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

by Richard Bergen

  "May I have this dance, Milady?" I indicated a gallant bow.

  While she was still searching for the appropriate words (after all, she was not used to rejecting suitors), I had already taken her by surprise and pulled her onto the dance floor. We formed the tail end of the dance couples who pushed their way through the hall in a long line, occasionally rowing their arms like seagulls with their wings on the escape from the next storm. We swayed in circles to the beat of the music before the next change came. One hand clap later, I had another dance partner in front of me and was swaying in a circle with her. This process was repeated three more times, then finally I caught sight of Lady Isabelle right in front of me. Fate was with me today, because the music ended right now. We bowed politely to each other and the next dance began. Before Lord Stick In The Ass could reach my lady, I had already pulled her into my arms and taken the next dance steps with her.

  "George, I remember your temperament well and I have always enjoyed it, as you know, but calm down a little!" Isabelle eyed me lovingly.

  "How can you be so calm? The King wants to force that wretched curmudgeon on you and you think it's all right too?"

  "George, do you think I didn't expect such a thing? That the King would just let me go was highly unlikely in the first place. Nevertheless, I had to try. But don't worry! I had three plans from the very beginning. First, the King would let me go and everyone would be happy. Second, the husband he has chosen for me would be acceptable to me. And third, well, I'll simply go back to France anyway. After the conversation with the King and my first impressions of Lord Geoffrey, I am now left with only the third option."

  "You will decide against the King's wishes? Disobeying him could become a big problem."

  "Only if he is aware of it. However, I will not allow King James to notice my escape."

  "How will you do that?"

  "Well, now that I've unexpectedly met you here again, I have a small hope that you might be of some assistance to me, for old times' sake."

  She looked up at me. At this she seemed so helpless, yet hopeful. I noticed that I now towered over her almost by a head's length. At Longhill I had always looked up to her. I saw that slightly open, cherry-red mouth with the full, sensual lips I had kissed many times, looked into her eyes that longingly touched my innermost being and fervently groaned, "But of course I'll help you. That's not a question."

  "Well," Isabelle immediately became businesslike, "what I urgently need is menswear. Simple clothes for travelling. To be able to reach France, I must travel as a man. The short journey from Longhill to London has taken its toll on me. Three times we were threatened by highwaymen and beggars. Three times my honour was at stake. These English riffraff are ravenous vultures, intent on desecrating anything that wears a skirt. John, my faithful servant, has defended me fearlessly, but he is now an old man and on one or two occasions it was a close call. I shall have to go to France alone. If you could get me some suitable clothes for that purpose, I would be more than grateful."

  "That's no problem, but where can I find you?"

  "John and I occupy a small room right here in the palace, overlooking the river. I will describe to you how to find it."

  Even as we danced, we had made an appointment for the next morning. My heart was pounding with joy up to my throat as I continued to spin Isabelle in circles. This dance should never have ended, but at the back of the palace I spotted the King with his entourage. Calmly and with dignity, James took a seat in his chair and let his eyes wander over the dancing couples.

  "Get off me, George!" whispered Isabelle in my ear. "We shouldn't arouse the King's suspicions. It is better that he should think I am complying with his request." Already she had peeled herself from my arms and was looking out for Lord Geoffrey in the throng. A little lost now, I stood among all the people dancing and slowly trudged away. Isabelle was certainly right, but there was something sobering about leaving me standing there so unexpectedly.

  I fought my way through the crowds until I spotted Edwin again, who was engrossed in a conversation with Wilbur and Vincent. I crept up to the three Guardsmen and opened my ears.

  "Richard's just an idiot," I heard Wilbur's booming bass.

  "Oh, come on, Wil! If you'd given him a bit more shooting support, I'm sure his chances would have been better," Vincent interjected. "His clothes alone make the ladies of the court turn tail. Couldn't you have outfitted him better, you old cheapskate?"

  "It wouldn't have done any good with that brat." Wilbur grunted defensively. "He acts like the first man when it comes to pleasing women. He's far too quick and impulsive."

  "Very different from you at his age, eh?" laughed Edwin. "You give up far too easily, Wil. Maybe we should have set higher stakes to motivate you. You've made no effort to get your boy on the right track."

  "Amos has already disappeared with his comtesse." Vincent twirled his beard proudly. "With any luck, he already has the panties in his hands."

  "I think George has a pretty good hand, too." Fully convinced by his words, however, Edwin did not seem to be. "He says he's met his old countess again."

  "Oh, that mature seductress of little brats?" Vincent grinned broadly. "Sometimes I envy that fellow directly. Many are not granted such an introduction into love-making."

  The men turned slightly in my direction and I hurried to escape their view. I didn't want them to think I was spying. Now all I wanted to do was leave the ball. After all, I had already made a date for the morning hours, which I was pining towards fiercely. My interest in other ladies-in-waiting was extinguished. Only one thought dominated my heart - Isabelle.

  Chapter 20

  "What are you doing?" Richard noticed me slipping on my doublet and boots in the early hours of the morning. It was certainly still dark outside. The roosters in the neighbourhood had not yet made any sounds.

