Chapter 1. A Diversion
The crystal night with stars like diamond glints framed a pallid moon; a hundred miles out to sea, Gabrielle Émilie stands with upturned face to the scattered stars; her heart and mind are fused in the symmetry of Saturn and red-faced Mars. Gabrielle Émilie, unaware of the fate that had befallen her pursuers, and still of the belief that she was being pursued, remained in the guise of a man. Anxious trepidation weighed upon her young soul, yet she lost herself in the clustered beauty of the skies.
Gabrielle Émilie had paid a golden chalice and four rubies in the town of
Ishmael inquired of the Russian captain where one could find some work. The captain directed them to a nearby tavern that was run by his cousin, Fyodor. The captain penned a letter of introduction, and Gabrielle Émilie, who was known as Gustav, parted with yet another golden ring in thanks for the letter. At the Tavern called the “Dancing Bear,” they found the elder Fyodor to be quite amiable and hospitable. Having lost his recent bar keep and maid as the two had eloped the night before last; Fyodor hired the traveling company and provided board at a discount. Ishmael worked the bar as Shamhat and Gabrielle Émilie served the patrons and on occasion Shamhat entertained them with dance and song. Enkidu once again worked as a cook, and was at times assisted by the ladies. Once word spread of the Shamhat’s entrancing dance and sweet song, the Dancing Bear grew in reputation and patronage. Gladdened by his good turn, the generous Fyodor increased the wages of the four travelers in his employ.
Here the four worked for a fortnight, when one night a well bred man dressed in purple cloth and fine furs entered the establishment. He was accompanied by two valets. Gabrielle Émilie waited upon the good sir, and was quick to learn that the fine gentleman spoke her native French, which indicated he was of a
Four nights passed, and under the cover of darkness, another visitor arrived, he was in fine robes but his feet were cast in iron and chains, though he was of young age. He was accompanied by a valet and two armed soldiers, and again sat at Gabrielle Émilie’s table. Shamhat had just started her dance but there were few left to watch except the newly arrived guest. Again, Gabrielle Émilie engaged the good sir in conversation, to which the guest replied: “My name is Ivan. I was once Emperor of all the Russians, but was dethroned in my cradle. My parents were confined, and I was brought up in a prison, yet I am sometimes allowed to travel, though always with persons to keep a guard over me, and I have come to spend the evening by the sea.” At the end of the show, Ivan’s valet then approached and said, “Sire, if Your Majesty will be advised by me, you will not make any longer stay in this place; I will go and get everything ready;” and instantly disappeared. Again Gabrielle Émilie was thanked for her kindness and the guards escorted Ivan out into the night.
An equal amount of days passed, and Gabrielle Émilie awoke one morning to a grand gentleman clothed in fine silks from head to toe. Upon his graying crown sat a finely feathered turban. She served him breakfast and again learned of the poor man’s fate: “my name is Achmet. I was Grand Sultan for many years; I dethroned my brother, my nephew dethroned me, my viziers lost their heads, and I am condemned to end my days in exile. My nephew, the Grand Sultan Mahomet, gave me permission to travel to this place, and I have come to spend my waning years by the sea.” Resigned to providence, he began to eat his meal.
As they sat and supped at the table, in came a most Serene Highnesses, upon inquiry this is what Her Majesty said, “I am Sophia, Empress of Russia. I dethroned my brother, and in turn he dethroned me, I have fought in defense of my rights, and near a thousand of my friends have had their hearts taken out of their bodies alive and thrown in their faces, and I am forced to renounce my royal blood and rightful claim to the throne. Stripped of my territories by the fortune of war, I have come to spend the remainder of my days at a nearby nunnery.”
As the Empress began her meal, two noble gentlemen entered, and upon meeting the handsome Gabrielle Émilie, the younger of the two, introduced himself as such, “I am Charles Edward, King of England; dethroned, I myself have been confined in a prison. Now, I am going to
Yet another entered the premises, and was quickly approached by his valet, who spoke hurriedly and quite harshly, “Truth, sir,” said the valet, “they will trust Your Majesty no longer, nor myself neither; and we may both of us chance to be sent to jail this very night; and therefore I shall take care of myself, and so adieu.” Without his valet, the stranger approached the table where Gabrielle Émilie, known as Gustav, served. “Gentlemen,” said he, “I am not so great a prince as the rest of you, it is true, but I am, however, a crowned head. I am Theodore, elected King of Cartesia. I have had the title of Majesty, and am now hardly treated with common civility. I have coined money, and am not now worth a single ducat. I have had two secretaries, and am now without a valet. I was once seated on a throne, and since that have lain upon a truss of straw, in a common jail in London, blinded by my enemies, and I very much fear I shall meet with the same fate here in Sochi, where I came, like Your Majesties, to divert myself by the sea.”
At this Gabrielle Émilie, found herself surprised as she barely did recognize her own father, who in tatters, resembled more a pauper that a prince anointed by the hand of God. So startled was she that she had to excuse herself a moment to compose herself, while Theodore recounted his story of woe. From a distance Gabrielle Émilie, here known as Gustav, listened intently to her father’s tale. The other four nobles listened, as well, to this speech with great attention; it excited their compassion; each of them made the unhappy Theodore a present of twenty sequins, and Gabrielle Émilie gave him a diamond, worth a hundred times that sum.
After they had finished their meal, each servant approached and said, “Your Majesty may set off when you please;” saying which, they went away like the rest. Just as they rose from table, “Who can this private person be,” said the four monarchs to one another, “who is able to give, and has actually given, a hundred times as much as any of us?” The last to leave was the poor Theodore with nothing to lead him but the click-clack of his cane. Turning to the sound of Gabrielle Émilie collecting the dishes Theodore, spoke one last time, “I had a daughter once…a fair princess was she…When I held the world in my hand, I knew not what I held, and perhaps young man, you think me mad, but in the woods where I now sleep, I hear her laughter in the rush of a mountain stream. I feel her gentle touch in the breeze. I should have listened and been a father more; and less of a king.”
“I beg you kind sir, forgive the ramblings of an old man, I have none to turn to and my heart is saddened by her pain and tears that fall like rain on turned down leaves. She is the air I breathe, and the dust and sage upon my feet. She is the wild flowers spread along the valley floor, and the ancient pine high upon a mountain’s peak. Her memory warms me so; I once could spy upon a winter sunset clear, her hair was the crown of the sun’s fiery glow; and the blush upon her cheek was the sun’s face upon the snow. Only now, that my sight has been taken, do I truly see what I have lost. Thank you for your kindness, dear sir. I will trouble you no more.” With that Theodore left and was never seen again.
That night, Ishmael entered Gabrielle Émilie’s room, their secret hidden behind a locked door. She rose slowly from the bath, her guise undone, she revealed her sex to her lover. He beheld her as if her beauty was the moon uncloaked by the skies. The roaring fire in the room sparkled on her wet skin like she was cloaked in stars. He slipped from his soiled clothes and stepped into the bath, and both again settled into the warm water while Gabrielle Émilie slowly washed Ishmael’s body. There was a profound silence between the two. At length Ishmael broke it by saying: “I gaze upon your furrowed brow, mi amore, and I read your troubled looks like Master Galileo reads the stars. What troubles you so?”
Gabrielle Émilie took a breath before she spoke, “I saw four noble monarchs who once claimed, as my father did, a divine right to rule, yet here they where in this of least noble tavern, spurned by fate and fortune. If it is true what my father has said, that his rule was the will of God, then how does this cruel fate befall them all, if all and each are indeed a manifestation of God’s Holy Will on earth?”
Ishmael answered, “Have we not suffered the same turns of fate as they have? To rise and fall as if we were but a vessel afloat on the sea of fate; so helplessly rising with one wave and falling with the next? What of the poor souls in distant Vienna where we beheld the bloody shreds and cinders of our race - this child and mother heaped in common wreck, these scattered limbs beneath the marble shafts - a hundred thousand whom the earth devours, who, torn and bloody, palpitating yet, entombed beneath their hospitable roofs, in racking torment end their stricken lives. To those expiring murmurs of distress, to that appalling spectacle of woe, will you reply: ‘Lay down your lives in peace; For the world’s good your homes are sacrificed?’ Say you, with robe and crown, over that yet quivering mass of flesh: ‘Dieu et mon droit! The wage of sin is death?’ What crime, what sin, had those young hearts conceived that lie in wounded
“What speech to hold the victims to such rut! Dearest Émilie, add not, such cruel outrage to their pain. No, press not on my agitated heart this iron and irrevocable law: that God holds the chain, and is not himself enchained; by indulgent choice is everything arranged. Implacable he’s not, but free and just. Why then should we suffer under one so just? There is the knot your thinkers should undo.”
At this Gabrielle Émilie embraced her sweet lover and laid her head upon his shoulder and said softly, “Had not my master, de Sans-Terre, been here,” replied Gabrielle Émilie, “he would have given us most excellent advice, in this predicament; for he was a profound philosopher.”
“The wise deceive us,” was Ishmael’s reply, “Indeed; history is nothing more than a tableau of crimes and misfortunes. Me thinks this world needs more gardeners tending their gardens than philosophers who cry this spot is too rocky and that too many weeds! All sects are different, because they come from men; morality is everywhere the same, because it comes from God. Trust in that rather than the philosophers, who on bended elbow cry, ‘All’s well,’ and bemoan the ruin of the world, but stirs not from their shaded spot to help lift their common man. Animals have these advantages over us: they never hear the clock strike, they die without any idea of death, they have no theologians to instruct them, their last moments are not disturbed by unwelcome and unpleasant ceremonies, their funerals cost them nothing, and no one issues lawsuits over their wills.”
With that Gabrielle Émilie chuckled. His humor lifted her from her most serious state and gave repose to her burdened heart. ‘Tis true, she thought, in wounded Vienna, an impoverished family of Jews shared their humble meal; and what of the two friends and companions, Shamhat and Enkidu, whose very love binds both in common what their religion serves to part; and our benevolent master and landlord, dear Fyodor, who neither a Calvanist, Orthodox nor a Papist be, exercises the perfect form of charity.
Finding peace of mind the two retired to her bed and they coupled as they had many nights before in soft embraces and tender folds.
And so, the two, along with their companions enjoyed in good Fyodor’s hospitality a pleasant existence though they were by no means rich, their beds were warm when the nights were cold and their crowns were dry and their bellies full. Though the work was hard at times, their rewards were fair and just as was their host and patron, and at night each retired in the arms of their lover who in turn returned many amorous advances with equal zeal. Thus winter gave way to spring, and spring in turn to summer.
