Mudcat Café message #2433020 The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #113933   Message #2433020
Posted By: katlaughing
06-Sep-08 - 10:06 PM
Thread Name: Fiction : The Dead Man's Guitar
Subject: RE: Fiction : The Dead Man's Guitar
"Music, 'bel! Weave me some patterns in the sky to ease my soul!" Reynard demanded of her.

Christobel smiled at him and pretended to search for the lute. Her heart was tapping against her breast like a frightened bird trapped against a glass cage. She turned on all of her wiles and danced seductively over to him. Reaching up to caress his face, she said, "Oh, my Lord, may I use my voice for you, tonight? I've been working on some pretty ditties which will make you forget the ways of men."

"Nay, you saucy wench! I want to hear the strums of my mother's memory. Get thee to it, now," and he slapped her on the bum half in jest but with enough force she knew he meant it.

She began then to cry, not too loudly and looked at him coyly, but he was too angry, and uncertain, to fall for it.

"What is it?" he said. "Where is my mother's lute?"

"Oh, my Lord, my darling Reynard...I hardly know how to tell you. The lute is lost!"

His eyes narrowed as she trembled before him. Black eyes with heavy black brows..a fierce visage was what she saw just as he raised his hand and he struck her. She screamed and backed away from him. "My Lord! I remind you I am the daughter of your Liege who will not look kindly on your treatment of me thus!"

"My Liege, wench," he said with an ugly snarl, "is dead this night at the hand of myself and others who threw off his backward ways. We are a new band of bold and powerful lords and all shall know of it soon enough. As for you...I shall have my pleasure of you this night, then you will be blocked up in the tower for the rest of your very short life. Destroyer of my mother! Her very life soul was in her lute. You deserve much more but I've no time!"

With that, he grabbed Christobel, drug her over to the large canopied bed and roughly tore her clothes from her. She turned away, trying to hide her nakedness, but he was too strong for her. Holding her with one hand, he ripped off his breeches and shirt, then spread his body over her, pinning her down as he thrust...taking her unwillingly, without her consent, pouring all of his anger into a hateful act, spending himself within with a great shudder. By then Christobel was no longer there...she'd gone completely silent, willed her mind to leave, stunned. She couldn't believe what had happened; what was happening.

In disgust, he rose from the bed, taking his clothes. "Lady" he said with contempt, "make yourself ready, for as promised, you are moving to the tower. Henceforth, you will be alone, completely, as you have left me alone without my mother's voice. No one shall hear you nor come near you. You will be walled in without food or drink. I want you to suffer for a long time before you die...think on me and what you have taken from me. He opened the chamber door and shouted for the guards. Giving them his hideous orders, he left Christobel in their custody knowing without concern they would carry out his orders no matter what they thought for no one wanted to defy Lord Reynard.

That sad, sad night found the once lovely Christobel in the tower, in the highest room, sobbing quietly to herself, begging the masons not to brick over the doorway. Once in awhile, she would rouse and run to the window, looking out over the moonlit courtyard, yelling for anyone to come to her aid. Servants and men of war, alike, refused to look up and would hurry on their way. In her sorrow, she started to keen, a low, mournful sound which eventually became song. Gradually, she realised she was singing his mother's favourite song. When she did, she sobbed and began to pray to the departed one, "Oh, Lady Mother of Reynard, please forgive me. Please guide your son and help him to be merciful. I beg of you, Madam, please do not let me die here and I shall sing for you every day in prayer and reverence."

The only answer she heard was a cold, ice cold, crackle of a voice, a cursing under its breath...vowing she would die there, forever with a song of strings running through her, away from her through the ages, never to be redeemed.