"M'Lady, it's getting quite late outside, so Zaina and I were thinking of— Oh," he cut himself short when he saw her hunched over a small table in her bedroom. She was completely absorbed into whatever she was doing, shoulders and back tense. "Lady Hildegard? Are you alright?"
"Hmm? Oh, Aden, it's just you. Sorry, I'm just a tad tired. But I assure you that I'm quite alright," she added in when he raised an unconvinced eyebrow. "What—what were you saying?"
She repressed a gulp when Aden's eyebrow arched further. Since when was Hildegard so skittish and separated from the world? Usually the woman was right on spot and attentive to everything around her. This worried him.
Smiling smugly at her, he gently shook his head. " 'I'm tired' isn't an excuse, Hildegard. If you don't want to tell me, then I will respect your decisions. But, since the sun has left this world for the day, Zaina and I were thinking of taking a quick walk around the perimeter of your estate. We don't want to risk the Templar's-"
Waving him off, she gave a forced smile and nodded. "Yes, please, go do that. I think we'd all feel safer that way. Please give Zaina my thanks as well, Aden."
"Yes, M'Lady," Aden gave a small bow and left her room. Sighing from relief of him not detecting what she was up to, Hildegard slouched her shoulders further. Aden was always a nice man. He was tall, successful, polite, and loving to his friends, even if he didn't always show it. Maria had once told Hildegard that he had taken a fancy in her, but Hildegard dismissed the thought. Too many times a man had said those three vile words to her that could reduce a woman's pride to sticks and stones. And unlike the others, he wasn't an Englishman.
Well, besides Damiel—no one knew what he was. Perhaps Maria did, perhaps she didn't. Aden, though, was an Arab. How he had gotten all the way to England from his homeland, she wasn't quite sure, but whenever she would ask, he would just laugh and dismiss the thought completely. It annoyed Hildegard that he didn't trust her enough with that information. And his sister, Zaina, who was six years younger than Aden, barely remembered anything from her childhood. Were they making up stories just to sugar-coat a gruesome tale?
Looking back at her desk, she couldn't believe what she was doing. Had she completely lost her mind?
The member of the Rose was writing a letter. She didn't exactly know who she was writing it to, she only knew where it was going. Maria had never told her the name of her lover before, so, that left Hildegard guessing and trying to come up with names. But she did know one thing: he was an authoritative figure in Masyaf. So, she concluded that he was the Leader of the Assassin's.
Getting up from her desk and breathing deeply, she made her way over to her door and checked to see if it was locked. Turning the handle, she discovered Aden had been a dear and locked the door for her. The man was charming, to some extent, but dangerous at the same time. Is that what drew Maria to this Assassin?
Returning to her papers, she continued her letter. It was only an hour after she and Damiel had met behind the church that she had decided to take action. Maria was dying, slowly, but surely, and she needed that man to put her back together. If the situation was as bad as Damiel had put it, then the woman only had at most two years left to live. Two years worth of agony, that is.
Hildegard had to do this. She loved Maria. She loved her because she was a woman who stood up for her rights and fought alongside men in a very sexist army. She loved Maria because she was able to see without eyes clouded by hate and stereotypes. Most of all, Hildegard loved her because she was strong. She knew how to handle swords, and she most certainly knew how to kick people down ladders. She remembered when Damiel had been chasing Maria throughout Acre, saying that it was an innocent game of 'tag'.
Well, no matter how innocent it might have seen, while Maria was climbing up a ladder to escape from his boyish banter, he had followed her up a little too close for comfort, to put it subtly. Grabbing the sides of the ladder with both hands, she kicked both feet out under her and sent him tumbling down back to the ground. The thought spread a smile across Hildegard's elegant face. Damiel had learned from that day never to play tag with Maria again, or to follow her up on ladders.
But, those were the good days. Those were the days when the Rose was once part of the Templar's. After Robert de Sable was murdered by that Assassin, Maria's bastard of a man, Hildegard began seeing things differently. She began seeing the evil that came from their hands and all the destruction that it caused the people of the Holy Land. Maria had told Hildegard before that she thought that what the Templar's were doing—what theywere doing—was wrong. She saw how the men in the army would find pretty young women in foreign cities and capture them and claim their virginity.
