One Hundred Refusals (13)

A serialised romantic fantasy

Previously…Chapter 12

There was nothing fine and delightful about the place. The wide tavern hall taking up nearly all the first floor of the building greeted her with darkness, stench of mould and cheap perfume, although Gema could perceive a vague hint of peppermint and honey in the air.

Oh, Ash! Where are you?! How I wish you’d rescue me now… she thought in despair.

A tiny light beckoned the band of robbers to move across the hall to the bar, where a tall man’s silhouette stood lighting more candles.

“Greetings, gents! What can I do for ya’?” his low voice was too cheerful for this grim place.

“You Lord Trouser?” The leader of the robbers grunted.

“Indeed I am. What brings you lot here? Fancy a drink?”

The robbers murmured approvingly.

“We have a proposition for ya’,” the leader said, pushing Gema forward. The hat fell off, and there she stood; a beauty with her chestnut hair falling on her frail shoulders in graceful waves, her blue eyes shining, and the gentle candlelight embracing her feminine curves.

“Well…” Lord Trouser glanced at Gema’s wide hips and round breasts with an expertly gaze, “that’s quite a proposition.” A cunning smile rose on his wrinkled face. Oh, yes, Gema saw Lord Trouser had most definitely been a fiercely handsome man once, but that was many years ago. The candlelight revealed his slightly crouched frame, and his hair and beard was completely white, touched by the deadly frost of time. But the eyes! He had the eyes of a hungry cat, getting ready to jump on its prey. Although old, he was much taller than Gema, and the poor princess swallowed hard at the thought of this predator jumping on her.

“How much?” the Lord didn’t waste any time. The leader stepped closer to the counter, and both spent a couple of minutes whispering, and looking at Gema. The princess scoffed; how rude! To speak of her as if she were a horse or a cow! Gema wished to know her worth in gold, especially considering she was the one who made this deal possible.

On the other hand, she had a chance to look around. There was no way to escape; the band of robbers surrounded her. The place was the same as its owner; once it might have been impressive but now everything was bleak and broken from old age.

“Not enough!” the leader’s low grunt woke Gema from her pondering.

“Pardon me, kind sir, but as you may have noticed, business has not exactly been going well,” Lord Trouser gestured at the dark tavern hall. “The late king made our efforts futile, brothels are a dying breed, lads!” He motioned theatrically.

“And this gal is a fine investment. Look at her!” The leader gave Gema the dirtiest grin. She shivered from head to toes; not him! Anyone but him!

“I have more gold,” she said, giving them her only treasure (apart from her virginity!); a small golden ring she wore, a gift from her mother. Gema’s freedom was on the line, she was sure she’d escape the old man as soon as the robbers would leave.

“A wise lass, I tell ya’! Would you mind, my lovely Lady, if I take a lock of your hair as a reminder of the finest Lady I’ve ever met?” The leader asked. Gema allowed him to cut a small lock of her luscious chestnut hair with his dagger. The man placed the precious gift in a silver box for tobacco, which he had obviously stolen.

The ring was a lovely little thing, inlaid with emeralds and diamonds, and the robbers were pleased. They took it, and a nice pile of golden coins Lord Trouser brought to the counter. Then they shared a drink, and Gema chugged down the beverage presuming some liquid courage wouldn’t hurt.

“Well, gents…” The Lord was obviously anxious to spend some time alone with his new possession.

“A bit stubborn, this one. ‘Ere, let us help ya’! Where to, Lord Trouser?” the drunk robber picked Gema up like a feather, and before she began fighting back or objecting, he dragged her upstairs, and shoved the poor princess into the room with the biggest doors, which, of course, was Lord Trouser’s private boudoir.

The Lord limped after him.

“That’s quite enough! Thank you! Goodbye!” He scolded the robber. The vile robber left with the rest of them.

Gema retreated further away from her new Master, while he locked the door. He listened if the robbers were gone. Then Lord Trouser crept to the window, and opened it in a tiny gap. Crude but painfully familiar voices broke into the room from the street; the robbers lingered outside.

“Now, my dear! I suggest you do what I say, and do it quick! Get into bed!” he said looking out the window, hiding behind the curtains, not even giving Gema a glance.

“Oh, no! Please, could we talk first? We should get to know each other, before…”

“Oh, Foreverold, have mercy upon me! Please, get into bed! And would you bounce a little?!” the Lord commanded quietly.

“What?” Gema was baffled by his request. Was it some kind of a perverted foreplay? Yet, the man wasn’t even looking at her, and without knowing any better, Gema indeed climbed into his giant bed, and jumped up and down. The old bed squeaked rhythmically.

“Excellent! A good rhythm. Now moan, dear!” he whispered.

“Why? How?”

“Good grief, girl! Have you not ever slept with a man?”

“No, I have not!”

“So, the bastards were not lying. Very well, I’ll do the moaning,” and with it Lord Trouser gave the most dirtiest grunts and moans Gema had ever heard a man make. She blushed in bright red; the sounds they both made could not be mistaken for anything else but lovemaking.

After their performance went on for several minutes, the Lord went quiet, and crept to the window, although there was no need - the robbers laughed and whistled, their voices moving away, until a shrill whistle chased them down the street. Obviously, their cheering drew the attention of the soldiers patrolling the streets at night.

Lord Trouser sighed, wiping his sweaty forehead with a lace-trimmed handkerchief.

“Excellent, my dear, excellent! That’ll keep them from coming back for you. What? Did you trust those scoundrels? They’d gladly keep the gold, and you. But now we indeed should get to know each other closer.” He winked, and his eyes had that glow of a hungry feline in them again.

“Oh, no…please, don’t hurt me! I was hoping…my first lovemaking would be with a man I love…”Gema stuttered, getting out of bed. The thought of Ash holding her close coloured her cheeks red.

“What a charming creature you are!” Lord Trouser gave a quick laugh, ”I’m afraid my noble steed has seen better days, it’s nothing but a tired old donkey now.” He shrugged. “Even if I were younger, I’d never take advantage of a noble girl kidnapped by scoundrels. You are noble-born, am I right?”

“Yes, yes, I’m…”Gema said eagerly, “princess Geminaris! I was supposed to be crowned today, but…” she went quiet. The look in Lord Trouser’s eyes was full of kind disbelief.

“Poor girl! Did they whack you over the head?”

“No… I…” Gema stopped. Explaining was futile; why would anybody believe her?!

“You are right. I am noble. I come from the Citadel, and I must beg you to help me return there at once!” She spoke with tears in her eyes.

“Oh, my dear… I’m afraid, I cannot. You mustn’t travel alone on foot, but I can’t offer you a horse and a carriage. Sadly, I used up all my gold to buy your freedom.”

“I am grateful,” Gema smiled ruefully. Indeed, she would walk back home on foot, it couldn’t be too far, but she comprehended the dangers a young maiden might encounter when travelling unprotected.

“Oh, do not despair, my dear! I shall help you get back home as soon as I get a bit of gold. We’ll rent you a carriage suitable for a girl of your position,” Lord Trouser reassured her. Gema sighed relieved, soon she’ll be home and laugh at this awkward attempt of kidnapping the queen-to-be!

Lord Trouser rang a tiny silver bell for tea, and an elderly woman brought it after a while. They talked long into the night, and Gema found that “the fine house” indeed was not what it used to be. Most of the ladies were old, the younger ones lived with their husbands, who paid the rent to Lord Trouser for taking up his rooms. Gema avoided speaking much of her past, for she was sure the Lord would not believe her.

She was shown to a lovely room of her own, and Gema was quite pleased to spend the night alone, not in the vile paws of a robber, or an old pervert’s dirty embrace.