seam, weary, etiquette,
Meanwhile,
in Rhodes
Pleading
pregnancy, with a child he could not possibly have fathered she’d again refused
him, which justified his stripping from the seam of her discarded shift the
coins she had secreted there, leaving her, garlic-greased, asleep and
unsuspecting, and heading for the docks to find a vessel to ship him home.
He was weary of misunderstanding
foreign etiquette, had weeks ago decided to return, certain by now his misdeeds
would be forgot as thoroughly as his guilt.
Indeed, he was now a better man, else the child of that promiscuous
bitch would have gone the way his brother’s woman’s had.
[2] crown,
sterile, orphan
Departing
Rhodes
Mast
crowned with France’s fleur-de-lis
promised safer passage than the star and crescent Ottoman while he, full-grown,
possessed of all his limbs, offered better than the orphaned dockside dross
touting themselves as crew.
Speed
a consideration: if she should come accusing he wanted not to prove infidelity
by citing his sterility; needed only to
change his stated nationality from Turk to Portuguese until safe arrived in
France.
Anchor
weighed, middle watch, an almost-silent footfall then a slender blade against
his throat.
‘Tao? That price still on your head?’
‘No. He died, no money.’
‘No-one
to continue?’
‘No-one.’ A necessary lie.
[3] incite, septic,
thread
Encounter
en route from Rhodes
He
spotted him the third day, knew he’d
been identified the fifth. Ensured the
inevitable took place at night.
‘You
survived.’
‘No
thanks to you, milord, found a whore who knew cobwebs stopped wounds going
septic...’
‘That
old wives tale! You’re still carrying?’
‘You
still inciting rebellion? My price has
doubled.’
‘My
allegiance has changed, you’d benefit...’
‘I
benefit only from gold...’
‘And
silence as to your whereabouts, I’ve heard.’
Rope-roughened
fingers snagged threads of silk cravat.
Aristocratic
features coarsened, croaked, ‘Mine too, of course, Ma...’
Grasp
loosened, growled, ‘Know that, and that aboard I’m Portuguese and known as
Tao.’
[4] vine oddity hoard
Opening negotiations
Through
the Straits, heading north, middle watch.
‘Four
days to Lisbon?’
‘Three,
milord, should the wind stay fair.’
‘I
have a proposition. You disembark
there?’
Tao
switched the tobacco plug hoarded in his cheek, ‘No.’
‘Could you?’
‘Depends.’
‘Gold,
of course.’
Contemptuous
acknowledgement.
‘A
short journey, to a vineyard.’
‘And?’
‘A
man whose death would be... convenient.’
‘It’s
an oddity, milord, but this echoes...’
‘Regrettably,
some people never learn.’
‘Not
even you, it seems.’
‘My
sister: over trusting.’
His
sister? He hadn’t realised that. How she’d scratched! And screamed: would likely even louder this time.
‘All
right.’
‘Name
your price.’
Unmoving, patient resignation, Tao told the man who threatened him, ‘Not me; my brother. He the yellow-bearded Cain deserving capture, I blameless Abel, seeking his reform.’
[5] vine oddity hoard
Dressing the part
‘Name
your price.’
The
fancy-mannered shyster hadn’t meant it, never did; he hoarded gold as he did
his daughters’ virginities; sweet fruit of his vine.
Lisbon
approached before hands were spat upon and shaken. Tao disembarked, disguised in a
beggars-can’t-be-choosers oddity of his employer’s fourth-best outer
garments. (Last time he’d been a
bible-clutching Dominican, seeking influence and alms.)
At
the vineyard gate he was admitted at the showing of a letter, welcomed, wined
and dined with courtesy, unrecognised.
(As black friar he’d been beyond suspicion; later, in the chambered dark, unspeaking,
vehement and vilipendous, he’d remained unknown).
Tomorrow,
the business.
[6] vent, clock, save
Tao does the business
The clock
on the cupola above the archway to the stables must have stopped; it gave the same time – sixteen minutes past
five – as it had some four silent, stealthy, knife-slipping minutes ago. He’d originally thought to follow him to the
field but it saved time to simply go up to his room: the door had been unlocked, he’d been asleep
and unsuspecting, and there’d been just a venting of a tiny breath, and a
little, soon-staunched blood.
Much as,
earlier, had come from her, though that had taken all of seven minutes, once
he’d blindfolded and gagged her.
[7] vent,
clock, save
Job done
Gagging
unnecessary once she’d overcome her shock: he needed only to ensure she hadn’t
clocked him. In her position she’d not
have many men willing to give her such a ride, not with her husband likely to
vent death and mutilation if ever what they’d done became known.
Saving God’s
bones, ‘twas to be hoped that he was deaf as well as impotent, the cry she’d
given as she came, despite his haste for his own satisfaction. Blood was his, from where her nails had raked
him.
Rashly, she’d believed he’d take her with him,
another reason for the blindfold.
[8] Bare necessity history, oak,
eccentric
She’d asked for it.
Twenty minutes down the road he’d halted in a
grove of Spanish oak to remove the eccentric clothes of aristocracy and return
to quasi-humble sailor.
In pursuit, and though she’d never seen his face
she recognised his naked back as she rode past, she offered – needed – him to repeat the night’s
amours.
Which, nothing loth, he took her up on, despite his
time and tide constraints. Afterwards
she took it as granted they’d continue forth together, threatened to inform
when he refused.
Given his history, it was a mistake. His justification was she’d asked for it.
[9] Bare faced necessity history, oak,
eccentric
Lisbon tavern, beetled oak awash with straw and
vomit, midden-layered history and today’s news.
Tao learnt the ship he’d disembarked from had not
yet sailed. Should milord hear of his
sister’s fate life could get short: he’d
shaved his beard, walnut-dyed his skin (smelt eccentric but convinced) and changed his clothes, again.