Maria saw how the Templar's would beat an innocent old man for walking in the street. It sickened her to the very core of her being. But she never told Robert of her thoughts. Hildegard guessed that the man could see that she disapproved of their actions, but yet he never asked her how she felt on all of this. He would simply ask, 'Will you die for me?' and she would simply reply with a, 'Yes, My Lord.'
Maybe that was all Robert needed. Maybe he just needed to know that Maria was on his side and his side alone. It worried Hildegard when her ally was captured by the Assassin and escaped to Cyprus with him. Surely he wasn't going to kill her? He had the chance to do so in Jerusalem when Maria impersonated Robert, so why would he then?
It turned out the blonde beauty wasn't the only one that began seeing a different side of the Templar's. Aden and Zaina had also seen it. They told Hildegard that they were afraid that she would have told Robert and they would have been executed for treason. Treason? It wasn't treason at all. It was simply seeing right from wrong. She remembered when she had told Benjamin, the only man she could trust in the Crusades, what her thoughts were. The older man had just smiled at her and took her hand gently and led her to a chapel. Hildegard didn't know what to think of his reaction. Was he leading her to her death? Was he leading her to a place where they could talk in private?
Entering the abandoned chapel, he gave her a hug and whispered into her ear, "Welcome home, Hildegard. Welcome to the Order of the Rose."
She was neither Templar nor Assassin. She was just a rebel now. Her surprise showed in her face when Zaina, Aden, and Damiel appeared from a doorway smiling victoriously at her.
"We'll get those bastards, Hildy, don't you worry," was all Damiel had said to her. He looked very proud of himself. Maybe he was proud that he had finally found a purpose in his life. He didn't want to die for the Templar's, no. Before he joined the Crusades, he was a slaveboy. He was whipped, beaten, and punished for nearly everything he had done to try to please his master. Mainly all he had to do was wash the floors of the grand mansion his owner had lived in, tend the gardens, scrub the non-existing scum off the windows, and cook and wash the dishes all in a day's time. He hardly had any time to himself. When he did, he would watch the guards at the mansion practice their fencing skills. He learned how to handle a sword that way just from watching the men.
Damiel wanted so much more out of his life. He wanted adventure, which is what he got when he joined the Crusades at some extent. He wanted to learn who he was, and he wanted love. He wanted someone to go up to him and merely say, "Thank you," for the reason of just being alive. Was that so much to ask for?
Placing her quill down, she quickly reread her work. It sounded ridiculous! He would most likely tear the letter up without reading it, thinking it a Templar trap. She shook her head. It would have to do. She looked around her room for something to tie close the letter. Without finding anything useful, she looked at the vase of roses she kept nearby. Carefully taking a rose out of the container as to not pick herself on the thorns, she decided it would have to do. She rolled the letter up into a scroll and tied it close with the rose.
Getting out of her seat, she opened her door and looked around the hallway. The interior of her estate was deserted. Good: the last thing she needed was a nosy servant more than willing to deliver this letter for her. She picked up the skirts of her dresses and quickly made her way to a stairwell that lead to the roof of her territory.
It wasn't entirely Hildegard's estate. It used to belong to her older sister, Ermengard, before she married. She married a good man, but he was a politic, not a fighter. He was polite, but Hildegard found him drab and boring. The real men were those who can defend a woman's pride and shed blood without mercy.
Reaching the staircase, she began her ascent. She bounded up the stairs, eager to get this letter out of her hands. The longer it was in her palm, the heavier it felt. She should have at least told Benjamin what she was doing. He would have understood, and he would have kept it a secret from Damiel. No doubt the boy would cause a commotion and burn the letter up in fury of Hildegard's pleads.
The cold night air welcomed her into the outdoors as she finally reached the roof. There was a rather large cage with various types of birds. Hildegard wanted something fast and sturdy, not a pathetic little pigeon that would tire after a couple of hours. This letter needed to reach him and soon. Opening the cage, she cooed at a bird with sharp talons and a deadly looking beak. The falcon stared her down and obediently hopped onto her arm. Hildegard tied the letter to its slender leg and kissed its feathers.
"Please, with all haste, my dear friend, go to Masyaf and deliver this to their Master. Please, oh Great Bird, please grant me this wish." With the bird perched on her left arm, she held it up and waited.
