Love at the inn

By Frederik Gerdes

There once was a soldier, not young, nor old. He wore black slacks, a white shirt and a black frock. He had his musket slung over his shoulder and a saber dangling at his side. He was on his way back from the great war in the lands across the great mountains. His horse was strutting alongside him, white as the full moon. The soldier was very unhappy, because there was no more war, and all he knew was how to fight, for he had been a soldier all his life. He thought to himself that he ought to learn a trait, maybe become a craftsman, or find a nice place to administer. Then he could lead a peaceful life, and perhaps let the daemons in his head lay to rest.

His name was James and his only skill in life was to kill his enemies, as he was commanded to do, and as he had commanded the men who had served beneath him to do. He had been an officer in the army before the army disbanded. Now his mind was on the city where he was born, and where he was travelling to. But now the night was coming, so he stopped at an inn at the side of the road. He had a pretty purse of silver, for he had not been one to drink excessively or gamble as many of the other soldiers. Therefore, he could afford a room, with some stew and flagon of ale for dinner. He made sure his horse was taken good care for in the stables, before he himself sat down in the far end of the dining room to eat. The stew was delicious, and did wonders for his empty stomach, and the ale had a pleasant sweetness, that soothed his mouth and mind.

Yet, as he was enjoying his meal and resting his aching limbs, two raggedy looking men came in and demanded two flacons of ale from the innkeeper. She scurried into the kitchen and fetched the ale, but when she brought it out the men showed their character. The man sitting closest to the door, grabbed the innkeeper's bodice and called her a tasty piece of pork. "You're a little plump for my taste, but I think you will do nicely for the night" the man on the other side of the table said. He then emptied his cup in one gulp and drew a long and crocket dagger out from under his coat. "I think we will stay for the night, and maybe we will stay tomorrow too" the uglier one, with a scar across his nose, next to the door, said. He too drew a dagger and made a small cut into the innkeepers' chest, that cut the straps on one side of her dress and apron. She screamed and told them to get out, but the scarred man just grabbed her arms and held them behind her back.

James stood up and shouted, "you two there, let her go and get out of here, now!" while he put his hand on the musket that was leaning against the table. The two men suddenly lost interest in the woman and made front against James. James remained calm, grabbed the musket, and told them to get out again, "this is your last warning". The musket wasn't loaded, but he hoped they wouldn't unmask his bluff, and cared more about their life than causing mischief, but he wasn't optimistic, that he wouldn't have to fight them.

The two men advanced slowly across the floor. James walked around the table he had been sitting at. He was still pointing the empty musket at the larger of the two men. When they came close enough, James tossed the musket into the air and grabbed it by the barrel. He swung to the left in a large arch, against the larger brute, but he ducket just in time. Unfortunately for his companion in crime, he didn't have the same reflexes and was hit squarely in the temple with the butt of the musket. He fell as long as he was and hit his head again, on the corner of a table behind him. The remaining man jumped towards James with his dagger forward and his head down. James jumped to the side, so the bandit stumbled on a chair that was behind James. James quickly drew his saber and fell out against the bandit. He swung the sword adeptly and, cut the bandit on the arm he held his knife in. The bandit cried out and switched the dagger to his unscathed hand. He tried to stab James again, but he missed, and James counterattacked with a blow with the blunt side of his sword to the back of the bandit's head. James grabbed the first of the passed-out bandits under the arms and dragged him out the front door. The second one was waking up, when it was his turn, so James kicked him with his hard leather boot in the temple, then he dragged him out next to his friend.

James walked back into the inn and shut the door thoroughly behind him. The innkeeper fell to her knees and thanked him. He dragged her unto her legs and told her not to worry, when she noticed that James was bleeding. The innkeeper let out a shocked squeal and said, "by god you are injured, come, come, sit down", she quickly grabbed a towel and put pressure on the wound in her savior's side. It was obvious to James that the innkeeper was more concerned about the wound, than he was himself, so he endeavored to calm her down.
"Hey, hey! Look me in my eyes. Madam, what is your name?" James asked, and shook the woman in front of him lightly, until she answered.
"Johanne Goodbrew" she exhaled along with a lot of heavy breathing.
"Johanne, you can breathe easily, the bandits will be long gone by now. For good I think we can say. I've only got myself a scratch, I don't think I will even need a doctor."

The following days were so far, some of the most peaceful of James entire life. Johanne would soon come to learn of James' nightmares. He told her they came after the war was over, and there was no more fighting to be done. At night she would hear screaming from the room she had given James to reside in. She would always come knocking on the door, and when he didn't answer, walk in and talk to him softly until he fell back asleep. Twice a day Johanne served him stew with dark rye bread, roasted meats and potatoes with local, deep red wine and other extravagant meals. She had left a stack of novels on the bedside table, so James was never bored, but the time he enjoyed the most, was the evenings. After the inn was quiet for the day and the chores were complete, Johanne would sit on the edge of the bed, and the two young people would share their life stories with each other. Each night Johanne sat down a little bit closer to James, and soon they were holding hands and caressing each other, as they were sharing their most private thoughts.

Eventually the wound was healed to such an extent, that James was able to sit upright. Johanne wasn't slow to realize her desire and grab this opportunity to kiss him. He reciprocated wholeheartedly and pulled her softly onto the bed. They slowly undressed one another under the covers, and made love carefully, but secure in the unspoken affection they had for each other. They permeated desire in the darkness, for what seemed like an eternity as well as just a moment, until they both gasped in ecstasy and hugged each other tighter. "I love you", said James "as I do you" Johanne replied. That night they slept in the same bed, and James didn't wake up screaming a single time.

James was certain what his future was meant to be. He was going to be the innkeepers' husband, for she had said yes, when he requested her hand the night before. He was going to put his saber away, and clean pots and pans, poor ale and wine, make beds and do laundry. It all seemed like a fantasy to James, who had thought his life would be haunted by the horrors in his head forever, but when Johanne was near, his mind was quiet.

They lived happily in each other's arms, as often as they could sneak a moment away from their chores. They kissed intensely every chance they got. At night Johanne would stroke the scar on James's stomach and call him her hero, and he would tell her how he would be cut a thousand times for her and the life they have.

They lived together joyously ever after.