Kingdom Come (19 page)

“My wife wants clean linen,” he ordered. “You will find fresh straw and boiled linen, clean and without dirt or vermin, or I shall tear this place apart. Is that clear?”

The girl looked at him with complete, utter fear and fled.  Kieran went back into the room and set the food on the table. He went to Rory, still lying on the floor, and put his great hand on her head.

“I shall find clean linen for you, I swear it,” he was on his knees, kissing her cheek. “I know you are exhausted.  I have asked for a bath to be brought to our room. Let us eat something now; it will make you feel better.”

She lay there and cried, completely spent and ill.  “I don’t want to eat,” she sobbed.

He gently pulled her into his arms. “Aye, you do,” he murmured, kissing her head and holding her close. “Please, sweetheart. Eat something and feel better.”

“No!” she squeaked.

He picked her up and carried her over to the table. She was still damp and trembling with chill.  He set her down in the only chair in the room and poured her a cup of wine.

“Drink,” he commanded softly. “It will make you feel better.”

She was sobbing pitifully. “I don’t want to.”

She was actually rather comical with her dramatic misery but he fought of the grin that threatened, knowing it would not be well met.  He kissed her forehead again and went over to the trunks piled against the wall.

“Drink some wine, sweetheart,” he urged, pulling a large satchel off the stack of three trunks and putting it aside. “I shall find you dry clothing.”

She shook her head, unhappy, eyeing him as he opened the top trunk and began rummaging around. He eventually came across a feather-soft lamb’s wool sleeping shift that he had purchased for her back in Tyre.  As he shook it out, Rory calmed down sufficiently to where she took a sip of the tart and sweet wine. He brought the shift over to her.

“Here,” he held it out. “You must change out of those wet clothes.”

She shook her head. “I want to take a bath before I change,” she said, sniffling and wiping her nose. “I’ve got sand all over me and the salt water is drying out my skin. Where are those skin oils we bought in Tyre?”

He set the shift aside, turning back to the trunks. “They are in here, somewhere.”

“Can you find them, please?”

“I am looking.”

“And you may as well get out all of the other toiletries we bought. I forget what I have. I didn’t even touch it on the boat.”

“I will.”

“And the mirror we bought. Please get that, too.”

He nodded wearily, as a man usually does with a bossy wife, but the truth was that in spite of everything, he was happier than he had ever been in his life. As long as Rory was with him, nothing else mattered. He could move mountains.

“Did you find them?” she asked a couple of seconds later.

He was still rummaging around, nodding impatiently. “I am looking,” he assured her with irritation. “Give me a moment, if you would.”

Rory turned back to the wine as Kieran finally came across the phials of oils and salts that they had purchased.  There were three bars of soap in leather pouches that he pulled forth along with an earthenware jug that contained what Rory had understood to be shampoo.  There were also four phials of oils in different fragrances; jasmine, sandalwood, myrrh and lily along with mineral salts that she was told came all the way from the salt sea in Judah, which she assumed to mean the Dead Sea.  Additionally, there were all sorts of other things that he pulled out, mysterious cosmetics he had purchased for her because she liked the smell or color, including a very precious mirror made from Venetian glass.  It was little but the reflection was true.  In truth, he’d invested a small fortune in the items but it was a small price to pay to keep Rory happy. He enjoyed it.

He set everything on the table so she could look through her assortment.  Then he pulled the cloth off the tray to inspect what manner of food had been provided, hoping the food would entice her and perk up her mood. There was a large hunk of beef, well cooked and juicy, as well as a half a loaf of brown bread and boiled carrots.  There was also some butter and a big knife.   He pulled a piece of beef off the bone and tasted it; it was quite good.  He pulled another piece off, making sure it was free of gristle, before extending it to Rory.

She waved him off. “God, no,” she turned away. “I don’t want any.”

He sighed heavily. “Lib, you hardly ate on the boat. You have lost enough weight that your bones are sticking through. I know you are unused to the food of this time, but I assure you, this beef is well cooked and delicious. I believe you will like it and you need to eat something. I do not want to see you waste away from starvation.”

She looked at him, realizing he was probably right.  She hadn’t eaten much since the day they had arrived over three weeks ago. But she was absolutely terrified to touch food that hadn’t known any regulations or inspection process. She looked at the meat and how well it was cooked, figuring that the cooking process would have killed any worms or bacteria that might have existed.  And the wine was okay; the alcohol would kill any germs.  Taking a deep breath, she took the beef from his fingers and forced it into her mouth, chewing slowly.

She quickly realized it was good meat and quite delicious.  Kieran saw that she ate it quickly so he cut more off the bone and gave it to her. The more he would cut, the more she would eat.  She went after the carrots and ate all of them; they were boiled in brine and very salty, but good nonetheless and she was starving.  When the carrots were gone, she went back to the beef.  Kieran stood back and let her eat everything she had a mind to.  He was just glad to see that her appetite had returned. When she moved for the bread, however, she slowed down considerably and picked off a piece, inspecting it. He knew just by her expression that she didn’t want to eat it.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She looked at him guiltily. “Well,” she began reluctantly, setting the bread down. “It’s brown bread. It’s full of grit and dirt, and God knows what else.”