'Please, please, please...'
The falcon let out a terrible shriek and flew off into the night, heading east to Masyaf.
Damiel ran as fast as he could from the Templar. If he was going to fight, he wanted to do it in a secluded area. He didn't have his spear, Riva, on his person, but Damiel knew how to improvise and handle himself in a fight without a weapon. He ran through the streets of London, nearly knocking into people. They shouted at him and raised their fists up in anger, but quickly aborted their actions when they saw the Templar running after him.
Cursing himself under his breath, the boy continued running, wishing that it was night time instead of morning. If he had the cover of darkness right now, this goose chase would not have been happening. He took a sharp left into an alley and continued running, the sound of footsteps close behind him. He could almost feel the heavy breathing of the Templar. Breaking out of the alley and heading once again into a busy street, the Templar lost sight of Damiel for a moment.
A moment was all he needed.
He rushed through the crowd as carefully as he could and risked a look over his shoulder. He couldn't see the Templar. Was he gone? Was he waiting for him? Was he—
Damiel ran without looking ahead of him and nearly had the breath knocked out of him when something grabbed him and pulled him in close. The strong arms around him restrained him from making any action, and the large hand covering his mouth kept him from screaming. The man dragged Damiel further into the alley, and they both watched as the Templar ran right past them, not even noticing the two suspicious figures.
The boy had sweat trickling down his forehead. Finally, when the Templar was out of sight, he threw himself away from his savior and onto the opposite wall of the alley to face him.
"Aden, you fool! What do you think you're doing!" Damiel hissed at the man, not approving of being saved by him. True, they were on the same side, but they despised each other, partly because Damiel took interest in Aden's sister, Zaina.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Aden looked at him with dull interest. "Damiel, is this how you thank someone for saving your pathetic arse? The least you could do is just say 'Thanks'. Or, perhaps that's too much for you to accomplish."
Shaking his head with a threatening snarl, he snapped, "I didn't ask for your help! I could have handled myself just fine!"
"The direction you were running in would have led to a dead end."
"I can fight without weapons, you fool!"
"And if you got hurt? I don't want to see my sister mourning over the loss of your kind."
Smirking, Damiel gave him a devilish look. "So that's what it comes down to. Big brother always looking out for his little sister. When are you going to realize that all she wants is to be free and live her own life without you watching her like a vulture?"
"It is not your concern on how I raise my sibling, filth." Narrowing his eyes at Damiel, he shook his head in disapproval. "What were you even doing out in daylight?"
Shifting his weight and nudging the ground with his toe, he gave Aden a sheepish smile. "And what are you doing out, Aden? Surely you should be courting Hildegard, no?"
Aden sighed and looked up at the sky. 'Is it really that obvious that I care for her?' He stared at Damiel and smiled coldly. "If that's how you want the rules to be, then fine. Let's settle this at the chapel, you gutted pig."
Chuckling from the comment, the two of them made their way out of the alley. Damiel had to admit, he felt more secure and protected with Aden nearby. After all, he was practically a brute. Perhaps Zaina felt the same way.
Walking back to the chapel to report back to Benjamin, the two of them conversed.
"Has Maria been any better?" Aden made his way through the crowd with ease as he gave the citizens charming smiles, the ladies soon becoming weak in the knees. He was handsome, and he knew it. His copper skin and jet black hair was something uncommon in England, and the more uncommon something was, the more attention it gained.
Damiel shook his head. "No, if anything, she's just gotten worse. She doesn't talk to anyone anymore— not even Benny," he added as Aden raised an eyebrow at him.
"Hopefully we'll be able to figure something out that will—" He cut himself short when a group of pretty young ladies stepped in front of him and gave him seducing looks. Well, the looks would have been seducing, but Aden found something much more exotic in another woman. Smiling politely to the girls, he nodded and moved around them, all the while with Damiel looking disgustedly at him. Clearing his throat, he continued, "—help her with her problems. After all, the poor thing's been through so much..." His voice trailed off as a sad frown stretched across his facial features.
"Mmhmm. First, she gets passionate with an Assassin, then she gives birth to a baby nine months later. And then, the baby turns out to be a stillborn—"
"Damiel, we don't need you to be a narrator of what happened. I know, I was there. I helped dig the poor babe's grave, remember?" He shuddered and shook his head in disgust. It wasn't a surprise that the baby didn't make it through the childbirth—Maria had been mourning over her lover and rarely did she ever eat anything.
