"What do you look like?" exclaimed Rahel anxiously as we limped into the kitchen. My face was violently swollen. Blood was oozing from my lip. Richard was also bleeding from the forehead. A broken glass had given him a small cut. We explained in a few words what had happened.
"Damn Kendal!" uttered Rahel. "When he looks too deeply into the glass, he always behaves like a rabid dog. You two are off for the day. Clean yourselves up and then off to the cellar on your straw sacks! I don't want to see you in the taproom tonight again."
When we had cleaned ourselves up to some extent, a little later we were actually sitting on our straw bags.
"If we do it right, we can find out tonight what mysterious errands the girls are running." I glanced at Rich. "Thanks for risking your life to help me, by the way."
"Kendal is such a real scumbag. One who always likes to go after weaker people because he's afraid of his own kind. It's a mystery to me why he was allowed to join the Guard."
"At least Vincent helped us out of a jam. So he doesn't seem to be that indifferent to us either. Maybe there's hope for our future as Guardsmen."
"Oh, you're a dreamer, George. They only see us as servants who clean up their rubbish. Wake up! No one is going to make us Guardsmen."
Those harsh words didn't miss their mark. I was silent for a brief moment. I knew he was right about that and tried to distract myself from this frustrating thought, so I suggested, "Let's go outside the door and spy a bit!"
"How are you going to do that? I don't think we should go through the taproom."
I pointed with my head to the right. Richard's gaze followed and spotted the large, wooden barrel lift that closed off the cellar. The structure was a wooden platform attached to two pulleys. This was commonly in the upper position, sealing off with the ground behind the 'Breeze'. A padlock secured the platform from the outside, but Brawley usually forgot to close it.
"Let's see if we're lucky!" I loosened the rope that operated the pulleys. As I gave slack, I immediately felt a jolt. The platform started moving, so it was not locked. I effortlessly lowered it a yard. Now the gap was big enough for us to crawl through. We did so without effort and found ourselves in the cold of night-time London. It was pitch dark. We circled the building carefully. As we did so, we passed the narrow external staircase that led to the upper floor here and could be used as a separate entrance. Connected to this was the privy; a small shed built over a narrow water channel that flowed to the Thames. In this small shed, two wooden beams had been fixed over a hole in the floor. Everything that fell through there landed in the canal below. Cleaning this domicile was one of the harder tasks we had to do every day. Suddenly, however, we heard a suppressed gasp in addition to the splashing of the canal water. Peering cautiously around the corner, we saw two figures. Leaning against the wall of the building and bent over in front, I recognised Rahel. Her face was dissolved. Her breasts had slipped out of her bodice and hung down like huge cow udders. Behind her exposed broad bottom a tall figure was visible, thrusting slowly and rhythmically into her. It was Wilbur. With each thrust he fished greedily for the drooping teats and rolled them vigorously. Rahel was trembling with excitement and horniness. Discreetly, Rich and I withdrew and circled the 'Breeze' in the other direction.
"What a hussy!" my friend observed. "If Brawley knew about this, there would certainly be trouble."
"Brawley is good-natured and naive," I added. "He may look dangerous, but he loves his wife dearly and would never harm a hair on her head. You know how proud he always is of her work as a cook in the palace."
"Yet she is a loose thing."
"You're just jealous of Wilbur," I grumbled. "You'd love to ram her fat ass yourself and suck on her teats like a baby."
Richard punched me hard in the kidneys, provoking a fit of coughing from me. When I looked at him, contorted in pain, he grinned with satisfaction. I had to laugh now too, despite the pain.
We walked on and now reached the square in front of the inn. Torches lit up the entrance here. We looked for a place outside the light where we now were waiting to see what would happen.
It was soon that we saw Abigal turn the corner and head for the 'Breeze'. She hummed lightly to herself, apparently feeling unobserved, and went to the door of the inn. As she entered it, a Guardsman turned around the corner. I recognised Jaspin. Had he followed Abigal or was it a coincidence that he arrived here just after her?