At the expiration of six and two months, there was a great flourish of drum and fife that came from without. A great crowd gathered outside and there were many excited voices that could be heard. Upon the sound of trumpets, an officer and a sergeant from the nearby fort of Alexandriya entered the tavern which they found to be filled with patrons. The soldiers brought word that the Georgian
The sergeant took his turn, pointed a finger at the crowd of men, “Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be free!” The sergeant then jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at the crowd outside and the sound of the drums and fife, “Do you hear yon people sing? They sing a song of angry men! It is the music of a people who will n'er be slaves again. When the beating of thy heart echoes the beating of the drums; there is a life about to start when the morrow comes!”
At this several men stood up and gathered around the officer, who then spoke more earnestly and with great zest, “Will you give all that thee posses, so that our banner might advance? By God's wounds, for I am an honest man, some will fall and some will live; will thou stand up and take a chance!” There was a great furor as the crowd rose to swell the ranks of the army. The sergeant laying eyes upon the able Ishmael behind the bar said to his officer, “Faith, comrade,” said one of them to the other, “yonder is a well made young fellow and of the right size.” Upon which they made up to Ishmael and with the greatest civility and politeness inquired about his willingness to join their noble cause.
To which Ishmael responded, “All murderers are punished unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets. My good fellows I have fought those who I do not hate, and defended those I do not love. I have been to the end of the path you follow and found glory wanting.”
Alarmed the officer asked, “Are you no patriot, sir? That you are not stirred by the prospect of barbarians at our gates!”
Ishmael again replied, “I have seen all manners of barbarians, and in all forms of habit, with wooden spear and jungle garb as well as powdered wig and royal crest.”
The officer cautiously studied the man before him and Ishmael met his gaze steadily. Without a word the officer placed a small purse of coins before Ishmael, who weighed it in his hands. “Gentlemen,” Ishmael said smiling, “I am your man.”
“Bravo!” cried the officer; “Are you a Swiss or Hessian? Never mind, you are now in His Majesty’s Service!”
As the officer led the crowd of men outside singing patriotic songs, Gabrielle Émilie also known as Gustav, tried to follow the crowd, as she was afraid that she would once again lose her sweet Ishmael, when she was approached by the sergeant, mistaking her as a man, inquired of Gabrielle Émilie who gave her name as Gustav Émilie, “Have you not a great affection for His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of all the Russians?”
To which Gabrielle Émilie responded, “With all my heart, dear sir.”
“Bravo!” cried the sergeant; “You are now the prop, the defender, the hero of the Empire; your fortune is made; you are on the high road to glory!”
Before they left for the fort to beginning their training, both spoke to Enkidu and Shamhat to stay with dear Fyodor until their return to which both agreed. Gabrielle Émilie gave her last gold ring to Fyodor to pay for Shamhat and Enkidu’s board, but instead Fyodor stated, “Do not worry, my dear Gustav,” As that is what Gabrielle Émilie was known as, “I shall keep this only for safe-keeping, and you shall find both your friends and this ring in good repair upon your return.”
Once at the fort, Gabrielle Émilie, who is now Private Gustav Émilie, found army life grim and brutal, but took well to keep her secret safe. There she was made to wheel about to the right, to the left, to march; not being familiar with the musket as Ishmael had not been acquainted with such a weapon, she was also made to draw her rammer, to return her rammer, to present, to fire; and they gave her thirty blows with a cane; the next day she performed her exercise a little better, and they gave her but twenty; the day following she came off with ten, and was looked upon as a young fellow of surprising genius by all her comrades. She then attained the rank of Corporal Gustav.
However, one fine spring evening, Gabrielle Émilie took it into her head to take a walk, and had not gone above two leagues when she was overtaken by four other heroes, six feet high, drunk and jealous of her good fortune sought to act upon their jealous nature. If her secret was discovered a court martial shall surely sit upon her head, and fight off the brutes she did. Fortunately, they were heavily drunk and unsteady on their heels, and Gabrielle Émilie dispatched the lot in short order, but not without taking some blows herself. At the barracks where they slept, though her Ishmael was but a few feet away, she could not go to him, or him to her. She fought to maintain her composure and the urge to cry, though her body screamed in pain most unbearable.
The next morning, as she was made to serve tea to a group of officers who were planning the coming maneuvers against the Turks, she overheard some talk among the officers of the prudence of augmenting their forces with mercenaries and auxiliaries. Having heard this, the good Corporal Gustav, known as Gabrielle Émilie, interdicted, “My good sirs, if I may say, the scanty wisdom of man, on entering into an affair which looks well at first, cannot discern the poison that is hidden in it. Therefore, if he who rules a principality cannot recognize evils until they are upon him, he is not truly wise; and this insight is given to few. And if the first disaster to the
An officer of horse protested the intrusion, but the Commandant General of the Fort, silenced the officer and asked the young corporal to proceed at which Gabrielle Émilie, who was the young corporal, did so, “I wish to cite Cesare Borgia and his actions. This duke entered the
“In conclusion, Commandant General,” Gabrielle Émilie continued, “I wish also to recall to memory an instance from the Old Testament applicable to this subject. David offered himself to Saul to fight with Goliath, the Philistine champion, and, to give him courage, Saul armed him with his own weapons; which David rejected as soon as he had them on his back, saying he could make no use of them, and that he wished to meet the enemy with his sling and his knife. The arms of others either fall from your back, or they weigh you down, or they bind you fast.” At this all the officers stood in awe as Gabrielle Émilie, in the guise of Corporal Gustav, retold the battle of Vienna and the repulsion of the Turks and the most unholy heretics as if she stood next to the Marshall-Baron the entire time.
The commandant general, being a prince of great penetration, found, from what he heard of the young corporal, to be of worth, and bestowed upon the young corporal a lieutenancy. Grateful, the commandant general extended to the novice lieutenant, Gabrielle Émilie, an invitation to the officer’s ball at his palace on the eve of the army’s departure. Gabrielle Émilie, now Lieutenant Gustav, kindly accepted.
As the evening of the ball arrived, Gabrielle Émilie, arrived smartly dressed in an officer’s uniform; she was indeed a handsome specimen. Her sharp features and smooth chin was admired by the ladies as there was no stubble or beard or mustache to cause irritation. As an officer and a gentleman, she danced with distance with her partners so as not to raise suspicions, but this was also interpreted by the women as a sign of great restraint and chivalry on the part of the young lieutenant. As being formerly a princess with threescore and eleven quarterings in her coat of arms, she was exceptionally graceful on the dance floor and seemed to glide on a cushion of air as she danced.
It was not long before the young lieutenant was encircled by a covey of young ladies all enamored with the dashing officer – with flushed faces and wanting smiles they hovered around the lieutenant, giggling and laughing. One dared say from behind a fluttering fan, “So graceful on the dance floor…” and yet another, “With such a brilliant smile…” A third ventured to say, “such a handsome uniform…” as she reached to touch upon the lieutenant’s chest, which the lieutenant deftly parried and side stepped as if it were a sword point. As she did so, she was caught by another lady from behind, her soft hands on the lieutenant’s hips. The lady cooed in the young lieutenant’s ear, her breath warm and heavily perfumed, “Mmm, and so coy…” At this the lieutenant wheeled about and guardingly held her hands up as a chorus of “Ooohhhsss” trailed into giddy laughter. Gabrielle Émilie was surprised at the behavior of such refined women, clearly of noble stock, who acted like a pack of wolves encircling a wounded deer.
The lieutenant who was truly Gabrielle Émilie has had to guard her identity for several long months now, and suppressed many manners of emotions while in public for fear that to betray such frailty shall lead to her undoing. Particularly now that she found herself in the Service of His Imperial Majesty, deprived of even the small comfort of Ishmael’s embrace, she had but herself to depend on. Unbeknownst to the lieutenant, the Commandant General watched from afar, accompanied by the Princess Sofia Holstein-Gottorp-Eutin, the Commandant General’s cousin and Abbess of the nunnery at Stiftsdamen, which was three days ride north from the fort. Abbess Sofia spoke first, “My dear cousin, who is the young lieutenant that I spy upon that so coyly plays with the young ladies?”
With professional detachment, the good General replied to his cousin, “Gustav something or a rather,” he waved a cigar brandishing hand in the air, tracing smoke trails like banners in the air. “They found him in a tavern on the wharf in Sochi and he distinguished himself in drill and marksmanship; a master of his own emotions, I have myself seen him take a beating that would have made a lesser man weep like a babe;” Then taking a long slow drag off of his cigar, he seemed to be distracted by his own smoke circles, allowing his dear cousin to hang on his last word.
“Come now, dear cousin, do not toy with me…” Abbess Sofia pleaded.
“Ah, yes, of course. My apologies dear lady.” A wry smile spreading beneath his fine mustache. “He caught my attention one morning while serving tea at my quarters, and demonstrated an exceptional and most excellent grasp of military prowess that I saw it fit to bestow upon him a lieutenancy.”
Fanning herself with her own fan to hide her own impish smile, “The poor wretch has gotten himself surrounded and is in need of some rescue.”
“Indeed. He would find more mercy at the hands of the Turks!” The general said with chuckle.
At which, the Abbess-Princess gave him a playful tap with her closed fan, “Now, cousin, do not be so cruel!” She then crossed the ballroom and scattered the clucking ladies with a clap of her hands. “Really, ladies, give the man some room to breath or I fear you should suffocate the brave soldier and rob the empire of his brave service.” At this the covey of beauties, giggling still, went on the prowl to find yet another young officer to toy with.
With a gallant bow, the Lieutenant thanked her rescuer, “Madame, I am in your debt.”
“I should hope so. Gustav, is it not? My dear cousin’s men has seemed to turn you from an errant tavern boy to a proper officer in due speed.” The Abbess stated as she eyed the lieutenant from heel to crown.
“I am thankful to the commandant general for his confidence in my abilities.” Gabrielle Émilie politely replied.
“But nonetheless, it was your abilities that won his eye. As it is your handsome features that has won mine. Would you be so kind as to escort me in the garden for a stroll? The air in here has grown a bit stale.”
Wrinkling her button nose, and fanning herself, she took the young lieutenant’s arm and they strolled out onto the veranda and then into the garden below it. As they departed the ballroom, the Abbess-Princess gave her cousin a backward glance and a sly wink, softly touching her blushed cheek with her closed fan. The Commandant General chuckled to himself and plumes of smoke eloped from his mouth, as he laid his fore finger along his nose.
There they engaged in polite conversation, she found, from what she heard of the young lieutenant, that he was a young metaphysician and philosopher, and intrigued, the Abbess Sofia engaged the young lieutenant in the following discourse.
