The Caledonian Race: A Pulp Adventure (George Glen Series Book 2)

by Richard Bergen

  "Don't give me that crap! Get a hold of yourself, Rich! We'll be right there." Desperately, I tried to convince him. The bell chimed a second time.

  "I'm going black, mate. I can't ..." Richard slumped as he ran, hitting the pavement lengthways like a shot roebuck. Dark blood oozed from his leg.

  For a moment I wondered what to do. I couldn't leave Rich to the Seafarers, by God I couldn't, but with him in tow we would never be able to shake them off, even though it could hardly be another hundred yards to the 'Breeze'. The bell chimed a third time.

  "Give me your rapier!" urged Amos. "I'll keep them at bay. You carry your friend to the clubhouse."

  I didn't hesitate for a moment - there was no time to argue - and handed Amos my rapier. I then dragged Richard's body upwards to heave it over my shoulder, which was an enormous effort. Then - accompanied by chime number four - I made my way as quickly as I could to the 'Breeze'. A little later I heard the clang of blades, curses and screams close behind me. I didn't look back, I couldn't afford any more delays. After the next corner, I reached the small square with the clubhouse of the Guard. Only a few more yards. The bell rang a fifth time. The aspirant who had narrowly escaped the Seafarers in a side alley rushed past me. He was bleeding from various wounds. He was lame. Just before the longed-for goal, he hit the ground like a felled tree. I stopped beside him, hesitated for a moment, but then grabbed his neck and pulled the amulet with the vermilion ribbon over his head. Running again, I somehow hung the amulet over the head of the lifeless Richard.

  The bell of Saint Paul's chimed a sixth and final time as I thudded open the blue door with the St. Andrew's cross and stumbled into the taproom. Only a blink of an eye later, Amos threw himself into the 'Breeze', also completely covered in blood.

  "You look terrible. Are you hurt?" I was seriously worried for this guy.

  "It's not my blood," Amos returned good-humouredly.

  I nodded appreciatively and realised with satisfaction that he was still in possession of my precious rapier. "How could you stand up to four of those guys?"

  "There'll be plenty of time for explanations later, George. For now, let's celebrate. Don't you think?"

  At this, we looked around and couldn't believe our eyes. Had there been a raid? Had all the Guardsmen been killed? No one was waiting for us, the Guardsmen lay motionless, partly on tables, partly under the tables. Then we heard the first snoring sounds, and the stench of old booze and pipe smoke wafted through the air. It was clear, these men had been drinking the whole night through. There was no welcoming committee, which I had expected here. These bastards hadn't given a damn about our struggle for survival in the docklands. Four other candidates had also made it into the 'Breeze' and looked at us in irritation. They too bore manifold wounds. It was humiliating.

  Now a slow clap sounded from a corner of the room. A figure rose leisurely and came towards us applauding. I recognised the confident, superior look of Tom Cavanough, the leader of the three Guardsmen on our mission in France. It was the first time I had seen him since that adventure. He didn't seem to be drunk, or at least you couldn't tell. He said to us graciously, "My respects, boys!" Then he began to grin broadly. "Seven of you have qualified for the next test. A good result, I would think." He clapped his hands vigorously. "Rahel, my little flower. We have some guests here who are looking forward to their well-deserved ale. Won't you keep us waiting?"

  The landlady - still wrapped in a loose morning coat - appeared to attend to us. When she caught sight of Richard, still unconscious on the floor, she gave a short cry and immediately set about doctoring him. Together we lifted him onto a table. Rahel expertly began to examine the bullet wound in his calf. It was certainly not the first time she had done this. Fortunately, there was an exit wound as well as an entry wound. So the bullet did not need to be removed. The bone also seemed to have remained intact. A tight bandage soon stopped the bleeding.

  When Richard opened his eyes a little later, a blissful smile stole into the landlady's face. Richard touched the amulet hanging around his neck in confusion. He looked questioningly in my direction. I just shrugged my shoulders slightly. Rich smiled.

