Alan Rickman Flights of Fancy

"Mary Anne, the one thing I was thinking of when I started this… and during, and after, is my friends. I did it all for you…"

Sifuentes shifted position, ready to jump between them again as he anticipated Mary Anne's burst of anger. But it didn't come. Mary Anne's eyes narrowed, but she was going to hear what Claudia had to say, no matter how odd or cold she seemed at that moment.

"You did what for us, exactly?"

"I knew you'd probably hate me when you found out. I talked with Ed, I tried to break away from him so he wouldn't be hurt by anything I've had to do. I knew from the beginning that the person who was going to suffer most, to lose the most, was myself. But I still did it, because you all mean so much to me."

Claudia rubbed her hands over her face, as if very tired, then pulled them away and looked Mary Anne directly in the eye. "I had the opportunity to infiltrate HIS organisation, at HIS invitation. I couldn't tell anyone, because word would get back to HIM, eventually. So I had to make it look as if I'd abandoned my friends to go to HIM. I've done a lot of things I don't want to tell you about, but I'll tell you I've sacrificed myself on this quest. I planned to learn enough to bring HIM down. But just as I was getting close… the Alliance and Unit raided HIS domain. I could have got them so much more, if they'd just waited… If they'd known."

Mary Anne breathed deeply, trying to take it all in. This sounded like something the old Claudia would have done, gone off on some fool mission, by herself. But could she trust the words of someone who had voluntarily done the bidding of the Interrogator? No matter what she said, she'd used that drug on Christopher, and there was no telling what else she'd done. A light switch clicked in Mary Anne's head and she shivered. Was it possible? "Therese?" she breathed.

Claudia looked startled, and bit her lip. "She was one of my tasks… but one I didn't get to complete. I was to deliver her to HIM. But she ran straight into HIS arms all by herself. I swear!"

"That makes it better? Do you know what Therese went through? And you planned to take her to HIM yourself? I don't know you, Claudia."

"It would have been better if I had taken her, yes. Mary Anne! Look at me. I'm not lying to you! If I'd taken Therese to HIM, I would have been there. I could have distracted HIM, done what I could to keep her safe until I could help her escape. The way it turned out, I was just about under house arrest here, and I could do nothing to help her."

"You knew where she was, the whole time? You knew where HE was, and you chose to say NOTHING!?"

"Mary Anne, you have to believe ME! I was thinking of the big picture. I had to keep everyone ignorant of what I was doing, so I could get to HIM – finally and completely rid the Realm of the Interrogator. I thought it worth a little suffering, to bring down the WHOLE organisation."

Mary Anne thought of all Therese had been through, was still going through, because of Claudia. Because of Claudia! Mary Anne felt ill. What could she believe of what she was being told? "How dare you! How dare you decide just what suffering is all right for someone else. Have you any idea what happened to Therese?"

Claudia had tried to persuade Mary Anne that her motives had been good, but she had a feeling she'd failed. Mary Anne was not going to believe or forgive her.
Claudia
oh, dear... I can't look!, - Sunday, April 30, 2000 at 20:19:42 (PDT)

Kate, my dear! (Big hug, Diggory Venn style) But if you wait until you're all caught up, you may never get to play . . . *wink* How far along are you?

MA
So good to "see" you again! 8-), - Sunday, April 30, 2000 at 19:08:23 (PDT)

Claudia raises her eyes to Mary Anne, who is obviously far from finished.

"As I was saying," says Mary Anne tightly, "you could have gotten Christopher killed, or yourself, or both. But that's not all there is--"

"What else?" asks Claudia quietly. She does not mean to sound cold or callous; truly, she does not. But perhaps her effort to control herself succeeds a little too well. The voice that is steady and calm to Claudia is callous, nonchalant, unfeeling--She must have a heart of STONE!--to Mary Anne, who at last boils over.

"What else?!" she cries, launching herself forward, heedless of the consequences if she might for one moment--one second, even--get her hands on . . .

But Mary Anne had reckoned without Sifuentes. Even as Claudia jumps up and backs away, knocking over her chair in her haste, Scout has already gotten a firm grip on Mary Anne's shoulder and is drawing her backward to her own seat. She stands still for a moment, closing her eyes and breathing hard, and does not even think of struggling further; she would just as soon think of wrestling with one of the monoliths of Stonehenge.

"All right, Mary Anne?" Sifuentes inquires after a moment, his tone sympathetic but businesslike.

She nods. "Yes. You can let go now."

He does let go, but waits until Mary Anne is seated again before he nods to Claudia to resume her own seat and takes up his stance by the wall once more.

Mary Anne stares down at her clenched hands, afraid that she'll lose her temper again if she looks at Claudia. "What else, indeed. Well, there's this."

She must look up, now. Impossible to say what she has to say, without looking to see if it has any effect at all.

"You're my friend." A pause. "Or, at least, you were."

There is another long silence.

"Doesn't that mean anything to you?" says Mary Anne, finally, in a voice from which all anger has departed. A soft, inquiring murmur--not the voice of an angel, but of a weary woman faced with a betrayal she can scarcely comprehend. "It did, to me. It does. When I think about how it was, before, all of us together and our adventures . . ."

Back in the good old days, thinks Claudia, but doesn't say it. It might be taken for sarcasm, and that's the last thing she wants right now.

"All we went through. The Safehouses, and the stay in the Manor in Egdon. We had some fine times."

Claudia wisely refrains from pointing out to Mary Anne that there were bad times, as well. Hair-raising, in fact. If she remembered those times she was captured by HIM, would she be so nostalgic?

