Edward Lane's Argosy Ch. 02

Finally, he could take no more, and grabbing Lady Trey's hips once again he fucked her savagely until he released his fountain of creamy foam deep within her neglected pussy. Sated, he collapsed, his new lover curled up about him upon his lap, where they both drifted into a dreamy state.

* * *

Afterwards, as they curled up on the settee before the fire in languid repose, sipping the last of the wine, Edward stroked her face and shoulders and arms until he came upon her prosthesis. He had barely noted it during their fevered coupling, but now he had the opportunity to admire the device up close. He was fascinated by its complexity as well as its utility, and he knew that the precious metal, alone, would have cost nearly a thousand pounds to fashion. The whirring mechanism within must have cost ten times that.

"So, my lady, are you ready to share your story?" he asked, softly. "I cannot contain my curiosity any longer -- now that my lust is sated for the moment."

"Do you really wish to know?" she asked, an edge to her voice. "Or are you merely indulging me for the sake of my charms . . . or my fortune?"

"Apart from your beautiful charms, I have thought of little else since we parted at dawn," he assured her.

"Then come with me," she said, pushing him firmly. "Let us retire to the library, and I will tell you the entire sorry tale."

Following his hostess through the darkened halls, his torch in hand and his clothing restored to a semblance of order, Edward was led to a very large room -- far larger than his flat in the city -- where books lined the walls from ceiling to floor. There were several tables within the room covered with books and papers and apparatus that he was unfamiliar with, and they in turn were covered with dust.

"I rarely enter here," Lady Trey said, sadly. "This is where my husband conducted his research, when he still had a mind to take a wife."

"He's a scientist, then? A philosopher?"

"He is a fool," she said, bitterly. "While he proclaimed his love for me often, when I was young, beautiful, and gullible, the only thing he truly adores is his research. Lord Reginald Trey, you see, is enthralled by the innermost secrets of Nature, herself. He focuses his efforts on the arcane realm of Biologia, the Science of Life. And within that sphere he pursues an obscure course of study: for he pretends that all life is scored like a musical symphony, from the smallest atomi to the largest of creatures -- Man among them."

"That has been a popular theory," agreed Edward, carefully. "Some Austrian monk made some observations . . . something about peas?"

"I know not the details of the heresy," Lady Trey said, shaking her head. "I was interested, at first, because my new husband was. But he discouraged my interest as interference in masculine affairs and frequently forbade me to join him in his researches, contending it was not a proper pursuit for a lady. I cannot tell you of the ungodly things he kept in the cellar -- monkeys, apes, dogs, creatures from all parts of the Earth. Here he would take just the barest sample of them and make assays with some contraption he had constructed -- a bizarre structure with many great glass jars and bottles and such. And he would dissect them to study their entrails like some pagan fiend, or subject them to all manner of tortuous trials while yet living.

"While he forbade me entrance here, I took it as my wifely prerogative to intrude -- it was my home too, after all -- and try to glean what, exactly, Lord Trey was doing. I loved him, you see, even if he paid me scant attention in return for my loyalty. A devoted wife properly takes an interest in her husband's work. I cared not what it was -- only that it fascinated my new groom, and I wanted to understand it. Biologia has never been a passion of mine, so the study was . . . challenging. I've always been more partial to ancient history, legends, and lore, subjects somehow 'more suitable' to my sex's sensibilities.

"But I persisted. Reginald had actually made some intriguing discoveries, employing all manner of advance apparatus, and he frequently called upon his peers in the sciences to join him here to inspect his work. For nearly a year after we wed this old hall was alive with students, philosophers, technicians, and attendant tradesmen. I, myself, was quite proud of him and his accomplishments. He was particularly fascinated by the wide diversity of creatures on certain island chains, and strove to collect samples from all over the world for close inspection. I did my best to be a good wife and gracious hostess, and I asked every question I could to inform myself more completely in these matters.

"Then one night after I had retired — alone, and not for the first time — I heard noises emanating from this very room. Horrible noises, as if some savage beast were being slowly ripped to shreds. Reginald was not in bed -- he often worked late into the night, claiming that his experiments were too critical to leave for the night. I indulged him -- he was my husband, why would I not? As frustrated as I was with his vocation, I would never try to deprive him of it, no matter if I, myself, was already suffering from inattention.

