Chapter 25: Trudi

The five or six of us in my group generally hid out somewhere along the south branch of the Raritan, but because we could not trust our neighbors very much despite the rapine of the Hessians, we were constantly on the move and seldom slept in the same place more than a day or two. There were many empty houses in the region, but few willing women.

On one scouting foray, looking for new boots and girls of easy virtue, I did find one that I thought took a shine to me, and my pride and lust damn near got me killed. "Come back tomorrow night," she had said in a whisper when I asked if we could find a place to be together. She was a fine, broad, young woman with generous hips and swinging dugs that tended to fall out of her apron-draped blouse when she leaned over to serve her tables. Her dark curls and generous smile as well as the chance to get in out of the cold led me to arrive back at that wretched tavern late the following evening as the lowering sky starting spitting bits of ice.

"Upstairs," she said with a nod when I entered the smoky ordinary. "Around back."

"I'll wait for you." I said, full of hope and longing to get laid.

"Suit yourself," she said and brought me a beer. Soon the proprietor was chasing out the few regulars, dousing the lamps and eyeing me. The woman gave her counter a last wipe and grabbed my wrist with a fierce smile. Around the freezing corner and up the narrow steps we jogged, bent to the wind, with me anticipating a fine, warm roll in a nice, soft bed with an eager and pliant female. At the top of the steps she pushed the door open, said, "Here he is," and stood aside.

I gaped at her in confusion and then turned to see a British lieutenant sitting in a straight chair. His legs were crossed and he had a big horse pistol with a bore the size of my stupid cock pointed right at my nose. "Come in a close the door, fool," he said with a grin.

I glanced at him and in the cracked mirror over the wash basin saw another Redcoat standing behind the open door. I grabbed the woman by the elbow and haunch, lifted her clear of the floor and tossed all ten stone of her at the seated officer and then smashed the door back against the man hiding behind it. He dropped his musket and grabbed at his crushed nose with both hands so I picked up his weapon and hit him low in the stomach with its butt. He groaned and fell to his knees while I flipped the big rifle around and got the bayonet pointed at the tangle of arms, legs, petticoats, boots and wigs on the floor. The flying bitch had hit the officer in the face and knocked him over backwards.

I kicked the woman aside and poked the young officer in the chest. He dropped his pistol, and I stuffed it into my waist after I took it off full cock. "Trollop," I said to the woman, "you're a fat, lazy bitch."

She spat at me and went to sit on the bed, folding her arms over her trembling chest after I glared when she neared the door.

"You're under arrest," said the officer, clambering back on his chair after he righted it, straightening his expensive wig.

"Oh am I?" I said, prodding the dragoon to his feet. "What's your name?" I asked him as he wiped the streaming blood from his mouth. He was a big man that smelled bad and had not shaved for two or three days, a hard case.

"Bob," he said. "You done broke it."

"The girl's'll love it," I told him. "Sideways is this year's style. Any more a'your lot outside?"

He looked at his officer who shook his head. I pulled his short sword from its scabbard and broke it under my foot. "Would you like to swallow this?" I asked the young lieutenant, poking him in the neck with the shattered end of his blade. He shook his head. "You tell me then."

"There are four men out there, waiting, and they'll be here shortly if we do not emerge." He said in a rather choked voice that bespoke good schools and reasonable breeding.

"Well, then," I said, watching Bob start to get his courage up out of the corner of my eye, "suppose you," and I turned and hit Bob squarely in the forehead with the rifle butt as he lunged at me. It made a terrible and fatal kind of sound, things cracked. He fell like a tree and his feet kicked a few times. Blood trickled from his ears. "Suppose you," I continued, with my forearms numb, "you go out on that little porch and tell your men to get on back to their barracks. Tell then that Bob and you are going to horse Tildy for a while now that you have taken care of that infernal traitor."

"Never," he said, "and her name's Trudi." He gave her a small smile.

I brought the broken sword back up to his mouth and pushed it against his clamped teeth. "Open," I said, twisting it a bit. He looked up at me and became convinced that I would do it, and I think I would have. I cut his lower lip in two places just threatening. He nodded with frightened eyes.

"All right," I said. "Up. Now just tell them to get on, and I'll turn you loose in a half hour or so. You can enjoy Trudi while you wait if you want. I've lost interest for some reason." I scratched at my groin as if I had lice.

I opened the door and pushed him out on the narrow landing. "Detail, Sar'nt Johnson," he yelled and then he paused and looked down. I glanced at Trudi and the big, still form on the floor so I did not actually see his soldiers arrive below. "Get up here, double fast," he yelled, and I poked him hard in the middle of his back with the bayonet; it went in at least half way, crunching between ribs. He screamed, went through the flimsy railing and fell ten or twelve feet to the stone-hard street with a thud. If my thrust had not killed him, the broken neck did. He never moved and his head lay at a very odd angle to the rest of his body.