"And then, after all that time--to marry Christopher, and have you all with me at my wedding. It made me so happy, to have all of my friends around me like this--"

Claudia finally plucks up enough courage to speak. "I'm surprised the Colonel hasn't thrown us all out by now," she offers with just a bit of a smile. "Most couples want to be alone during the honeymoon."

Amazingly, Mary Anne returns the tiny smile. "Privacy isn't a problem in a house this size. You were all welcome here . . ." Her smile fades, then, and she faces Claudia squarely, eye to eye.

"Well, being sentimental isn't getting us anywhere. But can't you see why I feel the way I do? Even though you didn't hurt Christopher and things have turned out all right--more or less--just the idea that you could do this . . ." Mary Anne shakes her head. "It's as if you died. Or worse. I feel like I've lost you, even though you're sitting right there in front of me."

She's not crying yet, thinks Claudia, but she will be in a few minutes. And so will I, if I let this go on . . .

Mary Anne raises her hands in a gesture of helplessness, then lets them fall again into her lap, as if she has finally lost her grasp upon a burden too heavy to hold. "I feel like I don't even know you. And it isn't just me--what about Ed? And the boys? How could you turn your back on a good man who loves you so much, not to mention your own children!"

Mary Anne stops, alarmed by the sound of her own ragged breathing. That Claudia could hear all of this and just sit without making a sound . . .

"Well, all right," Mary Anne sighs, pushing back her chair. "I certainly don't have anything else to say, if you don't--"

"But I do."

Startled, Mary Anne remains frozen for a moment, staring at Claudia, then settles back down into her chair.

Claudia swallows. Here goes . . .

MA--over to you, Clods! ;-)
Hankies, everyone . . ., - Sunday, April 30, 2000 at 19:04:17 (PDT)

I'm trying to catch up so that I can come out and play...
Kate Jones <rickmaniac@ilovethemovies.com>
Alexandria, VA USA - Sunday, April 30, 2000 at 18:38:42 (PDT)

"Day the Sixty-sixth, in the month of January – In which Adam and I have a man-to-man discussion - I think."

After she'd finished heaving everything she could lift at me, Joya charged into the kitchen and down the stairs to the cellar. I was right behind her all the way. There was no pounding or muffled shouts for help from behind the barred door, which I took to be vindication of my plan. Before I could point that out, however, Joya lifted the wooden bar and threw open the door.

Adam and Melisant were standing almost on the threshold. Melisant's cheeks were streaked with tears. Adam was pale but forced a weak smile. I craned my neck so I could examine the room behind them. A couple of candles flickered in the gloom so they'd managed to find the flints but the makeshift bed was untouched and the basket of food still on top of the covers. The goblets were in pieces on the floor and the flagon of wine had been knocked over. Most peculiar, I thought. These were not auspicious signs.

"Oh Lady Joya!" Melisant blubbered. "Thank the Lord above you found us! It's been a terrifying experience!" Then she burst into gusting sobs and ran past us up the steps. Joya hesitated for a moment, glanced at Adam, glared at me and then followed Melisant.

Adam sighed deeply. "Well, thank God you arrived. I would like to get my hands on the servant who barred the door but right now I'm just glad it's over."

"The door wasn't barred when we got here. That door has a nasty habit of sticking shut. That's why we leave it open." I cleared my throat. "Uh, what exactly happened in there?"

"Oh, George! You don't want to know." He walked past me and sat down on the bottom step, dropping his head into his hands. "I was no better than an animal."

"Really?" This sounded more promising. I leaned against the door and folded my arms, ready for the sordid details. "How so?"

"When I got here, the door was barred and I could hear Melisant crying. I couldn't stand the idea of her being afraid so I rushed in and tripped over a pile of sacks or something on the floor. I knocked over a jug and broke something else. Well, by this time she was really upset so I tried to tell her it was only me and not to be afraid. While I was grappling along the floor, I slipped on some candles. There were flints there and I got a light so I could see what I was doing." He paused and licked his lips, a dull flush mantling his cheeks. "When Melisant saw it was me, she cried harder. I thought to offer her comfort so I set the candle down and took her in my arms. She…she hit me."

Annoying, of course, but it seemed like nothing he couldn't have handled. It's when they hit you with something sharp that you have to be careful. Frowning, I cautiously probed. "How hard?"

"Really, barely a tap. She's only a girl, after all." He dismissed the idea of harm with a wave of his hand. "But when I tried to calm her fears, she just cried harder. Nothing seemed to work. She just begged me again and again to open the door and let her out. Since she was just getting more upset I concentrated on getting the door open." He stopped, his jaw working. "But I could not get the door to open, no matter how hard I pushed. When I told Melisant that, she refused to believe me. And then she hit me again."

I still couldn't see what the problem was. He'd had lots of opportunity but for some reason, Adam had been reluctant to get on with it. "Did you at least get a kiss?"

"No!" He stared at me, aghast. "It was bad that I sought to embrace her while she was distraught. To have forced my attentions on her in such a state would have the actions of a total fiend."

Well, at least he understood what he was supposed to have done. I was beginning to think I should have prepared an illustration for him. But I was still perplexed that he seemed to think Melisant's agreement counted for something. I pondered this strange attitude for a moment while Adam rubbed his temples.

With another deep sigh, he stood up. "Apparently she thinks I somehow trapped her. She said she never wants to see me again. I need not tell you that my motive in embracing her was simple compassion for her distress. As a former Crusader, you would understand the reverence with which I regard her." We walked up the steps and through the empty kitchen.

"Uh, yes, of course I understand." The hall was also deserted. I looked around but there was no sign of Joya and Melisant. Hopefully, they were upstairs in one of the bedrooms. I glanced at Adam. "I'm sure that once she gets over her fright that everything will be fine."