A man Tao had arranged to meet, claiming to have
letters bound for England slipped into the shadows, hard-tacked as he,
tobacco-breathed a long-discarded name.
‘There’s a warrant out against your life.’
‘Not me.’
Cold steel against his ribs suggested Tao’s word was
not believed.
[10] Bare faced lies jigsaw, capture, pimento
Unmoving, patient resignation, Tao told the man who threatened him, ‘Not me; my brother. He the yellow-bearded Cain deserving capture, I blameless Abel, seeking his reform.’
‘They say there is a way to prove
identity.’
‘Birthmark? Aye, stripped we can be told apart, he bears
a three-piece pimento-stain, jigsaw of a butterfly ‘neath his left arm.’
Implacable. ‘Remove your shirt.’
‘Outside.’
Turning, Tao led the way into the
barrel-piled rear yard, made as if to laboriously lift both shirt and jerkin, awkwardly
twisting. As the mark of Cain appeared;
the man’s eyes occupied with checking,
Tao swiftly slit his throat.
[11] jigsaw, capture, pimento
Change of plan
New-positioned barrel hid the body but was insufficient to disguise the blood pimento-edging of the cobblestones, glistening jigsawed evidence of murder.
Money, knife and letters extracted from the dead man’s pockets Tao, knowing capture likely if knowledge of his birthmark was wide-spread, urgently sought clothing, since his ship of choice sailed within the hour.
A fellow valuing life above modesty solved the first, and the addressee of the letters changed intended destination to Dun Laoghaire, where he’d need to avoid a man who’d vowed to kill him, for the taking of his sister’s virtue, and his wife’s.
[12] Double-crossed duplicity disgrace, lance, trundle
Wooden barrels trundled, echoing, beneath the archway leading to the rear of the Dublin hostelry he’d been directed to.
Portuguese again, under a ten-day beard, and no amateur,
he’d checked escape routes, identified the Englishman awaiting oilskin-packeted
letters who, adamant, declared, ‘Passage was paid in Lisbon.’
‘Not to me, I received them from a dying man, payment on
delivery.’
‘I’ll not pay twice for what is mine.’
Bogus-sanctimonious, ‘Others will be glad to, given the disgraceful
nature of their contents.’
Click of fingers summoned cudgel-carrying accomplices, far too
late, as Tao twisty-threaded ‘tween a passing file of lance-hefting Irish soldiery.
13] cantankerous, oratory, wobble/y
Negotiations
in the dark
Voice as wobbly as you’d expect from a man who
feels cold steel against his balls whilst astride a woman not his wife.
Oratory unimpressive, somewhat soprano: ‘Wha-a-?
Who? Aa-a-rgh!’
Equally performance, judging by the contempt
expressed, in the voice of a
cantankerous crow: ‘Lord Comequickly yet
again!’
Tao’s laugh came out of the darkness.
‘No second coming either, since I’m offering a
second chance to buy your letters. Price
now trebled, unless...’
He paused to check the woman: hair raven, nose rook-hooked and legs as
shaggy, shook his head, repeated ‘Trebled’ and delicately probed with poignard
to underline intent.
14]Some bargains better not struck cantankerous, oratory, wobble/y
Threads of blood mapped the slither of
the Englishman across the sheets, red contours fit for oratory; like all men he
removed his courage with his clothes and now could not seek sovereigns fast
enough.
‘Twas pity, Tao thought, the doxy
didn’t feel the same.
She’d heaved herself to sitting,
instantly obliterating comparisons with birds.
Better pachyderms: flesh wobbly
in the guttering candle-light, tits suet-pudding pendulous, stomach
snail-trailed, sex goose-grease glistened.
Pseudo-seductive whine: ‘You’d do
worse than spend some of his sovereigns on me.’
Cantankerous, his prick agreed, but
Tao talked it down.
‘I’d sooner fuck my grandmother than
you.’
[15]Tao takes a tumble articulate pelt whorl
Because the letters sold in Dublin were naught but well-wrapped forgeries, full pelt exit and disguise were needed.
[15]Tao takes a tumble articulate pelt whorl
Because the letters sold in Dublin were naught but well-wrapped forgeries, full pelt exit and disguise were needed.
Tao had sovereigns enough to buy good clothes, was
sufficiently articulate to inhabit them and pled urgent business so as to
obtain a private cabin on a late-departing London-bound barque.
All of which brought the necessary company to while away the
night.
None of which saved him from arrest on reaching Tilbury,
since too late he discovered the woman in his bed was the mistress of the man
whose pen had writ the fancy whorls of treason, and now awaited the reply.
[16] Tao (and money) talks articulate pelt whorl
The burlier of the murrey and silver-liveried men, growled ‘Struggle and I’ll disarticulate your arms!’
Although his vision was impaired, blood from the head wound they’d delivered adding to the whorls of pain from too much gin and insufficient sleep, Tao struggle-steered towards a crowd of urchins, pelting each other with vegetables fallen from a stall.
Catching the eye of one he spoke a name, which, repeated, brought them to turn and form a circle round the trio.
‘A sovereign if ...’
Hand clamped his mouth but to no avail: fifteen streetwise nippers overcame Tao’s escort and spirited him away.
[17] Tao thinks he may have been too hasty carrion, sleeve, reticent
Kick a corpse to life and you’ll inevitably disturb carrion.
Tao knew this but had believed those who abhorred the trappings of authority were like to have at least a minimal grasp of underworld allegiance.
Nevertheless, introduced, with a tug at his sleeve by the fledging like-to-be-gallows-bird who’d brought him here, he questioned his own sanity in evoking the man whose name in desperation he’d used to instigate his rescue.