“Do you want me to find suitable bread?”

She slumped in the chair, refusing to look at him. “No,” she said. “I’ve already been too much of a pain. You haven’t even eaten; you need to sit down and finish this up.”

He suddenly quit the room. Rory jumped up and ran to the open door, watching him stalk down the hall and disappear down the stairs. Calls to him went unanswered. Uncertain where he was going but unwilling to follow, she went back into the room and shut the door. Going back to the table, she slowly sat, wondering what she had said to make him run from the room.  She felt ill again, too; the food was making her sleepy and upsetting her stomach at the same time.  So she sat, uncomfortable and exhausted, until Kieran appeared a short time later.

He was carrying another tray in his big hands. Behind him, two men were carrying a massive copper pot and following the pot were a few serving women with crude wooden buckets of steaming water.  The men set the pot down at Kieran’s direction and the women began to pour the water in. Kieran went to the table and sat the tray down in front of Rory.

“There you are, m’lady,” he smiled, his gem-clear brown eyes glimmering at her. “I scavenged the kitchens for everything they had. When their supplies were not sufficient, I went next door to the baker and scavenged his goods as well.”

Rory gazed up at him, smiling gratefully. The man was trying so hard to take good care of her; she reached up, patting his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You are so sweet. I love you.”

He winked at her, kissing her hand and turning to face those who were in their room, filling up the tub. There were many possessions and he didn’t want an unscrupulous servant to abscond with something when his back was turned.

As Kieran watched the servants like a hawk, Rory investigated the contents of the tray; there were two golden buns that, when pulled apart, revealed creamy white bread inside. It wasn’t like modern white bread; it was denser and heavier. There was also another loaf of bread that was white but for bits of currants in it.  She picked a piece of it off and popped it in her mouth; it was sweet with what she assumed to be honey.

But there was more. A small cup covered with a cloth contained something green and briny; upon further inspection, she realized it was cucumber and quite delicious.  There were also pickled lemons, which were crazy-sour, and some kind of pancake-like thing.  She could see the oats in it and smelled what she thought was cinnamon.  After a little taste of everything, she ate most of the tray. Even the lemons that made her glands hurt and her eyes water.

By the time the tub was full, Rory was wallowing in gluttonous misery.   Kieran shut the door when the last servant left, turning to see his wife ill with too much food.  He put his hands on his slender hips, lifting an eyebrow at her.

“You refuse to eat for weeks,” he pointed out. “Then when you do it, you stuff yourself ill.”

She looked at him, made a face, and groaned. “I was so hungry,” she said. “God, I’m so full now I’m going to explode.”

He grunted, grinning, as he went to the table.  There wasn’t much left. “May I have your scraps, madam?”

“Knock yourself out.”

“I am not sure why I would want to.”

“I meant go ahead.”

As Rory rose from the chair to prepare for her bath, he sat down and proceeded to devour what was left on the table.  There was still plenty of food left for him, mostly the meat and brown bread, and he finished it off.  Rory, meanwhile, was peeling the damp surcoat off her body and laid it across the bed frame to dry.  The shift was next and as Kieran chewed on the bread, he noticed that she was still wearing her bra and panties.  She clung to the twenty-first century clothing, unwilling to relinquish everything she knew and was comfortable with.  He swallowed the bread in his mouth.

“Lib,” he began gently, casually. “We purchased suitable undergarments for you in Tyre. Is there a reason why you do not wear them but continue wearing your old undergarments?”

She looked down at her white bra and boy-short panties that looked fantastic on her round buttocks.  “I’m just more comfortable with these,” she insisted, reaching around to unhook the bra. “I need to wash them before we go. They’re so disgusting right now that I can’t even begin to describe it.”

He wasn’t really sure what she meant but he let it go. It wasn’t his business, anyway; besides, he loved to watch her half-naked body parade around in the peculiar undergarments.  She looked magnificent. When she unhooked the bra and let her beautiful breasts go free, he could feel himself growing hard. When she slipped the strange white panties off and climbed into the tub, he felt himself growing hot all over.  The woman had that effect on him.

But he knew any advance would not be well met so he continued to sit and drink the tart, sweet wine, his lust building as more alcohol filled his veins. He watched Rory bathe, soaping her luscious body with the white soap that smelled of jasmine, filling the air of the small room with its sweet fragrance.  She washed her hair at least 3 times, rinsing it over and over in the water.

“Baby?” she called to him as she was washing her feet.

He was extremely relaxed, half-lidded, watching her bathe. “Aye?”

“Do you have a razor?”

He nodded, rising to weary feet and digging through his enormous saddle bags. He eventually pulled forth a leather sheath, about a foot long. Inside the sheath was a steel razor he used for shaving his face. He went over to her, handing her the butt-end of the razor.