Adam flopped into one of the great chairs by the hearth. "No, I don't think so. I might as well tell you the truth George. I have fallen in love with Melisant. I know, I know," He raised one hand to ward off any comments I might make. "She's pledged to another. You don't have to remind me. But I thought that somehow we could be together, that the betrothal could be broken."

"Well, it's possible, I suppose." I frowned in pretended concentration. "It's more common than you might think. It would take a fair amount of gold but since your family is well off -"

"No, George. I'm afraid that's over now. I have betrayed the trust of the lady I love and she will never forgive me. And rightly so." He lay back in the chair and closed his eyes, his fist gently beating the arm of the chair. "I should have known that she was too pure and innocent to think of embracing in such a horrendous situation. I thought I was being kind but now that I think about it, I realize I was motivated by impure lust."

I eyed him with impatient annoyance. It seemed to me that Adam spent too much time thinking and not enough time doing when he had the perfect chance. But it would be useless to talk to him when he was wallowing in guilt. I would have to come up with another plan.

But one thing was sure: dinner would be a pretty frigid affair. Four people not on speaking terms with each other wouldn't make for a lively party atmosphere.

"Of the events of these days, I swear to describe them true and whole. On my oath, as I hope to become Lord Nottingham and High Sheriff again.

Magda
- Sunday, April 30, 2000 at 07:16:57 (PDT)

And just what, exactly, does Mary Anne think of Claudia?

Mary Anne is prepared to launch forth on this very subject, with appropriate embellishments regarding Claudia's ancestry, personal habits, and probable relationship with various lower life forms, particularly those of the rodent and reptile families--but at the very last moment, she manages to draw back and reconsider, though she does not understand why. Not at first.

She had not missed how Claudia flinched away from her. Claudia, of all women, who is "brave as a barrel full of bears." Mary Anne almost smiles at the thought of that funny poem occurring to her at just this moment, but there is little here to smile about. Knowing that there isn't much that can intimidate Claudia, Mary Anne can make a few guesses about what sort of look must have been on her face to provoke that reaction.

What sort of look--whose sort of look, more likely . . .

Then there is the way Sifuentes is watching them, without seeming to. Leaning against the wall, but obviously prepared to step in at the first sign of trouble. And though Mary Anne is stronger than her delicate appearance would suggest, she is under no illusions about what would happen if Scout took it upon himself to close the interview.

Last, though certainly not least in Mary Anne's reasoning--there is Brandon. How would he wish for her to behave? That would be a great credit to him, wouldn't it? If I raise my voice to Claudia and really let myself go, then it'll be all over the house that the missus was screeching like a fishwife . . .

Mary Anne returns to her seat, noting that Sifuentes shifts his position along the wall and that Claudia exhales noticeably, though she is still braced for a clash of some sort.

Get it over with, thinks Mary Anne, as she locks her hands together to keep them still, and says quietly, "I'll keep this short."

Not like my talks with Renie--that'll be a relief to Claudia, won't it? She always said we went on and on . . .

Resisting the temptation to go on and on in memory, Mary Anne presses forward.

"It isn't just what you did, Claudia . . . it's how you did it. That drug--do you have ANY idea how dangerous that is!"

Claudia trembles, despite herself, and it is neither cold nor fear that makes her shiver. When The Interrogator had injected her . . . it was like being burned alive in her own desire. "I--yes, it's very powerful . . ." She stops herself, before she can lick her lips.

"Powerful isn't the half of it. Christopher could have died from taking it; his heart was beating so fast. Did you stop to think about that?" She leans forward. "Did you? He could have died!"

Claudia does not answer.

"Or," continues Mary Anne, "he could have killed you, and then there he'd be, trying to explain how this dead woman ended up in . . ." Mary Anne's face works, and she cannot finish the sentence.

"He said--" falters out Claudia. She tries again. "He did say something along those lines, but I thought it was just the drug talking. He wouldn't--"

"Of course it was the drug!" snaps Mary Anne. "It wrecks your mind--the only thing it doesn't stimulate is your inhibitions. It absolutely flattens those. That's how it's designed, to shut down all the higher learned functions like morality and ethics and to bring out the more primitive instincts--"

Claudia gazes curiously at Mary Anne. "How do you know so much about how this drug is designed?"

"I--" Mary Anne stops abruptly and looks down at the floor, but finally replies, "HE gave it to Christopher once before, then locked us up together. I think HE hoped I'd be assaulted and Christopher would be shamed and disgraced." A cold look. "Just what HE seemed to be aiming for this time, as well." Then, more gently: "Don't you remember? It was when we--" A pained hesitation. "--we thought Renie was dead. The Doctor came and rescued us from HIM. Didn't you notice how sick Christopher was when we boarded the Tardis?"

Claudia searches her memory. Yes; Mary Anne had seen the effects before at much too close range--that would explain her knowledge of how the drug works, but Claudia can't help feeling dissatisfied at that explanation. She has this feeling . . . something about Mary Anne . . .

Abruptly, another memory surfaces and Claudia cannot help smiling, just a little. "The Colonel was sick," she answers, "but from what I remember, Mary Anne, he got well again pretty fast. Remember when we were walking in the Tardis gardens and we found him out there chopping wood?"

The attempt almost succeeds. Mary Anne's face lights up as if she would laugh over that memory, but then the cold, rigid expression returns, as if to say to Claudia: You'll not get around me that way.

