Chapter 6: Action

Some time later, I had long before lost track of time, perhaps a half an hour, after we had both answered a few more questions, mainly about what we did with the bodies, the Englisher rang his bell again, and the fat officer appeared once more, looking much drunker than he had been, barely able to stand. "Have the girl taken down, cleaned up and given to the jaegers. They may get some pleasure out of her if they haven't all passed out. I won't hang these two on Christmas night since you Germans make so much of it. We'll do it at noon tomorrow, outside where all can enjoy it, make an example. Of course, the woman may not last that long."

"Undt him?" the German said, nodding at me.

"Leave him," said the Redcoat. "He's no good to anybody." He tapped my aching member with his whip and then hit me backhanded, swinging up between my legs, crushing my ballocks against my body. I gasped, and he swung overhand to hit me again on the base of my member sending a pain that jolted my brain and made me taste bile in my throat. I wished I could have vomited on him.

I watched the same crew of soldiers arrive and take Susan down. They seemed to enjoy handling her small, soft, almost-naked body, passing her back and forth and kneading her blood-stained breasts, buttocks and belly as they did so. They disappeared with her out a door at the far end of the big room, her feet dragging along.

Left alone in the dark, I assessed the situation and tried to ignore the searing pain between my legs, the feeling of muscles crawling and shaking, and the tearing ache of my shoulders. I could hear snow or ice hitting the windows and the wind howling in the dark night and hoped Washington had not tried to cross that icy river. It was Christmas, which my lieutenant had told me might indeed be the time after I passed along Susan's suggestion. Maybe the Fox had changed his mind, decided it was not worth it.

It had to be well past midnight. Wet snow or ice struck the windows in sheets, rattling the panes of glass. He might hit them tomorrow then, I decided, save us from the gallows. He might be hoping for better weather when the sun came up and thinking they'd all be suffering from their celebrating.

I clawed with my fingernails until I grasped the thick hawser that suspended me from the rafter some fifteen or twenty feet above. I tried pulling myself up, but found I was not strong enough to lift my weight that way although I could maintain a good grip on the rope.

I hung again for a few minutes and thought, ignoring urgent messages from my shoulders to do something soon. Then I pulled my knees up to my chest and, after three painful tries, swung my arms under my feet. I then hung as Susan had and new set of muscles and sinews complained. I rested and then slowly pulled myself up to the ceiling, inch by painful inch, somewhat easier once I got my feet on the rope.

I sat there on the rafter working on the knots with my teeth. That whole process probably took most of an hour. Once I untied myself and lowered my beaten body to the floor. I went looking for some water and clothes, trying to ignore the pain messages my private parts were steadily sending.

The snow on the window sills was the obvious source of water, but when I mounted the gallery stairs, each step a series of new pains, and pulled open one of the dormer windows, sleet drove me back, blasting across my bruised belly. I scooped up a handful of ice and snow and put it in my parched mouth, and then took a double handful and held it to my groin, enjoying the shock of the ice brought, rubbing it in and holding it firmly despite the growing ache, hoping for eventual numbness.

The relief from the throbbing in my bruised, swollen member and aching cods was incredible, and I got more snow and did it again, resting my forehead against the cold window glass, breathing deeply. I sucked down the ice water, held one hand full of icy snow to my privates, tossed more slush into my mouth and rubbed some on my bruised chest and stomach while I thought about what to do next. I finished taking the rope off my sore wrists and tossed it aside. I rubbed snow on my raw, chafed skin.

I pulled up my drawers and torn britches, buttoned what I had left, and shirtless and cold, bruised and hurting from shoulders to knees, went looking for Susan, limping like a old man and feeling at least eighty and arthritic. My tired mind invented a new motto: survival before revenge, revenge before desertion.

The muted sound of singing and laughter led me to toward the side of the assembly hall where she had been taken, and on my third try I discovered a large closet where she sat, completely naked, tied to a straight chair. Her head hung forward. She was asleep and gagged with what was left of her shift. Light showed under the far door that led to the stone barracks. The sounds of roisterous celebration came louder through that door, and the dim light from the great room made everything in the closet gray and black. I bent, took away the gag and shook her shoulder. She yawned and jumped.

"There's another woman here," Susan said as I untied her and gently kissed her salty cheek. "She's in sad shape, I fear.

I found the other woman, rolled into a fetal position in a corner. I touched her back, and she pulled up her knees and whimpered, "No, not again, no more."

