Chapter 7

 

“So, what happened after that?” I asked Martha as we sat on her couch. 

“Well, Cythyne helped me find my brother and my sister, who were pretty shocked to meet a centaur, and told us, firmly but gently, not to come back to those enchanted woods.  And we didn’t.  I saw her again years later, and she recognized me.  I don’t think centaurs ever forget anything.  Then one day, she dropped Harper on my doorstep, and now you.” 

“Wow,” I said.  “So, she killed the little goat-man.” 

“He was a satyr,” Martha said.  “I didn’t know that until I got older.  They run around naked, their little penis always hard, trying to rape anything they see.  Even animals.”  She shuddered. 

“Gross,” I said, trying not to laugh at the fact that she’d said penis. 

“I never found out how exactly she came to be in those woods that day, but she must have heard me scream.  I’ve always been grateful to her.” 

I said, “Which is why you took Harper in.  Why you’ve taken me in now.”

Martha looked at me.  “That’s part of it.  But taking Harper in was the right thing to do. And you too.  I can tell.  You know… Centaurs can sense things in people that no one else can.  I don’t know how, but she must have sensed something in you, Jack, for her to bring you to me.  For her to help you like she did.  I think I sense it, too.” 

I smiled.  Martha stared at me, her blue eyes never looking from mine.  She was a lot older than me, maybe even as old as my parents, but I couldn’t help thinking about how beautiful she was and how soft the skin on her shoulders and bulging cleavage looked. 

“Well,” she said, looking away.  “I guess I better turn in for the night.  We have a big day tomorrow.  I’m going to feed you three meals but make you earn them in my garden if that’s alright with you.  A strapping young man like you should be able to get a lot of work done around here while we wait for Harper to return.” 

“Okay,” I said.  “Sounds good.” 

Martha brought out a pillow and a blanket and spread them on the couch for me, then blew out the small lamps that had been providing the light in the room.  She held the last one to take with her behind her the curtain that led to her room.

“Goodnight, Jack,” she said. 

“Goodnight, Martha.” 

She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.  I watched her as she disappeared behind the curtain, the light escaping underneath it.  Then she must have blown it out, and I was plunged into complete darkness. 

I laid down on the couch and covered up with the blanket.  I hoped my parents weren’t freaking out.  I hoped Charlie had found the stairs again.  Or did I?  What if Charlie, my parents, and the police all filed down one at a time and all fell into this world?  What if they got eaten by ogres? 

I had to hurry and find my brother and get back.  But now I had to kill a day waiting on Harper.  I thought about Martha.  I could think of worse ways to spend a day.   

#

I woke to the smell of scrambled eggs the next morning.  I sat up on my couch and quickly put my pants and shirt on.  I’d made myself comfortable the night before and didn’t want Martha to see me half-naked.  

When I was done, I looked over, and she turned her head away quickly. 

“Morning,” I said.  I stretched and made my way over to the table.  She had already cooked eggs and sausage links and had biscuits.  I could get used to this. 

“Good morning,” she said. “I was just about to wake you.  Breakfast is ready.” 

She wiped her hands on her apron and untied it, and sat down.  She was wearing her tattered work dress from the day before, or one just like it, and had her hair pulled back tightly, ready for a long day of chores. 

“This looks delicious,” I said. 

“I hope you like it,” she said.  “You’re going to need your energy today.” 

The breakfast was one of the best I ever had, and stealing glances at Martha only improved it. 

After we were done, she cleared the dishes as I let my food settle.  I had eaten a lot.  I was still hungry from the last couple of days.  After that, she led me outside and showed me which chores she wanted me to do, carrying water from her well, using a wheelbarrow to move some dirt to her garden, and then loading feed sacks into her small barn. 

By noon I was drenched in sweat, and my shirt was soaked through.  I pulled it off, dunked it into her well, and used it to wipe myself off.  I dunked it again, wrung it out, and then hung it on the line behind her house.  It would probably stink later, but I couldn’t do much about it.  I hadn’t exactly packed for a long vacation before heading down those stairs. 

I looked over at Martha, and she smiled at me.  She was kneeling, working in her garden, and now she stood and brushed the dirt from her dress.  “Hungry?” she called.  I was famished.

I nodded furiously, like a little kid, and she laughed and disappeared inside.  I got back to my work, and it wasn’t long before she came back outside.  When she did, she was holding a tray with sandwiches and a pitcher of tea on it and a woolen shirt.  She carefully carried the things over to the picnic table in the yard, and we sat down.  Martha poured me a glass of tea and told me to help myself to the sandwiches.  Which I did. 

“Here,” she said, holding out the shirt.  It was gray and looked homemade, but it was clean and sturdy looking.  “This was my Edwards.  Put it on till yours dry’s.”  She looked me up and down from my bare stomach to my sweaty chest.  I guess she wasn’t a fan of me being shirtless.   Or maybe she just didn’t want me to get sunburned. I put on the shirt and dove into the sandwiches.