Yes, Mary Anne's face is like stone, and so is her voice. "As I was saying--"

Claudia sighs a little. This is going to be every bit as bad as she had thought . . .
MA
(Measuring post) No, not "MA and Renie chat" length . . . yet. 8-), - Thursday, April 27, 2000 at 20:59:08 (PDT)

"I couldn't tell anyone. I had to make a quick decision that would affect the lives of many, not least of all myself. I had to take the chance, knowing that I could lose all my friends and the man I loved." Claudia looked down at her hands briefly, flexing her fingers, looking at a ring that wasn't there.

Mary Anne so wanted to jump in, to scream at Claudia What were you thinking of?! Are you mad? but she bit her tongue, saving her words for after she'd heard what Claudia had to say.

"I slipped away, I went to HIM. I had to prove myself to HIM, gain his trust. I took on tasks that I knew would affect my friends, but I carried them out in such a way that no one would get hurt. Mary Anne, you must believe me – I have no designs on your husband. I had to make it look like I'd seduced him, to prove my loyalty to the Interrogator, but I would not have actually…"

The colour in Mary Anne's cheeks rose, and the coolness of her blue eyes turned to fire as she could contain herself no longer. She stood, bringing herself to her full height. Claudia actually flinched. "Loyalty to the Interrogator?! What about loyalty to your friends? What did HE offer you that could make you turn your back on your friends?!"

Claudia realised belatedly, that Mary Anne hadn't seen her report. Didn't know the details. Didn't realise what she'd been trying to say. Standing there, Mary Anne, in all her subtle beauty, somehow reminded her of HIM. And Claudia knew she wasn't going to get to explain herself before she'd been told exactly what Mary Anne thought of her.
Claudia
uh-oh - watch out for the fireworks, - Wednesday, April 26, 2000 at 17:44:21 (PDT)

When Sifuentes unlocked the door to the small room and Mary Anne entered, she saw the back of Claudia's head, hair damp from recent washing. Claudia was curiously looking up at the corner where two walls joined the ceiling. It looked as if she was making a detailed study of a wayward cobweb.

At the sound of the door being closed and relocked, Claudia turned, a smile quickly spreading on her face. Mary Anne checked the automatic response to smile back at a friend, and leveled a frosty stare at Claudia.

"I'm glad you came," said Claudia, walking towards Mary Anne. "I didn't think you would."

"That's close enough," warned Sifuentes.

"You mean because of what my husband would have to say about it?"

Claudia held up her hands as if in surrender and perched on the edge of the table. "You know he was quite insistent I stay away from you. I'm sure he gave you equally strict orders to keep away from me."

"Let's get one thing straight. I'm not here to listen to idle speculation about my marriage. You wanted to talk – I'm here to listen, then perhaps afterwards you'll hear what I have to say on the subject."

Mary Anne's fists were clenched and the nails biting into her palms as she tried to contain all her mixed emotions on the subject of Claudia… and her husband.

"Sit down," sighed Claudia. "It's a long story, and it isn't what you think."

Sifuentes pulled out a chair, a safe distance from the table and Claudia and Mary Anne sat down, clasping her hands in her lap. "Go on." She bit out.

"OK… when the Interrogator contacted me in the guise of the highwayman on your wedding night, and dared me to go away with HIM, I thought it an opportunity too good to give up.

So it was true. By her own admission, Claudia had willingly gone to the Interrogator.
Claudia
To be continued... very soon!, - Tuesday, April 25, 2000 at 23:52:03 (PDT)

Delaford:

Mary Anne stands at the doorway with her hand raised, listening to the sounds from within the room. Judging from those noises, Dev seems to be engaged in some sort of playful wrestling with Nox, who is responding with delighted little yips and barks as he is encouraged by the giggling Therese.

Mary Anne smiles, but hesitates to knock. They had asked for her to visit, and yet she does not feel exactly comfortable with the idea of walking in on them at this particular moment. Eamon de Valera, as she has reason to know, is a very dignified man but that dignity has been sorely tried these past few days at Delaford; perhaps he would not mind all that much if she were to walk in on him after he has been roughhousing about with a dog, but she feels the impulse to spare him yet another moment in which she catches him out as less than the stately presence he prefers to show the world.

It's different with Therese; he doesn't mind it from her. But with me, well . . .

She will wait a bit, come back a little later.

Mary Anne turns from the door, just in time to see Hudson and Sifuentes waiting for her at the head of the stairs. Careful to make no noise that would betray her presence to Dev and Therese--not that they could hear her at the moment--Mary Anne hurries over to the staircase.

"Yes, Commander?" A nod to the lieutenant. "Mister Sifuentes."

He returns her nod, before Hudson interrupts. "Mary Anne, I'm glad we were able to find you. You're needed downstairs."

An anxious look from Mary Anne. "What's happened?" Then, in alarm: "It's not Christopher, is it? Nothing else has happened--?"

Hudson shakes her head. "No, nothing like that. But . . . well, I'm sure you know that Claudia's been brought in--turned herself in, actually--"

Mary Anne. Tight-lipped. "Yes. I know."

Hudson gets straight to the point. "She has asked to see you."

A long silence.

"She has, has she?" Softly. Then: "Me? Not my husband?"

Hudson and Sifuentes exchange glances, before Hudson clears her throat and proceeds. "That's right. Apparently, from what we've been able to piece together of the . . . events . . . Colonel Brandon threatened Claudia at one point. So it's understandable that she, ah, would not feel safe in his presence."

Mary Anne nods. "Quite understandable." A pause. "But she does feel safe in mine, is that it?"

Lieutenant "Scout" Sifuentes feels a chill pass over him at Mary Anne's expression; Hudson feels that same shiver, but is more aware of its source. That thin, humourless smile--the Commander has seen that particular look before, though not on Mary Anne's face. But it is there and gone so quickly that Scout blinks at the sudden change, and Hudson continues undaunted as they move slowly down the stairs.