“Men,” said the young lieutenant, recalling what she had witnessed at
“All this was indispensably necessary,” replied Abbess who herself was learned as well, “for private misfortunes are public benefits; so that the more private misfortunes there are, the greater is the general good.”
The lieutenant agreed in part, that she had learned the same as well from her childhood tutor, the scholar and master barber de Sans-Terre, but the lieutenant, who is Gabrielle Émilie in truth, spoke more plainly, “Come, ye philosophers, who cry, ‘All’s well,’ And contemplate this ruin of a world. A hundred thousand whom the earth devours, in wounded
“When earth its horrid jaws half open shows, my plaint is innocent, my cries are just. Surrounded by such cruelties of fate, by rage of evil and by snares of death, fronting the fierceness of the elements, sharing our ills, indulge me my lament. ‘Tis pride,’ ye say— ‘the pride of rebel heart, to think we might fare better than we do.’ Go, tell it to Vienna’s stricken banks; search in the ruins of that bloody shock; ask of the dying in that house of grief, whether ‘tis pride that calls on heaven for help and pity for the sufferings of men. ‘All’s well,’ ye say, ‘and all is necessary.’ Think ye this universe had been the worse without this hellish war in wounded
Speechless, the Abbess stopped in her tracks, and turned and confronted the young lieutenant, whose moving speech and passioned tone had stirred within the Abbess her own passions. Unaware of her affects on her fellow woman, Gabrielle Émilie, who is guised as the lieutenant, was confounded by her companion’s actions, and looked upon the flushed countenance of her host and mistress, whose breasts heaved with shallow and excited breaths.
Confused and with wrinkled brow and the most sincere concern, Gabrielle Émilie, asked, “My Lady, have I caused some offense?”
Without a word, the Abbess leaned forward to press her lips against the young lieutenant’s, who in truth was a woman herself, and in addition, the abbess also reached to place her hands upon the lieutenant’s chest to support herself. At this, ever guardful of her secret, Gabrielle Émilie, stumbled back, her eyes wide enough to swallow the moon itself. In her haste, the young lieutenant fell over a bench and tumbled onto the earth. Collecting himself or rather herself, Gabrielle Émilie, guised as the young lieutenant, righted herself and bidding a quick retreat excused herself, “I must take my leave My Lady…the army leaves at dawn, and I have preparations yet to make for my troops…I thank you for your kindness and hospitality…Good day…er, good evening.” With a smartly executed wheel about, the young lieutenant rushed from the premises with her heart hammering at her throat as if the Turks were already on her heels.
Undiscouraged, the Abbess smiled mischievously, and thought to herself, the young lieutenant would prove to be more of a challenge than she thought. As the flustered lieutenant faded into the night, the Abbess strode confidently towards the ballroom where she would search for her good cousin the Commandant General.
The next morning, the army gathered in smart formations. Gabrielle Émilie, in a lieutenant’s field uniform and pack, inspected her troops along with her sergeant, Ishmael. Having distinguished himself as well, but had not received a commission as his sweet lover had managed. It had been a bitter torment for both, to be so close and not able to take each other in embrace or taste each other’s flesh. As they moved through the ranks and files of Fusiliers, they would steal little moments when her hands would brush against the other’s, each touch sending ripples of agonizing ecstasy through out her ram-rod stiff body. She could feel her nipples harden and press against the cotton gauze she used to bind down her breasts, yet she maintained her cool composure as she inspected each soldier under her command.
In the near distance, unknown to both Ishmael and Gabrielle Émilie a conspiracy was afoot, a beautiful carriage rolled upon the parade grounds and the commandant general rode up on his stallion and greeted his peering cousin’s face with a smile. “My dearest cousin, are you sure this is what you want?” toying playfully with her.
“Absolutely. He is simply delicious!” replied the Abbess.
“Hhhmmm…” the commandant general tugged at his chin, feigning to give it considerable thought, “I am most impressed with his faculties and command of tactics…however, the poor lad can not even manage to grow a decent mustache, and what kind of officer can he be?”
The Abbess reached out and playfully batted the commandant general’s thigh, “Come now, Willie, don’t be so mean! You have many officers just as competent.”
“Very well, my dear, I will go and fetch him for you…” and the commandant general rode towards the Lieutenant’s regiment. The commandant general spoke to colonel of the regiment, who spoke to a major, who called for a captain, who spoke to two lieutenants, the last of which sent the regimental sergeant major to fetch the young lieutenant Gustav, who in truth was Gabrielle Émilie. Lieutenant Gustav had not completed her inspections as of yet, but did not want to keep the commandant general waiting. She followed the sergeant major, with Ishmael in tow, and the sergeant major then presented him to the lieutenant who then took her to another who in turn presented her to the captain who escorted her to the major, who introduced her to the colonel of regiment who finally presented her to the commandant general.
After an exchange of smartly executed salutes, the commandant general spoke directly to the lieutenant, “I have been most impressed with your soldiering skills as well as your sharp intellect, I fear I will be losing a most brilliant officer,” As the commandant general took a pause, fear began to well up in the pit of the lieutenant’s stomach as she fought to keep her knees from buckling. Frantic thoughts raced through her mind behind her cool façade and composed countenance. She wanted so desperately to gaze back at Ishmael who stood directly behind her, but fought the urge. The commandant general stared into the lieutenant’s serene blue eyes searching for weakness and vacillation, having found none, continued, “I have a most urgent mission for you to undertake, that I would consider a personal favor to not only myself, but my uncle the King of Sweden as well. I wish you to escort my dear cousin, the Abbess Princess Sofia, to her Abbey at Stiftsdamen. What say you?”
What could she say - thought Gabrielle Émilie. She could not bear to be separated from her dear Ishmael. To be parted once again like
“Very good then. The major here has your orders and you will present it to the garrison commander at the abbey upon you arrival. I am counting on you to ensure my cousin’s safe passage.” The commandant general remarked as he waved the major forward.
“Aye sir, no harm shall befall her on my watch.” Was Gabrielle Émilie’s retort. She then asked, “Sir, may my sergeant accompany me on this mission?” She felt Ishmael’s eyes burning into her bare neck.
The commandant general replied sternly, “I am afraid not, Lieutenant, I will need every able bodied man for the siege of Sokhumi.”
Fearing her voice would crack, she wheeled about and faced Ishmael, and issued her order : “Carry on with the inspection sergeant, and Godspeed.” Ishmael simply saluted and faced about and marched toward the regiment. Gabrielle Émilie’s heart sank into her boots at the sight.
So it was to be once again. The army with her sweet Ishmael marched south to avenge the indignity suffered by their Christian brethren in
As she traveled northward, she cursed her fortune in her thoughts. UNHAPPY mortals! Dark and mourning earth! Thought the sweet Gabrielle Émilie, is she doomed never more to see the handsome Ishmael? What will it avail her to prolong her wretched life that must be spent far from him in remorse and despair? And then what will the journal of Trevoux say? Was the poor maiden’s lament. All seemed settled in kind Fyodor’s tavern, why did it all turn so badly? If only her tutor the learned Master Philosopher Sans Terre were alive, perhaps he could explain this most unfortunate turn of events in this the best of all worlds.
Although not described as either beautiful or intelligent by her detractors, the Abbess had a striking figure and as Abbess was mistress superior and head of the convent of women at Stiftsdamen, she played an active part in the ceremonial court life of her older brother, the crown prince, and as several of her younger brothers was not married, she was an eager participant in the vivacious pleasures of the court despite her supposed lack of beauty. Her father, the reigning monarch of
For the young lieutenant, Gabrielle Émilie, the journey in the Abbess’ carriage was a difficult and trying experience as she was accompanied by two of her Ladies-in Waiting who was part of the pack of wolves that had encircled her earlier at the ball. Badin, the Abbess’ black servant-butler, who was originally a slave of her mother’s, rode with the driver up front.
Always on her guard, Gabrielle Émilie felt she had to have her wits about her at all times. At one point, on the first day of the journey the Abbess had fallen asleep and her head rested on Gabrielle Émilie’s shoulder and her lilly white hand rested softly on the lieutenant’s thigh.
The lieutenant felt as if she couldn’t even breathe for fear that the slightest jolt would uncover her delicate and dangerous charade. Gabrielle Émilie could feel the warmth of her touch through her uniform’s trousers, and it made her ache even more for Ishmael’s touch. She could not stop the memories of their secret dalliances at the Dancing Bear. She tried to suppress such things, as if a dam had bust inside of her, and the emotions rushed forth flooding her mind, the warmth of the touch seemed to spread from her thigh like a fire raging wild consuming every cell of her body. How long has it been since she had felt the warmth of another’s touch. She felt her nipples harden and press against the taunt gauze under her uniform and her womanhood moisten at the thought. She was losing control and panic started to swim among the swelling flood waters inside of her. The two Ladies-in-Waiting giggled from behind fluttering fans as they watched her slip into the abyss. Her breathing became rapid and shallow and she could feel her face start to blush. She felt as if she was about to burst into flames and consume the entire carriage.
Then her reprieve came with the sudden jolt of the carriage as they stopped at a local tavern for the evening. The sudden motion had startled the Abbess who awoke with the jolt of the carriage, and lifted her hand from the lieutenant’s thigh. As if
It was the first time she had been allowed to be by herself, and she quickly stripped off her uniform as if the fabric was on fire. Every part of her body seemed to tingle with each touch - mind and body conspired against her – suppressed memories surfaced from her subconscious as the warmth of the ale slowly melted her inhibitions away. First, was the night in the forest when every touch from Ishmael felt like a lightning strike sparking a wildfire within her soul; she slowly slipped her hand between her creamy thighs.
Do you feel it? The words echoed in her mind; as she cupped her breast with her other hand, her thumb and forefinger finding her erect pink nipple. A gentle squeeze sent a lightning bold thundering through out her body. She let out an uncontrolled yelp as her knees almost buckled.
The slow subtle sensations of ecstasy ebbing and flowing with the cosmic tides of your soul…
She could feel him. He was all around her rising through the ages up through the earth through her palms and up still through her arms and legs. That energy that drove at the very core of her soul. She felt it on every bead of sweat that formed on her flushed pink skin; its sweet release rose up from her like steam in the cool dark stillness of her room. He was all around her; his breath warm on her skin. She was a virgin again and these feelings raged in her like a wildfire consuming her soul. She tried to resist but could not - would not. She would have her release.
Breathe it in. Yes. Again. Breathe it in. Every breath intensifies those sweet, subtle sensations…so exquisite…so magnificent…so divine…so cosmic…yes, breathe it in and let it go.
