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

by Richard Bergen

  Moira squealed in surprise when Kelcie impetuously flicked her skirts upwards. Unfortunately, as she was lying on her side on the bed, I couldn't catch a closer glimpse. Her thigh was protected by a pair of panties exactly like the ones Vincent had presented to us.

  "The panties you have to get are usually worn during the acts as well. That's what makes the whole thing so practical. So you have to come up with something special to take them from your lady of the heart. The most suitable way is certainly to ask for a love pledge, so that the beautiful one will always be in your memory. Oh yes, one more thing, when you have reached your final goal, take your time! Nothing annoys a vicious lady more than a guy who soils her clothes with his excitement. The best thing to do is to give yourselves a good relief right before the evening. Believe me, I know what I am talking about."

  To my regret, the two women now rose again from their camp and bowed as if after a theatre performance. And also like a theatre performance, they were immediately met with thunderous applause. I looked at my fellow candidates and noticed with amusement that they had red faces and shining eyes. I probably looked the same.

  "Well, I hope you will heed my advice. Do any of you have any more questions?" Kelcie was about to end the lesson.

  "Can I see your tits?" came an unqualified response from our ranks. Yvain had spoken.

  Kelcie grinned. "If you pass the test and become a Guardsman - then maybe."

  A disappointed murmur went through our rows. Kelcie made her way to the door with her friend and opened the creaking wooden barrier. Before stepping out into the hallway, however, she turned around. "Oh, what the hell." With that, she pulled her bodice apart, giving us an uplifting sight for a few moments.

  Then the lesson was over.

  Chapter 15

  They had given me Edwin as a mentor. Richard was less fortunate. He was given Wilbur, of all people, the Guardsman who had not exactly shown friendly feelings for him back in France.

  Now the four of us, coming from Queenhithe Ward, strode into Finimore Lane, very close to the mighty St Paul's Cathedral, to seek out a tailor. This street was home to a number of clothiers and there was a bustle of activity in the shops. I had wondered at first why Wilbur was accompanying Edwin so that I could stay with my friend, but Edwin had explained this to me: "Wilbur and I are clan brothers. We come from the same Scottish village and are therefore relatives, so to speak. Even though Wilbur spends most of his adventures with Tom and Vincent, we are glad of any opportunity to see each other. The MacFarlanes are a deeply rooted community. Our motto is 'This one I will defend'. Up on Loch Lomond is our home. It's cold, rugged and inhospitable there, but it's also beautiful, I can tell you that."

  "Wasn't the motto, 'each one of us stands up for the collective and the collective stands up for each one of us'?"

  "No, no, that's the motto of the Three Guardsmen, George. Let's not confuse things here. But I am not only a loyal King's supporter, I am also Scottish. Once a year we visit home to pay a visit to old friends and check on our headquarters."

  " That means your headquarters are not in London?"

  "As I said, James was first and foremost the King of Scotland before he also became King of England. The original headquarters of the Guard is at Dunnottar Castle in Aberdeenshire. That's where we still train our recruits."

  'Kenneth and Thomas Taylor' was emblazoned on a wooden sign above the shop we now entered. A large room welcomed us and a stocky man with an awake look greeted us formally."The Honourables wish to shop?" he asked in a high-pitched voice. "What will it be? A new hat perhaps? A doublet? We got new boots in today. The very finest, soft calfskin." The salesman addressed only Edwin and Wilbur and did not dignify us with a glance. Edwin waved his hand in annoyance. "We're not here for us, we're here for these fellows. They need sensible clothes to present themselves properly at court."

  "At court?!" The salesman looked dismayed. "That's going to be quite a task. I'll need help with that. Thomas! Can you come over here please?"

  Moments later, a second man appeared from behind a large pile of clothes. For a moment I thought I was going crazy. The guy was the complete spitting image of the first salesman. Not only the face, but also the clothes were identical. They were twins.

  "These young fellows here are to be groomed for court," Kenneth informed his brother.

  "Oh God, oh God. This is going to be difficult, this is going to be bloody difficult. These two don't look courtly at all."

