Retrace 3: "The Man from the Big House"

"My turn, my turn." Celia fidgeted, kicking her small feet against the curtained edge of the padded couch. "You've been at this forever."

"Hold on," Levi snapped, "I'm not done." He held five twists of hair his hands, braiding them in a complex strand down his cousin's back. His own hair was undone, sweeping past his shoulder-blades. His governess did not approve of the style, saying that only redheaded barbarians kept their hair long and untied, but he enjoyed feeling the snowy curtain against his neck. And it was fun throwing his pale hair in front of his face and pretending to be a ghost chasing people around the room (he swore that Mama and Fang only pretended to be sacred, and he couldn't really scare Celia, since she claimed he stomped around the room like elephants no matter how sneaky he tried to be.)

He tied off the end with a piece of scarlet ribbon. Doug, who sailed around the world before docking permanently in this country, taught him all sorts of knots and braids he used to make rope. He asked Doug once if Glen had been a sailor once too, which is why he liked braids so much, and the hunchbacked man only smiled and replied at least Glen swore like one.

"There! Feel that." Celia brushed her hands slowly down the center of her head, running her fingers over the ridges and twists. Her hair was darker and more wiry than his and harder to work with but she smiled at his accomplishments. "Does it look pretty?"

"I always make pretty things," Levi assured her.

"My turn!" Celia guided his shoulders to position him before her on the couch. He placed the brush in her hands and she traced the sides of his head before pulling the stiff bristles through.

Celia was also part of his personal guard, though Levi had known her much longer than anyone else at Baskerville castle, even longer than his mother. They both shared a room before they came to live with Glen, a cramped little closet in a small part of the Big House. The day his mother came for them to live at the Baskerville castle, it was Celia who recognized his mother's voice and the contours of her face. Levi only vaguely recalled her before then, but implicitly trusted his cousin to know better, especially since she was four whole years older than him (a fact that she only boasted about once in a while).

"I'm going to try something different," she said. "Something I learned."

She parted his hair near the scalp, pulling back locks and gathering a small bit in her delicate hands. Tiny, concise pulls she worked to create a tiny, plaited ridge alongside his head. The bare skin she exposed felt cold in the open air.

"Hey, not so tight. It itches."

"Shush. Any looser and it won't feel right." Her hands massaged themselves over his head and Levi leaned back toward her touch, begrudgingly enjoying the sensation. When she finished, she had a set of three rows planted across the left side of his head, with the ends falling in with the rest of his loose hair. Levi arched his eyebrows as he surveyed her work in a hand mirror. "Did Glen teach you how to make royal hair?"

Celia laughed. "My aunties wore hair like this all the time."

A mark of sadness in her tone as she said this. Levi never met any of Celia's aunties or uncles. He knew that these people were not his blood family either, though he always thought of Celia as his cousin. She also called him and Mama her "bond family", since they had come together through the Big House, but it didn't mean she felt for them any less.

"So Glen is from where you're from?"

Celia tossed her head. "I dunno."

"Ah." Once, he asked Mama if he lived anywhere else before the Big House when he was a baby and she only replied, "Let's not talk about it anymore. Aren't we happy here?"

"Young Master, Lady Celia." Fang stood at the door, bowed to them. "Supper is ready."

"Yum! Is it the boar again? I like boar." Levi hopped off the couch. Celia felt for her golden cane by the armrest and the two children left the salon for the main hall.

Halfway there, Celia grabbed Levi's arm as she and Fang both halted. "Hear that?" she asked Fang and the older man nodded.

"What is-?" But then Levi heard it - the sounds of shouting and the clang of metal on metal.

"Lady Celia, escort young master back to your rooms." Fang gripped his scabbard handle as the sounds increased.

Soldiers in strange uniforms appeared from around the corner, locked in a battle as red-cloaked Baskervilles descended on them, trying to halt their process.

"Go!"

Celia collapsed her cane, and with the knowledge gained from years of wandering by herself, grabbed Levi's hand and dragged him where they had come.

"What did you see?" Celia asked as they ran.

"They were in weird uniforms. They're not our King's Men." But what struck Levi was how every single person shared the same pale, nearly translucent skin and stark white hair as his own. He couldn't remember anyone else who resembled him and Mama so much.

They turned another corner but Levi jerked his cousin back. "Up ahead!" he gasped. More foreign soldiers already arrived at his quarters, swarming around the doorway and inside.

"The Tower!" gasped Celia, pressing a hand to the wall. "Levi, take us to the shortcut."

