Tamburlaine Must Die by Louise Welsh Read Free Book Online Page B

disgust, so different from the smooth
tones that had eased blasphemies from me.

    `You're
a wicked man. Make your peace before you die. Your time is coming
soon.'

    He
spat on my face and pushed me away. His footsteps rang slow and
insolent into the dark streets beyond. The drink heaved within me and
I bent over on the roadside, retching into the gutter. When I turned,
sword in hand, ready to stick him through, Baynes was nowhere to be
seen.

    Blaize
weaved from the alley just as Baynes's steps died into silence. He
tucked himself safe within his breeches, laughing at my distress,
then flung his arm under mine. His touch came too fast on Baynes's
betrayal and I struggled against him. But he held me upright, half
crutch half rudder, steering me I knew not where. He staggered and
fell, pitching me forward. I heaved again and felt my head grow
clearer, though my heart felt sick with stupidity and fear. Blaize
struggled to his feet and misreading my dread for melancholy said, `I
have a room nearby and on the way we will collect a cure for your
malaise.' I watched as Blaize undressed the girl, unfastening her
bodice, being gentle with her for she was rightly nervous at being
alone with two men. I started to strip myself. We had visited this
vice before. I knew how it went and could think of no better way to
lose myself than this further degradation.

    The
girl's body shone silver in the darkness. Blaize presented her to me
like an unwrapped gift. She smiled bravely, she had decided he was
safe, but I was an unknown quantity, silent and stern while he was
all tickles and smiles.

    I
placed my palm on the small of her back, pulling the girl towards me.
She let herself be drawn, but there was enough resistance to let me
know she was still unsure or perhaps she thought it might excite me.

    `How
now, Mistress Minx? I whispered. `I would that we had a light.'

    And
she pushed herself against me, rocking against the hardness she felt
there. I put my face in her hair, smelled smoke and evening air and
heard her say, `We will make sparks by moonlight.' And felt better.
It was such an old phrase that I knew she had said it to other men
and I was not the destroyer of her innocence. I ran my fingers softly
around the curve of her rear, over the swell of her thighs, into the
swoop of her waist. The contrast between her soft round flesh and my
stiff arrow straightness was fascinating. I wished we had a glass, so
I could see us side by side, watch my body merging into hers. I
dipped my head to her throat, pushed a finger inside her, then rubbed
her wetness against her nipple and pressed it to my mouth. She
gasped, hooking her legs around my waist, helping me guide myself
within her, clasping her hands around my neck. I placed my palms to
her rear, leading her into a rhythm that had us both gasping until
the strain became too much and I lowered her to the bed, covering her
with my body. Conscious all the time of Blaize's smile in the gloom.

    When
we had finished and began to draw apart I felt the return of her
nervousness and understood she knew this was the dangerous time,
after the act, the moment men often turned and did harm to women. I
stroked her hair in reassurance and looked towards Blaize. He shook
his head and threw me a coin. It twinkled as it shot through the
dark. I caught it and gave it to the girl, adding two of my own. Her
relief hung in the air as she quickly dressed herself, eager to
leave. When the door had shut behind her Blaize hissed, `You might go
to Hell for this.'

    The
liquid dark embraced us both. I whispered, `Hell is on this earth and
we are in it.' His breath stroked my face, he reached towards me,
then we were together. Sometime in the night I woke to the sound of
sobbing. But whether it came from the street, or within my head I
could not say.

    Where
else can a poet live but the bastard sanctuaries? Beggars' breeding
grounds where all are as welcome, or unwelcome, as the other. My
lodgings are in a broken-up