Nor will we ever, if bloody Phlebas and Jollyrei keep killing everyone I take a shine to.
I know she is, but - you know what? There's this thing she does....
That's it!
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The Old Firm
- Thread starter Jollyrei
- Start date
Nor will we ever, if bloody Phlebas and Jollyrei keep killing everyone I take a shine to.
That's it!
Who take the sword in the hand, will die trought the sword!Nor will we ever, if bloody Phlebas and Jollyrei keep killing everyone I take a shine to.
I know she is, but - you know what? There's this thing she does....
That's it!
Madiosis say:
Who take the whip in the hand, will feel the whip on hisself!
Old Firm – Section 3:
Windar walked out of the Roman storefront that he and Wragg had built over the past 5 years. A good gig, he thought. Nothing too strenuous. Most of it was the odd judicial flogging, but the mainstay of their business had been catering to the fancies of the bored women of the aristocracy, whose husbands were either older bureaucrats or senior military officers, all of whom seemed to have mistresses and young slave girls, leaving their wives to run estates. They started out, Windar thought, by watching slaves gyrating at the whipping post as they were punished for some minor offense, and graduated to wondering what that might be like if they got whipped themselves. Windar and Wragg prided themselves on administering exactly the right amount of pain to produce the best possible erotic response, and they got to interact with rather a lot of attractive naked women in the process, all very discretely. Discretion had been another of their inventions. No Tribune of Rome was ever going to find out from them that his wife had a fancy for the whip, and sometimes for the man wielding it.
Yes, he was going to be sad to see that go. All good things come to an end, he reflected. He turned down the street…
…which became a Victorian laneway in a forested part of England, an obscure parish known as Little Brampton, at the heart of which was the village of Cruxton. Even Parliament didn’t pay it much attention, which was convenient. Wragg was technically the Lord of the Manor, having “inherited” the Abbey and the surrounding lands from the old Abbot, who had been deposed under Henry VIII. An oath of fealty had kept Henry’s troops from looting the Abbey, and after that, it was the first Lord Wragg’s pleasure that the king would conveniently forget about Little Brampton altogether.
Windar walked up the drive to the Abbey, wondering what year it actually was, and whether he had to remember the code for the keypad or use his rather large rusting iron key to open the door. He was roused out of this reverie by a speeding dark red roadster, being driven by a blonde woman. It nearly bowled him over. The woman let out an expletive in French, and jammed on the brakes. The sleek automobile skidded to a stop in a cloud of gravel dust.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Windar,” said the woman, jumping out to see that he was okay. Windar dusted off his black tailcoat. “But you will get yourself killed walking in the middle of these narrow English roads. Can you not get them paved?”
“Good morning, Mademoiselle Messaline,” said Windar. “I can assure you that I am quite without injury. I see you have arrived before his lordship and me.”
“There is some trouble, yes?” said Messaline. “You will need an amazon with my skills.”
“Yes,” said Windar. “We might indeed.” He speculated that Jollyrei and Phlebas had never yet bothered anyone in the Abbey, but that might not last forever. “We have to get ready to host his lordship and Barb Moore,” he added. “Barb is in some trouble, and she doesn’t remember…well…anything really. We will need to defend her, until such time as she gets her memory back. Above all, we have to stop her falling into the wrong hands.”
“And whose hands are wrong?” asked Messaline.
“Jollyrei and Phlebas,” said Windar.
“Merde,” said Messaline. “So, as you English say, we have work to do.”
“Are we the only ones who say that?” asked Windar. “Anyway, I’m American.”
“Then we will have to be pragmatic,” said Messaline. “Come on.”
* * *
Wragg left the shop, with a sign chalked in Latin expressing regret that the shop was closed due to a family illness. He knew Windar would get the Abbey ready, and he also knew that Messaline would arrive to help. Fortunately, Jollyrei and Phlebas were easily distracted by someone like Eulalia, and would be quite intrigued by her walking into their lair. That would keep them busy for a while – at least as long as Eul could stay alive. He checked the box she had given him. It still looked like a box, quite dormant. That was a good sign. Hopefully Eul could find out what this was all about as well. Beyond Barb being, well, special, he found her quite attractive. Very attractive, he had to admit.
The old Abbot would have liked having her in the cellars doing some sort of female novice penance. That was a while ago, he thought. Actually, it hadn’t happened yet, he reflected, since he was back in Roman times, and the Abbey dated to the Saxons in England. That cheered him up. Something to look forward to.
He went around the back of the shop where there was a horse. It looked rather gray and dowdy. Wragg rummaged around in a box in the back shed and came out with a shining polished leather saddle. The horse looked at him a bit skeptically as he pulled the ratty blanket off the horse’s back, and put the saddle on. Then he got out a similar bridle, with shining steel bit and fittings. He wondered if the Romans had steel yet. The horse still looked a bit less than enthusiastic, but took the bit with an air of resignation. Wragg stepped back to look at the horse. In the five years he had endured a number of jokes at his expense on the apparent age, lack of breeding, and apparent poor health of his mount, who had wandered slowly over the countryside or through the garrison town. Nobody had ever offered even a single sestertius for it. Wragg sighed at the thought and mounted. Well, good riddance to them, he thought.
The townsfolk might have been surprised to see the horse walk smartly out of the yard and break almost immediately into a blazing gallop. Appearances, Wragg reflected, could be so misleading.
* * *
“I do hope you enjoyed your tea,” said Jollyrei. “Mr. Phlebas does pride himself.”
“Blend of Indian and African black teas,” said Phlebas. “Another biscuit?” He offered Eulalia a digestive out of a tin that actually said McVities on it. She hadn’t seen a tin like that in years – digestives came in cellophane wrap now, or would come in cellophane later than now. Somehow these biscuits were here now. At least, she thought, it would be centuries before they were past their “best by” date. She took a biscuit.
“It’s lovely tea,” she said truthfully. Phlebas smiled at her. It was a show of genuine pleasure that did not diminish at all her sense of imminent danger. He could be quite friendly as he was sticking a knife in your ribs, she thought.
“Not many people around here appreciate these little things,” said Phlebas.
“So true, Mr. Phlebas,” said Jollyrei. “A very astute observation as always. And,” he turned to Eulalia again, “we are also quite intrigued by your arrival here in our humble, and hopefully temporary, dwellings. We ask ourselves, how you came to know of it, and more importantly…”
“…what do you want?” said Phlebas, still friendly, but somewhat menacing. Mind you, Phlebas could be menacing just by being in a room, Eulalia thought.
“Well,” she said, “shall we get right down to brass tacks?”
“A fine metaphor,” said Jollyrei. “Let us do as you suggest, at least for starters.”
“I have someone you are looking for, I think,” said Eulalia, “but in return, I want to know why you are hunting her, and who your employer is.”
“Fair exchange, so to speak,” said Jollyrei. “Could we not simply try to extract the information from you.”
“Get down to brass knuckles, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas.
“A rather crude turn of phrase, Mr. Phlebas,” said Jollyrei, “but apt.”
“But you are reputed to be sporting gentlemen,” said Eulalia. “I have this key.” She held up a silver key on a black metal chain.”
“And?” asked Phlebas.
“If you tell me what I want to know, and let me leave in peace,” she said, as Phlebas grimaced at the disagreeable suggestion, “I will leave the key on the table for you.”
