JIT – Journey in Time (Part 3 of 4)

 JIT – Journey in Time (Part 3 of 4)

(Contains scenes of an upsetting/distressing nature)

By John Abbott

Nothing !! - A short conversation to a clerk on the Swedish commanders staff and my documents were handed over, both without praise or explanation. Hours later when I returned to the inn which was our pre-arranged meeting place, I was told of the desertion of nine of our company. These nine had decided that they could gain better sustenance without the help of Fraser's leadership. Whereupon Fraser then made a decision that would forever haunt my life.

The nineteen remaining members of this advance company were to ride South from the town without delay and attempt to seek hospitality from one of the surrounding villages. At least, that was what I was told, which only shows my complete and utter naiveté in the ways of the world. Oh, how much I now regret becoming one of that hungry band of marauders.

It was only much later that I was to find out that the city of Rothenburg effectively upheld the rule of law in this area of Franconia. The companies mood became noticeably more relaxed as we left Wurzburg. The riders within the group seemed happier, they chatted and laughed amongst themselves, but, alas, no smiles from Presten. At the time, I thought that I was somehow missing out on being part of the companies good humour, later it became much more obvious why their spirits were raised.

 

I shall NEVER forget the day that we appeared on the outskirts of that village. It was a Monday, the twenty-eighth of January in the year of our Lord 1634 and it was on this day that I was to forever break whatever rules of morality I had set myself.

We approached the village of Linden at approximately Midday, having finished our last meagre rations of wine a little earlier. Fraser had, by this stage, already given out various instructions to the members of our Company. My understanding of the situation was quite simple. The villagers had been paid regularly to supply sustenance and would do so willingly, and any failure to do so, or any disagreements that might have occur, would be dealt with by discussion with Fraser himself. In extraordinary circumstances, problems would be dealt with by using the absolute minimum of force - hopefully by threat rather than by action, which to this participant seemed quite reasonable considering the food situation in this area in general. The only man who appeared to dislike all this was our moody friend Presten, whose demeanour was not exactly endearing. As we calmly rode into Linden, through the trees skirting its north-western edge, there was no sun showing itself in the sky, only endless tumbling thick grey clouds. All our riders entered this small village of but nine or ten dwellings quite openly. 

There was no brandishing of arms, no blatant hostility, just nineteen hungry, thirsty horsemen.

Fraser was calm and measured as he split us into two's and told us to inquire at each dwelling for supplies. I was obviously paired with Sil, which, for a reason still unbeknown to me, was treated with great humour by the rest of our party. It was presumably an insult of some kind but I did not, nor did I wish to, examine the content of the derisory remarks. Sil was definitely upset by these comments and reacted angrily.

 

As our horses were dismounted and tied up to the nearest horse rails, a few of the inhabitants began to appear. Sil had dismounted in an angry petulant fashion. He rushed to the nearest building and hammered with his fist upon the door. I stepped quickly after him. The door opened and the occupier appeared. This German had grey hair, he looked frail and thin and must have been all of fifty plus years in age. In his native tongue of German, he demanded of Sil an explanation.

" What do you want ? What do you want of us?

Sil's response to the old man surprised me enormously! He simply punched the old man full in the face, knocking him to the floor inside his home. He then stamped his way inside and began to shout what I presumed to be abuse in German at whoever else was within. I stooped to help the old man to his feet, whilst he vigorously attempted to staunch the flow of blood escaping from his nose. I glanced outside and as I pivoted around, the truth began to dawn upon me. Loud shouting and cursing, some Swedish but mostly German, had become the order of the day. The whole company was armed and acting belligerently towards the inhabitants of this village. Doors were being battered on and homes were being forcibly entered. I turned back as the old man, right hand firmly on his nose, half-closed the door with his left. As I quickly surveyed the interior, I felt a cold creak of horror screaming through my mind.

There was a large table and chairs centrally placed in the room and there were three other doors, two on the wall to my right, and another to the left side. Sil was standing just to my left in front of the table. I was horrified to see that he had drawn his rapier and was threatening a young woman seated in the corner, who appeared to be the only other occupant of this building. I remonstrated with Sil.

 

" What are you doing ? Put your sword away, you don't need it here!"

He only had a laconic reply for me." Shut up, English!"

 

I decided to try and calm the situation. I sat at the table and quietly asked the young woman for food and wine whilst carefully surveying her features. She was young, possibly similar in years to my good self. Her hair was the colour of bright chestnuts and she had a plain look about her without being unattractive. She had a slim figure, and she wore a long simple high-waisted dress of deep blue with a white low cut front revealing ample bosom. Although she was obviously frightened, she attempted a brave smile towards me. Sil sat gruffly down next to me, banged his free fist upon the table and shouted.

"Yes ! Food, wine. Now!"

