by Jay Lawrence
"And now they have come for her. The mob has come to claim their dark priestess."
Frederica felt her heart begin to pound again, as she sensed her husband's fear and heard the cracking, splintering noise of an axe penetrating solid wood. Resignedly, Lord Urquhart led the way back to the tunnel entrance and his young wife drew back from the narrow space, unwilling to move towards the sounds of fury and destruction.
"Is it safe, William? They sound so angry."
"They will not harm you, child. It is Sydonie they seek. Or retribution for her death. The walls have ears at Urquhart Hall and I expect some silent watcher soon spread the news of the witch queen's demise."
Frederica felt her legs weaken beneath her and she leaned against the wall of the house, sick sweat prickling her forehead.
"Then surely they will want my blood in revenge! What can I do?"
Lord Urquhart kissed her gently on both cheeks, then stooped to enter the low passageway, calling softly:
"You may stay here in hiding, if you wish, but I'd rather you follow, in case the lynch mob close the trapdoor and render you entombed alive. I would not wish that fate on my deadliest nemesis, never mind a girl I love."
I'd slowly waste away in a tropical paradise, sealed in, with the monstrous specter of the first Lady Urquhart to keep me company. Better to take my chances with the mob.
Together, they retraced the dark route to the open trapdoor, emerging into the greenish light of the doorless corridor. Frederica glanced up at the leaf plastered window as she clambered out from the black well, realizing that it must look down into the herbarium, although the view was blocked by the tangle of lush greenery. Lord Urquhart followed her gaze and smiled.
"The window was added at a later date. My own little joke and a prankish gift to my wife, whose sensual whims included a desire to be observed, but undisturbed, while making love. Whether we ever were observed, I cannot say, but I'd always lay her in the line of sight and make frequent comments about prying eyes, which never failed to increase her ardor. To be concealed, yet to be overlooked. That was the riddle she set me when she deigned to be my bride. Of course, the trees have grown much taller since Isobella's time."
They quietly traversed the long corridor back to the main part of the house, the discordant sounds of heavy furniture being overturned growing louder as they neared the great hall. Lord Urquhart paused upon the threshold to the vast chamber and gazed at Frederica with a look so tender and poignant that helpless tears began to fill her eyes.
"Whatever happens, my dear, remember that you have made me a very happy old man. I could not have asked for a lovelier bride. Guard yourself and my child..."
At that moment, his words were brutally interrupted by a thunderous crash from above and they stepped into the huge echoing space of the hall, aghast at the chaos which met their eyes. In the midst of a sea of splintered wood, a group of hooded figures challenged the emerging couple with angry shouts. The carnage in the hall resembled the fractured desolation of a shipwreck and, for one brief moment, Frederica glimpsed another scene from the dawn of her life. As swiftly as the images arrived, the desperate screams and thundering waves receded in her mind like an ebbing tide, leaving nothing but the pall of dust and sad hulks of desecrated furniture.
I saw her again, my mother! She held out her arms, but nothing could be done. Nothing could be done...
The tallest of the robed figures stepped forward and brandished an axe before Lord Urquhart. A dark scarf concealed the lower part of the assailant's face, but cold eyes glittered above the makeshift mask.
"Where is she, Lord Blackguard?"
Lord Urquhart drew himself up with every last vestige of his waning strength and spoke with quiet dignity.
"What is the meaning of this? How dare you ravage my property thus! Each one of you may hang for such blatant destruction..."
The tall man laughed sardonically, throwing his head back so the scarf slipped from his nose and Frederica thought she recognized the Satanist who had pursued her through the wood.
"Hang, will we then? An interesting notion for a man whose own hands are stained with his victim's blood."
Aghast, Lord Urquhart looked down at his crusted palms and an indignant female voice piped up from the rear of the mob.
"I saw 'im, sat there in 'is chair, wi' that mess o' gore upon 'is shirt!"
Chastity! She must have looked in, just after Sydonie's corpse transformed.
Horrified, Frederica cried out to the furious gathering:
"It was I! I killed your Priestess! Lord Urquhart is innocent!"
The ringleader snorted derisively and roughly pushed Frederica aside as she tried to protect her frail husband from the advancing mob.
"Keep out of the way and quiet, you hoity-toity brat! I'll deal with you later."
Another voice called out.
"Look! There's her dress!"
Sydonie's scarlet velvet gown lay crumpled upon the bearskin rug and the mob leader stooped to retrieve it, examining the sensuous moss-like cloth for stiffening patches of drying blood. Reverently, he pressed the stained fabric against his face, as if inhaling the lingering scent of the dead young woman. Finally, he stared at Lord Urquhart with renewed disgust.
"You will pay for this act of violence. Oh, believe me, you will pay. String him up!"
"William!"
Frederica cried out in anguish as two of the masked figures came forward to grasp her husband by the arms and take him away. Lord Urquhart did not put up a struggle and accepted his capture with the dignity of a former military man, looking straight ahead as the executioners led him to his fate through the jeering crowd.
"Hang him from the tower, so that all may see."
