Borne In Blood Part 2

He fingered the top of her hip, tracing the line of her body along her abdomen toward the deep folds between her legs. He parted the delicate tissues and sought out the small, hidden bud that responded to every nuance of pa.s.sion. Many of the women he had known over the centuries had taken great pleasure in having that knot worked with his tongue, but Hero did not; she preferred what his fingers could do, so he continued to nuzzle her b.r.e.a.s.t.s while his hand awakened her desire to a state of rapture. She hovered on the brink of release while he moved to her neck. Now her breath quickened and shivers of ecstasy ran through her; she sank her fingers into his hair. As the first paroxysm surged through her, she let out three soft cries, gathering him close to her and rocking him through the throes of her fulfillment. She continued to enfold him as her excitement waned, as if their embrace would prolong and enhance her gratification.

The bracket-clock sounded the three-quarter hour as they finally rolled apart. Hero looked over at the clock and scowled. "We probably shouldn't linger. I can smell the venison already."

He uttered a single chuckle. "The meal will be on the table in another fifteen minutes," he said as he started to sit up.

She poked him in his side. "You don't have to get dressed. I depend on you to help me."

"Certainly," he said promptly. "You have only to tell me what you require," he said as he rose to his feet and held out his hand to a.s.sist her.

She slipped her hand into his. "I'll want my Polish velvet walking-dress for this afternoon, the raspberry-colored one, with the standing collar."

"Very good," said Ragoczy, opening her closet door and selecting the garment in question; this he laid on the bed, close at hand. "For a chamise?"

"The Italian silk," she said. "It's ivory, with lace on the neck-bands." She held her robe closed while she bent over to retrieve her stockings and shoes. "It's warmer than what I was wearing this morning."

"Then by all means," he said, "choose something that will keep you warm." He waited while she pulled on her stockings and garters, and stepped into her shoes, then found her corset where he had dropped it; he came back to her, reached under her robe and prepared to lace up the back of the corset. "Will you want to wear an under-shift as well, or is this satisfactory?"

"You do make an admirable ladies' maid," said Hero, enjoying the last flicker of her fading tantalization conveyed in his touch. "Not that I expect a ladies' maid to attend to me so completely."

He kissed her as he aligned her corset, then began to tighten the lacings, working them carefully so the corset would not bind. "Just as well, given Wendela's temperament. It pleases me to serve you," he said with a slow smile before he kissed her, still continuing his efforts on her corset.

When their kiss broke, she was a little breathless. "If only dinner wasn't ready," she said with a trace of regret. "Although you have already-"

"Been nourished?" he suggested when she stopped speaking.

"I suppose you could say that," she told him quietly. "Yes, I want an under-shift. I should have put one on this morning; I wouldn't have needed the wolf-skin rug if I had."

"But the wolf-skin rug becomes you," said Ragoczy gently.

"Do you think so?" She reached out and laid her finger against his lips. "Don't talk about this, will you?"

"No; I never would." He finished tying her laces and stepped back. "In which drawer to you keep your under-shifts?"

"The second from the top, on the left." She closed her robe.

"The one with the blue embroidery, if you please."

"It will be my pleasure." He slid the drawer open and removed the under-shift she sought; it was soft, made of fine knitted goat-hair yarn and silken decoration. He held it out to her. "If you want to slip into it?"

She nodded again, and pulled off her robe, flinging it onto the bed before she could change her mind. She tugged the under-shift down from her shoulders and looked for her chamise. "The fire isn't making much headway," she said as her teeth chattered.

"I will make sure it is built up for tonight, from the furnace next to the kitchen, not on this hearth." He handed her the chamise.

"Doesn't that worry you? Mightn't the chimney catch fire?" She shivered again, this time from fear.

"The flues are constructed along Roman lines, and they do double duty, as chimneys and as comprehensive heaters. They are better ventilated, and have six shielded channels up through the walls that meet at two chimneys on the roof, as the old Roman household holocaust did in the floors, and the hotter-burning hypocausts did in the walls and floors in the baths. These channels are more like a hypocaust than a holocaust." Over the centuries he had tried many variations on the Roman design when he had the opportunity to adapt his dwellings to his standards. This chateau had been no exception, being partially ruined when he bought it, and providing him with an opportunity to include Roman engineering as part of his own uses.