“What’s the key open?” asked Phlebas.
“It will take you through a portal to my cottage, where Barb is now,” Eulalia said.
“And if we don’t agree to these terms?” asked Jollyrei, contemplating a biscuit, which he popped into his mouth with obvious relish.
Eulalia stood up and walked across the room, watched intently and warily by the two men at the table. She stopped by a round wall surrounding a dark hole.
“Then, I will drop it down this well,” said Eulalia. She held key over the dark opening to the well. “You’ll have a hard time finding her then.”
“Let us not be hasty,” said Jollyrei. “How do we know she’s at your cottage?”
“You would have to take my word.”
“We don’t let people go,” said Phlebas menacingly, standing up.
“No,” said Jollyrei, “and I think you’re bluffing.”
“Very well,” said Eulalia. She dropped the key.
* * *
Wragg arrived at the cottage and checked the small box from Eulalia again. It was still just a box. It wasn’t doing anything except being a box. He hated it. He stuffed it back into his tunic, and pulled out a silver key. He smiled. If you didn’t have the key, the clearing would not contain a cottage. That was elvish craft for you.
Windar and Messaline emerged from the back garden through a small gate. “You made it,” said Windar.
“Yes, no trouble,” said Wragg, “thanks to Rory here.” He pointed at his horse which was now looking bored and nibbling the odd fresh shoot of grass. “Good to see Miss Messaline as well,” he added.
“You never told me Windar is Americain,” said Messaline.
“He can’t help it,” said Wragg. “Born there or something.”
“But he has been at the Abbey since before there was an America,” said Messaline.
“Complicated stuff, time,” said Wragg. “Anyway, everyone has to be born sometime, and somewhere. They might not stay there.”
“Or then,” said Windar. “Let’s go in.”
They found Barb and Erin in the kitchen. Erin was in green hose and an embroidered tunic that showed off her elvish figure. Barb was still mostly naked, although she had tied a towel around her waist. Most of the cottage appeared to be a large kitchen. She grabbed a butcher knife as the three entered. Erin drew her sword and glared at Wragg.
“You!” Erin spat. “Look what a mess you’ve caused!”
“Look,” said Wragg, “I know it looks bad, but I did what I thought was best.”
“Who are these people?” asked Barb.
“That one,” said Erin, pointing at Wragg, “is Lord Wragg. He’s devious, conniving, and probably lecherous. Don’t trust him.”
“This is the thanks I get for warning you?” asked Wragg.
“He had me whipped!” exclaimed Barb. “I didn’t recognize him in those strange clothes, but it was him, or a Roman who looked just like him!”
“You…” growled Erin stepping toward Wragg with her sword rising.
“It was necessary,” said Wragg. “We had to gain time. We had to stage a real Roman crucifixion, or those two would have simply killed her when they found her. As it was, you barely got there in time.”
“Huh,” said Erin, as if not convinced, but she lowered the sword. “What are you doing here now? Where’s Eulalia?”
“We have to get Barb out of here,” said Wragg. “There’s no time to waste. You have to trust me.” He stepped toward Barb.
“Stand back,” she said. “I know how to use this.”
“For carving a roast, for example?” asked Windar mildly.
“No,” said Barb. “Well, yes, actually, but also for carving unwanted attackers.”
“We are not attackers,” said Messaline. “We are rescuers.”
“Why is everyone rescuing me?” asked Barb. “I’ve been whipped, crucified and I don’t even have any clothes. It’s nice of you all to have brought me here, but I’m not leaving until someone tells me what’s going on…” She glared at Wragg. “…and finds me a dress or something,” she added.
“Yes, we have to get your memory back,” said Messaline. “You are...”
Wragg coughed.
“You are more than a slave,” said Messaline.
“Who are you?” asked Barb.
“I am Messaline, an amazon warrior,” said Messaline. “I am usually in France. I fight with you.”
“I don’t know if I fight,” said Barb. “I’m a slave, well, was a slave.”
“She still thinks she’s a slave?” asked Erin.
“We were in Roman times,” said Wragg. “Hardly good cover to have her running around saying she’s a…”
“Don’t say it here,” said Erin quickly.
“Right,” said Wragg.
“Erin,” said Messaline, “we have fought together long ago. We have to get her away from the pursuers.”
“Lord Wragg is not one of us,” said Erin, “and he has never been reliable.”
“It’s only a matter of time before the hunters catch up,” said Windar. “They can be very patient, and time is not a problem for them either. It just makes them more annoyed.”
“Right,” said Wragg. “And if Eul falls into their clutches, this place won’t be safe. You have to trust me. Come on!” He went forward as if to take Barb’s arm.
Barb’s knife went back up and pointed at Wragg who stopped with the blade pointed an inch from his throat. “Just hold it!” said Barb. “Erin said, ‘don’t trust Wragg and Windar’! I knew you were up to something.”
“She seems to have recovered somewhat from the crucifixion at least,” said Windar. “Look, Eulalia sent us here. She wants you kept safe.”
“Why am I not safe here. Erin says it’s an enchanted cottage.”
“Oh, it is,” said Wragg. “You can only find it if you have this.” He held up the silver key.
“So?”
“There’s another key,” said Windar. “Eulalia has it.”
“Where is Eulalia?” asked Erin.
“Eulalia is off finding Jollyrei and Phlebas,” said Wragg. “She plans to find out why they’re chasing her. In the process, it is very likely that they will get the key. Then they come looking for you.”
“That sounds like a terrible plan,” said Barb.
“Yes,” said Wragg, “but if you come with us, you won’t be here for them to find.”
“Why can’t you just find and kill Jollyrei and Phlebas?” asked Barb.
“Because, you can’t,” said Messaline. “We’ve all tried that at some point. I think maybe only you can do it.”
“I keep telling you I don’t know about any of this,” said Barb. “All I know is that I want to be left alone, I don’t trust Wragg and Windows here…”
“Windar,” said Messaline.
“Thank you,” said Windar.
“Whoever,” said Barb, “and people can stop trying to kill me, rescue me, kidnap me, or tell me who I am.”
“Fine,” said Wragg. “But for the moment, I think you’re stuck with us, and we need to get you to the Abbey where you’ll be safe for a bit.”
“How long?” asked Barb.
“Not long, I’m afraid,” said Windar.
“But we will all be together,” said Messaline going to Barb and taking the knife. “And we will get to know each other, and we will find your memory, and then we will fight together. This is better than waiting in this cottage, yes?”
“I think we have to trust them,” said Erin reluctantly.
“A minute ago it was don’t trust them,” said Barb. “Now we trust them. I just want to know what this is all about, and can someone get me a dress?”
“Good,” said Messaline. “Let’s pack up anything you want to take with us.”
* * *
Phlebas moved very fast. One second he was sitting at the table holding a tea cup. He was also, in that same second, standing in front of Eulalia holding the key she had just dropped. The intervening distance was about ten yards.
“You appear to have lost your bargaining position,” said Jollyrei.
“Are we finished negotiating, Mr. Jollyrei?” asked Phlebas.
“I think we must enter a new phase of talks, Mr. Phlebas,” said Jollyrei. “I will ask the questions, and you will provide the incentive to answer.”
“Playing to our strengths then, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas. “I’m good with incentives,” he added to Eulalia.
