Immortal Confessions (2 page)

“You may have a share of anything we are able
to steal, and the favors of my daughter, for as long as you want
them. I’ve noticed you watching her.”

I faced him. “I could have that without
risking my life, and you know it.”

He stood his ground. “Winter is not over,
Bard, not in these lands. If you are smart, you’d make plans to be
in an encampment, a warm woman at your side, with enough food and
wine to last until the weather turns warmer in another month or
two.”

He had a point. I had been frozen more often
than I cared to remember, and I disliked the feeling. It was as if
I was trapped in my body, unable to talk or move, and yet I could
hear everything around me. Worst, I was completely helpless until I
thawed, another thing I detested.

“Say I agreed. I’d have to escape with you
that night, or face hanging.”

“We will not enter into the city with you. We
will camp on the outskirts, and wait for you to send word that the
treasure is indeed there.”

“What if it’s not?”

“Then wait until it is. We have enough food
to last—”

“And if it never arrives? This could all be a
lie.”

“Then what are you out?”

True. “I agree, then.” I looked past him back
to the fire. “Send your daughter to me.”

He nodded, and called for her. I think her
name was Maris, but I can’t remember for sure. She came over, and
he left us.

I led her into the forest, and pressed her
against the nearest tree, lifting her skirts. She was already
kissing me with abandon, which showed me more than anything else
that she was likely already skilled in intercourse. Yet I did have
something to show her that would likely feel new, given my size.
She gasped when I drove into her, and then clutched me to her,
moaning softly in pleasure. I grinned, kissing up her neck
hungrily, as I stroked her. Soon, she was crying out her orgasm
softly. My cry a moment later was not soft at all.

I withdrew from her with a last kiss, and
adjusted my clothes, as she adjusted hers.

“Will you stay with us tonight?” she
whispered quietly. “Please?”

I was gratified at her enthusiasm for me, but
I had things to do. “No, my dear. I need to start for the castle
tonight, because if another bard is hired, my part in the plan will
be taken by someone else. And I would have your favors for more
than a night.” That last wasn’t necessary, but I knew women well,
and they were much more easily dissuaded from clinging if they
thought that you didn’t want to leave them.

She embraced me, giving me a last kiss. “As
you will. But don’t think my favors are free.”

Did she expect payment now? “I never implied
they were, Maris.”

“I know that vile gypsy told you that if you
did as he asked, you were welcome to me,” she hissed, eyes blazing
angrily. “But he’s not my father. And even if he was, no one gives
my favors away but me.”

This was already tiresome. “What are your
terms?” I said coolly, removing her arms from around me.

“I want to go away with you. I’m not a gypsy;
I’m just a stolen child, a slave. But I can be useful to you—”

A human becoming my traveling companion was
impossible. However, I wasn’t often given the chance to indulge
myself fully with a woman who wouldn’t be missed. Agreeing to take
her with me now would ensure that when I parted from the gypsies
I’d have not only a heavier purse but also a full belly.

I kissed her hand. “Your eyes flash so
beautifully in your passion, my dear. I must endeavor to stir your
ardor often.” I trailed my lips up her throat. “I’m confident I can
find other ways to stimulate your enthusiasm, my sweet.”

She drew a long trembling breath. “Will you
take me?”

“Of course.” I’ll take all you have to give,
sweet child. “But I must go, now.” I turned, and began walking
away.

She called after me, “What is your name,
Bard?”

“Devlin,” I said, without looking back. “But
you can call me Bard, my dear. Everyone else does.”

* * * *

I walked all that night and the next. That
gypsy had been lying when he said it was only a day’s journey. But
what did I expect? He was probably illiterate, and had never
learned what a mile was, much less a Roman foot.

Finding my way wasn’t difficult, even though
most nights there was nothing to see but countryside and no real
road to follow. Money for candles and lanterns was something else I
did not have. Yet that wasn’t a problem, as I could see in the dark
as if it were day. Because of my upbringing, I knew astronomy well
enough to read the stars, to tell which direction I was going. This
was helpful, as soldiers were often on the roads, and it was better
to avoid them whenever possible.

