Trapped with a Way Out

by Jeffery Martinez

  " 'What, with my tongue in your tail?' " he said before he could stop himself. Lady Richard looked deeply scandalized and prepared to withdraw, and Count Ramos moved quickly to do damage control. " 'Nay, Good Kate; I am a gentleman.' "

  Unable to resist wordplay from the Bard himself, she turned to engage him.

  "Do you not mean curst, dear Kate?"

  " 'A common house Kate,' you'll call me next," she smiled with a mock dismissive wave. "And what shall you say now? 'A bonny Kate?' 'The prettiest Kate in Christendom, Kate of Kate-Hall, a super-dainty Kate, for dainties are all cates?' "

  "Forsooth," he replied in iambic pentameter, " 'Hearing thy mildness praised in every town, thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded-' "

  " 'Yourself are mov'd to woo me for thy wife,' " she concluded, a little bitterly.

  Her smile was gone and her eyes narrowed to hide the shine of tears, and she seemed ready to withdraw.

  The Count stood in alarm, and asked her, "What ails thee, fair Kate?"

  " 'Kate the curst,' you should mean," she said, a little peevishly. "I know they speak of me in shrewish terms. Oh, they praise my mildness and my virtues in the realm of purity and piety, but in tidings such as these they speak my tongue of serpents and toads."

  " 'And now I find the report a very lie,' " the Count said with confidence, " 'For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous; But quick in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers-' "

  "Petruchio said the same before he wed the curst Kate and starved her like his falcon," Richard said, no longer impressed with the comparisons. "Should I trust your same exact words? Today you speak of flowers and honey, but once I consent to marry you shall I expect you to 'kill a wife with kindness'? Break me as you would break a falcon?"

  "I have no reason or desire to break you, my lady," he said with deadly seriousness; all ounce of playfulness before was gone.

  "But why?" she asked. "Would you not want a gentle house Kate instead of a curst Kate?"

  "Only you have talked of 'curst' since I arrived," the Count said. "Have I ever spoke of curst tongues or shrewish wenches?"

  Richard was silent.

  "The world is filled with fools, my lady," he said. "And only fools claim to see something that is not there. If fools claim the emperor is wearing grand robes, then I shall call him bear. If the world says Lady Richard is shrewish, then I shall call her sweet, for that is what you are. And if fools say I should see you differently, then let him rot. Turn your waspish tongue on him, and let me revel in the sweetness of your honey."

  She tried to scoff to hide how his words moved her; yet she was silent, and would not look at him.

  "Besides," he smirked. "I rather enjoy your sting."

  She finally laughed, to keep from crying. Then, recovering herself, she continued, "Well... if any man be so unfortunate enough to endure that, he should have no end of that. Besides... I should not give any of my waspish venom at all, even for all the flowers and jewels a fairy could bestow."

  "That's the spirit!" the count cheered, and she laughed between tears.

  They said no more on the subject.

  William overheard Dr. Van Helsing and his son talk about the count at one of their parties. She heard them mention that her master was the kind who liked to push people around, and needed to be pushed back. He had a very quick wit and forceful personality, yet enough charisma to win over a whole crowd. With his sharp tongue and quick mind he could verbally flail a man because he could even think up a response, and do so with grace and style. In a duel of tonues and words, the count could win as easily as a seasoned knight could win a jousting tournament with an unarmed peasant.

  Yet, victory was boring. The Count could talk circles around the wittiest men at parties, and quickly grew bored doing so. The young ladies were all in love with him everywhere he went, and so they were all too busy giggling, tittering, swooning, praising, and agreeing with him to offer any real challenge. There were few people witty or clever enough to keep up with his verbal spars.

  That is, except for Richard King. She was a vastly intelligent young woman with a sharp mind and a quick tongue; although she had learned to temper it from years of conditioning from her father, grandfather, and many religious schools. She learned graceful, ladylike arts at many religious girl's schools. Still, the same sharp wit and independent spirit that put off many young gentlemen found a great admirer in Count Ramos.