Weeping uncontrollably, Frederica could not bear to follow as the crowd surged out of the great hall to witness the lynching from the courtyard before Urquhart Hall. As the vast chamber grew quiet, she realized she was not alone and, hearing the faint rasp of another's breath, looked up into the icy blue eyes of the agent provocateur. Slowly, deliberately, he loosened the scarf which concealed his mouth and laid it against the soiled velvet gown, black on scarlet.
"May she writhe in exquisite torment. And you, my fey princess. What shall you do, now your old man is gone?"
Frederica glared at her captor through a haze of tears.
"You monstrous, murderous bully! Lord Urquhart was worth an army of your wretched kind!"
The stranger smiled enigmatically and traced the outline of the young woman's breasts with one forefinger. Outraged, Frederica moved to slap his face, but he was too quick for her and held her wrists in a vice-like grip.
"Oh indeed. I am a wretched bully. However, I also know what you need, my dear Lady Urquhart. It's been some time, has it not?"
"How do you...?"
"How do I know? Instinct. Intuition. The piquant scent of feminine frustration. I know what you like and I know what you need. Discipline. Stringent, draconian, delicious discipline."
Frederica dabbed at her swollen eyes with a handkerchief, her heart lurching at a sudden roar of triumph from the mob in the courtyard. The ringleader smiled in satisfaction.
"They have strung him up. Your Lord and Master is no more. Now you must make yourself another catch. This time for pleasure, as your fiscal future is assured..."
"Stop it! How can you speak of such things? How dare you? If I were a man, I'd throw down my glove and challenge you to pistols at dawn, you monstrous opportunist!"
Furious, the distraught young woman turned to take her leave of the man, but he clasped her about the waist and pressed his hard mouth upon the soft skin of her throat.
"I'm going to take you, my fine Lady Urquhart. Don't even think about crying for help. No one will come to your rescue. This house has fallen and you'd be wise to pack your jewels and leave, before the brethren decide to lynch you as an accomplice to the crime. That would be a tragic end to a young life only just begun."
"That is blackmail!"
"Yes, I think I shall give you that long overdue spanking. The one you know you need so very badly."
A sea of goose flesh crept from the nape of Frederica's neck to the small of her back and she suddenly found that she could not move, some strange hypnotic force seemed to render her helpless, immobile.
Oh! He is just like Wade – a schoolyard bully with a taste for humiliating the fairer sex. Yet I want to be spanked, God help me! Even at such a time as this. Dear Lord, I am the queen of whores, to long to bare my bottom at my husband's wake.
"What is your name, sir?"
Already drowsy with the trance of submission, Frederica managed to address her captor, who only grinned and slipped her bodice over her breasts, bending down to suckle the full nipples which sprang to attention in the cool air of sudden exposure. Helplessly, she watched him feast upon her fecund bounty, feeling a delicate pulse begin to beat between her thighs.
"You are a delight, Lady Urquhart. My name is of no consequence to a naughty young woman. Take down your drawers."
Just like my cousin. He wants to have me writhe and wriggle upon his lap, spanking me soundly until I glow like the embers in the grate, fiery flesh beneath his disciplining hand.
Slowly, Frederica reached up beneath her heavy skirts and loosened the ribbons of her silken drawers, feeling the smooth cloth stick to the moist place between her legs.
I want him to master me. I would kill this man if I were given a knife, yet I need him to put me in my place. Why?
"Drop them down to your ankles, then lift up your skirts to show me your bottom."
The trembling young woman did as she was bid, feeling the man's gaze linger upon the twin cushions of her creamy buttocks. After what seemed like an eternity, he seated himself in Lord Urquhart's chair and gestured to his lap.
"A fine specimen you are indeed. Lie across my knees. I intend to teach you a lesson you won't soon forget."
Everything has come full circle. My fate as a captive bride began with a spanking and now I lie across the lap of my nemesis like a slut. Yet, I want this. Dear God, how I want this.
"Ow! Ow!"
To Frederica's surprise, the man did not employ the palm of his hand but had managed to procure some form of wooden implement, as if from thin air. Suddenly frightened, she attempted to twist around to see what he was using, but he pushed her head down with his free hand and continued to paddle her reddening cheeks as she squirmed in pain and cried out for mercy.
"Oh please stop! It hurts!"
Again and again, the sadist slapped the heavy oak paddle against her quivering bottom, enjoying the piercing squeals and supplications of his helpless prey. Eventually, when both buttocks were crimson and Frederica had ceased struggling and kicking her feet, he pushed his fingers deep into the wet cleft between her thighs, laughing aloud at his victim's shuddering response.
"My Lady, you will be quite the catch for some fortunate man. On your knees, my dear. Pretend you're a little lap dog and wag your tail."
Slowly, painfully, Frederica slid down onto the bearskin rug, her bottom stinging and smarting from the painful punishment. Looking up into the steely eyes of the tyrant, she imagined she glimpsed a ghostly figure, reflected in the dilated pupils and recoiled. The man laughed.
"Ah yes – one young lady said she saw a laughing demon in my eyes. Did you see him too?"
Frederica glanced over her shoulder, but they were alone in the great hall. An icy draught shifted the heavy tapestries on the wall, sending a fine cloud of dust motes into the still air.