  I went to a window and peered out cautiously. The morning sun had gently cast a little light on the square. The boy from whom I had taken the amulet was no longer lying where he had collapsed. Only a large pool of blood marked this position. Whether the poor fellow had escaped under his own strength or had been caught by the Seafarers could no longer be determined. A wave of bad conscience overwhelmed me. Could I have reacted differently? Or even had to react? But what would have become of Richard then? I had made it possible for my friend to move on. Whatever had become of the other boy was in God's hands.

  As I scanned the buildings a little distance away, I could still make out the menacing figures of the Seafarers in the shadows, lurking and looking uneasily in our direction. But since there were a dozen leashed horses in front of the 'Breeze', they surely assumed that there were as many armed Guardsmen present. They would not dare to attack, that much was for sure.

  At the edge of the small group I now saw Braxton Duvall. The self-proclaimed archbishop stood silently in the shadows, staring darkly in my direction. His hateful gaze penetrated me like glowing embers, directly setting my soul on fire. He had a simple message for me: 'We'll see each other again very soon!'

  P A R T * T W O

  The hardness test

  Chapter 14

  The cold water hit my head with full intensity. I snorted. My skull grumbled miserably. A thick bump could be felt where I was searching for the source of all my pain with my right hand. Damn, they had done it again.

  Not two weeks had passed since we had survived that night in the docklands. Richard's health had improved rapidly thanks to Rachel's devoted care. But now the second test hovered over us like the sword of Damocles.

  Groaning, I came to my knees. I was in a room where the other six aspirants were already standing. Apparently I was the last to regain consciousness after the obligatory hit on the skull. Why did the Guardsmen keep doing this? If they wanted to kill us, surely there were easier ways. Was this some kind of manhood ritual, perhaps?

  "Come on up, mate!" Richard had stepped up beside me and held out his hand to help me.

  I heard Wilbur's dirty laugh. The huge Guardsman was just putting aside the empty bucket of water he had dumped over my head.

  Stephen Fletcher entered the room, causing me to shudder. The restless whispering of my cronies came to an immediate halt.

  "Men, you have proven yourselves. It was not easy, but you have overcome all the hurdles and dangers and brought the first test to a proper end. The chaff is beginning to separate from the wheat, as the saying goes. The next two trials will be harder, of that you can be sure. But to describe to you what the next test will be about, I'd better let the expert speak. Vincent!"

  The slim Guardsman with the neatly shaved Henri Quatre beard entered the room through the only door. He wore the red tunic with the lions embroidered on it, the object of my wishes and dreams. His eyes flashed with amusement. A wry grin stole around his beard as he began to speak. "You have proved that you cannot be easily finished off and that you can look after things entrusted to you. Now you will learn to prove yourselves at court. You will spend a lot of time in close proximity to His Majesty in the future. It is necessary, therefore, that you know how to behave in the presence of the nobility. You must be able to handle their customs, follow their rituals, but also recognise their weaknesses and vices. Therefore, we set you a second task, which far surpasses the first in difficulty. Seduce a lady of the court!" We looked at each other in disbelief. "And by seduce is meant everything - the whole theatre. A man who wants to call himself a personal guard of His Majesty must not only be a man of the sword. He should also be able to conquer a pure woman's heart. As proof of your success, we expect to see a certain love pledge from you in ten days at the tenth hour in the clubhouse." Vincent clasped his hands behind his ba
ck and strode philosophically from one side of the room to the other. "A new fashion has come to the court of London. It was Queen Mary de Medici in France who began wearing such knickers some years ago."

  At the same time, he pulled out a strange piece of clothing from his belt. It was a pair of trousers made of flower-white, very thin fabric, cut about knee-length and made up of two separate trouser legs, which were kept open in the middle. The ends of the legs were covered with elaborate lace. Near the waistband, the initials C.M. had been artfully embroidered.