"I promised her I would ask you if you would see her. And Mary Anne, I urge you to consider it; this could be important to what we find out about The Interrogator and HIS organization. I know that what happened has upset you very much--"

"Brilliant deduction," snaps Mary Anne. "Your time around Sherlock Holmes wasn't wasted, I see."

Hudson ignores the tone; she has heard far worse. "As I was saying: it upset you, but no lasting harm appears to have been done--"

Mary Anne comes to a full stop. "No harm?" she breathes. "No harm? Let me tell you a few things, Mrs. Hudson--"

The Commander has to stifle a smile at that "Mrs. Hudson," freighted as it is with memories of the Baker Street days. "Tell them to Claudia," she suggests, putting a steadying arm about Mary Anne's shoulders as they near the bottom of the staircase. "She's the one who needs to hear them, I'd think."

"You said she asked to speak to me, so it's not likely she'd listen to much of anything I said. Do you know what she wants to speak to me about?"

"She said she needed to . . ." Hudson eyes Mary Anne cautiously.

"Well?"

"She wants to ask your forgiveness."

"Oh, Lord," mutters Mary Anne, sinking down to sit on the stairs and lowering her face into her hands. "She tries to seduce my husband--on HIS orders--and now she wants to ask me to forgive her. That's rich." Finally, she raises her head. "You're being awfully quiet, Mister Sifuentes. What do you think about all of this?"

He glances at Hudson for permission before answering, "Do you think you can forgive her, Mrs. Brandon? Ever?"

Mary Anne thinks. "Perhaps. Things didn't turn out as badly as they could have." Although, she reflects darkly, I'll be saying a few things to Claudia about just HOW bad it could have been! That drug . . . "Forgiveness--yes. Trust?" She shakes her head. "No. Not for a long time."

Sifuentes nods. "Then if you feel you can forgive, I'd suggest that you try. Hate's like poison. Believe me, I know."

"So do I."

Mary Anne gets to her feet. "All right. I think I'm ready now." Her hands press nervously against the skirt of her gown, smoothing out wrinkles. "Where is she?"

Hudson leads Mary Anne toward the room where Claudia is being held, while Sifuentes walks behind them, his lips pursed in rueful amusement as he watches Mary Anne's determined walk and her rigid, straight-backed posture. You don't notice that she's a tall woman, not until moments like this . . .

Then they are at the door, flanked by guards, and Mary Anne turns to Hudson. "There will have to be a guard in the room while we talk. I promised the Colonel I wouldn't be alone with . . . her."

Hudson nods. "Mister Sifuentes, would you do the honours?"

"Yes, ma'am. It would be my pleasure."

At Scout's gesture, the guard turns the key in the lock, and Sifuentes takes Mary Anne by the arm as gently as if leading her out to dance. "Shall we?"

MA--hope everyone has had a Happy Easter. And Happy Birthday to Shax, of course!
Yours, Claudia, if you wish . . . *grin*, - Sunday, April 23, 2000 at 21:03:02 (PDT)

"Day the Sixty-sixth, in the month of January – In which I share my plan with Joya - to my regret."

"Of all the stupid, idiotic, demented -"

"Look, if you'd just give it a little more time -" The book sailed past my ear and slammed into the wall behind me.

" - moronic, thick-headed, lack-witted -"

"Well, it could work!" This time I barely managed to duck before Joya hurled the goblet at me.

" - imbecilic ideas, that one takes the tournament prize!" She snatched up the other goblet. Her hair rioted over her shoulders and her eyes sparkled. "How could you do such a thing? What were you thinking of?"

"I'm just trying to speed things up." Never had I seen her so furious - and so desirable. I shifted position slightly. "Trust me: poetry reading was not going to work. Adam's a man, not a boy at school. You've got to appeal to his baser appetites."

"And you're the expert in that area, I suppose." Joya glared at me but the initial impulse to murder seemed exhausted. I relaxed slightly, safe again but ready to take cover if I had to.

I suppose I should have explained the whole thing as soon as Joya returned to the hall after her fruitless search for Melisant. She looked completely perplexed. "Melisant is not in her room, George, or anywhere at all up there. Are you sure that's where she said she was going?"

"Well, that's where she said she was going. But she's so nervous around me, who knows what she really meant?" I tossed the quill on the table and stretched my arms over my head. "And since Adam went off in pursuit of her, we won't be seeing them for a while."

Smiling, Joya strolled to her chair by the fire and picked up her sewing. "Ah, so that's the way of it. Well, I suppose you're right. They certainly won't be rushing back here."

"I think I can guarantee that." I smiled back, thinking of the thickness of the crossbar on the cellar door.

"You know, George, the past three weeks have been exhausting for me." She settled herself in the great chair. "I'm just not cut out to be a lady-in-waiting. I wouldn't last more than a few hours at court."

A vision of King Richard's court came to mind: colourful and martial, rich with the imported luxuries of the east and yet at the same time, cold and uncongenial. Everyone wore a sword even in the most formal settings; everyone felt they would have been fools not to. Women were confined to the queen's quarters, huddling around the sad and distant figure of Queen Berengaria. No, I could not imagine a worse setting for Joya.

"No, France is the place." Joya pulled her needle through the cloth, a colourful thread trailing behind. "I long for sunny Provence. Nothing to do all day but read and drink wine. And dally with handsome young men." She smiled and stitched another row.

