Rustling in the hay
After some hour of rocking and waggling on the back of the hay wagon, the driver left them off on a crossroad, accepting a symbolic recompense, turning further on to another direction. Erik was deeply glad to have his presumptions proven right, it was easier in a tandem.
Women - one never knows what he gets with them.
This was the third ride they've managed to get, and even though he'd get suspicious stares, the lady by his side had a gift of charming people unawares with those pretty pleading eyes, humbly standing aside, claiming how she wouldn't want to be a burden. Though she wouldn't have to speak at all, with that childlike appearance coming out to surface and speaking for itself, Josephine was damn right about that one.
Isn't it ironic how that sweetest thing wouldn't want to attract attention, but it was simply impossible for her to stay unnoticed? And poor fools, they bought it every time.
She was shaking the hay off her dress, and envied her companion, there was too much material in the skirts for the straws to prick in. If men were to wear so much clothing, she concluded, any kind of dresses would be demode and forgotten after the first season.
"So no trousers today either? They make such things easier, you know." It was like he read her mind.
She took a few strands and tossed them at him a bit playfully. Though brothers and sisters rarely play once they grow up, she found it quite amusing.
She preferred to see him as a tease than a somber serious man whom she had first met. There was a boy within him, she could see him fighting to come out.
"Don't tempt me for I'll leave all the explaining that will be required to you." She would gladly jump into trousers but the two of them made an odd couple even without such peculiar addition. "This one did not believe I am your sister more than he believes in fairy tales."
"He would believe anything if it had brought him a coin or two. I bet he sees all sorts of creatures when gets a sip too many out of that hip flask."
"I am starting to see strange things too."
"All I see is few houses, a chapel, and a tavern. Apparently, what turns a settlement into a real village in these parts is a sacral object and a nice place to get drunk and get some material for a decent confession."
He smirked shaking the hay off. "And a graveyard, of course, can't do without that."
She hoped it would be a peaceful place tonight, having had more than enough curious stares from the local «merry crowds», hating it and asking herself why they do that.
As if a woman were an exhibit they have to rate and measure, almost punishing her for the fact that they'll never be allowed. And right now she would rather sleep out in the open then tolerate that again.
They were lucky, there was one of the smaller properties by the road that led to the village.
It meant less interfering with people.
Then again, it only takes that one somebody to make you feel miserable, doesn't it?
The owner would let them stay in the hay barn, though his wife seemed to have a problem with that. They could hear her ranting outside: "His sister?! More like they are looking for a place to rustle around. And did you see him? I wonder at what cost."
- "He payed us, so keep quiet and stay away! They'll be gone by the morning."
Every word stung. Isabelle was filled with embarrassment to her very core. But the anger within was burning as well. Cheeks in shades of red, she climbed up the ladder to find some nice corner. The daylight was disappearing behind the horizon.
As if the light could possibly protect a woman from a man, she knew how naive such presumption would be.
Yet, something about darkness made her want a shelter. She never thought she'd miss the walls.
Erik was boiling inside. What made it even worse, he knew that this is exactly what people would always think: that he cannot have anything other - not a bit more than an overpaid encounter with a woman desperate enough to be able to keep her eyes closed for a few minutes. That any woman in his company would be labeled as such. And that is the picture this woman dared to put Isabelle in.
It was his fault, he decided. What else could he have expect from the world?
He couldn't just go outside and take it out on human race, though he'd love to teach them lessons. He had gotten used to it in a way, though he'd never accept it. He still had some pride left. But he felt like he owned that girl a damn good compensation for stoically enduring this.
Her voice from up above jerked him out of his thoughts. "They placed all the fresh hay up here. It smells lovely."
"Then you have pulled out a better set of cards, there is nothing smelling lovely down here."
She thought hard for a few moments, feeling guilty for leaving him down there with the animals, and probably rats and muck.
One does not leave a friend in the gutter, at least that is how it should be.
First she thought she would never dare, then something began pounding at her conscience and it finally took her a lot of courage to say it out all in one breath: "Then come up here, there is plenty of room."
Maybe it was only her subjectiveness but it sounded as if she was saying out her own sentence - the conviction, as if it were about someone else.
There was no taking it back now, too late for regrets.
Maybe she was just being nice and he was supposed to politely turn the offer down. Like a gentleman would, with manly pride. But an animal he was not, a beast he would not be, and up there seemed to be a place for a human being. Perhaps there was place for Erik.
Climbing up, uncertain, his head peered through the opening. "Are you sure? I don't want to intrude." And if you only knew...
