by Ron Vitale
I pulled up a chair next to him and kept my voice low. “Charles’ mother just took him from the house. She’s going to care for him on her own and just dragged him away.”
He closed the book, and I did not expect to see a smile on his face. “I’m surprised that it took her this long to find out that he had returned. She has always been overprotective and did not want her husband or Charles to go off to war.” He held the book in his hand and adjusted the bandage on his head with his other hand. “But who could blame her? She’s a widow now, and her son is a cripple.”
“Stop that!” I punched him in the arm.
“Ow!” He rubbed his arm. “Why did you do that?”
Another occupant in the room turned toward Stephen and shot daggers at him with his eyes.
“You always focus on the negative these days. Charles is still alive. Is he not?”
Stephen reached for his cane, and then pulled himself up and out of his chair. He wobbled a bit and leaned on the cane, but he did not fall. “A man in his prime who has lost both his legs is crippled for life. Nothing will ever be the same for him. He does have his family’s money and that will buy him the care he will need, but he is a broken man.”
“I want you to tell me where his house is so that I can visit him tonight.” I followed him as he made his way out of the library. “I promised that I would visit him, and he agreed to my coming.”
A rare smile broke out on Stephen’s face. His demeanor had been reserved since his return from the war. “I can help you with that.” He walked a few more steps, and then turned to me. “I’ve never been fond of his mother anyway.”
I kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“Be ready at nine o’clock. She goes to bed early, and I’ll take you to his house.” He stopped and looked down at his cane. “Can you get a carriage for us? It’ll make things a lot easier for me.”
“Yes, don’t worry about it. One of the footmen owes me a favor. I didn’t tattle on him when he came back drunk and was late for work a few weeks ago. He’ll help me.” I waved, and then ran off to get caught up on my work before my house lord noticed and took me to task.
I don’t know why, but I glanced back and saw a bit of a twinkle in Stephen’s eye that reminded me of his old mischievous self, and that made me happy. He twirled his cane and tipped an imaginary hat at me, and then shambled out of the room.
The day flew by with work to do, and we were still taking shifts in helping the wounded. There were sheets to change and wash, and men to clean as well. The amount of stink and bodily fluids that I dealt with that day was beyond reckoning. The men, some barely old enough to shave, were in good spirits with the day being bright but cold. I expected that, as the weeks wore on the many who would still not be able to walk or hold a sword again would have deeper pains to deal with, and that the female servants smiling and paying them attention would not be of much help. But on this day, we tended to their wounds, put clean bandages on them, and, for those who could walk, we took them around the house, showing them the courtyard frozen with snow.
I crammed in my work as fast and as efficiently as I could, and the day quickly turned into night. We served dinner and afterward cleaned the plates, and a traveling musician treated us to some of his songs. He set up in a chair by the fire in the great hall and played a few songs on his lute. For his last song, he riled up the crowd and sang a summer festival song of hope and light. I had not heard the song in a few years, and it brought me back to the time that my mother was still alive and how she would twirl me and I would stop and watch her dress swirl around her, and then she would stop and it fell back in place.
We served the men their dessert and a hot drink, and many of the servants came and took turns volunteering sitting with the soldiers, asking if they needed anything for the rest of the night. Bed pans were changed, the fire was stoked and more logs put on, and I made my way out the back way, down the steps to the lower level of the house. I changed as quickly as I could and went out the back into the courtyard. The stars twinkled in the night sky and the cold nipped at my nose. On time, standing in his best dress, Stephen stood tall with a warm coat. He leaned on his cane and put his arm out to me. “Good evening, lady of the rags. You clean up nicely.”
I curtsied to him and took his arm. “Thank you, my lord. You look dashing this evening.”
“If only I could find someone who looks just as dashing as me this evening, I would be in heaven.” He winked at me, and I laughed. He stepped carefully through the courtyard, avoiding the icy patches and snow as best he could.
I pointed to a carriage out in the street. “Our carriage awaits.”
I helped Stephen climb into the carriage and followed after him. We sat across from each other, cold but feeling adventurous. Our driver poked his head in and asked, “Where to?”
Stephen handed him a slip of paper. “I’ve drawn a map for you. We’re going to the city’s lake district. When we get closer, I’ll direct you to the house.” He handed the driver a few pieces of silver and smiled.
The driver accepted the coin and slipped it into his pocket. “Thank you, sir. I’ll have you both there soon.”
We headed off through the night and the streets had some traffic with people returning from their engagements. Once we left the central part of the city, we crossed through the gates and headed out into the dark on the road. Our driver used the light of the moon to guide him, and he had a lit lantern hanging beside him in the driver’s seat. Stephen and I kept mostly quiet, warming ourselves in the blankets inside the carriage. I closed my eyes for a few moments and imagined that I was a great lady being brought back from the theater. But when I opened my eyes, the vision faded, and I could see Stephen looking lost in thought.
“Are you in pain?” I did not know how else to broach the topic.
He shook his head and pressed his face against the carriage’s window. “No, I’m wondering how we’re going to get inside to see him. We thought this all through, but didn’t get that far in the plan. We can’t just knock on the door and be asked to come in this late. They’ll wake his mother up, and we don’t want that.”