A man whose gaze silently persuaded him to say he carried letters he’d be willing to sell on, before assuring, ‘No reason to be reticent here, Mathias, all is known.’
[18] Tao meets his match
Even as Tao recalled the dagger concealed within his sleeve, the man produced and waved it: a death-dealing crucifix.
‘Think that again and ‘twill be you who die. So long as I’ve the letters you stole in Lisbon I’ll stay reticent about your many crimes. The Englishman in Dublin did not require them?’
‘He would not pay.’
‘Hmm, I heard he did. Certainly, I shall not.’
Snake-smiling eyes watched Tao forge his features to neutrality, ‘Not, at least, until you’ve dealt with Carrion Jack.’
‘Dealt?’
’He has a thing of mine.’
‘You want it back?’
‘Not now she’s been used.’
[19]Tao leaps from frying pan to fire altruist, wary, herbs
Carrion Jack presented little threat: Tao knew him of old, they’d fought but also thieved together, once shared a cell.
Jack understood Tao’s abhorrence for altruism; appreciated that receiving payment for his letters necessitated ‘dealing’ with the woman he’d appropriated, but insisted Tao promise not to hurt her:
‘Unwise to kill one who understands the use of herbs, e’en though a witch; necessary you deceive.’
’Witch?’
Tao, imagining old crone, cross-finger swore his oath, only to be instantly made wary when, stepped from the shadows, comely, young with knowing eyes of lichen green, she asked: ‘Had you a brother Gabriel?’
[20]
Tao fights fire with fire
Tao’s stare was red-black accusation, Jack’s innocence opaque: ‘I never said! I never! But I told you to treat witches wary...’
Tao, adamant, to her: ‘My brother’s dead.’
Disbelief: ‘His wife?’
‘Also.’
Eyes tried to slide but hers were pennyroyal effective in aborting Tao’s claims.
‘Herbalists deal with truth not altruism: you left her for dead. I saved her. He near died of grief, survived only upon her living. I’m one of many who’ve sworn revenge on you.’
Tao gathered strength. ‘As I swore to deal with you.’
Jack, mistakenly forgotten: ‘Both of you have first to answer unto me.’
Although his vision was impaired, blood from the head wound they’d delivered adding to the whorls of pain from too much gin and insufficient sleep, Tao struggle-steered towards a crowd of urchins, pelting each other with vegetables fallen from a stall.
Catching the eye of one he spoke a name, which, repeated, brought them to turn and form a circle round the trio.
‘A sovereign if ...’
Hand clamped his mouth but to no avail: fifteen streetwise nippers overcame Tao’s escort and spirited him away.
[17] Tao thinks he may have been too hasty carrion, sleeve, reticent
Kick a corpse to life and you’ll inevitably disturb carrion.
Tao knew this but had believed those who abhorred the trappings of authority were like to have at least a minimal grasp of underworld allegiance.
Nevertheless, introduced, with a tug at his sleeve by the fledging like-to-be-gallows-bird who’d brought him here, he questioned his own sanity in evoking the man whose name in desperation he’d used to instigate his rescue.
A man whose gaze silently persuaded him to say he carried letters he’d be willing to sell on, before assuring, ‘No reason to be reticent here, Mathias, all is known.’
[18] Tao meets his match
Even as Tao recalled the dagger concealed within his sleeve, the man produced and waved it: a death-dealing crucifix.
‘Think that again and ‘twill be you who die. So long as I’ve the letters you stole in Lisbon I’ll stay reticent about your many crimes. The Englishman in Dublin did not require them?’
‘He would not pay.’
‘Hmm, I heard he did. Certainly, I shall not.’
Snake-smiling eyes watched Tao forge his features to neutrality, ‘Not, at least, until you’ve dealt with Carrion Jack.’
‘Dealt?’
’He has a thing of mine.’
‘You want it back?’
‘Not now she’s been used.’
[19]Tao leaps from frying pan to fire altruist, wary, herbs
Carrion Jack presented little threat: Tao knew him of old, they’d fought but also thieved together, once shared a cell.
Jack understood Tao’s abhorrence for altruism; appreciated that receiving payment for his letters necessitated ‘dealing’ with the woman he’d appropriated, but insisted Tao promise not to hurt her:
‘Unwise to kill one who understands the use of herbs, e’en though a witch; necessary you deceive.’
’Witch?’
Tao, imagining old crone, cross-finger swore his oath, only to be instantly made wary when, stepped from the shadows, comely, young with knowing eyes of lichen green, she asked: ‘Had you a brother Gabriel?’
[20]
Tao fights fire with fire
Tao’s stare was red-black accusation, Jack’s innocence opaque: ‘I never said! I never! But I told you to treat witches wary...’
Tao, adamant, to her: ‘My brother’s dead.’
Disbelief: ‘His wife?’
‘Also.’
Eyes tried to slide but hers were pennyroyal effective in aborting Tao’s claims.
‘Herbalists deal with truth not altruism: you left her for dead. I saved her. He near died of grief, survived only upon her living. I’m one of many who’ve sworn revenge on you.’
Tao gathered strength. ‘As I swore to deal with you.’
Jack, mistakenly forgotten: ‘Both of you have first to answer unto me.’
decant, notch
straddle [21]
Double or
quits?
Carrion Jack.
So-called for appearance or his habits? Did he feed upon the dying or sell on commission-fulfilled
kills?
As menace decanted black across hitherto neutral
features, either seemed possible: ‘I’ve a healthy respect for herbalists but
beware, my moss-eyed maiden, I know stronger ones than you. And, Tao, like you, I straddle the law when needful,
but would draw the line at murder of a with-child woman.’
‘She’s not dead.’
‘No thanks to you.