"Yes!" Levi pulled Celia though the shadows, toward one of the imposing angel statues that flanked every other corner. He pressed a hand against the third stone to the right of the angel's feet and clunking sound echoed. Levi bit his lip. Did the intruders hear?

A crack emerged along the wall and together, he and Celia pulled the stone door wide enough to slip through. For a moment, Levi was bewildered by the sudden darkness of the tunnel but Celia was already pushing the secret entryway closed, the slant of light disappearing as the stone locked together again.

"Hurry," she said, extending her cane and moving forward. Levi's eyes adjusted in a few before he took hold of the back of Celia's skirts as the two walked through the musty tunnel.

The walk felt like forever but soon they came to a second stone door. Another moment as Celia searched for the keystone - Levi trusted her touch, compared to his hindered eyesight - and there was a waft of evening air hitting his cheeks.

Through the gardens, cloaked in twilight, was the rear of the Tower. There, they would be safe.

Levi hoped his mother hadn't left to join them at supper.

"Young Master Levi, Lady Celia!" A tall figure met them at the base of the tower. Immediately, Celia bent her head and Levi also did the same, giving formal bows to the head of the Baskervilles.

Glen already had his sword out and Mama was by his side. She reached for the children, clutching them to her chest and whispering, "Thank the gods."

"In the Tower," ordered Glen.

"Baskerville!"

Levi turned his head and saw a squad of foreigners enter the garden, lead by a lanky, ghost-like man. The man was dressed in the same richness as Glen did, and a cape of deep purple hung down his shoulders. "Is that the King?" he asked, but Mama shushed him.

"What kind of miscreant upstart dares intrude upon my home?" Glen kept his voice steady.

Levi worried they were now cornered, but along the walls of the Tower courtyard he could see the falling shadows of various red-cloaked guards taking position at the top. Several of these people had directed the giant mounted crossbows directly at the intruders. Their sharpened steel tips glinted in the fading twilight. Glen, without looking, raised his left hand and the cross-bows were lowered.

"I only treat your home the same way you had mine, scoundrel. You are the upstart, refusing to hold council with your king and myself this morning."

"So you must be the Lord from across the seas. Any quarrel with the King I will rectify myself. You, however, I owe no apology."

The stranger's face flushed an indignant shade of red. "Another insult!" The man pulled a glove off one hand and threw it to the ground. "I hope you recognize a challenge when you see one, thief."

A distinct gasp was heard from Mama, and she clenched his hand tighter.

"I see nothing stolen."

"Those!" The men directed his unsheathed sword at them. "I bought them and demand their return."

"Hmmm." Glen crossed his arms and an unamused smile crossed his face. "I do not claim to understand the ways of your country," he drawled, "and I admit this nation is my adopted one as well. But as far as these nation's laws are understood, people cannot be bought and sold, and those who have escaped such dreadful circumstances from elsewhere are allowed their freedom here. I will not be surprised if my King told you that very same message during your audience this morning."

"Ludicrous! I will not have my honor besmirched to this extent by some outsider woman." He leveled his blade once more.

Levi looked up at Glen. Woman?

"Glen's a gir-" he started, before Celia covered his mouth a hand. "C'mon," she said urgently, pulling at his and Mama's arms. "We gotta go inside."

Fang touched his shoulder and Levi turned, surprised at his appearance.

"Glen," he gave a quick bow though Glen did not glance his way.

"Mr. Fang, welcome of you to join us."

"Should we-?"

"No need. I shall honor your ways this once," Glen announced in a louder voice. He (she, Levi corrected himself, she) lowered his (her) blade. "My head of the guard here will be my second. I see you have yours. Name your terms."

What was happening? Levi turned to Mama and asked, "Are they gonna fight?"

"A duel." She slowly took their hands and led the two children toward the wall. He noticed that her soft face had turned into stone, the words barely escaping her mouth. Her grip on him was like iron and Levi twisted.

"Mama, it hurts!" He broke away from her hold and instantly, she locked onto him again.

"Please, Levi, behave," she said, her voice shaking. Levi hadn't realized but her whole body was trembling and not once did she break her gaze away from the pale stranger.

That was one thing Levi hated to be told, but any protest died in his throat. Already, Glen and Fang positioned themselves further in the clearing, the stranger and one of his men following suit.

"I claim first strike," said the stranger. "Our fight ends with one person living."

"Harsh terms." A corner of Glen's mouth twitched. "Are you sure?"

"Quite. Unless you fear for your life."

"I fear nothing except for what the Will allows."