They were delicious, some kind of chicken salad or something.  And she had cut the crusts off, which I appreciated since I hated the crusts. 

“So Harper should be back tomorrow?” I asked probably for the millionth time. 

Martha smiled.  “Yes.  She’d only left yesterday morning, and you arrived in the afternoon.  She’ll sell our goods today and make the trip home tomorrow.  She’ll be back around lunchtime.  I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.” 

I didn’t know about that.  I hoped she would be.  I hoped she could tell me where my brother was, where everyone was, and how to get home.  But I worried that if she lived here, she might not know any of those things. 

Martha could see the tension in my expression and reached out and took my hand in hers.  Her touch was light and soft, and I looked up and saw her smiling at me. 

“She will be happy to see you, Jack.  I know it.  And she will answer all your questions.” 

I smiled back and squeezed her fingers.  Neither one of us let go.  I didn’t want to let go of her hand.  I wanted to keep holding it. 

Martha kept her eyes on me and didn’t let go.  Where was this going?  She was a beautiful older woman. 

It didn’t matter since our little moment was interrupted.  Martha looked over my shoulder, and her mouth tightened into a thin line.  “Oh no.  Not these wankers again.”  She let go of my hand and stood quickly.  The warmth of her skin on mine lingered, and I wanted to feel her touch again.  “Come on, Jack.  Let’s go inside.  They’ll destroy a few things and then leave.” 

Wait… What?  Destroy a few things and leave. 

I stood and looked in the direction that Martha was looking.  Three men were about a hundred yards away, walking down the small dirt road towards us and Martha’s house.  

“Who are these guys?” I asked her.  She looked more pissed off at their presence than scared of them.

“Bandits,” she snarled.  “But barely.  More just like bullies.  They only pick on me because I’m a single woman with no weapon.  If I had one, I’d bash their skulls in.” 

I believed it, too, from the look on her face. 

“What do they want?” I asked.  They were getting closer now. 

“They’ll steal some vegetables and some chickens or a goat.  Then smash some things and leave. They want to act like bad men, but they’re just bad boys.”  She looked furious.  “Come on, Jack.  Let’s just go inside.  They’ll do what they’ll do and then leave.”  She took my hand, and I was happy to feel her smooth palm in mine and pulled me toward the house. 

“Wait,” I said, planting my feet.  “We can’t let them damage your property.” 

She shook her head.  “It’s fine, Jack.  There are three of them.  And they’ve…” She trailed off and looked at the men, who were almost to the little house now. 

“They’ve what?” I said.  “They’ve hurt you before?” 

Martha looked at the men angrily, then back at me.  “They’ve just knocked me down before.  Nothing more.  Harper, too.  We just let them do their damage and go on with it.  It’s better than getting our heads bashed in.” 

These pricks.  I didn’t care what kind of world this was, nobody should bully anybody, much less a pair of nice women like Martha and Harper. 

“Come on, Jack,” Martha said, desperation in her voice now.  “They’ll only do worse if we make trouble, and I don’t need that.” 

She was right.  I didn’t want to cause her trouble. But, if going inside was what she wanted, then that’s what we needed to do. This was Martha’s home, and I needed to do as she wished.

“Okay,” I said and squeezed her hand, the one I was still holding.  “If that’s what you want.” 

“Oiy!” one of the men yelled.  They were at the little fence now.  “Got yourself a yard boy, misses.” 

They all laughed.  “Better scurry off inside now, my lady,” one of the other men said.  “Before we take a goat… and what’s between your legs this time.”  They all laughed again. 

Martha turned red and pulled me toward the house. 

“It’s about time we took you anyway,” one of them said.  “Since you’re giving it all to the yard boy.”  Martha’s shoulders slumped. 

“I’m surprised he wants an old bag like her,” one of the called.  “Probably likes the younger one better.  Where’s she at?  Maybe we’ll take her too and make the yard boy watch how it’s done.” 

Martha tugged my hand harder now, but before I could stop myself, I said, “You won’t be taking anything today.” 

Martha whispered, “Oh no, Jack.”  I pulled my hand from hers. 

“What’d you say, boy,” one of the men demanded. 

I was angry.  If I was being honest with myself, that part of me that had been angry every day since my brother disappeared had taken over.  And I blamed this world.  This crazy world where ogres eat people and centaurs are magical and mysterious, and a beautiful, kind woman takes you in only to have three assholes threaten to rape her.  That dark place had always been in me, though, and it had been picked at by bullies at school and asshole jocks that thought they were better than everyone. So I went to that place sometimes and got angry and fought those guys, and I’d done it under the pretense of protecting Charlie, and I’d do it now under the pretense of protecting Martha.  But deep down… I liked living in that place.  I liked inflicting pain and even enjoyed being in pain. I liked thinking I deserved it as punishment for not saving my brother, which was insane since I had been thirteen and hadn’t been there, and sometimes I thought I liked it as punishment for not being as good as my brother was. 

