TWELVE
I awoke the following morning to find myself alone in bed, with no sign of Tressa other than the rumpled bedclothes that covered the spot where she had slept. I raised myself up on my elbow immediately, calling her name, but she was not in the room and I fell back down into the bed, stretching luxuriously in the warmth of it and smelling the scent of her among the bedding.
I must have fallen back to sleep again, because the next time I opened my eyes she was sitting on the bed above me, bent over and whispering my name. I came awake at once, reaching up for her and pulling her down to where I could kiss her, and my hand sought her body beneath the voluminous garment she wore. She quickly glided away from me, however, and my fingers slid down the warm slope of her thigh to land on the bedclothes as she bounded to her feet and went to fling wide the shutters, allowing bright daylight to pour into the room.
"By the Christ, Tress, what time of day is it? Why didn't you wake me before now? It must be almost noon!"
"No, it is not yet midmorning, but your body needed sleep, and so I allowed you to sleep on when I arose." She grinned, a quick grin, filled with mischief. "I thought it necessary."
"How? What do you mean?"
"What should I mean? Once you are rested sufficiently, you'll become strong enough again to use me as I wish to be used, without falling asleep."
"Without—? Did I do that?" I knew, of course, that I had. Kissing her own hand gently, she came back to the bed and reached out to caress my cheek with it. I felt myself growing hard again and tried to catch her by the wrist, but she was too quick for me. "Come back to bed, then," I rasped.
'Tonight I will, but not now, my love. Ambrose, Arthur, Dedalus and that man with the strange mask are all downstairs, waiting for you, so you must be quick, and I must be even quicker. I don't want them thinking that we might be doing what is clearly foremost in your mind. Plato is bringing up hot water and will be here directly. Wash your face quickly and come down. I've set out a new suit of leathers for you, over there, and a new tunic that I sewed myself. Be quick."
She spoke the last words as she went out the door and I groaned and heaved myself around to sit on the side of the bed, looking at the clothes she had mentioned. Rubbing the remnants of sleep from my eyes, I went to examine them more closely and found myself whistling admiringly at the magnificent workmanship that had gone into their creation.
Plato knocked and entered, bidding me good day. Two troopers followed, one bearing a collapsible washstand with a suspended leather bucket and a large pitcher of water, the other carrying a larger, steaming pitcher. As they set up the device under Plato's watchful eyes, I turned my attention again to the strange looking garment in my hands. It was a single undergarment of some kind, made of a very fine , light, brushed wool. I soon identified the holes for my arms and the shape of the collar, but it took me some time longer to identify the purpose of the lower appendages. Then I realized how the garment worked. The bottom end of it contained two sleeve like openings for my thighs. Between those hung a flap that I reasoned must come up between my legs like an ordinary breech cloth and attach, somehow, in front. Satisfied that I had some understanding of the thing, I dropped it and went to the steaming washbasin. Plato and his assistants had departed by then, and I made short work of my ablutions, drying myself with a clean towel before beginning to dress.
The undergarment went on smoothly, once I had discovered that I must insert my legs into the requisite openings before pulling the body up around my waist and attempting to shrug into the upper part. The legs were short, perhaps a handbreadth long, and clung comfortably to my upper thighs, but their very snugness emphasized the looseness of my dangling genitalia. I ignored that, for the moment, and concentrated on the upper part The armholes were sleeveless and I shrugged into them without difficulty, then laced up the deep V at my chest experimenting with the tension of the lacing and finally leaving it loosely tied. I bent forward then, and pulled the hanging rear flap up between my legs, cinching ft so that it was both tight and comfortable. I fed the two narrow tapes I found attached to the outside corners through two loops sewn to the shirt's body and then tied them in a bow across my middle, smiling now at the clever simplicity of the design. I would be able to reach up beneath my tunic and release the flap with a single tug, then hold it aside while I answered nature's call.
Feeling light hearted now, I pulled on the leather trousers and fastened them securely about my waist before slipping my new, white tunic over my head, feeling the softness of the stuff with which it was lined. Even on the quilted breast and short sleeves and almost knee length skirts of this garment, which would seldom if ever be seen by anyone, Tressa had worked designs of flowers and plants in silken threads, her needlework so delicate and fine that the depictions seemed to be an integral part of the tunic's fabric.
Finally, I picked up the leather top piece and looked at it closely before putting it on. It hung open in front, and from its middle depended two lengths of leather belt, one three times the length of the other and each of them made from braided strips of differently coloured leather, yellow and blue. I pulled on this coat and flexed my shoulders, arching my back and trying to find tightness anywhere, but the soft, buttery leather hung perfectly, shaped to my size and width without constricting my shoulder blades. The garment hung open and loose in front of me and the longer of the two belts hung from the right side. I fed that end through a vertical hole, edged with fine stitching, in the central seam of the left side and pulled it tight, flattening the front right flap across my belly. Then I brought the belt around my back, pulling the left flap into place and tying the two ends in place at my right side, allowing the ends to hang free. I could not see the finished effect, but I knew it must be fine.
The lower part of the coat, beneath my waist, was cut into wide fringes, much like armoured flaps, a thumb's length wide. The flaps themselves were decorated handsomely, stamped in relief with a simple, Celtic scroll pattern and outlined in blue stitch work. Similarly, the shoulders of the coat were of multiple layers, stiff as armour, and from them smaller leather flaps hung down to frame my upper arms in wide fringes of blue and gold. A pair of fleece lined boots in the same soft, supple leather completed the array. I laced them up quickly, enjoying the solid feel of their heavy, nail studded soles and knowing that I would have to be careful to walk upon carpets here in the upper chambers, where the floors woe made of highly polished, decorative wood.
Tressa was waiting for me at the top of the broad stairs that led down to the main part of the house, and from the smile on her face I knew she was happy with the results of all her work. As we descended the stairway together, Dedalus gave an appreciative, drawn out whistle that was sheer lechery, although it was intended sarcastically for me, not for Tressa. I decided to ignore his ill manners, but I could not resist pausing at the foot of the stairs and preening, showing off the craftsmanship that had gone into my new garments. All four of them then, Ambrose, Arthur, Ded and Llewellyn, acknowledged my sartorial splendour and complimented Tressa sincerely. She nodded her head graciously, well pleased, and left us alone.
Ambrose cut immediately to the heart of the matters we had to discuss that day. Connor and Brander's party had already left Camulod, shortly after daybreak, and had been adamant that I not be disturbed from my rest, since we had made our farewells the previous night. Now Ambrose wanted me to go with him to meet his Northumbrian guests.