“I was worried about that,” said Eulalia.
Jollyrei took the key from Phlebas and admired it. “It is indeed one of the old keys, Mr. Phlebas,” he said. “It may not be much to look at, but to the discerning connoisseur of historical artifacts, it is quite distinctive.”
“Never was much good at history, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas, fashioning an X-shaped St. Andrew’s cross out of two large fallen timbers. “Except the parts that included breaking things, like old cities, buildings…and people.”
“We all remember those parts that are most salient to us, Mr. Phlebas,” said Jollyrei.
All this time, Eulalia had been edging toward the stairs. As the two men appeared to be distracted with their musings and tasks, she thought it best to be elsewhere. She turned quickly to dart up the stairs.
She ran directly into Phlebas. “Don’t leave yet,” he said, taking her arm with one hand and tearing her bodice with his other hand. Her skirt followed, and she found herself quite naked and being dragged across the room to the cross.
“Look,” said Eulalia. “You have what you want. Just let me go.”
Phlebas lifted her up off the floor and held her arms in place and Jollyrei tied her wrists to the upper parts of the X. Then her legs were spread and her ankles were bound to the lower arms of the X. She hung, naked and panting, spread-eagled on the cross.
“My dear,” said Jollyrei, “you are the one who escalated the negotiations so quickly to a sort of ultimatum. We are only moving to the next logical step. We have had to suffer some duress in achieving our goal, and that comes at a cost. Is that not so, Mr. Phlebas?”
“If you mean, we get to torture her now, then right you are, Mr. Jollyrei.”
“You see,” said Jollyrei, “there are a few other details I’m sure we can use to our benefit, and which would also please our employer.”
“What if you just ask me the questions and I’ll answer them?” asked Eulalia.
“Where’s the fun in that?” asked Phlebas. He went over to the fireplace over which he had cooked the tea and put a poker in the coals. Then he returned to the cross and took out one of the thin stilettos. Eulalia glared at him from her hanging position, but trembled nonetheless.
“Now,” said Jollyrei congenially, “we just have a few little questions to ask. I must say,” said Jollyrei, “you have a lovely body, most artistically displayed. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Phlebas?”
“It will be a pleasure to find out what it can do, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas.
to be continued...
Windar walked out of the Roman storefront that he and Wragg had built over the past 5 years. A good gig, he thought. Nothing too strenuous. Most of it was the odd judicial flogging, but the mainstay of their business had been catering to the fancies of the bored women of the aristocracy, whose husbands were either older bureaucrats or senior military officers, all of whom seemed to have mistresses and young slave girls, leaving their wives to run estates. They started out, Windar thought, by watching slaves gyrating at the whipping post as they were punished for some minor offense, and graduated to wondering what that might be like if they got whipped themselves. Windar and Wragg prided themselves on administering exactly the right amount of pain to produce the best possible erotic response, and they got to interact with rather a lot of attractive naked women in the process, all very discretely. Discretion had been another of their inventions. No Tribune of Rome was ever going to find out from them that his wife had a fancy for the whip, and sometimes for the man wielding it.
Yes, he was going to be sad to see that go. All good things come to an end, he reflected. He turned down the street…
…which became a Victorian laneway in a forested part of England, an obscure parish known as Little Brampton, at the heart of which was the village of Cruxton. Even Parliament didn’t pay it much attention, which was convenient. Wragg was technically the Lord of the Manor, having “inherited” the Abbey and the surrounding lands from the old Abbot, who had been deposed under Henry VIII. An oath of fealty had kept Henry’s troops from looting the Abbey, and after that, it was the first Lord Wragg’s pleasure that the king would conveniently forget about Little Brampton altogether.
Windar walked up the drive to the Abbey, wondering what year it actually was, and whether he had to remember the code for the keypad or use his rather large rusting iron key to open the door. He was roused out of this reverie by a speeding dark red roadster, being driven by a blonde woman. It nearly bowled him over. The woman let out an expletive in French, and jammed on the brakes. The sleek automobile skidded to a stop in a cloud of gravel dust.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Windar,” said the woman, jumping out to see that he was okay. Windar dusted off his black tailcoat. “But you will get yourself killed walking in the middle of these narrow English roads. Can you not get them paved?”
“Good morning, Mademoiselle Messaline,” said Windar. “I can assure you that I am quite without injury. I see you have arrived before his lordship and me.”
“There is some trouble, yes?” said Messaline. “You will need an amazon with my skills.”
“Yes,” said Windar. “We might indeed.” He speculated that Jollyrei and Phlebas had never yet bothered anyone in the Abbey, but that might not last forever. “We have to get ready to host his lordship and Barb Moore,” he added. “Barb is in some trouble, and she doesn’t remember…well…anything really. We will need to defend her, until such time as she gets her memory back. Above all, we have to stop her falling into the wrong hands.”
“And whose hands are wrong?” asked Messaline.
“Jollyrei and Phlebas,” said Windar.
“Merde,” said Messaline. “So, as you English say, we have work to do.”
“Are we the only ones who say that?” asked Windar. “Anyway, I’m American.”
“Then we will have to be pragmatic,” said Messaline. “Come on.”
* * *
Wragg left the shop, with a sign chalked in Latin expressing regret that the shop was closed due to a family illness. He knew Windar would get the Abbey ready, and he also knew that Messaline would arrive to help. Fortunately, Jollyrei and Phlebas were easily distracted by someone like Eulalia, and would be quite intrigued by her walking into their lair. That would keep them busy for a while – at least as long as Eul could stay alive. He checked the box she had given him. It still looked like a box, quite dormant. That was a good sign. Hopefully Eul could find out what this was all about as well. Beyond Barb being, well, special, he found her quite attractive. Very attractive, he had to admit.
The old Abbot would have liked having her in the cellars doing some sort of female novice penance. That was a while ago, he thought. Actually, it hadn’t happened yet, he reflected, since he was back in Roman times, and the Abbey dated to the Saxons in England. That cheered him up. Something to look forward to.
He went around the back of the shop where there was a horse. It looked rather gray and dowdy. Wragg rummaged around in a box in the back shed and came out with a shining polished leather saddle. The horse looked at him a bit skeptically as he pulled the ratty blanket off the horse’s back, and put the saddle on. Then he got out a similar bridle, with shining steel bit and fittings. He wondered if the Romans had steel yet. The horse still looked a bit less than enthusiastic, but took the bit with an air of resignation. Wragg stepped back to look at the horse. In the five years he had endured a number of jokes at his expense on the apparent age, lack of breeding, and apparent poor health of his mount, who had wandered slowly over the countryside or through the garrison town. Nobody had ever offered even a single sestertius for it. Wragg sighed at the thought and mounted. Well, good riddance to them, he thought.
The townsfolk might have been surprised to see the horse walk smartly out of the yard and break almost immediately into a blazing gallop. Appearances, Wragg reflected, could be so misleading.
* * *
“I do hope you enjoyed your tea,” said Jollyrei. “Mr. Phlebas does pride himself.”
“Blend of Indian and African black teas,” said Phlebas. “Another biscuit?” He offered Eulalia a digestive out of a tin that actually said McVities on it. She hadn’t seen a tin like that in years – digestives came in cellophane wrap now, or would come in cellophane later than now. Somehow these biscuits were here now. At least, she thought, it would be centuries before they were past their “best by” date. She took a biscuit.