What can I say?  I had issues.  And now I was going to show those issues to these assholes.

I turned toward them.  They were young men, a few years older than me, and dirty and scabby with thin patchy beards and dirt on their faces.  One of them was a few inches taller than me, which made him several inches over six feet, and he had thick biceps, a wide barrel chest, and a jaw that looked as square as a stone.  He looked like he could be playing defensive linemen for some college football team.

The other two were shorter than me, which put them under six feet, and as thin as they were, they weighed about fifty pounds less than me.  All three of them had on thick leather vest-looking things, I think people in the olden days called them tunics, and each had a rusty dagger shoved into a leather belt.  Big Boy held a rusty mace with knobs all around it.  If he hit me with that, there wasn’t going to be a fight… just Martha washing my brains off her little stone path that led up to her house. 

I would have to avoid that at all costs. 

They all looked at me menacingly and glared back.  And I saw it… That same cocky look those jocks always had when they talked shit, but in the cracks, there was doubt because they weren’t used to people standing up to them. 

“I said you weren’t taking anything today, but what I meant was… come through that gate and see what happens.” 

At this point, I should also mention that when your older brother goes missing, your mom gets so worried that she won’t let you out of her sight, but she also knows she can’t protect you every second of every day, so she drives you to martial arts lessons twice a week, every week, for the next five years.  Or mine did, at least.  And… that when you’re a messed up kid with enough size and athleticism to be good on a sports field but aren’t allowed to play sports because you might get hurt and only have one friend, you spend a lot of time practicing those martial arts.

The three guys looked at each other.  Then they laughed.  But it was just a trick to try and intimidate me.  It didn’t work.  I let them laugh.  

When they stopped, the one on Big Boy’s left said, “Listen, little yard boy.  Go inside with the misses, and you won’t get hurt.” 

The shorter one on Big Boy’s right said, “Yeah.  Cause if you don’t, we’re going to hurt yous, and then hurt her for our trouble.” 

“Jack,” Martha said quietly behind me. 

These two were the talkers, but Big Boy was the muscle.  I wanted him to come through the gate first… and alone. 

“You guys aren’t gonna do shit,” I said.  I hoped that worked.  I hoped they thought I was just a little dog yapping and not worth their trouble.  If not, and they all came at me at once, I’d be beaten to a pulp or brained with that big mace. 

It worked, though.  “Oh he’s a talker, this one,” Righty said. 

“I’m tired of listening to him,” Lefty said.  “Get rid of him, Doane.” 

Doane was Big Boy apparently because Big Boy smiled like he was about to get to eat a piece of chocolate cake, and nothing was going to stop him.  Then he opened Martha’s little gate to come to get me. 

I already knew what I was going to do, and it wouldn’t be nice or fair and would have been illegal in any martial arts competition on any level and would have gotten me banned for life.  But this wasn't a tournament with a referee… and the guy had a fucking mace. So I wasn’t taking any chances. 

Doane stepped through the gate, and I held up my hands like I was calming him down.  “Easy big, fella,” I said.  “I was just joking.”  I hadn’t been joking, but I wanted to seem nervous. 

He cocked back his big arm, holding that big mace, and he swung it.  Super slowly.  It was almost comical how slow he was.  Guess that’s why he wasn’t playing college football anywhere, that and because they most likely didn’t have football here, or college. 

I ducked under the mace easily and, as his momentum carried him around, stepped up and to the side of him.  Sorry, Big Boy.  But also not sorry either. 

I kicked his knee as hard as I could to the right.  Knees do not bend to the side, so if you get kicked in the side of the knee, it usually fucks up some shit.  It did for Big Boy. 

I felt his knee buckle and saw his eyes bulge, and the next thing anyone knew, he was on the ground screaming and writhing in pain. 

Skinny One and Skinny Two didn’t know how to react to seeing their monster go down so easily.  I assumed they would run away. 

But they didn’t.  Skinny One got a pissed-off look on his face and pulled his rusty dagger.  He came through the gate with it out in front of him, and I danced back on the balls of my feet. 

“Watch out, Jack,” Martha called from behind me like I wasn’t already.  I kicked Skinny One’s hand, and the dagger went flying.  I’ll give Skinny Two credit, he didn’t run either.  He was right behind Skinny one with his blade.  I tried to kick it too, but he was on to me and moved back, then thrust quickly, but luckily he missed.  The thing was so old and rusty that I thought if he did get me with it, I was more likely to die from tetanus than the wound. 

