Chapter 11

The sunlight was blinding off of the snow and did nothing to dispel the biting cold. Motes of ice swirled in the dancing zephyrs raised by our passage as my beast bore me along the road at a ground eating canter. I felt invigorated and alive, the taste of copper in my mouth from breathing the cold air. The sky was a delicate blue so light it was barely tinted at all and not a single cloud marred the dome of the heavens.

We rode for what felt like a lifetime and was at once no time at all and all was right with the world.

Gradually, I noticed another noise playing counterpoint to the music of my horse's measured pace and spied a small cabin set aside from the road a ways. It was far too cold for scents to travel but I could see a thin thread of smoke rising from a shabbily built chimney jutting out of a sparsely thatched roof. The little structure was so mean, I was almost annoyed at its presence within my purview as I came closer. The noise resolved itself into the regular thunk of a wood axe and a tiny figure came into view, toiling mightily against a small pile of unsplit logs. I watched as the figure lay down the huge axe to wrestle another massive log onto the stump used for splitting. It was a woman. Made delicate by distance and fighting long, dark skirts, headscarf and cloak as well as deep, uncleared snow. She wearily took up the axe and rested it across the log for a moment, leaning on it and watching me pass. Her gaze was like an arrow, straight and direct and I knew that this was no peasant.

Seemingly without my direction, my horse had slowed to a walk and began to pace towards the hut. The woman made no move to continue her chore, exhaustion etched her stance.

I rode into the small area bare of trees directly in front of the hut, my horse forcing his way through the drifted snow. Without conscious thought, I swung down from the saddle and trudged the last few feet towards the woman. She hadn't moved, her direct gaze drawing me in like a lodestone.

"Mistress…" I began but got no further, she scoffed at me a gave me a sardonic half smile from under her headscarf, her direct gaze challenging my words even before they had been uttered.

"I am that, I suppose, though you've never used the word." She pushed the headscarf off her head and face, allowing her hair to uncoil. It was Ella, but not as I knew her. She had hardened.

Her blue eyes were challenging and frank, where they had been clever, curious and open before. Her skin was darkened from wind and sun damage and crow's feet were beginning to show at the corners of her eyes. A few strands of grey marked her dark hair. She had filled into a woman's form, where she had been only on the edge of womanhood before, but though she had broadened, she looked thin and slightly pinched. Her hands, which rested on the axe were wrapped in rags but even so, I could see the chapped and reddened spots of chilblains.

I took all this in analytically but it was as if I was two people in one body because my emotions were running rampant. I felt joy and excitement at seeing her, confusion at how she had changed and slightly hurt by her attitude. At one remove another Char felt very differently. My other self was angry about the challenge in her gaze but also filled with dark, roiling lust. I wanted to go to her, but I had not intended to move so quickly. Before she could raise a hand from her axe handle I had crossed the few steps between us and taken up a handful of her hair, wrenching her head back at a cruel angle. From the look in her eyes, she had never intended to move and had expected this behaviour. Mockery screamed from the derisive twist of her lips.

"You don't want to have tea first, then?" She growled through clenched teeth. I could hear in her voice that I was hurting her but I was powerless to release her. I could feel my cock straining against my breeches and felt deep, horrified shame. I threw her away from me by the handful of hair and she stumbled and fell in the snow. I heard what I thought was sobbing but as she turned back to me, she wiped the snow from her face, revealing a mocking grin and impudent laughter.

She hauled herself up and walked towards the hut, still laughing. I followed, feeling the mixture of anger and lust deepening. I was afraid of what might happen next, I felt the need to rescue her from myself but was powerless to act.

If it was possible, the hut was meaner on the inside. There was a lean-to where Ella led me and she removed her outermost garments, shaking off the worst of the caked on snow. Underneath she wore a much mended homespun dress. Scarves and additional skirts were piled one atop the other to cover holes in underlying garments. My alter ego did not remove his cloak or boots and uncaringly trailed snow and muck into the tiny house. There were no windows to let in cold drafts in winter and insects in the summer but it was dark and smelled of cabbage, wood smoke and unwashed clothes. It took time for my eyes to adjust to the gloomy, smokey interior. Ella was standing in the middle of the floor next to a wooden box piled with blankets over straw, her bed. I brought her into my arms, she was stiff and unresponsive, her arms clutched across her chest in protection, a posture that belied her seeming bravado. I kissed he forcefully, pushing my tongue into her unresisting mouth. She was so stiff, my other self's passions seemed to leave her unmoved. I could feel his anger overcoming his lust and he pulled away from her and backhanded her onto the bed. She came up, spitting like an enraged cat, and leapt for me, trying to scratch my face. A trickle of blood oozing from one nostril. I grabbed her hands, her finger crooked into claws and held them against her sides. She tried to bite at me and I pushed her back onto the bed, climbing atop her, pinning her arms with my knees. With my hands free, I undid my breeches, noticing for the first time, I had a paunchy belly riding over my belt.

