Chapter 18

Act 3

Scene 4

Paul awoke to the sound of birds. The raucous cries of gulls, the bleating croaks of boobies, and the throaty caws of crows combined in a swirling symphony. He saw the sky, brightening with dawn, through a window in a green wall. Suddenly, reminded by the green wall of where he was, Paul tried to leap to his feet. His feet tangled in the netting of the rope hammock, his center of gravity left the enfolding strands of the hammock, and he fell towards the floor head-first. Paul flung his hands down in front of his face to catch himself, but still landed hard, bouncing once off his chin.

Paul started swearing, "Shit! Son of a Bitch!"

Even the loud thud of his landing, and his enthusiastic litany of profanity, didn't awaken his sons. Lewis and Clark snored in counterpoint, completely unmoving. Paul gingerly touched his chin, it was tender, and a bit bruised, but he hadn't broken the skin. Embarrassed and wide-awake, Paul pulled on his jeans, laced up his Herman Survivor hiking boots, and pulled on his favorite Wile E. Coyote T-shirt. He stepped over to look out the window to drink in the sights of dawn over the forest. His window faced southwest, so he couldn't see when the sun broke over the horizon. He could see the very top of the tallest trees highlighted by golden light, crowned by a multicolored patchwork of birds in a dozen different colors. The birds stirred, stretching their wings, preparing for their day. Paul's revere was broken as two small boys, about seven or eight shot by his window side by side on the deck outside.

Paul could hear the sounds of people moving about, and like the birds, starting their days. With one last disgusted look at his sons, Paul opened the door and stepped out onto the inner balcony. Last night they had been led up to rooms on the topmost level of Lofthold. Here, on the uppermost level, even with rooms twenty feet long between the inner and outer balconies, the opening gaped nearly eighty feet. Paul looked down, and saw that each of the next four levels got progressively wider and the gap in the center narrower, until five flights down, the floor took up the entire width between the bracing columns. Paul felt the urgent need to empty his full bladder, and started looking for the bathrooms.

The two young boys he'd seen tearing passed his room on the outer balcony, suddenly burst out of a passageway on his right and came barreled his way. Paul waited until the one in the lead, giggling madly, glanced back at his pursuer, then Paul stepped in close to the boy's path and hooked him with one arm, letting the boy's momentum pull him up in an arcing swing.

The boy cried out in surprise, and snapped his eyes around to espy his captor. He stammered out, "I, I be s-sorry s-sirah!"

Paul smiled reassuringly at the waif, and set him down firmly on his own two feet. "Don't worry, lad. I just had a question. Where might one find the bathrooms?"

Obviously, the boy was having as much trouble understanding Paul's words, as he had found understanding those used by the villagers. With a puzzled expression, he asked for clarification, "Bath ... room? Why wouldst one build rooms for baths?"

Shaking his head in mild frustration, Paul rolled his eyes, and tried to think of another way to ask. After considering for a few seconds, Paul smiled. "You know, boy. Where are the jakes, head, outhouse, or shitter?"

The boy's puzzled frown grew more severe with each word, until the last, and then he brightened visibly. "Oh, sirrah, thy needeth thee da honeypot? T'wouldst be found yonder, by da gantries a each corner a each deck."

Paul took the passageway from the inner to the outer deck, and then turned toward the nearer corner. Paul paused briefly to admire the workmanship of Lofthold. At this level the three huge bamboo pilings were still three feet in diameter. The great bamboo columns were tied together with two-inch thick ropes and braced apart by heavy rough-cut beams of some hardwood. A plank deck had been laid on top of a level of smaller bracing. The area between the columns supported a small enclosure. Paul was suddenly reminded of the urgency of his mission, opened the door and stepped inside.