Then she recalled the Marshall of Vienna, and how he, twenty years her senior, heaved her upon the sturdy table, on which once the good Pope and Holy Father took his meal, and lavished her with amorous kisses and with the vigor of a woodsman splitting wood he pricked her sweet lair. She arched her back and rolled her head back and a moan rose from her throat like hot lava up a vent of a volcano.
Do you feel it? Asked the
Do you feel me? Oh, yes.
Then there was that night in the snow covered woods in Ishmael’s tent with crazed and furtive clutchings they moved against each other with the ebb and flow rhythm of ancient tides...He a sailor and she his wild sea! She could taste his salt sweet wash as her lips as her hips rocked the hammock rock of the ancient seas, while storm tossed waves gathered and rose within her like towering giants only to fall crashing upon her soul.
Breathe it in. It’s all around you. It’s subtle, and sometimes it is the most subtle , sexual sensations that’s the most powerful. Breathe it in. It’s everywhere. That ecstasy is all around you and you don’t have to do anything ~ just lay there and let it go.
Just let it go. Ishmael’s voice dreamily floated in the air.
There was that night she had spied secretly upon Shamhat and Enkidu in the farmhouse. In silvery moonlight, Shamhat unclutched her bosom and exposed her sex, and Enkidu took in her voluptuousness and he laid upon her. He was unrestrained and wild; but she took his energy. Their bodies writhed in the moonlight as if they were one and his lust groaned over her.
Gabrielle Émilie began to rock her hips and pushed up against her hand. A musician plays the sweetest melody on the instrument she knows best. Her mind was swimming with mad desire, while a tempest gathered within her. He body began to shudder uncontrollably as one last great wave rose from the depth of her soul. It rolled towards her like a typhoon or winter storm rolling across the
Do you feel it?
Yes.
Can you feel me?
Oh yes.
You are exquisite…
You are magnificent…
You are divine…
You are ecstacy…
You
Are
Sex.
At the moment a wave of ecstasy came crashing down on her squeezing all the air out of her lungs in a deep lusty moan that sounded like rolling thunder. Unable to stay upright any longer, Gabrielle Émilie folded into her bed; her deft fingers applying pleasure strokes so exquisite it was as if they spoke the language of sex themselves. She struggled to catch her breath as erotic oblivion threatened to engulf her from below. Her entire body shuddered as the building wave of pent up sexual angst came crashing down on her, her mind was swimming in delirious ecstasy as erotic thunderbolts flashed in her mind over a storm tossed sea, her body rising and falling with ever sweeter, smaller body tremors that followed as subsequent waves of ecstasy spread across her naked body.
A deep soft voice floated in the air, You are exquisite…Oh, yes, mistress, I’d really like that…
The voice seemed to fill the room and echo off the walls. Gabrielle Émilie did not know if it was from her wild imaginings or not. There was a dark figure that stood in the doorway. In her haste she had forgotten to bolt the door or light a candle. She tried to summon every last scrap of her self-possession , but her lips could not form the words as erotic thoughts flashed in her mind in bright white flashes as waves of desire, driven by passionate winds rose and fell within her. She caught broken images of the dark figure that moved like a distant mountain around her in between flashes of erotic explosions, her body twisted and writhed as her skilled fingers played her body like a finely tuned instrument.
Gabrielle Émilie felt the dark figure press down on top of her in the heady darkness of her room. Her soft thighs began to quiver as another orgasm bore down on her. He whispered in her ear, his lips caressing her skin as he spoke. “Do you feel it?”
“What?!? I…um…” The words tumbled out of her mouth as if the words had tripped over her quivering lips.
“Do you feel me?” He repeated.
His massive frame dwarfed her rose pink figure as if a dark shadow was cast upon her. He slipped between her thighs which offered no resistance, as he parted her pubic bush, opening her sticky, engorged lips, and entered her. Gabrielle Émilie gasped, her warm spit spraying his cheek, as electrical charges raced up her spine and through out her body and a new round of hot white erotic flashes expoloded in her mind.
“Oh, yes, mistress, I’d really like that…”
Breathe it in. Yes. Again. Breathe it in. Every breath intensifies those sweet, subtle sensations…so exquisite…so magnificent…so divine… yes, breathe it in and let it go. Echoed in her head.
Her hand reached around the small of his back and slid up his muscled back, her fingers digging into his flesh as he thrust his body against hers and she pushed up against him. The words finally came, “That’s wonderful!” She exclaimed as her hand sticky with her own juices touched upon his dark face; tracing his strong cheek bones that rose from the plain of his face like rough hewn granite mountains. She could feel patterned scarring that ran across his face and the wide ridge of his nose. His powerful jaw line was taunt and his full lips were soft in sharp contrast to the rest of his features. He softly sucked her juices from her wondering fingers, as their bodies danced to an ancient rhythm. Her eyes tried to focus in the darkness and as he leaned closer to kiss her, she recognized who this dark figure was - it was Badin, the Abbess’s servant-slave. His full lips softly kissed her quivering ones with such tenderness as if it was almost removed from the wild thrusts of their bodies which took on an urgency of its own as their own climaxes approached.
Let it go. She arched her back to take him in one last time; her body shuddered against his, as he in turn spilled into her churning sea.
Badin was the first to approach the table where the ladies along with the Abbess sat and dined. “Mesdames, the Lieutenant Gustav Émilie.” At the introduction, Gabrielle Émilie, descended from the stairs and approached the table where a place had been set for her. She had some difficulty walking, but managed the best she could. As she approached the head of the table, Badin pulled out her seat for her. Before taking her seat she addressed the ladies, “My deepest apologies, my Ladies.” At which she bowed slightly at the waist before continuing, “I am afraid the journey exhausted me more than I thought. I was fast asleep when your servant Badin came upon me.” At which she flashed a polite smile to the Abbess. “If Badin had not roused me from my slumber, I fear I would have slept through the night.” At which she gingerly sat upon the chair Badin held out for her. As Badin guided the chair beneath the lieutenant, his breath warmed the smooth skin of the nape of the lieutenant’s neck, sending goose bumps racing down her spine and set her thighs to quivering; yet, neither betrayed anything in their composure. Once Gabrielle Émilie, lieutenant and chief escort to the Abbess Princess, was seated, Badin stepped to the left of the Abbess. She then dismissed him with a wave of her hand, and he took his place by the driver at a separate table.
The Abbess Sofia had her suspicions of the young lieutenant, though she was not entirely sure. She was certainly taken by the soft innocence of his features, but there was an intensity that shone from his deep blue eyes like a thousand splendid suns. He had a sharp intellect as well, the heated discussion at her cousin’s ball was not only well argued and equally defended, it stirred in the Abbess feelings that very few men had managed before. She certainly regarded the lieutenant most pleasing to her eyes, and assumed him to be physically passionate, full of youthful vigor, but the passion of his sharp intellect caught her off guard. Because of her brother’s royal standing and her cousin’s high rank, most officers tended to play it safe and simply mimicked her opinions like trained parrots in their colorful uniforms and bright plumage. Yet, this lowly lieutenant, challenged her like a Catalonian matador de toros. She recalled how his eyes sparked with fiery intellect when he argued against her in the garden; how his blue eyes bore into her very soul. She was the first to speak of the three ladies. “I must beg the lieutenant’s forgiveness for falling asleep on your shoulder in the manner I did. It was very un-lady like. I am deeply…”
The lieutenant, who is truly the fair Gabrielle Émilie, cut the Abbess off with a wave of her hand, “Think nothing more of it, My Lady, and I will suffer none to hear of any apologies arising from it. Je suis a vous, Madame. I am at your service. Your sweet countenance upon my shoulder is a burden I would gladly bear.” At this, Gabrielle Émilie allowed a polite smile to crease her lips, as a bowl of stewed lamb and a crumble bread was served upon her. She was famished and she had worked up quite an appetite, and it required all her inner strength not to devour the entire helping at once. It was not quite as good as Shamhat’s who covered the lamb with flour and fried it in bacon fat first; but she was hungry and the meal was hot and filling. At least it was not mutton. She also found the bread to be stale, but once crumbled over the stew it was tolerable.
The Abbess allowed the lieutenant several spoonfuls before resuming the conversation. She wished to test the lieutenant and an impish smile creased her lips as she turned to one of her companions and posed a question to her maiden, “My dear Ophelia, have you by chance read Monsieur de Meun's work ‘The Romance of the Rose’?”
Lady Ophelia responded, giggling like mischievous imp, “Why yes, My Lady, a delightful read it was. The poem recounts the dream of a man, who in his youth, falls in love with and tries to win a Rosebud -- the symbol, at various points, of both the woman and subject of the young man’s fancy, and of her fledgling virtue.”
Lady Cunegonde, the other maiden, added, “Monsieur de Meun is widely admired for his erudition and learning, which he attributes to the Latin poets Tibullus, Gallus, Catullus and Ovid.”
Gabrielle Émilie slowly chewed her food as she carefully studied each of three ladies before her. She then cleared her throat. She spoke cautiously sensing she was being baited, “My Ladies, as a gentle man, I must warn you that such talk is best suited for the privacy of your own salons and not a public tavern.” She then took a sip of wine and continued on, “But if you good ladies insist upon hearing my opinion, I offer this: The epic poem you speak of was in fact first penned by a Monsieur de Lorris, who may well have considered his poem to be complete; it was later usurped by Monsieur de Muen, whose continuation dwarfs and totally changes the character of the original poem. While Monsieur de Lorris’ half is respectful of women and imbued with the spirit of ‘courtly love,’ Monsieur de Muen's continuation is highly disrespectful of women - and extremely bawdy at times.”
Feigning indignance, Lady Ophelia touched her fingertips to her breast as she spoke once again, “My good sir, Monsieur de Meun is highly admired as an auctore who insisted, and continues still, upon the importance of books as instruments and repositories of knowledge which teach readers how to be noble and courteous.”
Intrigued once again, the Abbess Sofia, silenced her two companions with a flick of her delicate wrist. “Pray tell, my good lieutenant, what do you base such judgment on? Once, among my cousin’s hedgerows, you surprised me with your intellect and masterful defense, and now once again you have piqued my interest.”
“My Lady,” the young lieutenant said, “perhaps you see nothing more than a simple tavern boy beneath this uniform, and nothing more, but rest assured, I am well read. In my youth, I often sat alone in my father’s study surrounded by books on all kinds of subjects, devoting myself to literary studies, my usual habit, my mind dwelt at length on the weighty opinions of various authors whom I had studied in my youth. I looked up from a book, having decided to leave such subtle questions in peace and to relax by reading some smaller book. By chance a strange volume came into my hands, the very one you ladies speak of, but a copy of which had been given to me along with some others. When I held it open and saw its title page that it was by Monsieur de Muen, I smiled, for though I had never seen it before, I had often heard that, like other books, it discussed respect for women.”