I wasn't sure, just saw Jaspin waiting outside the 'Breeze' until the door opened again and another servant left the house. I recognised the red curls under the hood. It had to be Kelcie, my secret favourite. Kelcie nodded to Jaspin, then walked down the street, right past our hiding place. Jaspin followed her at a distance of twelve yards, just so that he could still see her, but far enough away for one to suspect that the two belonged together. This strange behaviour irritated me. Quickly we decided to follow the two through cramped alleys. The sparse lighting consisted of the lanterns that every resident of London was required by royal decree to place in their windows, casting a pale light on the street. Via the wide Thames Street, which was still quite busy at this time of day, we finally reached London Bridge. This was actually a busy place at any time of day. We had overtaken Jaspin, who had not seen us in the dense crowd, and were now close behind Kelcie, who had slowed down her pace substantially. She was now walking very deliberately with a swaying step. She had pulled her hood away from her face. Her red hair shone in the torchlight. A passing merchant approached her. A short conversation followed before Kelcie shook her head with a laugh. A little later, another man came along the way, whose clothes and habitus promised money. He talked briefly with the seamstress. Finally, they both nodded to each other and went further down the bridge. Since the old bridge was covered with buildings, every few yards one entered a kind of tunnel that was under the respective house. Here, too, there were carts standing around. Barrels and crates were stacked up against the walls of the houses. There was hardly any light here. Almost nothing was recognisable any more. Richard and I had crept up behind Kelcie and the stranger, who now went behind a stack of barrels. Because of the darkness, it was easy for us to remain undetected. What we saw now made my jaw drop down. Kelcie had leaned against the wall and opened her coat. Now she unlaced the front bodice of her dress, but only enough to slide the fabric down and present her breasts to the stranger. As she did so, she looked at him challengingly. Now there was no stopping for the man anymore. Under the cover of the barrels, he went for the sweet apples. A little later, Kelcie had lifted up her skirts and sat down on a barrel. The guy was fiddling frantically with his trousers. "Easy, easy!" gasped Kelcie. "Or are you just going to water my front garden?"
The man became calmer, breathing deeply in and out. From my position I could see him opening the flies and groaning as he pulled something out of his trousers. "Just wait, I'll do it," I heard Kelcie whisper. "Don't get so excited. See, mister, here he goes in."
The guy groaned indignantly. I immediately felt a surge of jealousy and envy rise up inside me as I watched Kelcies spread her thighs and pull the fatty against her. But the image was also very stimulating. I watched as the beauty's fair-skinned breasts were jolted with each thrust, as the guy pumped into her faster and faster until he reached his destination, panting loudly. He immediately let go of Kelcie and stood somewhat indecisively in front of her with stiff privates. "Now from behind!" He reached out and grabbed her bottom.
"Don't get cocky right away! You have paid for once. Let it go!" Kelcie rebuffed.
"Come on, just once through the back door," the man begged. "Can't you see I still can?"
"Then get your own remedy! We're done." Kelcie tucked her pretty breasts back into the bodice. You could clearly tell her patience was wearing thin, but there was another emotion ringing in her tone of voice - worry.
"We are finished when I say so," the man now replied threateningly. He grabbed the girl and spun her around, which he did with ease. He was twice her weight. Star
tled, Kelcie cried out. He had already gathered up her skirts and pushed her onto the barrel with her upper body. His hand slid searchingly between Kelcie's ass cheeks. Apparently he was going to have his way with her per anum. I was about to leap up to jump at the scoundrel's throat when help arrived from another direction. Jaspin had thundered his rapier pommel against the back of the man's head. Like a whipped dog, the stricken man cried out as he also felt the Guardsman's blade against his tail. "Put that ridiculous sausage back, my friend, or I'll cut it off you!"
Scared to death, the man complied. Panic was written in his eyes and a quiet sob left his throat.
"Now you pay Kelcie an extra two silver pence as compensation for her pain and apologise to her."
Trembling, the creep complied. As he muttered "I'm sorry", Jaspin gave him another firm, humiliating slap on the back of the head. Now the man staggered past our hiding place. He hurried to disappear in the crowd on the bridge. Jaspin had approached Kelcie. Gallantly he had doffed his hat. "Are you all right, little one?"