Be warned, that’s a tally-notch against you...’
‘Just one?’
‘The last... and a price upon your head.’
‘As on yours.’
Emerald glinted from the shadows.
[22] demonry, catalogue, abyss
Blinkered confrontation
Neither, gazing into the rough-hewn abyss of suspicion that
had opened up between them, suspected her.
Maternal-trained, both believed the blamelessness of healing; credited her with a catalogue of unequivocally
beneficial deeds.
Neither admitted, e’en to himself, that it was the swelling
promise of her body, and the to-be-quickly-quenched reciprocity of theirs that
created green-eyed demonry between them:
Tao assuming Jack had had her, Jack all too conscious he had not, and well
aware of Tao’s reputation.
She was neither so jaded to have tired of the effect she had
on men.
Nor
so rich as to ignore their bounties. [23] eldritch, manse, aristocracy + syzgy (optional)
Levelling and loyalty
Jack was in the upper-middle echelons of criminal aristocracy within the City, Tao’s status similar but, because more country-wide, marginally less notable.
The manse owned by the holder of Tao’s Lisbon-stolen letters placed him far higher, as did the sovereign-price he’d offered against Jack’s head, whereas that on Tao’s had been raised by his yeoman brother and was of small account, save for the added influence of the eldritch witch.
She, giddily-overconfident, was still too much the novice, badly underestimated cell-mate loyalty, failed to prevent them getting drunk together and misunderstood the head-clearing effects of a syzgy of high-class whores.
[24] turbulent, grunt, handbook
Contemplative conversation
‘I need to convince Cotterdale the task is done...’
Tao’s thoughts were turbulent: Cotterdale’s condition for returning the Lisbon letters was Jack’s death, punishment for his enticement of the herbalist.
They’d watched her walking in the garden, until Jack sighed, ‘Truly callipygian but sadly inexperienced...’
‘Aye, and after last night... ‘ reminiscent, ‘But her handbook’s like to list a disappearing spell?’
Grunted, ‘Likely one to strike me dead! I trust her less than I do you.’
‘She’s more threat to me than you...’
‘Because of your brother’s wife...’
‘You believe that?’
‘It’s not true?’
‘Christ’s undergarments, no, I’m not that stupid!’
[25] piston, charity, trample
‘If you deliver yon jade-eyed maid to Cotterdale will he return your letters? Or must I be seen to die?’
‘He didn’t want her back.’ Tao’s thoughts piston-shunted, ‘but he’ll need a body.’
‘Beat to anonymity some gutter-trampled niddering; Cotterdale doesn’t know me well...
‘And her?’
‘If she insists on chastity, my charity will cease.’
‘She’d exchange chastity for the gold Cotterdale will claim for you; might even pre-empt...’
Derision: ‘She’s already suggested I deliver you to your brother...’
‘He knows what I look like...’
Glitter-smile: ‘Doesn’t stop me doing it for real.. after you claim your letters, of course.’
26 impress, locus, sentient
Body of evidence
‘While knowing you to be a thug, I assumed you to be sentient of my intelligence, of the relativity of my locus in any, shall we say, hierarchy of consequence. Trying to pass off this...’ Lip curled as Cotterdale tentatively toe-turned the body he’d come to inspect, ‘this as Carrion Jack... Tao, you more than disappoint me, you waste my time.’
Unimpressed, Tao frowned. ‘I’ve fulfilled my side of the bargain. Give me my letters and I’ll be gone.’
‘Carrion Jack had a distinguishing tattoo which this body lacks.’
‘Butterfly?’
Cotterdale nodded.
‘Then you’ve been misinformed: that tattoo is mine.’27 caustic, intimate, avenge
Frittering the truth once more
Light from begrimed window candle-supplemented, Cotterdale examined Tao’s ransomed letters.
‘The seal depicts a butterfly...’
‘My mother.’
She’d been old enough, had she whelped at thirteen or thereabouts. From the conscience-caustic vehemence with which she’d cursed him, believed it so, intimacy allowing sight of the three-piece jigsaw of a butterfly ‘neath his left arm.
To avenge he’d let her believe it, knowing his to be not birthmark but tattoo, copied, for confusion, from that of his brother Gabriel.
Alleged brother.
Cotterdale’s mouth sour-twitched acknowledgement of his extra years.
‘Ah, Vanessa - lovely painted lady.’
Snigger: ‘Could be you’re my father!’
28 cover, taboo, endowment Opportunity knocks (winner of the Prediction)
Carrion Jack, temporarily dead, had left his lodgings empty.
Or so Tao believed.
Unwrapping covers from his stolen letters, the first was from a Lady Hartford, detailing an endowment to be paid upon the marriage of her daughter. If there were relationship twixt cash and beauty this one, by the sum, required a veil.
But gold was gold and Tao was pondering on impersonation when, startled from his reverie, he beheld the virgin witchling watching from the shadows.
‘D’you have a potion to make me blind to ugliness, or is that taboo?’
‘I’ll give you one to make you blind.’
29 cover, taboo, endowment
Opportunity seized
Under cover of his breeches, Tao’s two-days-idle-and-complaining cock bestirred itself. The double challenge of a taboo maidenhead and a woman who denied endowments Mother Nature had seen fit to bestow on her was irresistible.
‘You didn’t go with Jack then?’
She’d come close enough to read, e’en upside-down, Lady Hartford’s forty sovereigns offer. Gleam of gold lust indistinguishable from that in Tao’s eyes.
‘He didn’t ask me.’
A lie.
‘This potion... would it be honestly used?’
Hah! Her conscience was as malleable as his.
Upstanding still, Tao’s pseudo-avuncular arm crept round her shoulders. ‘Of course. Let me tell you how.’