"Her name's Snyder, Felicity Snyder," Susan said, pulling on one of the great coats that had been dumped beside her along with our cache of boots. She put two of those on, one a good bit larger than the other. "The officers in the other room were having sport with her until they got too drunk to bother any more. I think she was there because she was a Tory, but I'm not sure. They tore her dress off. She was mad as well as hurt, I know that. I guess it was a good dress. They just threw her in here, perhaps an hour ago, hardly looked at me. Woke me in fact. I hurt all over, lover, inside and out."

The huddled woman wore what was left of a lacy shift, and when she struggled to her feet and put her hands on my shoulders, I could see that she was a true beauty, a ripe and mature woman of thirty-five or so whose rounded hips and full breasts made little Susan look boy-like. Her dark hair tumbled over half her face, and she tossed it back with a graceful gesture. "Thank you," she said in a low voice, "whoever you are."

"I'm a fool," I told her. "Let's get out of here."

"Where are we going?" Susan asked, almost hidden in the dark blue overcoat with a turned up collar.

"Up on the gallery," I said, "If we lie low, under that sloping roof, they may not see us up there behind the furniture. We have to wait till its quiet to try to get out." As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, I saw that the room was filled with crates of ammunition, cartridge boxes and sword belts, as well as dress uniforms and other military equipment.

I offered the Snyder woman one of the German coats which she declined and then gave each of them two cartridge boxes filled with musket ammunition to hang on their shoulders. I was about to lead them back into the hall when a door opened at the far end and a very British voice called out, "Be right back. Tell Rall to go on and deal the cards."

It sounded like the officer who had brutally questioned us and there was no one I wanted to see more. I saw him outlined against a tall window and held my breath, sure it was the man. We watched him walk to his desk and saw him look at the dangling rope where I should have been hanging. "Damn," he said, looking all around the room. "Stupid Germans, told them to leave him there."

He started walking toward the closet where the women and I waited. I turned toward Susan and the tore the coat from her. "Sit where you were," I said. "Head down." I pulled the Snyder woman behind me against the wall, enjoying the firm feel of her body moving under her silken shift. I whispered, "Quiet." She smelled good too.

The Redcoat opened the door wide, saw Susan sitting in her chair, and glanced to his left. I stepped quickly behind him, put my arm around his neck and a hand over his mouth and lifted him off his kicking feet. He squirmed in my grip, and I pressed my forearm harder across his throat and put my knee is his back.

"Be still," I said, "or I'll crack your spine." He was not a very big man, and I think I could have done it.

He relaxed. I tore a leather strap from one of the cartridge boxes and gagged him with it, tying it as tightly as I could behind his head, displacing his fancy wig and tearing at the corners of his mouth. He hair was cut very short, bristly.

Susan pulled her coat back on, and despite my pains, I enjoyed watching her do it. I forced myself not to think about the condition of my poor old battered fid. I twisted the Redcoat's arm up behind his back and the four of us crossed the big room and mounted the short flight of stairs to the gallery. I sent Susan back to the desk for the sergeant's sword and the muskets. She brought them up in two quick trips.

By then I had stripped the officer's jacket from his shoulders and given it to Felicity. It looked a lot better on her, stimulating in fact. When Susan dumped the last two muskets on the nearby couch, I handed her his fancy shirt with its lacy neckcloth, and she shucked out of her coat and put it on. The Snyder woman gasped at the stripes on the small girl's white body.

"Strip off them britches," I told officer after he removed his boots. He loosed his knee buckles and slid them off. I handed them to Susan and she squirmed into them and buttoned the waistband. They reached her ankles.

"You best have a belt," I said and handed her the sergeant's sword belt, after laying his blade and scabbard aside.

"Take off them drawers," I said to the Britisher, and he reluctantly skinned out of his flannels. I made him sit on the floor with his legs stuck out before him and his hands through the railing of the balcony. I used the light rope that had been around my arms to tie his wrists together. Then I kicked him in the belly and watched his eyes widen in pain and surprise. I wished I had remembered to put boots on.

I pulled on his waistcoat and found a fat watch in one pocket and a few gold coins in another. "What time is sunrise these days?" I asked Susan, looking at the officer's fine watch. "It's just after five now."

Susan shook her head and Mrs. Snyder said, "It'll be late today with this weather, perhaps seven or so."

"All right," I said. "I'm going to sleep. Susan can stand first guard. She's been sleeping." I tried a smile on her without much success and handed her the watch. She made a face at me. "Wake me in an hour," I said trying to remember what I had forgotten. I sprawled on one of the wooden benches and despite the pains, was almost immediately asleep.

Chapter 7 »