“It’s lovely tea,” she said truthfully. Phlebas smiled at her. It was a show of genuine pleasure that did not diminish at all her sense of imminent danger. He could be quite friendly as he was sticking a knife in your ribs, she thought.
“Not many people around here appreciate these little things,” said Phlebas.
“So true, Mr. Phlebas,” said Jollyrei. “A very astute observation as always. And,” he turned to Eulalia again, “we are also quite intrigued by your arrival here in our humble, and hopefully temporary, dwellings. We ask ourselves, how you came to know of it, and more importantly…”
“…what do you want?” said Phlebas, still friendly, but somewhat menacing. Mind you, Phlebas could be menacing just by being in a room, Eulalia thought.
“Well,” she said, “shall we get right down to brass tacks?”
“A fine metaphor,” said Jollyrei. “Let us do as you suggest, at least for starters.”
“I have someone you are looking for, I think,” said Eulalia, “but in return, I want to know why you are hunting her, and who your employer is.”
“Fair exchange, so to speak,” said Jollyrei. “Could we not simply try to extract the information from you.”
“Get down to brass knuckles, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas.
“A rather crude turn of phrase, Mr. Phlebas,” said Jollyrei, “but apt.”
“But you are reputed to be sporting gentlemen,” said Eulalia. “I have this key.” She held up a silver key on a black metal chain.”
“And?” asked Phlebas.
“If you tell me what I want to know, and let me leave in peace,” she said, as Phlebas grimaced at the disagreeable suggestion, “I will leave the key on the table for you.”
“What’s the key open?” asked Phlebas.
“It will take you through a portal to my cottage, where Barb is now,” Eulalia said.
“And if we don’t agree to these terms?” asked Jollyrei, contemplating a biscuit, which he popped into his mouth with obvious relish.
Eulalia stood up and walked across the room, watched intently and warily by the two men at the table. She stopped by a round wall surrounding a dark hole.
“Then, I will drop it down this well,” said Eulalia. She held key over the dark opening to the well. “You’ll have a hard time finding her then.”
“Let us not be hasty,” said Jollyrei. “How do we know she’s at your cottage?”
“You would have to take my word.”
“We don’t let people go,” said Phlebas menacingly, standing up.
“No,” said Jollyrei, “and I think you’re bluffing.”
“Very well,” said Eulalia. She dropped the key.
* * *
Wragg arrived at the cottage and checked the small box from Eulalia again. It was still just a box. It wasn’t doing anything except being a box. He hated it. He stuffed it back into his tunic, and pulled out a silver key. He smiled. If you didn’t have the key, the clearing would not contain a cottage. That was elvish craft for you.
Windar and Messaline emerged from the back garden through a small gate. “You made it,” said Windar.
“Yes, no trouble,” said Wragg, “thanks to Rory here.” He pointed at his horse which was now looking bored and nibbling the odd fresh shoot of grass. “Good to see Miss Messaline as well,” he added.
“You never told me Windar is Americain,” said Messaline.
“He can’t help it,” said Wragg. “Born there or something.”
“But he has been at the Abbey since before there was an America,” said Messaline.
“Complicated stuff, time,” said Wragg. “Anyway, everyone has to be born sometime, and somewhere. They might not stay there.”
“Or then,” said Windar. “Let’s go in.”
They found Barb and Erin in the kitchen. Erin was in green hose and an embroidered tunic that showed off her elvish figure. Barb was still mostly naked, although she had tied a towel around her waist. Most of the cottage appeared to be a large kitchen. She grabbed a butcher knife as the three entered. Erin drew her sword and glared at Wragg.
“You!” Erin spat. “Look what a mess you’ve caused!”
“Look,” said Wragg, “I know it looks bad, but I did what I thought was best.”
“Who are these people?” asked Barb.
“That one,” said Erin, pointing at Wragg, “is Lord Wragg. He’s devious, conniving, and probably lecherous. Don’t trust him.”
“This is the thanks I get for warning you?” asked Wragg.
“He had me whipped!” exclaimed Barb. “I didn’t recognize him in those strange clothes, but it was him, or a Roman who looked just like him!”
“You…” growled Erin stepping toward Wragg with her sword rising.
“It was necessary,” said Wragg. “We had to gain time. We had to stage a real Roman crucifixion, or those two would have simply killed her when they found her. As it was, you barely got there in time.”
“Huh,” said Erin, as if not convinced, but she lowered the sword. “What are you doing here now? Where’s Eulalia?”
“We have to get Barb out of here,” said Wragg. “There’s no time to waste. You have to trust me.” He stepped toward Barb.
“Stand back,” she said. “I know how to use this.”
“For carving a roast, for example?” asked Windar mildly.
“No,” said Barb. “Well, yes, actually, but also for carving unwanted attackers.”
“We are not attackers,” said Messaline. “We are rescuers.”
“Why is everyone rescuing me?” asked Barb. “I’ve been whipped, crucified and I don’t even have any clothes. It’s nice of you all to have brought me here, but I’m not leaving until someone tells me what’s going on…” She glared at Wragg. “…and finds me a dress or something,” she added.
“Yes, we have to get your memory back,” said Messaline. “You are...”
Wragg coughed.
“You are more than a slave,” said Messaline.
“Who are you?” asked Barb.
“I am Messaline, an amazon warrior,” said Messaline. “I am usually in France. I fight with you.”
“I don’t know if I fight,” said Barb. “I’m a slave, well, was a slave.”
“She still thinks she’s a slave?” asked Erin.
“We were in Roman times,” said Wragg. “Hardly good cover to have her running around saying she’s a…”
“Don’t say it here,” said Erin quickly.
“Right,” said Wragg.
“Erin,” said Messaline, “we have fought together long ago. We have to get her away from the pursuers.”
“Lord Wragg is not one of us,” said Erin, “and he has never been reliable.”
“It’s only a matter of time before the hunters catch up,” said Windar. “They can be very patient, and time is not a problem for them either. It just makes them more annoyed.”
“Right,” said Wragg. “And if Eul falls into their clutches, this place won’t be safe. You have to trust me. Come on!” He went forward as if to take Barb’s arm.
Barb’s knife went back up and pointed at Wragg who stopped with the blade pointed an inch from his throat. “Just hold it!” said Barb. “Erin said, ‘don’t trust Wragg and Windar’! I knew you were up to something.”
“She seems to have recovered somewhat from the crucifixion at least,” said Windar. “Look, Eulalia sent us here. She wants you kept safe.”
“Why am I not safe here. Erin says it’s an enchanted cottage.”
“Oh, it is,” said Wragg. “You can only find it if you have this.” He held up the silver key.
“So?”
“There’s another key,” said Windar. “Eulalia has it.”
“Where is Eulalia?” asked Erin.
“Eulalia is off finding Jollyrei and Phlebas,” said Wragg. “She plans to find out why they’re chasing her. In the process, it is very likely that they will get the key. Then they come looking for you.”
“That sounds like a terrible plan,” said Barb.
“Yes,” said Wragg, “but if you come with us, you won’t be here for them to find.”
“Why can’t you just find and kill Jollyrei and Phlebas?” asked Barb.
“Because, you can’t,” said Messaline. “We’ve all tried that at some point. I think maybe only you can do it.”
