Storiesonline.net ------- Dropping All Pretense by Openbook Copyright© 2006 by Openbook ------- Description: In a time when position and status are fixed and immutable, Stuart Allen finds himself pulling a barge across a river. Ferrying others to and fro while he collects tiny sums for all his efforts. One day, something happens, something that changes everything for him. How will he handle such a change? Codes: MF fant rom cons het mastrb pett ------- ------- Chapter 1 My name is Stuart Allen, a freeman, beholden to no man on this earth. I stood up on the barge, looking across the river at the two horsemen waiting for me to come and ferry them across. Being a ferryman on an insignificant little tributary like the Upper Remark River isn't a glamorous position. It pays poorly, hard work though it is, and there were no chances for either advancement or adventure. What possible excitement could you expect when you spent your whole day traveling between two muddy banks, both separated by less than a hundred yards of roiling river. I pulled the barge and myself across slowly, hoping my drawing the transit time out would prevent complaints of overcharging from my soon to be passengers. While I pulled the barge towards my fares, I found myself wondering, for the ten thousandth time at least, why I was always sitting on the opposite side of the river from the side where my fares were waiting. You would think it would be about fifty/fifty, and half the time you'd already be on the side that the passenger needed to leave from. Three years now I had been the ferryman at this narrow bend in the river, and in all that time I've been on the correct bank no more than twenty five per cent of the time. Half of the time, when it turned out I was on the correct bank, it was only because there were fares waiting to be crossed on both sides at once. When that happened, of course, it just meant I'd have no opportunity to rest my arms before being required to pull the barge back in the direction I'd just come from. It was a hard way to scratch out a meager existence. "How much to cross the two of us and our horses, boy?" I can tell you that I didn't much care for the slight whine I was already hearing in the stranger's voice. The other one had his head turned away from me, and was staring back at the road he'd just traveled. "One copper for the passenger, and two for the horse." "I won't pay that, damn me if I will. I'll wade my horse across this tiny trickle first." "Yes sir, and that's your right, your grace. It's a wise man that know's the value of a whole copper." The other horseman barked out a high pitched squeak that might have served as his laugh. I couldn't be certain who the man was laughing at. If it was at me though, I didn't like it much. It wasn't me that set these fares for a crossing, it was Squire Appleton who was responsible. It was worth my job too if I ever let someone cross for less. "I'll pay you three coppers for the two of us and our horses. Take it, or be damned, you vulgar get." "He speaks only for himself boatman. I'll not risk to get drowned to save thruppence." That voice belonged to a lass and naught but. She kicked her mount forward onto the barge, leaning down from her saddle to press the three coppers into my hand. I looked up to say my proper thanks to her, and was struck near dumb by her comely looks. She looked to be my age, nigh on twenty years, and none more. Her teeth were whitest white, reflecting the good diet that bespoke gentry. As soon as she had lighted from her mount and caught her balance, I pulled on the rope and set us towards the far shore, leaving her companion to stare after us, surprised that I had ended his brilliant negotiations so abruptly. As I earned a tenth part of every copper collected, leaving him on the bank like that was an expensive proposition to me. I knew he wasn't going too far though. Not with the river up and swollen as it now was. He would have to be either desperate or crazy, or both, to try to ford the river here when it stood at full rise. I let off my fare on the other side, quite content to watch her as she rode off. Meanwhile, on the other side of the river, that other rider was engaged in shouting out some kind of orders to me. He either knew not, or cared not, that the sound of the river's current deadened his shouted words long before they ever reached my ears. My hut lay on this side of the river, and, since there was no further business in the offing, I tied the barge fast for the evening, and wandered away from my responsibility. It had been a decent enough day of toil for me, nineteen coppers in fares, and another two coppers for me for the hares I'd sold that morning to the cook at the ordinary. Living as I did, almost completely off the bounty of the land, I was putting coppers away at a frantic pace. Already I had saved enough in my first three years working for the squire to imagine myself one day to be a landholder, fee simple, of my own estate. I was well advanced, walking along my route, when the lass doubled back on her mount. She gave me a puzzled look as she saw me so far from the river and barge. "And what of my husband then, boatman? Tell me that you haven't left him stranded on the Quincy side? We dare not tarry if we have hope of arriving in time to do some good." "If your husband is that gentleman seeking to cross at half fare, I imagine he is still waiting in hopes that the river will recede so that he might cross without any loss to himself of his precious copper coinage." "Do you mean to strand him for the whole night then?" "It wasn't me that did the stranding, begging your pardon mistress. It was him as declined to be towed across by me. If I wasn't going to make one trip across for the half pay he offered, then it would stand to reason, for those possessed of any of the same, that I wouldn't care to make three trips for only one full pay. I'm sure he'll be more amenable to paying his full fare when I cross to the other bank in the morning." "I grant you your logic, and concede that you were within your rights to act as you have. Still, I would ask it from you that you return once more to your barge, and bring him forth to this side today. If not for his sake, then for mine." It isn't often that one such as me, base born and without any prospects of note, should find himself being asked to provide some small aid to one such as she. In truth, this was the first such time. I didn't choose to have it go by the boards unfulfilled either. "For you then, I'll do it. I'll not take even one of his precious coppers though. Let him keep them if they are so dear that he'd choose them over seeing to his proper