My first sight of the structure revealed it
to be a large manor house, a type of converted castle complete with
an outer fortified wall, battlements, watchtowers and a drawbridge.
That was a relief to me. Any lord that could sustain a true castle
in these troubled times would likely also have the means to keep a
standing army at his disposal. Yet the sheer size of the structure
and its good condition meant that whomever ruled there was no fool.
I was going to have to be very careful.

I reached the castle gate a little after
sundown, afraid if I waited too long, they would not admit me. Most
places had a policy of not letting in strangers after
nightfall.

I was admitted to the presence of the Lord
Marshal, a kind of high chancellor, which was what my father had
been. The man was mousy and not regal at all. Sigh, so much had
gone downhill in two hundred years.

“We have heard of you, Bard. But we will not
hire you.”

“Have you a bard already, my good Master?”
This was a time to be obsequious.

“No. But this is a happy occasion. It is said
that your songs for the most part are tragedies. We are
celebrating, not preparing a feast for the despondent and
suicidal.”

I decided before I left to make a meal of him
and make it look like an accident. I was willing to take a lot of
insults in the name of survival, but never for my voice or choice
of music.

“I will sing whatever you wish, Lord. I know
of the usual marriage songs, and of the spring songs that are
customary for this time of year.”

The lord looked down his nose at me. “Take
yourself to the kitchen. The cook will have leftovers from
tonight’s meal for you. That is all you will get, until after your
performance the first night, when we determine that you are
performing to par.”

Now I was definitely going to kill him.
“Agreed, lord.”

I took my leave of him, smiling to a group of
maids who were gawking at me shyly. They giggled and ran off. I
rolled my eyes, letting my nose take me to the kitchen. If I were
in luck, there would be some blood there.

I was in luck. A pig had been killed, and the
blood saved for some kind of cooking garnish. It seemed odd to me
they would choose that as a garnish, but then I’d never paid much
attention to what went on in the kitchens. Centuries ago, maids had
brought me meals; my mother had never cooked one. She was too busy
living the court life, trying to curry favor with my father in a
desperate attempt to forget about his many lovers...

I’m getting diverted again. My apologies.

I swiped the pig’s blood, replacing it with a
little wine. Drinking it quickly, I breathed a sigh of relief,
feeling it renewing me: my hair growing out another inch, my
weighty feeling dissipating. My stubble remained unchanged. It was
as long as it ever got, this beard of mine that was almost a beard,
but not quite.

I wandered into the lower halls, looking for
a place to sleep. I found a serving wench there who liked my
attributes. I quoted her a few verses, and soon, she was leading me
to her room.

I always preferred a bed, if I could procure
one. But any place safe from the sun would be adequate.

* * * *

The next morning, the wench rose at dawn. I
looked at her groggily, prompting her to assure me I could stay
there while she was about her duties.

“You’re welcome to return here after you’re
singing tonight,” she added quickly.

Ahh, yes, I was still the rake I’d been when
I was mortal. “Thank you.”

She left, and I went back to sleep.

Soon enough, it was night and time for work.
I felt with irritation that I’d picked up some lice and fleas from
her straw tick bed. Who knew how long it had been since it had been
changed? Maybe not since last harvest, more than six months ago.
Ugh.

I grimaced, dressed in my outer clothes, and
grabbed my underclothes. At the nearest trough in the inner
courtyard, I washed them and myself. It was little better than
keeping the vermin, but I detested the feeling of anything crawling
on me. I would hang my long johns near the heat of the kitchen
fire, where they would dry soon enough. Luckily, it never bothered
me to be without undergarments.

I was just finishing washing up when I heard
a horse neigh. I looked up to see a man coming into the square. His
bearing said he was at least a Lord Magistrate. But by his
clothing, the quality of his horse, and his many men, I was
guessing he was probably a lord.

He was blond like me, his hair a little
longer, as was the current style, and his eyes a rich blue color
almost like the sky. He was not as handsome as I was, which
gratified me as much as it always did.