“I have a plan that should work.” I smiled at him like a devil.
“I’m curious. What do you have in mind?”
I opened my coat and showed him two bottles of whiskey that I had strapped to myself. “This should get us inside without any problems.” I closed my coat again to keep warm. “A little spirits and a bit of flirting, and we’ll be fine.”
“You little thief!” Stephen tapped my leg with a cane. “I should come on over there and eat you up like the little minx you are.”
I laughed and felt the carriage slowing. Our driver jumped from his seat and came to the door and opened it. “I’ve been here before and knew the way. When do you both expect to be back?” His thick northern accent sometimes made him difficult to understand.
I didn’t know what to say, but Stephen, always prepared, handed our driver two more silver coins. “We’ll be back by one. Wait for us in the house so you can stay warm and not freeze to death out here.”
He bowed his head and headed off to the servant’s quarters.
“Thomas, wait.” I called after him, and then climbed down to catch up to him. Taking a flask out of my coat pocket, I pressed it into his hand. “With the lateness of the hour, this will help you make friends and keep everyone quiet.”
“Thank you!” He accepted the flask and went to go, but I stopped him.
“Just don’t overdo it. We need you to drive us back and not get caught.”
“I might not be too bright, but I’m not the dullest tool in the shed.” He put the flask away and smiled at me, and I could see his brown teeth stained from his tobacco use. “I’ll have a bit but share around. I learned my lesson from last time. I’ll see you both at one.” He walked off and went down to the servant’s entrance.
Stephen and I, arm in arm, headed to the front gate, and I knocked on the door. A surprise
d older man opened up and asked, “Is there a problem this evening that you need help?”
I had not expected an older servant to be on watch this late, and thought more of the younger staff would be on duty. I doubted that the spirits would work.
Stephen lowered his voice and leaned close to the man. “We are here to surprise the young master of the house with a visit to help cheer him up from his return from the front.”
“But at this late hour, my mistress will not allow that.”
Stephen took his hat off. “Daniel, it’s me, Stephen.” He leaned into the lantern’s light so that Daniel could get a good look at him. “You know the mistress is in bed now and would best not be disturbed.”
Before Daniel could reply, Stephen reached into my coat and pulled out one of the bottles and offered it to him.
A wide smile broke out on his face, and he grabbed the bottle from Stephen. “Where did you get this?”
I chimed in and said, “It is for you for all the great service you have done for the mistress.” Stephen and I pushed passed him as he lusted over the large bottle in his hands. “We will head to the young master’s room and keep quiet and will be away a little after midnight. The bottle should be plenty to keep you and your friends occupied for the evening.”
He looked as though a dragon’s hoard had been given to him. The war had been difficult with all spirits being rationed or saved for medicinal purposes. My house lord would not be pleased to know that I had stolen the bottles. He had plenty more hidden in the wine cellar and would not even miss these two, but if he learned of my theft, he would turn me out of the house. But sometimes, risks had to be taken for the greater good.
Daniel let us in and could barely close the door with the large bottle in his hands. “Yes, thank you. I will see to this and head off for the night. Stephen, you know the way to the young master’s room.”
Stephen smiled and led the way, holding me by the arm. He walked as fast as he dared, using his cane as a guide to help balance him through the house. When we arrived at Charles’ room, Stephen knocked.
“Yes?” Charles’ voiced appeared annoyed. “What is it that you want? I’m busy.”
Stephen pushed the door open, and I followed close behind. I stopped and put my hand over my mouth and tried to stifle a laugh. Charles had his pants down and his hands down his undergarments. When he saw us, he blushed and pulled his hand out and tried to pull his pants back up.
“What are you both doing here?” He stumbled over the words, trying to recover and be as natural as possible.
Stephen laughed. “I do apologize for intruding on you when you were ‘Crowning the King,’ but we thought you might need some company this evening to cheer you up.”
I pulled a bottle out of my coat and handed it to Charles. “I promised we would come, and we thought we would celebrate your return now that you’ve healed up a bit.” I averted my eyes and just offered him the bottle.
He accepted and laughed. “Yes, yes, please come in. I could use some company.”
I turned away while Stephen helped Charles pull up his pants and focused on the fire in the room. “Would you like me to put another log on?”
Charles scooted up in bed and finished making himself more presentable. “Yes, thank you.” He pointed across the room. “Stephen, grab three cups over there. Let’s have a drink.”
I added a log to the fire and then bounded over to sit on Charles’ bed. Stephen brought three glasses over, and using his cane with care, put the glasses on the bed by Charles. The fire sent flickers of red and orange light across the room, and we all took on a ruddy complexion. I jumped back up to pull a chair over for Stephen, and he sat down and stretched out his legs. He put his cane down and pointed over to the bottle. “Will you do the honors?”
Charles read the label and asked me, “Where did you get this?”
“I have my ways.” I put my glass out to him. “I thought it worth celebrating tonight.”
“With a bottle of whiskey that’s thirty years old?” He opened the bottle. “What exactly are we celebrating?”