duties of seeing to your comfort and safety. I'd sooner pay his fare myself." I turned back from whence I'd just come, and returned on shank's mare to the barge. Light was beginning to fade as I untied the barge and started my crossing one more time. I couldn't see any sight of him as I drew near the other end. Thinking that he'd gone back to find the shelter of the ordinary, I set off in search of him. Standing there in the open doorway of the tavern, I chanced to set my eyes upon him once more. He had a tankard of ale in the one hand, standing there he was, as relaxed as if he were in his own grand lodgings, warming himself close by the tavern's well lit hearth. In his other arm, was Gwen, the indentured serving wench who sculled for the kitchen and brought out trays and tankards for the tavern's customers and guests. The open palm of his hand was clutching shamefully at her right haunch. His rubbing at her buttocks, visible to any who cared to see it. I thought him a vile and contemptible cur to take such liberties in full sight of any who chanced to pass by. I approached him and cleared my throat, hoping thusly to attract his attention. He turned, staring at me, not recognizing me, even for all that he'd seen me not one hour's time before. "Forgive my intrusion, your worship, I've come back to see to your crossing. It soon grows dark and we must hurry if we are to beat the fading light." "Oh, it's you then, Bumpkin, changed your mind about my offer, I see. Well, it's too late for that now. I've had my horse seen to, and booked room and supper here for my rest. I'll see you on the morrow, make sure to be waiting for me from first light onwards." "But sire, what of the lady?" "Not any concern of mine. She can wait or go forward as she chooses. I won't assume responsibility for her headstrong and intemperate actions. She has crossed and left me to my own devices. Let her then see to her own comfort, as I've had to look after my own." He waved me away, dismissing me with all the contempt of a man shooing away a horsefly. I turned toe to heel and left his presence. What sort of man was he, to be brazenly fondling a serving wench, all the while he was discussing his own wife's dire predicament, as if none of it were of any real concern to him? I walked back to the barge and pulled myself across. My anger at his attitude allowed me to pull across in less than a minute. I tied the float off with an angry knotting that would surely take me a few minutes to unravel in the morning. Finished, I looked up and saw her staring after me, from her position fifteen feet away, and fully astride her horse. "He's in the ordinary, your ladyship, says he's settled in for the night. Put his horse up and all. Would you wish me to ferry you back across? I'd not charge you for the crossing?" "What of me then, did he tell you what I'm to do?" "He says you are to wait or move forward, milady. But I can run you right across again, and have the two of you on the same side of the river at least. You need to be looking after your safety and comfort. It isn't safe to be caught out in the open of a night hereabouts." "This is what it comes to then? I mean less to him than his horse? I'll ride on boatman. If I ride through, I could be in Fairlawn before first light. Thank you for all of your kind assistance. Tell my husband, when you next see him, that I've ridden on." Spurring her horse as she first turned him and then prodded him forward, she disappeared into the early evening's dusk. I watched after her. Fairlawn was twenty miles or more past where I stood. It was a large estate near Herriot. If she was heading there, she was in for a long ride through the night. I looked up, trying to see what type of night sky she'd have for her journey. It would be dark, I hoped her mount was sure footed. I started walking towards my hut, angry with myself for my part in placing her in this danger. Had her husband been near enough to me then, I'd have given him something to worry about as well. Well, I would have if he hadn't been a gentleman, and I merely a lowly ferryman. I arrived home, not even taking the time to check my snares. I hid the squire's coppers and then placed my own four in my secret place of safekeeping. I grabbed my tines and turned my straw, and then laid myself upon it. Too soon the rooster crowed and woke me from my dreams. I searched for tucker and found stale bread and a small piece of cheese, so old and hard that it gave my teeth a worthy contest in the eating of it. I walked to the river, and knelt down by the bank, washing my face and hands. Because of my work, I tended to keep myself somewhat cleaner than others who hadn't the advantage of my closeness to a ready source of water. The air held a chill as I pulled myself across to the Quincy side of the river. I arrived and tied up, figuring to wait for my fare. It was still early when I looked across to the other side to see three people on foot, signaling to me to come get them. I shook my head in wonder that I once again found myself on the opposite side from my fares, but shoved off with my pole and then pulled myself over to them quickly. The three were two men and a woman, people from the country, heading to some of the bigger towns in hopes of finding some work for themselves. The men appeared to be related, probably brothers, and the woman belonged to the taller of the two. They paid their three coppers without any murmur, grateful for a dry and safe crossing, and also for not having to waste part of their traveling day waiting for me to get to my work. It was an hour later before the man from the evening before rode up to my barge. I had enjoyed no other fares since that first one, so, I found myself sitting on the correct side of the river for once. "I'm happy to see you took my advice and positioned yourself here early, Rustic. To show you my good humor, I'll pay you two coppers for the transit." He put the two coppers in my hand, making sure not to soil himself by making any contact with my skin. "That takes care of the horse, Governor. It's another copper if you wish to join him." "Are you determined to try me then, you clod?" He took a riding crop I hadn't noticed before and lashed out with it, striking me in the face. I felt my skin ripping, and then my cheek burned like the fires of Hell. He pulled his arm back to strike me again, but I stepped backward, and thus avoided his lunge. The movement of his horse, skittering nervously on the barge, had dislodged us from the shore. We had drifted out into the current. He tried to urge his horse into me, hoping to dislodge me from the barge. Again, I was able to sidestep him, and moved