The lieutenant paused and sipped her wine before she continued with her tale, “I started to read it and went on for a little while. Because the subject seemed to me not very pleasant for people who do not enjoy lies, and of no use in developing virtue or manners, given its lack of integrity in diction and theme, and after browsing here and there and reading to the end, I put it down in order to turn my attention to more elevated and useful study.” The lieutenant then paused once again and skewered a piece of lamb with her fork then leaned on a bended elbow and pointed the gravy laden morsel at the virtuous Lady Cunegonde. “But just the sight of this book, even though it was of no authority, made me wonder how it happened that so many different men - and learned men among them - have been and are so inclined to express both in speaking and in their treatises and writings so many wicked insults about women and their behavior.”
Here the lieutenant took a break to take in several spoonfuls of nourishment, and then continued, “Thinking deeply about these matters, I began to examine my character and conduct as a natural person and, similarly, I considered other women whose company I frequently kept, princesses, great ladies, such as yourselves,” again the lieutenant paused to seize upon each ladies’ eyes which all were raptly fixed upon the dashing lieutenant, “as well as women of the middle and lower classes, who had graciously told me of their most private and intimate thoughts, hoping that I could judge impartially and in good conscience whether the testimony of so many notable men could be true - such solemn scholars, possessed of such deep and great understanding, so clear-sighted in all things, as it seemed. It was then that I came across the works of Madame de Pizan, I find it surprising that a Lady of your noble standing, and Abbess and Head Mistress of a high institution of learning such as yourself would not have read of Madame de Pizan’s sharp critique of Monsieur de Muen. She penned three such critiques: L'Epistre au Dieu d'amours, Le dit de la Rose, Epistres du debat sur le Roman de la Rose, and Le Livre de la Cite des Dames. All four works expanded on and amplified the ideas coined in their predecessors, and attacked Monsieur de Meun's popular work as immoral, offensive and objectionable.”
Then locking eyes with the Abbess, Gabrielle Émilie, concluded her speech, “Without Tristan, which face to give to Iseut? Without Abélard, who would be concerned with Héloïse? And was Helen of Troy’s beauty withered by the shadow of the love struck
Here the lieutenant pressed on, talking at length, citing many instances of women who had high morals such as filial piety, wifely devotion, integrity, and generosity. She includes among her examples the Virgin Mary, Mary Magdalean, and a long list of female saints and martyrs cited in the holy texts. After wearying of such a long list of deserving women, the lieutenant breaks off and finishes with a prayer.
Raising her glass, the lieutenant recited the following prayer written by Madame de Pizan:
“Ah, Lady pure beyond compare,
Full of immeasurable grace,
God's mother, glorious and fair,
Who turneth a compassionate face
To those in need, look so on me
And find acceptable this plea!
Grant, Lady. what I most desire,
That thou, sweet Virgin, from thy Son,
A gift for Christendom require:
That all the world shall now put on
A garment made of peace, so spun
That it will clothe us, every one.
Ave Maria.”
Surprised, the Abbess applauded the recitation, and her accolade was so loud that it threatened to drown all other noises in the tavern, “Good word! This very prayer was taught to me by my Mistress Superior as I now teach it to my own students!” Finding just wisdom in what the lieutenant had said, and moved by her eloquence, Lady Cunegonde and Lady Ophelia nodded in agreement, and the Abbess, who sought to test the good lieutenant, was forced to concede, “My ploy you have masterfully undone; the snare I set to catch your foot, you have skillfully avoided. I admit, in our own study, we have Madame de Pizan’s complete works, including those you have cited.”
“Madame, it was a noble challenge,” Gabrielle Émilie replied with a smile, “and I enjoyed the duel, but it is not the first time I have found myself cornered by hounds… in wounded
The Abbess Sofia, quite taken by the young lieutenant’s passionate intellect, inquired of the lieutenant if she may have the pleasure of his company for an evening stroll. The lieutenant politely declined as she was still ‘tired’ from the journey and with some effort wobbled back to her room. Allowing the lieutenant to decline the invitation, the Abbess remarked of the wisdom of her cousin to select such a fine and learned officer to escort them to their abbey at Stiftsdamen. As the Abbess watched Gabrielle Émilie’s figure climb the stairway to her room, the Abbess once again wondered what secrets the lieutenant cloaked beneath his handsome tunic.
Safely in her room, Gabrielle Émilie made sure to bolt the door this time. As unexpected but deeply erotic and pleasurable her encounter with Badin was, she had no intentions of a repeat performance that night. She once again stripped her uniform and unbound her breasts and collapsed upon her bed with only Stella Martis as her company and soon was in deep slumber.
Gabrielle Émilie was startled awake by a loud crash and a gruff voice that demanded, “Where is the officer, wench?” Gabrielle Émilie sat up unable to speak as she struggled to see in the dark. She clutched the bed sheets to her chest with one hand and the Stella Martis with the other. “Je…je ne
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the second figure dart in as it drew a small dagger, the figure remained silhouetted in the frame of light making it easy for her to judge his distance and location. She drew the Stella Martis out of the first bandit, and swirled around in a graceful arc bringing her sword up and perpendicular to her body. There was a glint of steel and a shriek, as the dagger clattered to the floor. The dark shadowy figure, now headless, slumped to the floor as his head rolled out into the lighted doorway. Gabrielle Émilie, with great haste, donned her trousers and tucked in her night shirt, not having time to bind her breasts, and rushed bare footed out into the hallway with sword in hand.
As Gabrielle Émilie rounded the corner she came upon a third bandit who had his back to her. The bandit was yelling into Lady Ophelia’s open door. “Hurry, Sebastián, I fear our slow witted companions have been found!” As Gabrielle Émilie approached a weak floor board announced her presence and as she was about to run the bandit through, the bandit whirled about and parried her thrust and report. This was no simple bandit like the other two for this one fought with skill and form. Taken aback for a moment, Gabrielle Émilie found herself on the defensive and had to take two steps back, until she again regained her posture and pushed forward on the advance, the clang of steel on steel echoing in the empty hallway. They could hear hurried voices and footfalls rushing up the stairwell. Finding opportunity in her opponent’s distraction at the approaching noise, she was able to disarm the bandit with a downward slash and flick of her wrist, sending the bandit’s blade clattering to the ground. With several bounding steps and her blade at the bandit’s throat she pressed him to the wall.
In the struggle, the bandit’s hand fell upon Gabrielle Émilie’s unbound breasts and at that instant the two, standing face to face, saw recognition in each other eyes. Gabrielle Émilie was first to speak in a surprised and hushed voice, “LeGuen?!?” and he almost instantaneously said, “Ella?”
LeGuen lifted his head to the heavens, “Eternal lingering of useless pain! Poor doomed Donatien! If I had only listened to your counsel!” Then returning his gaze to Gabrielle Émilie, he pleaded with her, “Ella, ma bien-aimee, kill me this instant as I can not bear to live anymore! I have lost the treasury entrusted to me and every man in my command and alas, I have failed you, my princess, and our beloved king – Unhappy mortals! Once was I a noble officer in the king’s guard and now I have been force to resort to banditry as we do not have any coin to pay for our passage home!”
Still wary, she withdrew from LeGuen a few paces, but kept her sword point at his throat. She thought that he may have been once a Captain of the King’s Guard, but she had proof enough that his more recent company was not so redoubtable. At that moment, Elcano emerged from the Lady Ophelia’s room with her purse in hand. His blade and Gabrielle Émilie’s touched steel exactly four times and then Elcano’s blade lay on the floor along with LeGuen.
“Mercy, My Lady,” cried Elcano, “We only seek to gather enough to pay for our passage home!”
As the voices and excited shouts fast approached, Gabrielle Émilie pulled her own purse from her belt and tossed it to LeGuen. “Now, you have the means to travel home. Go and make a new life for yourselves and forget about me. Go! I assure you, your companions will not be joining you.”
At this, Elcano turned to run but LeGuen remained fixed in his spot. “The king is no more. My duty is to you, My Lady. My Queen.”
“As I told your man in
With that, Elcano pulled his companion by the sleeve. “Come, good sir, you must leave her!” Reluctantly, LeGuen, still clutching his cheek, followed his retreating companion down a back stairwell.
With the two brigands gone, she quickly composed herself and buttoned up her tunic. First the encounter with her blind father and now with Captain LeGuen. Both lives and fortunes of these men, and having no part in it, were turned by her decision in that meadow upon that starry night. Not withstanding, having arranged herself again, Gabrielle Émilie reflected upon the cause and effect, as well as into the sufficing reason that had reduced the fates and fortunes of these two men to so miserable a condition. Putting such musings aside, she rushed into Lady Ophelia’s chamber to find the poor girl crumpled at the floor.
The Abbess entered the room and was followed by Badin, who wore trousers, a boot and no shirt. “Poor child, she fainted dead away – she must have had a horrible fright!” As Badin lifted her from the floor and laid her upon the mattress. Lady Cunegonde arrived with a basin of warm water and a small towel. They were able to revive her with a spot of bad vinegar which was brought from the kitchen by the tavern keeper.
Badin turned to face Gabrielle Émilie and inquired of her, “Dear sir, are you alright?”
“I dispatched two in my room, but a third escaped with my purse, and I fear I could not prevent another from robbing the Lady Ophelia. The two bandits made off with our fortune, but not without a taste of my blade.” At this Gabrielle Émilie lifted the bloodied point of her sword. At the sight of blood, Lady Ophelia fainted away once again, as did Lady Cunegonde, spilling the basin.
“OUT!” Cried the Abbess, as she did her best to push the men out of the room and returned to reviving the two young maidens. The tavern keeper left to fetch more water with the empty basin, and the lieutenant and Badin retired to the empty dinning hall.
They sat in silence for some length, and it was Badin who broke the silence. “I do not know the reason for this masquerade. But by the work you left at your room, and though the two bandits did escape, they did so without their swords,” then Badin waved his large hand, that could easily crush a man’s skull, at the lieutenant’s tunic, “this is clearly no idle guise.”
“No sir, it is not.” Gabrielle Émilie’s blue eyes were hard and cold as the steel in her hands.
“In my native land, what your kind calls the ‘Heart of Darkness’,” Badin started, “we have such fierce warriors who are as you, though they do not seek to conceal their sex. I have, as a young man, seen their fierceness in battle, and trembled at their war-cry. In distant
Gabrielle Émilie softened her countenance, and was intrigued to hear of women warriors and leaders of state, “In my fair Cartesia and neighboring
“Truly, in my own village, Umuofia,” At the mention of his village’s name, Badin’s eyes seemed to cloud over as he spoke of his tribe’s ancient customs, “the god who, above all others, regulates life is Ani, the earth goddess. My people celebrated each new year with the Feast of the New Yam. This festival thanked Ani, who is the source of all fertility.”
