Raised By Wolves 2 - Matelots (99 page)

I gestured about us and raised an eyebrow: my right, as my left eye was quite sore. I fingered the pained side curiously and found it bruised.

Gaston watched me with a glum mien of guilt. I decided that the reason for it was another thing I dared not look at.

“We are in an officer’s room at the fortress we took in Porto Bello,”

he said, with a note of query.

I let myself consider it. I knew where Porto Bello was, and then I remembered we had come here to take the town. Images of the battles flashed through my memory, ending with a boat on fire. Someone had died: Otter. That hurt, and I quickly winced away from it like a man burned.

Gaston moved so that he was in front of me, kneeling between my legs, his eyes boring into mine. I nodded for his benefit and kissed his nose. He appeared somewhat relieved.

There was a knock on the door, and at Gaston’s call, Cudro, Nickel, and Liam entered with a small washtub and four pails of water. Once they deposited their burdens, they regarded us curiously. I tried to appear sane and not addled, if indeed that was what I was. My meeting their gazes and smiling, such as I could with the bandage about my jaw, seemed to please them.

“It na’ be hot,” Liam said and kicked a pail.

“It’s not cold either,” Cudro said with a forced hearty chuckle.

“Nothing here is.”

“It will be fine, thank you,” Gaston assured them.

They gave a final nod to me and slipped out. Once again I was relieved to hear the door shut between us and the world.

“Our weapons are here, too,” Gaston remarked with a sad smile as he looked beneath the bed.

I nodded my pleasure at that. Then I saw that the effort of trying to pull our bags from beneath the bed pained him greatly. I gently nudged him away and moved to kneel on the floor, pull all of our things out, and deposit them on the mattress.

“You can be our body, and I will be our head and mouth,” Gaston said with a sad smirk.

I grinned as best I could. The idea suited me. I did not wish to think, and though there was much I might wish to say to him, it would most probably involve thought, and there I was at that again.

Gaston explored the room as I emptied one of the pails into the tub.

He found a chamber pot, and paper and ink, but seemed to have even more delight at discovering a spoon in a drawer. I understood why this find would outrank the paper, which might allow me to communicate, when he scraped accumulated hogs’ fat and filth from my arm with the side of the spoon.

We quickly stripped and took great care in scraping each other clean, depositing all of the muck in the pot. Only when I had been nearly scraped as raw as my wrists did I squat in the tepid water of the tub and bathe as best I could with a rag and soap. My skin was marred in many places with boils and pustules, and Gaston set about draining them and applying rum and poultices. He then applied salve to my wrists and ankles and bandaged them. Despite the occasional discomfort, it was all very peaceful and calming. It felt good just to have him touch me. It felt good to be cared for.

At last he unwrapped my head and examined my jaw. I considered speaking, as I could have, but it truly hurt such that I was actually afraid it might crack further or some such thing if I did try to speak.

He seemed to understand, as he asked nothing of me; though he did appear to be deep in thought and on the verge of speech himself, he did not make a sound as he shaved me, trimmed my hair, and bandaged me again.

Then it was my turn to tend to him. I was curious to unwind his bandage, but he urged me to bathe him everywhere else first; and so I did, taking pleasure in touching him and soothing his hurts as best I could. His wrists were as raw as mine, and he was quite bruised. It appeared he had fought hard, and then I began to consider what and when he had fought, and I began to recall his words with Striker and my mind stumbled badly. I was forced to close my eyes and grip the side of the tub for a time. When I dared open them, I found his green eyes before me.

“I should have asked when I had your jaw unwrapped,” he said.

I shook my head and pointed at the paper.

He gave a relieved sigh. “Shall we finish this first?”

I nodded and continued. I applied poultices to the few boils he had developed beneath all of the damn hogs’ fat, and then at last we turned to his chest. Once it was revealed, I was aghast at the wound. It ran diagonally from the thick muscle of his right shoulder – where it had cut deep, thus making it difficult for him to use his right arm until it healed – down across his chest, to the middle of his ribs. Thankfully, it had not been mortal, as the blade that made it had been stopped by his breastbone. But it was an ugly thing: there were dozens of stitches, and the result once healed would be an even more ragged and puckered scar than those made by the whip, because it cut across them, and scarred skin never heals as unmarred flesh does.