  "Do you want trouble?" immediately roared Richard, but was put in his place by Wilbur's strong hand. Now the giant himself took the floor and barked at the shopkeeper. "Just do your duty and don't stand there like a fool! I'll pay for this boy's wardrobe. Edwin will take care of George's equipage. So, let's go!"

  Without resisting, Thomas now did his duty. He disappeared behind a Spanish wall with Richard and Wilbur, while I took up the other side of the shop with Edwin and Kenneth.

  "Down with that nasty doublet, my lad! It's an insult to my eyes." I did the tailor the favour, although I would have preferred to kick him in the butt. I was only allowed to keep my pants on, but I let this undignified procedure pass without a word. After all, I was promised a courtly appearance at the end.

  Kenneth Taylor handed me a pair of white knee socks made of finely spun wool to put on.

  "No, no!" interjected Edwin immediately. "At court they wear silk stockings and not wool."

  "Very well, sir!" came out of the tailor's mouth eagerly. He handed me white silk stockings and silver-coloured garters with metal buckles with which I fixed the stockings above my knees. I felt rather silly, but apparently this was what they wore at court. Behind the Spanish wall I heard Wilbur's voice. "Stockings? What does he need stockings for? He's getting boots. No one can see his feet."

  Next I was handed a loose white shirt, which I slipped over my bare torso. A pair of blue silky harem trousers followed, the sides of which were decorated with a white border. Then the tailor handed me a blue doublet with stitched silver stripes, which fitted tightly around my body and fastened with a long row of elaborate silver buttons. As I did this with difficulty, I heard Richard's voice next door. "But it doesn't really fit. I can hardly breathe in this thing."

  "Poppycock," Wilbur spoke up in response. "That thing's on sale. You'll probably be able to pull in your stomach a bit. Good Rahel is giving you far too much to feed on."

  "These boots are made of the very best calfskin," Kenneth interrupted my eavesdropping. "Buttery soft and extremely gorgeous. Plus there are these spur leathers complete with spurs that cover the entire forefoot, the latest thing from Paris."

  I was impressed by the noble footwear and pulled my cuffs up over my knees.

  "Rat leather?" Thomas Taylor's voice came through the Spanish wall. "My Lord, they are really not for court. The boy will make a fool of himself. We have those pigskin boots for half the price there, too."

  "Very well," grumbled Wilbur. "The lad will still take all my pay out of my pocket, all right."

  Obviously Wilbur's plan was to save as much as possible on Richard's wardrobe. I guess he just saw my friend as a freeloader and was just not willing to spend that much money on him. Stephen Fletcher had made the allocation of mentors without consulting his Guardsmen first. I was very glad that I had been assigned to old Edwin. He was a sly fox and liked me. Amos had even got Vincent off, the real expert in matters of seducing women. So Richard had my sincere condolences.

  "Now for the buff coat." Kenneth Taylor presented me with a jacket-like garment with a stand-up collar, long sleeves and flared skirts, made entirely of light-coloured suede, which could be closed at the front by complicated lacing. I also pulled this structure over my upper body. While I tried my luck with the lacing, the tailor put a wide lace-covered collar around my shoulders and spoke quite enthusiastically of his own work. "Better than I expected. With a little attitude and dignity, he could pass for a courtier."

  He gave me also a pair of leather gloves with
long cuffs and a wide-brimmed felt hat decorated with peacock feathers. Both matched the colour of the buff coat.

  "Now if the young master may look at himself." Taylor assiduously slid a large mirror into position in front of me.

  As I surveyed myself in full costume, Edwin stepped behind me and clapped his hands slowly while one eyebrow raised ironically. "Not bad, kid. Except for a few little things. You know a man is only a true man with a cloak and dagger, so put this on!" With that, he handed me a black, almost floor-length coat with red lining, which he draped over my right shoulder and secured with a strap under my left armpit. He then handed me an earth-brown, leather and very wide bandolier together with a sword scabbard. "You already have a sword, boy. And what a one." He grinned appreciatively.

