Page 44 of The Condemned (Echoes from the Past #6)

THIRTY-FIVE

Virginia Colony

The summer dragged on. Mary’s flesh seemed to be melting off her bones as she sweated day after day in the airless cabin, clad in garments more suited to a colder climate, the ever-present flame in the hearth driving the temperature higher.

By evening, her chemise was crusted with dried sweat and her hair was limp and lifeless.

No amount of cool water relieved her relentless thirst, and her normally good appetite was all but gone, her body unable to hold on to anything but the simplest foods.

Travesty seemed to handle the heat better, her face set in grim lines as she baked bread, made pottage, and boiled milk before skimming off the curds to make cheese.

She kept a bucket of water in the corner and splashed her face every time she grew too warm.

Mary took to doing the same. The water warmed up after sitting in the cabin all day long, but it was still refreshing, especially after she’d been standing next to the hearth for so long.

Having seen to the animals, mucked out the stalls, and watered the vegetable garden, all before the sun rose well above the trees, Mary helped herself to a cool drink and settled in to churn the butter.

In the meantime, Travesty had cleared up after breakfast, washed the crockery, and started on the day’s bread.

She was about to turn her attention to the wild turkey Simon must have pilfered from one of Walker’s traps when the door to the cabin flew open.

John supported Simon as he helped him inside.

Mary gasped at the sight of Simon’s blood-soaked hose and pale, sweating face.

His hands were shaking, and his eyes were half closed, as if he were barely conscious.

Mary became flustered, unsure what to do, but Travesty simply instructed John to lay Simon on the bed and remove the hose.

A deep gash that looked like a wide smile dissected Simon’s shin.

It was bleeding profusely and soaked the towel Travesty had placed beneath the calf in minutes.

“Elevate his leg,” Travesty said as she brought the bucket of water from the corner.

“He cut himself with the scythe while harvesting the bottom leaves of the tobacco,” John explained. He looked pale and nervous, his eyes darting from Travesty to Mary. “Shall I fetch the physician?”

“There’s naught the physician can do here,” Travesty replied.

“The bleeding is slowing down already, now the leg is lifted. All he needs is a poultice to keep the wound from festering and a thick bandage. That’ll fix him right up.

It’ll take at least a week for the wound to close properly.

I can sew it up,” she said, her head tilted as she studied the cut.

“No,” Simon moaned. “Please, don’t.”

“Suit yourself,” Travesty replied, as if she were offering him an extra helping of stew.

“Let’s wait and see, shall we?” John said. “You might have to grin and bear it, Simon, if the wound is too deep.”

Simon didn’t reply. He closed his eyes and seemed to drift off, exhausted by hours of hard work, oppressive heat, pain, and loss of blood.

“You’ll have to help me out in the field, Travesty,” John said. “I can’t afford to lose days of work.”

Travesty looked none too pleased but nodded in agreement. “As long as the mistress can look after Simon.”

“I’ll do my best,” Mary replied. She watched as Travesty washed out the wound, smeared it with the foul-smelling poultice she kept on a shelf by the hearth, and wound a length of linen around Simon’s leg. Simon’s eyes remained closed, and his breathing was ragged, but Mary was sure he was awake.

“What’s in that?” John asked, taking a step back.

“Lard, wild garlic, and honey,” Travesty retorted. “If you don’t care for the smell, step outside.”

John didn’t leave but moved over to the table and sat down on the bench furthest from the hearth. “Simon will have to sleep here for the next few days,” he said. “He can’t climb a ladder to his loft in the barn.”

“We can sleep in his loft,” Mary offered. Perhaps it’d be cooler there.

“You go on. I’ll sleep here with Simon, in case he needs anything during the night.”

Mary inclined her head. Of course, John would wish to remain with Simon.

Most likely, Simon had shared John’s bed before Travesty came along and they’d had to begin hiding their relationship.

How much easier it must have been when it’d been just the two of them.

Not for the first time, Mary wondered if Travesty knew.

She never let on, and Mary didn’t expect any confidences.

Travesty understood the value of silence and would do nothing to betray John.

Her livelihood depended on him, and by her own admission, she owed him a debt of gratitude.

She was biding her time until her indenture was up, and she could finally take her place among the free women of the colony.