I frowned. Of course what Joya and I had was simply a pleasant interlude in both our lives; when it was over, we would probably never see each other again. We might travel to France together but I would be there only long enough to gather the men I needed to take back my home. I probably wouldn't go as far south as Paris, let alone down to Provence. And it wasn't as if we were in love or anything. I mean, I was fond of her but there were plenty of other women around. It was only in this isolated lodge that I had to make due with one particular woman. But I didn't like the idea of Joya thinking about other men. It irritated me.

"Well," I picked up my quill again. "In that case, it's a good thing I decided to push things along. We won't have long to wait after this afternoon."

Joya looked up, her hand pausing in mid-stitch. "Why? What's going to happen this afternoon?"

"It should have happened already." I tried to keep the exultation out of my voice. Gloating is so peasant-like. "Adam and Melisant have discovered the pleasures of the flesh. By suppertime, marrying them will be strictly a formality."

She dropped her sewing on the floor and stood up slowly. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What are you talking about? Where are they?"

"They're locked in the cellar with a couple of mattresses and a flagon of good wine." I gave up trying to be modest; it really was too much of a triumph. "Yes, they should be enjoying themselves mightily by now. And of course, they're both younger than we are. We might have to toss a bucket of cold water over them before -"

That's when she reached down and grabbed the book, and I dove for cover.

"Of the events of these days, I swear to describe them true and whole. On my oath, as I hope to become Lord Nottingham and High Sheriff again.

Magda
- Saturday, April 22, 2000 at 10:05:16 (PDT)

Italics fixed.
Do you really want HIM to answer that?
D.o.C.

ACCCKKK! *sigh* D.o.C., if you please . . .

MA
Any room in that cell for me, Mister I . . . ?, - Friday, April 21, 2000 at 21:15:45 (PDT)

The Interrogator, thinking of Claudia:

Just in case HE is being watched, The Interrogator makes a point of appearing relaxed and at ease on the narrow bed, stretching the tension from his arms and legs . . . his fingers currrrrllll into fists, then open again and fan wide as his powerful shoulders flex, before he settles back against the thin pillow, locks his hands behind his head in a posture of elaborate unconcern, and thinks.

Claudia. HE is certain he has not seen the last of her; indeed, he would be sorry if he had, for the time spent with her was most . . . interesting.

The Interrogator, however HIS victims might regard him and his powers, is a man like other men and cannot avoid certain involuntary . . . responses . . . at the memory of Claudia. Yes. Considering physical aspects only, she was certainly all that any man could ask. Any man in his senses . . . Enough to drive some men out of them. HIS lids half-close, shuttering the gleam in his eyes as he recalls the tremor that had passed through her while they sat together on the softly-draped bed, when he whispered that he would not hurt her. This time.

Her skin, like silk under HIS hands as he stroked her long, taut limbs, persuading her to relax, let go of her fears, and trust herself to him--as much as she would trust herself to anyone. And she had truly surprised him by the extent to which she would let go: not since his days with Renie--HE is prepared for the pang of memory and stifles it automatically--had he been with a woman so capable of abandoning herself to the pleasure of what is, no matter what is yet to be. Fire in his arms, and softness, and the tumble of her hair as he removed the pins from it, its thickness and gleam and fragrance . . .

Ahhhhh. Those pins. The way he had coaxed Claudia's hair into a style that duplicated Mary Anne's. His eyes open as a thought occurs to him: Claudia and Mary Anne resemble each other more closely than he had suspected. It had been an amusing charade to try and make Claudia over into Mary Anne, though Claudia had refused to play, saying that she wouldn't be Mary Anne for him, or Renie, or anyone except herself.

She and Mary Anne are mirror images of each other. True mirror images--the reversed reflection. Claudia, the woman who faces her fears boldly by stepping forward to confront them, who enjoys presenting an Amazonian image of toughness and self-assurance, harbours depths of tenderness and a craving for love and gentleness that few would ever suspect. HE is no fool and is trained to observe; her secrets are no secrets to him.

Mary Anne, on the other hand, presents the appearance of delicacy and subtlety as if a strong wind could carry her away like thistledown. And though she does share with Claudia that longing for love and the appreciation of it where she finds it, well . . . who knows, if HE does not, the surprises she can call forth?

Involuntarily, The Interrogator's hand strays to his chest. A slight wince of remembrance. Not the sort who would simply walk into my offices and ask for a position as my assistant! Not her style at all.

But other surprises . . . yes. In plenty.

However, HE does not allow himself to dwell for long on the subject of Mary Anne; he finds it painful, for obvious reasons. But more strangely still, he find he cannot hate her as he feels he should. The recollection of all that had passed between them confuses and troubles him and he forces it away, running quickly through various intellectual drills to clear his mind, and the last thought he allows himself concerning Mary Anne, for the moment, is that--the same as with Claudia--he hopes he will see her again.

Oh, yes. He does not simply hope for this event, but will do all in his power to bring it about . . . if, that is, he can free himself from his present difficulties.

Dismissing for the moment his dream of fair women, The Interrogator removes his glasses, idly wipes the lenses against the pillowcase, then lifts them and studies the overhead lighting through them as if to ascertain that they are clean and unstreaked, while tugging gently at the earpieces, testing that they are still firmly attached. This check of his eyewear completed, The Interrogator replaces his glasses and allows his thoughts to turn once again to Claudia.

I wonder what has happened to her . . . and how she performed at the last task I set for her.

A chilly grin, almost a grimace.

It could be that her predicament is worse than mine . . .

MA--How's this, Clods?
Frankly, I think HE was quite impressed . . . ;-), - Friday, April 21, 2000 at 21:13:27 (PDT)

"You think I want to recruit you? I admire your confidence, Claudia. But you've shown yourself to be irresponsible and reckless. You're not the sort of person I would think could follow orders unquestioningly."

