Blades of Men (on hold - sorry!)

Chapter Nine: Conrad

Chapter Nine: Conrad

   The girl in my arms let go of consciousness like an eagle, flying swiftly and soundlessly into sleep. I sighed. She had fainted, again, and once more I was left with a young lady to cradle and worry over. I almost missed the freedom of the road and the call of fresh scenery and clearer air – where a betrayed husband or local magistrate wasn’t looking to ‘chat’.

   I couldn’t remember the number of times I had been summoned to various courts. Never had they been able to pin down a crime larger than that of a bad attitude. I hadn’t allowed for more than that. Yet there was a certain comfort to be derived from company and common circumstances, even if that situation happened to be a kidnap.

   I started walking, knowing from experience that it wouldn’t be long before her lashes fluttered open once more. First, I needed to find a place to set her down and clean her various cuts, before I could even think of dragging her to a dock in the middle of nowhere. With any luck, her brief flight from the problems of life was due to nothing more serious than some scratches and shaken emotions, rather than imminent death or an ominous ‘premonition’. It had happen before, once – an old lover who told me that the fates demanded we marry.

   Spiritual matters seemed to disappoint more than they those they saved. Whether it was a witch or the clergy who pretended to know how I should live my life, they were wrong. I had vengeance to exact.    

   My blood boiled at the thought of Athalia – or rather, her assailant. I may plan to coldheartedly extract money from her father and secrets from her lips in any conniving way I can, but that gave no one the right to touch her, to harm her or to seduce her. She was mine, for the time being, and I would defend my possessions well. That duty included rendering any oaf unconscious who dared to try and intimidate her.   

   I made my way back to where the horse had been grazing peacefully. Wind rippled through the leafy meadow, flattening the grassy stands beneath my feet. I seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to Athalia; or at the very least, a disposition to come after her. I shouldn’t let her out of my sight for a moment lest she happen upon men with menacing intentions.

   I thought of the kind of life that would be. Eating together, working together, and travelling together. Living together. For a moment, the thought of it appealed to me more than I would ever have admitted to. Then the horrendous image of Mr and Mrs England occurred to me. A steady, normal family, loyal forever to the crown and content with perceptions of what was ordinary and right. I refused to be a clichéd member of the aristocracy. I would rather bring shame with honourable intentions than honour with shameful tactics.

   True to my intuition, Athalia stirred slightly within the confines of my arms. Within seconds, she had leapt from what could have been construed as an intimate embrace with no mention of thanks other than a haughty flick of her hair.

   “Where are we?” she asked, the sultry tones floating through the air with the consistency of honey.

   “A few hundred feet from where you were last awake,” I replied dryly. “You seem to have the constitution of a butterfly. Should I invest in some smelling salts?” Her cheeks turned to rosebuds at the question, and her eyes flashed angrily.

   I appeared to be in the doghouse again.

   “I have a disease of the blood. Nothing can be done, according to the doctors, and to be frank, it is about as life threatening as a bruise. To answer your question, I have a tendency to faint and can become tired quite easily. Smelling salts would simply end up down your throat. Feel free to find a way to change what runs through my veins, but for the moment you will have to put up with the dizziness.”