"I suppose you got your idea from them?" She reached for her shirt and pulled it on, fastening its eighteen pearl b.u.t.tons with unseemly haste; she felt something beyond cold now-a loneliness that touched her to the marrow.

"To a large degree, yes. Some I learned from the Russians, more than two hundred years ago." He offered the body of the gown to her.

Hero pulled the garment over her head, wriggling to get it settled in place. "If you will tend to my laces?"

"Of course," said Ragoczy, and moved around behind her. "Stand still and I'll finish this in a minute."

Hero lifted her heavy plait of hair and said, "Why is fashion so complicated? Not that the Parisians or Romans would call this fashion."

"It is complicated so that you can show that you can afford a chambermaid or a 'tire woman to dress you. And neither Rome nor Paris has the winters Yvoire does, even in mild years." He slipped the knots into the back of her gown, then reached for the long, broad-skirted jacket with the standing collar and eased this onto her arms and settled it on her shoulders. "There. I hope I've done the task correctly. So long as Wendela is recovering from her putrid lungs, I am willing to do my poor best for you."

"Your poor best is more than satisfactory," said Hero and turned to kiss his cheek. "It is inconvenient that she should be ill, and it is most kind of you to offer to treat her."

"Her family did not think so," he said with a wry smile.

"Then her family should-"

"It is their decision and we do well to honor it," he said. "And it is not as if you haven't managed without a maid before. I know your father did not provide you one when you went with him to Anatolia."

"No, but there was Madama Chiaro, and we traded maid duties with one another." She chuckled. "It meant more than tying laces-it meant looking for scorpions in our shoes and cases, and trying to keep the sand from ruining our clothes. I must have destroyed four muslin dresses before I learned how to care for them properly. You know Anatolia. You know what it's like. And you know Egypt."

He had a short, sharp recollection of his long centuries at the Temple of Imhotep; he said, "Not from the point of view of modern women's clothing."

"You must tell me about it, one day," she said, carefully putting hooks through eyes in the front of her jacket. "I hate to think what would have become of me if Madame de Montalia had not sent her recommendation to you."

"And entrusted her ma.n.u.script to you for delivery," added Ragoczy. "I, too, am thankful to her."

"Sometimes I fear I have done her an ill turn."

"You have not," he said.

"I hope that's so," she said, then made a final adjustment to her collar. "There. I believe I am ready."

"And so, I presume, is your dinner," he said, offering her his arm.

"Before Uchtred becomes annoyed, permit me to take you down to the smaller dining room."

"And wish me bon appet.i.te?" she ventured with a lift of her brows.

He opened the bedroom door and bowed her out. "Of course, dear lady: bon appet.i.te."

Text of a letter from Kla.s.se van der Boom in Amsterdam, to Saint-Germain Ragoczy, Comte Franciscus at Chateau Ragoczy near Lake Geneva, Yvoire, Switzerland; delivery delayed five weeks on account of severe weather.

To the most Excellent Saint-Germain Ragoczy, Comte Franciscus, the greeting of Kla.s.se van der Boom, printer and publisher, Eclipse Press, in Amsterdam, on this, the eleventh day of March, 1817.

My dear Comte, As you no doubt realize, I am sending you copies of our latest editions, as per the terms of our agreement of nine years ago.

I think you will find that the diCaponieve has the best ill.u.s.trations, and may prove the most rewarding of the six books in this package. Certainly for those traveling through the Alps, diCaponieve's guide to roads, villages and towns, monasteries, inns, spas, hotels, and hostelries should prove invaluable. I have taken the step of ordering two thousand copies in Italian for the initial printing, and an additional eight hundred in French-an unusually high number, I realize, but one I believe will prove to be well-founded. I have approached many hoteliers along the routes diCaponieve describes, in the hope that the work will find readers with an immediate need of it.

Kreutzerlinder's book on the history of the Crusades through the exploration of ruins in the Ottoman Empire may not find as wide an audience, but antic.i.p.ating an interest from universities, I have ordered twelve hundred copies of it. The ill.u.s.trations in the volume are not as well-done as those in diCaponieve's book, lacking in the fine detail and artistic presentation of the guide-book. But the text is informative and presented with concision, and will doubtless provoke lively discussion, given Kreutzerlinder's theories on the role of the Byzantines in the conflict. I will be certain to approach German booksellers, to take advantage of the language in which it is written.

