A Box, a Woman and Time Ch. 02
Keywords: Woman, 02, A, Time, and, a, Box,, Ch.,
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The next three weeks were hell.
Scarcely a moment passed when you did not think about Anne and what you so briefly had, then lost.
When your wife returned home you had quickly hidden the box and run upstairs, locking yourself in the bathroom. You knew you couldn't possibly face her until you had time to come to grips with what had happened. Had it been real or imagination?
You lifted your hands to your nose. Her scent was still on them.
It had been real.
A long hot shower erased her scent but not her memory.
One night you began researching – did Anne Morella Leighton truly exist? After an hour online you managed to find a couple of references to her and to Dr. James. There was a picture of him, but he looked nothing like you. There was a photograph of her too, taken in 1971. She was smiling and happy, standing beside her husband as they donated a large check to the hospital. Where would she be now? Possibly still living but an elderly woman. What possible good would it do to contact her, especially given that Dr. James looked nothing like you?
Would she remember him or you?
Your wife informed you of her plans to be out of the house the next Sunday and you knew you would once more be home alone.
You began to think about the box. Would it work again? Where would it send you? Would you go back to Anne or somewhere new?
Should you go?
The last question was difficult. You spent the week turning it over in your mind but there was never any real doubt. Your curiosity was too overwhelming to resist.
You retrieve the box from the coat closet and set it on the kitchen table. You nervously rub your hands together and realize that your palms are sweating. Knowing what the box can do has made you slightly fearful of it but you cannot resist using it again, still hoping that you will be returned to Anne.
"Open Sesame."
The box opens.
Sitting as you are you cannot see within it but the top is clearly open. You stand up and lean over to peer within.
There is something...
You are in a large room. The acrid smell of wood smoke assails your nostrils and your eyes immediately begin to burn. Dim sunlight filters through the small, high windows and some light flickers from the huge fireplace to your right but it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light and smoke. The tall, stone walls are covered in tapestries.
You are in a castle.
The room has two long tables and at the end of one of them is a loud group of quarrelsome dirty men: very large quarrelsome dirty men. You decide to exit quietly from the room before they notice you and with that thought in mind begin edging towards the entrance opposite the great fireplace.
Halfway there a woman enters the room through the doorway you have chosen and walks towards you. Her swaying hips and pretty face look familiar and when she is close enough that you can see her clearly through the smoke you realize who she is.
"Betty!"
"Master, I have been searching for you. Please come with me."
She is wearing a long blue velvet gown, cut low enough in the front to display her ample charms, and they are far more ample than you realized when you saw her in a nurse's uniform. Her hair is unbound except for a thick braid circling the back of her head and the brown tresses hanging through it reach almost completely down her back. When the two of you exit the smoky hall and you are able to see more clearly you realize that she is prettier even than she was before; the blue of the gown accents her eyes.
You take her hands in yours, feeling grounded by the familiar sight of her face and touch of her warm hands.
"Betty, where are we?"
She cocks her head, gazing at you with the same earnest expression you remember from before.
"In the hallway. Master, why do you call me Betty? Have I not lived within your household and served you long enough for you to honor me with the remembrance my given name? Was it not just this morning that you called me Betta as you broke your night's fast?"
"Indeed Betta," you reply. "You have served me long and well. I thought that given our long association I would call you by a nickname, as a sign of my affection and esteem for you."
"Nick name?" She furrows her lovely brow. "I do not understand what you mean by nick name. It is not meant as an insult, then?"
"No."
"Do you truly have affection for me?" Her eyes gaze steadily into your and her soft lips part slightly as she leans closer towards you. "Am I to be... will you let me... can I begin to serve you in any other way?" She blushes. "It has long been my hope to serve you as one of your Maidens of the Chamber."
You begin to wonder what type of situation you have walked into. "Did she say one of my Maidens of the Chamber? "
This raises some interesting thoughts. The box appears to have sent you much further into the past than 1964 and it appears that you have once again stepped into someone else's life – the life of the Master of this castle, whoever he is. She did say one of didn't she? Intriguing. What does the master of a castle do anyway?
"Are we currently at war?"
"No, Master."
"Having any kind of altercation with our neighbors?"
"No, Master."
"Foreseeing any invasions on the near horizon?"
"No, Master."
"Have I by chance any younger brothers or cousins who are not already settled on their own land?"
"No, Master."
"Is there a tournament on the schedule?"