  "Got a meeting with Isabelle. Told you," I grumbled at him.

  "Well, have fun! I hope you succeed, I mean that sincerely. No one deserves it more than you, certainly not Amos. Everything falls naturally to that bastard. Ran into him again last night. He hadn't taken his lady's panties off yet, but he had already chased her hard through the sheets and scammed another date for today. The rest of the contenders have so far come away empty-handed."

  I wasn't really listening. My mind was all about my former mistress. I holstered the sword and wrapped myself in the black cloak. This would now make a good camouflage. "See you around," I farewelled Richard, "and keep trying your luck, friend! Would be a laugh if you survived the docklands and then failed this test." I patted him on the shoulder and left the basement. My path led me through the large taproom, which now lay empty and desolate before me. Everyone was asleep at this hour, even the landlords and whores of the 'Breeze'. I made my way to the far end of the room where, next to the stairs to the upper floor, was the door to the sewing room. I carefully pushed down the handle, but immediately realised that the heavy wooden door had been locked.

  I paused for a moment in frustration before a thought occurred to me. I had worked for the Club of Wolves, after all. On the eve of the legendary raid on Stephen Fletcher's place, old Timmy had explained to me how a simple nail could be used to open a lock without a key. I had never been able to try this out in the field because of my early retirement from the gang of thieves, but now seemed the right time. I went into the kitchen to a small cupboard next to the door, where tools and iron nails were kept in a drawer. With great difficulty, I bent the nail with the help of half-rusted iron pliers, just as Timmy had once shown me. When the metal pin had the shape I needed, I went back to the door and tried my luck. Time was running out. I was getting nervous, which did not speed up my plan. Slowly I slipped my thieving tool into the slot and tried again and again to turn it the right way, until at last I heard the liberating click that announced the success of my enterprise. I quickly slipped into the sewing room and looked around. On a large table lay some shirts and trousers still in progress, but on a shelf
against the wall I immediately found a pair of dark brown trousers, a white shirt, a pair of boots, plus buff coat, a cloak and a hat. Even gloves found their way into my possession.

  Now it was time to hurry. Stealing from the people who provided me with bread was certainly not polite, but I saw no other way to help Isabelle. Of course, I could have given her my everyday clothes, but they only included a shirt and trousers. It would be difficult to conceal Isabelle's femininity in them.

  Restlessly, I left the 'Breeze', careful not to make any loud noises. With the bundle of clothes under my arm, I reached the yard. Several horses were tied to the railings here. Apparently some Guardsmen were spending that night in the tavern. Since I hadn't noticed any drunken bodies in the taproom, they were probably sleeping upstairs with the girls. So I could be confident that they would not notice the loss of a horse in the next few hours. The lad who had been assigned to guard the animals was curled up like a young dog in the hay behind the horses. He was snoring. I decided to take the first mare, untied her very carefully and led her behind me by the bridle. The Guardsmen's horses were constantly saddled at the 'Breeze', you never knew how soon you would be called to duty again.

  I had quietly left the square in front of the 'Breeze' behind me. It wasn't until I reached Old Swan Lane that I sat up and gave the animal its spurs. The fresh wind blew in my face. My coat blew like a flag behind me as I blasted into Fleet Street. Only a few people were already on the road. It had not yet struck the fourth hour. Fleet Street became The Strand and ended at a junction with a large monument in the middle, the famous Eleanor Cross. From here the road headed south towards Whitehall. At a sign saying 'Scotland Yard' I made my way down to the Thames, where several barges were moored at a wharf.

  I tied up my horse and jumped into one of the boats with alacrity. The ferryman at the stern was jolted out of his dreams as the wooden construct began to rock violently.

  "'A simple crossing?" he asked sleepily.

  "No. To Queens Bridge, please."

  He looked at me aghast. "That belongs to the palace, laddie. Have you got a pass, then?"

  "Let me worry about that!" I threw him two silver pence. Indecisive, the ferryman shrugged his shoulders and sat down on the deck of his boat. "It's all right with me. If the guards cut you up, it's not my problem, kid."

  The boat pushed ponderously through the calm waters of the morning Thames. Our journey was not long; the ferryman put in a good effort. A pale light already shimmered over the buildings of the palace. Dawn was breaking through. I looked at the various buildings of the palace that reached down to the water. Each one seemed to represent a different era of the kingdom. There was old half-timbering to be seen, as well as modern, ornate columns and large window fronts, which were so popular at the moment.

  We passed a first jetty that jutted into the Thames like a redoubt and approached another that had been elaborately roofed over and at the end of which stairs reached down into the river.

  "Here we are!" spoke the ferryman. "I'll bet you all my ferry fare that you won't be let in there."

  "Agreed," I returned good-humouredly. "Wait for me here and I'll give you three times the ferry fare for the return trip!" I jumped onto the first dry step of the stairs while the old man moored the boat. With only a few steps I had reached the end of the stairs. As I reached the covered part of the jetty that led further directly into the palace interior, two red-robed men faced me, resolutely reaching for their rapiers.

  "Oslac, Emory, it's you," I greeted them as I pulled my wide-brimmed hat off my head.