"True. But you asked the guard to leave, so she couldn't overhear what we were talking about," Claudia leant forward across the table, and grasped Commander Hudson's hand. "And I am in trouble here. Despite trying to act in the best interests of my friends, I've done some things to gain the Interrogator's trust that they will want me punished for. If there were someway I could redeem myself in their eyes, it would be worth it. Send me to HIM, so I can finish what I started. Let me show them that I was on their side all along. That I'm still a person they can trust."

Commander Hudson shook her head and sighed. "You're a brave woman, if all you've said is true. You've lost a lot to do what you think is right, and I admire that. Perhaps you would benefit from the proper training, and be more use to all of us."

"Then you'll let me go?"

"I'll think on it. In the meantime, I'll arrange for you to freshen up and have a change of clothes sent for you. Is there anything else you need?"

"I want to talk to Mary Anne. I need to explain a few things. I need to ask her forgiveness."

Commander Hudson snorted. Not her usual controlled response. "You ARE a brave woman. Are you sure you want to talk with Mrs Brandon now? Perhaps it would be best after your confession is out in the open."

"My REPORT. And yes, I want to see her before I leave the house. The longer I leave it, the worse it will be."

"Very well," Commander Hudson rose, and knocked 3 times on the door. The sound or a key turning in the lock from the otherside. "I will ASK Mary Anne if she will see you. I can't promise anything."

"Thank you. That's all I ask."
Claudia
Waiting with anticipation MA!, - Friday, April 21, 2000 at 18:06:06 (PDT)

The Imperial Palace:

The Interrogator, resting in HIS cell.

After his last encounter with The Empress, the guards had returned him to a different cell, and when he had recovered enough to take notice, he had seen that his new quarters are quite different: larger, though by no means spacious, and somehow airier, though there is no access to the outdoors, no window, no view . . . but the effect is there, just the same.

That quality of light--artificially generated, of course, but close to the wavelength of natural sunlight. Touches of colour, but nothing garish. Even though shaken from the preliminary questioning, HE had smiled to note that these colours are in the approved range of the "soothing" spectrum that will induce quietness and tranquillity in the viewer--the pale, cool blues and greens.

Gleaming cleanliness, though his previous cell had certainly not been dirty. A real bed. A bit narrow for his tastes, though it will seem the height of luxury after a wall cot with rough sheets and thin blankets. And on this bed The Interrogator now resposes, thinking.

A cell. More comfortable, but a cell, nevertheless; no dungeon ugliness in the room itself, but there, where the wall should be . . . the framework of iron and unbreakable plexiglass and the sliding steel of the doorway . . . HE studies it for evidence of an alarm trigger, some electronic warning system, but to all appearances it is a straightforward lock, opened with a key.

HE knows better, however, than to trust to appearances.

The Empress, for example. What an infuriating woman she is. How maddening. And how fascinating. HE admits it freely, at least to himself, for it is a while since he has encountered so formidable an opponent in the game of keeping an adversary off-balance. It cannot be denied that she plays the game with the ruthless finesse of a champion chessmaster. These surroundings . . . they would appear to be a reward for his slight gesture of submission in the dungeons. That is how most people would read it, he smiles to himself. I gave in somewhat, and am rewarded by more comfortable quarters, with the implied promise that there will be further comforts if I cooperate. Yet he is uncomfortably certain that The Empress was not at all taken in by his little performance while he was chained to the column; she could have another motive entirely. Another tactic, perhaps, for keeping me sharp. Perhaps I am more interesting to her this way--in top form for her mind games. I'd wager she seldom meets an opponent whose intelligence approaches her own . . .

Abruptly, HE stops his thoughts as he sees which way they are tending. Do not allow yourself to feel flattered. If she can touch your vanity, you're a puppet on a chain, then. She can do with you as she will . . .

HIS eyes narrow. Interesting as Her Majesty is--HE would find all of this stimulating, under different circumstances--The Interrogator is not prepared to forget or forgive that episode in the dungeons. Whatever she had done to induce such piercing anxiety in him by her very nearness, he had been infuriated at his own loss of control. The crisis past, that fury is cooling now.

Hardening. To the consistency of cold stone.

She will pay.

That resolve taken, HE turns onto his side, away from the door. Assuming that his every move could be watched, though he has seen no signs of surveillance electronics, The Interrogator allows his eyes to close and his thoughts to pursue other topics.

Claudia comes readily to mind . . .

MA--okay . . . (rubbing hands together) . . . back into a routine.
Just getting started, Clods . . . heh heh. ;-), - Wednesday, April 19, 2000 at 20:59:16 (PDT)

Yeah. It's been echoing a lot lately, but it is a nice place . . .

MA
Working on next post, but just had to put in something--I've missed it here!, - Wednesday, April 19, 2000 at 05:19:49 (PDT)

This is a very nice place !
Protector 1uno <spavle@nightmail.com>
Gospic, Li Croatia - Tuesday, April 18, 2000 at 00:54:01 (PDT)

"Day the Sixty-sixth, in the month of January – In which I decide to get very romantic."

Dinner was a more enjoyable meal than breakfast had been. I had more incentive to pay attention to what was going on and less reason to feel ill about it. Although it was a close-run thing. Young love is hard on the stomach. Lessons were to resume as soon as the meal was over.

I had nothing planned for the afternoon so I retreated to the far end of the hall and pretended to write a letter. Joya and Melisant were sitting by the fire working on embroidery while Adam sat at their feet reading poetry. He had a good, strong voice and I could hear the lines plainly.