Mary did sleep in the loft that night but returned to the cabin early in the morning to find John stretched out next to Simon, his arm across Simon’s stomach. The opening of the door woke him, and he yanked his arm back, pretending it’d been an accident.

“How is he?” Mary asked .

“He slept well. I think he’ll be all right,” John replied, clearly relieved Simon’s injury wasn’t more serious. He touched Simon’s cheeks gently. “He’s not fevered.”

“Thank God,” Mary said. John needed Simon to work the land. He couldn’t afford to lose a strong pair of hands during this crucial season.

Simon slept through breakfast but woke after John and Travesty left for the tobacco field. “May I have a drink?” he asked Mary.

“Of course.” Mary poured him some ale and brought it over to the bed. Simon accepted the cup, drank the ale in one swallow, and handed it back to her. Mary nearly lost her footing when he grabbed her around the back of her legs to keep her from moving away from the bed.

“Come here then, fair Mary, and give me a kiss. It’ll make me feel stronger.”

“How dare you?” Mary sputtered. “What would John say if he found out?”

“Not too much, I suspect,” Simon replied with a careless shrug. “Don’t act so indignant. If you’d ever had a real man, you’d know what you’re missing.”

“And you are a real man?” Mary demanded. “I know all about you, Simon. I saw you and John together. You’re a sinner and a sodomite.”

Simon looked up at Mary’s furious face and smiled. Even with his face flushed and covered with dark stubble, and his hair mussed, he was attractive. “I’m not a sodomite, but your husband is.”

“Takes two to do what you were doing,” Mary snapped.

“Yes, it takes two, but only one is doing the deed, and I’m not the one. ”

“What difference does it make?” Mary asked, confused.

“Oh, it makes a world of difference, my girl. I like women. Always have. But John can’t get aroused by a woman.

It’s a glimpse of a hard, quivering cock that does it for him.

It’s me he thinks of when he lies with you.

It’s the only way he can do his duty by his comely wife.

Now I wouldn’t need much encouragement. Come here and I’ll show you. ”

“I’m going to tell John you tried it on with me,” Mary threatened. She found Simon’s advances infuriating and repellent.

“You can tell him, if you like, but don’t expect him to do aught about it,” Simon replied.

“And why wouldn’t he? He’s my husband, like it or not.”

“Because I hold his life in my hands, Mary dear. Sodomy is a crime, a serious one. If Reverend Edison, or the governor, for instance, were to get wind of our John’s proclivities, things wouldn’t go well for him. John has to keep me sweet if he wants to hold on to what’s his.”

“If you’re not a sodomite, then why do you allow him to use you?” Mary asked, wishing she could slap the sly smile off Simon’s face.

“Because allowing him to have his way with my body is a small price to pay for a master who treats me well and loves me above his own wife. And when my indenture is up, John will help me set myself up. I’ll be wanting my own parcel of land to work, and John will see that I get it.”

“You mean you will blackmail him, you heartless scoundrel?”

“Mary, the minute John unlaced his breeches and penetrated me, he put himself at my mercy. He knew it as well as I did. I allow him to make use of me. I even enjoy it from time to time, when he’s in the mood to pleasure me, but I won’t walk away from John without taking what’s owed to me.

I’ve suffered enough at the hands of people who had power over me.

I like how it feels to finally have a bit of leverage over someone else. ”

“Is this what this is? Leverage?” Mary demanded, hands on hips.

Simon inched his hand up her thigh and grabbed hold of her bottom, cupping it suggestively.

“I won’t force you, Mary. I’m not a bad man.

But know that I can have you any time I want, and John will not lift a finger to help you.

Now that you’re his wife, you belong to me as surely as he does.

You can thank him for that. John thinks he’s working for himself and his future children, but he’s working for me and mine.

Make no mistake, mistress, I won’t let this opportunity pass me by. ”

“You’re despicable,” Mary gasped. She pressed down on his wound, making Simon cry out and let her go.

She took a hasty step back, getting well out of his reach.

To her, Simon no longer looked handsome.

He was ugly and twisted, and she’d seen the eyes of the snake behind his innocent blue gaze.

“What’s made you so cruel?” she asked, shaking her head in dismay.

Mary was surprised to see Simon’s features crumple. Gone was the manipulator, replaced by a man who wanted her sympathy. All the bravado seemed to go out of him, leaving behind a weak, injured man. Simon’s eyes grew misty, as if he were remembering something painful.