30 pungent, heave, asinine
Seduction seized
In his opinion, virgins were over-rated; his idea of heaven was a woman who knew what she was about. Nevertheless, resistance had an appeal: a pungent starter, to be followed by something longer-drawn, more creamy-spiced; an eagerness to please, once they got the taste for it.
As her full-bodied warmth pleased now, her gooseberry eyes expressed desire, albeit for sovereigns and not – yet – what his prick could teach her.
But as his hand began to fondle, it was he received the lesson: a sharp prick of a poignard causing Tao’s eyes to slide unwillingly from leering optimism to painful asinine.
Jack was in the upper-middle echelons of criminal aristocracy within the City, Tao’s status similar but, because more country-wide, marginally less notable.
The manse owned by the holder of Tao’s Lisbon-stolen letters placed him far higher, as did the sovereign-price he’d offered against Jack’s head, whereas that on Tao’s had been raised by his yeoman brother and was of small account, save for the added influence of the eldritch witch.
She, giddily-overconfident, was still too much the novice, badly underestimated cell-mate loyalty, failed to prevent them getting drunk together and misunderstood the head-clearing effects of a syzgy of high-class whores.
[24] turbulent, grunt, handbook
Contemplative conversation
‘I need to convince Cotterdale the task is done...’
Tao’s thoughts were turbulent: Cotterdale’s condition for returning the Lisbon letters was Jack’s death, punishment for his enticement of the herbalist.
They’d watched her walking in the garden, until Jack sighed, ‘Truly callipygian but sadly inexperienced...’
‘Aye, and after last night... ‘ reminiscent, ‘But her handbook’s like to list a disappearing spell?’
Grunted, ‘Likely one to strike me dead! I trust her less than I do you.’
‘She’s more threat to me than you...’
‘Because of your brother’s wife...’
‘You believe that?’
‘It’s not true?’
‘Christ’s undergarments, no, I’m not that stupid!’
[25] piston, charity, trample
‘If you deliver yon jade-eyed maid to Cotterdale will he return your letters? Or must I be seen to die?’
‘He didn’t want her back.’ Tao’s thoughts piston-shunted, ‘but he’ll need a body.’
‘Beat to anonymity some gutter-trampled niddering; Cotterdale doesn’t know me well...
‘And her?’
‘If she insists on chastity, my charity will cease.’
‘She’d exchange chastity for the gold Cotterdale will claim for you; might even pre-empt...’
Derision: ‘She’s already suggested I deliver you to your brother...’
‘He knows what I look like...’
Glitter-smile: ‘Doesn’t stop me doing it for real.. after you claim your letters, of course.’
26 impress, locus, sentient
Body of evidence
‘While knowing you to be a thug, I assumed you to be sentient of my intelligence, of the relativity of my locus in any, shall we say, hierarchy of consequence. Trying to pass off this...’ Lip curled as Cotterdale tentatively toe-turned the body he’d come to inspect, ‘this as Carrion Jack... Tao, you more than disappoint me, you waste my time.’
Unimpressed, Tao frowned. ‘I’ve fulfilled my side of the bargain. Give me my letters and I’ll be gone.’
‘Carrion Jack had a distinguishing tattoo which this body lacks.’
‘Butterfly?’
Cotterdale nodded.
‘Then you’ve been misinformed: that tattoo is mine.’27 caustic, intimate, avenge
Frittering the truth once more
Light from begrimed window candle-supplemented, Cotterdale examined Tao’s ransomed letters.
‘The seal depicts a butterfly...’
‘My mother.’
She’d been old enough, had she whelped at thirteen or thereabouts. From the conscience-caustic vehemence with which she’d cursed him, believed it so, intimacy allowing sight of the three-piece jigsaw of a butterfly ‘neath his left arm.
To avenge he’d let her believe it, knowing his to be not birthmark but tattoo, copied, for confusion, from that of his brother Gabriel.
Alleged brother.
Cotterdale’s mouth sour-twitched acknowledgement of his extra years.
‘Ah, Vanessa - lovely painted lady.’
Snigger: ‘Could be you’re my father!’
28 cover, taboo, endowment Opportunity knocks (winner of the Prediction)
Carrion Jack, temporarily dead, had left his lodgings empty.
Or so Tao believed.
Unwrapping covers from his stolen letters, the first was from a Lady Hartford, detailing an endowment to be paid upon the marriage of her daughter. If there were relationship twixt cash and beauty this one, by the sum, required a veil.
But gold was gold and Tao was pondering on impersonation when, startled from his reverie, he beheld the virgin witchling watching from the shadows.
‘D’you have a potion to make me blind to ugliness, or is that taboo?’
‘I’ll give you one to make you blind.’
29 cover, taboo, endowment
Opportunity seized
Under cover of his breeches, Tao’s two-days-idle-and-complaining cock bestirred itself. The double challenge of a taboo maidenhead and a woman who denied endowments Mother Nature had seen fit to bestow on her was irresistible.
‘You didn’t go with Jack then?’
She’d come close enough to read, e’en upside-down, Lady Hartford’s forty sovereigns offer. Gleam of gold lust indistinguishable from that in Tao’s eyes.
‘He didn’t ask me.’
A lie.
‘This potion... would it be honestly used?’
Hah! Her conscience was as malleable as his.
Upstanding still, Tao’s pseudo-avuncular arm crept round her shoulders. ‘Of course. Let me tell you how.’
30 pungent, heave, asinine
Seduction seized
In his opinion, virgins were over-rated; his idea of heaven was a woman who knew what she was about. Nevertheless, resistance had an appeal: a pungent starter, to be followed by something longer-drawn, more creamy-spiced; an eagerness to please, once they got the taste for it.
As her full-bodied warmth pleased now, her gooseberry eyes expressed desire, albeit for sovereigns and not – yet – what his prick could teach her.
