Raised By Wolves 3 - Treasure (41 page)

“Then Ya Be Sane Enough. And When Ya Na’ Be, Ya Got A Matelot Ta Care Fur Ya.”

“So you will gauge my sanity based upon my actions?” I asked.

He shrugged. “There Be No Other Way. Ya Canna’ Know What A Man Thinks. An’ It Don’t Matter. What A Man Does Matters.”

I supposed there was more truth to that than all the allegories of caves I could muster. Still, I wanted to know his opinion.

“What if a man does a thing that seems mad to others, but is actually quite reasoned from his perspective?” I asked.

“Is That Na’ The Way O’ All Things Men Do?”

I shook my head and smiled. I was asking an ancient God: Pete was all Horse and ever stood beyond the cave.

“I sometimes shy at things others do not see,” I admitted quietly.

“They Be Things A Man Should Be Scared O’?”

“I think so.”

“Then Ya Be Sane. Does Na’ Matter If Another Sees It. I Be Worried About Ya If Ya Na’ Be Scared.”

“But I embrace… things… that other men fear,” I added.

He grinned. “Do They Kill Ya?”

I shrugged and smiled. “Nay.”

“Then Another Man Would Be Mad For Gettin’ Near ’Im.” He cocked his head with a knowing smirk. “But Ya Be Sane Enough.”

“So, you would say the madness occurs only in those first moments when one reaches out to take hold of a thing others fear? And if one survives that first grasp, then he has crossed some demarcation of madness and becomes sane?”

He chuckled. “Aye.”

I shared his mirth. “I agree with that.” It matched well with much of what Gaston and I had thought on the matter these last weeks.

Striker, Gaston, and his father had joined us in the room. Dupree was busy translating for the Marquis. Striker was eyeing me with concern. My matelot was smiling.

“All reasoning applied to the matter leads to the conclusion of our sanity,” Gaston said with quiet amusement.

I joined him near the door, and kissed him lightly. I glanced at the Marquis, who was frowning at Pete now that Dupree had finished.

“I feel we shall never convince any save Pete of that,” I sighed.

Gaston shrugged. “At this moment, I care not.”

“Should I remind you of that, when next you do care?” I teased.

“You may try,” he said somberly. “I doubt you will be successful.” He shrugged again and led me out to the balcony. “Henrietta has returned.”

“Ah,” I sighed. “Then we must abandon our sophism and venture out again.”

He shook his head and frowned. “I feel we are crawling into the deepest recesses of the cave the others sit in.”

“Non,” I said quickly. “It will be as it was when I married Vivian,” I whispered. “You shall play a part. We shall be shadows upon their wall, but we know what we truly are.”

His gaze met mine for a moment before he began walking toward the stairs: I saw fear in his heart. I caught him and turned him to face me.

The fear in his eyes was gone, but it had been replaced by resignation.

“What?” I asked. “As fractious as our mounts are this day, please do not leave a thing unsaid.”

He shook his head and frowned with thought. “I am afraid we will cast many shadows, because there are different truths.”

“The Devil with allegory,” I said quietly. “What are the truths?”

He met my gaze earnestly. “I love you.”

“But?”

“I want her,” he whispered. He flinched from what he saw in my eyes.

“I understand, I understand,” I said quickly. “Do not… Oui, my Horse does not like it, but I understand. As I have said before, I want her too. She is beautiful. I do not wish to speak with her now, but if the opportunity presented itself for us to fuck willingly, I would rise to the occasion. I think that is a thing of our Horses.”

“Non,” he said with a quick shake of his head. “My Horse does not want her, my cock does.”

I nodded as I gave the matter thought. “You are correct. They are two different entities; they merely operate in concert on occasion to assail our reason: that is why I suppose I have ever seen them as one.”

“My Horse does not like her, Will, but my reason says this is a thing I should do, and my cock wishes for it very much, and I feel great guilt over it. Which should I follow?” He shook his head irritably. “Not my cock, obviously: it has no mind and no say.”

I sighed. “I feel this is why I was querying Pete. My Horse wants little to do with her, either; and my cock… as you say, has no say; and my reason says it is a thing that should be done. And I worry – as we have discovered in many things – that denying the truth our Horses perceive will lead us to ruin, but I do not wish to deny you a chance to… attempt things you have ever wanted and perhaps should try.”

