Merrick (4 page)

I was a muddy mess
by the time I reached the door. I set the basket down under the eaves and
started for the lean-to to strip and wash, but Merrick opened the door as I was
turning.

“You mustn’t stay
out here cold and wet,” he said.

“I thought I’d
just clean off a bit,” I said, shaking my wet hair from my eyes.

Merrick lifted the
hem of his robe and stepped outside into the rain, putting a hand on my back
and pressing me toward the lean-to. He latched the door and hung his lantern,
then quickly removed his cloak and hung it on a peg near the stove. “Take off
your clothes,” he said, stoking the coals near the tub of water.

I stood frozen in
place. It was dim in the shelter, but still much brighter than the bedroom had
been when I had lit a match and glimpsed Merrick without his robe. He was
dressed much like me, in boots and breeches with a simple white shirt, and his
short black hair fell in silky tendrils about his temples and the nape of his
neck.

Most importantly,
his beauty was stunning in the glow of the coals and the lantern, and the gray
cloud light that seeped in through a few cracks in the walls of the lean-to.
His skin was firm and taut, and his garments clung loosely to a graceful,
muscular body that looked as young and robust as any I’d ever seen.

For God’s sake!
Was he not clearly a young man? Did that not change everything?

With Merrick, I
thought I had recognized all the qualities I attached to an old master: calm
and patient as a result of his many years on earth, humbled by wrinkled skin
and creaking bones, and pleased to pass his knowledge on to a willing
successor. Being as young and unlearned as he was old and wise, it was only
natural that I had deferred to him.

In fact, deep
down, I was glad for it; for having ever lacked a father of my own, I had
always held a tender place in my heart for the attention of any man who took
the trouble to teach me anything, from the old drunk who’d taught me cards at
the tavern where my mother worked to the aged book collectors who first told me
about their favorite items.

Really, it was no
surprise that Merrick had charmed me, with his air of age and wisdom, his
patient, paternal manner, and – not least of all – the druid-like robe that
projected timeless authority.

But here was he
revealed, young and vital, no older than my drinking partners in the city!

Oh, I was thrown.
Every time things started to make sense…

“William?”

He was looking at
me, and I was caught momentarily by his startling amber eyes. The color was so
pure and luminous it was as though they were lit from within.

Blinking, I
managed to break away from his golden gaze to pull off my shirt and hang it on
a hook near the laundry tub. Then I sat on a stool to remove my filthy boots
and my stockings. After setting them aside, I was still.

“Must I remove
your pants for you?” Merrick asked with an exasperated sigh. “Or are you
confident enough in my ability to cure pneumonia?”

I looked miserably
at him, but quickly remembered to avert my eyes lest I be caught in that gaze
again . I slowly unbuttoned my breeches and rose to remove them, determined to
ignore his smooth skin and elegant features, the way his amber eyes were set
off by his soft, ink-black hair.
No more looking
, I told myself sternly.
You can’t trust yourself.
At last I stood naked.

“Come closer to
the coals,” Merrick said.

I padded closer,
standing in the warmth of the small stove with my hands folded in front of my
groin. “Did those boys find you this morning, sir?”

“The Jones twins?
They did. Breathe in the vapor.”

He had added
something to the water and stoked the flames so that it was steaming. I
stiffened, suspicious.

“It’s nothing out
of the ordinary, William,” Merrick said, his tone softening. “Eucalyptus and a
bit of mint, to refresh your lungs.”

“Thank you, sir,”
I mumbled, and ducked my chin a bit when he put a hand to the small of my back
and nudged me toward the steam. Did he not realize what happened when he
touched me? There was no way to stop him without revealing my own weakness. As
I breathed in the vapor, I watched from the corner of my eye as he dipped a
clean rag in the steaming water. Then he reached for a jar on a shelf above,
opened it, and shook a finely ground powder onto the steaming rag.

“You met the twins
on the road, did you?” Merrick asked.

I nodded, and only
jumped a little when he began to scrub my back in firm, circular motions.
Whatever powder he’d applied to the rag was pleasantly scratchy and gave off a
lovely scent. “What’s that you put on the cloth, sir?”

