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

by Richard Bergen

  I rose from my bed and crept to her. She was breathing calmly. A soft snore escaped her mouth. Her eyes were closed tightly. The whole face looked relaxed and peaceful. Her hair smelled wonderful. I moved closer and absorbed her aroma even more forcefully. The urge to kiss her became overpowering. How much had I loved this woman and how unfair was it that I could not have her now?

  Slowly I moved closer to her soft lips as Isabelle's eyes opened. The green in her eyes shimmered mysteriously. If Isabelle was frightened, it was only for a moment. "Can't you fall asleep?" she asked softly, almost motherly.

  I shook my head. "How could I?"

  "Normally I'd be ringing for Josefine right now, to have her bring you some warm milk with honey. But she's not here," Isabelle said with a wry smile on her lips.

  "I don't feel like warm milk now either," I said pressedly. "You know exactly what I want from you?"

  "Ah ... have you come clean? Do you want to have some fun with me now to pass your childish second test?" There was open mockery in her tone.

  "Why would you say something like that? This test is no longer important to me. All that matters is you. Don't you see that? Isabelle... I love you. I've never stopped doing it. All the years I've been going about the world, I've never stopped thinking about you."

  "George, stop that!" demanded Isabelle now seriously with some harshness. "What you think you're feeling is merely a longing for a sense of comfort and for a time when all was still right with in the world for you. But I have also changed. I am no longer that woman who was chained to Longhill by her melancholy. I'm in the mood for new adventures. Why should I rehash an old adventure?"

  That had really hit the spot. Not only did she consider me only a fleeting adventure, but she again denied any emotion she had originally felt for me. I looked into her eyes, which at that moment took on a regretful expression. I realised how sorry she was for what she had said. It would only take a few more moments and she would apologise to me, but I beat her to it, moved away from her bed and hurriedly left the chamber. I ran outside into the darkness. Only away.

  There were only a few souls left in the village. A cool wind enveloped me, reflecting the chill I had sensed in Isabelle's words. Shivering outwardly and inwardly, I walked down the street. I was looking for silence, not wanting to talk to anyone. The injustice of the world just got on my nerves. If Isabelle felt nothing for me, everything else was of no consequence. My friend Richard, the Scottish Guard, the King... They no longer interested me in the slightest. I looked up at the deep blue night sky, where thousands of stars shimmered like cold light in the distance. The moon shone on the silhouette of the small town's houses and the dominant fortress, which surely had several centuries under its belt. It still had no baroque ornamentation or towers. It was simply a chunky monolith in the blackness of the night, created to ward off enemies and deter the world. Isabelle behaved just like that castle, I thought. She had her emotional drawbridges up and was ready to repel any attack I made with boiling pitch and the clang of weapons. Why was she so dismissive? I had seen the looks she gave me. Was she really just afraid she wouldn't get over me again? And why did she even think that we would break up again? I didn't think about it either. I wanted to stay with her, not just all the way to Dover, but all the way to France to her new life. I realised that now.

  While I was guessing at the consequences of these thoughts, I noticed that my face was all wet. Without consciously noticing it, tears had run down my cheeks. I quickly wiped away these embarrassing signs of my emotion. It was good that I was on my own.

  I finally returned to the 'Flaming Bell'. What else could I do? All the happiness I had felt from revealing my true family circumstances had evaporated with Isabelle's dismissive behaviour. Now I had to crawl back into our chamber and try to fall asleep while her enticing scent tickled my nose.

  Gently, I pushed my way back into the room and was about to slip quietly into my sleeping quarters when my eyes fell on Isabelle's folded-back bed. She was not there. Immediately I was filled with worry. Had she followed me? The mere thought of finding her unprotected on the street at night immediately gave me a stomach ache. I grabbed my sword, threw on my coat and disappeared from the chamber with bad premonitions in my heart.

  The stairs down to the taproom creaked lightly as I strode down. No one was there any more, the whole house seemed to be asleep, but the door to the courtyard of the 'Bell' stood open. I risked a glance outside and, to my surprise, spotted Isabelle standing next to the large horse trough. Instinctively I wanted to go to her and ask her what she was doing at the horse trough at this ungodly hour, when a not insignificant detail jumped out at me. Isabelle had taken off her trousers, only the large man's shirt that reached to her knees covered her body. She now pulled that too over her head, exposing her free body to the moonlight. I remained rooted to the spot.

  The fact that every guest in the house was already fast asleep had suited her. As a woman in men's clothes, one had to be careful when travelling. Isabelle had seized the opportunity to wash herself unnoticed.

  So there she was in front of me in all her French magnificence. I could see her round buttocks glistening in the moonlight as she began to spread water over her naked skin.

  I froze, pulled back a little to avoid being seen and watched the spectacle in amazement. Isabelle looked like a forest fairy. Her white skin was bathed in a bluish light from the moon. Her hands went under her armpits, over her breasts and between her legs, spreading clear water in regions I could only dream of. My arousal grew not only inwardly, so exciting did I find the view. I hardly dared to breathe.