But as his hand began to fondle, it was he received the lesson: a sharp prick of a poignard causing Tao’s eyes to slide unwillingly from leering optimism to painful asinine.
31 Culinary practices salvo, modesty function
Tao’s belching of a salvo of half-chewed pickled herring caused the jade-eyed maid to flinch, her eyes to water and her grasp to loosen on the knife she’d tucked against his ribs. Twisting her wrist, he placed the blade against her bodice. With every breath she took threads snapped, threatening her modesty, star-patterning her skin.
‘The functions of a prick, sweetling, are myriad; they slice,’ (he demonstrated, opening a further inch) and they subdue. Alternatively, satisfying a need will earn you gold, and far more pleasurably than this.’
‘Touch me and ‘twill be more than herrings pickled for next winter.’
32 Sport of kings? disarm, spurt, jockey
Impatient at the everlasting skirmishing with this half-taught, full-tempting sorceress Tao allowed the tip of the blade to slit her bodice to her waist. Momentarily disarmed by the lush bounty which sprang forth, he recovered fast enough to halt the fingers gouging for his eyes, to push her to the floor, lift skirts, spread thighs, shove in and ride her as would the winning jockey of the 2,000 Guineas on Newmarket’s Rowley Mile, his final spurt equally triumphant.
From behind him, ‘You’ll live to rue the day...‘
Carrion Jack!
‘...not from me, I’m already afflicted.’
‘I was not the first?’
33 ‘Twas ever thus ...
For a just-raped maiden she was smugly sanguine, facing the brutes whose cocks had informed their base behaviour.
’Neither of you were the first, but rest assured every man who spurts his seed into my body suffers the consequences of his stable-jockeyed lust! Except ‘rest’ misleads...’
‘She speaks truth, God’s wounds! Unnatural woman, disarming men by bringing burning agony to their manhood...’
‘’Burning’?’ Tao examined his currently soft-curled cock, nestling damp and fully-spent.
‘Aye, when I piss ... e’en the smallest drop doth bring red hot needles... as for fucking, I’m incapable.’
Triumphant: ‘And will be for a twelvemonth more.’
34 Who’s cocky now?
Tao’s laugh was full-bellied, as befit a man who’d just satisfied his lust. ‘You, sweet hocus-pocus maid, rely too much on old wives’ potions, antiquated spells such as may fill the gullible with fright, whereas men who know the world take due precaution...’
He turned, intending to include Jack, assuming his complaining but a joke, but perceived him huddled, protective of his nether parts.
‘Christ, Jack, don’t tell me ... you were so dim-sighted as to forget the necessary ointment, the essential herbs?’
‘Aye, but...’ Jack nodded beyond Tao, ‘Even they’ll not save you from a naked blade... Watch out!’
35 Upon reflection
The sideboard must’ve been inherited, so antiquated its intricately-carved design, wooden grapes bloomed by decades of dust, as was the dimsighted mirror, part obscured by pewter plates and bottles. But Tao hadn’t failed to see the wench he’d raped roll and retrieve the slender-bladed knife she’d earlier used to stab him, the one whereby he’d slit her clothes.
Jack’s warning had been superfluous; he’d seen her rise, watched her movement in the glass, reached to grasp her wrist and wrench it away.
As Jack also did.
Arms, bodies, collided, tangled, fell, leaving a huddle of red-stained cloth upon the floor.
36 Muttered conversation escort utility heresy
The bandaging was utilitarian: bed-sheets, old, un-washed.
Had to be redone, first time almost immediately, so fast the scarlet spread. The third looked like to last, at least for the journey.
That had necessitated some discussion, following accusation, blame, denial, before acceptance that what was done could not be undone - strange how some folks believed admitting fault a heresy against their mortal soul.
‘Why there?’
‘Was where it started...’
‘But, will care be taken?’
‘Who cares?’
‘You don’t?’
‘Don’t tell me you do!’
‘You have a cart?’
‘Aye, and I’ll need an escort... you’ll need to hide your face.’
37 Keen to survive?
The cart was clean and sturdy, the horse patient as Job.
‘Better utility than racehorse for these roads.’
Which sounded sensible to start but progress was slow enough for us to act as escort to a hearse – groans from the cart, once the opiate wore off, matching the keening of the widow (and like more genuine, since the dead man had been old but wealthy and she was young and pretty).
Later that was given as the reason for recovery, but at the time the sudden sitting up was shocking – heretical raising of the dead which smote the widow’s conscience.
38 Patience is a virtue? defeat, crafty, malefaction
Who was the craftier? Tao who, on perceiving he was passenger, immediately lay down again or Carrion Jack who, upright, was equally as capable of manipulative malefaction and false flattery (if not yet fornication, thanks to the demurely-wrapped damsel beside him).
The accidental knife-slash to her face was shallow, would with care and ointments heal to a silver thread more intriguing than detracting. For the nonce she was forced to silent observation and, perceiving eventual riches, content to masquerade as Tao’s wife, whilst closely watching Jack console the weeping widow.
Now funeral-bound, she assured herself the men’s defeat could wait.
39 ... and patients bring their own reward numerous swell invent
Her reasons for travelling with the men were numerous. Tao needed delivering to his brother for revenge (as promised), Jack needed to acquire gold (and quickly) and she needed their protection, both on the road and for the future.
Knowing Jack’s affliction and that the widow was doomed to short-term disappointment she invented for herself the role of physician , offered her a herb-based cream.
‘As soon as he starts to swell, release him from his breeches and apply this in an upward motion, with your fingertips.’
The widow expressed gratitude until the sum of three guineas was smilingly requested.