She already started nestling in and building a small wall with piles of hay to keep her little personal space out of sight. "Well, if you stay down there, those two cows will not be happy and will probably make just as much noise as if..." She didn't finish, not wanting to complain. People complain too much, it was her common opinion. A reasonable excuse should do, hopefully.
He placed a few piles on the top and now it turned into a decent barrier. As she handed them up, he noticed a trace on the inner side of her arm, barely visible in a light rosy hue. The shade of her rolled sleeve hid the thin marks almost instantly as she reached down for more hay.
He pretended not to have seen it, yet - thinking of struggle among many other things.
One wall seemed to be enough for her, how strange. Only several days ago she would have been building a labyrinth all around herself. Trust had fragile boundaries.
It wouldn't matter much in either case, her only way towards the exit was cut with his presence, she was aware of the situation.
Was this a «pat position?»
She tried to recall the basics of chess her father had taught her a long time ago. No escape, that would be it.
With consideration, he settled by a wall, a proper distance from her.
Away, always away from others, especially womankind. As if he'd dare ever again...
Adjusting his sack to serve as a pillow for the night, wanting to tear his shirt off, the circumstances demanded he would sleep in his clothes and hope that the heat would mild down. There was some rustling coming from her side of the wall. He couldn't see her but from the sound he presumed that it must be from her clothing.
Right then, right there.
As a phantom, he had seen, it had been almost impossible to avoid it sometimes, even when he had no intention on lurking, such things came almost as normal. Though nothing seemed normal when in such despair.
When all his focus had turned to his blossoming student, and been graced with a sight on the other side of the mirror, the appeal was incomparable, even when he knew that it was wrong and couldn't help it. So he watched and dreamed of what reality would never give.
He felt so empty for months now, nothing in the world could make him believe that he could be stirred towards some kind of attraction or affection. Not after all that pain.
The one person to put her trust in him could sleep without a worry, he would not betray it. Yet, one thought couldn't get out of his head:
She is so... close.
Irrelevant, perhaps. Significant to him.
Female instinct had never worked in his favor.
This sort of trust was something he didn't know how to deal with. Just let it be, while it was still there.
He was just a man, even though some may have dared to doubt that.
Not just obvious facts make a man. There are needs and deeds and his own have often lead an inner battle.
Shouldn't it count in favor of manliness that one is able to keep from the deed? All the times he kept at bay seemed to prove him wrong.
And the other thing that they consider a trait of a man, be it in novels, opera, real life, that ever praised ability to fight and conquer, and even kill – none of that would they acknowledge once he went through with it.
For all the rest, he was never a man, only a creature. But even those can be hurt beyond imagination.
He wouldn't dare to touch, but his thoughts dared to focus, something fought persistently within him. For some reason, she trusts you. You are a disgrace. Keep your mind on something else. And he did. It was a compromise. He was thinking about those marks and someone else's words. Who could have done that to her?
Every sense of hers was strained as she loosened the ties of her dress, making herself more comfortable. Knowing that he's near, she felt vulnerable, listening to every sound. The tension passed as there was no sign of movement. She curled up. Moments were dragging too slowly, just like they always do when you're vulnerable.
Silence. They have talked while on the road, be it little things or not, they have talked and even when there would be silence, it would not be uncomfortable at all. This was different, they have barely said a few words since they came in. It is almost too quiet. Has he fallen asleep already?
It was frustrating not to know. Unable to stand uncertainty, feeling exposed in a delicate situation, she simply needed to know. It would give her just a little control.
She moved slowly, carefully, without a sound, changing her position a little so she could take a peek through the little space left between the real wall and an improvised one. The darkness hid her. A gleam revealed his position. Right between her and the ladder, but the sight of him calmed her down.
She finally understood that the way he arranged things was not to keep her cornered.
It was to block anyone else out. Things happen, people often can't be trusted and... Well, if someone would dare to enter, they'd have to deal with Erik first.
Something was telling her that a tall man like him wouldn't be easy to bear down.
It did feel kind of good, having a man to protect her. Josephine knew that very well. There was a reason for this.
His back leaned against the wall, half stretching, one of his legs bent. The shadows playing a game, lingering on every crevice of the damaged side of his face. She still wondered of the cause.
He was still but clearly awake, just staring at nothing in particular. Then shifting a bit, his hand traveled to his belt and reached lower.
All at once, memory of girls giggling, and later of Josephines jokes came storming into her head. The next thing that came in a rush was a massive impact of self-reproaching and embarrassment for such presumption.
He pulled something out of his pocket and opened it up. A small round object shining weakly under the moonlight.
A ring.
His fingers were tossing and studying it's shape, while his mind was clearly elsewhere.