“I keep telling you I don’t know about any of this,” said Barb. “All I know is that I want to be left alone, I don’t trust Wragg and Windows here…”
“Windar,” said Messaline.
“Thank you,” said Windar.
“Whoever,” said Barb, “and people can stop trying to kill me, rescue me, kidnap me, or tell me who I am.”
“Fine,” said Wragg. “But for the moment, I think you’re stuck with us, and we need to get you to the Abbey where you’ll be safe for a bit.”
“How long?” asked Barb.
“Not long, I’m afraid,” said Windar.
“But we will all be together,” said Messaline going to Barb and taking the knife. “And we will get to know each other, and we will find your memory, and then we will fight together. This is better than waiting in this cottage, yes?”
“I think we have to trust them,” said Erin reluctantly.
“A minute ago it was don’t trust them,” said Barb. “Now we trust them. I just want to know what this is all about, and can someone get me a dress?”
“Good,” said Messaline. “Let’s pack up anything you want to take with us.”
* * *
Phlebas moved very fast. One second he was sitting at the table holding a tea cup. He was also, in that same second, standing in front of Eulalia holding the key she had just dropped. The intervening distance was about ten yards.
“You appear to have lost your bargaining position,” said Jollyrei.
“Are we finished negotiating, Mr. Jollyrei?” asked Phlebas.
“I think we must enter a new phase of talks, Mr. Phlebas,” said Jollyrei. “I will ask the questions, and you will provide the incentive to answer.”
“Playing to our strengths then, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas. “I’m good with incentives,” he added to Eulalia.
“I was worried about that,” said Eulalia.
Jollyrei took the key from Phlebas and admired it. “It is indeed one of the old keys, Mr. Phlebas,” he said. “It may not be much to look at, but to the discerning connoisseur of historical artifacts, it is quite distinctive.”
“Never was much good at history, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas, fashioning an X-shaped St. Andrew’s cross out of two large fallen timbers. “Except the parts that included breaking things, like old cities, buildings…and people.”
“We all remember those parts that are most salient to us, Mr. Phlebas,” said Jollyrei.
All this time, Eulalia had been edging toward the stairs. As the two men appeared to be distracted with their musings and tasks, she thought it best to be elsewhere. She turned quickly to dart up the stairs.
She ran directly into Phlebas. “Don’t leave yet,” he said, taking her arm with one hand and tearing her bodice with his other hand. Her skirt followed, and she found herself quite naked and being dragged across the room to the cross.
“Look,” said Eulalia. “You have what you want. Just let me go.”
Phlebas lifted her up off the floor and held her arms in place and Jollyrei tied her wrists to the upper parts of the X. Then her legs were spread and her ankles were bound to the lower arms of the X. She hung, naked and panting, spread-eagled on the cross.
“My dear,” said Jollyrei, “you are the one who escalated the negotiations so quickly to a sort of ultimatum. We are only moving to the next logical step. We have had to suffer some duress in achieving our goal, and that comes at a cost. Is that not so, Mr. Phlebas?”
“If you mean, we get to torture her now, then right you are, Mr. Jollyrei.”
“You see,” said Jollyrei, “there are a few other details I’m sure we can use to our benefit, and which would also please our employer.”
“What if you just ask me the questions and I’ll answer them?” asked Eulalia.
“Where’s the fun in that?” asked Phlebas. He went over to the fireplace over which he had cooked the tea and put a poker in the coals. Then he returned to the cross and took out one of the thin stilettos. Eulalia glared at him from her hanging position, but trembled nonetheless.
“Now,” said Jollyrei congenially, “we just have a few little questions to ask. I must say,” said Jollyrei, “you have a lovely body, most artistically displayed. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Phlebas?”
“It will be a pleasure to find out what it can do, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas.
to be continued...
That’s just a polite way of saying Wragg lusts after my tight little and knockers ...
That’s my Midwestern modesty at work ...
Erin always has my back ...
I knew it was him by his beer breath ...
I do complain an awful lot, don’t I?
Windows?????
How did I miss the revival of this thread! I love the story, it's the sort of thing I would read off this site (rather like Wragg's Wodehouse homage).
I'm very curious to see where it goes, timetravel, alternate worlds . . . .
Jollyrei and Phlebas were easily distracted by someone like Eulalia
Too true, I'm afraid.
“I do hope you enjoyed your tea,” said Jollyrei. “Mr. Phlebas does pride himself.”
Quite funny, I actively dislike tea!
“Never was much good at history, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas
With this and the physical menace I'm playing against type here!
Mr Jollyrei, can I have some fun now? She does look very ready to me. I want to see what her body can do. I want to hear her sing
I'm very curious to see where it goes, timetravel, alternate worlds . . . .
Jollyrei and Phlebas were easily distracted by someone like Eulalia
Too true, I'm afraid.
“I do hope you enjoyed your tea,” said Jollyrei. “Mr. Phlebas does pride himself.”
Quite funny, I actively dislike tea!
“Never was much good at history, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas
With this and the physical menace I'm playing against type here!
Mr Jollyrei, can I have some fun now? She does look very ready to me. I want to see what her body can do. I want to hear her sing
Yes, well, I'm not a terribly nasty person IRL either. Let's stretch our personae a bit, eh? And yes, you can get on with things as soon as I figure out the next bit. If you like, I'll never make you drink tea again.
More than welcome, old boy.and now I'm late for work, cheers Jollyrei!
You're not playing against type too, are you?That’s my Midwestern modesty at work ...
windar
Teller of Tales
Windows?????
You're a riot Moore...
Remember, I'm there to rescue you (AGAIN) or so they tell me. Who knows though?
P
Piper Marie
Guest
Hey, I'm liking this! Nice work so far!
Afternoon tea, followed by a stimulating session on St. Andrew's cross -
you know the the way to a Scottish girl's heart!
you know the the way to a Scottish girl's heart!
P
Piper Marie
Guest
Afternoon tea, followed by a stimulating session on St. Andrew's cross -
View attachment 578394
you know the the way to a Scottish girl's heart!
Mind if I join you? I love tea and St. Andrews!
Old Firm – Section 4
“I think this will work,” said Messaline, handing Barb a dress. It was a blue floral print peasant’s dress that tied at the waist. “It seems about your size.”
“I think Eulalia and I are roughly the same height,” said Barb, pulling the dress on over her head. There didn’t seem to be a zip or buttons that would allow her to step into it. She tied the waist and was at least not completely naked. That was an improvement considering Wragg and Windar who were standing in the cottage looking very pointedly as if they were concentrating on the ceiling beams, the flooring, the plaster work of the walls – indeed anything except the naked woman pulling the dress on. Wragg was especially obvious about not looking at Barb’s bottom. She noticed him glancing away from it, every time she looked his way. Both men seemed a bit crestfallen when the dress was finally in place.
“Are you ready to go, my Lady?” asked Erin.
“Please don’t call me that,” said Barb. “I don’t even know what’s going on. Until I do, just call me Barb. Yes, I’m ready to go. Where are we going?”
“To the back garden,” said Wragg.
“The back garden?” asked Barb skeptically.
“There’s a portal there,” said Windar. “We go through to the Abbey.”
“And then we’ll be safe?” asked Barb.
“For the time being,” said Wragg.
“Eulalia may be able to send the pursuers in another direction,” said Messaline hopefully.