40 Balance of possibilities distortion trammel implausible
Recovering, Tao would not admit the implausibility of her actually wanting to be his wife; ignoring the necessary distortion of reality to effect their masquerade ...
And what a masquerade this funeral: cloud-headed widow whose black-lace-wrapped twin assets caused several septuagenarians to wonder whether ‘twas best to live a few more careful years or follow the dead man’s example; their thinking “What a way to go” untrammelled by the sight of Jack’s comparative, deceptively-upstanding youth.
But was it so implausible? Tao had certain... merits and while untrammelled now, she’d need provide for when the distortion of her belly became obvious...
41 Jack tips the balance bristling, ejective, crossroad
Muttered, ‘Take the cart, this weeping widow’s proving more ejective than I’d hoped. I’ll catch you up.’
‘How will you know which way we’ve gone?’
‘Leave a sign at each crossroad... You’re still delivering Tao to his brother?’
‘He deserves it.’
‘More than the child in your belly needs a father?’
‘It could be yours...’
‘It couldn’t. Even had Tao not been too incapacitated to go for the widow’s gold I’d not hitch myself to you. I’m not sure even he deserves you.’
Bristling indignation lit her eyes. ‘Then why follow me?’
Gleam of amusement. ‘To see where you lead.’
42 Panning for gold surge, hypnotic, bouquet
The widow’s wreath resembled a bouquet; the gold-spangled promise of her bosom causing a surge of would-be spouse-replacements to near-tumble her into the open grave.
Jack, lacking mourning but not the wit to grab her, held tight unto the wake, where the jousting started.
First challenger a not-yet-shaving youth, sweet-breathing pretty phrases: bloody-gummed, he was struck dumb.
Second, a chinless possessor of a peerage; sans britches his lack of inclination for the lady all too obvious.
Third, a charlatan, voice hypnotic as honey: Jack’s questions revealing honeycombed ignorance.
Jack, chivalrous, insisted wedding bells be rung prior to bedding the bride.
43 surge, hypnotic, bouquet
Uncertain whether it was delirium or returning lust Tao pondered on the hypnotic way the rounded brown haunches of the horse moved rhythmically between the fat shafts of the cart, the blonde fall of the tail a veil, allowing glimpses of what lay between, before concealing once again.
The girl was walking, gathering herbs and flowers into an untidy bouquet. She’d sidled him a surprisingly provocative glance from beneath her brim, which cause suspicion (and another surge – better directed!)
A copse ahead. He’d stop there, see how much she meant it.
Time for a woman’s soothing hand upon his ...
44 Weighing the odds amber, travesty, undone
If she persuaded him to marry her, how much of a travesty would it be? Certainly this child needed a father and he was as likely as anyone – well, any one of four. Carrion Jack had been easily fooled – thought he’d been the first; she’d been quite proud of her weeping and wailing that what had been done could never now be undone, her virtue all in tatters. Similarly the others.
But she’d been under no illusion Tao’d not read her duplicity, her spurious credentials; only he’d been knowing enough to see the flies in the amber of her purity.
45 Copse robbed bury, sacred, vibrato
Within the copse a tiny chapel, dedicated to the Goddess Alemona.
‘Ale? I like the sound of that ...’
‘Not beer: babies, unborn babies. She protects them...’
‘Unsuccessfully, else why the need to bury them?’
‘Not all thrive, even with her help...’
‘D’you want yours to thrive or die?’
‘...You have a say in it too...’
Tao’s laughter, over-loud vibrato, echoed within the sacred walls.
‘Not me, sweetling. While I enjoy the planting I’ve long known nary a weed will grow. You should’ve blamed Jack ere he chose the widow’s wealth. And I insist you make amends for your trickery.’
46 Short term considerations threshold, grate, invert
Stood on the threshold of the best room the Fleece Inn had to offer, sweet-smelling applewood burning in the grate, and certain as she could be that once this brat was born she’d want no more, she could see the merits of an inverted sort of wedlock, one which granted her status, wealth and influence, where faithlessness wasn’t flagged by claims of paternity.
She appreciated Tao’s brand of lustiness; anticipated a repeat performance ere they slept.
Tomorrow they’d need move fast, further north-west, since yesterday, from mistimed disgruntlement, she’d warned his brother of their approach, knowing Gabriel had vowed revenge.
47 Fleeing the Fleece whelp, blatant, impotent
Some second sense alerted him, one more effective than hers, for all her boasting. Perhaps the whelp she carried drained her powers; ‘twas blatant clear she’d intended to betray: her first utterance had been revenge
Their chamber overlooked the stables: the just-dismounted man a gaunter version than he’d seen before but undoubtedly was brother Gabriel. Alone, but likely angered enough for the strength of ten.
Take or leave her? For the nonce she was keen enough. When that palled he’d sell her back to Jack, who’d know Tao’s impotence meant the child was his.
He dragged her from the bed.
48 Priorities muckrake, gloss, trappings
Damn the jade-eyed minx!
On any other day her silk-fingered importunings would have glossed the
day; this morn they near fatally delayed.
Gabriel could now be heard downstairs. He’d not gold enough to loose the landlord’s
mouth, fist-pounding in frustration.
Opening the lattice, warning, ‘Silence, maid. I’ll slit your throat ‘ere I slit his,’ Tao bundled
out his penitent, maybe-to-be bride onto the gently sloping thatch below.
He’d exchanged the muckraked cart for something with the trappings
of gentility; ‘twas but the matter of a moment to harness Gabriel’s mount
between the shafts, flick the reins and make their getaway.
49 Caught napping hateful, branch, throne
Like king and queen upon a throne, in red-upholstered comfort, they
set out west towards where Gabriel had his forge.
‘He’ll expect me to do the opposite; we’ll turn off where the road branches for
the coast...’