out and away from the horse. I put my hand up to my face, and looked at it as it came away with fresh shed blood coating my fingers. I grabbed at the ropes and yanked for all I was worth, taking us out another twenty feet into the current. When he urged his horse forward again, I punched it right near it's eye. I'm not a violent sort, but still, being trampled by a horse wasn't an option that I wanted to experience firsthand. Because of my three years spent pulling the barge back and forth on the river, I had built up a considerable strength in my back, arms and shoulders. After being hit by me, the horse bolted backwards in fright and pain, losing it's balance, and then plunged sideways into the water. The man riding it went in as well. I watched as both man and horse were swept away quickly, racing together helplessly downstream in the current. I pulled across and beached the barge, throwing a knot across the stump to hold it fast. I went downstream of the barge and washed my face in the water, trying to keep the gorge from rising up past my throat. From the bend here, where the river was narrow, it expanded some and the banks got much steeper. It was possible that horse and rider could have survived. It was possible, but it wasn't likely. The current was running swift and strong, and the river was at high crest from all the recent rains. It was probable that both would be swept under and drowned. I needed to think, to come up with a story that would hold together in the event I was questioned about the man's disappearance. That story would have to take into account the damage done to my face. I worked the remainder of the day, stopping often to put soothing cool river water on my wound. Several people commented on my injury. I told each one who asked me the story of a horseman who refused to pay three coppers for himself and his horse. I described how he lashed out at me, and then took off, riding the path by the riverbank downstream. Almost, I believed it, after repeating it over and over for that day and the next. By the third day, the wound was starting to heal and the comments on it became fewer and fewer. My life became one of fear and anticipation. For every noise I heard, I'd look up quickly, expecting to see either that horseman, somehow rescued, and in search of his vengeance against me, or a constable, there to read me his charges and cart me off to his gaol. I became so tense from the worrying, I almost wished it would end in any one of those ways, just to be done with it. When a week had gone by, and then two, I started to return back to my normal life. I was sure that, if he still lived, he would have returned to settle with me before now. My face had healed, although I would bear his scar for the remainder of my lifetime. It became my habit to run a finger along the scar's uneven edges. It traversed my cheek from eye socket to jawline. In the reflection from clear pools of water, I could see how red and angry the scar now looked. After three months had passed, I was sitting on the bank having a noon meal when that lady rode up in the company of three gentlemen. She was bedecked in widow's weeds, from head to toe. I took them across in two trips, the lady and an older gentleman were first. She stood beside her horse after dismounting for the crossing. The older gentleman stayed up on his mount. "You've injured your face since I last saw you, boatman." I nodded my agreement, acknowledging her words. She stared at my wound intently, saying nothing more about it. It left me uneasy and self conscious. I went back for the other two gentlemen, and crossed them too, without incident or comment. I stared after the four of them as they made off towards Quincy. The next day, the three gentlemen returned, and I ferried each of them across, again needing to take two trips. After seeing her, all dressed in black as she was, I put the incident to rest. He was dead, but I felt blameless for his death. I was simply trying to keep from being pushed into the water myself. He had been the one who tried to do me harm, who had, in fact, done me harm. Another month passed, and then, early of a splendid spring morning, the lady rode into sight. I recognized her right away, even though I stood on the far bank from her. There was something in her carriage, as she sat there on her horse that was distinctive to me. She still wore nothing but black, except for a cameo broach that was the color of fine ivory and set in yellow gold. Of course, I didn't know about the broach until after I pulled my way across to her. She rode on to my barge and dismounted easily, handing me three coppers as she did so. I started pulling her to the other side. We had gone less than halfway when she asked me to halt. "How did my husband die, boatman? I need to know how it happened. Is the scar that you bear on your face any of his handiwork?" I looked at her as she spoke to me. From the tone of her speech, you would think she was asking me about the weather, or about how I liked the way the water levels on the river had dropped back down again. I wasn't going to reply to her at first. If I stayed silent though, would she draw her own conclusions, and assign to me the role of being her husband's murderer? "Aye, milady, he gave me this to remind me that people like me don't ask people like him to pay more than they are willing to spend for little things like a quick and safe passage across the river. As for his death, I can assure you that he was alive and sitting astride that big bay of his when last we chanced to see each other. The first inkling I had that all was not well with him was when I saw how you were dressed when you passed by with those three gentlemen." "My father and two of my brothers. So, you have no knowledge of how he might have drowned himself and his horse in this very river then?" "Perhaps he attempted to cross himself downstream and got caught in the current? He left in that direction when I saw him last." "I don't believe you. My husband wasn't the sort of man who would add to his own discomfort in order to avoid paying a few coppers. He would have paid what you asked, or else forced you to take him across, rather than ride off elsewhere in search of a place to ford the river. I want to know how he came to drown. You are going to tell me. How did my husband die?" There we were, in the middle of the river. It was just like my life, and there were only two choices, go forward or go back. Staying out there in the middle wasn't an option. I had to either tell her or keep up with my denial. She knew her husband far better than I did. If she told the constable her husband wouldn't have attempted