“Should I?” he asked. “I cannot conceive of lying with you without my Horse and my heart being involved. But her… I simply wish to fuck her until she gets with child. And that seems wrong.”

I chuckled and he regarded me sharply. I shook my head. “My love, there are many who would say you are not a man for those sentiments.”

I sighed at his frown and sobered. “Most men are creatures of their cocks, with occasional periods of reason. Just as most women are creatures of their hearts, with occasional periods of reason. We are centaurs – though I have lived many years as a man like any other– but we are different, now. For me it is easier, as my cock favors men; but for you, there is a dichotomy in your soul about the matter, just as there is in Striker. In order to have the love our Horses desire, our hearts and souls desire, we must rein in our cocks with the iron hand of reason. I have become so accustomed to doing so because… It would be dangerous to live among the Brethren if I behaved as I did before coming here.

“When I traveled Christendom, I would have set about seducing Pete when first I saw him, whether I had a lover or not; and if I had a lover, I would have assumed he was doing the same. It was that way with Alonso: we would tease one another and even wager on who would be successful first. The only aspect of the matter that ever gave me pause was if I encountered a man who insisted on bestowing, and then my old fears, and thus my Horse, always trumped my cock.”

Though he had frowned with the Horse’s jealousy at the mention of Pete, my matelot had remained silent, and moved away to lean against the wall with a thoughtful mien. He nodded. “My Horse rules my cock in the matter of you.”

“I know,” I said, and went to him to lean with my hands on either side of his shoulders. I pressed my forehead to his. “And I thank the Gods for it,” I whispered. “Let your cock play for a while, my love.

Reason has a very strong hand in this matter – and I do not mean to hold the reins, but very good cards. We know that. You can make a child. You can give your father an heir. It aids another, who, though she is a silly child, does need help to find happiness in this life. We will…

endure and conquer. Our Horses… They are strong. They can carry this for a time, oui? They can pull the extra weight in the cart. As long as we know it will end. We will need to treat them with great care and respect and give them many treats, though.”

He smiled at that last, and moved enough to kiss me. “I will not have you angry with me,” he said somberly.

I was minded of another time when we had stood thus against a wall, him with his back to it and me bracketing him. I had said I feared he would hate me for my cock’s desires. “I will never hate you for what you desire,” I said. “Never.”

He gave a heavy sigh and embraced me. We stood thus for a time. I wished to hold him forever. Though my words had been said to calm my Horse as much as his, I felt I lied to the animals, just as I had ever done when my mount became startled and I knew damn well it should be, as I knew a fight loomed, or it would rain, or I too could see the snake– or madmen – on the road ahead. But sometimes men must press on to confront or pass obvious danger in order to reach some safe haven or obtain some goal that will make the whole of it worthwhile: things horses cannot understand.

And so we at last parted and went to collect women. Henrietta had returned from the market and shops with new stays, linens, shifts, stockings, shoes, and every other accoutrement her lady might need, and an old gown that she thought might fit Vivian; but she was afraid to show it to her mistress as it was drab, wool, and not at all stylish. I took the bundles from her and went to the parlor.

“This is the best Henrietta could do today,” I told my wife. “To do better, we will need a seamstress to take your measurements and make you several gowns.”

She eyed the dress with dismay, but to my surprise, did not squawk or make complaint. She took it from me with a resolute nod.

“Will you remove these chains so I might dress,” she said quietly.

“And send Henrietta in… or else I will need your assistance.” She sighed.

I tried to remember where I had put the key. “Let me fetch the key, and I will send her in. I am accomplished at assisting young ladies in disrobing, but rarely the other way around.”

She smirked, and then regarded me curiously. “So you intend to go to the church now? Is Jamaica not sleeping?”

“Need she be awake for this?” I asked.

“I suppose not.” She shrugged, but then that nonchalance fled her and her expression became earnest. “It will be just us, correct? Just you and me, and… Lord Montren, I suppose.”

“Well, actually, we were hoping to make only the one visit to the church and see to Gaston’s marriage at the same time.”