  The less she deferred to him, the more he admired her. The more she argued with and back-talked to him, the more excited he became. She could not only match the similes, metaphors, and entendres he threw at her, but she could add to them and match them with her own. She had read extensively on not only the Bible and other religious texts (such as John Milton's Paradise Lost and Dante's Inferno), but she was fast becoming well-versed in music, poetry, classic literature, Shakespeare, and several languages that deserve the word. The odds were good that if the Count thew a quote from the bard or the Bible, she could not only identify it but answer with a quote from the work or author of her own, as easily and effortlessly as though she were remarking upon the weather.

  The Count had spent years longing for a worthy opponent to verbally spar with. Someone not only quick and clever enough, but ruthless and cunning enough to give as good as she got.

  William despaired over their meetings. For the first time since she arrived on land, she truly felt the loss of her voice.

  True, she had run into many inconveniences to her voice before, but now she truly felt from the bottom of her soul the despair of knowing that her loss of speech ruined her chances with the Count. He enjoyed the church girl's wit and fire. He enjoyed engaging conversations, witty retorts, elaborate metaphors and similes, verbal sparring, and so much more. It seemed the more he verbally engaged with Richard, the more he adored her. All William could do was sit, look pretty, and smile dazzlingly. That used to seem to be enough for him before, but wasn't anymore. He could smile appreciatively at her pretty smile and "kind eyes," as he called them, but he did not seem drawn to them. He could enjoy them the way he enjoyed the stars; pretty to look at, but not something that moved him. Even gazing at Richard seemed only mildly enjoyable for him. It was conversations with her that really seemed to pull him toward her, the way he felt pulled to look at the full moon every night it appeared before him.

  William truly felt broken. The pain of the irony sunk to her bones and would not let go.

  O! How he could never guess that she had given up her voice precisely to be with him. If she had her voice she would be at the bottom of the sea, and out of reach. But now that she had given it up, it was exactly what she had sacrificed to be by his side that he wanted most from a woman; what she wanted, but could not have.

  William truly loathed the church girl now; her insides writhed with envy. This beautiful woman who was better than her in every way, including the use of her voice.

  She didn't have any fight in her anymore. It seemed hopeless. William had made a deal that she could not go back on. She remained human only as long as the count had eyes for her. If he married her, she gained a human's soul and would remain by his side even in death. But, once the count married another...

  William curled her toes under the table, as she sat alone at another fancy party.

  This one was even more grand than all the others. The tile floor was so smooth and clean it was like a giant looking glass. Women all wore elegant masks and ballgowns, filled with so many feathers and fans and glittering jewels that they sparkled almost as much as the crystal chandeliers and wall lamps. Gilded paintings lined the walls, and sparkling ciders had tiny bubbles like little stars. People laughed and chatted; with women painted like peacocks and men intricately dressed in black dovetail suits and tuxedos, just like how her master dressed every day.

  Her master was now even more gloriously handsome than ever, in one of his finest and blackest duster coats yet, with his gloves and shirt starched so white it almost hurt the eyes. His
face remained hidden behind a great "Venetian" goblin mask. He was currently chatting it up with Lady King.

  She wore a gorgeous sapphire and emerald silk dress that ruffled at the skirt, with sleeves the tipped below the shoulders, and small flairs of peacock feathers flared from her shoulders. The color looked beautiful on her earthen skin. Her vibrant blonde hair was pulled up into a loose bun, with a tail of hair that hung delicately (and deliberately) at her shoulders. She wore a small "Venetian" mask that looked like a peacock's face, with large peacock feathers fanning out at the crown. No prizes to what her fan looked like.

  "Did you not know, Lady King," the count said in his sultriest murmur, "That it is the male peacock that is so vibrant."