to ride downstream in order to ford the river, who would take my word over hers? "After he hit me, he lunged his horse at me twice, trying to throw me into the water. The second time he did it, I struck out at the horse, knocking him backwards. The horse stumbled and fell over the side. Your husband went with him. I didn't mean for any of this to happen." "You've told no one else of this?" "No, only you. I've told people that the man who cut my face rode downstream after he did it. That's all I've ever said about it before now." "How did he look after he had fallen in the river? Was he frightened? Do you think he knew he was going to drown?" "It all happened very quickly. One minute he was lunging his horse at me, and the next, he was in the water being swept away." "Tell me your name, I can't keep on calling you boatman." "I am Stuart Allen, milady. What are you going to do about me now that I've confessed it all to you?" "Do? I'm going to do nothing. I needed to know how it happened. I've thought about it so many times, imagining how it might have been for him. To hear it from you, knowing you were a witness to it, as it was happening. This is just what I've needed." "You aren't going to have me brought before a magistrate on charges?" "Why ever would you think I'd do that? You've observed the man close to. Can you possibly believe that I'd lament his death for even an instant? I'm free of him. You helped to make that possible for me. It is I who need to reward you, not punish you. No, never to punish you. What boon can I offer to make amends for that wound you now carry?" I rubbed at my scar self consciously. I was astonished that she would speak so openly of her relief at being free of her husband. Having known him, even for only that short time, I understood her feelings. For her to express them like she had, so openly, to a common and low born stranger such as myself? It didn't seem right or proper. "What can I do for you Stuart? Would you like a bag filled with gold coins to free you, to help you make your way in better circumstances? You have only to ask it of me, and I will provide it." I didn't speak. I couldn't tell her how repugnant her offer was to me. How little I wanted to profit from the death of any man, even one as vile as her late husband. All I could manage to communicate that aversion to her was to shake my head no. "Not money then? Fine. Would you like me to arrange for you to increase your station in life? My father would take you on as a supernumerary manager on his estate. It is only a matter of training and observation. In that capacity, you'd be able to marry someday, and to raise your own family, to provide well for them, and for yourself too." "No, milady, nothing. I don't wish to profit at another's misfortune. Please can we end this conversation? Which way do you want me to take you?" "Take me? Yes, take me forward Stuart. Take me across to the other side. I want to ride away from Quincy for a time. Cooped up with his family, I can't breath in freely or savor in any way my new found freedoms." I took her across and she rode off at a fast trot, that quickly turned into a hard gallop. I spent most of the rest of my day waiting for someone needing passage across the river, but to no avail. I was still waiting when the lady returned. She was walking her horse gently, but there was ample evidence that he had been ridden hard for much of the day. Her own hair showed similar evidence of disarray, caused, no doubt, by the wind from her galloping. "Hello Stuart. I've just enjoyed the most marvelous of days. I haven't enjoyed myself like that since I was a little girl, and was still young and carefree. That's exactly how it felt today, like I had once again regained my youth and my innocence. Please ferry me across once more so that I can return to my life of feigned and fraudulent sorrow." I took her across, first accepting the three coppers that she pressed into my hand. She took a finger of her hand, right after handing me the money, and ran it slowly across my scar. When she was done with doing that, she lifted that finger to her lips and kissed it softly. I couldn't help the thoughts her action brought to my mind. I pulled at my barge rope with strong, even, pulls, conscious of her looking at me for the whole time it took to cross. I could feel the scar burning, whether from my embarrassment or her touch, I didn't know. Later that evening as I tossed and turned on my straw, I couldn't shake the image of what she had done from my thoughts. I got up from my pallet and walked back outside into the night. I leaned against a tall poplar tree and groaned out loud as a copious spend flew out from my distended manhood. Ashamed at my lack of restraint and control, I went back to my hut and fell fast asleep. ------- Chapter 2 Another week of dawn to dusk days, pulling the barge to take the travelers across the Upper Remark River. A ferryman's hands were the first casualty of the trade. After three years, mine were still in fair shape, but the ropes had already left their mark on them. In the beginning, I'd had to soak them in brine to toughen them. Now, I used animal fat to soften them enough so that the pumice would work to reduce my calluses. It was a slow time on the river, and I had just finished working on my hands with the pumice stone. The trick was to take enough callus off so that the fingers were flexible, while still leaving enough callus on that new blisters wouldn't form. I had watched for the lady everyday, hoping to see her out here again on yet another ride. This time, it was later in the day when she rode up on her black stallion. Instead of getting on the barge for a transit across the river, she pulled her horse to a stop twenty feet away from the bank, and tied him to a hanging branch of a tree. I watched her approaching me, trying to mask the excitement I felt at seeing her again. "Well, Stuart, still here I see." "Yes, Milady." She kept coming forward until she stood close, both feet planted on the barge. She took my hand and placed a copper into my palm. "Take me halfway across, and then tell me once again of how my husband met his end. Leave nothing out to spare my sensibilities. I want to know it all." "There's nothing more to tell. You already have the whole of it." "Then tell it to me again. Slowly now, in order that I might once again savor it's full flavor." I felt, once again, how strange and inappropriate were the things she said to me. I wanted to give voice to those feelings, but knew not a way to do so without giving her grave offense. Instead, I pushed off from the shore and then pulled us out to near halfway. "Your husband's