"I am not afraid of your demons, sir. Neither was I in fear of your mistress, Sydonie."
Suddenly, Frederica snatched up the velvet gown and hurled it into the fireplace, crying:
"And may her wretched dress rest in peace! I commit it to the flames!"
"NO!"
Horrified, the man lunged towards the grate, grasping the poker in a desperate attempt to lift the smoldering garment from the fire, but before he could retrieve it, it burst into a raging conflagration, fierce blue flames reaching up into the chimneybreast. There was a brief hiatus in which they watched the writhing cloth turn to ash, then a dark cloud of sooty smoke began to issue from the fireplace, swiftly forming a black column about six feet high. Frederica's assailant fell to his knees and raised both arms above his head, a look of rapture illuminating his evil face.
"She has risen! You have summoned the Priestess through the rite of fire!"
Two malevolent eyes appeared within the swirling smoke and Frederica scrambled away from the terrifying apparition, feeling the floor beneath her vibrate, as it had just after she crushed the love slave's skull.
"Come, Priestess! Your faithful servants await!"
The man seemed unaware of the growing commotion underground and prostrated himself before the emerging form of his priestess.
"Come, oh bringer of shadows! Extinguish all light and let darkness rule!"
Gradually, Frederica realized that other shadowy forms were materializing, like phantoms stepping from the walls, and she continued to back away from the dreadful scene as the man intensified his incantation.
"Come, queen of evil, Satan's bride. Lead the way to the chamber of secrets..."
A circle of robed figures formed about the spiraling column and Frederica's heart lurched as she glimpsed the white gleam of bone within the deep recesses of their hoods. Skeletal hands stretched towards the undulating body of Sydonie, naked but for the swirling, wraith-like smoke, which seemed to form a diaphanous gown. Grinning skulls began to join in the unholy chant, their loose teeth chattering in a strange language that Frederica recognized as Latin.
"Come, lover of Lucifer! Bringer of eternal night!"
The entire house shook on its foundations, as if rocked by an earthquake, and the young woman found herself at the entrance to the passage leading to the vestibule, just as a powerful shockwave snapped the stout chain suspending the iron chandelier. Horrified, Frederica witnessed the monstrous contraption come crashing down upon the demonic group before she took to her heels and fled, haunted by agonized screams and the sickening crack of splintering bones. Throwing herself through the narrow portal into the marble foyer, she heard a ghastly clattering sound behind her and slammed the door upon a skeletal arm, seeing a severed hand twitch impotently upon the frigid floor. One stone nymph snarled at her with the razor sharp teeth of a jackal and she ran shrieking into the courtyard as the vast edifice of Urquhart Hall began to fall, sharp edged slates and chunks of masonry showering down upon the helpless young woman who cowered behind the fountain, shielding her body from the raining stone. A white gowned figure stepped from the scene of devastation, a beautiful young woman with ebony hair and dark eyes which glinted with a lively light, full of life and mischief, the very image of Frederica but for her Spanish coloring. Silently, she handed her niece the sunflower brooch, then glided off towards the garden, melting like a snowflake into the gnarled trunk of an ancient oak. Helpless tears streamed down the young woman's soot-streaked cheeks as she clutched the precious jewel, suddenly noticing that the nut of cornelian had split into two, revealing the glimmer of a diamond within.
Guard this stone – your future rests upon it now the house is gone.
The heavily accented voice seemed to spring from within Frederica's mind. She closed her eyes against the desolate scene and saw, in brilliant colors, her beloved mother, joyful and gay, arranging orange roses in a sky blue vase.
All will be well, with you and your child. Be happy at last, my precious love.
"Oh, Mama! Mama!"
Weeping freely, Frederica clasped the shining gem to her breast, feeling the child move within her womb and sending a silent prayer towards the slate gray sky.
* * * *
Six months later, a proud Frederica set sail f
or the West Indies with her newborn son, William John Roe Urquhart, a small but healthy child with his mother's red hair and his father's cool gray eyes. The sale of the precious gemstone had assured a comfortable lifestyle in the old country, yet Frederica longed for adventure, her parents' restless blood adding to the thrill of her new found freedom. Having purchased a coffee plantation on a lush tropical island, she embarked upon the journey at Liverpool. During the course of the voyage, she met the man who would become her second husband, a young Irish doctor named Joseph Mallusk.
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow –
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand –
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep – while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
–Edgar Allan Poe
BETWEEN THE RHYTHM AND THE BASS LINE
If we're lucky, we experience a particular moment in our life, a time that captures the very essence of what it means to be young and free. For me, it was 1969, the summer that Vancouver went crazy. The population was swollen with Vietnam draft dodgers. Hippies built bonfires on the beach and sat in circles about the flames, playing guitar, singing the latest protest songs, espousing love not war, baby. And love, apparently, was free.
I was working as a junior reporter for a major west coast paper, a job I loved and lived with a passion. I had a live-in girlfriend, quiet and Japanese, with soulful eyes like burnt almonds. I also had a drinking problem but I didn't admit it then. Everyone was into something and the sweet acrid scent of pot hung on the air. So I liked a few beers. At least I didn't drop acid.