Badin continued his tale of home, “My people worshipped gods who protect, advice, and chastise them and who are represented by priests and priestesses within each clan. The Oracle of the Hills and the Caves grants knowledge and wisdom to those who are brave enough to consult him. No person has ever seen the Oracle except his priestess, who is a woman who has special powers of her own. This priestess was my own mother. In my time, I became one of my nation’s ambassadors, traveling to many empires and courts in
Gabrielle Émilie was fascinated at this Badin who spoke flawlessly, if it weren’t for his insufferable Swedish accent. Recalling one of the Viscount’s lessons, Sans-Terre had used the Latin term ‘Homo Sylvestris’ to describe the uncivilized wild peoples of the world, she found that Badin was a contradiction to his teachings. The wise Sans-Terre had once said in arrogance that “Order is Heaven's first law; and this confessed, some are, and must be, greater than the rest,” thus she had been taught, that these wild peoples were considered beneath the European stock.
Still unsure if this man was someone worthy of trust, Gabrielle Émilie rose from the table. Right then, the Abbess entered the hall, and both men rose to their feet as was the custom of civilized gentlemen. She approached the lieutenant and spoke softly. “Lady Ophelia was not harmed physically. She rests for now, and Lady Cunegond will watch over her. She studied under Madame Perrone, one of
Cautiously backing away from the Abbess’ grip, the brave lieutenant gave a curt bow, bending at the waist, and simply replied, “Je suis a vous, madame. I am only thankful that the young miss escaped harm. If I may suggest, that we all retire to our chambers and seek what rest we may for tomorrow’s journey to Stiftsdamen.” And the three parted company.
The remainder of the journey proved uneventful though Lady Ophelia was still a bit pale from her dreadful fright the night before. Having never met a female physician, Gabrielle Émilie inquired of Lady Cunegonde where she had studied. The good Lady spoke of her studies in
Gabrielle Émilie listened as the Lady Cunegonde recounted the trial of Madame Perrone. Lady Cunegonde explained that she was present at her trial, “Surely, most notable was Madame Perrone’s excellent defense, during which she called several witnesses to testify to her skills.”
Gabrielle Émilie could not believe that such women existed and recalled the good viscount’s chastisement so many months ago, “I tell you every instant that you have wasted on those books is utterly and entirely lost. You have burdened your memory with trifle folly and useless names…”
Lady Cunegonde’s impassioned voice roused the lieutenant from her reverie, “The faculty at
Gabrielle Émilie in the guise of a Lieutenant, inquired what happened to Lady Physician. As she did so, the Abbess watched the lieutenant listen intently to Lady Cunegonde’s reply. Never had she ever seen a man take such an interest in the plight of a woman, or appear so sympathetic to their cause. Lady Cunegonde who had leaned forward upon her knees to tell her tale, then fell back in her seat and her face once so animated, grew somber with disappointment. “Alas, despite her brilliant defense, the faculty banned her from practice, she was denied access to her patients and students for the duration of the trial, and her medical books were confiscated.”
At this the Abbess, placed a sympathetic hand on Lady Cunegonde’s knee, “That is why our dear Lady Cunegonde came to our Abbey to continue her studies. We have in our faculty, the wonderful Madame Francisca Romano who had trained at a medical university, and won recognition and approval from Charles, Duke of Calabria.”
The pristine snowy landscape rambled by barely noticed by the passengers as they continued their discussion on a number of other topics of equal interest. By sundown, they had reached their appointed destination of Stiftsdamen. Upon arrival, Badin and the driver assisted the ladies with their baggage, as other faculty and students met them at the steps of Abbess Sofia’s residence at Arvfurstens Palats. Afterwards, the driver then took the lieutenant to the garrison just outside of Stiftsdamen. There the lieutenant, who was really Gabrielle Émilie, sharply presented herself to the regimental commander, a Colonel Werner Von Haussenpepper.
That evening at the grand hall there was a small reception at Arvfurstens Palats to celebrate the Abbess’ return. There was a sumptuous dinner after which the crowd retired to the parlor. Outside the snow silently fell about the garden and terrace. There was a fire glowed warmly for the fireplace as the crowd gathered around a harpsichord. As the fire crackled, Lady Ophelia then sat and played a sweet melody on its keys that had a directness and down-to-earth quality both in appearance and sonority with a characteristically powerful tone, a reedy treble and a sonorous bass. Moved by the music, Gabrielle Émilie disguised as Gustav, approached the Abbess and inquired of the music. “My dear, Gustav,” the Abbess responded, “the first piece was that of Herr Finck, who has served as conductor of the court orchestra for several successive kings of
Gustav, who was really Gabrielle Émilie, having never seen such an instrument then asked, “Dear Lady, might I inquire what sort of instrument the fair Lady Ophelia plays so well?”
The Abbess laughed with disbelief, “My dear Gustav, have you not seen a harpsichord? It is a Flemish invention and a gift from my Father, the King of Sweden.” The Abbess then asked Gustav, “Do you play an instrument, dear sir?”
Looking a little embarrassed, the Lieutenant shyly responded, “I am from a small kingdom south of
The Abbess laughed again, “How dreadfully medieval! Really, Gustav, you must learn whilst you are here. But until then, please play us a tune.” At this, one of the maidens in attendance retired from the room and returned with a lute. The Abbess then handed the instrument to the Lieutenant, who could not decline, and felt the eyes of the room upon her. Quite in character, she placed her goblet of brandy upon a table and placed her foot upon a chair, and balanced the lute upon her thigh. So long has it been since her early instructions that she struggled to remember the chords.
The Abbess chided her, “Come now, lieutenant, regale us with a song!”
The lieutenant then remembered a song several of Ishmael’s men had sung once around a campfire. “I know the lute, oft have I sung to thee: We are both out of tune... Go break this lute upon my coach’s wheel as the last music that I e’er shall make; not as my father’s gift, but my farewell in all earth's joys...” At this melody, the room broke out in laughter, and the Abbess, again taken by the lieutenant’s warm charm, touched her arm and whispered in her ear, “Well played my dear, but I have yet a surprise for you.”
Then, the Abbess smiled at a young maiden, who at the Abbess’ gesture stood along the harpsichord. The Abbess then clapped her hands to capture everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have among us the good Lieutenant Gustav Émilie, and a veteran of the Siege of Vienna.” Then waving her fanned hand at the young lady standing at the piano, “On our journey here, this brave knight of the Holy Emperor, saved the very lives of Lady Ophelia and Lady Cunegonde while we rested at a local inn. In his honor, we present our own angelic Lady Beatrice, who will accompany Lady Ophelia, she will sing for us Herr Von Bruck’s Ihr Christen allgleiche, which was written on the occasion of the Siege of Vienna, the very one our dear Gustav survived.” Lady Beatrice had an angelic voice and a face to match, pale and delicate.
After the stirring performance the crowd applauded the two ladies and many approached the Lieutenant much impressed with his service, including several of the regiment’s senior officers. Warmed by both the brandy and the fire, Gabrielle Émilie felt her face blush to have received such attention. Colonel Von Haussenpepper clapped his new officer heartily on the back, “Good show, Lieutenant. The Abbess has told me of her account and of your bravery. By day’s end on the morrow you shall wear the epaulets of a Captain. Congratulations, my good man!” The Colonel then turned to introduce a dark little man who from crown to foot, wore nothing but black. Gabrielle noticed that although the Colonel was smiling his eyes betrayed something else. To look into his eyes was like staring into the bottom of a dark well that gone dry years ago. “Come, now Herr Von Fockewülfe, a smile for our hero!” The dark little man stepped up to shake Gabrielle’s hand, as the Colonel introduced him, “This jolly fellow, Gustav, is the Reverend Father Count Hrodulf Von Fockewülfe. His family is one of the oldest clans in this region and resides in the Castle Verfluchter Todd.” There was no warmth or emotion in Fockewülfe’s face; just his dark and empty eyes staring up at her. At his handshake, Gabrielle felt a cold chill run the length of her spine. “We are honored to have at our disposal a hero of
As the Count turned to leave, the Colonel took the Lieutenant to the side, “Take heed of that most foul character, for he is an officer of the
At that moment, Gabrielle Émilie felt the soft warm touch of the Abbess upon his arm. “My dear Colonel, are you trying to scare our good Lieutenant away?”
“Not at all, My Grace,” was the Colonel’s reply “I believe it will take more than children’s faerie tales and old wives tales to weaken his resolve.” Then turning towards the Lieutenant, the Colonel said with a smile, “He will be a captain soon enough, and a fine captain he will make.” With a polite nod of his head to both, the Colonel excused himself. “It has been a lovely evening, My Lady, I thank you for your hospitality, but I must take my leave as I have matters to attend to in the morning. I will leave my officer in your charge.” He was shortly followed by his lesser officers and the other men. One officer, a Lieutenant as well, Loccraccio was his name, was seen in the company of one of the Ladies of the Abbess-Princess’ court. They were seen fondly admiring each other at dinner.
With that the Abbess took Gabrielle Émilie by the arm, “Come, my dear Gustav, let me introduce you to some of our faculty at Stiftsdamen.” She then led Gabrielle Émilie to a waiting crowd where she made the proper introductions. “You have met Lady Beatrice, who is the Mistress in charge of our musical instruction,” the Abbess nodded towards the pale and delicate woman who had played the Harpsichord with Lady Ophelia. Lady Beatrice in turn gave a proper curtsy. “May I also present to you, Lady Francisca, of whom we spoke of on our journey here. She instructs our young women in medicine and the healing arts as she was trained at a medical university, and won recognition and approval from Charles, Duke of Calabria.” Lady Francisca was a raven haired Italian with olive skin and almond colored eyes. The next to be introduced was a statuesque lady with fine features and emerald green eyes. “This is Lady Amelie, one of our own daughters, who has now risen to be one of our Mistresses. She is our resident mathematician.” Lady Amelie was the fair lady with whom the young Lieutenant was so fond of. And so, the Abbess introduced each member of the faculty, there was also an alchemist, a playwright, a philosopher and an astrologer. Each was just as impressive as the one that preceded her; each as learned in their education and field, but more so each was just as equally knowledgeable in the fields of the others.
For Gabrielle Émilie it was as if she had stumbled upon De Pizan’s City of
“Perhaps,” retorted Lady Etiennne, “but this play was written by one of the theater’s owners, a William Shakespeare.” A highly popular play it played to a full house every night up to its closing. “Such a shame,” lamented Lady Etienne, “as it was a nice theater in deed.”