But lack of sleep and unaccustomed easy-motion caused the pair to
doze. The horse knew well which way to
go and by the time they woke the forge was not far hence.
Similarly well-known the horse itself; what it pulled less so. Drew attention though, and enough folk saw the
driver was not Gabriel.
Enough folk recognised Tao.
Knew of Tao’s hateful
deed.50 Village Counsel interbreed, calibre, unclean
Rumour, interbreeding with suspicion, inevitably births mob rule.
‘Where’s Gabriel?’
‘Don’t know but that’s his horse ...’
‘Black-hearted rogue’s like to’ve killed him ...’
‘Gabriel dead? Someone better tell his wife...
'Who’s the wench’
‘Dirty Drusilla’s maid...’
A snort, ‘Maid? Aye, she said she’d return him...’
‘But not at the price of a man the calibre of Gabriel... Can she be trusted?’
Other men sniggered. One, scarlet faced, muttered, ‘Likely not, as unclean a bitch as her mother...’
Twenty yards away, Tao reined in the horse.
Reached beneath the seat.
Pulled forth a gun.
Held it to her head
52] Tao tries
a little reassurance fallacy,
visage, anoint
Softly, ‘What you’ve told me of your
high-standing appears mere fallacy if their faces approach truth. They’re not about to anoint you with sweet
oils of welcome, nor look to be too distraught should I fire this gun and blow
your pretty brains out...
‘So silent, my would-be wife? Perchance you’ve spotted the approaching
gruesome-visaged dame, who’d be well advised to close her mouth lest that
lonely tooth drop out... She smiles, I
think. Do I see a family likeness twixt
her and you? T’would be well for me to
study the dam ere I think to wed the lamb.’
51 Dirty tricks
Mutterings warned Drusilla not to approach too closely to the man
whose gun threatened her daughter’s life, e’en as the mob parted to permit her
passage. Rarely seen in daylight she
shocked the elders who’d known her, biblically, who’d pressed themselves
against her alabaster skin, soot-pitted pores of which now close resembled
leaf-mould.
She halted twenty feet
before them.
Described some swift finger-writ message in the air, whereupon
her daughter’s face became yellow waxwork.
‘She curses you?’ Tao, mildly incredulous.
‘I stole her magic...’
‘Then she cannot harm...’
Premature:
his pale passenger slumped against him, causing his gun to fall.
52 Tao loses his anonymity curio, inherit. temerity
A moment of hiatus: Drusilla
halted, mob silenced, Tao frozen between the need to support the lolling girl
and rescue his regrettably unreliable curio of a firearm.
Silence swelled
Then, movement at the rear, among the women. Men turned to see. A murmur, a parting, like the Sea of Galilee.
A solitary, semi-twisted figure, supported by a stick.
Silence began to ring.
Voice clear as glass, she spoke. ‘The laws of inheritance were turned upside down the day you were
born, Mathias. No man, having done what
you have done, would have the temerity to return. And expect to survive.’
Mathias.
Three years since he’d last been called that name.
The vicious repetition of it sounded as a sibilant hiss, spreading towards him as would a tide of snakes, venom-charged, vowing to strike him dead.
Unremarked beside him Drusilla’s daughter grasped the unwieldy weapon.
The hissing ceased, eyes looked beyond him.
Tao turned, beheld his brother Gabriel, astride a horse.
Blood boiled between them.
Gabriel growled revenge.
The Parish Priest, who’d cited Gabriel’s calibre, cried ‘Let not mob-rule prevail! The law’s the framework of our civility – he ought not hang without a trial!’
Drusilla’s daughter raised and aimed the blunderbuss.
56] drab,
gestation unbecoming
While the wickedly interrupted gestation of her twins hadn’t
killed the blacksmith’s wife; nothing, it appeared, could save her womb,
therefore, believing it unbecoming in a wife not to breed, facing the wrong -
and wavering uncertain - end of an ancient blunderbuss mattered little.
A triangle of tension formed twixt her and the justice-minded
priest ten yards to her left and Drusilla’s daughter ditto, right, atop
the cart; Mathias in momentarily dumb attendance.
Gabriel continued to approach on horseback.
The drab-dressed mob formed a silent semicircle around them.
Drusilla’s daughter swung and re-aimed the blunderbuss.
Mathias whispered ‘Careful!’
57] foxglove garnish tableau
For a count of four heartbeats the tableau remained frozen. Then Mathias murmured, ‘Why aim at the priest?’
For a count of four heartbeats the tableau remained frozen. Then Mathias murmured, ‘Why aim at the priest?’
‘He banished me, having found me distilling digitalis from foxgloves.’
‘To use on?’
Gabriel’s wife… but, since Gabriel also spurns me...’ She
swung the gun again, aiming at the man approaching.
Squeezed the trigger.
‘No!’ Mathias seized and raised her arm.
Too late. The blunderbuss exploded. Mathias and the wench
fell back, Drusilla’s daughter’s brains grey-garnishing Mathias’ scarlet ruined
face, their mingled blood filling and disguising the hole that had appeared in
the centre of his chest.
58] Finale, provenance, godforsaken, answer
‘There’s your answer,’
growled Gabriel to the quavering priest, ‘The godforsaken shun the law where it
decries their deeds. Reject society’s
provenance for civilised behaviour. If
ever man deserved to die ‘twas him...’
‘And the maid?’
‘She pulled the trigger!
’Tis rare a weapon kills he who holds it.
Rarer still he who ordered it to fire.
A blunderbuss is notorious for its unpredictability. They got what they deserved.’
Drusilla, dry-eyed, stood
before them.
‘Gabriel speaks truth.
I’d not wish my daughter dead, e’en for the damage done to his wife’s
womb. God willing, there’s chance of her
now breeding.’
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