  I sheathed the Musketeer Captain's weapon, looked at myself again in the mirror and was filled with pride until Edwin said: "But shave off that ridiculous downy beard! It doesn't work at all."

  That did it. To mock my magnificent manly adornment like that was unacceptable. But I was certainly doing well to trust my mentor's judgement.

  I was curious about Richard and circled the Spanish wall. He was still in the final stages of dressing up. He was just putting on a dark brown buff coat made of ferret leather, which had also seen better days. The ferrets had probably starved to death and the buff coat had probably been bought second-hand. Numerous worn spots showed its age. The trousers and boots looked quite acceptable, but could not compete in the slightest with my noble garments.

  "So, now there's a hat and bandolier too," Wilbur sulked. "But I won't buy you an sword. You'll get a practice rapier from the fencing chamber when the time comes. And then that little huckster will present me with his usurious bill."

  Edwin discreetly took his clansman aside and when he thought he was out of earshot, he whispered something to him. I understood everything, though.

  "Are you broke again, old friend?"

  "Nothing that can't be fixed, Ed, you know me. Sometimes I'm unlucky, then I'm lucky. How about it? It' s Sunday tomorrow. A little trip to the 'Bear Garden' could solve all my problems in one fell swoop."

  "So it's problems now, is it? Are they the same creditors as last time?"

  "You're a sly fox, Ed, you're right. Those dogs have tracked me down and want their gambling debts back. But after tomorrow, that won't be a problem. It's about time this old feud came to an end!"

  "Let’s hope so, by goodness! I can't help you back on your feet again."

  "So it's a deal, Ed? You coming with me tomorrow?"

  "Sure. We MacFarlanes have to stick together, don't we?"

  The two swashbucklers came out of their corner again and paid the not inconsiderable bills of the two tailors. As they did so, I had the feeling that Wilbur was hanging on to every single silver pence like a magpie that wouldn't give up its prey. When we finally stepped out into the street, I noticed that Richard seemed rather short of breath. He quickly unbuttoned the fastenings of his much too tight doublet to breathe more easily. My friend really seemed to be down on his luck.

  Later that day, a small etiquette lesson took place in the 'Breeze'. Besides Richard and me, all the other aspirants and their mentors were present to receive a little instruction in courtly etiquette. Kelcie's explanations had not been especially detailed in this respect (even if they had been pleasantly in-depth).

  Rahel and Edwin took on the role of teachers this time. Rahel, because she often hung around the palace due to her job as a cook. Edwin, because he had spent a lot of time in close proximity to His Majesty.

  They now showed us how to greet each other at court. Rahel had a somewhat snooty look on her face and waved a fan at herself, which covered half her face. Edwin approached her in an upright, somewhat boastful pose and nodded slightly at her. When Rahel lowered her gaze, Edwin spoke solemnly, " Milady, my esteemed name is Edwin. Allow me to pay my respects?"

  At this, Edwin had put one leg forward and bowed deeply, pulling his large floppy hat from his head, which he waved from right to left in a dissolute gesture as if he were trying to catch a swarm of flies. As he tightened his torso again full of verve, the hat also found its place again on Edwin's old skull. The whole thing had looked very elegant and I decided to practise it right afterwards.

  "You are a tempestuous man, Milord," answered Rahel now, "but if I may inquire, what is your desire?"

  "That question can only be asked by a truly lovely beauty. Your grace, if I may take the liberty of saying so, outshines that of all who are present. I can hardly believe my good fortune that you will listen to me. May I have this dance?"

  "But my husband..."

  "Your husband does not appreciate what he holds. A flower like you should never be left alone. It should always be nurtured, cared for and... watered."

  Rahel giggled in amusement. I too could hardly contain myself. It was hilarious how the old Guardsman ensnared the elderly, buxom barmaid. Nevertheless, I memorised every word and hung on the lips of our tutors. Then Rahel agreed and the two of them performed a courtly dance for us. Jaspin, one of the Guardsmen, had his lute with him, which he now used to set a simple, rather slow rhythm. At times Edwin stood like a pillar of salt in the room, his hand raised, while Rahel had taken hold of it and circled around him like a fairground attraction. Then again, the two faced each other head-on, touching palms to bounce towards and away from each other. Everything seemed very stiff. Until now, I had only known the wild dancing of drunken peasants and loose maidens that one used to find in taverns at late hours. This slow dance was not exactly suitable for raising the mood of a feast, but one thing was certain - it was not easy to learn.