Continuing further on the streets of London, the neglected chapel of Saint Mary came into view. The two of them walked casually on, trying not to drive any attention to themselves.
Aden succeeded at this. Damiel did not.
The teenager eyed a very attractive woman with a full body. He winked at her, and she only gave him a small smile. His eyes were plastered to her cleavage which showed clear as day that he did not notice he walked into a guard.
Quickly regaining himself, he backed away and gave his apologies. "Ahhh.. Mister, I'm sorry, I—"
"Oh, so now the dirt thinks it owns the place, does it?" The guard shoved him to the ground and kicked him between his legs. Grunting, Damiel clutched his groin and looked at Aden for help. The man was nowhere to be seen, but his laughter was heard quite clearly.
"My apologies.." Damiel managed to say as he got back up on his two feet and shielded his crotch with his hands. "I'll be more careful next time.."
"Next time I catch you being a little ass, you'll be dead!" He spat at the ground in front of Damiel, who sulked away from him, head hung low. He walked toward the chapel and groaned when Aden rejoined him.
"Well, I can see you just got your daily adventure," The older man smiled and patted Damiel on the back.
"You could have helped." His voice was venom to the other's ears.
Chuckling once more, Aden shook his head. "But, why? I'd miss out on you getting your balls kicked off." He bellowed a deep laughter that formed from his throat as the teenager scowled and slouched as he entered the chapel.
"Asshole.."
"Vagina."
Benjamin was standing guard outside of Maria's chamber. Damiel was only supposed to be gone for the night, and the rascal decided to have the day all to himself. Didn't he know that Benjamin would like to see the outdoors too? He sighed and wrapped his arms around him. Last night was a terrible one. Her cries were more desperate and her sobs haunted him as he slept. It was ridiculous the amount of pain she was going through. It was ridiculous how that man could live on as if nothing had ever happened. One was suffering, while the other was not. That did not seem fair to Benjamin!
Maria was still asleep, or so he assumed since no sound came from her room. Maybe she was awake and was staring at the ceiling. He had caught her doing that a few times. She would lay in bed, clad only in her shift, and just gaze at her ceiling. Her eyes would be so wide that he thought she just saw a ghost by how pale she would become.
Benjamin shook his head. Every day was a nightmare for her, and every nightmare was Hell for him. He looked up as he heard the sound of footsteps echoing across the walls of the chapel, and smiled when he heard an all too familiar voice complaining and a man laughing.
"Asshole.."
"Vagina."
"Asshole...!"
"No, I prefer vaginas, not assholes."
"Trip on a rock and damn your large self to Hell, tonto!"
"Please, Damiel, you'll wake the dead up with your foolishness."
"You're going to be dead in a minute if you do not move in the next five seconds, burro!" He tackled Aden to the ground with all his strength, starting their usual wrestling match. They punched, kicked, and bit at each other while a very amused Benjamin made his way over to them. The two of them would never learn to get along—at least not while Damiel was immature.
"Remove your filth from me, slave!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, you rich bastard! Is my filth getting your hands dirty?"
The veteran smiled and grabbed Damiel by his arms and lifted the boy off of Aden. "Come now, you'll wake Maria up. You don't want that to happen, do you?"
Aden was the first to recover from his sudden childish outburst. "Ahh, Benjamin, how is she? Better, I hope?"
"Who can say? She hasn't come out yet." He shrugged and shook Damiel as he still glowered at Aden. "Damiel, forget it. Think about Maria."
Damiel squinted his eyes at Aden in disgust. Of course he was being a polite little dog in front of Benjamin. He was always trying to look like an innocent angel. Personally, Damiel thought angels were supposed to be female and pretty. Aden certainly didn't fit that bill.
Damiel tensed his muscles as if he'd pummel the other man to the ground again. Benjamin held him tighter, then with one quick breath, Damiel slumped his shoulders and his energy died. "Yes, Benny..." He'd get Aden another day.
The Arab's eyes followed Damiel as he walked sluggishly up the stairwell to Maria's quarters. He looked at Benjamin and sighed. "May God be with her."