Lady Cunnegonde who had been silent until now, sought to comfort with these words, “There is still the magnificent little Theater du Châtelet in Cirey. In it, I found the most beautiful and charming hostess, the Marquise le Tonnelier de Breteuil and her most delicious lover Monsieur le Docteur Ralph.” At that several of the other women laughed.
Another conversation, this time on the subject of astrology, was equally as interesting. Of which Gabrielle Émilie did know something about. A frail and slim little girl, who seemed by all accounts no older than her twelfth winter, inquired of the recent rumors she had heard of this Slav, Nicolai Copernici, who offered that the earth itself was not the center of the universe as we know it. Then Lady Anne who was the Mistress of Astrology, warned “Dear child, I would caution you to take heed in whose company you raise that topic. You are lucky our Most Reverend Custos Morum, the Keeper of Morals, Baron Von Fockewülfe has retired for the evening, lest you find yourself warming your toes by the Inquisitions’ fire.” An older student who sat at the harpsichord and was two winters the older than the first, spoke up as well, “The Holy Church has charged him with Heresy and my good aunt and patroness has told me that Signore Copernici’s work has been disavowed by the Holy Church.” The older child toyed with the harpsichord’s keys and added, “Anyway, he is not a Slav but a Prussian living in Royal Prussia, under the Poles.”
Lady Etienne lamented, “What has the Church to fear from science and nature?” Then as she shook her head woefully, added, “Science is a search for the facts and laws of nature. Religion is a spiritual quest for ultimate meaning and for moral values that science is powerless to provide. To echo Herr Kant and Herr Hume, science tells us what is, not what ought to be. Quite simply put, we study how the heavens go, and the holy church determines how to go to heaven.” The Abbess smiled at Lady Etienne’s play on words, and stepped forward and clapped her hands twice, “now, now dear children, we have created in this Abbey a model of Madame de Pisan ideal, we must encourage ourselves and our students to continue to seek education and knowledge wherever the source.” Then walking towards the younger child, she placed her hand ever so gently upon her crown. “Tell us, dear child, what you have learned of this Prussian?”
The young child spoke to the gathered ladies, “Herr Copernici studied under the learned scholar Herr Albert Brudzewski at the
Then the Abbess walked over to the twelve year old, speaking as she walked, “Very astute, my child.” The Abbess then glanced at Lady Anne, “A fine student you have in young Aria, Mistress Anne.”
Lady Anne responded, “Thank you, Canoness.”
The Abbess then turned her attention to the older child, “My dear Luisa, a child of the House of Medici, shall present her counter point.”
The young Miss Luisa then proceeded with her argument, “The Sacred Congregation of the Inquisition of the Holy Office has listed Signore Copernici’s assertions in the Index Librorum Prohibitorum as heresy as it opposes the teachings of the Holy Church on the grounds that Signore Copernici’s doctrine that the Earth revolved about an immobile sun was false and altogether opposed to Holy Scripture as set by holy decree by his Eminence, Pope Nicholas V.”
Luisa continued, “This was based upon the Greek Astronomer, Signore Ptolemy's models set out in the in his book Almagest. Signore Ptolemy adopted Signore Hipparchus' solar and lunar models. He further succeeded in creating models for the other planets as well, where Signore Hipparchus had failed, by introducing a device called the equant.”
Stroking the young Luisa’s curly raven colored locks, the Abbess looked down approvingly on her young charge, “See, my dear Gustav, the arguments as old as time itself. But what is important is the free discourse of ideas. We have in our library a copy of Herr Copernici’s treatise as well as a copy of Signore Ptolemy’s Almagest commissioned by his Excellency Fredrick II.” The Abbess then walked up to the Lieutenant, and asked, “What of you, dear Gustav? Have you naught to contribute on this matter?”
Thinking back to her lessons under the tutelage of the Master Barber Viscount Sans-Terre, Gabrielle Émilie recalled Monsieur de Sans-Terre’s reaffirmation of Ptolemaic systems, but she herself had long harbored reservations that she now felt safe to express. “Madame Canoness, while it is true that Signore Ptolemy greatly succeeded where the great Mathematician Hipparchus failed, as the ancient Greeks could not match the Babylonians’ accuracy. But by my own observations, Herr Copernici’s arguments hold some weight, for if the Earth did stand still and does not rotate on an axis as Signore Ptolemy suggests, and avowed by the Holy Church, then why does the sun rise and set at different points at winter and at summer?”
Gabrielle Émilie, not waiting for an answer, concluded, “It is without a doubt that my tutor, the Viscount de Sans-Terre, a man nourished on letters, was a wise man indeed, but this Copernici does hold some fascination for me as well. I would very much like to read his treatise someday.”
“An open mind, indeed,” applauded the Abbess. “Brave and daring,” added Lady Ophelia. “A handsome specimen as well,” was Lady Anne’s remark. The younger girls giggled at the comments. At that, the Abbess clapped her hands, and announced that it was time for young girls to settle in for the night. One young girl with golden curls was already fast asleep on one of the salon’s couches. Lady Etienne gathered up the young students and with Lady Anne’s help ushered the little dears to their waiting coaches.
Gabrielle Émilie, looking about her, at the company around her, spoke admiringly of the ladies and young women, “I am greatly impressed by what you have done here Madame Canoness. If this exhibition was for my benefit, then you have won my adoration, for it is no less than what Lady de Pisan would have achieved herself!”
Badin then entered the room and announced, “My Lady, the carriages are waiting to return the children back to Stiftsdamen.” The Abbess then asked of her students, “What do we say to our dear Gustav?” The girls did curtsy and in a single giggly voice say “Goodnight, Herr Lieutenant.” Gabrielle Émilie then clicked his heels and gave a curt nod of her head and bid the young dears goodnight as well.
As the adoration and conversations waned into the wintery night, the young Lieutenant found herself standing and gazing out the garden doors at a garden fast asleep beneath a blanket of snow. The Abbess Sophia, having finished tending to her young students, walked gently behind Gabrielle Émilie and placed a concerned hand on her shoulder and felt a shudder beneath her hand. The Abbess leaned and whispered in the Lieutenant’s ear, “Why do you shiver so, my dear Gustav? Come by the fire and warm yourself with some more brandy.” As if she had not heard the Abbess’ words, Gabrielle replied, “Two thousand leagues to the south, My Lady, my regiment makes ready for battle…and I…I am not counted among them.” Gabrielle Émilie then placed a hand upon the glass and felt the chill from the other side, again a shiver ran through her body, and the Abbes placed both hands upon Gabrielle Émilie’s shoulder and pressed close until her breasts pressed against Gabrielle Émilie’s back. Gabrielle Émilie could feel her bosom rise and fall with each breath and the Abbess’ warmth through her tunic. Once again the Abbess pressed close to whisper, her perfume with the scent of lavender swam in the air around them, and again a shiver through her nimble body went.
Gabrielle Émilie let her sad countenance fall upon the glass. If only you, my darling Ishmael, were but on the other side of this glass, the young lieutenant thought. Oh, what priceless moments we shared in each other’s embrace in humble Sochi Porad half a world away. Oh, my love, how I ache for you, the saddened Gabrielle thought once more, and in her reflection she remembered a conversation one night behind a locked door in Fyodor’s tavern. Gabrielle Émilie then stirred herself from her reverie and replied to the Abbess, “Indeed, My Lady; history is nothing more than a tableau of crimes and misfortunes. Tis true, blood and destruction shall be so in use on those fields afar, and dreadful objects so familiar that mothers shall cry when they behold their infants quarter'd by the hands of war. These men are not of noble stock, swept up from the tavern floor like scraps for last night’s supper, but they are better men than any I have met this night. Trust in that rather than the philosophers, who on bended elbow cry, ‘All’s well,’ and bemoan the ruin of the world, but stirs not from their shaded spot to help lift their common man.”
“Half a world away, brave men, left their homes and hearths…and tender lovers…to liberate a people they know not of, in a distant land beyond their knowledge. They fix themselves with courage and meet the barbarians at the gate and stand upon the wall, where they brave the dark of night and the arrow that flies by day, wondering if the next should have his name affixed to it. They brave the winter’s biting wind and the saber’s slashing blow, and o’er their shoulder they glance to say to us, grown fat and complacent in our opulence, that no harm shall fall upon our crown not on their watch. Mark these words, My Lady, all pity choked with custom of fell deeds, shall in these confines with a monarch's voice cry ‘Havoc,’ and let slip the hounds of war; and upon this cry men leave fields and homes unattended to follow a beating drum, yet the very voice that set such a dark game a foot, stirs not from his throne and sacrifices naught in this most foul deed that shall smell above the earth with carrion men, groaning for burial.” At this Gabrielle Émilie recalled in her mind the carnage they witnessed in the broken towns of Donaueschingen and Brigach on their way to
The Abbess laid her head upon Gabrielle Émilie’s shoulder and wrapped her arms around Gabrielle Émilie’s waist. Gabrielle Émilie could feel their breathing rise and fall in rhythm. “My brave sir, is our splendor and comfort such torture to you, that you would turn your back on us?”
At this Gabrielle Émilie gently untwined the Abbess’ arms from her waist and faced her host with a most compassionate look upon her face, “My Lady, I must ask your pardon for my unkind words as I did not intend to sound ungrateful. Perhaps I am just tired from the long journey and am in need of some rest.”
“Of course, good sir.” The Abbess then summoned Badin to show the Lieutenant to his quarters. Turning to the few who have chosen to stay, the Abbess announced, “I fear that it is getting late, and we have all had a long journey. Let us all get some rest and start tomorrow a fresh.” Each guest approached the Abbess and the Lieutenant to bid them each a good night. Then she turned to Badin as the guests departed, “Badin, please show the Lieutenant to his apartment.”
Badin replied, “Very well, My Lady, will you have need of me further this night?”
The Abbess then said “No, I will not this night. Show the good lieutenant to his apartment at the Abbey and you may retire for the night. Thank you for your service this night, dear Badin.”
“As you wish, My Lady.” And with that Badin left the parlor with the Lieutenant in tow.
Lady Amelie was the only person left in the parlor with the Abbess. The two walked over to stand at the garden doors where the Lieutenant had stood moments before. “Mistress, you seem pale and distressed?” inquired Lady Amelie.
With a heavy sigh, the Abbess replied, “Perhaps, I too, am tired form the road.” She stared out at the softly falling snow and the garden blanketed in winter’s coat.