"No, Master, naught but the harvest which is to begin soon."
You are relieved. Swords and armor sound romantic in books but you imagine that the Surgeon General would declare them to be very dangerous to your health. And life. Your curiosity is getting the better of you.
"How many maidens of the chamber have I?"
"At this moment, Master?"
"Yes, currently."
"Hmmm, give me a moment, Sir." She begins to count on her fingers. "Rowena, Cynethryth, Angelline, Edwynne, Nerienda, Catharina, Ysabel, Mildrede and Beornwynne."
"Nine!"
"Those are your nightly maiden's, Master. Then there are your fortnightly maidens: Sibilla, Splendora..."
"Splendora? I have a Maiden named Splendora?"
"... Petronella, Rose, Anora, Paulina, Wulueua, Catin, Tiecia, Leticia, Aunphelice, Muriel, Linniue, Melodia, Geva, Isolda, Hyssmaye, Immine, Joan, Roana, Beatrix, Elizabeth, Reyna, Dayluue, Letselina, Estrild, Theda, Juete, Amiable..."
"Is she nice?"
"... Aicusa and Seild." Betta finishes counting on her fingers. "Forty, Master. No, wait. I forgot to count the triplets, Emelin, Emelot and Emeluna so you have forty-three Maidens of the Chamber." She sighs. "At this moment."
""And they all are between the ages of eighteen and twenty and spend their days making beautiful underwear,"" you mutter to yourself. ""It's a wonder I can walk.""
Betta watches you patiently. She is the calmest woman you have ever known. Patient, serious and earnest almost to a fault but ... those rounded globes are distracting you. They are so perfectly round and you can so easily imagine slipping your fingers between them, then pulling down the velvet fabric to expose the brown (they must be brown like her hair) nipples and running your tongue over them before you take them into your mouth and...
"Master, it is time to go now," she says, breaking your pleasant reverie. "I have your sword ready."
Whoa. Did she say Sword? Uh oh.
"Betta, you assured me that all was well and that I would not be needing any swords in the near future!"
"But Master! What of the Witch?"
Your dumbfounded expression answers for you.
"The horrible, evil witch from the east, Master! Surely you must remember her. She has already cast her evil spells on the fields and beasts. Now she has threatens to unleash the worst of her powers on Harvest Moon!" Betta's face twists in anguish. "On the morrow, Master. You must dispatch her. No other Lord has the strength to oppose her. We stand so much to harm if she is not overwhelmed. It is you, Master, who must save us." She hangs her head for a moment, and then lifts her woebegone face to yours, "Master... you must. We have no other hope."
Her eyes, swimming with tears, her thick wet lashes and her solemn but hopeful expression undo you. Why do this woman's tears always move you? Knowing that your answer is madness and that all you are likely to do is cause your own death, you find that you cannot bear to disappoint her. Fighting your intense desire to pull her into your arms and smother her with kisses, you speak instead.
"Betta, bring my sword."
An hour's sore ride later you are facing a low cave, cut into a rocky hillside. It is a relief to dismount from your horse, no doubt a fine animal, but lacking even the outmoded shock absorbers of your Geo Prism.
"Is there anything you can tell me, dear, which will help me vanquish this evil witch? Are there any weaknesses that you are aware of? Anything whatsoever I can use to my advantage?"
"I have heard that she can change shapes and take on any appearance that she desires. But it is only as her true self that she can be vanquished. More than that I fear I do not know except her name, Suhaylah, and that she comes from the land near Babylon where they have strange gods and ways."
Betta puts her hand over her eyes to shield them from the noonday sun and peers into darkness of the cave. She looks down at you. You reach up to her and she somberly takes your hands, kissing them tenderly first on one side and then the other.
"I will wait for you, Master."
"Not too close by, Betta. If I do not come to you by sunset you must leave without me."
She nods gravely and pulls the reins, turning away. You hear the slow, steady steps of her mare fade until there is no sound or presence around you but the wind. Your sword, absurdly large, clanks against your thigh as you walk across the rocky ground into the cave.
Now that Betta has gone and you're alone, fear grips you. It was easy not to think about the forthcoming confrontation when you were riding with her; admiring her angelic face, watching the way her long tresses caressed her back, talking quietly and stealing glances at the tops of her full breasts; the outline of her slender thighs.
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Keywords: Woman, 02, A, Time, and, a, Box,, Ch.,