"No harm done," the red-haired seamstress returned. "Thanks to you. You didn't come a moment too soon either. It's strange what kind of degenerates are hanging around here these days. And he looked so harmless."
"Let's go to the 'Breeze'," Jaspin suggested. "You've earned enough for today. I'll follow you at a short distance so there won't be a repeat of such a fuss."
Kelcie now gave Jaspin a fleeting kiss on the cheek. "You're a real man of honour, aren't you? Next time you come to see me, I'll take good care of you." At that, her hand strayed between his legs for a moment, then the two of them made their way back.
Richard and I had been holding our breath the whole time so as not to give ourselves away. Now that we were alone, Rich blurted out, "Unbelievable! First Rahel and now Kelcie. London at night is a den of iniquity. And Kelcie is a love servant, a loose cunt, a licentious thing. I never would have believed it. And if Jaspin hadn't happened to be here, then ..."
"He wasn't here by chance, you simpleton. He was here because he was assigned to protect her."
"You mean ..."
"Yes, the Guardsmen run a brothel. Haven't you wondered why there are so many pretty girls working in the 'Breeze'?"
"So our cooks and seamstresses are really harlots and whores."
"Not only. I guess it's a sideline and what they earn is shared nicely with the Guardsmen, Edwin to be precise. That's why the money bags go across his desk in the morning. That's why he's always writing around in this book. He notes down the earnings."
"If the King finds out ..."
Richard spoke out what was also on my mind. His Majesty certainly didn't appreciate his Guardsmen pimping. Prostitution was not expressly forbidden, but it was not looked upon favourably either, and women who indulged in the trade were considered blasphemous and were also readily denounced as witches. I would gather all my courage together and ask Edwin about it the next day.
Chapter 5
"Does Stephen Fletcher know what you are doing here? Does he know about the pimping?" I asked Edwin very directly the next day after he had received the girls' bags of cash as usual.
He looked at me amusedly and took a puff on his pipe. "Sure he did. You broke into his home a few weeks ago, didn't you? Did it seem to you like the meagre housing of a common soldier?"
"No."
"Stephen is in on this. He'll get his share, just like everyone else. I don't understand your wonderment."
I shook my head stunned. "Well, honour and loyalty to the King. Chivalry and valour. Everything that the Scottish Guard symbolises is smeared with filth. Don't you think something doesn't add up there?"
Richard had joined us, unnoticed by me. He added: "Isn't that against the law? I'm sure the King doesn't like to see his Guardsmen behaving so disgracefully."
Edwin laughed out loud, almost snorting. "You are still so young and idealistic. That's quite remarkable, but it's also damned unworldly. Let me enlighten you! The king pays his guards a pittance. We are expected to provide all our own equipment, weapons, clothing and so on. The only thing the Crown provides us with is two shillings a week and a red tunic. So it is vital that we supplement our poor salary a little. How we do that is completely up to us. Our time off duty is none of the King's business. And now I ask you, would you rather women like Kelcie, Moira or Ethel were fucking around without any protection, constantly in danger of being beaten up by a drunken suitor? Is it unchivalrous to protect them?"
"I didn't think of it that way," I admitted meekly.
"We are fighters and protectors, not hucksters and bakers, so we do what we do best and earn our money legitimately."
"And you manage the financial side of it, so to speak?!"
"Each according to his abilities," Edwin replied. "I'm already a bit old. I leave the skirmishes to the younger ones. But I happen to have a knack for money and organisation, so I'm the Guardsmen's treasurer, as it were."
I didn't address the fact that the bags of money he handed out to the Guardsmen were much smaller than the ones he received from the girls. I did not want to spoil his favour. Perhaps there was still some kind of reserve for all those he administered, or he actually withdrew something for himself. I certainly couldn't prove anything, but in the end I didn't care.
"You are quite clever for two such young lads," Edwin now observed. "Do you still desire to become Guardsmen?"