“Lavender salt.”

A curious thing
began to happen then: First, I started to relax. The rain was falling hard on
the tight wooden roof, and the occasional clap of thunder rumbled over us, but
inside the cedar shed things were warm and fragrant. The tingling vapors rising
from the steam made my lungs and head feel clear and fresh, and as Merrick’s
strong fingers massaged my back and shoulder muscles through the fragrant
cloth, I felt myself lulled into a state of calm I hadn’t felt in a long, long
while.

And then, my
long-frazzled brain did an extraordinary thing. I can only describe it thusly:
in some convenient corner of my mind, a strong and sturdy Wall began to slowly
rise. And as it went up, it concealed from view all of the alarming feelings
and confusing paradoxes that had been swarming about my head for days,
threatening to drive me mad.

Most blessedly, it
sealed away the two most stubborn, nerve-wracking, tormenting questions of all:
Why did my body yearn for Merrick? And why did the yearning seem to touch my
very soul?

As these terrible
queries faded from the forefront of my mind, disappearing behind the Wall to be
addressed at some later point (or never), I was able to enjoy a sensation of
peace and quiet I had not experienced in weeks.

No longer did I
have to wonder why I was so willing to stand here completely nude while
Merrick’s powerful hands massaged my bare skin. Instead, I could simply enjoy
it.

And enjoy it I
did. My head drooped over the vapors as I leaned against the solid wooden
shelves on either side of the hearth, soaking up the powerful ministrations
that turned my knotted muscles to tender bliss.

“May I ask
something, sir?” I murmured after a spell,

“You may.”

“Are you human?”

There was a pause,
and then, to my surprise, Merrick answered. “Not anymore.”

“Then are you some
kind of devil?”

He was quiet, but
didn’t miss a beat in kneading my lower back. “Would you want to know if I
were?”

“I never believed
in any such nonsense,” I replied. “Witches, devils, demons, or vampires.”

His touch faded
for a moment, and then returned. “Then you may not believe me if I told you I
were one of those things?”

“I would believe
you.”

“And would you be
frightened?”

“If you threatened
me, I would be frightened.”

I heard vague
amusement in his voice. “And if I didn’t threaten you?”

“I wouldn’t see
any cause for fright.”

He laughed softly.
“Now, is that proof that we are still in the Age of Reason? Or that it is, in
fact, drawing to a close?”

I had never heard
him speak in jest before, and that quiet laugh sent a shiver down my spine. If
I cared to prevent another embarrassing incident – and I cared quite
distinctly, Wall or no Wall – I thought it best that I keep talking. “How old
are you, sir?”

“I am two hundred
and eighty-two years old.”

I turned that over
in my mind for awhile.

Was it possible
the man was simply crazy?

No. I reminded
myself of all of the bizarre elements that ruled out any simple, earthly
explanation. Something supernatural was afoot, and I had no reason to doubt his
honesty. “How long have you been in this country?”

“For forty-five
years. Before that I was in France, and before that Italy, and before that
England.”

“What are you,
then, Master Merrick?”

Merrick rinsed the
rag and wrung it over my back, sloughing the salt from my skin. Then he
lathered it with soap and ran it over my back in broad, slow sweeps. “I don’t
feel it’s time to talk about that, William.”

“Do you think it
will frighten me?”

“I think it will
come out soon enough. We are living in close quarters.” He washed beneath my
arms, and from my shoulders to my wrists.

I couldn’t fathom
why he was doing me such an intimate favor. Perhaps he didn’t think I washed
well enough myself? That was a worrisome thought. I was nothing if not fastidious,
but he did seem rather particular about cleanliness himself. Suddenly I
remembered something I’d been curious about. “Why did you ask the court for an
apprentice, Master Merrick?”

“I was advised
that it was time to do so.”

“But you could
have found anyone to be your student, sir. Tradesmen who take their apprentices
from the state don’t usually invest in their charges…” I lost my train of
thought as the rag traveled over my chest, but forged on with determination.
“…with such kind attention.”