Then his fist caged around it and thumped against his forehead once - twice, and kept there near some troubled thoughts.
She felt like having intruded something personal. Returning to her nest, her mind formed an answer, the source of that sorrow which seemed to surround him like a dense cloud when she'd catch him alone and pensive. Now she knew his ache, it was in his heart.
Late into the night, sleepless he span in a whirl of frustration. Recalling the words overheard earlier, comments which so easily marked him as an unworthy miserablé, a creature that deserves nothing more than a shallow carnal act with an easy woman made smooth with a more than decent layer of money. They would never even think of what made him swear off such ways.
Long time ago, too long... Why deny it to himself?
Just as any young man, he wanted to know what it is like to have his heart speed up under the touch of a woman, to know what it's like to feel another body. He used to watch them, threatening to succumb.
But he had never dared to come close. Denied for too long, shunned by those who mattered, he never really took a chance with those who could be bought into a passion play.
Afraid of women, someone shallow might say. Afraid of rejection more like it.
He wanted more than that. Perhaps it was not an ordinary thing when a lonely man in need was in question. He would gladly have used an opportunity if having been given a chance. Many would catch his eye every now and then, but he really wanted something else.
And he'd seen a lot. Once, long ago, when he had been young and those damp cellars wouldn't do for a youngster, he had set out, leaving an only friend behind. Travelling around, sometimes he managed to board onto a ship as an aide, discovering the world as far as the currents and opportunity would have carried him.
Arms of the world lay wide open but have never embraced him.
It wasn't easy, being different. Many employers would refuse to keep a man with persisting stubborness and the need to cover his face, but a skilled man was always wanted and he had been getting around for a long time. The hardest time back in the lands where flaws were connected with sin, where the mutilation was often considered to be a punishment. He could only imagine what they'd think if they were to see his face.
He hid behind many disguises. That, at least, was nothing new for him.
Any facade, except his true face.
Constantly trying to adjust, he would never completely succeed. The curiosity would often pervade and the others could never just leave it be.
Sure, as everyone else, he had a weak point just waiting to be hit.
When men would fall to their vices, he wouldn't resist either. Except for one thing, a remarkable gap - almost the most unforgivable of all - his life never included women for pleasure. It would never take long for others to start noticing.
Once they'd figure it out, they wouldn't let it go, teasing, making comments behind his back or even asking him directly whether he was «unable» - which was a hundred times a sharper blow then when they'd label him as one whose interest wasn't in women but «otherwise».
He tried to ignore them, keeping for himself. But it was just too hard not to bring upon himself the distaste and malevolence of some of the men. Ignoring only made them more audacious. What also made them hate him was that hard-bitten way of refusing to reveal his affliction, and then that habit of being a loner, secluded yet knowing a lot about others.
A recluse yes, but the one who held the strings in his own hands.
Achieving influence, almost an inevitable thing for a man like him who liked to be in power, would usually be the nail in his coffin of detachment. Not that he missed people.
Yet, he had yearned for someone.
But once it could have been different... Once after a work done in Venice, when they were rewarded with a free night and joined a feast that continued on the streets that came to life.
Venice never lacked of beauty. Even if there was not much beauty, they'd invent it, adornish, decorate, polish, lace, paint... Carnivals, masks, wine, women, gamble, love for life...
Beauty unbridled and licentious under the calm surface. So many various disguises available!
Music, a lot of fine music... As though he had discovered a whole new world where he could seemingly blend in. Anyone could choose a masque, anyone could become someone, something other...
The pieces of the puzzle which made that night would never be put into a clear picture. But he remembered too much to fully comprehend even now. Was it all just a lie or was there something veritable about it, after all? He wanted to believe that at least a part of it had been true... That part when they had just begun their little game of illusions.
That evening he had gambled, amongst fellow shipmen, all faceless under masks, just like him, and he had read the giveaway signs so easily. He had been winning, ripping them off, tit for tat, his mastery in revenge for all the despise!
With his prize, pockets full, drunken and floating in the river of masks, he was shoaling along with the crowd. It would be nice, he remembered thinking, living there, just as anyone else...
Where masks are normal so women needen't be blinded with pretense of beauty or normalcy! Where he could easily blind them with money and power, things which could give him a face, even if figuratively.
A disguised yet stunning dark haired temptress had caught his attention, loitering around, closer and further, but always somewhere near.
One of many who had been there with intent.
From her glances he could have sworn that she was interested in something about him, even if it was only the mystery that intrigued her. Already having refused another fellow right there in front of his very eyes, then another one, she danced in the mob around him, swaying and glancing. It felt like she was dancing for him.
They can tell where one is in power, he mused, they sense it.