death was not of my wishing, Milady. In truth, I'd sooner he still lived. Recounting the how of it to you stirs memories in me that I'd just as leave forget." "Do you think ill of me that I can't lay aside my need for dwelling on every aspect of his departure? Is it so hard for you to countenance the relief and pleasure that your telling of it provides me?" "Is it not enough that he is dead and can do no one further harm?" "If I were you, perhaps. And how I wish it had been my hand, instead of yours, that stayed his heart forevermore. It wasn't for lack of wishing. Please, withhold your rancor at my need, and indulge me this one last time." "He came aboard the barge, and dropped two coppers in my palm. I told him that only paid for the horse and not it's rider. He accused me of being trying to him and brought his crop to bear hard upon my face, whilst I stood near him, unawares of his intent to do me any harm. Forewarned after the first, I moved backwards to avoid another blow. His horse, perhaps from nerves at the smell of my blood, moved about in such a manner as to dislodge the barge from its purchase on the bank. I pulled on my rope to send us out further in the river, thinking that he would then unhorse himself, to try to steady his skittish mount. Instead, he lunged the horse forward at me, trying to force me into the water. I eluded his charge and tried to move behind the horse. When next he lunged the horse, I struck out with my fist, desperate to avoid being pushed off into the river. The horse, perhaps surprised, or from his pain at being punched, withdrew backwards, and stumbled of his footing, plunging sideways into the water. Your husband kept his seat, and rode into the water as well. It happened so quickly. One minute he and the horse were upon me, the next, swimming for their lives." "Did he say anything? Did he curse you, or beg for your assistance?" "No, he looked back, as if at me, I know not whether he saw more than the distance he'd traveled from the barge. He said nothing which I could hear." "I see in your eyes the distaste you feel at revealing this again to me. Stuart, I too bear the marks of his displeasure. He didn't discriminate when it came to demonstrating his ire. I'm reliably informed that he once struck a stable boy with a shoeing mallet so hard that it resulted in the boy's death. Of course, nothing was ever done to punish him for that either." "Why would he do something like that?" "A horse of his pulled up lame after a race. The boy had been in charge of the exercise program for the horse. Charles needed no justification for his actions, other than his own desire to do something to someone. You need not feel even a moment of guilt for ridding the world of him. Were it generally known that you had helped him into the water, many would applaud your act." "Still, I meant him no harm, Milady. The ill intent was only his." I wanted to end this conversation once again. If it weren't for the fact I feared her asking to be towed back to her horse, I'd have begged her once more to leave off with it. "I applaud you, whether or not you seek the recognition and applause." She drew closer to me as she spoke. "And, though it might seem wrong of me, standing near like this, I draw from all the strength you have, imagining myself a small part connected to the act." She took my hand and placed it gently on her bosom. A hand far too rough to ever know one so gentle born as she. Yet, for a time, we were connected thusly, for I could feel the rhythm of her beating heart beneath my burning fingertips. I would have tried to break away from this, to sever for all time this unseemly and unlikely contact. I would have if I'd been able to summon the will to do it. She mistook my lack of action as acceptance, reaching up behind my head to draw my face down closer to hers. My will still failed me. Then, she placed her tongue upon my scar and licked at it and me, like a dog would lick a returning master. The act sent a shiver through my spine, but acted as a catalyst to mobilize my sense of right and proper behavior enough, that I could withdraw my hand from her and twist myself away from hers, still caressing me on my neck. Free, I turned and pulled my rope with the strength of all the devils then coursing through me, arousing all my base intentions. The barge fair skimmed across the river, slamming into the bank so hard it caused the lady to lose her footing. She would have fallen, had I not reached an arm around her waist to steady her, and to bring an abrupt halt to her forward lean. I let my hand drop from steadying her and left the barge to tie it to the root I used. I wanted to distance myself from her, not trusting to refrain from further contact with her. She walked off the barge and reached out for her horse's reins. She placed a foot inside her stirrup and lifted herself gracefully up on to her mount. Her dress billowed out and settled back across the saddle. Once back in saddle, comfortably seated, she pressed forward towards where I stood. "I meant to give you no offense, only to try to take into myself some of your hurt. If I cannot share in the act that caused his death, I wanted to taste the reminder of how it came about. I too have scars, less visible than the one you bear, but reminders to me just the same. If you fail to understand my act, try at least to judge me less harshly than you otherwise might. I am ridding myself of all that he was to me, adjusting to the better circumstances I now enjoy.Whether you wish it or not, you too are part of the adjustment I need make." She turned her horse to point it at the road to Quincy, giving light boot to the flanks to spur him forward. I watched her move away, grateful for the shortness of my breath, which wouldn't allow me to shout out the words to summon her back. I did not understand all that she meant by her words. If she mistook my reaction for me taking offense, better that then if she knew what her actions had inspired in me. I mistrusted any part of what I felt. Rumors were rife with tales of sordid unions, conceived and controlled by the nobler halves that made them up. At the end of these rumors, the cautionary tales began, recounting the hardships and upheavals that inevitably followed. These woes seemed only to attach themselves to the lesser half of all these pairings. The gentry never seemed to suffer loss or guilt, blame or censure. That seemed reserved only for the least powerful. Knowing all of that, and believing, in part at least, in the justness of it, I could not help but still wish to be a part of it myself. That one as low as I could even aspire to breach the social walls set up to keep