The smell wasn't a bad as he had expected. So, as Paul unzipped his pants and dug for his penis, his eyes sought the details of the outhouse's design. There was a single hole cut in a hardwood box, as expected in an outhouse, and it wasn't until he saw his stream of piss disappear into the darkness below, and the sound of the stream striking something came from several feet below that he got his first clue. It seemed they must also use hollowed out shoots of the bamboo as piping, so rather then holding all of the waste in the outhouse, it was being piped down. Paul decided to check into the details when he finished.

Paul shoved his penis back into his pants, and zipped up. He opened the door and almost ran into a young girl, dressed in a thin nightshirt toting a naked infant. Paul stepped aside, held the door open for her. He said, "Good morning miss."

The girl ducked her head and flushed in embarrassment. She mumbled, "Thanks be thine, Sirrah."

Bemused by the girl's reaction for a moment, Paul strode back toward the passageway. Before turning to go back toward his room, he leaned out over the railing to look back at the gantry. Sure enough, bright green sections of bamboo, about eight inches in diameter, swept outward from the outhouse on each level. Attached to the outer column, there was a twelve-inch diameter bamboo that ran all the way down to ground level.

Paul stuck his head into his room, and saw both Lewis and Clark still cutting logs. He decided to let them sleep a bit longer, and went to the door where his sister's family had slept. He knocked softly and there was no response. About to turn away and search for some other companionship, the door finally opened a crack. Paul's oldest niece, Beth, peered through the crack with one bleary eye.

"Uncle Paul, what do you want?"

"Good morning to you, too, sunshine."

Beth relaxed and gave him a smile. She opened the door to let him in. Holding one finger to her lips, to insure his silence, she picked her way through the sleeping forms scattered on the floor. Becky had on an oversized T-shirt and fluorescent pink bikini panties. Paul clearly saw them when her T-shirt turned translucent with the light coming in the window from the far end of the room. Paul blushed, averted his eyes and whispered to Beth so as not to disturb anyone else.

"I'm heading down to get some breakfast, do you want to come?"

Turning to look back at her uncle, Beth cleared her throat and waved him toward the door. She said, "Sounds cool. Give me a second to get dressed."

Quietly, Paul backed out of the room to wait on the balcony. Thinking about the urgency of finding the Bishop to heal Becky, he began to pace. Beth stepped out of the room quietly and touched Paul's arm. He jumped in surprise.

Beth giggled and said, "Are you OK Uncle Paul? I didn't mean to scare you or anything."

Regaining his composure, Paul looked over her outfit. Low rider jeans left eight inches of tanned teenaged tummy exposed below her navel, and a half T-shirt only covered an inch below her firm breasts. Smiling ruefully, he replied, "Sorry, just a little jumpy I guess. Let's head down to the dining hall, I could really use a cup of coffee."

Beth pretended to ignore his unease, and smiled in response. "I don't know if they have coffee here Uncle, but I sure hope they have something here like it. Otherwise, you know how Mom is going to be without her morning caffeine!"

Paul nodded and smiled to Beth, knowing exactly how grumpy his sister would be without her morning fix. "Well, I guess we had better go check it out. That way we can take cover from your Mom if we don't find an suitable replacement."

Trying to suppress her laughter, Beth headed towards the stairs leading down. Paul followed, with a lighter step after sharing a simple, almost normal conversation with his niece. The stairs were more like broad ladders than a conventional staircase. With the new morning's light Paul could see details of the construction of Lofthold that had been hidden the previous night. The roof was a double layer of bamboo slabs. Cut two-feet wide, they were almost three-inches thick and the top layer arced up in the middle. The joins weren't tight, but the second layer made it unnecessary, as they were inverted and offset so that any water running off the top layer, fell into the convex trough of the second layer, and then ran off. All in all, it was a simple, strong, effective and elegant solution.

Paul followed Beth all the way down to the dining area on the second floor. There had been a few villagers moving about, but none had come close enough for greetings until they entered the dining hall. Paul held the door open for Beth and followed her inside. The dining hall was packed, with more then double the number of people they'd seen the previous night. Beth paused just inside the door, a bit stunned by the noise level. Paul spotted Ambrose and his brothers seated at one of the long tables and pulled Beth along by her hand as he started toward them, near the center of the room.

