The Wanderer Pt. 02

"I knew you..."

"Knew me? How can that be? We've never met."

"Once long ago... she had your name... your..."

"My name? Magdalena?"

"Yes."

"Where is she now? This Magdalena of yours?"

"She's gone..." he gave a heavy sigh, eyes dimming inward at the memory.

"And you're here... why?" She shrank away from him, as if suddenly reminded of the danger she was in, two strangers in her house, one dead, the other his killer, calmly talking to her even as the soldier's body lay dead a few feet away. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Nobody... nothing..." Again, his expression took on a faraway cast, remembered pain pulling down the corners of his eyes as his voice faded.

She glanced at him, caught by the sadness in his voice. Slowly, her hand reached out, softly grasping his shoulder, her own pain momentarily forgotten at the raw desolation evident in his eyes. "Stranger, I thank you, whoever you may be. And I'm sorry for your loss."

"My loss?" he looked at her, surprised, took in his surroundings, the mud walls, the dirt floor, as if unsure how he came to be here. Saw the soldier on the floor and sprang to his feet. "We must leave here, NOW."

"Why?"

"The king's men will do a count. And when they find one of their own missing, they'll come to look for him."

"So? Let them come, I have naught to hide."

"Naught but a dead body wearing the king's insignia."

"He tried to RAVAGE ME!"

"You know it and so do I. But his comrades will never accept the smear to his honor, claiming he's incapable of such. It'll be your word against theirs."

"So? You can witness on my behalf. You're here, you saw what happened."

"And what is that worth? The word of a woman and one stranger?"

"The truth is truth. No matter from whence it came; from high or low."

"The truth is what those in power declare it to be. And you'll be in the king's court, tried by his men."

"So?"

"So they did not spend all their money training the king's soldier only to see him dishonored in open court. To dishonor the king's soldier is to dishonor the king. And this he cannot allow."

"I cannot leave. This is my home."

"Really?" Skeptically, he eyed the mud caked walls, the faded straw, looking as if it had just come directly from the stable.

"Yes, REALLY." She bristled at the tone in his voice. "Marble walls and silk tapestries do not a home make. Those who inhabit it make it so."

"And the people that would make this a home. Where are they?"

"They're... not here..." she turned away, avoiding his eyes.

"Then there's nothing left to hold you. We must leave NOW." He went to the soldier and dragged his body into the next room and came back, tightening the soldier's sword belt across his own gaunt waist.

"I-" she hacked violently, overcome by a sudden fit of coughing.

Instantly, the stranger was by her side, gently wiping her brow with the cloth. He dabbed the corner of her lips and looked at the cloth, alarmed.

"Wha... what is it?" she asked weakly.

He showed her the cloth, a bright splotch reddening the white.

"Nooo..."

"I'm afraid so. The first sign of the devil's plague..."

"NOOO. God have mercy, it cannot be!" Again, she coughed violently, this time clutching her stomach as her face grimaced in agony.

He grasped her shoulders and looked into her eyes, his voice soft. "May I?"

"What?"

"Your belly, I need to check for infection..."

"WHAT?! NAY!" She shrank back, pulling her dress tight about her figure.

"Please," he whispered, his eyes imploring, "if we catch it now, there's still a chance we can stop the poison in time. If not..."

"Are you a healer? What interest have you in my well being?"

"I have... some acquaintance with the sickness, yes... and once long ago I could've helped... but didn't... " He looked down, his voice full of regret.

"Alright." Sighing, she closed her eyes.

Slowly, inch by inch, his hands moved down the hem of her dress. She shivered, knuckles whitening on the sheets as his fingers touched her ankle.

She gave a soft moan, biting her lip as she felt a sudden coarseness rub against her legs.

His hands, callused and scarred, stopped moving as he looked up. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, biting her lip again as her eyes scrunched shut.