everyone in their proper place, was already a long leap forward in my thinking. How much of my future would I encumber in the furtherance of such a hopeless quest? Logic dictated that it be none, but reality laughed at logic and turned a blind eye to any future costs. I dared to hope and dream, shunting aside the cold realistic expectation in favor of an idealized dream that was so unlikely that I couldn't give it any credence even then. It would end badly if I allowed it to begin. I could resist it were it still impossible. It wasn't impossible. I'd felt her hot and wet tongue on my face, and knew the feel of her skin on my fingertips. How could I turn away from a glimpse at Heaven? ------- Chapter 3 I learned that the lady was the mistress of Fairborn Hall. Her late husband, Charles Fairborn, had been the eldest son of a wealthy landholder, with diverse commercial interests that were spread up and down the Kirshoon Valley. Since the father still lived, the bulk of his interests would be passed down to the eldest surviving son, upon his death. Having passed without issue, her late husband's estate, consisting of an annual income of 4,000 Pounds, Sterling, devolved to his widow, and would fall to her family for management and maintenance. To that end, her youngest brother, Malcolm, was dispatched to oversee the day to day operation of her holdings. It was amazing how easily you could find out everything about the gentry. Servants talked among themselves, and few secrets could be kept from their knowledge. Lady Fairborn, Camille Rutledge Fairborn, had once again taken up residence in her own home. For six months after her late husband's drowning, she had been watched over, at first, by her own family, and next, by her in laws. Sufficient time having passed for her to be recovered from her loss, it was deemed acceptable for her to take up residence in her own manor once more. Knowing that she now resided within six miles of where I slept each night had set my nerves on edge once more. Though there had been no repeat of her earlier visits to the river, I still kept myself well informed of her habits. One week after she was again situated at Fairborn Hall, I was summoned to attend to Squire Appleton, my employer, at his home in Kensing Place. The Squire, a rotund man, somewhere in his mid to late forties, wasted no time, and came straight to the purpose of my summons. "Stuart, you've given good service in my employ, causing me few problems with your conduct or attention to your tasks. I commend your honesty as well, feeling that you given over full measure in the fare count. The thing of it is, I've had to sell the ferry rights and patents to someone else. Henceforth, you will deliver receipts to Mr. Malcolm Rutledge, in residence at Fairborn Hall. Should you encounter difficulties in your future, I would be happy to assist you in finding some other employment. Thank you for attending to me so promptly, Stuart." I was dismissed by the Squire without any further discourse. Was I chattel to him that he would include me in his sale of the ferry rights? Not once did he ask if I might care to stay on at my job. He took it for granted that I would. Even his offer to help me with future employment was tainted with his own self interest. It was only another day before I was summoned to Fairborn Hall to meet with my new employer. The servant who came to inform me that I was summoned, rode to and fro on horseback. I was left to my own devices, as to how I might get there and back. I started walking at a brisk pace, and arrived at Fairborn Hall in an hour and a half's time. I was led by a serving girl through the servant's door, and thence, into the great hall. Mr. Rutledge was one the two brothers who had accompanied the lady back to her in laws three months after her husband's death. He was a well set up young man in his early twenties, tall, and with a lighter hair color than his sister. They both shared facial features, enough to be easily thought related. He was seated at a large table with account books and other papers strewn across it's surface. "Mr. Allen, how good of you to come so quickly. By now you've heard from Mr. Appleton of our acquisition of the ferry patents?" I nodded that I had heard. "Good. Very good. I've studied his books with great care Mr. Allen, and it would appear that you have done well by your previous employer. I've also researched other ferry ventures, and have found that the standard wage is a fifth part of fares collected, not a tenth part as you were being paid. In fairness, and in keeping with what is usual and customary, henceforward, that too shall be your compensation. Have you any questions?" "I'll be leaving your employ then, sir. Say one month to allow you time to hire another?" "I don't understand. What would cause you to leave after we've so improved your circumstances. That makes no sense, Mr. Allen, none at all." "I've had my fill of being a ferryman, sir, and this seems as good a time as any to strike out in search of more favorable placement. I might try the sailor's life for awhile, or see about taking the King's shillings." "I see. Well, of course, you are free to do as you see fit. I'm disappointed, because it means I'll have to find someone else to serve in your stead. Do you know of anyone likely to have an interest in filling your position?" I told him I didn't, and then took my leave. The same serving girl let me out the side door, off the kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her, the lady, standing back from the upstairs balustrade, peering covertly after me. The very next morning I watched her ride up to the river's edge. I stood on the other shore, a river's width away from her. In other distance being measured, social distance, life's station difference, we were separated by a chasm too formidable to bridge or ford. There was no ferry capable of transporting either of us such a far distance. I shoved off from my side, pulling steadily over to hers. Once again, she had gotten down from her mount, and tied him to that same overhanging branch. Because she was now the ferry's owner, I spurned her offered copper. Without any words between us, I pulled us out to the center of the river, and turned back to face her. I waited for her to tell me what she'd come to say. "Are you running away from me then, Stuart? Was it too much that I bought the source of your employment? I wanted only to have us closer connected than we were. Is my need so terrible and wrong in your eyes that it drives you from me?" "Milady Camille, it is I who drive myself away. Away from the sorrow that I can bring you, and from the damage to your