Chapter Four
No Horses, Please
The effect of the question, 'what will we do now?' is best described as a huge bucket of ice water dumped on the three men's heads, bringing them out of their thoughts of last night, and drowning them in reality.
“Before we do anything I need to piss and shave,” Francois said, slowly getting up from the sofa.
The washroom was next to the wardrobe. It contained a tall table big enough for two wash basins and had a mirror on the wall above. The shelf at the bottom of the wash stand held a large pitcher of water and some clean towels. On the bench at the back wall was two large chamber pots. One pot was nearly full and reeked of old pee. The other pot had a pile of crap in the bottom. They had not had a maid in for several days.
“Let Magnus and I take a piss before you start primping,” Klaus grumbled.
“Very well. Magnus, you first,” Francois said, smiling at Magnus and gesturing toward the washroom door. He was determined to show Magnus every courtesy. He was not going to be bested by that asshole, Klaus.
Placing his hands on the arms of the chair, Magnus carefully pushed himself up to stand. He winced with every step. 'What the fuck did I do last night?' His ass was sore, his hip muscles ached and his back felt like it was broken. He really didn't want to know right now. The answer was probably embarrassing. He made it into the washroom and closed the door.
Klaus retrieved his travel bag, which was still sitting on the floor by the door, and set it down on the bed. He pulled a bottle of rum out of the bag and took two big swallows. He capped the bottle and glared at Francois. He only had two rounds with Magnus last night. Francois had three. 'It's all your fault that Magnus is in this condition, you piece of shit,' he thought to himself.
Francois leaned against the wall next to the washroom door and crossed his arms on his chest. He glanced over at Klaus then looked away, ignoring him. “You pounded Magnus like your dick was a battering ram, you dirty cocksucker. No wonder he can't walk.'
As soon as Magnus stepped out, Klaus went into the washroom next. He hated the idea of leaving Magnus alone with Francois, even for a minute.
Magnus pulled the curtains back and opened the glass doors all the way, then hobbled out to the balcony to lean on the railing. Although he felt like dog shit under someone's shoe, the fresh air was wonderful. The stench in the room was nauseating and he wanted to vomit. He took several deep breaths as he felt an arm wrap around his shoulder.
“Dear Magnus, is there something I can do for you?” Francois said softly, leaning close to Magnus's ear.
“Yes. I'd like a bath,” Magnus said without hesitation. “Actually, I think we all could use a bath,” he sighed and wrinkled his nose, noticing how ripe Francois smelled.
“I'll go down to the front desk and request hot water for us,” Francois smiled, genuinely pleased that he was able to do something personal for Magnus. “I won't be long,” he said and went to the door.
“And some water, please,” Magnus called to him. His mouth was dry and tasted like a whole infantry division had been marching through it.
“Right away,” Francois called back and left, closing the door.
Klaus came out of the wretched smelling washroom...making sure to close the door...and started gathering up his clothes off the floor. He made a mental note to find a good tailor as soon as possible to replace his tattered shirt and pants. He would do so at Francois' expense. At least his coat and hat were fine. He looked around briefly, noticing the room for the first time since he got here. The coved ceiling was plastered a light blue. There were polished brass oil lamps on each white, plastered wall, and even a couple of paintings of the local countryside. He dumped his clothes on the bed and saw Magnus on the balcony, then realized Francois was not in the room. He finally had a chance to speak to Magnus, alone.
“Magnus, why did you leave?” he asked. His voice was serious, but quiet as he stood in the doorway, looking at Magnus's back.
“Because you abandoned me,” Magnus replied, sounding more angry than he intended. He felt tears welling up as he kept his back to Klaus.
“Shit, Magnus. I came back in a little over two weeks,” Klaus said, raising his voice, clearly frustrated.
“You didn't keep in touch with me. I didn't think you were coming back,” Magnus said, a bit defensively. He stared at the gardens below as tears rolled down his cheeks.
“You said you wanted a more exciting job,” Klaus began to explain. “Those kinds of jobs can also be dangerous and I don't want you to get hurt. I want you to be safe. It isn't easy to find work like that. Aw fuck, Magnus,” Klaus let out a long sigh, letting his shoulders slump. “I would never abandon you. I love you.”
Hearing that, Magnus turned around leaning his back on the railing. He fixed his teary blue eyes on Klaus' very sad, deep green eyes and asked, “You really love me?”
“Yes,” Klaus replied and waited for a response. After several seconds of silence Klaus asked, “Magnus, why did you ask me to come here?”
Dropping his eyes and picking at his fingers, Magnus confessed, “I...I was missing you.”
Magnus suddenly felt confused. Francois was charming and kind, and catered to him a great deal. Yet, he didn't know Francois' true feelings for him. On the other hand, Klaus was a bit rough around the edges, and had more of a 'bad boy' personality which Magnus found attractive. He also believed that Klaus loved him.
Suddenly feeling weak, Magnus swooned. But, before he hit the floor, Klaus was there wrapping his arms around Magnus's chest and holding him up. Magnus let his head fall onto Klaus's shoulder. That's when he noticed that Klaus didn't smell half as bad as Francois. He wondered how bad he himself smelled. “Let's go sit down,” Klaus said. Leaving the balcony doors open, he led Magnus to the bed. They sat quietly for a moment, with Klaus still holding on to Magnus and Magnus' head still resting on Klaus's shoulder.
“My head hurts and I feel dizzy,” Magnus whined.