My other self climbed off Ella, carefully securing her arms as I took my weight off them then flipped her onto her front and she wildly kicked at me. Both knees took solid blows but I was not dissuaded from my purpose. Muffled by her facedown pose in the straw mattress, I thought I heard curses in various languages and I laughed aloud. I freed one hand and hauled her threadbare skirts up and pushed them over her, using them to trap her wildly struggling arms, pressing them firmly to her sides. I kicked her feet apart I let her arm go, trusting in her skirt to hold her and fumbled with my cock, feeling it throb in my hand. As she fought and squirmed, panting and cursing I pushed my cock slowly into her, the blissful warmth of her curling my toes in my boots. I could hear the tearing of her skirt as she struggled against it and put my hand back on her arm, pressing her into the bed. I pounded into her harder and harder roaring with the unaccustomed exercise and fighting the inertia of my weighty body. Blissfully I ignored her grunts and eventual sobs as I took her forcefully, enjoying her struggles as stimulation to our coupling. My inner self watched in horror, unable to divorce myself from the experience, every sense alive, just as his was alive. I felt myself coming to the end of this macabre parody of the lovemaking we had shared so tenderly and spilled my seed in her, the monstrous controlling self roaring in triumph while my inner self felt the burning bile of self recriminations scald me. Horrified, I tried to pull away and couldn't, I was afraid for my sanity and horrible guilt and pain wracked me. Slowly he pulled free of her, slapping her bottom jovially and wiping his cock on the edge of her blanket before pulling up his pants. She pushed her skirt down but lay face down, not looking at me. Out of a pocket, I pulled a weighty package wrapped in paper and dropped it next to her prone form. I turned and walked out the door without a backward glance. The monstrous self did not take note of the five huddled forms in the corner behind the door. Children of various ages, uncharacteristically silent. Their gazes were a horrifying rebuke and my inner self felt it like a kick to the gut. Back in the cold crisp air, I swung back into the saddle a child of six or so was standing in the yard watching me. His tousled hair could have been my own and freckles stood out starkly on a pale but sweet face.

"Tell her not to waste that ham, if you have a new brother in the fall, I'll bring a goat for the babe."

With that, I wheeled my horse and rode back onto the road, not looking back, even though my inner self longed for and dreaded another look at that ramshackle hut.

The drumming of the horse's hooves was hypnotic and with the scouring that had been done to my soul, I fell into a state of shock, numb with reaction.

I vomited everywhere. Sitting bolt upright in my camp cot, I spewed my bile over the floor. I thought I had vomited everything I had the night before, but this was now and new vomit had been conjured from the depths of my body. I heaved until there was nothing left and heaved some more. A warm hand rested on my forehead and pushed my hair off my face. From the heat of it, I could tell that I was chilled and covered in cold sweat.

When it was over, I looked up blearily at Alverson. He did not look well, his skin was sallow and he had dark rings around his eyes. I realized this wasn't my cot after all, but his. He must have stayed all night. His valet, Dirick bustled in and began to clear the mess off the floor mats with unobtrusive efficiency. I tried weakly to protest that I would clean it, but he ignored me. Alverson patted my cheek until I was looking at him, not Dirick, concern on his face.

"Are you feeling alright, Sire?" I tried to work some moisture I to my mouth then gave it up as a bad job,

"Water?" I croaked, and Alverson handed me a glass from a nearby table. I drained it and held it out for him to refill from his pitcher. I drank again then tried to find my voice. "Did you sleep at all?" I managed.

"Not a wink," he smiled crookedly, "one does not sleep well when one's Prince is snoring in one's bed."

"Was I snoring?" I smiled warmly.

"No, actually you were mostly moaning and thrashing." He stood and I noted that he was fully dressed for riding.

"Has my father's party left yet?"

"Your father's party left at first light, most of the local lords left last night. It is just us and the retainers that were left to clean up the pavilions."

"Good, we need to make new plans."