by Claire Cray
The sound of hoof steps ahead caught my attention, and for the first time, I found myself crossing paths with two travelers on horseback.
They were twin boys who looked around twelve years old. They were neater and better dressed than the boy who came by daily on his horse, but looked just as old fashioned. Each wore ancient-looking buckled shoes and had his hair tied back with a ribbon. Watching them approach, I felt a wistful pang for the fashionable sidewalks of New York City.
“Good morrow,” they said in unison.
“Good morrow,” I replied.
“I’m Geoffrey,” said the one on the left.
“I’m John,” said the other.
“I’m William,” I said.
“Are you Doctor Merrick’s boy?” Geoffrey asked.
I appraised him with a cool look. “I’m his apprentice, yes.”
“We heard about you from Joseph. He said you dress funny.”
John chimed in. “Why are you dressed like that?”
I didn’t even have to glance down. I was dressed in the boots and long breeches men wore these days in the cities. They looked like they hadn’t yet heard about the end of the Revolution. “I’m not from around here,” I said simply.
“Have you seen his face?” John asked.
“I heard he has fangs,” said Geoffrey.
“Is he fattening you up?” John asked with an impish smirk.
“You better watch out.” Geoffrey added.
I interrupted the little brats before they could really get going. “What are you two doing out here by yourselves?”
“We’re going to ask for some tea for our mum.” Geoffrey said.
“Our sister’s ill.” John added.
“Ah,” I said. I wondered what the sister’s “illness” was. Merrick’s customers tended to decline Joseph’s delivery services when private matters were involved. “Well, perhaps you had better work on your manners between here and the door. Farewell.”
“Fare thee well,” they chimed, clearly unbothered by my admonishment, and prodded their horses on.
I left them behind with a sigh.
In the meadow by the stream I dug dandelion after dandelion, careful not to break the roots as I pulled them from the soft ground and laid them in the basket. The day was damp and moody, with fat wet clouds passing over the gentle sun every few minutes and casting a shadow over everything.
By the time my basket was overflowing, I had given myself a stern lecture. I was determined to defeat my soggy mood and head back to the cottage with my back straight and my mind fresh.
There was just no use moping about such mishaps!
At the end of each day, I was still just a poor book-peddling dandy who’d been stupid enough to get caught on the wrong side of the law and was lucky enough to avoid jail or worse.
So what if I was now apprenticed to a witch in the backwoods? So what if I was experiencing a bit of confusion in my loins at the moment? Things could have been much worse and I damned well knew it.
Thick clouds had blocked out the sun entirely by the time I started to leave the pasture. Then, as if God wanted to challenge my determination to make the best of things, there was a sudden flash in the sky followed by a crack of thunder. The rain that came pouring down was monstrously heavy, and I set off back to Merrick’s at a run.
Chapter 7
I was a muddy mess by the time I reached the door. I set the basket down under the eaves and started for the lean-to to strip and wash, but Merrick opened the door as I was turning.
“You mustn’t stay out here cold and wet,” he said.
“I thought I’d just clean off a bit,” I said, shaking my wet hair from my eyes.
Merrick lifted the hem of his robe and stepped outside into the rain, putting a hand on my back and pressing me toward the lean-to. He latched the door and hung his lantern, then quickly removed his cloak and hung it on a peg near the stove. “Take off your clothes,” he said, stoking the coals near the tub of water.
I stood frozen in place. It was dim in the shelter, but still much brighter than the bedroom had been when I had lit a match and glimpsed Merrick without his robe. He was dressed much like me, in boots and breeches with a simple white shirt, and his short black hair fell in silky tendrils about his temples and the nape of his neck.
Most importantly, his beauty was stunning in the glow of the coals and the lantern, and the gray cloud light that seeped in through a few cracks in the walls of the lean-to. His skin was firm and taut, and his garments clung loosely to a graceful, muscular body that looked as young and robust as any I’d ever seen.