Klaus's right arm held on to Magnus by the waist, as his left hand reached up to wipe the tears from Magnus's wet cheeks. “I have just the thing for what ails you,” Klaus said, sounding much more cheerful. From the travel bag on his left, he presented a bottle of rum. “A little hair of the dog that bit you,” Klaus grinned. “It's not whiskey, but it's alcohol so that's all that counts.”
Magnus accepted the bottle, uncapped it, then took two big swallows. The familiar taste of Klaus's favorite rum brought on a nostalgic feeling of the crazy days in Klaus's mansion. But, the moment was interrupted when the door came open and Francois stepped into the room carrying a large mug.
For just a second Francois scowled at Klaus, assessing what he was seeing. Then he quickly put on a smile and walked over to Magnus. “The bath is ready now. Here is the water you asked for,” he said, ignoring Klaus completely. “We should go before the bath water gets cold.” Francois turned and went to the wardrobe to gather clothes and boots.
“Yes, let's go,” Magnus said to no one in particular. He downed the water and set the mug on the bedside table. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself off the bed to stand. “Shit,” he groaned, and limped to the wardrobe to get some clean clothes and shoes.
Klaus decided to put what he was wearing back on after his bath. He stood up from the bed, picked his boots up off the floor, and went out the door leaving it open. Francois followed next. Magnus was last since he wasn't able to walk very fast. His head didn't hurt so much now, but he couldn't say that about the lower part of his body. Magnus closed the door, then flipped the 'do not disturb' sign, hanging on the doorknob, over to the side that read, 'maid service'. Single file, they all went down the stairs. Magnus lagged behind, clutching the handrail and carefully taking one step at a time, as he wondered why he was the only one who was so stiff and sore. Since nobody wanted to say anything about last night he might never know.
One by one, the three men entered the bathing room, looking and smelling more like penniless vagrants, instead of the wealthy men they are. The room was large and brightly lit with oil lamps, hanging on the wood paneled walls. To their right, sitting perpendicular to the wall, was five pale green ceramic tubs. To the left were five stalls for chamber pots. At the wall in front of them were five grooming stations, equipped with everything needed for dressing, shaving, and fixing hair. Directly in front of the grooming stations stood three attendants. The attendants wore dark blue suits, white shirts with blue bow ties, and stoic expressions.
“Well, fuck. Let's get this over with,” Francois said, handing his clothes to the attendant in front of him.
“Will the gentlemen be wanting a shave?” Francois' attendant asked, glancing at the three scruffy guys.
“I certainly do,” Magnus spoke up.
“Shit, yes. Count me in,” Klaus said as he rubbed a hand over his stubble.
“Fine then. We'll all have a shave,” Francois declared and headed for a tub already filled with hot water. Removing his filthy robe and letting it fall to the floor, he climbed in.
Magnus followed Francois' lead to the next tub. Klaus stripped down right where he was and handed his clothes to the third attendant - who raised one eyebrow and slightly nodded - then he proudly strutted to the tub next to Magnus where he lowered himself into the hot water.
The three maids, who were given the daunting task of cleaning the room, were just finishing up when the guys returned. The oldest maid pushed her cart past them, giving each one a sour look that puckered her mouth like a dried up fish. The two younger maids kept their heads down to hide their blushing cheeks. They gave a quick curtsy before hurrying down the hall to a service room to take care of their carts.
Still limping, Magnus entered the room first. He was immediately aware of the pleasant scent of sandalwood and pine, and the wonderful aroma of food they had ordered while in the bath. Two folding trays were set up in front of the sofa and one in front of the side chair. The trays each held a large bowl of beef stew and freshly baked rolls. Another folding tray was set with a pot of tea, cups, sugar and cream, and three apple tarts. Magnus' loud rumbling stomach sent him straight to the side chair, where he proceeded to stuff his mouth with all the haste of a starving man.
Francois came in paying little attention to the room. He zeroed in on Magnus then went to sit on the sofa, choosing the end closest to Magnus’ chair. He set the map he had gotten from the front desk on the floor beside the sofa. Thinking how long it has been since his last meal, he attacked the bowl of stew like he was never going to see food again.
Klaus, on the other hand, noticed every detail of the room. The stains on the rug were gone. The bed was made with clean, white sheets and a new green comforter. Not a speck of grime or dust was seen anywhere. Magnus's sword stood by one side of the bed, cleaned and polished. Francois' musket stood by the other side of the bed, also polished, as were the two pistols laying on the bedside table. Klaus' own sword lay across the foot of the bed next to his travel bag. He sat down and picked up the sword, examining the scabbard. All the scratches had been polished out so that it looked brand new. In that moment he was flooded with thoughts of Jesse and his maids, and how they meticulously kept his mansion back in Connecticut. Klaus laid the sword on the bed and took the bottle rum out of his travel bag. He let out a long sigh and went to join the other two for dinner.
As soon as they finished eating Francois spread the map out on the rug. They sat on the floor with cups of tea...Magnus's tea sweetened with cream and sugar, while Klaus and Francois spiked theirs with rum...and planned out their trip. Magnus wasn't paying much attention. All he cared about right now was how comfortable the bed looked and how much he wanted to lay down-that is until he heard Klaus say, “Since I have a horse already, we could buy two more horses and a pack horse.”
“NO!” Magnus screamed. “NO HORSES!” Then, more quietly, “I want a carriage with soft cushions. No horses, ple-e-e-ase.”
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