I judged it to be a sword slash. That thought stirred something deep inside, and panic gripped me yet again.

His hand was upon my cheek. “It will heal,” he murmured, and then with sad amusement, “We are even.”

My heart pounded and my breath caught. Unseen hands clawed at me, dragging me toward the light. I put desperate fingers upon his lips.

His eyes held guilt as he gently pulled my hand away. He kissed my fingers and breathed, “I am sorry,” upon them.

I was still in the clutches of fear and struggling to keep my gaze on the wall. The light blazed all around me, seeking to burn out my eyes.

“Will,” Gaston said. “Find the mirror. I wish to examine Farley’s work. It is a good thing I trained him well. Despite my…” He stopped with a sigh. “I feel he used a clean needle: it does not feel putrid, and I have not fevered much.”

I was grateful to concentrate on finding the mirror; I was even able to allow myself to know he had set me upon that as a distraction. It was odd how aware I could be that I was avoiding thought, while at the same time doing so.

I came upon the laudanum as I looked for the mirror. I was dismayed to see how little was left. I wanted some. Actually, I wanted a great deal. But it should be for Gaston, who was obviously in pain.

Gaston took the bottle from me and regarded the amount with a sigh. “We shall both have a small amount so we can sleep. Perhaps we can go and look for more on the morrow. The damn surgeons will not think to use it; probably none here save Farley and I know how to make it, or that it diminishes pain. Since it is a thing of the Orient, and this port sits on the road to Spain from the Orient, it is likely they will have the proper pods; and none will think they are of value, and we can abscond with as much as we want.”

I thought that a good plan. Perhaps then I could have as much as I wanted. I knew under its gentle embrace I would not feel tugged toward the cave mouth at all.

“But you cannot drown your sorrows in it,” he said sternly, dispelling that happy thought. “It is madness of a different sort. You care for nothing else while under its influence, but when it is gone, everything is a thousand times more painful.” He sighed. “I would not have survived the flogging without it, but I surely hated Doucette for later taking it away. That led to a bout of madness I have not equaled since.”

There was something in his words that told me he expected me to look into the light… someday, perhaps soon.

I found the paper, ink, and quill, and wrote, I do not wish to look into the light at the cave mouth.

He smiled sadly as he read it. “You know it is there, though?” he asked while studying me.

I nodded.

“Then you are not addled,” he said with relief.

Am I mad? I wrote.

He sighed and tried to shrug and quickly thought better of it. “Oui, after a fashion. But it is a madness you will recover from. When you wish.”

I do not wish to now, I wrote.

He smiled. “Then you shall frolic in the field for as long as you like.

I will hold the cart. It is your turn. You have earned it.” This last made him sad, but he looked away and wiped his tears quickly.

I love you, I wrote.

He met my gaze again, with great love in his eyes. “I know, Will.

I know it now more than ever. I never lost sight of that. I… You… fell, hard, and I knew I had to hold the cart and that all would be well. I knew the cart was strong and we would survive, even though… Non, I am sorry. There is much I must speak of when you are ready; but you are correct, now is not the time. It is my burden, and I will carry it for now. And Will, it no longer chafes.”

His words had brought the cave to mind again, but it was not so fearsome this time. The light seemed less harsh and not so angry. I was still not ready to turn to face it, but I was no longer terrified that I would have to.

Now that we had said all that need be said, we dosed ourselves with a small amount of laudanum and finished cleaning our clothes.

Gaston’s tunic was so rent it would not easily be repaired. Thankfully he had a spare, but he eschewed attempting to don it. We also ate – or rather, Gaston chewed boucan and I satisfied my belly as much as I could by sucking upon slivers of apple and mango that would fit between my teeth and did not require chewing. Gaston promised me broth or soup on the morrow, and I salivated at the very mention of it.

This made the fruit easier to swallow.