  "George?!"

  "Yes, it's me. I'm here to take my second test."

  They both laughed out. "Well, let's not hold you up, you lucky little bastard. Don't go too wild with your lady, though! The whole palace is still asleep."

  "Could you do me a favour and allow the ferryman to linger here? He is my return ticket."

  "Because it's you, kid. Now get going!" Emory gave me a strong shove and pushed me towards the building. Inside, I climbed a wide spiral staircase. I remembered Isabelle's description and had quickly found the door to her chamber. I knocked timidly.

  It took a while before a frail-looking man opened the door for me. I could hardly believe my eyes. Yes, it was John. The once tall groom of Lady Isabelle's horses was hardly recognisable. Whereas a proud bearing and an irrepressible courage to face life had been his trademarks back then, now an old man who had lost all his energy within only a few years was looking at me. So this was the man who had once beaten up my father like a mangy street dog. It hurt my soul to be shown his decay so explicitly. It was monstrous what age could do to strong men. I swore solemnly to myself that I would never want to carry this burden of age.

  "John, you look well," I greeted him. Immediately I realised that I had probably exaggerated a little.

  "Grow a beard first, little brat!" he grumbled back. But then we lay in each other's arms.

  "My God, I sure didn't think I'd see you again, kid." He puffed lightly. "That night, it wasn't just for you that a world collapsed. All life disappeared from Longhill Castle with you. Rebecca and Josefine were unrecognisable. Lady Isabelle became melancholy. They were lonely years, I tell you. But tell me! How have you fared?"

  Lady Isabelle had meanwhile also entered the doorway. She was dressed in a silver-grey morning gown. "You will have plenty of time to reminisce about old stories later, John. For now, I need George to myself."

  "But of course, Milady." John was as officious as ever. I glanced at my Baroness and felt my heartbeat quicken. She immediately reminded me of that particular evening many years ago when she had lured me to her bedside. At that time I had initially resisted, had been afraid of the strange sensations and feelings that awaited me.

  "Come on, George!"

  I followed her through a door into the next chamber, which housed a large four-poster bed. The first rays of sunlight filtered in through a large picture window. She closed the door behind her so that we were alone. With a strangely appraising look, she finally looked at me. "How tall you've grown! I recognised you at once at the ball, but looking at you now, you seem strangely alien."

  "It's probably because you have to look up to me and because we call each other by our first names. I've always been your subordinate, as you know."

  "I think you're saying something true there, George. It's just how confidently you talk now that irritates me. You used to be so innocent."

  "Yes, until you put an end to it, Isabelle."

  Instantly she turned her head to the side. It surprised me how little emotion she showed. Had she forgotten or repressed the incidents of that time? Surely that couldn't be. "I didn't want to embarrass you, but you do remember what we did, don't you?"

  She nodded demurely, but couldn't bring herself to look me in the eye.

  "Don't get me wrong, Isabelle! I may have been very young, but I'm very grateful to you for showing me what love was all about."

  "Love?" she groaned in utter amazement. "That was love to you?"

  "What would you call it then?"

  "Well, amusement, fun maybe. I didn't know you felt so deeply then."

  I was hurt and unable to keep it to myself. "What do you think? My father always treated me like dirt and my mother was incapable of giving me fondness. You were the only person in the world who cared about me. What do you find so strange about me falling in love with you?"

  Now she looked at me with compassion and stammered, "Well ... I just don't know ... seeing you here again is so ... it's all too much for me. And now also the King and his absurd orders .... I ..."

  At that moment I had taken the trembling woman in my arms and held her tightly against me. At first she tried to push me away with a defensive gesture, but then she let herself fall into my embrace and began to cry. It was a deep sob that broke free from her body. All the tension of the past time fell away from her and she really cried herself out in the protection of my embrace. I gently stroked her head and finally led us
to the large bed. We took a seat. Isabelle sniffled a little and then wiped the tears from her red-rimmed eyes. "Thank you, George," she whispered, "thank you for being there for me and helping me. I've felt so terribly lonely all these years. And what we had ... well, I wanted to play it down a bit. I just didn't want to suffer again as much as I did when you just disappeared from my life overnight."

  "Well, I'm here now. I'm not going to let you down again."

  Isabelle took a calming breath. She looked at me lovingly. For a brief moment I thought she was going to kiss me, but she only lowered her gaze and asked me, "What were you doing at the ball anyway? How did you get wealth and prestige in such a short time?"

  ***

  Isabelle had listened to my summary monologue with wonder and wide eyes. I had told her in detail about my escape from Longhill, my career as a street robber, the life as a Guardsman's helper and finally about my desire to become one of His Majesty's Guardsmen. She had even had to laugh out loud about the second qualifying test. It was all just like the old days again. We told each other stories in bed and forgot about the time. We were reunited and as short as this interlude was to remain, I would savour it to the full.

  "So you are supposed to seduce a lady-in-waiting and demand her panties as a pledge of love? That's the most absurd test I've ever heard of."

  "Yes, the Guardsmen are quite creative about their tests. Most of the candidates are only a little older than me. I don't think their chances are too good."