A group of six men they hadn't met the night before sat near the aisle. Each was dressed in rawhide, with fur, feathers, or tanned leather trim. One had finished eating and sat backwards, leaning back against the table in an arrogant sprawl. When he saw Beth, his eyes flared. He sat up and nudged his companions to either side. Hard eyes took in the roll of her hips, the bounce of her breasts with each stride and the flare of her golden hair.

Paul took note of the man's regard, but dismissed it for now, lodging it in his memory as a potential future problem to be dealt with. So, he continued passed the men, Beth in tow.

With a salacious leer, the man facing them said to his friends, "Mien Gott! A bint ta take ta edge off!"

Before what the man had said registered, Paul had taken five steps. Suddenly, the short thickset man reached out and grabbed Beth's arm with a gnarled hand. Paul didn't notice anything until she was yanked from his grasp. Beth let out a little shriek as the man hauled her to his lap. Paul started a slow turn to see why Beth had yanked her hand out of his grasp, but upon hearing her shriek, he dropped his center of gravity and spun into a fighting crouch facing table of men he'd just passed, left foot facing forward, right foot at a right angle, and hands loose but half raised.

The man on the end on the other side of the table lurched around the table toward Paul. He was wearing fur-trimmed rawhide, and stepped between Paul and Beth, bracing himself, with one hand raised. He said, "'Ere now! Yon strumpet's na worth yea bother!"

The man that had grabbed Beth pinned both her wrists behind her back with one hand, and started to slide his other hand up her belly to go under her shirt, she struggled, whimpering in fear and frustration as he groped her.

A spike of outrage shot through Paul, he had had enough. He spun into a leg sweep and dropped to the floor, catching himself on his hands. When his heel knocked the interloper's feet over his head, Paul bounced off the floor with his hands and dove over the downed man towards the one still holding Beth. The man's eyes widened in surprise, just as Paul connected with a straight-armed palm strike to his chin. Driven by the full force of his leap and the weight of his body, blood and teeth sprayed across the table. As the man went limp and started to fall backward, Beth, still caught in his grasp, started to fall over with him.

All of the other men at the table leapt to their feet. The one to the downed man's left grabbed at Beth, but only caught her T-shirt at the shoulder. As she fell away from him, his grip ripped the shirt off her, exposing her bra. The one to the right lunged to his feet and drew a wicked looking knife. Suddenly, Paul didn't like the odds, and wished he'd thought to wear his pistol to breakfast. Paul was girding himself for a desperate fight for his life when the men suddenly drew back.

Paul risked a glance to his rear, and saw Ambrose, flanked by his four brothers, mouth set in a grim line. Paul was surprised to see Ambrose's brother Peter, drawn sword inches from the face of the man that Paul had taken down with the leg sweep. Then, Paul saw the man held another of the wicked looking knives.

Ambrose wasted no more time. He leapt forward, digging the tip of his sword into the Adam's apple of knife wielding man. He roared, "Stand thee down! Least I split thy ugly pug face in twain!"

The man's face contorted in a snarl, but he dropped the knife, and stood with fists clenched in fury. Ambrose offered a hand to Beth and pulled her to her feet. She was wracked with sobs and tears ran off her chin to fall on the bared tops of her breasts. She wrapped her arms over her bra in a futile effort to hide her shame. The man Paul had struck spat blood and another tooth. Then gathering his senses, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked up. Ambrose's sword inches from his nose forced him to look cross-eyed at the tip.

"Caleb! Thou hath not ta sense o' a ox! Many anon hath thou been told! We doth abide thee no favors in Lofthold! Yon doth not be thine, and thou hath given thy lust free reign! Yea treat such to thy peril!"