed through his hair and wiped across his face with trembling fingers. He was sweating although his skin was as ice-cold as ever.

  “Damnation, you would have richly earned the belt this time! What were you thinking trailing me that way?! I thought you were an assassin! Just don’t expect me to ask your forgiveness!”

  “I don’t!” Hyacinth blurted out and appeared to have overcome his fright – quite by contrast to Gavrila whose knees were still shaking.

  “I will not ask your forgiveness! I never ask anybody’s forgiveness! Not for anything! On top of that, you are to blame for this incident! You alone bear responsibility for this!”

  “Nobody is saying any different. Are you going to calm down now?”

  Gavrila pulled at his hair until it hurt. He felt he was distorting his face to an even uglier grimace than he usually displayed. “I’m sorry, alright?! I’m sorry! I didn’t want...“ His frail voice failed him and he gasped for air.

  His remorse concerned much more than this disaster. He hadn’t wanted to thrash the boy. And yet he had… because he himself was a repulsive bastard.

  Hyacinth examined him with an impenetrable gaze and finally crossed his arms defensively in front of his chest. He turned away from him and the muscles in his neck visibly tensed. “I don’t know why you’re so upset. Nothing actually happened. Will you take me along now so I don’t have to follow you again?”

  Gavrila had to clear his throat and was embarrassed by this outpouring of emotion, which he shouldn’t have allowed to overcome him. “As you wish.” He admitted defeat to prevent any further catastrophe.

  *

  Silently they continued along the route to the waterfront. Hyacinth intentionally fell back half a stride. He wished to avoid looking at Gavrila. The man had given him the fright of his life then, with his unwanted apology, brought him to the point of wanting to embrace him.

  That desire had overtaken him with such a rapid intensity that he had had to cross his arms just to keep from flinging them around Vrila’s neck.

  His heart began to thump wildly; his stomach churned.

  It must have been the fear permeating his limbs that so completely shook his self-composure. Basically the two were virtually unknown to one another; how could such an impulse have overcome him?

  Perhaps it was solely from his need to belong somewhere. Gavrila offered this possibility now that they were married. However, that was absolutely no reason for such a declaration of affection. Most of all, since he felt no affection at all for this man!

  “I haven’t the slightest idea who wrote this scri
bbled rot. We must be cautious. I have many enemies,” Gavrila abruptly murmured.

  “For what reason?”

  “Because people are repulsed by me. And my investigations concerning Dimitri have made me no friends, instead even more enemies. I want you to keep low and have your pistol ready.”

  “Yes, Sir!” he said and for a change hadn’t meant to mock with false deference. The exclamation had simply crossed his lips without the intention of annoying or teasing his husband.

  He felt uneasy at the thought of being exposed to danger. Of course, he wouldn’t back down after having caused Gavrila so much grief. In addition, he wasn’t a coward and had sufficient courage!

  In truth, that was a lie, but right now he didn’t want to be negative.

  From a distance he noticed a man in a hooded cloak, leaning against the stone wall on the waterfront.

  Gavrila had obviously seen him as well, since he now realised what Hyacinth was wearing – the same piece of clothing as the mysterious stranger. “Where did you get that cloak?”

  “From your wardrobe cabinet,” Hyacinth confessed and felt his cheeks flush.

  “You’re still sniffing around in my things?”

  “To be precise you didn’t forbid it. You merely concluded that I was doing it. Nothing else. Only a conclusion, not a ban.”

  “You’re very shrewd.”

  A dull smile spread over Hyacinth’s lips. “Thank you.”

  “Only a conclusion, not a compliment.”

  As punishment for that outrageous conduct, he pinched his husband in the side. The scant flesh on the latter’s ribs was not easy for his fingers to hold on to, but his assault came as such a surprise he was satisfied by its success.

  A wheezing sound escaped Vrila’s thin lips when he jerked back. His features relaxed for a moment.

  Hyacinth responded to his confused look with a presumptuous smirk of gratification meant to show his spouse he would reprimand him again if he threw down the gauntlet.