  "What the old, fat lady probably only wore because she felt chilly sometimes on her unploughed underbelly, soon became a popular status symbol in the better circles. All the ladies of the court in Paris wore something like this, and now all the ladies of the court in London wear something like this too. The more elaborate the lace and the finer the fabric, the wealthier and nobler the owner, is the motto. Your task now is to persuade a lady-in-waiting to give you this delicate garment as a pledge of love. It is obvious that you will have to jump right into the feathers with her beforehand. Soon we will see what your amorous and rhetorical skills are like. Of course, we can't let you loose on the London court like that." He pointed to our shabby clothes. "Therefore, each of you will be assigned a mentor from our ranks who will give you the tools you need to enter the war of love. But how you go about conquering a lady, and exactly how to go about it, you will now learn from a person who must know better than anyone else in this room."

  Kelcie stepped through the door into the room. Her red hair glowed in the light of the candles. My heart leapt.

  Stephen Fletcher discreetly left the room while Vincent sat down on a stool in the corner.

  I could now spot a large bed in the back of the room. Kelcie was carrying an oil lamp which she draped on a table near the bed. The whole room was then bathed in warm dim light. Now I also realised that we were in the 'Breeze', in the chamber where we had watched Ethel and Tamora making love to a guest.

  Behind Kelcie, another girl entered the room. Wrapped in dark curls, Moira grinned cheekily at us. Her hourglass figure was flattered by the fit of the dress. Kelcie took the floor by clearing her throat and tossing her red mane over her shoulders in a graceful movement. "Boys!" she addressed us directly. "Or should I say men? That's what you want, isn't it?"

  My fellow aspirants nodded eagerly. I did the same to them.

  "I'm sorry to say, but the immaturity of many of you is quite obvious. You're all still really half-baked. A woman recognises something like that immediately. I mean any woman, not just a loose thing like me. Even a lady-in-waiting will recognise that you have neither maturity nor experience. I can't take away your insecurity, but I can teach you fellows how to avoid a few typical novice mistakes when approaching the lady of your choice. We'll do a little role play.I will play the role of the seducer, while Moira will play the posh lady-in-waiting you want to conquer. So sit down, watch and learn!"

  While I was a little piqued that Kelcie didn't seem to be aware of my past amorous experiences, I couldn't really be angry with the red-haired wildcat. The way she moved as she spoke was incredibly exciting in itself. The way her hair moved with every energetic remark, the way she gestured with her hands while she wanted to underline particularly important things, the way her beautiful bosom, covered in freckles, quivered slightly in the cleavage of her dress while she spoke. How ...

  "George!"

  "Yes?"

  Everyone stared at me, including Kelcie. "What did I just say?" She addressed me directly. I was embarrassed.

  "I ... well..." Stammering, I blushed. I felt the warmth in my face. I had heard nothing of what she had said before.

  Kelcie's tense face relaxed and she grinned gleefully at my mishap. " Novice mistake number one," she addressed the entire group again. "Too much thinking. As strange as it may sound, if you want to approach a woman, you simply have to do so. To think of words beforehand is deadly. Then you stand before your vain lady-in-waiting with such a dull, transfigured expression and can't make a sound, just as George has just impressively demonstrated." She winked at me. "No offence, kid." Kelcie actually succeeded in making me look even stupider. "And don't ever make the mistake of already imagining what the fine lady might look like under her dress. You'll find out soon enough, as long as you just walk up to her without hesitation and talk to her. Let me show you."

  Now Kelcie paced around the room like a fop. She exaggerated the role of the foppish seducer to the point of unbearability. But it was funny. She looked Moira in the eye and fixed her promisingly. Quickly she stepped towards her and addressed to her. "My Ladyship, may I introduce myself to you? Lord Clueless is my name and you have caught my eye. May I have this dance?"

  Moira lowered her eyes, turned slightly away and replied shyly, "But I am here with my worthy husband, Lord Moneybag. I do not wish to offend you, but my answer must be a no."

  Both ladies stopped the play and looked at us meaningfully. "What do you do in a situation like this, men?"

  "Well, I ditch the old lady and seek my fortune with someone else," said Emmett to my right, a gruff fellow who was already more than seventeen years old.