The man threw down his other glove. Raising his free hand, he charged.

Immediately, Glen's arm blocked the blow; she twisted, her tailcoats flourishing behind her and struck a side blow. The stranger countered, metal ringing against metal as their blades met.

The two moved and feinted, turned and slashed, their blades a whirl of glinting steel and soft swoosh as air cut between them. Celia whispered, "What's happening? What's happening?"

"They're duelling." But it was more than two figures fighting. It was smooth coiled strength and skill unfurled before them. Moving faster than hawks: diving, angling, hovering and circling.

The stranger lunged to the left; Glen moved to avoid the blow, but then the stranger feinted and swept the blade across the other duelist's thigh. A crimson flash as drops hit the ground. Glen buckled, knees hitting the grass.

"Glen!" Levi screamed, breaking his mother's hold and running forward.

Glen glanced over one shoulder, eyes widening for a moment. The stranger took advantage and struck down toward her exposed neck; Glen's right forearm swept forward to block. The blade cut through meat and bone. She screamed, lifting her left sword arm and plunging into the man's exposed chest at the same time.

The point of the blade emerged from the center of his back and he stumbled backward. Glen's sword came free from her hand as the man tumbled and slammed against the ground. A squirt of red gushed from his chest; the hilt pushed out from the force of his collapse.

Letting her injured forearm remain by her side, Glen gave a grunt and pulled her sword free. She wiped it on the grass, watching as the blood spread through the man's chest.

Levi stopped from the scene less than three feet away; the final moves took less than thirty seconds. Levi felt his heart beat faster and faster in his chest. He stared at the man, whose bright violet eyes opened wide, lips parting and shutting like a fish on land. The stranger stared at Levi, his long white hair undone from its ponytail and spread in a halo around his head. The flapping mouth formed words. A foreign language, but a language Levi once knew from long ago.

"You are mine," said the stranger.

Echoes in Levi's head. Those words, he realized, he knew because they were the first language he had known from this land across the seas. From the depths of his memory, he whispered the foreigner's tongue upon his.

"Papa?" came the word.

The stranger's eyes were clouding. "...property..."

The man grew still. Tears suddenly pierced Levi's eyes. The child took two steps backward and held a hand to the side of his head as if the scene was pounding into his skull. He glanced up to see Glen, grim and unsmiling.

"Levi, are you well?"

Levi didn't reply, looked around wildly, unable to take in everything. His eyes roamed until he saw his mother collapsed by the wall. He stumbled in her direction, until Glen took him by the crook of the arm and half-dragged, half-carried him over to her.

"She fainted, but we will put her in bed and revive her," Celia said, as two female guards lifted and started carrying her toward the tower entrance. "I need to tend to my mistress now. Please, Your Grace, Young Master." The lady-in-waiting gave a small bow to Levi, unfurled her cane, and followed behind her colleagues as they disappeared into the Tower.

Levi felt a wetness on his cheek and noticed it was from blood on Glen's coat. "Sir, your arm."

"Indeed. I need this to be tended to."

Fang was already giving orders. The rest of the stranger's men were cornered by the guard and under Fang's direction, were soon disarmed. Glen made her way inside, Levi trailing after.

As they walked, Levi kept glancing backward at the dead person in the clearing. No one made a move toward the corpse. His blood spread into the grass, staining it dark. The dead man's face was still turned in his direction, that last look of exasperation and shock following the pair out of the garden.

"I'm sure you must have many questions," Glen said, trying not to limp too badly. Her free hand was pressed against her arm to staunch the bleeding.

Levi faced forward again. His stomach felt jumpy and he pressed his arms around it as they walked. He wasn't sure if he was going to vomit, and sweat broke out over his forehead in distress. He didn't want to be sick in front of Glen, not now.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he burst forth with the first question that entered his head. "Glen, are you a girl?"

Glen stopped under the archway and stared at Levi blankly. His stomach jumped again; Levi swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to be sick. Did he say the wrong thing?

Suddenly, Glen threw back her head and laughed uproariously. The sound was so startling, the Baskervilles in the garden stopped their process escorting the captured men, until Fang barked, "Onwards!"

The leader's mirth soon subsided. "Tell me," Glen said, "what makes me a man?"

"Um, well," Levi felt heat rise to his face and pressed his arms across his middle more tightly. There were other things he wanted to ask. Not that this wasn't an important question either. He didn't even know why he thought of that first. "Can I sit down?"

"Of course." They moved to a stone bench. Glen angled her head. "Are you going to be sick?"