"Oh, He is, Aden, He is. She just doesn't know it yet."
Damiel knocked on her door, quietly whispering, "Maria? It's me: Damiel. Please, may I come in?" The sound of shuffling feet made its way to his ears and he braced himself. 'Maybe this wasn't a good idea.. I should go now, maybe come back tomorrow with some flowers or chocolates. Yeah, chocolate sounds about right! She likes bitter things, and I'm sure it'd cheer her up—'
Before he had time to turn away, the handle turned and the door opened a few inches. Maria stood behind it, her gray eyes burning into his brown ones. "What is it?" Her voice was dry and her eyes dull. They used to be so fiery and full of life..
"Ahh.. well, I just want to talk," he chuckled nervously. "You see, I, well, err.. may I—" Without finishing his sentence, she opened the door further and let the boy enter her room. "G-gracias." Damiel felt the amazed eyes of Benjamin and Aden burning into the back of his head. Sitting on the foot of her bed, he looked at her and took her sight in. Her clothes hung off her body, an indicator that she had not been eating very well lately. Dark circles had claimed the areas under her eyes as their home, and her hair was-
"Dios.." He breathed in his shock and shook his head sadly. "Maria.. what's.. what's happened to you..?"
A sad look crossed her face. "Many, many things, Damiel.." her voice trailed off and before she could say another word, her vision went black and her knees buckled and she almost fell to the ground, had it not been for Damiel catching her. He screamed for Benjamin and Aden to come, and the two of them burst through the door the second sound escaped from Damiel's lips.
"Maria, you must hold your sword like this!" The man gently yet firmly grabbed the girl's wrist and repositioned the sword in her hands. "Good! Very good! Now, you must attack like this to start a chain of multiple strikes!" The voice was soft and deep as he watched her stumble awkwardly around the training arena. He was always patient with her, unlike her father. Oh, if her father saw her with a sword, he'd skin her alive and disown her, she knew it!
The blade felt wrong in her hands, yet it felt completely welcomed.
This wasn't what a girl was supposed to be learning, was it? But, then again, she did receive regular beatings for wearing her brothers' clothing, so why should this effect her attitude toward herself?
Their blades clanged together as she watched and learned the art of combat. She had seen this man many times fight with other men. Her heart beat at a rapid rate and her body was tense. She had never experienced the adrenaline fighting could give a person before this day. How had this happened to her? Did she really want this?
She knew how it happened. It all began on that boring weekend. She was visiting her family in Canterbury alone. She saw it as an innocent visit to her uncle, but her father and mother had seen it as an escape. She didn't tell her parents or brothers where she was going. She only told herself and that was good enough for the eight year old. Maria was trying to find something to do. She and her cousin, John, who had the same exact birth-date as she did, had already done their normal routine whenever she 'visited'. They harassed the chickens on the farm, they stole bread from merchants, caused mayhem and destruction all throughout town, and as their punishment, the two of them had to sew three quilts.
Sewing was something Maria could not standat home, but she was perfectly alright sticking needles through thread at her uncle's house. Her aunt would play her pipe organ while the two of them worked, and they would laugh and make fun of each other's lack of skill when it came to sewing. Her uncle didn't seem to mind that they were enjoying their punishment. He would sit down in his rocking chair and tell the two of them stories when he was their age. She found it surprising that this man was her father's brother—they were nothing alike! Her father was strict and straight from the book while her uncle thought Maria's behavior was acceptable. She couldn't blame him for thinking that. His wife, her aunt, had much spirit inside of her, and they both looked down upon men who thought women were inferior just because of their sex.
The two children wanted something to do, so naturally they bothered Maria's uncle. He said that he would teach them how to handle a blade if they would stop pestering him. The idea excited Maria and John. Never before had they thought that one day they would learn how to defend themselves. At least, not Maria. She was a lady and had to wear dresses, corsets, stockings, fancy shoes, makeup, and be an obedient ninny to any man. Pah, that did not satisfy her hunger for adventure! She wanted glory. She wanted honor!
It took two years to convince her uncle that John, his son, wouldn't hurt her while fencing. She knew that her uncle was scared for her: she was small and petite while John was tall for his age and his shoulders were already starting to become broad and powerful. That never stopped her, though. Whenever she fell, she would get back on her feet and demand for another fight. Whenever she cut herself, she would quickly bandage the wound and taunt her cousin until he would fight her again. The two of them were inseparable. But, that was just life at her uncle's house.