reputation, that what you seem to seek will likely cause. I cannot be party to an act that would so surely take you down in reputation and respect, and in that fall, so too the feelings you now have for me. If, in my leaving, I can preserve any part of that good disposition of you to me, all the better." "What of me? You presume to interpret, wrongly, what it is I'm seeking from you. It isn't love for you, or even lust that spurs me on. You are the dessert to a meal well eaten and enjoyed. You have the means, residing within you, that could release me from the last and final ties that bind me to Charles. Leave now, and I am just as bound to him as I ever was before. You spurn to be compensated or made larger by your boon to me. I shall be free. As I touched and licked your wound, taking his pain away from you and into myself, I wanted you to do the same for me. In this way only, can you reduce the sway he once had over my existence. Disconnect him from all the wounds he left behind him. Make him truly dead to me." "You feel nothing for me then?" "I do. Deep gratitude, an abiding respect that you took it upon yourself to make real the act that I could merely dream to accomplish. I would give to you willingly what never once I gave to him. As a reward though, not out of feelings or need. Free me from the memory of all his past assaults and there is nothing I possess that I'd refuse to you. Nothing." "I beg your forgiveness then, that I so misinterpreted your actions. I thought it was some misplaced love of me, because of what I had done." "No, not love. That could never be. I've known no love with any man, only suffered from the assault of one who claimed me thus by rights of marital contract. His violations now leave me incapable of presenting myself to another of any suitable station" "Tell what you would have from me then?" "To take the scars and welts remaining from his forced visitations into yourself, just as I took yours into myself. In this way, while his marks remain, they will have been rendered neutral by the one who rendered Charles neutral, and sent him into the void. I wouldn't ask it of you if I knew of another way to accomplish my end ambition." "Where would you accomplish such as you seek? Not in such a public place as here?" "In his own chambers, Stuart. In the room where he whipped me into submission, to make me compliant and tractable to do his bidding." "If I do this for you, whether or not it causes any of the effect you seek, I would require two things of you. What you ask seems but a trick of your mind that you've settled on as a remedy for your pain." "Name your terms, Stuart. If they are within my grasp. I will grant them to you." "Sign over ownership to the ferry patents to me, including the lands that come with them." "Done, and what else?" "Give me leave, with your consent and approval, to partake in the same marital rights that you refused to give to your late husband." "I won't fight you, or turn you away, but no more than that can I represent to you." "When do you wish to accomplish this?" "Would tonight be possible? My brother will be absent from the manor, and I can send the servants home as well." "Two hours after the setting sun? I will be at the servants door. When I leave though, it will be by way of the front door, and you will hold it open for my departure." "It shall be as you say. In spite of what you may think of me, I feel certain about my need for doing this. I do care about you and your welfare. It pleases me that you will now own the means to your livelihood." I went to the barge's rope, and pulled her back across to her horse. She rode away, and with her departure, went any sense of romantic illusion I might have entertained. After my day was done, I booked a room at the ordinary, and ordered up a warm bath. I had used up the time for my midday meal to run to my hut and get the bundle of good clothes I kept in reserve. When I left the tavern, I was clean and presentable. My hair, which I kept shorn short for convenience sake, had been brushed in place by my fingers. I arrived a half hour early, waiting by an old oak until I deemed it two hours past the setting sun. When my first foot stepped on the wooden stair leading to the servant's entryway, the door came open and I saw her standing there, bidding me to enter. She was in a gown of whitest white, a gown finer than any I had ever seen or even knew existed. Inside, it was all as dark as dark could be, but she took my hand and led me to the staircase. I put my free hand on the banister to guide my steps upward. At the head of the stairway, we turned to the right and went to a door at the end of the hallway. Inside was a big room, three candles lit the room in shadowed light. I could see the great bed, defined in size by the four carved posts that rose at least eight feet into the air. She gathered up the candles, bringing them closer to the bed. In that greater illumination, she pulled a sash and her gown fell into a pile around her feet. Living in the country as I did, I'd had several occasions to lie down with girls. Usually someplace off and away from people, in a stack of hay or in the cover of a thicket of bushes. Never like this, in a big room with a soft bed and linen to cover it. I sucked in air when the light of the candles revealed the raised scars that covered her back, buttocks and upper legs. There must have been seventy or eighty marks that laced in every possible direction. For the first time, I was glad of the role I'd played in ridding her of that fiend. She reached in front of her and handed me a bill of sale, conveying the ferry patents to me. I recognized her name, as well as my own, and the signature of her brother too. I put the papers on the stand beside the bed and turned to watch as she climbed up on the bed and laid upon it, stomach facing down. She had her face covered by both her hands, and I undressed myself until I wore what she wore too. Naked as we both were at birth. I lowered my body to the bed so I was sitting right beside her. I always kept the first two fingers on my right hand buffed free of calluses. It helped when dexterity was needed, either to turn a page or separate coins. It was these two fingers that I used to slowly trace each raised scar she had. In doing that, I felt somewhat of what she had spoken of, that I was taking away the power of the marks he'd placed on her. Not the marks themselves, but any power he had gotten from inflicting them on her. At first, it was mere touching, but then it passed into something more sensual and arousing for me. My lance, which had, at the first lay dormant, had transformed itself into a cudgel to be reckoned