Stephen leaned in and offered his glass to him as well. “Many things. Surviving this damn war and coming together. Let us celebrate us. Each of us and to new friendship.”
Charles poured a good bit of whiskey into my glass and did the same to Stephen. “To us!”
I shook my head and held my glass out. “Where’s your glass? It’s bad luck for us to drink without you.”
He grabbed his glass, and I took the bottle from him and poured him an ample amount. He held up his glass, and I watched the flickering firelight play in the crystal patterns. “Thank you for coming tonight. I needed some company.” He looked to Stephen and then to me. “To old friends and to new.”
We each drank the whiskey down straight, and it burned its way down. I pounded his mattress and thought my throat on fire, feeling the spirits burn through me. Smooth yet strong, I closed my eyes and twisted my body, but refused to cough. With teary eyes, I threw my head back and made a goofy sound. “Wow, that was strong!”
Charles coughed once into his hand. “I think it just fixed anything inside me that had been broken.”
Stephen shook his head and pounded his left thigh. “Why didn’t we have some of this before each battle? That would have motivated us in new ways.” He put his empty glass down on the nightstand next to Charles’ bed. “Damn, that was good.”
I don’t know why, but a part of me awoke that night, playful and free. I glanced over to the door and asked, “How safe are we here tonight?”
“Do you mean if anyone will come in to bother us?” Charles asked.
“Yes.” I could already feel the effects of the whiskey.
“My mother sleeps on another level of the house and she’ll be asleep by now. No one will bother me until morning unless I ring the bell.” He put his glass down and set the bottle on the nightstand. “What are you thinking, my lady?”
He smiled at me, and I knew that, if I were to risk it, I could help him forget his trouble for the evening. We would be young and free, unfettered, and in the morning light we would be different people. But in the dark night of a frigid winter, we were two boys and a girl. “Let us play a game.”
Charles laughed. “Do you wish to play some cards and win to humiliate me?”
“No, that is not the game that I wish to play. This is a game of fun and skill.” I folded my legs up under me and faced both of them.
Stephen put down his glass, curious. “What is the name of this game that you wish to play?”
“Risk or honesty.” I pretended that I had another bit of whiskey and sipped a few drops from the bottom of my glass.
Stephen’s right eyebrow rose. “The children’s game?”
I gave my glass back to Charles. “We are not children here. But it is a game that will test us beyond our years and show our true courage.” I turned to Stephen. “Are you game?”
“Me? I’m always up for some fun.” He scooted his chair closer to the bed, and then handed the whiskey to Charles.
“I like the sound of this game. But I’ve not played it since I was a boy. Start off easy with us.” Charles poured me another bit of whiskey and passed me back my glass.
“Who would like to start?” I took a sip, and over my glass I watched both of them. Charles squirmed, a bit shy and reserved.
Stephen raised his hand. “I’ll go first.”
“Thank you.” I took a sip of whiskey and asked, “Risk or honesty?”
“Risk.” The word rushed out of him. “Let’s start this night out right.”
Charles clapped his hands together. “Risk on the first try, I’m impressed. I don’t think I would have had the courage to do that.” He glanced over to me. “What’s your risk for him?”
“Give me his tumbler.” Stephen leaned over and handed me his glass, and I poured half of my whiskey into it. “Here, take this.”
He accepted the tumbler back. “Now what?”
&nb
sp; “Balance it on your head and walk like you’re on a tightrope from here to the fireplace.” He frowned a bit, and I could see a flicker of shame cross his face.
“Can I use my cane?” he asked.
“No, you cannot!” I pointed across the room. “Come on, soldier, go!” I had seen him practice the exercises the doctor had given him, and this was one of them. He’d been trying to do this morning and night of each day, practicing and practicing.
He pushed himself up and out of the chair and stood straight. He glanced back at me and a flicker of fear crossed his face, but he stood tall and took a moment to balance the tumbler on his head.
Charles clapped his hands. “You can do it. Come on!”
Stephen took one step and placed it solidly on the ground and followed up like a man on a wire at a circus. He took his time with his arms out and made his way across the room toward the fire. Right before he reached the fireplace, his right leg nearly gave out, but he held strong and wavered a bit but kept his head straight. When he arrived at his destination, he took the glass off his head, and then shot the whiskey down his throat and turned back to us and bowed.
Charles and I applauded him as he limped back to his seat. I toasted him with my glass. “Fantastic! Now it is your turn.”
Stephen sat down and looked to his friend and asked, “Risk or honesty?”
Charles thought a moment and replied, “Honesty.”
I took another sip from my glass and then asked for more from Charles. He refilled all of our glasses, and Stephen waited before he asked, “Have you ever had amorous congress with a woman?”
I was in the process of swallowing some whiskey when Stephen asked his question and tried to laugh, but the whiskey came out my nose. I sprayed Charles’ bedspread with whiskey, and then started coughing. Charles and Stephen came to my aid, but I held them off. “What the hell is that?”
Stephen rolled his eyes. “My lady of the rags, I’m trying to be polite.”
“Are you asking if he ever fucked a girl?” I faced Stephen and stuck my tongue out at him.