“I know,” Merrick
replied. “And the delinquents they receive as charges are not usually such
charming and articulate young men. I suppose we are both fortunate.” After a
moment he added, “I was advised quite specifically that I was to ask the court
for an apprentice. I acted accordingly, and am glad that I did.” He rinsed the
soap from my body. “Now, go inside and put on some tea. We’ll rest today.”

I straightened up
with a nod and patted myself dry with a cloth that always hung from a peg on
the wall. I left the shed feeling much refreshed – and none too relieved to
have gotten through that without incident. That was worth a long sigh of relief
once I closed the door behind myself.

I dressed in my
night shirt, for lack of anything else to wear, and put on the tea. Merrick
came in as I was settling down at the table. He was wearing his robe again, but
took it off and hung it over the chair near the door. It seemed he no longer
saw any reason to hide his face from me, now that I’d seen it.

Lord
, he
was a handsome man! What I would have given for looks like that! Not that I’d
ever had any complaints, but I doubted the Devil himself could have come up
with a more devastatingly magnetic visage than Merrick’s.

On the other hand,
perhaps he
was
the Devil himself…for all I knew.

“You were born in
the city?” Merrick asked, after settling into his chair with his tea.

I looked up from
the table where I’d opened a book with my lunch. “Yes,” I said, admiring his
easy pose in his chair. One leg was stretched out, the other bent at the knee,
and he leaned lightly on one arm of the chair with a book in his hand.

He turned his
bright amber eyes on me. “You enjoyed your life there?”

“There was never a
dull moment.” I paused thoughtfully. “I’d never seen land like this, though. Or
a running stream.” I paused again. “I hope my mother’s happy for my being here.
She has never liked the city.”

Merrick looked
back at his book and turned the page. “Perhaps she can come for a visit later
on.”

I felt an ache in
my chest in response. I hadn’t seen my mother in weeks. I never even had the
chance to see her after I was thrown in jail. I hoped she’d get my letter
swiftly, and that she wasn’t worried.

“I was sorry to
hear of her predicament,” Merrick murmured, as though reading my mind. Maybe he
could...for all I knew. “I hope it will be a comfort to her to hear that you
are safe and sound.”

“Thank you, sir,”
I said quietly, miserable at the thought of another person knowing what my poor
mum had done. It came as no real surprise, I supposed, that Merrick had heard
of the circumstances. But, still… “No one in that damn filthy place can keep
his mouth shut,” I muttered in spite of myself.

“That is true.”
Merrick turned another page, and said more gently, “But you can rest assured
they have no room for judgment in their hearts.”

I stared at my
tea, gloomy.

However, spending
the day in the cozy cottage with Merrick, listening to the rain fall outside,
was irresistibly relaxing. My mood was calm before long. After supper, which I
ate alone as always, Merrick lifted my spirits immeasurably when he produced a
bottle of port.

A bit of small
talk led to a pleasant exchange on philosophy. Merrick seemed pleased by my
familiarity with Montesquieu and Rousseau, and I was intrigued by his talk of
the German Immanuel Kant. I stayed up later than usual and found myself
becoming drowsy as it neared eleven. How quickly habits changed! When my
thoughts were interrupted by a deep yawn, Merrick smiled and nodded me off to
bed. I bid him goodnight and left him with his books.

I was only dozing
lightly when the bed creaked beneath Merrick’s weight, and I was only beginning
to drift off again when I felt his hand on mine.

That woke me up
proper.

After a moment of
silence, his hand stroking mine in the dark, Merrick murmured, “You were not
affected when I bathed you.”

I was startled,
then confused. He could not possibly be referring to what immediately leapt
into my mind. Could he? I sniffed secretly for truth resin, and found the air
clear. “I was glad, sir,” I said uncertainly. “If that’s what you mean. I feel
much refreshed.”

There was silence.
Then Merrick moved closer, leaning over me.

Oh, God. Was he
testing me now? True, my body had spared me another embarrassing incident today
– but by no means did I feel confident it was more than a fluke!