Unconvinced, her companion asked, “Is it this lieutenant that perplexes you so? A fine specimen is he and with a sharp intellect that I have never seen in man before. But you are not one to pine for a man of such low rank, for you are yourself a countess with a hundred and four quartering in your crest – cousin to a baron and a king. Even the Most Reverend Custos Morum’s own son, handsome Könner, has asked, not once but twice, for your hand in marriage?”
“Ay, but the dear Könner, has not half the intellect of the good Lieutenant, nor does his finely bred heart hold half the fire that the Lieutenant holds beating within his chest,” answered the Abbess.
Lady Amelie who is the closest to the Abbess of all, and had seen the Abbess hunt down lovers in sport before was surprised at the Abbess’ conviction, “Surely, Mistress, you would not trade a Baron’s son for that of a Tavern Keeper? What would they say in your father’s court?”
“My dear Amelie, if it were mine to give, I would trade the moon and stars for his affection. As for the court of the King, he has my brother to count upon the succession and has no need of me. I have but my own happiness to tend to,” was the Abbess’ answer as she stared out into the dark night. Unbeknownst to the two young women, dark eyes spy upon them from the shadows in the garden. In the distance, a wolf howls in the night, and the dark eyes turn from its prize to hunt once more among the cobalt folds of night.
At the Abbey, Badin led the Lieutenant up a magnificent marbled staircase to the third level of the Abbey and down a wide hall decorated with fine furnishings and tapestries of exquisite handiwork. At the very end of the hall, were a pair of large ornate doors that Badin swung open, and allowed the Lieutenant to enter. After which Badin brought in the Lieutenant’s baggage and placed them at the foot a large four posted bed; in the fireplace a fire had already been started and there was a warm glow to the room. The heavy curtains had been drawn to keep the cold out as well. Badin explained, “The Canoness felt this room to be appropriate given your recent elevation in rank, sir. There is a separate room for a bath,” and walking over to a velvet rope by the bed, “a pull on this rope shall summon a chambermaid, and there is also a separate salon for guests. The Canoness had sent word to prepare a bath for your arrival.” Badin then walked to the smaller room, and found the bath waiting as well as a small stove with a fire stoked to provide warmth as well. “All is in order, sir.”
Gabrielle Émilie walked towards the small room and paused in front of Badin and placed a gentle hand upon his chest. “Dear Badin, you have seen me undone and browsed among my lilies and sampled my fruits, I feel there is no need to stand on pretense when we are in private. Can I count on your word as a gentleman and a freeman, to keep and guard my secret?” Gabrielle Émilie looked deep into Badin’s almond colored eyes, and found the answer she was looking for.
“You may count on my confidence, My Lady.” As Gabrielle Émilie left to take her bath, Badin went to unpack Gabrielle Émilie’s Spartan things. Gabrielle Émilie sank into the bath with its sweet oils and fragrance and was quickly lost to her own thoughts. What glorious comforts embraced her here in splendid Stiftsdamen. It very much reminded her of the Baron Marshall’s equally fine residence and his amorous vigor that sent her thighs a quiver. But as easily as her heart rose, did it fall like the misguided Icarus. Though she had food, warmth, and the tender affections of the Abbess, and more still she had the respect and honor of the nobility, her heart’s gaze would but return to her Ishmael’s handsome eyes and all that she had would turn to dust!
“Oh, wounded heart, how thy love slays me!” Lamented poor Gabrielle Émilie, “Not brave Ulysses himself, cloaked in Golden Fleece, not any man; however astute his mind, shall take the place of thee. To suffer the tender affections of my gracious host, yet in me ignore the same carnal pleasures that flame within my own tortured heart? Eternal lingering of useless pain! Every caress and tender touch pricks my flesh like flaming arrows; yet the same incite the flames of my own desires like a bellow to a forger’s furnace be.”
Lost in her own thoughts and torment, Gabrielle Émilie did not notice the passage of time, and rose from the bath and dried herself and donned a night gown of the softest cotton. She entered the bed chamber to find Badin still waiting patiently by the door. The fire in the hearth was the only light in the room and in her lamentations had forgot to dismiss the poor man. Startled at first, she spoke to apologize for her distraction, “Dear Badin, good sir, forgive my distraction for my heart and mind sally else where…”
Badin strode to face his mistress, and placed his large hands upon her waist. Gabrielle Émilie in a moment’s weakness confessed her confusion at her present state, “I live, I die, I burn, I drown. I endure at once this cold chill and burning flame; life is at once too soft and too hard and I have sore troubles mingles with purest joys. Thus dear Badin, I suffer love’s inconstancies and when I think the pain is most intense, without thinking, it is gone again.”
Badin looked down into her deep blue eyes and he responded, “Here I stood to await word of your discharge, My Lady, but in truth was glad to hear your grief confessed. First, decency compelled me to leave, but my heart gave me charge to stay and listen to thine lady’s plaint. So here I stay where still you can compel me, with no mean force, to surrender what we valued best.” Then Badin leaned down and planted the gentlest of kisses upon her lips like April showers on rose petal tips.
Gabrielle Émilie placed her hands upon his chest with intent to push away from him, but his hands firm upon her waist did fix her to that place, and he did speak thus, “I’m bored with masques and charades and games; no illusion clouds my sight and since that time when my eyes laid upon your golden form, I can imagine nothing fine but you, and allow me this sweet endeavor to put out these flames that torment you so, and change the old desire for something new.”
“I turn my gaze, dear Badin, from your handsome eyes, which wounds me deeply in my innocent chest!” She cried as she turned her face from his, “O, terrible fate! Suffering the scorpion to feast on me; I seek protection from the pain of this cursed poison by appealing to the very beast that stings me!” Then slowly she turns again to meet his almond colored eyes as her hands slowly slide down his chest to unbuckle his belt. “Though I beg the sun at dawn to kill the hurt, if it burns up the stain of this sweet desire, I’ll die when it is done.” At this Badin did kiss Gabrielle Émilie once more; and once again.
“There, did they burn, sweet lady?” Asked Badin of the trembling Gabrielle Émilie, “I’ll change that hurt to pleasure by giving you ten others – all just as sweet. Thus, as we mingle our kisses with our delight; let us enjoy each other at our leisure.” So did Gabrielle Émilie unfasten Badin trousers and shed her nightshirt as Badin took fair Gabrielle Émilie to her bed, “This double life will to us both ensue; for you live in me and I in you. So, do not chide me for this play on words and love me stead as a woman born and take me on that journey best of all preferred.”
With probing kisses on bare shoulder and supple breast, Badin did whisper, “Aye, a pair the two of us do make. For in temple and town square, I am no longer seen, but in your sweet embrace I am seen once more, not as less, but more the man.” Then with no delay, the two did partake in the sweet and carnal pleasures that both man and woman fondly make.
The following morning, Gabrielle Émilie reported to the garrison and with much fanfare received her title and rank of Captain. After the brief ceremony, the Colonel asked the new captain of foot, to join him in his office for a cigar and a spot of brandy. The captain accepted. As they were to depart form the ceremonial hall, a young lieutenant who looked of Mediterranean descent, fast approached and saluted the two senior officers: the Colonel and the Captain, known secretly as Gabrielle Émilie. His report was brief, “Colonel sir, a young lass in nearby Ingolstadt was attacked last night while gathering wood for her father, the Miller Banqfourt.” The report did cause the Colonel’s brow to crease with concern and his reply was equally brief, “Very well, Lieutenant, discharge your duties and dispatch the detail forthwith.”
After which the Colonel still troubled by the report, led the Captain to his personal quarters, where he had a small study. Like a butcher trimming the fat, the Colonel started with small polite chatter: how were his accommodations? Did he get enough rest? So forth and so on. After which the good Colonel came upon the meat of the matter. There the colonel did touch upon the dark and ominous words of the Reverend Custos Morum. The colonel told the captain of the plight of this valley and how they had been plagued by wolves that prey upon the womenfolk of this area. By the garrison’s record, more than a dozen women had been slain, not to mention fourscore and twenty livestock and beasts of burden in the last two years. The garrison’s mission was to safeguard the Abbey and its covey of entitled ladies of manor bred, and as best protect the chattel and property of the surrounding citizenry. This was the task placed upon this regiment of foot, and it was a task that the Colonel added he took with earnest seriousness.
Just as the two men took a sip of their brandy, a Corporal de Chef, knocked upon the door, and announced that the Abbess Princess, Canoness Sophia, was here to speak with the Colonel. Both officers rose to the approach of Her Highness, as the princess-abbess she was also the head of a small Swedish Duchy directly under the Swedish Crown. At her entrance, the Abbess paused upon sight of the Captain. Both gave a curt bow as a sign of reverence, and the Colonel spoke first with his head still bowed, “My Grace, to what do I owe this visit.”
“Good day, gentlemen.” The Abbess greeted both, then turned to the Captain and complimented him on his promotion, “A Captain’s tunic suits you well.”
“Your Grace is too kind to notice.” Replied the young Captain.
“Please, gentlemen, take your seats. I am afraid I travel to see you this morn as troubling news have reached my ears. My good man, Badin, has told me of disturbing news.” Spoke the Abbess as she paced in the small study. The Corporal de Chef brought in a chair for the Abbess who took her rest, after which the two officers took theirs as well.
The Colonel then instructed the Corporal de Chef to fetch some Sherry for the Abbess, who politely declined. The Colonel then commended the Abbess on her most excellent sources, “You good man is well informed indeed, My Lady, as I myself have just received word this morning and have already dispatched young Lieutenant Loccraccio with a detail of men, along with our Regimental Surgeon, Herr Alphonse Frankenstein.”
“What creature, what beast whose pernicious rage spills yet again purple fountains from the veins of our good people and hold this Duchy in icy fear’s grip?” Posed the Abbess to the Colonel, “Three poor maidens, bred of humble origins, are dead and thrice this vicious beast has disturbed the quiet of our streets. As we sit, the Bürger of Ingolstadt and several of their good people travel to ask for an audience with me. Pray, what should I say to these good people?”
The Colonel gave it much thought, and scribbled an order upon some parchment and handed it to the Corporal de Chef. “My dear Lady, upon my order, a company of foot shall be billeted from this garrison in the Clerval Inn at
“What of the Ladies under my charge at the Abbey?” Queried the Abbess.
The Colonel pointed his cigar at the young Captain Émilie, “As your dear cousin, the Commandant General, has ordered, you have at your disposal, a Hero of Vienna, and I shall double the guard at both the Abbey and your residence at Arvfurstens Palats.” Then the Colonel spoke directly to the Captain, “You shall have full disposal of these men, Captain. I trust that I can count on you for their safety?”
Springing to attention the Captain replied, “That you can, sir.” And turning to the Abbess, “Je suis a vous, madam.”
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