  "How clever of you to notice, good count," the church girl said in pretend mockery, and with obvious affection. "And are you the plain little peahen that shall dance for my approval?"

  "It is the male peacocks who do the wooing, good Lady King," he said.

  "Right so! And is that why you have dressed as quite the cock of the walk, good count?"

  "Only for the perfect hen who will lend me her favor," he smiled, his voice filled with gentle fondness.

  "Then you shall keep looking," she said briskly, feigning disinterest. "For you will find no drab hens here."

  He roared with laughter, and then his eyes softened as he kissed her gloved hand. "Of that, you are quite correct, my lady."

  William made a face and turned her head.

  Tonight could not get any worse.

  She was startled when the band from the orchestra suddenly wavered. She heard frant "ooh!" "ooh!" "ah!" "eep!" "so sorry!" as a chipper young girl made her way along the audience. A chipper voice that sounded familiar...

  William lifted her head. No, it couldn't be.

  The siren Rip Van Winkle, in all her featherly glory except now wearing a "Venetian" bird's mask so she now looked like she was in costume, bounced atop a stage. A murmur rippled along the ball guests as they took note of the strangely dressed girl take the stage, before the band that played the orchestra music they all danced to.

  "So sorry!" she exclaimed in her pretty but accented voice. "I know many of you were expecting the focal talents of La Carlotta, but she cannot make it this evening. Instead, I shall take her place. I haf talked it over with the managers, und so it is all settled. I think you will like what you hear. Enjoy!"

  She winked at William.

  William sat mortified. Oh, no! What'd she do now? How did she find this place? What were she and Harkonnen up to? How could they not...?

  William eventually settled down into sullen indifference. She didn't even care anymore. It wasn't like this was going to work. They could sing and sing and sing, it wouldn't matter. The count would never love her.

  William placed her head back into her folded hands and intended to keep this way all night. This was quickly disrupted when Rip began the song. In her sweet, soft, pretty, chipper voice, she sang out,

  There you see her

  Sitting there across the way

  William' head shot up like a bullet. Her eyes and nostrils flared. Really? REALLY? THIS was her master plan? This song that failed the first time, they were just going to sing it again? Did they have ANY creativity or originality? They were just going to keep singing the same song over and over until they finally got the result they wanted? Well, they WEREN'T going to get what they wanted, because the Count didn't want her. It was that simple, it... it...

  William felt like a dagger stabbed her heart. It was just the way it was. She wished they would just accept it and leave her alone about it, instead of renewing the pain over and over. She placed her head back in her folded arms and intended to wait it out.

  She don't got a lot to say

  But there's something about her

  And you don't know why

  But you're dying to try

  You wanna kiss the girl

  Unfortunately for William, Rip Van Winkle recovered her chest cold. Sirens had some of the most singing voices in all of creation; laced with magic that compelled all to obey them. These were the same voices that lured sailors to their deaths out at sea, for when these homely bird women called for men to come to them, as they sat perched over the shaggy rocks of abandoned islands, the sailors felt compelled to obey... and either crashed their ships or drowned in their attempt to reach them. In this same way, when the siren Rip Van Winkle sang a song ordering men to go to the women they desired to "kiss the girl," then all felt compelled to obey her. Man or woman, fish or human, her voice affected all without distinction.

  It was slow at first; she did not put too much force into her enthralling voice. Very slowly, very gradually, men felt drawn to the women they desired even before the song. Some lucky couples included husbands who felt drawn to walk over to their wives. Other husbands felt drawn to that beautiful unmarried woman across the dance floor, or that pretty serving girl refilling the horderves plate. Some young bachelors talked a little more personally with the unmarried girls they had been flirting with, while others slowly broke off from the conversations with girls they were talking to and crossed the room to another girl altogether.