For God’s sake! Was he not clearly a young man? Did that not change everything?
With Merrick, I thought I had recognized all the qualities I attached to an old master: calm and patient as a result of his many years on earth, humbled by wrinkled skin and creaking bones, and pleased to pass his knowledge on to a willing successor. Being as young and unlearned as he was old and wise, it was only natural that I had deferred to him.
In fact, deep down, I was glad for it; for having ever lacked a father of my own, I had always held a tender place in my heart for the attention of any man who took the trouble to teach me anything, from the old drunk who’d taught me cards at the tavern where my mother worked to the aged book collectors who first told me about their favorite items.
Really, it was no surprise that Merrick had charmed me, with his air of age and wisdom, his patient, paternal manner, and – not least of all – the druid-like robe that projected timeless authority.
But here was he revealed, young and vital, no older than my drinking partners in the city!
Oh, I was thrown. Every time things started to make sense…
“William?”
He was looking at me, and I was caught momentarily by his startling amber eyes. The color was so pure and luminous it was as though they were lit from within.
Blinking, I managed to break away from his golden gaze to pull off my shirt and hang it on a hook near the laundry tub. Then I sat on a stool to remove my filthy boots and my stockings. After setting them aside, I was still.
“Must I remove your pants for you?” Merrick asked with an exasperated sigh. “Or are you confident enough in my ability to cure pneumonia?”
I looked miserably at him, but quickly remembered to avert my eyes lest I be caught in that gaze again . I slowly unbuttoned my breeches and rose to remove them, determined to ignore his smooth skin and elegant features, the way his amber eyes were set off by his soft, ink-black hair. No more looking, I told myself sternly. You can’t trust yourself. At last I stood naked.
“Come closer to the coals,” Merrick said.
I padded closer, standing in the warmth of the small stove with my hands folded in front of my groin. “Did those boys find you this morning, sir?”
“The Jones twins? They did. Breathe in the vapor.”
He had added something to the water and stoked the flames so that it was steaming. I stiffened, suspicious.
“It’s nothing out of the ordinary, William,” Merrick said, his tone softening. “Eucalyptus and a bit of mint, to refresh your lungs.”
“Thank you, sir,” I mumbled, and ducked my chin a bit when he put a hand to the small of my back and nudged me toward the steam. Did he not realize what happened when he touched me? There was no way to stop him without revealing my own weakness. As I breathed in the vapor, I watched from the corner of my eye as he dipped a clean rag in the steaming water. Then he reached for a jar on a shelf above, opened it, and shook a finely ground powder onto the steaming rag.
“You met the twins on the road, did you?” Merrick asked.
I nodded, and only jumped a little when he began to scrub my back in firm, circular motions. Whatever powder he’d applied to the rag was pleasantly scratchy and gave off a lovely scent. “What’s that you put on the cloth, sir?”
“Lavender salt.”
A curious thing began to happen then: First, I started to rel
ax. The rain was falling hard on the tight wooden roof, and the occasional clap of thunder rumbled over us, but inside the cedar shed things were warm and fragrant. The tingling vapors rising from the steam made my lungs and head feel clear and fresh, and as Merrick’s strong fingers massaged my back and shoulder muscles through the fragrant cloth, I felt myself lulled into a state of calm I hadn’t felt in a long, long while.
And then, my long-frazzled brain did an extraordinary thing. I can only describe it thusly: in some convenient corner of my mind, a strong and sturdy Wall began to slowly rise. And as it went up, it concealed from view all of the alarming feelings and confusing paradoxes that had been swarming about my head for days, threatening to drive me mad.
Most blessedly, it sealed away the two most stubborn, nerve-wracking, tormenting questions of all: Why did my body yearn for Merrick? And why did the yearning seem to touch my very soul?
As these terrible queries faded from the forefront of my mind, disappearing behind the Wall to be addressed at some later point (or never), I was able to enjoy a sensation of peace and quiet I had not experienced in weeks.