At home, Maria was a different person. She had asked her brothers to help her with her sword-fighting skills, but they only looked horrified at her and had told their father right away of her request. She soon had her face smacked on both cheeks and thrown into a wall for her disobedience. How was it disobedient for her to ask her brothers for something? Was it really out of her place to ask a question?
Before any new memories of her childhood flooded her thoughts, an image appeared in her mind. She recognized it to be a face, and judging by the features she could make out, she decided it must have been a man. The picture was still blurry to her, but after several moments it began to clear up.
Maria knew the face was familiar. She knew that nose, the stubble, the jaw, the chin, the eyebrows—she knew everything of that man. She knew the intensity of those eyes—
Those eyes could melt Maria with one glance. And that scar on his lips would tease hers to taste it. These features of him..
They were the looks of a killer. This man... why did he seem so familiar?
"Altair..?"
"Oh, Jesus, Mary, Joseph! Why won't she stop?" Damiel scrunched his face together as she began screaming in his arms. He couldn't make out what she was saying, but he knew she was saying the same thing over and over again. He looked at Benjamin and Aden for help, but all they could do was shake and try to wake Maria up from whatever had possessed her.
"Damiel, stop your complaining and help us!" Aden barked at his comrade and shifted his weight over to Damiel to force the boy to let go of the shrieking former Templar and to take his place supporting her. "Get us some water!"
Obeying his command, Damiel gratefully sprinted out of her room and to his own. He knew he had a vase of flowers in his room, and all flowers need water...
Oh, he hoped he remembered to water the poor things!
Racing back with the flowerless vase, he threw himself down beside Maria and gracelessly emptied the container on her face. The three men watched in silent hope as her eyes squinted. She let out a breath the three didn't even know that she'd been holding and shot her eyes open. She panted heavily and her eyes darted frantically across the room to her friends.
"Benny.." She let out a soft whine and covered her face with her hands. The fatherly figure put his hand on her cheek and gently stroked it with his rough fingers.
"Shhh, shh.. Maria, it's alright, we're here, everything's fine," he whispered lightly and wrapped his arms around her as he embraced her. She sobbed into his shoulder and began weeping.
"Benny.. he was there.." Her voice was high pitched and strained from screaming. Her words caught on her crying and she clung to her friend for support. "I saw him.. he was there.. he was with me.. we were-"
Aden and Damiel took her hands in their own and squeezed them, letting her know that she wasn't alone. She clenched their hands back and continued speaking out loud as Benjamin rubbed her back. "We were..."
"Maria, oh dear Maria, I know, I know.." His voice comforted her to some extent. "It was just a dream, you're alright.."
"We were.." She gulped back the lump that had been forming in her throat and rested her face in his shoulder. "We were together.. with our baby.." Her head shot up and she stared at Aden and Damiel with a look of horror in her eyes. "My baby..! Where is my baby?"
The two of them looked at each other, the former looking guilty. It was Damiel that finally broke the unbearable silence. "Maria.. Your baby.. your baby died three months ago.. Your body couldn't support the child.."
She shook her head and laughed. "No, no! My baby- my baby's alive! He's... he's right here..!" she removed herself from Benjamin and made her way to her bed. She picked up her pillow and began cradling it. "This is my baby... see?" She held the pillow out to the three of them. They all looked extremely exhausted and they felt terribly awful for Maria. Benjamin shook his head and gently took the pillow out of her hands and set it on the bed. He then covered one of her hands with both of his.
"Listen, Maria. Your baby is dead. You gave birth to it, and it wasn't alive when it came out of you." His eyebrows furrowed together as he saw her look of doubt. He sighed and began telling her the story to try to knock some sense into her. "A year ago, you returned to Acre to visit your Assassin friend, yes? Well, when he visited you, you ended up showing each other a great deal of affection and ended up making love to each other that night on a tower.
"Maria, you became pregnant after that night. You then returned to England because Damiel and I had asked for you to come back to us. We didn't know that you were pregnant, but nine months later, out came the baby. Out came a dead baby." Tears began forming in her eyes and she looked from the pillow back to Benjamin.