  I wanted to go to her, I had to touch her, put my hand on her tender back, let it wander down to the two dimples above her perfectly rounded cheeks that had fascinated me so much even as a boy. Isabelle should be surprised, but not worried. I would release my hand from her bottom, use it to grasp her neck, turn her head towards me and kiss her wildly. She would return that kiss, I was sure, she would be ready for more. I wanted to press my lower body against hers. I wanted to feel her entire flesh with mine. Yes, I wanted that. The man inside me craved all that.

  But the boy inside me stood still under the cover of the darkness.

  Chapter 24

  The foggy landscape of southern England flew past our windows as we got closer to the coast with each passing hour. I had already dozed off a few times despite the bumping, for I had gotten little sleep the night before. I had been lying awake with all the thoughts of Isabelle, going over and over the scene at the horse trough. Had I missed a chance here? Should I have made a bold move? The fact that Isabelle had bedded down just a few feet away from me and that I had heard her light snoring the entire night hadn't been favourable to a solid night's sleep either.

  "Blasted English weather," grumbled Natheniel, one of the Puritans sitting opposite us. "Never see the sun in this godforsaken land."

  "Not for long, consort. Not for long," Esther replied with a serious face. "The Massachusetts sun awaits us, as do our brothers and sisters."

  "You want to leave for the New World?" Jean-Loup seemed interested. The looks that met him in response were anything but friendly. But Natheniel answered. After all, they were doomed to spend a few days together in cramped conditions. That the French drapers, with their screamingly colourful garments and cosmopolitan attitude, were the exact opposite of the Puritans was only obvious, but Natheniel overcame his initial reluctance and solemnly declared: "Oh yes, we will meet like-minded brothers and sisters in Dover and then embark for the New World via Portsmouth to follow our compatriots who are already settled there. Then we can leave this rotten and degenerate country behind us once and for all."

  At the word 'degenerate' he looked at Jean-Loup somehow hatefully. "In the New World, we will help establish a colony where the old values matter again - modesty, asceticism, eternal marital fidelity and unconditional fear of God. Those who don't abide by the simple rules will feel God's wrath, unlike here where the King tole
rates even the most absurd religions while he sits fat and stuffed in his palace."

  "Oh, I've always appreciated the King's liberal attitude," Jean-Joel grinned. I could tell by his tone that he was enjoying teasing the Puritan a little.

  A venomous look was also all he received in response. The carriage rumbled down the road.

  Isaac, another Puritan, now looked at Isabelle and me and asked affably, "How about you, folks? Do you at least appreciate and follow our faith?"

  Isabelle looked out from under her hat and said in a skilfully darkened voice, "As for me, I was brought up a Roman Catholic and will not adopt any other faith in the future. However, I don't think you have to kill each other right away just because you disagree on matters of faith."

  Natheniel seemed to disagree, judging by the look on his face, but Isaac seemed much more level-headed. "The King wasn't always so liberal. He had Catholics persecuted too. I'm just thinking of Guy Fawkes and his followers."

  "Fawkes wanted to wipe out the entire parliament and the royal family," Jean-Loup was now incensed. "This fanaticism is never good, no matter which side it comes from."

  I was considering whether it would be wise to interfere in this discussion, when I felt a searching hand under the thick fur blanket that rested on my and Isabelle's laps to protect us from the morning chill. I briefly glanced over at Isabelle, but she didn't make a face. Unnoticed by the other passengers, she had touched my thigh - a gesture so familiar and tender that it made me cheer inside. Since I was still very young at the time and it sometimes only took a brief thought to arouse me, I had to suppress a short moan. There was a slight grin on Isabelle's lips as she realised my little dilemma. Why was she doing this? Was she trying to torture me or play with me? In any case, I was glad of the thick fur blanket that hid the obvious result of her caresses from prying eyes.

  "What do you think of that, sir?", Isaac now addressed me directly and I could hardly resist the predatory look in his eyes. What had the guy just been talking about? Religion? "Well, I don't know very much about it. I don't really care whether the mass is held in Latin or in English. The content is and remains the same."

  "So you don't care what happens to your immortal soul when you leave this earth, boy?"

  Boy? Just a moment ago he had addressed me as Sir. How quickly you could upset people.

  "Well, I think it's more important what we do here and now. And why should God condemn us anyway? What have we done to him?"

  As Isabelle's hand stroked my thigh in steady, soothing motions, Isaac became agitated, "What did we do to him? We have mocked him by building magnificent cathedrals that merely represent the wealth of princes and not the omnipotence of God. We have mocked his mercy because we could make each of our offences obsolete by praying five rosaries and three Our Fathers. You don't get rid of your guilt that easily. Some deeds - some offences cannot be undone. For some deeds you will burn in the fires of hell - no matter how virtuous you behave afterwards."

  The brutal sermon almost robbed me of my good mood, but at the right moment Jean-Loup now took the floor. "Let's just agree to disagree, my friend with the black buckled hat."

  "Let's get one thing straight, I am not your friend. We Puritans are peaceful Christian people and so I agree with your proposal, but that doesn't mean I have to like you."