Her appearance and her breeding,
Her lovely eyes, her complexion so clear,
And began to love her anon right,
And thought how he might take on
To have her to his lover.

With a blush, Melisant lowered her head over her sewing. Adam grinned and tugged on her sleeve, saying something in an undertone that I could not make out. Joya smiled tolerantly as she watched them. Finally Melisant looked up again and the reading continued.

I twirled the quill between my fingers as I watched. At this rate the courtship would last for a year and Adam was leaving tomorrow. Perhaps there was something I could do to move things along a little faster. I stood up. An outburst of laughter from the fireside covered the sound of my chair scraping along the floor. I slipped out of the hall without attracting attention.

The first thing to do was to find a good location; everything depended on that. The cook and his assistant barely looked up when I entered the kitchen. There was nothing suitable on the ground floor or the first floor so I headed for the cellars. At the bottom of four stone steps I stopped in front of an ancient oak door. I ran my hand down the dense grain before I pulled on the latch. The hinges creaked slightly but the door opened smoothly enough.

The room was chilly: bearable if a person was properly clothed but most uncomfortable if he was naked. I looked around. Half the room contained barrels of wine and other foodstuffs; surplus household items were piled up along the far wall. I spied a couple of mattresses and piled them in the middle of the room. A few thick blankets transformed it into a makeshift bed. No pillows but then it wasn't going to be used for sleeping. A few wax candles on the floor and a couple of flints to strike a light; a brazier would have been better but wasn't practical under the circumstances.

I set a flagon of wine beside the bed and returned to the kitchen for a pair of goblets and a basket of bread and cheese. The cooking staff gazed at me with bovine indifference as I collected the items. That lack of curiosity would be very helpful to my plans.

Back in the cellar I set the basket on the bed and gave the place a final scrutiny. I really didn't see how it could fail. A few hours should do the trick; it would all be over by suppertime. I carefully pushed the door almost (but not quite) shut behind me and returned to the kitchen dusting my hands.

When I got back to the hall, I found Melisant alone by the fire. Wonderful. She started slightly when she saw me but summoned up a tremulous smile; obviously she still found me unnerving. I assumed as modest a demeanour as I could (which probably wasn't much) and strolled over to the hearth to poke at the fire.

"Where is everyone?" I asked, keeping my head down so as not to fluster her.

"Lady Joya has gone to find some more thread. Sir Adam," She blushed as she said the name. "Sir Adam has gone outside for a moment."

Perfect. "That explains it." I pushed a log into place with the poker. "I saw her go down to the cellar and she asked me to send you to her. She needed your advice on the proper selection. I didn't understand what she was talking about."

"The cellar?" Melisant blinked, lifting one hand to her throat. "But I thought she went upstairs."

I turned and stared at her, not hiding the look in my eyes. "I said, she went to the cellar."

Melisant paled. "Oh, yes. Yes, I…I see. Of course I will go to her at once." She dropped her sewing on the floor and practically ran from the room. I waited for the space of a few heartbeats, then followed her.

She flew through the kitchen and down the steps. Taking care to make no sound, I tracked her to the cellar door. Pausing on the threshold, she gazed uncertainly into the gloom. "Lady Joya, where are you?" I waited until she took three tiny steps into the room, then slammed the door shut behind her and secured the latch with a crossbeam.

"Oh! Who's there? Let me out! Let me out!" She squealed in protest as her small fists drummed frantically on the door. I ran up the stairs to the kitchen again and stopped to listen. The door was thick enough that she was almost unintelligible from where I stood. Satisfied, I returned to the hall again.

Joya and Adam were there, wondering out loud where Melisant was. I came up behind them with an air of inquiry mild enough not to arouse suspicion. "Melisant? Oh, she went up to her room to find something that she left in her baggage. She wanted to show it to you, Lady Joya."

Joya put her hands on her hips and frowned. "I am surprised I did not hear her. How long ago was it?"

I furrowed my brow in an effort of remembrance. "Well, some time ago, really. I've been to the stable and back since then."

"I had better go upstairs and help her." Joya swept out of the hall without looking back. Adam settled himself on the carpet and reached for his book of poems.

I put my hand on his shoulder and he looked up. "By God's teeth! I must be losing my memory. Melisant didn't go upstairs at all. Now I come to think of it, she went down to the cellar."

"The cellar!" Adam stared. "But she hates places like that. She's afraid of spiders and mice."

"Well," I shrugged. "That's where she went. But I don't know what's keeping her. It's a fairly small room." I returned to the table where I had left my letter and prepared to sit down again.

Adam paid no attention to me. He frowned, then threw his book on one of the chairs and loped out of the hall for the kitchen. I followed close behind.

He was already down the stairs by the time I got there. Melisant was no longer beating on the door or calling out. Adam pulled up the crossbeam and yanked the door open. The hinges squealed in protest at such rough handling. From the darkness inside there came the sound of a muffled sob.

Adam rushed inside. "Melisant! Are you all right? Don't be scared. It's me."

With one jump I was down the stairs. With one shove I slammed the door shut and secured the crossbeam in place again. Then it was back upstairs, through the kitchen to the hall and back to the table again. To my relief, Joya had not yet returned.

I sat back in my chair and congratulated myself on the success of a well-designed plan. You can't leave anything to chance in this sort of thing; by the end of the day, our young lovers would be lovers in more than just name.

"Of the events of these days, I swear to describe them true and whole. On my oath, as I hope to become Lord Nottingham and High Sheriff again."

Magda
I hate doing two in a row; , - Sunday, April 16, 2000 at 10:32:58 (PDT)

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