Juencleu's book on the French in Canada is not likely to find as broad a readership as either the Kreutzerlinder or the diCaponieve, and so I have ordered nine hundred copies of it, and will send letters to booksellers in Montreal in the hope that they will want to supply the work of one of their own to their clientele. I must confess I still have doubts about it, but I will, of course, abide by your instructions regarding its publication. It may be as you say, that the New World may eventually become as important as the Old.

Donsky's book on game- and song-birds of Russia is handsome, but I agree it is not a subject of avid interest here in western Europe. Fortunately there are many ill.u.s.trations and all but two turned out well, a feature that could interest more readers than the topic can be expected to attract. At least it is in French and not Russian, for which I am grateful.

The deMontalia text on Rhodes and Cyprus will also have a first edition of twelve hundred copies, with nine pages of ill.u.s.trations to increase its attractions. I have come to think that you are correct in your a.s.sumption that because of Napoleon's expedition to Egypt almost twenty years ago, many in Europe have become fascinated with antiquities, and works of this kind may find a continuing intellectual appet.i.te for such works, especially as it is in French and should enjoy a vogue in Paris.

I trust I will not offend you when I say that I have only ordered one thousand copies of your Legends and Folk-Tales from the Carpathians. I have put the name of G. Tsarogy on it, as you have stipulated. I will see that it is offered in Vienna as well as Paris and Rome, for all it is in French; the Austrians have good reason to familiarize themselves with the traditions in the Carpathians. This should complement the book by G. Tsarogy on the Byzantine Empire that sold so many copies in the last three years; at least that is the way in which I will present it to booksellers.

Now as to those solicitations for publication that you may wish to consider as part of the program for next year: Captain Rupert Burch.e.l.l of the Royal Navy has submitted a work on improved navigational devices; his style is pedantic but his concepts are intriguing; he writes in English. Ermingard Frement of Trier has sent a guide to the Roman ruins in that city; her work is in French. Casimir Skolodi offered a ma.n.u.script in Polish on farming techniques to reduce crop losses due to harsh weather; I have translated a sizable portion of the work into German and asked my Friesian cousin to evaluate what Skolodi recommends and will relay his evaluation to you. Wallache Sieffert, Graf von Ravensberg, an Austrian, has submitted a work in German on the properties of the blood based on his experiments; it is a thorough work, with a great deal of information. Morgan Belclair has submitted a long ma.n.u.script in English on weather variations in western Europe and England for the past century; it is more informative than the Skolodi book, but less practical in its application. Professore Bonaldo Certi has submitted a work in Italian on the trade-routes of the Romans and the role they played in establishing ports still actively trading; I have shown this to Jules Forcier for his a.n.a.lysis, which is included in this parcel. I should mention that submissions are up by twenty percent over last year, and we are having to reject six for every one we actually consider.

I remined you we have five books already scheduled for next year and to include more than one or two of these would require an expansion of the program. I am more than willing to undertake a more comprehensive program, providing certain adjustments are made in the actual press and bindery here in Amsterdam. Such improvements would increase our production, but would require a further investment in equipment and materiel, which figures I include for your consideration. If you decide on expansion, I will need to employ another pressman and at least two more typesetters; the sooner I have your determination, the sooner I can begin our work.

With my a.s.surances of my continued dedication to our shared endeavors I remain.

Yours to command,

Kla.s.se van der Boom.

printer and publisher.

Eclipse Press.

Amsterdam.

3.

Otto Gutesohnes was muddy to his knees and his face was ruddy from the effort of his ride, and although he was only twenty-three, his long, cold journey had left his bones aching like an old man's; he stood on the top step at the door of Chateau Ragoczy clutching a dispatch-case while he waited for his knock to be answered. Around him the late-arriving spring showed boughs wreathed in the shining snow of apple-blossoms in the shattery brightness of noon, but he was too tired to pay any attention to this extravagant display.

The door was opened by Balduin, the steward, who took one look at the state of Gutesohnes' clothing and indicated the path around to the rear of the chateau. He spoke in the German-tinged French of the region. "Please use the rear door, and remove your boots before you enter. While you make your way there, I'll fetch Comte Franciscus." He nodded toward the stable. "I trust your horse is in the grooms' hands?"

"My mule, actually; yes. They manage the mud better than horses," said Gutesohnes, his French heavily accented with his native German. He backed down the steps and did as the steward had bade him, calling out as he went, "Otto Gutesohnes of Waldenstadt Messenger Service, with a delivery for Comte Franciscus. I am supposed to hand him the item in person." He cleared his throat. "You're over a league back from the lake, and the directions I was given were very poor, or I should have arrived an hour ago."