with. And what of Camille? To judge by the tenor of her breathing, she too was being moved by my caresses. Her hands remained, shielding any part of her face from my eyes, but each gentle movement of my hand now evoked response from the unmarked skin surrounding the place where my fingers touched. Tiny bumps, as if from chill, rose up and the skin itself seemed to give off more heat. There was a point, right in the center of her back, where her late husband had favored her with a surfeit of attention. It looked like spokes from a wheel off of a cart had all taken rise from one tiny area, branching out in a symmetrical design. It was at the inner axle of this wheel where first I placed my lips and tongue. I was in no hurry to complete the task assigned to me. The more I kissed and licked at her wounds, the more I wished to prolong it for her sake, and for my own as well. At some point, I don't know exactly when, I became aware that she was weeping and moaning at the same time. I raised up and looked down at her, seeing that both of her hands had left her face and had worked their way down under her stomach. I could smell her arousal, and feel the movement of her fingers grabbing at her cleft. This wasn't turning out to be some type of secular exorcism, not for me, and not for her either. I went back to stroking, kissing and licking her, concentrating on her buttocks with my tongue. In the hours that I'd been there with her, I'd visited and revisited every scar that I could find upon her body. I straightened up and stretched my aching arms and back. This wasn't the type of activity my body had been conditioned to perform. When I stopped, there was also a cessation of activity and sounds from Camille. I watched as her hands came back up, and she used her arms to roll herself over so that she faced me and I looked down at her as well. Her tears had made her eyes all puffy and red rimmed. I took both hands in mine and sucked each finger into my mouth, licking and sucking away the taste of her, as if it were a bone from the sweetest tasting fowl. After finishing with that, I once again released her, and made as if to get up from the bed. She looked alarmed and reached out to take my arm, hoping to prevent my taking leave of her. "Don't go. What of the last part of our bargain?" "I spoke of that before I understood what it was you wanted. Now I know, having seen with my own eyes what you earlier had only alluded to. The man who could do this to you, deserved to die more than once. I can no longer regret any part I might have played in it. Seeing you like this has changed my feelings for what you requested from me. I do not wish to take any advantage from you now." "Doing this with you has also changed the nature of what I had hoped to accomplish by it. My reaction to your touch was not what I had girded myself to bear. Instead, it has evoked from me different feelings, ones I long held little hope of ever seeing rekindled in me. There is another scar I bear. This one is deep inside me, where no one else can see. It is as real, I assure you as any other ones you've addressed tonight. I would wish to feel you up inside me with your prong, taking what he could never hope to have. I cannot promise love, but I can give over to this need, one I never dared hope to feel again. If, in cleansing my soul of this last defilement, you can purge me sufficiently, so that love might someday grow inside, I'll gladly give to you all that you make me capable of." We had turned about full circle once again. In my temperament, I am more disposed to back and forth movement, rather than traveling around and around. The latter, makes me dizzy and confused. I stopped trying to make sense of what she said, realizing that we were talking from two different ends of the subject. She wanted me to do what I also wanted to do. Her reasons made sense to her, as mine did to me. I leaned forward and kissed her, letting her wrap her arms around my head, and, together, we repositioned ourselves so that all I needed to do was move forward, or have her move down to me. It became important to each of us that the other give a signal with their body's movement, to show a willingness to proceed further. I moved first, positioning the head so that the first half inch was seated between her waiting lips. She made the next move by tilting up her hips and sinking another inch of me inside her. We stayed like that for a minute, perhaps a little more. I was just savoring the feel of her, when she started such a subtle movement that I couldn't figure out just what it was at first. I could swear that she had the wings of a butterfly down there, and was flapping them so very gently it was like the softest ripple of a freshening breeze. I was lost from that point forward. No hope left of not proceeding to an end. I became aware, early on in our lovemaking, that what we were sharing had nothing to do with the late Charles Fairborn. It had to do with reaffirming our own survival, and our recovery from the misery which he had attempted to mire us in. We were acting out of our own needs, separate from any of society's rules, forging between ourselves, the compact from which we'd live out the remainder of our days. We didn't speak then of any life together, because it was assumed by both of us to be an inevitable consequence of what we jointly felt. In the morning, I left by the front door, held open by Camille, as we had agreed the day before. The only difference, and it was important, was that she left with me too. I took her to the ordinary tavern, next to the river and we secured a room for long term lodging. It took several long months before our new, more modest, home was built. She had moved down in the world by several rungs on society's ladder, while I moved up several, because of owning my own ferry patents. I don't rightly know where on that ladder our seven children fit. All, even the two girls, have taken a part in pulling the barge back and forth between the banks of the Upper Remark River. And all, have learned to ride and hunt and to eat and behave in polite society, interacting with their cousins, and aunts and uncles. After thirty years of marriage, Camille and I continue to lick each other's wounds, the type you can see, and that other kind too. When our life gets too caught up in the events of the day, I always pull her out to the center of the river and halt the barge. This relaxes us both, because we know, from there, we are at least halfway to our solution. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2006-03-07 Last Modified: 2006-03-09 / 06:53:12 pm ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------