“Can’t count on that,” said Windar. “Our best chance is to gain time to find Barb’s memory and whatever powers she has.”
“I have powers?” asked Barb. “I’m a slave.”
“You are a Queen!” said Erin. “Oh,” she added, “sorry. It just slipped out.”
“I’m a queen?”
“It’s complicated,” said Wragg. “Anyway, you’re our best hope to stop Jollyrei and Phlebas, and whoever is driving them. “
“Why don’t you just let them kill me?” asked Barb. “Wouldn’t that solve all your problems?”
“I considered it,” said Wragg, “but Erin and Eulalia firmly believe that would be bad.”
“Bad?” asked Barb.
“There is more to this than just you,” said Messaline. “Many other people would suffer if they win.”
“Anyway,” said Erin, “I have vowed to protect you, and now so has Lord Wragg.”
“I have made far too many vows lately,” grumbled Wragg. “Come on, let’s go.”
He led the way out of the back door of the thatched cottage, into the sunlit garden. Eulalia was clearly in favour of wildflowers, and the odd thistle. The garden was colourful, if a little unkempt. Perhaps, thought Windar, she simply wasn’t a very good or dedicated gardener. The stone path was clear, however, and led through the thickets of flowers to an old swing, hanging from a tree branch. Wragg pushed the swing hard.
Rory the horse wandered through the garden toward the swing, apparently unaffected by the thistles that Barb was trying to pull from her dress. The horse passed between the swinging seat and the trunk of the tree and vanished.
“Hey!” yelled Barb. “What...”
“The portal,” said Messaline. “It is open. We go through now.” She grabbed Barb’s hand and pulled her past the tree, exactly where Rory the horse was a moment before.
They were standing in a fountain, in front of a stone church-like structure. It was evening. There was also a horse in the fountain - Rory. Shortly there was another horse, an Elf-girl, Wragg, and Windar.
“I told you this was a stupid place to put the portal,” said Windar to Wragg. “We couldn’t have put it somewhere dry?”
“It’s not somewhere people look for it,” said Wragg, a little unconvincingly. “Very cloak and dagger.” He tapped his nose, the international sign of being clever. Water dripped from it.
“Can we get out?” asked Barb, her dress clinging attractively to her figure. Messaline’s amazon attire was unaffected – it was made to cling to her figure wet or dry for better mobility.
“It is a little bit wet,” said Messaline. She waded over to the edge of the fountain and climbed over the side onto the flagstones at the front of the Abbey. She helped Barb out.
“If you don’t mind,” she said, “I will take Barb inside and get her out of these wet things and warm her up.” She winked at Barb in a way that suggested she had a few ideas about how the warming up might be accomplished. Barb looked surprised, but didn’t resist as Messaline took her hand and the two disappeared into the large front door of the building.
“She didn’t waste any time,” said Windar.
“I think I’ll just go keep an eye on things and, er, help…Messaline…and Barb,” said Erin. “Look after my charger.” She gave the reins to Windar, and tried to look like she wasn’t running to the house.
“Did she look a bit flushed there?” asked Windar.
“She’s an Elf. I’m never sure what to make of her,” said Wragg. “The cold fountain didn’t seem to affect Messaline’s ardour.”
“Hmmm,” said Windar. “How much time do we have before trouble arrives.”
“No idea,” said Wragg. “Depends on how long Eul holds out.” He pulled the ornate small box out of his now soaked jacket pocket. It remained very box-like and dormant. “She’s okay for now, I think,” he said.
“Do you suppose we could get out of this fountain now?” asked Windar.
“It must be a metaphor of some sort,” said Wragg reflectively. “We go to interesting places with beautiful women, but we end up standing in a fountain looking after the horses.”
Rory shook his mane, spraying both Wragg and Windar with more water.
“Not quite how I imagined this homecoming, that’s for sure,” said Windar.
* * *
“I think we’re ready now,” said Jollyrei to the naked Eulalia, stretched in front of him attractively on her X-shaped cross. “So, my dear Miss Eulalia, I shall just run over the rules once and we can get started.”
“Rules are important, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas.
“Indeed, Mr. Phlebas,” said Jollyrei. “Where would we be without them?”
“Probably stuck on a cross, like her,” said Phlebas.
Eulalia glared at them. “Get on with it,” she growled.
“The way this works,” said Jollyrei congenially, “is that I shall ask a question. At that point, Mr. Phlebas will provide some encouragement…”
Phlebas produced a red hot needle from the firepit, and touched it lightly to the inside of Eulalia’s thigh, just an inch below her labia. There was a small sizzling sound. Eulalia gasped at the unexpected searing pain.
“…to encourage an appropriate response…” said Jollyrei.
“I think she responded quite appropriately, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas.
“…to the question,” said Jollyrei, looking pointedly at Phlebas. Eulalia knew she was terrified. She was trying to mask her terror, but she suspected that would have no effect on these two. They didn’t appear capable of sympathy.
“If we are not satisfied with the answer,” said Jollyrei, looking again at Eulalia and moving to stand directly in front of her, “Mr. Phlebas will…,” his face came very close to hers and he looked directly into her eyes. His hand moved up from her hip, gently gliding up her torso and finally cupping her left breast, fitting it into her hand. It was a caress, which foretold more pain to come. It was almost torture in itself. “Mr. Phlebas will provide additional incentive,” said Jollyrei. His fingernails, long and sharp, cut into the skin above her breast, as if for emphasis.
He stepped back, surveying the young woman hanging in front of him. A small drop of blood formed where his nail had broken the skin. He leaned in and licked it off her chest. Then he smiled at her in an almost friendly manner.
“I think we can begin,” he said. “Question 1 in Miss Eulalia’s Final Examination.”
“Quite final, I would think, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas.
“As you say, Mr. Phlebas. Question 1: How long have you been in contact with the Lady Barb Moore?”
Phlebas pressed the red hot needle to her thigh again, this time a little closer to her labia. Eulalia gasped and winced again. Her body tensed and jumped slightly, but could not escape or move much, bound as she was to the cross, her legs spread open and her body exposed.
“I didn’t know she was a Lady,” said Eulalia. “I thought she was an escaped slave.” So, she thought, they know she’s someone special. What else will they let slip?
“We are not fools, Miss Eulalia,” said Jollyrei. Phlebas took the needle and raked it down Eulalia’s left side from the armpit to the hip, leaving a thin red gash. She cried out as the sensitive skin tore.”
“We believe there is a better answer. Perhaps you might tell us how our friend Wragg knew to contact you.”
“Wragg who?” she asked. If they know about Wragg, then they can connect us all, she thought with alarm.
Phlebas produced a large square nail, and jammed it hard into her right wrist. She screamed in surprise and agony as the iron drove between her wrist bones and into the wood of the cross. He lifted a hammer and drove the nail into the cross. Eulalia cried and panted in pain.
“I’m waiting for an answer,” said Jollyrei, flicking a bit of dust off his jacket. Or would you prefer more pain?”
“Lovely, exquisite pain,” said Phlebas.
“I don’t know how he knew?” she cried. “I got a message from him.”
“And he told you to summon that infernal Elvish warrior wench?” asked Jollyrei.
There was no point in denying it. Nevertheless, Phlebas produced a stiletto and cut a thin line down her left arm from the elbow to the armpit. She sobbed.