Skinny One threw a punch, and because I was focused on Skinny Two, he landed it.  He connected with the side of my cheek, and I stumbled.  Skinny Two ran in, but the punch had only knocked me off balance, not stunned me, and I grabbed his knife arm in an arm bar.  I wrenched up, and he screamed and lost control of his fingers, and the knife hit the ground. 

He looked into my face, and for a second, he looked terrified, like I might break his arm off at the elbow and beat him to death with it.  Good.  Be scared motherfucker.  Threaten to rape two women and then act scared.  I didn’t think so.  I wanted to take this far enough that these guys didn’t come back.  And I wanted to hurt them for threatening Martha and Harper.  I didn’t want to lose my advantage, so I stayed in that dark place.  I wrenched his arm harder, then threw several fists to his face, his nose bursting into a bloody pulp under my knuckles. 

Skinny Two sagged in my grip, and I pushed him away.  Skinny One was looking at what I’d done to his friend in shock.  He threw his hands up over his head as I came toward him, the universal sign for I give up.  I didn’t care.  I kicked his feet out from under him and heard his head hit the ground with a smack, then raised my foot to stomp down on his face. 

“JACK!” I heard Martha’s voice in my ear, and felt her arms around my shoulders.  “Stop it!  Stop it!” she cried. 

She pulled at me with all of her strength. Finally, it brought me out of it.  I was breathing heavily and could feel my teeth grinding. 

“Stop,” she said.  “Stop now.”  Her voice got quieter with every word, her volume fading along with my anger. “They’ve had enough.  They’ve had enough.” 

I knew she was right. 

Big Boy wasn’t screaming in pain anymore, just moaning and rolling around, clutching his knee.  Skinny Two was out, his face a bloody mess, and Skinny One was sitting up, rubbing the back of his head, and staring at us. 

Martha grabbed my shoulders and spun me around, and I looked into her soft blue eyes.  There was calm in them, and they took away the last of my adrenaline. 

“I’m sorry,” I said.  “I’m sorry, Martha.” 

She hugged me.  “It’s okay. It’s okay.”  Her arms were tight around me, and her body pressed into mine.  The guilt of going too far started to set in.

I gently released her, picked up the mace and the two knives, and pulled Big Boy’s knife from his belt. 

“Don’t take those,” Martha said with a sympathetic look.  “They’ll not be able to skin a rabbit or a squirrel without those.  And then they’ll have to steal or starve.” 

She looked at me gently but reproachfully.  I shook my head, then dropped the knives on the ground, but kept the mace.  Big Boy would never walk without a limp again unless he had surgery to repair the torn ligaments in his knee, and I didn’t think they even had hospitals here, much less orthoscopic surgeons, but I was keeping his mace, limp or not.  I took it to Martha’s barn and hid it behind some hay she used to feed her goats. 

When I came back, Martha had gotten a bucket of water and was wiping Skinny Two’s bloody nose with a wet towel.  Skinny One was wrapping Big Boy’s knee at Martha’s direction.  I went to the well, got a bucket of water for myself, and poured it on my head, letting the water run down and wash the sweat away. 

Martha, in her generosity, gave the three bandits a pot of stew, some ointment to put on their wounds, and even let them take one of her chickens.  We watched as the three limped way, Big Boy with an arm around each of his friends’ shoulders for support. 

Better luck next time, assholes, I thought. 

After the fight and the bandaging up of everyone, the afternoon had slipped away from us, and the sun was starting to get low. 

Martha turned and headed back into the house.  I wasn’t sure how she was feeling toward me.  She hadn’t said much while she was bandaging them up.  I followed her in but half expected her to tell me to get out.

She went to the kitchen and, with her back to me, started to fix supper. 

“Martha, I’m sorry,” I said. 

“I know,” she said after a moment without looking up at me.  She went back to preparing our meal. 

We ate quietly as the sun set, and soon the windows were filled with black, and the cabin was bathed in the soft yellow glove of the oil lamps Martha had lit for us. 

I followed her to the couch after we ate and sat down.  Martha reached for her book and began to read, leaving me with just my thoughts.  I was sorry for what happened.  “I just couldn’t watch them tear up your things or listen to them threaten you like that,” I said after a while. 

Martha gently closed her book and stared into the space in front of her.  Then she slid over on the couch and rested her head on my shoulder.  Her hair smelled of flowers despite spending the day outside working. 

“I know,” she said, just like she had said earlier.  “I know, Jack.  Which is what makes you special.” 

I didn’t know about that.  I shook my head.

“You’re a protector, Jack.  I can see it in you.  You can’t stand for a wrong to be done.  My Edward was that way.” 

I really wasn’t sure about that. 

Martha leaned up and looked into my eyes.  Her pale blue eyes looked soft, and I could see they were moist. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,” I said. 

“You haven’t,” she said.  “I’m proud of you, Jack.”   Then she gently touched her soft lips to mine.