"But that night I ventured forth, concerned. I had clutched a foil in my hand, as I had practiced with the weapon in my youth and had been marked an accomplished fencer by my master and my brothers. Betwixt the horror of the clamour and my sleep-addled mind, I suspected something foul was afoot.

"When I reached the door to the library, it was ajar, and I essayed within to determine the nature of the commotion, my impotent toy held forth resolutely. It was here," she said, feeling for the edge of the largest table in the library, "Right here, upon this very table, where a large glass vat half the size of a man was sitting. There was a liquid inside, one that bubbled evilly, and it was open at the top but usually covered. A vile odor issued from it, and filled the room with acrid fumes. I had always wondered at its utility, but Reginald could never bring himself to explain. Everything was always 'too complex' for my feeble female mind. But this night I saw with my own eyes for what use it was employed.

"Floating within a massive bottle made of glass was a half-dead ape, a large and brutish creature from Asia. It was submerged up to its shoulders within the tank, leaving only his head protruding. It made the most hideous, pitiful moans, and as I was a Christian I took pity on its pain, though it only resembled a human being. Indeed, it's animal nature made it's plight all the more unbearable. I cannot abide to see a creature suffer needlessly, and it became apparent just why Reginald was so reluctant to include me in his research. If that be science and progress, then it is built on suffering most foul!

"But that evening," she continued, "I came in here and saw it. And it saw me. And when it saw me, it issued the most lamentable keening -- which disturbed my husband. He and a nineteen year old . . . 'student' from London were engaged in a tryst in the far corner. At the time I do not know what horrified me more -- seeing them there in a position that only I, by rights, should bear in relation to him, or knowing that they carried on thus while that poor creature was dying in pain in the same room. In my shock and disgust my foil fell to the floor, alerting my philandering husband to my presence, over the keening of the ape. Regardless, my shrieking upset the creature, and our combined clamour summoned my husband and the poor girl in a disheveled state."

Lady Trey hung her head in bitter regret as she continued. "I know not what happened, only that there was an accident -- one of us upset the balance of the table, and the massive glass crock came crashing down. Unfortunately, the girl and I were both in its path, so when it shattered asunder, we bore the brunt of the fall. I was the . . . lucky one. The liquid engaged my eyes and destroyed my sight, and the shards of glass cut off my hand as they fell, but I was not otherwise scarred. The girl was not so fortunate. A large sliver of the jar passed through her throat, killing her instantly. The last things my eyes ever saw were my distraught husband, standing half-naked, over the bloody body of his lover, the dying form of the miserable ape, and a million speckled shards of glass illuminated by the firelight. Then all was black. And so has it been, evermore."

Edward did what he could to comfort the woman, but the depths of Lady Trey's misery were profound, and no mere physical embrace could lessen them.

Eventually she waved him off, dried her tears, and steeled herself to continue. "He was wracked with guilt, of course," she said, in a gasp. "The girl's family was paid a substantial sum, and my infirmity was told off as a regrettable 'laboratory accident'. He never did admit his infidelity, though it was the last thing I witnessed with my eyes. Instead he made me 'comfortable', vacating this dreary old estate for his foreign lands, imprisoning me in a cage of cold stone and gold. The servants were mine to command, he said. Nothing I desired would be refused. Reginald even commissioned the most adept clockworkers to fashion this hideous replacement," she said, raising her silver arm in the gloom. "Then he abandoned me. "

"How could a man not be moved to pity from such a tale?" Edward murmured.

"Stay your pity, sir!" Lady Trey hissed. "I did not tell you my woes to inspire pity. No, I told my tale to you because you must need understand my situation to appreciate the urgency of my desires. I have a commission for you, Mr. Burglar. After four long, dark, weary years, you are to be my deliverer."

"How so?" Edward inquired, cautiously.

"Quite simply: I wish something burgled. And I'm willing to pay handsomely for it."

"My lady—" Edward began, the protest already on his tongue.