He shifted his eyes in my direction and I
looked away, because to be caught staring at him might be cause for
a whipping, especially if he saw the insolent look I was giving
him. He dismounted, and walked through the main gate, his guards
behind him.

“Good evening, sweet bard.”

I looked over to see my serving wench gazing
at me with desire. I returned her lustful glance, even as I
mentally rolled my eyes.

* * * *

Later that night, I discovered that the young
man was Marcus, betrothed-to-be of the young daughter, and that her
name was Annabelle. It was true the first time I saw her I was not
impressed. I’d bedded many women over the years, and gotten an
appreciation for the female form. Her hair was an ordinary brown
color, and her face was not graceful, or striking, as I preferred
my women to be. But her body was lush and full, despite she was
very young, only twenty. To be fair, in those times that was old to
be unmarried. That meant there must be some truth to the gypsy’s
story, as her dowry would be a large one, just to make sure the
pact was sealed completely. An unmarried daughter was a liability,
unless she went to a nunnery, and even then, there was no return on
investment, just the relief in knowing that another mouth would not
have to be fed, or a body clothed.

I sang that night as if I were ecstatic to be
there, standing in piles of discarded food, and spilled wine. I was
a success, at least by the cheers and clapping I received.
Reminding myself that it was just for a few nights, I graciously
accepted the accolades, thinking repeatedly that I’d be on my way
soon, away from this place and these disgusting people.

I could not make myself return to the serving
wench’s vermin ridden bed. Luck was with me, as I received an
invitation from one of the ladies in waiting to join her for the
night. She was comely enough, though fairly simple-minded. To add
to that, she believed that I would get her with child, despite my
attempts to persuade her otherwise, and she drank some herbs that I
knew to be sometimes toxic. I let her, hoping she didn’t die during
the night. I made love to her with the same false passion I’d sung
with downstairs, and before long, she was snoring peacefully beside
me.

I was tired enough to sleep, but made myself
stay awake. I had to think. I had a plan to prepare.

I’d seen no treasure. The dowry had been
mentioned once, but only remarked on in regards to size. That was
no help. I sighed, and relaxed near her, telling myself I could do
one more night. It was only one more night.

* * * *

As before, I passed the day in the lady’s
room. She had been pleased with my performance, and asked me to
stay while I was performing, with the express understanding that
after the festivities were done, I had to be on my way. I agreed
wholeheartedly. It was worth it to sleep in a comfortable bed
again, or at least, one that was not lice-ridden.

I spent the next night singing, and began to
learn more. Apparently, the bridegroom was early. More irritating,
the bulk of the treasure wasn’t even here, it was some five days on
the road behind him. To pay the dowry, the bride’s father had
called in debts owed to him, and some of his debtors had been slow
to pay. That news threw a cramp into my plans.

At least waiting wasn’t a problem, now I had
a place to stay. I’d been paid well that second night, enough to
buy some newer clothes, and a thin bar of soap. The problem was
always the same one in castles and settlements: blood.

I could’ve taken some from my lover, sure.
But I was ravenous and would need to drain her, especially after
all the demands she’d made of me nightly. For reasons I’ve
mentioned previously, I couldn’t do that, or settle for sipping
from several people, even if I healed them after. I had to hunt, to
bring down game. To do that, I had to get outside the wall at
night.

* * * *

Again, Fate was with me. I chanced upon the
Lord Magistrate out inspecting his men late the next evening, and
marked where he went when he made his rounds. In the course of his
inspection, he paused several moments near a back wall, as if
checking something. After he continued on, I went to investigate.
As I’d hoped, there was indeed a small back door in the castle
wall. The problem was a large iron padlock.

The loathsome man likely kept the only key
around his neck. Unfortunately for him, I’d long since adapted to
handling locked doors. As soon as no one was watching, I opened it
with a pick from my pocket and ventured outside. Within an hour,
I’d killed a few rabbits and drained them. Strengthened by their
blood, I then brought down a deer, and gorged myself.