"Absolutely!" exclaimed Richard and I fervently.
"Then you may soon have the opportunity to prove yourselves. We are currently suffering from recruitment problems. According to Fletcher, new members will be recruited soon. All this is not really ready to be said yet, but I would keep my ears open and not give up if I were you. From what I've heard about your France mission, I think you'd have a good chance."
***
"Did you forget to lock the hatch again, Brawley?" Rahel's voice echoed through the 'Breeze'. It was the same drama almost every night. Brawley forgot to lock the barrel lift. Rahel reminded him. Brawley would mumble something like "I'll do it in a moment" or "It'll be done, darling", but ultimately refrained from doing so because he always had other things on his mind. Sometimes he was just too lazy.
It was almost midnight and the noises from upstairs had stopped. Rich and I were stretched out on our straw-filled sacks. I was once again teaching Richard some French. I had promised him that in France. Richard was certainly no worse at it than I had once been at Isabelle's castle. But neither of us was completely focused at all. I couldn't get Edwin's words out of my mind. The chance to become part of the King's Guard was once again within my grasp. It was no longer a distant dream but had become a serious opportunity. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I had to talk about it too, of course, which was beginning to annoy Rich quite a bit. "Can't we finally change the subject? I can tell you now what Guardsman means in French and also what glorious tunic is called in French. However, if we are indeed accepted, we will become pimps. You have heard of it!"
"What's wrong with protecting a girl like Kelcie? Or one like Elinor?"
Richard smiled blissfully at the thought of the flaxen-haired kitchen help with the slender body and reserved smile. "She's the one I can least imagine getting shagged by complete strangers in a back alley. Kelcie, on the other hand, you could kind of see her raunchiness."
"Hey, what are you talking about my girl like that?" I said, acting indignant. This made me think of the exposed parts of the redhead's flesh I had spied in the dim torchlight, which immediately triggered a physical reaction in me.
"Rahel's pretty bent out of shape compared to Kelcie, don't you think?" Rich philosophised.
"Yeah, she is. On the other hand, I can't get her breasts out of my mind. They looked like well-filled wineskins. Heavy yet pliable. As huge and menacing as they may be, you just want to reach in. I can understand old Wilbur on that one."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, George. She's already lost her heart to me." Richard chuckled goofily. "Well, if anyone gets to reac
h into those fat things, it's still me."
I fell into the laughter. It was quite a while before we calmed down. Soon I fell into a doze but couldn't really fall asleep. The rock-hard thing in my midsection refused to settle down in light of what was happening. If Rich hadn't been in the room, I probably would have quickly remedied myself. So I refrained and fell asleep with the prospect of waking up with a wet shirt. Sleep came over me very sluggishly and finally took me by the hand.
Chapter 6
When I woke up, I felt a stone-hard floor beneath me. Where was my straw bag? Where was my shirt? I only looked into pitch blackness. My skull ached. When I reached for it, I felt a thick bump on the back of my head. Groaning, I struggled to my feet as suddenly a few sparks became visible, which immediately lit a torch. The room lit up abruptly. I looked around. Richard was lying next to me. Just like me, he was wearing only a pair of thin, tattered, knee-length pants. Apart from that, he was naked. Behind and beside him, a dozen other figures were now getting up, all as scantily clad as we were, all very young, although most of them might be a little older than Richard and me. I estimated most of them to be between seventeen and eighteen years old.
As my eyes adjusted to the torchlight, I recognised Wilbur, who was looking at us with a broad grin. He said nothing, however, only opened a door. Now, from a neighbouring chamber, stepped in a person I both feared and admired. I had not forgotten the tactical look on the wrinkled face that reminded me of a dangerous bulldog. Like Wilbur, Stephen Fletcher wore the vermilion tunic of the Scottish Guard as he eyed us coldly. The hundred or so buttons on his sleeves glinted in the light of the torch. The three golden lions on the chest seemed to move aggressively as the heavy garment was flipped aside, revealing Fletcher's elaborate sword handle.
The Caledonian Race: A Pulp Adventure (George Glen Series Book 2) Page 3