“I knew Erin could rescue her,” said Eulalia. “We need Barb alive,” said Eulalia. She wondered if that was enough bait to get them to tell her what their interest was.
“I suppose you do,” said Jollyrei, “all things considered. However, her continued existence is of considerable annoyance to our employer. As a slave, she was so nicely pliable. Even Wragg didn’t seem to suspect she was anybody. We miscalculated there, eh, Mr. Phlebas?”
“Everyone makes mistakes, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas.
“Kind of you to be so understanding,” said Jollyrei. “At the very least, it is a caution against complacency.”
“Why does your employer want her dead?” gasped Eulalia.
“We are asking the questions,” said Jollyrei. “Did you not understand the rules?”
Phlebas drove a second spike through Eulalia’s left wrist. It happened so fast, she thought. One second, Jollyrei was talking in his calm, reasonable, and terrifying tone, and the next split second there was a nail through her wrist, accurately placed, shooting bolts of white pain down her arm. She arched and screamed, momentarily blinded by the shock. She sagged down.
“I suspect she remembers the rules now, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas.
“Perhaps we are moving along rather too quickly for her, Mr. Phlebas,” said Jollyrei. “We do, after all, still have a few questions, and we only have four nails.”
“She only has four limbs, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas.
“A good point,” said Jollyrei, “but we may wish to save them for later. Perhaps a whip, or some other implement for the next question.”
“If you like,” said Phlebas agreeably. He took the now red poker out of the fire and looked at it appreciatively. He touched the red hot metal with his finger quizzically. Smoke rose from his finger, but he gave no other sign of discomfort. “Ready when you are, Mr. Jollyrei,” he said.
* * *
Several hundred miles and several hundred years away, Barb was being stripped of her wet dress by an Amazon and an Elvish warrior. A large clawfoot bathtub was being filled with hot water by a chambermaid, while another maid laid a pile of very soft looking and large white towels out on a dark oak cabinet beside the tub.
“Look,” said Barb, “I appreciate all this, really, but I think I can bathe myself and, oh!...”
Messaline’s finger traced over one of Barb’s tumescent nipples. The blonde amazon smiled at her. “And can you do other things for yourself as well?” asked Messaline, “or maybe you would be happier if you could have some help.”
Barb realized that Erin was massaging her lower back, pressing down to caress the small of her back as well.
“Um,” she said, letting Erin help her into the bath while Messaline produced a soft cloth.
to be continued...
“I think this will work,” said Messaline, handing Barb a dress. It was a blue floral print peasant’s dress that tied at the waist. “It seems about your size.”
“I think Eulalia and I are roughly the same height,” said Barb, pulling the dress on over her head. There didn’t seem to be a zip or buttons that would allow her to step into it. She tied the waist and was at least not completely naked. That was an improvement considering Wragg and Windar who were standing in the cottage looking very pointedly as if they were concentrating on the ceiling beams, the flooring, the plaster work of the walls – indeed anything except the naked woman pulling the dress on. Wragg was especially obvious about not looking at Barb’s bottom. She noticed him glancing away from it, every time she looked his way. Both men seemed a bit crestfallen when the dress was finally in place.
“Are you ready to go, my Lady?” asked Erin.
“Please don’t call me that,” said Barb. “I don’t even know what’s going on. Until I do, just call me Barb. Yes, I’m ready to go. Where are we going?”
“To the back garden,” said Wragg.
“The back garden?” asked Barb skeptically.
“There’s a portal there,” said Windar. “We go through to the Abbey.”
“And then we’ll be safe?” asked Barb.
“For the time being,” said Wragg.
“Eulalia may be able to send the pursuers in another direction,” said Messaline hopefully.
“Can’t count on that,” said Windar. “Our best chance is to gain time to find Barb’s memory and whatever powers she has.”
“I have powers?” asked Barb. “I’m a slave.”
“You are a Queen!” said Erin. “Oh,” she added, “sorry. It just slipped out.”
“I’m a queen?”
“It’s complicated,” said Wragg. “Anyway, you’re our best hope to stop Jollyrei and Phlebas, and whoever is driving them. “
“Why don’t you just let them kill me?” asked Barb. “Wouldn’t that solve all your problems?”
“I considered it,” said Wragg, “but Erin and Eulalia firmly believe that would be bad.”
“Bad?” asked Barb.
“There is more to this than just you,” said Messaline. “Many other people would suffer if they win.”
“Anyway,” said Erin, “I have vowed to protect you, and now so has Lord Wragg.”
“I have made far too many vows lately,” grumbled Wragg. “Come on, let’s go.”
He led the way out of the back door of the thatched cottage, into the sunlit garden. Eulalia was clearly in favour of wildflowers, and the odd thistle. The garden was colourful, if a little unkempt. Perhaps, thought Windar, she simply wasn’t a very good or dedicated gardener. The stone path was clear, however, and led through the thickets of flowers to an old swing, hanging from a tree branch. Wragg pushed the swing hard.
Rory the horse wandered through the garden toward the swing, apparently unaffected by the thistles that Barb was trying to pull from her dress. The horse passed between the swinging seat and the trunk of the tree and vanished.
“Hey!” yelled Barb. “What...”
“The portal,” said Messaline. “It is open. We go through now.” She grabbed Barb’s hand and pulled her past the tree, exactly where Rory the horse was a moment before.
They were standing in a fountain, in front of a stone church-like structure. It was evening. There was also a horse in the fountain - Rory. Shortly there was another horse, an Elf-girl, Wragg, and Windar.
“I told you this was a stupid place to put the portal,” said Windar to Wragg. “We couldn’t have put it somewhere dry?”
“It’s not somewhere people look for it,” said Wragg, a little unconvincingly. “Very cloak and dagger.” He tapped his nose, the international sign of being clever. Water dripped from it.
“Can we get out?” asked Barb, her dress clinging attractively to her figure. Messaline’s amazon attire was unaffected – it was made to cling to her figure wet or dry for better mobility.
“It is a little bit wet,” said Messaline. She waded over to the edge of the fountain and climbed over the side onto the flagstones at the front of the Abbey. She helped Barb out.
“If you don’t mind,” she said, “I will take Barb inside and get her out of these wet things and warm her up.” She winked at Barb in a way that suggested she had a few ideas about how the warming up might be accomplished. Barb looked surprised, but didn’t resist as Messaline took her hand and the two disappeared into the large front door of the building.
“She didn’t waste any time,” said Windar.
“I think I’ll just go keep an eye on things and, er, help…Messaline…and Barb,” said Erin. “Look after my charger.” She gave the reins to Windar, and tried to look like she wasn’t running to the house.
“Did she look a bit flushed there?” asked Windar.
“She’s an Elf. I’m never sure what to make of her,” said Wragg. “The cold fountain didn’t seem to affect Messaline’s ardour.”
“Hmmm,” said Windar. “How much time do we have before trouble arrives.”
“No idea,” said Wragg. “Depends on how long Eul holds out.” He pulled the ornate small box out of his now soaked jacket pocket. It remained very box-like and dormant. “She’s okay for now, I think,” he said.
“Do you suppose we could get out of this fountain now?” asked Windar.
“It must be a metaphor of some sort,” said Wragg reflectively. “We go to interesting places with beautiful women, but we end up standing in a fountain looking after the horses.”