  The siren's voice was laced with magic that defied all marriage conventions and class structures. Some men went for women who were not their wives, some went for girls above or below their stations, and others went for women far older than them, even if society would have frowned upon it. The women were not altogether unaffected by the men, either. The women felt lulled into a sort of pleased dazed, ready to be serenaded by whomever might want their attention. And if the man showing them with attention happened to be one she fancied even before the siren's song took hold, the more pleased she felt.

  Yes, you want her

  Look at her, you know you do

  It's possible she wants you, too

  There is one way to ask her

  While this was going on, Pip Bernadotte found himself staring curiously at William, whose back was to him. She looked so small and sad and alone, sitting by herself at an empty table in a party filled with happy lovers, like no one in the world loved her. She wore white at this masked ball, with white feathers on her shoulders an a white swan mask that highlighted her innocent, childlike, virginal appeal. She'd always been a sweet and beautiful young girl, from what he could see, but she was the boss's ward. And the Count had made it very clear that, while he had no intention of marrying her, he would not consent to have another man look at her as well. And Pip Bernadotte, who valued his job (and quite possibly his freedom), always tightly suppressed his regard for the girl he secretly loved.

  Not that it really mattered, she seemed determined to avoid him now more than ever, as she literally fled every time she saw him, so it was not as though she would agree to dance with him even if he asked her.

  But now, thanks to the magic of the siren's song, his inhibitions slowly melted away. He watched her from his designated spot by the wall, as the urge to go over and ask her to dance slowly grew stronger and stronger.

  There is one way to ask her

  The song finally won, and he resolved to walk over and ask her to dance, consequences be damned.

  It don't take a word

  Not a single word

  Go on and...

  He approached her, heart pounding in his chest, resolving to ask her for one dance; and if she said no or his boss shot him on sight, that would be that. But as it was, all he could think of was asking for that one dance.

  Kiss the girl

  No sooner did he reach the table did some other patron (that damned Arthur Helsing himself!) swoop in and charmingly ask for her hand. Stunned, William almost reflexively accepted, and no sooner did she hold out her hand did the man pull her to her feet and start waltzing with her on the dance floor. At that same exact moment, the music swelled.

  Sha-la-la-la-la-la

  My, oh, my

  Look at the boy, too shy

  He ain't gonna kiss the girl

&n
bsp; The music picked up and couples swirled with the speed and ferocity of the music. William seemed dazed and numb as Arthur Helsing led her through the forest of fanned skirts and masked lovers. Arthur himself seemed intensely happy to be dancing with her, and led her a little too quickly and forcefully through that rippling crowd.

  Sha-la-la-la-la-la

  Ain't that sad

  Ain't it shame, too bad

  You gonna miss the girl

  The music taunted him. Any thought Pip might have had of leaving William alone and letting her dance with others vanished with the siren essentially told him that if he did not take action now, did not make his feelings known, he would "miss the girl." Pip resolved to catch up to her and ask her to dance.

  As this went on the music slowed, and the dancers slowly started changing partners. Pip wove his way around the dance floor, trying to find the perfect opportunity to ask William to dance, but as he drew close Abraham Van Helsing walked up and took her from Arthur Helsing, who found another nearby partner, and the two spun off. God-damnit!

  For a while, the orchestra played slow yet cheerful music, so the lovers could talk as they danced at a reasonable pace. Abraham van Helsing spoke to her in that meantime; friendly words from a kindly, elderly young man to a sweet child who needed to be reassured that she was still wanted in a world that seemed to forget her.

  Pip was growing desperate. The two eventually drifted apart and switched partners again, but thanks to some careless couple spinning in his way William drifted on to some young buck who took her up and started spinning away with her.

  Slowly and romantically, the music drifted on.

  Now's your moment

  Floating in a blue lagoon

  Boy, you better do it soon

  No time will be better

  Many couples were starting to switch partners again, and Pip felt determined that this time, he would be the one.

  The music swelled.

  She don't say a word

  And she won't say a word

  Until you kiss the girl

  William spun away from her partner, smiling with her eyes closed as as she floated light as a feather through space.