No longer did I have to wonder why I was so willing to stand here completely nude while Merrick’s powerful hands massaged my bare skin. Instead, I could simply enjoy it.
And enjoy it I did. My head drooped over the vapors as I leaned against the solid wooden shelves on either side of the hearth, soaking up the powerful ministrations that turned my knotted muscles to tender bliss.
“May I ask something, sir?” I murmured after a spell,
“You may.”
“Are you human?”
There was a pause, and then, to my surprise, Merrick answered. “Not anymore.”
“Then are you some kind of devil?”
He was quiet, but didn’t miss a beat in kneading my lower back. “Would you want to know if I were?”
“I never believed in any such nonsense,” I replied. “Witches, devils, demons, or vampires.”
His touch faded for a moment, and then returned. “Then you may not believe me if I told you I were one of those things?”
“I would believe you.”
“And would you be frightened?”
“If you threatened me, I would be frightened.”
I heard vague amusement in his voice. “And if I didn’t threaten you?”
“I wouldn’t see any cause for fright.”
He laughed softly. “Now, is that proof that we are still in the Age of Reason? Or that it is, in fact, drawing to a close?”
I had never heard him speak in jest before, and that quiet laugh sent a shiver down my spine. If I cared to prevent another embarrassing incident – and I cared quite distinctly, Wall or no Wall – I thought it best that I keep talking. “How old are you, sir?”
“I am two hundred and eighty-two years old.”
I turned that over in my mind for awhile.
Was it possible the man was simply crazy?
No. I reminded myself of all of the bizarre elements that ruled out any simple, earthly explanation. Something supernatural was afoot, and I had no reason to doubt his honesty. “How long have you been in this country?”
“For forty-five years. Before that I was in France, and before that Italy, and before that England.”
“What are you, then, Master Merrick?”
Merrick rinsed the rag and wrung it over my back, sloughing the salt from my skin. Then he lathered it with soap and ran it over my back in broad, slow sweeps. “I don’t feel it’s time to talk about that, William.”
“Do you think it will frighten me?”
“I think it will come out soon enough. We are living in close quarters.” He washed beneath my arms, and from my shoulders to my wrists.
I couldn’t fathom why he was doing me such an intimate favor. Perhaps he didn’t think I washed well enough myself? That was a worrisome thought. I was nothing if not fastidious, but he did seem rather particular about cleanliness himself. Suddenly I remembered something I’d been curious about. “Why did you ask the court for an apprentice, Master Merrick?”
“I was advised that it was time to do so.”
“But you could have found anyone to be your student, sir. Tradesmen who take their apprentices from the state don’t usually invest in their charges…” I lost my train of thought as the rag traveled over my chest, but forged on with determination. “…with such kind attention.”
“I know,” Merrick replied. “And the delinquents they receive as charges are not usually such charming and articulate young men. I suppose we are both fortunate.” After a moment he added, “I was advised quite specifically that I was to ask the court for an apprentice. I acted accordingly, and am glad that I did.” He rinsed the soap from my body. “Now, go inside and put on some tea. We’ll rest today.”
I straightened up with a nod and patted myself dry with a cloth that always hung from a peg on the wall. I left the shed feeling much refreshed – and none too relieved to have gotten through that without incident. That was worth a long sigh of relief once I closed the door behind myself.
I dressed in my night shirt, for lack of anything else to wear, and put on the tea. Merrick came in as I was settling down at the table. He was wearing his robe again, but took it off and hung it over the chair near the door. It seemed he no longer saw any reason to hide his face from me, now that I’d seen it.
Lord, he was a handsome man! What I would have given for looks like that! Not that I’d ever had any complaints, but I doubted the Devil himself could have come up with a more devastatingly magnetic visage than Merrick’s.
On the other hand, perhaps he was the Devil himself…for all I knew.
“You were born in the city?” Merrick asked, after settling into his chair with his tea.