What had she just done?
She ran back into his arms and began crying in rage of her stupidity. "Benjamin..? What's wrong with me? Why am.. Why-"
"It's okay, Maria, your body is just tired. Come, let us go downstairs and get something to eat, hm?" He wrapped an arm around her waist and lead her out of her room and nodded his head to the two others in the room. They still had a shocked expression on their tan faces.
Clarence was at the chapel of Saint Joseph visiting a priest, one of his good friends. He had made it his duty to befriend as many people as possible to create the most connections as possible. Clarence, being a Templar, had much persuasion that he could persuade the citizens to trust him and his word. But, this priest was unlike the others. He was also a matchmaker, and he could pair two people up with a simple nod of his head and waving of his hands. Just what Clarence needed.
He sat patiently on a pew as the man began preaching to the other subjects in the holy building. Their heads were bent down and hands folded neatly under their chins, silent murmurs escaping their lips. Clarence merely sat with his head bowed down, keeping his face concealed from the others. Several minutes passed before the religious people finally began leaving the church and returning to their homes. When they were all gone, the Templar stood up from his seat and held his arms open. The priest and Templar gave each other a brotherly hug and patted each other roughly on the back.
"Clarence, my boy, I trust the Lord is in your favor?" The priest had a kind face. He was definitely middle aged since his skin was wrinkly and no longer tight around his eyes.
Chuckling and leading the priest to a pew, he replied, "Ahh, Father, he has been more in my favor. I trust you may able to be favorable to me as well," he looked at his friend who smiled and dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand.
"Clarence, you know that I am a man of my word and that I support the Templar's with my whole being. How may this priest be of service?"
"I'm in need of a wife, Father."
"Ahh, it's about time! You aren't getting any younger, and I presume He sees it fit that you are to find one. Would you like me to browse through the candidates?"
Looking up at the dome of the church, Clarence shook his head. "Ahh, my friend, I already have a woman picked out."
"Really? And may I be so bold as to ask who?"
"Maria. Maria Thorpe." He trusted the priest, although he didn't trust him enough. This upcoming act was what he had been practicing on his way to the church, imagining himself doing something completely irrational. He drew in a deep breath as the man began to protest, and then continued on with a desperate, hungry voice, "I want her, Father. I want to feel her smooth, pale, beautiful, soft skin. I want to feel her breasts against my chest. I want to be on top of her and I want to make her mine." He edged closer to the priest as his voice grew more and more dramatic. The man stared at him in disbelief and let him continue with his reasons.
"Never before had I seen someone so.. intoxicating. I'm intoxicated, Father. I want to feel her smooth hair through my fingers. I want to be able to nip at her neck whenever I feel like it. I want to dominate her and make her obedient and insert my shaft inside her so deep that we will always be one being. Please, Father."
He was speechless. He had never seen Clarence want anything so badly before—let alone a woman! "I- I believe it can be arranged-"
"Don't believe! End my suffering and make it happen!" Clarence threw his hands up in the air and spoke to no one in particular. "Maria Thorpe! Beautiful, delicious Maria Thorpe! I've had feelings for you since the day I first saw you! I've stood quietly in the shadows and watched as you have developed from a scraggly girl to the luscious, curved woman you are now! Please, O Lord, please let this woman be mine!"
Raising his hand to silence his friend, the priest gave his response. "Very well, Clarence. I shall arrange your marriage, and you two shall soon be wed-"
"Father Henry, please. I want to be wed to her within the week!"
"Today's Tuesday, my boy-"
"I'm completely aware. Let us be married on Friday! That way, the night can be ours, and in the morning, oh beautiful, lustful Saturday morning, we may be each other's all over again!" He once again threw his head back and raised his arms to the ceiling and a look of wanting was etched into his fair skin.
The priest smiled and placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Come Friday, you two shall meet here. Come Friday, her white lips will be yours, your black lips will be hers. Come Friday, her body revealed. Come Friday, your desires fulfilled."
Giving his thanks to his friend, Clarence bounded out of the church victoriously. Not only was he going to make the Templar's rich and powerful, but he was going to get himself a beautiful woman in the process.
The day just keeps on getting better.
Translations:
Tonto: idiot
burro: donkey
Dios: God