"No matter; you are here now." Closing the door, Balduin went along the corridor to the study, and knocked on the door. "There is a messenger here for the Comte; an Otto Gutesohnes. He has brought something in a case for personal delivery. He didn't say what it is."

"Merci. The Comte is in his laboratory," answered Rogier from within; he came to the door and opened it, addressing Balduin directly. "I will inform the Comte of this arrival at once. See the messenger is fed and given an opportunity to rest. He must have had a hard ride coming here, with the roads so wet. Tell him the Comte will join him in about twenty minutes."

"Very good," said Balduin, and continued on to the rear door immediately next to the pantry when he called out, "Uchtred, a messenger has arrived."

"I heard," said the chef, coming into the kitchen corridor. "There is a fire in the rear parlor. Let him rest there. I'll put together a small meal for him, and give him something hot to drink. The Comte will not object."

"I will attend to it," said Balduin, opening the outer door and waiting for Gutesohnes to appear. He noticed the midden was already steaming, an excellent sign in this laggardly April, and May less than a week off.

Gutesohnes appeared, breathing a little hard, his dispatch-case held tightly to his chest. "If you'll hold this for me"-he proffered the case-"I'll take off my boots. And my coat."

"Very good," said Balduin automatically, accepting the dispatch-case.

"I've come from Zurich," Gutesohnes said as he steadied himself against the door frame with one hand and worked his boot off his foot with the other. "Shall I leave these outside?"

"For the moment; I'll have the under-footman clean them." Balduin's mouth pursed with distaste at the thought of the ch.o.r.e.

"Danke," said Gutesohnes as he set down one boot and went to work on the other.

"How long ago did you leave Zurich?" Balduin asked, truly curious. "The weather has not been good."

"I left eleven days ago; between the mud and that last snowstorm, I was fortunate it didn't take longer to get here. This is my third stop along Lake Geneva." He put his second boot down, peeled off his coat, and stepped into the small entry-way. "Where shall I hang this?"

Balduin indicated pegs on the wall, then swung the door closed. "The sun is warm, but the shadows are still cold."

"That they are," said Gutesohnes with feeling. "And this house must hold the damp."

"So if you will follow me?" Balduin said, handing the dispatch-case back to Gutesohnes; he led the way to the rear parlor, opening the door to the cozy chamber for the messenger. "If you will sit, refreshments will be brought to you directly. Do not hesitate to ask for more if you are hungry. The Comte will join you shortly." He was about to close the door when Gutesohnes stopped him.

"May I have a basin of warm water to wash my hands?"

"Certainly," said Balduin, a bit nonplussed. "At once. Dietbold will bring it."

"Thank you," said Gutesohnes said as he pulled off his heavy gloves and set them on the table in front of the fireplace. "My hands feel like marble, and they smell of wet mule and old leather."

"Dietbold will bring you the basin." On that a.s.surance, he withdrew from the room and sought out Dietbold, who was busy in the main dining room, applying beeswax to the table. He pa.s.sed along his orders before returning to the kitchen to a.s.sist with preparing a tray for the messenger.

A few minutes later Dietbold appeared carrying a good-sized metal basin; he went to the cauldron in front of the ma.s.sive castiron stove where water was kept hot, ladling out a generous amount. "Shall I take a towel from the linen chest?"

"One of the older ones," Balduin recommended. "The man is very muddy, and there's no reason to ruin a good towel on his account."

"Of course," said Dietbold, and made his way to the linen chest in the supply room between the pantry and the laundry. He selected a towel with worn spots and a few minor stains, then went to the back parlor. He knocked and entered the room, remarking as he did, "I trust you are getting warm."

Gutesohnes half-rose. "I am. Danke."

"I'll take the basin and towel when you are finished with them," said Dietbold, handing them over to Gutesohnes, who had seated himself on the broad, upholstered bench behind the low table in front of the fireplace. "Your knuckles are chapped; they must be sore."

"They're more stiff than sore." Gutesohnes set the basin on the table and sank his hands in the warm water. "Much better," he said as he rubbed them together vigorously.

"Do you require anything more?' Dietbold asked.

"Not for the moment," said Gutesohnes, drying his hands.