  "Time for you, friends!" now growled Edwin. "That means all the aspirants. Get your untrained asses off your chairs and come here! Now you will learn how a courtier is supposed to dance, or you will disgrace us."

  While we were clambering unsteadily into the middle of the room, the staircase planks creaked at the back of the taproom. Joyfully, I recognised the female staff of the clubhouse.

  "The girls will be your dance partners. But don't step on their toes too often, I would advise, or I will have to charge you for it!" Edwin's remark was rewarded with general laughter.

  As much as I would have liked had Kelcie as my dance partner, I got Abigail. She wasn't bad looking, but I could see her as more of a sister than a lover. She looked at me encouragingly and the tedious procedure of learning the courtly dance began. I soon realised that I had found the right person in Abigail. Since I didn't waste any lustful thoughts on her, it was easy for me to follow her instructions. So I became quite sure of my feet after only an hour. The leisurely pace made it easier to memorise the individual steps than with a faster rhythm, which was also an advantage.

  If I heard an "Ouch!" or "Crap!" in the following time, it was either from Ethel or from Richard, who had stepped on his dance partner's feet again. My friend just didn't have any luck today.

  When class was over, Abigail gave me an exuberant but quite sisterly kiss on the cheek. "Good luck with your conquest!"

  Gratefully, I watched her leave with the other girls as she walked up the stairs and disappeared.

  To end the day, we now took our seats at the table where we hoped to be served by Rahel, but instead of the delicious chicken, a large white blanket landed on the table. Plates, noble glasses and cutlery followed. I was used to having my own cutlery with me at all times. I always carried wooden spoons and knives in my belt, just like everyone else. What was this spiky metal thing that looked like Neptune's trident supposed to be?

  When Rahel saw my puzzled look, she explained: "It's called a fork. They use it at court these days. You poke it into the meat and cut off a piece with a knife. Then you use the fork to put it in your mouth. That way your hands stay clean."

  "Where's the fun in that?" grunted Wilbur in the background as he took a big gulp of ale.

  "There are other ways to have fun." I thought I detected a teasing undertone in Rahel's v
oice. The girls now served the chicken with a side of peas. The typical roast smell filled the room and made my mouth water.

  "The challenge is to touch the bird as little as possible with your fingers while pretending you know what a fork is." Rahel turned her attention completely to Richard during her explanation. "Let's go!"

  The meal turned out to be extremely difficult. Although I quickly mastered the use of the fork, some of the food slipped off the tines every now and then and stained my shirt and trousers. I was only glad that I had safely stowed my court clothes in the cellar next to my straw sack. Looking around the group, however, I was relieved to see that I was far from the only one who had spilled.

  When we went to our sleeping place an hour later, I was completely exhausted. The day's workload had taken a lot out of me. All the new impressions, learning those stiff etiquettes and last but not least the tiring dancing had drained me out. On the way to the privy, Edwin met me with his hat pulled low on his face and muttering something like, "See you tomorrow, kid!"

  He was followed moments later by Rahel, adjusting her skirts and straightening her cleavage. Could it be? No! Or could it?!

  "Sleep well, George! Tell Richard I wish him sweet dreams!" Then she walked past me back into the house.

  "You want me to wish you sweet dreams from your beau," I soon teased Rich. We were lying on our straw mattresses, our woollen blankets pulled up to ward off the night's chill, still unable to fall asleep despite the tiring day.

  "Yes, I am the son she never had." Rich sighed.

  "I don't think she sees you as anything like a son. More like a youthful lover."

  "Here we go again, George! You never get tired of teasing me, do you?"

  "It's just too much fun," I admitted. "However, your beau seems to be unfaithful. I just saw her at the privy with Edwin."