Disclaimer: We all know this. I doubt you even read it anyway.
Authoresses Note: Due to circumstances beyond my control (please blame my muse) I'm afraid the white ruffled shirt and Don Juan pants belonging to the Phantom of the Opera were cut and destroyed in the writing of this chapter. I would personally like to apologise to you all, and ask a moments silence in respect for the sacrifice these articles of clothing made so that this piece may continue…thankyou. (On the plus side, we do get Erik down to his drawers, so it balances out, sort of.)
The two wagoners pondered the man stretched out before them. He was a wreck that much was certain. He was the closest thing to a living skeleton either of them had ever seen, only the quick, rasping rise and fall of his chest belayed any sign of life.
"What should we do Jan?" one asked, looking down at his companion. The shorter Jan shook his head,
"I dunno Fron, he looks pretty darn awful."
Fron leant in closer with the lantern and stumbled back in shock. "Good Lord, Jan! Look at his leg!"
Both men recoiled in horror from the blood oozing from Erik's wound.
"Well that settles it," said Jan, "we cant just leave him here, boor bugger."
Fron pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders, "How long d'you think it's been since we passed the old dead tree by Maggie's Creek, Jan?" he asked.
"Bout two miles maybe? Why?"
"Well if yer right, it should be no more'n a mile or so to Miss Louise's, she might know what to do."
Jan peered through the drizzle, searching for a glimpse of a candle in a window.
"Good thought there Fron, she probly would." He reached down and grabbed Erik's legs, "Here, help me get this poor fellow in outta the rain."
Together, the two men hoisted up Erik and shuffled over o the wagon. The man was as thin as a rake, but he had a weight like all the guilt a man could muster in a thousand lifetimes rested on his shoulders. The two wagoners grunted as they heaved Erik into the wagon, among sacks of flour and potatoes and kegs of ale." Jan threw an old blanket over the man and leapt up beside Fron to take the reins.
"Gee up there old Clarabelle, get goin'" the horse nickered in reply and began to plod along.
The men rode in silence, casting wary glances back at their half-dead passenger every now and again, until they reached a small stone cottage where, thankfully, a candle still burned within.
Fron leapt from the wagon and ran through the rain to the door. "Miss Louise!" he shouted above the downpour, "Miss Louise, you there?"
The door opened and a young woman of twenty stood there, wrapped in a blue dressing gown, book in hand.
"What on earth is the matter Fron?" she asked, standing aside to allow him entrance, "Is it Mary?"
Fron shook his head, "we found a man, Miss, Jan an' me, he's lookin' pretty bad."
"Where?" demanded Miss Louise, all business, Fron motioned to the wagon, "We got him in there Miss."
"Right," reguardless of her bare feet, Miss Louise strode to the wagon, she nodded briefly to Fan, who sat shivering by the lantern, and flipped back the blanket covering erik. She gasped when she saw the state of his leg and quickly reached to feel for a pulse at Erik's throat. It was erratic, but still there. Fron bobbed up and down like a frightened chicken, "He was just lyin' there, Miss, by the side o' the road, near Cleary's Bend, we didn't know where else to take him…"
"That's fine, Fron," she cut him off abruptly, "Now the both of you, bring him inside. Quickly!" Miss Louise ran back inside and to her large worktable in the main room. She swept aside the clutter and hurriedly laid a snowy white sheet over the boards. Running to her room, she snatched up her kit and returned just as Fron and Jan staggered in with Erik's limp form.
"right there in the table gentlemen," she commanded, tossing off her dressing gown and tying on a broad white apron over her shirt and soft breeches.
The men struggled, but finally lifted Erik onto the tabletop as Louise washed her hands, still giving orders.
"Now Fron, you stoke up the fore, and Jan, light as many candles as you can find in here, then put the kettle to boiling and throw in a handful of dried leaves from the white pot beside the stove. You'll know them by the peppery smell." She dried her hands on the apron and picked up her scissors to start cutting away Erik's trousers. (Authoress weeps as she forces the beautiful Don Juan trousers to be cut). The two men scurried to do her bidding. Fron turned back from the fire to find Miss Louise carefully snipping away the wounded man's once white shirt, (Authoress weeps again at destruction of ruffled white shirt), to reveal a mass of scratches and scars.
"Good Lord," she murmured, unconsciously echoing Fron's earlier statement, as she ran light fingers over his injuries.
"Miss Louise?" Fron interjected carefully, "Ye cant be strippin' him down like that, its not decent! Perhaps we should go fetch Doctor Frank?.."
Miss Louise snorted, "I wouldn't trust that man with a sick dog, Fron" she replied, "and I cant fix him through his clothes, I'd only do more harm than good." She flashed a grin a the bewildered looking man, "Besides, who d'you think delivered yer wife of that lusty brat of hers not more'n two weeks ago? There's not much I ain't seen, Fron, and I dare say I know more about Mary's in's an' outs 'n you do."
Fron flushed with pride at the mention of his son, the first to live apart from his two daughters, "Aye, he's a loud un' alright, good strong lungs. Simeon, we've decided to call him."
Louise grinned in pleasure, "Good name for a god Lad," she approved, just as Jan came puffing in with a heavy kettle of boiling water and herbs.
"Ah, good man, just on that stand over there," she motioned with her scissors. Having stripped Erik down to his drawers (Authoress momentarily faints onto keyboard at mental image), Louise proceeded to take a bunch of white cloths and began to sponge away the blood and grime on Erik's leg.
Fron and Jan stood together by the fire, watching the blonde young woman as she grimly concentrated on her grisly task. Jan's eyes looked up and down the strange man, seeing him for the first time in a decent light. He stopped in surprise at the sight of the man's face, covered by a half mask.
"Look here!" he exclaimed, stepping forward, "He's wearing a mask!" his fingers stretched forward to remove the disguise, but were suddenly stopped by the firm hand that grasped his wrist.
"Not there'll be none of that, Johannes Smill," Miss Louise commanded, fixing him with a steely glare. "This man wears that mask for a reason and its none of our places to decide to reveal his secrets to the world."
Jan swallowed and stepped back, as miss Louise continued to clean and mop the gash. It was long, reaching halfway down his calf up to the top of his thigh. Luckily it hadn't hit any veins or tendons, but it would still be tricky business to mend.
She drew out a thin needle and a reel of black cotton thread. She threaded the needle and tied a smart knot in the end. Carefully pressing the lips of the wound together, Louise stuck her needle into the man's flesh and drew the thread through. Both men winced.
Louise looked up and noticed their pale expressions, both tinged slightly with green, and smiled in sympathy. "There's a loaf of fresh-baked bread in the kitchen," she told them, "You can help yourselves to the ale too if you so wish." the men nodded gratefully and shuffled around the body on the table fearfully as if it might awaken at any moment. Louise sighed and looked at her work, "After than you may as well head home boys, this poor fellow isn't going anywhere soon."
The two men nodded again and disappeared into the kitchen. "Oh and Fron?" Miss Louise called, he appeared in the doorway, "Yes Miss Louise?" he said, trying not to look as she tugged at the thread to keep the stitches firm. "There's a pot with lavender paste on the window sill, a purple ribbon around the neck, take it, its for Mary. Tell her to rub it on her back at night before she goes to sleep, it will stop the backache. I meant to give it to her tomorrow, but you're here now so you may as well take it with you."
Fron bobbed his head up and down, "As ye wish Miss Louise," he replied, ducking back into the kitchen.
"And give Mary and the girls my regards!" Louise shouted, then turned back to the all but dead man before her. She sighed, it was going to be a long night.