Then we reluctantly smeared a fine layer of fat upon us, and lay naked in the bed with our clothes left to dry – such as they would in the damn humidity – upon the chair and drawers. The cot was narrow, and as Gaston was comfortable doing little but lying upon his back, and I had to exercise great care with how I supported my head, it was a while before I could discover a position in which to sleep: on my side, with my back to the wall and the upper part of my head cushioned upon one of our bags.

Gaston quickly dozed, but I lay awake, almost afraid to sleep lest I dream of things I did not wish. I fingered my flaccid member idly, grateful it had not chosen to add to my confusion. I knew I was actually scared that its arousal would bring me back to fighting against the light in the cave: it has always proven to be a revelatory organ for me.

I wondered what the Gods were hiding from me in the light.

I woke several times in the night: a few awakenings were due to the nightmares I had feared, but other waking was due to Gaston prodding me to stop lying across his wounded chest, or my jaw giving protest to some untenable position into which I had attempted to settle. Despite all of that, or perhaps because of it, I was reluctant to rise with the light I saw streaming through the shutters and around the door. So was Gaston, and we lay there for a time in companionable silence, with our hands clasped and my lips worrying his upper arm in what little I could give him of a kiss.

“It will be weeks before I can kiss you properly,” he mourned at long last.I was appalled at the thought, and raised on my elbow to peer down at him with a grimace showing how disagreeable I found such a wait. He found amusement in this.

Then he sobered abruptly, and his regard became more speculative.

“If… you wish to do a thing other than kiss, I am yours in any fashion you might desire.”

I nodded solemnly. Until that moment, I had not thought of the cave since waking; now it loomed. I shied quickly from it, and with a sigh, crawled over him to avail myself of the chamber pot. Once I was through, I helped him rise so he could do likewise. He mentioned the other no more; but he did not meet my gaze as we dressed, and that troubled me almost as much as dealing with the damn cave over the matter.

He decided he would not wear a tunic for a time, and we applied more fat to his shoulders to keep them from burning. We donned our weapons. Just as he would not slip a garment over his head, he also chose not to wear his baldric, but I slipped mine over my shoulder with relish, taking comfort in the weight of my weaponry. We wrapped his right arm in the sling again, to keep it still. Even though he wore his sword belt, I was not sure what he could draw save his knives, but as he could not wield a rapier well in his condition, I guessed it did not matter. He stuffed a loaded pistol into his belt so he could use it with his left hand. And then he took the one he usually used with his right, and stuffed it into the sling above his arm.

As we were not sure if we could continue to claim the room as our own, we packed everything, including the paper and ink. I slung our bags and his baldric across my back and picked up our muskets.

We would leave nothing behind. I felt no sorrow in this, as I liked this room little. It seemed a place of bad memories, just as the one we had occupied in Puerto del Principe had seemed a place of madness.

I stopped him in the doorway and kissed him sweetly upon the lips.

His eyes were curious. I nuzzled his neck, wishing I could nip him a little. His good left hand was tentative upon my chest, and then it stole up around my neck and he pulled my mouth back to his for a firmer press of our lips. Then he embraced me as best he could, and we held one another for a time.

When at last we emerged into the light, we found the sun well up in the eastern sky. There were men upon the wall, but few in the courtyard where we stood; and Gaston eyed the gate wistfully, before reluctantly deciding we should speak to whoever might be about before we headed into town. I shared his reticence on the matter, as I thought of how Cudro, Nickel, and Liam had stared at me last night. I was not sure what had occurred, but I knew they were sure they knew.

Striker and Pete were amongst those talking, as were most of our cabal – including, to my amazement and consternation, Alonso. I had not been sure whether he was real, or merely another aspect of my dreams.

They all seemed surprised and happy to see us, but Striker stood and made a hurried interception.

He studied me critically, and seemed to view our being armed with annoyance.

“We are well enough,” Gaston assured him doggedly. “Will is…

not himself, yet. He will recover. He does not wish to speak of what occurred, or have mention made of it. As I cannot see where most will honor that, we should stay away from the others. We need to find something for Will to eat, and then we need to search the town for laudanum.”