I looked up from the table where I’d opened a book with my lunch. “Yes,” I said, admiring his easy pose in his chair. One leg was stretched out, the other bent at the knee, and he leaned lightly on one arm of the chair with a book in his hand.
He turned his bright amber eyes on me. “You enjoyed your life there?”
“There was never a dull moment.” I paused thoughtfully. “I’d never seen land like this, though. Or a running stream.” I paused again. “I hope my mother’s happy for my being here. She has never liked the city.”
Merrick looked back at his book and turned the page. “Perhaps she can come for a visit later on.”
I felt an ache in my chest in response. I hadn’t seen my mother in weeks. I never even had the chance to see her after I was thrown in jail. I hoped she’d get my letter swiftly, and that she wasn’t worried.
“I was sorry to hear of her predicament,” Merrick murmured, as though reading my mind. Maybe he could...for all I knew. “I hope it will be a comfort to her to hear that you are safe and sound.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said quietly, miserable at the thought of another person knowing what my poor mum had done. It came as no real surprise, I supposed, that Merrick had heard of the circumstances. But, still… “No one in that damn filthy place can keep his mouth shut,” I muttered in spite of myself.
“That is true.” Merrick turned another page, and said more gently, “But you can rest assured they have no room for judgment in their hearts.”
I stared at my tea, gloomy.
However, spending the day in the cozy cottage with Merrick, listening to the rain fall outside, was irresistibly relaxing. My mood was calm before long. After supper, which I ate alone as always, Merrick lifted my spirits immeasurably when he produced a bottle of port.
A bit of small talk led to a pleasant exchange on philosophy. Merrick seemed pleased by my familiarity with Montesquieu and Rousseau, and I was intrigued by his talk of the German Immanuel Kant. I stayed up later than usual and found myself becoming drowsy as it neared eleven. How quickly habits changed! When my thoughts were interrupted by a deep yawn, Merrick smiled and nodded me off to bed. I bid him goodnight and left him with his books.
I was
only dozing lightly when the bed creaked beneath Merrick’s weight, and I was only beginning to drift off again when I felt his hand on mine.
That woke me up proper.
After a moment of silence, his hand stroking mine in the dark, Merrick murmured, “You were not affected when I bathed you.”
I was startled, then confused. He could not possibly be referring to what immediately leapt into my mind. Could he? I sniffed secretly for truth resin, and found the air clear. “I was glad, sir,” I said uncertainly. “If that’s what you mean. I feel much refreshed.”
There was silence. Then Merrick moved closer, leaning over me.
Oh, God. Was he testing me now? True, my body had spared me another embarrassing incident today – but by no means did I feel confident it was more than a fluke!
“I would like you to tell me if there is something you want from me,” Merrick said softly.
“I’m in want of nothing,” I said, somehow, though my voice came out in a whisper.
Damn it all. Whatever had kept me in check in the shed was not helping me now. He laid a cool hand on my cheek, his thumb stroking the skin near the corner of my mouth, and I felt my features tremble in response. Damn it all!
How could I tell him that his tender gestures aroused such alarming deviance in me? How could I reject his warmth and good will without revealing my own sickness, or offending him? “Sir, you give me far more than I have any right to ask for…”
Merrick’s hand trailed down my neck, tracing my throat, moving slowly down my chest and lingering there so that his fingertips trailed with agonizing leisure over my sensitive skin.
“Forgive me, sir,” I blurted as a shiver ran through my body, terrifying me with the threat of what I was starting to consider inevitable. In desperation, I stammered a humiliated confession. “Something strange happens when you touch me like…”
“What happens, exactly?” Merrick murmured, his hand continuing downwards until it rested on my stomach and stroked there gently.
“Perhaps it is the withdrawal from vice,” I suggested feebly, but hopefully. “I’ve only been touched by women in my life, and so the response is, perhaps, a matter of habit…”