“Nay!” She sat, as if that would stop me from moving her, like a donkey does when it decides it will work no more. “I will not be seen by that bitch. Not like this. Not when… She will gloat. Do not make me do this,” she wailed.

I cursed quietly and sighed. “Nay, nay, I will not force you to… face her. It was incredibly foolish of me to think that… Never mind. We will go alone: just the three of us. We will fetch Jamaica from the Theodores’

and go to the church.”

I left her, and went to find Gaston. He was speaking with Christine, Agnes, and Sarah at the top of the stairs.

“Apparently your sister’s dresses do not fit her well,” Gaston said with a tired sigh.

Sarah rolled her eyes. “She is taller and wider across the shoulders.”

“And all of mine are not… They are just not.” Agnes sighed, and did not explain her gowns’ specific inadequacies.

I excused us, and put my arm about Gaston’s shoulder to walk down the balcony a short distance before whispering in his ear. “Vivian does not wish to see her. She would go to the church alone with us and not be seen by anyone. As… you do not wish to brave your bride’s monthly flow, do you feel your wedding can wait until the morrow, when perhaps another dress can be found?” I pulled away enough to regard his face.

He was grimacing, and he had colored slightly. “Oui.”

I nodded, and began to pull away, but he clutched my arm.

“Will,” he hissed. “The thought of blood in the bed, and… I cannot see… I can see… my sister, when I think of…”

“Oh Gods!” I pulled him into my embrace. “I am sorry, my love. I was not thinking at all.”

“I had…” He sighed and held me tighter to whisper. “I did not think of it at first, either. I merely felt very uncomfortable and disturbed by the notion: the crowing of my cock was louder, though. And then… I did think of it, and now I know it will be difficult enough despite the urging of my cock.”

“Well, the more time you have to prepare yourself, the better,” I sighed and kissed his cheek.

“And I know how… Lady Marsdale feels,” he said. “I can feel them staring at us even now. Gods, Will, we have told her nothing. In all the…”

I swore. In all the chaos this day, we had forgotten the things we most wished to address with any prospective bride: his madness and his scars. “Well, this delay is surely a boon granted by the Gods to compensate for our forgetfulness in the face of today’s drama.”

He pulled away and nodded with a rueful smile. “We would have remembered on the way to the church.” He met my gaze. “You must speak with her,” he said.

I did not see how that would go well. “Now, or after we attend to the baptism?” I asked.

“Now,” he sighed. “I would have the matter decided now. I will… Is there much that must be done with… Lady Marsdale?”

I smiled. “She stumbles on your title as much as you do on hers: call her Vivian and be done with it. I said I would send Henrietta in, but we need the key to her chains, and I do not remember…”

“I put it with the one for our manacles. I will fetch it.”

“That is a relief,” I said. “Fetch Henrietta as well, unless you wish to assist Vivian with her stays.”

He shook his head and hurried down the stairs.

I turned to find three women regarding me with curiosity in his wake. “It appears we will see to the baptism this day, and address the matter of the wedding when it is more convenient to do so. And I must speak with Miss Vines, alone,” I said.

Christine frowned, but Agnes and Sarah nodded and began to walk away.

“Wait,” Christine said. “Why?”

Sarah and Agnes paused.

“There are things Gaston wishes for me to discuss with you,” I said.

“Before you marry. In the… madness of events this day we… forgot to address some very important matters which might bring about a different agreement.” I sighed and shrugged.

Her eyes narrowed. “I will not make any agreement with you.”

I sighed again. “That is not my suggestion, Miss Vines. My suggestion is that you hear me out, and using the information I shall impart to you, choose to alter your agreement with Gaston, or not, as it suits you.”

“You should listen to him,” Sarah said, and led Agnes away.

“Fine,” Christine said, with her hands on her hips. “Speak.”

I looked about. I could, of course, suggest that we enter Agnes’ room and talk, but with all else that had occurred, I did not feel comfortable with such a breach of decorum. All others on this floor of the house were engaged elsewhere; and if I kept my voice low, no one who might be below the balcony would be likely to hear.

I closed the distance between us. She stood her ground with more bravado than confidence: staying firmly rooted in the doorway, even when I was less than an arm’s length from her.