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The strange civilian was struggling to speak. “I, har… I.”
Jung knew the signs instantly. “He’s had truth-tell, like for interrogations.”
The girl said hesitantly, “Yes?”
“Look: He’s got the blue lips of oxygen loss, a side effect; the stammer and the quivering lips of the main drug acting; and he may start talking a streak at any time if the drug heats up.
“He just sat down, I don’t know what to do.”
“The thing to do? Leave him be. Someone will come along.”
“I’m afraid—his lips are blue. What if he passes out and dies!”
“He won’t die. Anyway, his head is near the table, so not far to fall. He’s in a chair, so not any big fall. We have go, now, before we get caught.”
“Wha-a-t?”
Jung could tell her mind was boggled, so he tried to speak simply. “If we are caught people might think we did it—“
“—No!”
“Or they might think we heard things, that he told us secrets. Secrets we of the lower ranks are not supposed to know. So let’s go!” He grabbed her arm very hard and pulled the girl into standing up.
Just then the man gathered himself, was able to speak, “I, I, I’ve been poisoned!” Jung started to shake his head as the man continued, “Take my ring! Take it!” The man was struggling to take it off, getting agitated, so Jung helped him get it off. “Take it! To the king!… Say Hard-spear gave it to you… Hard… Spear…Warn him… Prince Ron is going to strike… during Michaelmass… The Kalvinasts will help him…”
Jung glanced at the girl. She looked boggled: like she wouldn’t remember the full message. But Jung knew how to take orders while under fire, he grasped the message. “The ring! In your pocket!” Jung pocketed the ring. He had just done so when another rich civilian appeared, wearing a mask of malevolence. A senior officer appeared behind him, an officer with little pig eyes.
Jung thought fast. “Sir! This man’s sick! He can’t talk!” The officer took in the scene, turned to the civilian and ordered calmly, “Go to the billiard room. Bring the medical officer.” To Jung. “Did he say anything?”
“Nothing, nothing but some coughs.”
To the girl: “Anything?”
“N-no.”
A beat. Eyes narrowed. Perhaps the officer was thinking that this was not the time to question or bribe the girl. Tomorrow would suffice. “You two are dismissed.”
The two went down narrow hall by where the scullery girls used the toilets. Jung bent down to look the girl in the eye. “What’s your name?
“Sue.”
“Sue, go in there, do your business, come back out. Don’t delay. We have to go, right now.” And they did.
Outside in the warm night air, Jung led them towards the gate shack. “If we climb the fence, (as soldiers do) they will know we are running. So we have to go out the front, all prim and proper. Don’t talk, and I won’t talk either; I’ll just keep looking at you, without gossiping with the guard.” And they did.
On the road, under two moons, they walked off some of their excitement, talking in cliches about what had happened. At last they stopped just off the road, at a bench that unknown soldiers on some work detail, years ago, had installed. Before them, unseen, was the steep drop away of the Nije river. Now they could talk of the future.
…
…
Sean Crawford
Alberta
October
2021
Blog Notes I: This follows Male and Female Prologues which follows September’s Death at the Formal Dinner. The story continues…
Blog Notes II: This morning, after posting, I discovered in my e-mail had this little gem:
…Hope you are doing good!
I’m Daniil and I work for an online digital marketing agency.
I came across your amazing Blog and got impressed with the persistent and efficient info and sensations on your site…
Because, believe it or not, I never get spam (I never click on free stuff) I suspect that the e-address list of Penelope Trunk has been hijacked or sold. I commented to Penelope, on her latest post, to ask about an alleged business partner e-mailing me, (four times!) a partner her blog has never mentioned. While there have been two comments under mine, she has not responded to me. (And no, I haven’t clicked on anything within the e-mails, nor replied)