Quickly now, he flipped up the hem of her dress and gasped. YE GODS! NO! Tis here already, much too soon... Her skin was pale and soft, almost translucent. So delicate, he wanted to reach out and touch it, like the wisp of a dream; unsure if it was real or not. And beneath that pure trembling whiteness, the shifting snow settling ever so softly after the storm-a tiny worm of blackness, just under the skin, slowly spreading, like ink spilled on blank parchment-the DEVIL'S SICKNESS! "Here, hold this in your mouth."

"What?" She raised her head off the pillow, saw his hand holding the cloth. "Why?"

"For the pain. I'm sorry, I have to cut the poison out."

"Poison? What poison?"

"This poison-"

She yelped in pain, clutching at the sheet. His hand briefly pressed on the black spot just under the skin of her belly then relented.

"The pain will get much worse and then..."

"And then?" She stared into his eyes, saw the fear there, felt her throat go dry.

"And then it will stop... when you die."

She took the cloth into her mouth and bit down hard, eyes imploring heavenward as she stared through the ceiling.

Pinching a nub of skin between thumb and forefinger, just above her belly button, he gave a quick cut with the dagger (a soft muffled groan from her which he ignored) and kissed the wound, thirstily sucking.

Her eyes flared wide as she felt his lips sucking sucking-OH YE GODS OHHNOOOOHHHNOOHHH- the fragile sensitive skin of her belly puckering hot wet pulled; an exquisitely painful sensation as the poison flowed from her body and then sudden cold air then soft cloth pressing then her hips being lifted-OOHH HIS FINGERS RASPING BURNING-then cool cloth wrapping around her waist, cinched tight as she exhaled. She heard a harsh spitting sound and sat up in bed.

His eyes found hers as the back of his palm wiped his lips. He spat again, expelling the last of the poison onto the dirt floor.

"Th-thank you." She blushed, a fiery blossom splashing her cheeks even as her hand tentatively rubbed at her belly.

Still by her bedside, he held her gaze but remained silent.

"I don't have any coins to-"

"How far is the king's domain from here?" He stood up and she noticed he was wearing the dead soldier's clothes, including sword and chain mail.

"Two leagues, why?"

"They would have reached it by now and once his comrades discover he's missing, they will come to look for him."

"Let them come. I am ready."

"I know you're innocent and they may know... eventually... but in the meantime you'll be a guest in the king's dungeons..."

"So be it. The truth will eventually out."

"Do you know what happens to women in the dungeons? How they earn their food?"

"I don't-I never thought-"

"Prisoners earn their keep, one way or the other. The men breaking stones. The women..."

"-the king could be so cruel."

"Soldiers have means to sake their lust on the campaign trail; women in enemy territory are the spoils of war after all. What do you think happens when soldiers are home by the thousands and the king's dungeons full of women?"

"Nooo..." Her face paled as the truth of his words hit home. And yet she remained defiant, stubbornly shaking her head. How could she flee, and give life to the lie that would ruin her name forever?

"Please, if you value your life, we must leave at once." He held out his hand.

She sat up in bed, the protest dying on her lips as a bolt of searing agony suddenly tore through her belly. Moaning, she clenched her teeth in pain.

Instantly, the stranger was by her side, gently supporting her shoulders as she lay back in bed.

"My name, my honor, I ca-" she coughed weakly, "-cannot abandon either..."

He held her hand and swallowed, an unexpected lump forming in his throat. Ye Gods what a woman! Surrounded by death and dying, no one for company except these mud caked walls as she fought for life and honor against the point of a sword held by one of the king's own, and now on the cusp of death; her body ravaged by the devil's sickness, AND STILL she held her honor too dear! Those that held their honor so highly; how many of such had he seen throughout his travels? Too few and much too far in between, no matter whence and where he roamed across the years. "I swear... your honor and your name will remain intact... as long as this body hold's breath."

Something in his eyes made her believe; the truth told there hard to deny. She gave a weak nod then closed her eyes, surrendering to oblivion at long last.

Gathering what items he could, the stranger took a last look around the hut, his eyes lingering on that face (her face!) for a long moment... and then he left. 

To be continued