Levi shook his head vehemently.

"It's all right, Levi, if you must." Glen's face, the boy noticed, had become increasingly wan as the minutes passed. "I think I need a rest too. Let's go." They stood up again and the world swirled a bit when they did. Levi instinctively reached for Glen's arm, but pulled back when he felt the sticky cooling red over his fingers.

"Papa?"

Levi turned to his head to the side as the bitterness lurched up from his stomach and his throat and out his lips and all over the cold stones of the hallway.

"There, there."

"Glen! Young Master Levi!"

"To the study, quickly. Wine and water," Glen ordered to the attendants who came.

Soon, they were brought to his study. A pair of women were already laying out clean sheets on the chaise lounge and Levi was lowered into it. Fussy hands reached to undo his jacket and front vest, removing the dirtied clothing and wiping Glen's blood off with a damp warm towel. Opposite him, Glen was seated in a leather-bound chair, a small table being ready with medical supplies. An ottoman was brought forth and Glen propped her lame leg upon it.

A few minutes passed and the room stopped swimming before Levi's eyes. He sipped on a cup of plain water and watched Glen drain a full goblet of wine. She tossed the cup aside, gave a small grunt as she readjusted her injured right arm, laying it flat against the table as a healer cut away the fabric and began to clean the wound. She pulled a face, and instead of making further mention of Levi's sick, Glen revisited her previous questioning. For that, Levi was grateful. "So, you're surprised to find me a woman, Levi?"

Wetting his lips again with the water, Levi felt steadiness return to his limbs. "You dress like Fang and Doug and all the other boys," he said. "And you wear your hair in a way that no other girl does," but then he took that thought back, "wait, Celia's aunties do that too... well, your voice doesn't sound like a girl's, and um... well..."

"Poor observation skills." The healer moved to her other side to get the cut across the woman's thigh. Her medical shears cut through the expensive cloth and pulled back to expose Glen's dark-skinned limb. Another helped Glen out of her outer coat entirely and Levi sat up a bit, scratching his head. "You don't look like you got boobs."

Another bark of laughter. "You shouldn't stay for this part," Glen said, unbuttoning her vest. "It'll be messy. See to your mother."

Levi slipped down from the chaise-lounge and veered his eyes away from Glen as the attendants shooed him off. "Glen doesn't act like a girl," he thought. He imagined if he had seen Celia undressing, she would've screeched at him to get out with a swift throw of her cane (she had a surprisingly accurate gift for launching it, spear-like, in any one direction when angered enough.)

Back in the Tower, Levi found his mother lain in bed, already changed into her dressing gown. Celia pressed a heated scented cloth to her forehead. Mama turned her head and extended her hand to Levi.

"My darling."

Her face looked both relieved and sad, and suddenly Levi couldn't help but jump up onto the quilted bedding and bury himself in her arms. The image of the dying man flashed before him, that sharp contrast of the sticky red blood covering his pale face. Those violet eyes, and how the corners sloped downwards. Like his eyes.

"Mama, who was he?"

She hugged him tighter and didn't speak for a long time.

Celia finally said, "I remember his voice. He was the Master of the Big House, wasn't he?"

"Yes." The word was small and broken.

"I don't remember him," Levi said.

"No, I wish you never had to see him. Ever." Mama kissed Levi's forehead. "He is... was... a truly horrible person."

"Why'd he want us?"

She was running her hands through his loose hair and the sensation was quite comfortable. Levi snuggled into her warmth, smelled the soft scents of herbs that covered her skin from Celia's tending.

"Because he thought we were his toys." Another long silence. "Levi," she said suddenly, "remember what I've always taught you about people?"

"Um." There were many things Mama told him about people. Never talk to strangers. Remember how others treat their lessers. Always give someone a choice.

"That people aren't born nice?"

"Yes." She rubbed his back and pressed her nose into his neck, inhaling deeply. "People are not naturally kind nor evil. They are raised to desire what they want. When a man believes he deserves anything he desires, he becomes cruel." A kiss against his cheek. "That man... made me do horrible things for many years. I wasn't much older than you when he took me."

That tremor returned to her voice and Levi pressed against her warm arms, as if he squeezed enough she would stop.

"He said we were property. What does that mean?"

"He thought we were things." Another pause. "Promise me, Levi. You will never treat another human being like an object."

"Promise."

It was years before Levi understood the full story of his mother and his past and who exactly the stranger was.

It was also years before Levi realized the necessity of breaking his mother's promise.

He truly was his father's child.