Winners are wanted, vanquishers get it all. If nothing, they can buy it.
And he was precisely one of those. He didn't care, or better, most of him didn't care about that detail, as he realized that he was just another mask. It felt good, being the mystery alone, and without the horror. A target of a sort in this game of deceivement.
Not much more unusual than any other, a mask which served not to hide a disfigurement but an identity, allowing the person to venture into world of otherwise illicit pleasures.
The drums beating all around him, the music... Had it not been for the music spurring him on, it wouldn't have been the same. He spoke through music, and those drums might have had just as well been beating from within him.
The very incentive, the spur, the turnover must have been in that, those restless drums and the music!
A trigger inside him went off.
Never even seeing her true face beneath the purple feather-ornated colombina, he was ready to follow the dark waves of her hair and that dancing body into the night.
She had whispered something into her friend's ear and kept leading him on with intent. He noticed for she made him notice.
More blur, the wine, the smoke, the impulse... So much music...
She had been seducing, he was sure. One masque luring the other:
«Come and play with me. Let me show you a secret, the one you're yearning to unfold. No one would ever know who we are or what we did... Join me.»
Trying to sell him «love», a substitute for love more like it. Or perhaps just the closest thing to the matter that had been allowed to him. One touch of womanhood.
She was offering what he'd never dared to buy before. She seemed different, lively and youthful. Seductive above all. Perhaps a kept woman searching for her own adventure behind her the back of her lover?
More than ready to believe it, he had been even more willing to accept a decent lie for a trade, if only that would have meant to finally unravel that world he wanted to enter...
A lie for a lie, it was a fair deal.
With one glass of drink after the other, something courageous prevailed within him. With all that other intoxicating marvel in his blood... And music in his head!
For once, he wanted to feel like a man without anyone bringing it into question. He went after her through the night, under the city lights, through the joyful crowd, colliding with people that ceased to exist for him, shoving away the tide of masques. She led him to a strange place. A room inside. They didn't waste too much time on words, looks and gestures served them well.
Revealing his face had not been an option. Even if it meant never knowing her own face, only the seductive mystery of those dark eyes underneath her mask. Even if no kiss, his lips were not the part which ached the most. There was one sole basic rule in their game – masks stay on.
If only for one night... one hour...
What a première!
The mystery flared him up. It would be something to remember, his first woman surrounded by so many secrets, something adventurous, in a strange way dangerously romantic, something he'd only read or fantasize about.
It was too damn easy to become infatuated by the illusion...
No names, they didn't need them, he already gave her one in his mind. For him, she could just as well be Hedone, perhaps she'd be real just for this one night and then vanish into a myth.
Her interest in the bracelet which he had won that evening was obvious, and here he thought how Fortune smiled upon him generously, twice in one night. He noticed how the deep purple hues of amethyst would suit her colombina very nicely.
Her eyes brightened at the sight of the jewels and he offered them with a charming movement, playing with the bracelet around his thick gloved fingers, teasing up her arms, behind her ear, down her jawline. She kissed the precious stones gingerly. But not his fingers.
His pupils have widened at the sight of her bosom peeking out as she unlaced the top of her bodice. Placing the bijou right next to the skin between her breasts, one end swaying on the outer side of the fabric, he noticed her pleased smile.
The price was settled.
And to think that in the ancient times that gemstone was believed to protect the owner from drunkness... Well it was apparently working in her favour from the very start! Wondering along how his drunken body still obeyed him, he let her proficient fingers play with his buttons, but when they'd crawl up his neck alluringly and venture to his face, he didn't let them.
He could barely stand being touched.
Inspite of the inner limit of self control being dangerously weakened with wine and youthful eagerness, he reminded her of the only rule, allowing her fingers only to go lower again.
He himself needed to touch, to be in control.
His own hands inexperienced and gawky running around her waist, turning her back to him, leaning her into him, wandering under her skirts, discovering the secrets between her legs, all that he was aching to reveal. He could, and she would, and he felt, and she let... and they were...
No kisses, just those lustful hands. The sound of breathing ragged with excitement.
It had all happened too fast, he went into her driven with bold arousal.
Flesh against flesh, it was too much.
His need grew exponentially, ready to burst when finally discovering what it is like to feel a woman's body opening to him. Propping her against the wall, forgetting that velvet divan waiting for them just a meter away, lost in the rapture without realization, he could feel her, hear her, smell her...
A woman's nape, back, loins, warmth... Who could tell that the carnal could be so powerful?
He locked her in a grip as though he could sense that she might disappear just like that. She did not resist, caught between him and an upholstered wall, her nails digging into the leather, her slim back squirming and stretching against his body, her moan, it was all novelty to him.