Rory shook his mane, spraying both Wragg and Windar with more water.
“Not quite how I imagined this homecoming, that’s for sure,” said Windar.
* * *
“I think we’re ready now,” said Jollyrei to the naked Eulalia, stretched in front of him attractively on her X-shaped cross. “So, my dear Miss Eulalia, I shall just run over the rules once and we can get started.”
“Rules are important, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas.
“Indeed, Mr. Phlebas,” said Jollyrei. “Where would we be without them?”
“Probably stuck on a cross, like her,” said Phlebas.
Eulalia glared at them. “Get on with it,” she growled.
“The way this works,” said Jollyrei congenially, “is that I shall ask a question. At that point, Mr. Phlebas will provide some encouragement…”
Phlebas produced a red hot needle from the firepit, and touched it lightly to the inside of Eulalia’s thigh, just an inch below her labia. There was a small sizzling sound. Eulalia gasped at the unexpected searing pain.
“…to encourage an appropriate response…” said Jollyrei.
“I think she responded quite appropriately, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas.
“…to the question,” said Jollyrei, looking pointedly at Phlebas. Eulalia knew she was terrified. She was trying to mask her terror, but she suspected that would have no effect on these two. They didn’t appear capable of sympathy.
“If we are not satisfied with the answer,” said Jollyrei, looking again at Eulalia and moving to stand directly in front of her, “Mr. Phlebas will…,” his face came very close to hers and he looked directly into her eyes. His hand moved up from her hip, gently gliding up her torso and finally cupping her left breast, fitting it into her hand. It was a caress, which foretold more pain to come. It was almost torture in itself. “Mr. Phlebas will provide additional incentive,” said Jollyrei. His fingernails, long and sharp, cut into the skin above her breast, as if for emphasis.
He stepped back, surveying the young woman hanging in front of him. A small drop of blood formed where his nail had broken the skin. He leaned in and licked it off her chest. Then he smiled at her in an almost friendly manner.
“I think we can begin,” he said. “Question 1 in Miss Eulalia’s Final Examination.”
“Quite final, I would think, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas.
“As you say, Mr. Phlebas. Question 1: How long have you been in contact with the Lady Barb Moore?”
Phlebas pressed the red hot needle to her thigh again, this time a little closer to her labia. Eulalia gasped and winced again. Her body tensed and jumped slightly, but could not escape or move much, bound as she was to the cross, her legs spread open and her body exposed.
“I didn’t know she was a Lady,” said Eulalia. “I thought she was an escaped slave.” So, she thought, they know she’s someone special. What else will they let slip?
“We are not fools, Miss Eulalia,” said Jollyrei. Phlebas took the needle and raked it down Eulalia’s left side from the armpit to the hip, leaving a thin red gash. She cried out as the sensitive skin tore.”
“We believe there is a better answer. Perhaps you might tell us how our friend Wragg knew to contact you.”
“Wragg who?” she asked. If they know about Wragg, then they can connect us all, she thought with alarm.
Phlebas produced a large square nail, and jammed it hard into her right wrist. She screamed in surprise and agony as the iron drove between her wrist bones and into the wood of the cross. He lifted a hammer and drove the nail into the cross. Eulalia cried and panted in pain.
“I’m waiting for an answer,” said Jollyrei, flicking a bit of dust off his jacket. Or would you prefer more pain?”
“Lovely, exquisite pain,” said Phlebas.
“I don’t know how he knew?” she cried. “I got a message from him.”
“And he told you to summon that infernal Elvish warrior wench?” asked Jollyrei.
There was no point in denying it. Nevertheless, Phlebas produced a stiletto and cut a thin line down her left arm from the elbow to the armpit. She sobbed.
“I knew Erin could rescue her,” said Eulalia. “We need Barb alive,” said Eulalia. She wondered if that was enough bait to get them to tell her what their interest was.
“I suppose you do,” said Jollyrei, “all things considered. However, her continued existence is of considerable annoyance to our employer. As a slave, she was so nicely pliable. Even Wragg didn’t seem to suspect she was anybody. We miscalculated there, eh, Mr. Phlebas?”
“Everyone makes mistakes, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas.
“Kind of you to be so understanding,” said Jollyrei. “At the very least, it is a caution against complacency.”
“Why does your employer want her dead?” gasped Eulalia.
“We are asking the questions,” said Jollyrei. “Did you not understand the rules?”
Phlebas drove a second spike through Eulalia’s left wrist. It happened so fast, she thought. One second, Jollyrei was talking in his calm, reasonable, and terrifying tone, and the next split second there was a nail through her wrist, accurately placed, shooting bolts of white pain down her arm. She arched and screamed, momentarily blinded by the shock. She sagged down.
“I suspect she remembers the rules now, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas.
“Perhaps we are moving along rather too quickly for her, Mr. Phlebas,” said Jollyrei. “We do, after all, still have a few questions, and we only have four nails.”
“She only has four limbs, Mr. Jollyrei,” said Phlebas.
“A good point,” said Jollyrei, “but we may wish to save them for later. Perhaps a whip, or some other implement for the next question.”
“If you like,” said Phlebas agreeably. He took the now red poker out of the fire and looked at it appreciatively. He touched the red hot metal with his finger quizzically. Smoke rose from his finger, but he gave no other sign of discomfort. “Ready when you are, Mr. Jollyrei,” he said.
* * *
Several hundred miles and several hundred years away, Barb was being stripped of her wet dress by an Amazon and an Elvish warrior. A large clawfoot bathtub was being filled with hot water by a chambermaid, while another maid laid a pile of very soft looking and large white towels out on a dark oak cabinet beside the tub.
“Look,” said Barb, “I appreciate all this, really, but I think I can bathe myself and, oh!...”
Messaline’s finger traced over one of Barb’s tumescent nipples. The blonde amazon smiled at her. “And can you do other things for yourself as well?” asked Messaline, “or maybe you would be happier if you could have some help.”
Barb realized that Erin was massaging her lower back, pressing down to caress the small of her back as well.
“Um,” she said, letting Erin help her into the bath while Messaline produced a soft cloth.
to be continued...
He knows better ... demerits will fly
Now what could Messa possibly have in mind?
Debatable point
GAHHHHHHHHHHHH
First steps, I set me a bookmark and create a new folder in my book-production folder.
windar
Teller of Tales
Could have fooled me...
Tempting offer...
I hope it's a big fountain
Look, she can be trouble sometimes, but every once in a while she does something endearing...
Fun chapter, Jolly
You've got me pretty well, Jolly -
but to some eyes my garden does look wild and unkempt... then so do I...
seriously (well, semi-seriously) what goes on in the Torture Chamber
is a rule-governed game, see my poem 'The Rules of the Game'
in Eulalia's Book in the Archive.
But I think your account of my reactions and responses under Torture
is very believable, I can imagine myself as you've portrayed me
Actually I think I am, I take care that my plants are happy, in their natural right places -
but to some eyes my garden does look wild and unkempt... then so do I...
Oh yes, I appreciate the importance of rules - I wouldn't be that impatient -
seriously (well, semi-seriously) what goes on in the Torture Chamber
is a rule-governed game, see my poem 'The Rules of the Game'
in Eulalia's Book in the Archive.
But I think your account of my reactions and responses under Torture
is very believable, I can imagine myself as you've portrayed me