"Stay!" Lady Trey insisted. "Do not protest your innocence. Nor your abilities. Nor your character. By Jove, if a woman cannot judge the depths of a man's character after taking him abed, then she is a fool. And after four years of darkness, I am a fool no more. You are an honest thief, Mr. Lane. And just the sort of man I need."

"What is this bauble you covet so highly as to pretend you are in need of a housebreaker?" Edward asked, carefully. Uncle Pete would have been proud -- there was a way among the criminal fraternity to ask such delicate questions without seeming to do so -- and without admitting anything admissible before the crown magistrate.

"A stone," she answered, simply, making a gesture with the fingers on her living hand, "about so big. A mere stone, milky white, like quartz or marble, but of a feel more like jade . . . or so it is said. Two and a half inches long, two wide, and no thicker than your finger. Smoothed by time and some river bank -- the Styx, itself, if legend is to be believed."

"Now that is intriguing," Edward acknowledged. "My Lady, that name is filled with ill omen."

"As I told you, Mr. Lane, I favor the Classics, the ancient legends and lore, over the novelties of Science. Before my sight was stolen, I was quite a different person, I assure you. I read Latin and Greek, French and Italian. I had the same tutors my brothers did, and they schooled me in all of the curriculum, including the aristocratic arts. I used to be a fine judge of horseflesh, for instance. And I was more adept than my brothers at fencing and archery. But the stories and myths of the ancient world, they intrigued me the most.

"I do not remember the day, nor even the book, but I do recall being fascinated with the Stone of the Fates. Have you heard of it?"

"I'm assuming it's oval, milky-white, about two inches by two and a half," Edward suggested.

"Indeed it is," she nodded, smiling into the darkness. "And it enjoys many other names. But the reason it was known in Constantine's time as 'the Stone of the Fates' is that it was pillaged from an Egyptian tomb by the Arab, brought to Egypt from the farthest shores of the Black Sea in antiquity as a gift to the royal court. Legend says that the stone was the 'eye' the three blind Fates, the Stygian Witches, used in the story of Perseus. Are you familiar with the myth?"

"Somewhat," Edward admitted. "They had but one eye and one tooth between them, correct?"

"Indeed. From what researchers can determine, the Graeae, as they were called, were indeed three priestesses of some dark and ancient god in some ancient, long-forgotten village near the shores of the Black Sea long before the birth of the Nazarene. Blindness was a prerequisite for the position, and the sisterhood was seen as a powerful oracle in ancient times. The stone, you see, had special properties. When held to the forehead of someone whose eyes were closed, they are able to sense the world around them as if they had sight. Better than sight, perhaps. At least, that was the legend."

"And who has this mythical stone now, Lady Trey?" Edward asked.

"After the Saracens removed it from the temple, it was spirited away to Morocco, where many a Mohammedan sage studied its properties. Al Mansour of Toledo wrote about it in 1435," she recalled from memory. "A Moorish prince used it to sneak through the Christian lines in the dark of the new moon, thus gathering intelligence on the Castillians and managing a rout the next morn. The Stone next appears in 1499, in the possession of Count Diego de Arbol Y Sol, who claimed it as spoils after looting the palace of one of those Moors exiled to the New World by King Ferdinand. He bequeathed it to his daughter, who married a minor Russian noble. It was inherited by her son, Ivan, and passed down within their family for a few generations. Then their family fell out of favor at court and was sent to exile themselves. The present owner is one Count Piotr Ivanov Cherensky, who lives in Paris."

"For a moment, I though you were considering sending me to Russia," Edward said with obvious relief. "Is the Count aware of the stone's properties?"

"Indeed," she nodded. "As a youth he would blindfold himself, utilize the stone, play at swords with up to three opponents at once, and best them all. But he saw the stone only as a curiosity, not the tool it . . . could be."

With such a stone, Edward knew, some of the misery Lady Trey bore from her infirmity might diminish -- he could see why she would pursue such an artifact so resolutely -- and with such desperation. "I will give you money to prepare, and far greater reward upon your triumphant return, should you accept the commission. But I cannot impress upon you adequately how madly I burn for this magical bauble!"

"Have you any detail on where and how it is housed?" he asked, in a low voice. "Purely for the sake of professional interest."