Free Tale of Raw Head and Bloody Bones (9781101614631) by Jack Wolf Page A

known. They were Gypsies.
    “This is too much—where did you find them?” I said.
    “On the Ridge Way.”
    “And they have agreed to play for you?—Oh, but you have traded something for their Services, have not you? Not the Pony?”
    Nathaniel laughed. “These good Folk are here of nothing but the Love they bear to me. I have claimed Kinship with them these three Yeares, and more.”
    “But by Hell, Nat,” I said. “They will never do something for nothing.”
    “Kinship, Tris.”
    “You are Kin more to me than to any bloody Gypsy.” I was suddenly angry, but unable to understand wherefore.
    “You are more my Brother than my Brother,” Nathaniel said, looking straight into mine Eyes. “But you cannot play the Fiddle or the Flute. Put your Anxieties to Bed, Tristan; no Harm will come to either of us here. Look, there is your Margaret, dresst as pretty as you please and glancing over in our Direction. She adores you; ’tis a Fact.”
    “She trifles with me, merely.”
    “Then she does only as you do. ’Tis May Eve, Tris; go to.”
    Nathaniel was not to be resisted, so I did, despite my Misgivings, go to. Nathaniel joined marvellous Play with the Musicians upon his Drum and their Strings, although when he was not so engaged he found the Time to enchant every one of his Guests with his rare Manners and exceptional good Looks. I reached into my sociable Etui and extracted Charm. I was polite, witty, amusing. I drank more than my fair Share of Punch and made meaningless Conversation with Nathaniel’s Hangers-on. I danced
Greenwood
and
Chirping of the Lark
with several of the Wives and Sisters, including those who had not been invited to stand up with anybody else. Margaret dragged me off to a vacant Chamber at about half-past Midnight and did her best to wear me out before kicking me back to the Assembly at a quarter to two.
    I was shamefacedly aware of the Figure I must cut—my Shirtdisturbed, my Breeches unlaced—but to my Shock I quickly understood that I was not the only Gentleman in the upper Room in such a State. The Gypsy Musicians had ceased their Playing. The wax Candles, having been allowed, in the Absence of Margaret, to burn down, had grown dim; and in some Corners of the Room, Darkness prevailed intirely. Within its Penumbrae, I could discern vague Human Shapes, writhing about upon one another like Serpents.
    I had never visited a Bagnio, but the Scene before me was such as to put me compleatly in Mind of one.
    “’Tis a Debauch,” I said aloud, in Wonderment and exquisite Horrour. Then I thought: Where is Nathaniel?—and before I could stop My Self, for I knew that Nathaniel would certainly be busy in the darkest Corner with the prettiest Girl—I shouted: “Nat!”
    Several Seconds later—it may have been a full half Minute—Nathaniel materialised out of nothing at my Side.
    “What Devilry is this, Nat?” I demanded. “’Tis an Orgy.”
    “Indeed, ’tis not,” Nathaniel said.
    “Should I disbelieve the Evidence of mine own Eyes?”
    “Look around you once again.”
    I did so; and as my Vision became accustomed to the warm Dimness I began to perceive more properly those Figures that had seemed twisted and uncertain. One Couple, whose lower Limbs I had seemed to see entwined in strenuous Congress up against the farthest Wall, stood innocently together in plain Conversation. A second, who had appeared to be likewise engaged upon one of the low Benches beside the Table, sat now quietly listening to the Opinions of a third, whose Presence I had not noticed at all.
    “I thought I saw them fucking,” I said.
    Nathaniel stared at me.
    “I think I had ought go home, Nat,” I said.
    “Then I shall accompany you,” Nathaniel said. “And we shall take our Revells with us. The Party here is ending, anyway. I have given enough of My Self to these poor Ingrates for one Evening. We shall raid your Father’s wine Cellar and watch the Sunne rise from the Steps of Shirelands