  "Wrong, dear," Kelcie corrected immediately. "What you just saw is the absolute ideal situation. Moira has averted her eyes, which means submissiveness just like dogs. She's babbling about her husband!In aristocratic circles, that's practically an invitation to her private bedchamber."

  Kelcie's vulgar language disturbed me on the one hand, but pleased me on the other.

  "And last but not least, she said 'no'. Remember that well, men! A woman always starts with a no, but usually means the exact opposite. Usually!" Kelcie raised her index finger. "Now I'm not talking about the poor sister who gets ravished after the battle, although she too may have fun from time to time." She laughed dirty as a strumpet. "No, I'm talking about the banter at court. It is good manners for a woman to refuse first. It is an invitation to you to continue in your doings. Compliment her, these chickens say they like that. What is important is not so much what you say, but how you say it. Be persuasive, be dominant and be strong! Look down on the woman. Let her feel at all times that you are the superior one, then you will also get what you desire! All clear so far?"

  Nothing was clear at all, but we nodded cautiously anyway. Only Richard asked uncertainly. "And if she takes to her heels and runs for the hills?"

  Adolescent giggles filled the room. Kelcie sighed and looked at Richard with pity. "Then don't get discouraged and approach the next one! Because in this case, the lady actually means 'no'."

  The two women now took seats on the bed at the same time. Kelcie turned to us. "Let's say you've got your chosen one around. You disappeared with her into a hidden booth, which I hear Whitehall is full of. What do you do to get into her panties?"

  Yvain answered: "I'll wait until she's asleep. Then I'll steal it from her."

  All eyes turned to the lad, who was only fourteen years old. How had he survived the docklands at all?

  Kelcie grabbed everyone's attention the next moment as she lifted her skirt and spread her legs lasciviously. In the light of the oil lamp I saw a nest of red hair between silky shining thighs. A murmur filled the room.

  "Have you ever seen anything like this before, little one?" Kelcie seemed to enjoy the greedy gazes on her midsection. Yvain shook his head in embarrassment. "Every woman has something like that down there." She now let her hand slide into the red forest. "That is what your task is about, kid. That's where you have to go in. You'll get the panties later as a keepsake to venerate, but only if you ask for them properly and don't get too clumsy beforehand."

  Everyone laughed. Kelcie dropped the skirt again. "So what do you have to do to get your lady-in-waiting's gem? I'll show you."

  She now turned her full focus to Moira and unawares slipped back into the role of seducer. "Your husband Lord Moneybag does not appreciate you, milady. You are so distinguished, so young and soft. I dread to think of you in the w
rinkled old hands of your husband. I desire your youth. I simply must kiss you." Kelcie spoke in a low disguised voice. As she did so, she also hugged Moira fiercely, who restrainedly resisted. Kelcie grabbed the shock of black hair and pulled Moira's head mercilessly towards her. Then their soft lips touched and a devoted tongue play began. The ladies gave themselves fervently to their play. We held our breaths. Finally, Kelcie pushed Moira into the sheets and set about undressing her victim. As she did so, she spoke to us again in her usual voice. "The dress of a lady of the court is like a fortress. The fastenings or laces are usually on the back. Underneath, each lady wears a corset, an armour made of whalebone to prevent anyone from tampering with her jewels, if you understand."

  She had opened Moira's dress at the front to reveal a light-coloured garment.

  "The front of the corset should be as straight as possible. That's why there's a wooden or metal rod in the middle to reinforce it. The thing is called a planchette. If a lady has dined too much or is in a hot temper or indisposed, the part can be pulled out. This is the only way you have to make your lady a little more comfortable, because if you try to undo the lacing of the corset, it will take you several hours. But be careful! Some ladies carry a dagger in their corsage instead of a planchette."

  Now Kelcie pulled a long metal rod from Moira's front and presented it to us.

  "If you have managed this, you have proved to your lady that she is not the first to you. You can now indulge in uninhibited lovemaking, for however well protected the lady's upper body may be, down below you need only lift your skirts to reach the object of your desires."