Chapter 28: The Parade

"Something odd is going on over in Wessextown," the old lady said. "You've nothing useful to do. Go investigate."

I gobbled down my breakfast, tended to my horse and weapons and was on my way before the sun topped the trees.

Wessex was a small, tidy town with a pleasant square, a white church, two taverns, a sawmill and a respected potter. I headed for the larger tavern and had a good beer. The place was empty but it was barely noon.

"Yer jus' in time for the show," the publican said as he wiped his hands on his filthy apron.

I lifted an eyebrow.

"Think it'll be the dark-haired one t'day," he said, stepping to his front door. I followed with my beer in my fist. "She's the best a'the bunch."

From the far end of the dusty street came a well-dressed rider on a thin-legged horse. The man wore a long, well-tailored coat and a tri-cornered hat. His breeches were fawn-colored and tight-fitting and his high boots shone. Following him and tethered to his offside stirrup was a young woman, a naked woman with long, black hair. She wore nothing but short boots. Her hands were tied together, and she held them down over the thick triangle of dark hair below her belly. Her breasts were large and heavy with dark circles about her prominent nipples; they bobbled as she proceeded. She was a very fine looking woman if a bit heavy in the haunches. Her mouth was closed in a thin line and the towrope was knotted about her neck. She had to trot to keep up with the rider, bouncing her breasts and her belly as she did, a very stimulating sight.

From one house and then another came a man or a woman or, in one case, two children, to devil the naked woman. They hit her with switches, threw buckets of garbage on her, cursed and riled at her, laughed and pointed or tried to trip her. One man struck her buttocks three times with a riding crop. I could hear the thing smack her ripe flesh with sharp crack, and she jumped with each blow but did not cry out. And I felt my manhood stir at the sight of her and her distress. I was, briefly, ashamed of myself as I watched her near, her young flesh exposed for the world's pleasure.

The rider, a haughty man of perhaps sixty years, looking neither right or left, dragged her right past the front of the tavern. The woman, head down so that her hair nearly covered her face, hurried along after him, still trying to conceal her privates with her bound hands, her large breasts dangling. From the other side of the lane a woman stepped from her home with several brambles in her fist and hit the bent woman on the back and buttocks two or three times, leaving bloody spots where she struck. The bound woman stood up straight and glared at her, still stumbling along silently.

"What's going on?" I asked the landlord as I watched the naked woman's wide hips and rounded buttocks move away toward the other end of town. She certainly was a fine looking and well-shaped female who rolled invitingly as she moved.

"That's the laird," he said, ushering me back into the dark confines of his ordinary. "He's got three of them up there, three rebel dames, well, women leastways, wives of patriot officers, all three."

"And he parades them like that?" I asked handing him my tin for a refill.

"Oh yes," the man said with a smile, "and some days he'll let his horse canter or trot. That's something to see, them bitches runnin' t'keep up."

"What have they done?"

The man shook his head. "They's rebels."

"All married?"

He nodded. "So they say. You should see the fair-haired one. She's a true beauty, horny too I'd swear. Her man went off with Montgomery, up to Canada. Dead likely, probably froze his pecker off."

"Three of them?" I asked.

"T'other's the youngest, barely ripe, but a rebel for all that. Cunny's nearly hairless."

"Why does he do it?" I asked.

"He's the laird. Does wha' he likes. Spect it gives him pleasure. He's a bit odd." He touched his temple and then his nose.

"This town is loyal then?"

He nodded. "Them that ain't, we burnt 'em out, ran 'em off. Cept these three women."

I just shook my head and had another beer.

That evening I approached the large manor house from the rear. Scouted through the outbuildings and found a young groom willing to sit and converse for a handful of shillings.

"The girls," he answered with an evil grin. "Ah yes, ain' they somethin'? What a waste."

I waited. "Tell me about them."

"He might let me have that young one when he's through with her, that Amy something-or-other. He might."

"But isn't she married?" I asked.

He snorted. "Don' see no husband. No man'd let his wife be paraded bare naked would he?"

"You think he is trying to get their men to reveal themselves?" I asked, stringing him along toward my goal.

"Naw," the boy said. "He jus' enjoying hisself. He plays wif one a'them most every night."

"Isn't the laird a married man?"

He nodded and smiled. "You never seen her, has you. She naught but a crone, old as he is. Sides, I think he likes boys better these days. I had him paw at me onct."

"Where does he keep them?" I asked, getting to my goal.

The boy looked at me and hesitated. I produced a crown from my purse and showed it to him.

"East wing; up on the second floor; locked away and guarded all the time."

"Really?" I said handing him the coin.

"Yep," he said, "like they was gold or silver."

"How many guards?" I asked.

"Two, at least two, day and night, armed."

"Slaves?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Naw. His militia. Nasty men, big too."

I thanked him, left and did some thinking. In the morning, after pissing off my rigidity, I visited the other tavern in Wessextown and chatted with the owner and the clients, learning very little more than I knew. They all were king-lovers but none seemed anxious to go off and fight Washington and his fading army. Most thought the laird was mad or at least deranged from time to time, but they all looked forward to his parades.

Shortly after the sun reached it zenith, with our beers in our hands, we stood in front of the inn and watched the sour-faced landowner parade a lissome young woman down the dusty lane. She was slim and light-haired and wore a bruise on her cheek. Her eyes were wide and wild, full of fear, and the jeering boys easily tripped her so that she had to scramble up to keep from being dragged along.

One of my companions threw his half-mug of beer on her as she passed. I tried to picture her clothed, the reverse of my usual habit when it came to women.

Late that night I set a small fire burning in the kitchen ell of the large house and waited, honing my blade on my shoe, until it drew attention. Bells rang and there were several outcries. Then I broke open an outside door and galloped to the stairs leading up in the East wing.