  The last words had touched me only marginally. I had pulled my hat down over my face, leaned back and felt Isabelle's hand fleetingly brush the middle of my body, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. When she finally withdrew her hand and pretended to be asleep, I was still as excited as a little boy. What on earth was she doing to me?

  ***

  We spent our next night in Faversham. At dinner in the taproom of our modest accommodation, the two Frenchmen joined us at the table. John had excused himself and had already disappeared into our chamber. The Frenchmen again told us a few anecdotes to pass the time until the food was finally served. They were good entertainers.

  "We really showed the bigots today, George," Jean-Loup finally addressed me directly. "There's no fun at all in their world, no room for the odd delicate aberration, is there?"

  "How do you mean that?" I inquired gloomily.

  "Yes, how do you mean that?" asked Isabelle in a disguised voice. The drapers thought her name was Ingram.

  "Oh, come on! It's plain to see how you always look at Master Ingram and seek his nearness, George. And your playing under the covers, you should be ashamed of yourself, Ingram," he grinned at Isabelle. Then he turned to me again. "But I can understand your affection, George. Such a proper man's ass is not to be despised. My Jean-Joel is a bit out of shape, but Ingram's backside is a walking invitation."

  "Hey, what are you talking about me like that for?" Jean-Joel was furious. "You're not going to lure a youngster out from behind the stove with that tired turnip of yours either."

  "Oh, you can be really hurtful, Jean!"

  "And you take a little too much interest in foreign gallants, Jean! Making a pass at our young George here, when God knows he's well cared for with the reclusive Master Ingram?"

  I was speechless. Obviously we were under observation and the two Frenchmen had drawn their own conclusions from the tension between Isabelle and me. I didn't know how to react. Isabelle, however, composed herself more quickly than I did. "I would appreciate it if you would be discreet."

  "Oh of course!" laughed Jean-Loup, patting her firmly on the shoulder. "We in France are much more tolerant of our kind of amusement. Even under Henry the Third we had a freedom of doing that the English can only dream of. In this country, if you get caught, you can end up in the pillory. We wouldn't do that to you, friends. We have to stick together, don't we?"

  The main course was served and I tried to enjoy the tough pork in mint sauce, but I couldn't quite manage it. I was not at all comfortable with the fact that we were at the mercy of the cloth merchants, no matter how nice and loyal they pretended to be. Wasn't the saying about the pillory a subliminal threat?

  Later we lay in our beds again, this time very close to each other. The size of the chamber made any other arrangement impossible. While John snored next to me like a forest rat, I groped for Isabelle's curls and playfully wrapped them around my fingers, which my mistress tolerated.

  "What are you planning to do in France anyway?", I asked her curiously. "Back in Longhill you kept telling me you wanted to go back there, but where specifically?"

  "To the Château de Morante, my father's castle, of course."

  "Excuse me! You've never told me about your father," I returned, a little annoyed.

  "My father has Spanish roots, hence the name, I suppose, and the black hair that is common in my family. Our family has a glorious, fighting past. During the religious wars, my father was involved in the battles of Coutras and Ivry as an ardent Catholic. But now he will be old, if he is still alive at all."

  "Have you any brothers and sisters?"

  "Oh yes, of the twelve, a whole eight survived thanks to our Mediterranean rough nature. But I was the only daughter and the youngest at that. I am curious to see how my brothers have turned out. When I was taken to England by Sir William, they were busy hunting and fighting all day."

  "Your husband has taken you away?" I asked in dismay.

  "No, not really. It just felt that way - at least later. At first I was happy to leave the land of my youth, but you know Longhill. Dreams, hopes and all the courage to live fade in no time in that place. After William's death I was broken and alone.

  You really should see my father's land, George! Lush, green meadows, forests full of game, clear streams to bathe in." She faltered a little. "But of course you must return to London, George. What you've built for yourself - your career as a Guardsman, that's what you were made for. Why should you wander the country with me? Your lowly standing ensures that you will never be more than my footman."

  I swallowed hard and understood that she was right. She was a noblewoman and I would never be able to marr
y her. What was I doing here anyway? She was absolutely correct. I should return to London and finally get these troublesome feelings out of my head. But that was the problem with feelings. They didn't originate in the head. They were neither logical nor rational and they simply did what they wanted.

  "I ... I don't mind," I said with conviction, still taking care not to wake John. "Then I can't marry you. As long as we can just be together, I really don't care. I can't lose you again. I can't bear it."

  Isabelle looked at me firmly. "If I return to my father's castle, I will be at his mercy. He may also want to choose a new husband for me, just as King James did. Who knows?"

  "Then let's just escape altogether! No father, no King, just the two of us. We'll just flee, maybe to Italy or Spain. Who's going to stop us?"

  Isabelle laughed hoarsely, and with resignation. "Is that how you imagine it? Are you going to feed us by pickpocketing? Are we to hire ourselves out as farm hands? Nothing against the simple life, George, but I can't do that. And I don't want to. That my father will eventually remarry me has always been known to me and part of my plan."

  "So you want to marry a complete stranger you can't choose?"

  "My father, the Marquis, is a kind man. He'll make a sensible choice all right. And if it comes to that, how do you see your part in the play, George?"