In reality, it came down to a few inexperienced movements.
It couldn't have possibly lasted longer than it takes to get the first small bite... before it was cruelly torn away from him.
She stared back and in those dark eyes he could tell the change.
As though she knew, as though she could see.
With that look, his own flesh began failing within her, pulling away weak. How shameful for him, really. In one single moment everything stopped. As if the world stopped spinning. Far from exploding desire. He could swear that he had heard a voice as she abruptly pulled away from his grip. But it hadn't come from her.
In horror, he realised there was air whipping at his scarred face.
Somehow, in a moment of his weakness, she has managed to turn around, reach out and tear the mask from his face.
Why?! He was exposed! Frozen.
She gasped in a soundless scream, and all the adoration had turned into wrath and despise.
That succubus, an insidious bait alluring him to his fall! That little snake, sent not from Eros but from Tanathos himself! Why?!
He pinned her to the wall griping at that lying throat.
He didn't have to look at the mirror to know what she'd just seen in him. He looked anyway, releasing the little serpent that squirmed away, down into the corner.
Furious, he caught a glimpse of someone standing at the door, appalled and sneering. The shipmen, the ones always provoking, bringing trouble, he had ran afoul of them for numerous reasons, but that evening he had simply humiliated them, ripped them off in an overfull gaming house! Their money, jewels, golden chains on wager, he walked away with it all.
So they'd humiliated him right back.
He - a faceless ugly mute impostor! An interloper whose major sin was the fact that he never allowed himself to yield before them and give way to their prying and query. Erik would not bow his head before anyone since the day he had left his cage. A realisation that this whole charade was their malicious arrangement came kicking hard at his head.
A conspiracy to take back what he took from them, and more - to rip off the things he hid behind – the power, the pride and his mask.
Well, plotting to see what this man really was, they released a demon! He attacked on instinct, pouring his rage in frantic blows, shoving one into the wall and suffocating the other beneath him. A sharp stroke in his ribs made him release his victim. He still fought to breathe in as he heard the sound of others coming.
Seeing her trembling in the corner, he realised that she had been sent with a purpose, payed to reveal a monster. Mumbling words in some strange language he couldn't understand, she curled up on the floor, mute and wide-eyed. His mind heard someone else's words. A voice from his earliest memories, a voice he detested for some reason: «Women are not to be trusted. You'll see, you're the living proof.»
His pride hurt more than broken ribs.
"Now you'll never forget." It was the only thing he could force out in a hiss. That would be the punishment for the deceitful viper, now she'd always fear what's behind one's mask. He cursed it all and flew out never turning back.
Barely escaping alive from the mess, he left everything behind. Drowning in indignity and madness, wanting revenge but unable to do much about it, he hid until they sailed out. Never again did he use the name they knew him by nor embark on a ship ever since that night.
He was determined to disappear.
Having learned best is that he cannot afford himself to trust, he'd relinquish humanity.
Nevermore would he even think of allowing himself a moment of such weakness and stupidity with a woman, not a whore, not any woman that is not his to claim.
No joys of the flesh shared with another being. Not only had he failed right before...
No. It was forbidden to him.
The pleasure of kissing a woman, undressing her, bringing her pleasure like any other man, he lived denied of it.
Perhaps he even believed that he could not be a man any other way except when under his own hand.
It had been easy to be an angel and a ghost. Sex matters little when you're one of those. That way, it was not expected of you to be a man. And when you decided... it was too late.
But he wanted! Oh, how he still wanted!
Even many years later, the only joy he gave Christine was coming from unearthly music and a story of deceivement. And even that night in his lair, when he touched his entranced prey, he had set a limit. Though he rudely dared to feel her skin at first, when her nightgown had revealed the torn seam on her stockings in such a tantalizing way, he stopped right there, knowing that there would be no true pleasure, unless she wanted him.
As a woman wants a man.
And her kiss, the only time in his life... That was the most painful part, not knowing how much of it was extorted and how much truly given.
He was to remain a loner, loveless and unfulfilled.
Slowly, he was coming to his senses. This were different times now.
Almost an another life, one of a wonderer. Still, a loner.
Close to him, the girl was breathing slowly and steadily, the one that trusted him, the one of a whole different kind. Unaware, unprotected, unjudging.
She perceived him as a man. But had she sensed it?
That he is harmless, that his body could but he just somehow cannot.
A man in all his manhood, but who doesn't know how to be a man when with a woman? Perhaps it didn't matter to her.
He kept listening to the calming sound of her even breath, the soothing rythm slowly driving away that demon which caused the turmoil inside his head.