He put his rapier into its scabbard and shouted again.

"Now, woman! Wine! Now!"

The old man, who was still dabbing his nose with a handkerchief, waved the girl away to one of the doors on the right.

"Go, Hanna, fetch some wine."

The woman called Hanna rose and walked swiftly into what was presumably their kitchen. The old man explained to us that they only had a little bread, no real food, but they could gather some old vegetables to make a broth of sorts but it would probably not cure our hunger. Sil gave the impression that he was an oaf by staring around the room with a moronic gaze and occasionally muttering the German word for "Wine". The old man now sat at the table, to our right, blocking my view of Hanna in the other room. I cautiously tried to begin a conversation.

"Jonathon, my name is Jonathon."

His queer expression left little doubt that he did not understand English. We had a strange situation here; an Englishman versed in his native tongue along with Latin and French and understanding a little German, with a Finn who could speak a little German and English, both in a German household where they appeared to only fully understand German. Then the old man, still tentatively dabbing his nose with a bloodied hankerchief, spoke to me. Perhaps he did understand?

"Georg Rosch and my wife - Hanna."

Sil broke up whatever conversation might have followed between this Rosch and my good self with a loud scream of, "Woman, wine!"

 

I would have attempted to calm him again, but at that moment, Hanna appeared from the kitchen with a large wooden tray with six bottles and two jugs upon it. Sil rose from his seat and as a childish grin appeared upon his face he shouted, "Good! good! wine!"

 

The tray was placed upon the table and Hanna sat sheepishly back in the corner. Rosch looked at me, then switched his eyes to Sil as Sil glumly uncorked a bottle and set the glasses in front of himself. He poured into both slowly and as he did, Rosch, whose nose now seemed to have stopped bleeding, narrowed his eyes at Sil in an evil look of hatred. Sil sat, then pushed a jug to me, which I picked up and began to sip. Unfortunately, Sil had other ideas, he emptied his jug in one mouthful, poured another and made a gesture to me indicating that I should follow suit. I did and the drinking like this continued for quite a few minutes. Sil and I had almost finished two bottles whilst Rosch and his wife Hanna simply watched, afraid to speak and scared of provoking Sil into any additional violent acts. Sil drained the second bottle and then began to drink the third at a more conservative pace and I made the mistake of joining him. I was already feeling light-headed when Sil again rose from his chair and spoke to Hanna.

"Woman, come here."

She looked at Sil, glanced to Rosch and flicked her eyes to me. Somehow she looked less plain than earlier. She was very cautious, but she slowly moved closer to Sil. She sat herself opposite him at the table.

"You, woman, drink wine too!"

"No!" was her short answer.

"Yes, drink!" said Sil.

With a worried soulful look she again answered "No!"

 

Sil looked at her without a change of expression, stood up and whilst continuing to drink, began to slowly walk around the room. The drinking was progressing too quickly for me, I could not hold my drink at this pace. My head was beginning to feel as though it was spinning when Sil again gestured to Hanna and demanded.

"Woman, drink wine with me!"

She again glanced at all the three men in the room then answered a third time, "No, I cannot!"

Sil leant slowly towards her and suddenly grabbed her by the hair.

"You drink wine!"

 

Rosch jumped up immediately. There was nothing I could do, the alcohol was having an effect. Sil glared at Rosch and screamed at him some German that I did not understand. As Rosch, helpless against a man of such bulk, sank into his seat again, Sil twisted Hanna's hair and pulled her upwards. She moaned in pain but said nothing. I spoke to Sil.

"Leave her, we can drink the wine."

His response was again straightforward. "Shut up, English!"

Although it numbs me to remember, I will never forget what we did that afternoon. I do not really wish to go any further into the squalid detail, but I must exorcise these events somehow. Sil twisted Hanna's hair tighter and, using his free hand, ripped open the front of her dress. Her breasts sprang free of the torn clothing, as she screamed. Rosch simply buried his head into his hands in anguish. Sil slapped Hanna to stop her screaming, but to no avail Sil literally picked her up by her hair and slammed her back against the table.

"Woman, I want you!” he stated.

He lifted her easily, and threw her upon the table, face up. The tray was knocked to the floor. One bottle shattered, the others rolled over and over, adding to the noise of Rosch crying and Hanna screaming to God for help. Hanna went limp, in fear or shock, or both, I knew not. She was wide-eyed, but did not struggle much, only whispering, " God... God..." as Sil roughly stripped her of every stitch of clothing she was wearing. Not gently, he simply tore it off, the dress, her underskirts, her long lacy knickers, and her footwear were thrown across the room. Rosch fell to his knees with his back to us and began weeping and whining heavily whilst huddled on the floor.

 

(To be Continued)

 

Copyright John Abbott