One Big Mistake

Stretching its neck out of its stall, a young hackney rotated his ears curiously towards the passing figure, watching with its black eyes as the strange creature paced by the stables, the sounds of jangling spurs following its every footfall.
Under the morning sunshine, the creature looked extremely out of place; like an owl or a bat. He belonged to the darkness, and now that he was out of his element, he was obviously restless because of it.
The Hessian stared down the rim of his tin cup, swirling the brown liquid that had became his elixir, as he walked back and forth in front of the stables, his black cloak trailing behind him like a fat shadow.
He couldn't spend another hour inside that house. The environment was far too stifling and alien to him, especially when it was festering with these wigged bastards. Serving them was one thing, in a way of fighting battles and passing facts, but having to stay for the whole night and day?!
He couldn't imagine anything worse than that. He'd rather face a whole group of savages unarmed and outnumbered than act like a manservant. He shivered at the thought, tipped up his head, and downed the rest of his drink.
It was all that wench's fault. He thought. He had come up with the same conclusion for the past few hours. Had she not appeared in his life, he would have come back to camp, pick up a nice supple washerwoman and use up his battle-induced excitement. Then, tired and appeased, he would return to his camp to sleep away the hours, till dusk returns.
And now look at him, pacing around like a caged animal. Just because that damned hag had taken a mad notion to give the girl a fair trial. Hah! Fair indeed!
“Hessian!”
His head jerked at the sound, surprised to hear his title called by a female voice. Looking at the source, he sighed, seeing the mistress standing, carrying a large bundle of blankets as she stepped out of the back door.
“How are you?” She demanded, stepping down to the wet earth. He noticed she had riding boots on, the kind the nobles wore when they come to watch the battles.
“I am on my way to the 'sick bay', soldier.” she explained, smiling a little as if she made a joke. Despite of not having the English dialect as his mother tongue, the Hessian knew this, but still did not fully understand it. Sensing this immediately, the woman continued more seriously, “I wanted to know if you require anything before I go.”

“I need nothing.” He said simply. Unlike many women, he did not need to bend down to peer at her face to speak. She was almost as tall as he was, which made him wonder of her roots.
Suddenly, Mme. Wimund's eyes fluttered down in a coy, shy display, “Are you sure?” She asked. The Hessian blinked, surprised that she was using that play on him.
“There is still a pot of coffee hanging over the hearth.” She said slowly. “Help yourself should you want some more.”
He stared as the woman walked past him, head held high. He didn't turn to see the older woman turn back to appraise him for one last time. He simply stared down into his cup, until, shrugging, he tipped it back again, catching whatever drops there were left.
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“Now, no matter what, you never come out wearing little or no petticoats, you hear?”
Jodi nodded, staring at herself in the mirror as Anna brushed her hair, gritting her teeth as the unfamiliar bristles scraped against her skin.
“Because if you don't”, Anna continued, “It's noticeable, and people are gonna think you as sloppy. Even whores are pretty neat when it comes with their dressings here, and for one so fresh and young like yourself, well, men are gonna be all over you like fleas on a dog's back.”
“Even in summer?” Jodi asked incredulously. She pressed her folded hands against her lap, feeling the stiff materials crinkle and bend. They didn't feel very comfortable.
“Some wear the robe chemise.” Anna said, “But the lady doesn't like them. Hates the French and anything that came from them. Like I had said, you must wear them under any circumstances.”
Anna twisted her hand, attempting to coil the hair into a customary bun. Jodi shut her eyes at the picture before her. She looked awful. The hair made her look strikingly similar to Olive Oyl, but in a worse way; while that cartoon character's hairstyle looked neat (if a little greasy), she had these shorter hairs around her ears. They stood out rebelliously from their roots, making her look scruffy and worn out.
Anna seemed equally unsure.
“Ah...” She began, “I think I might need some more pins.”
“Yeah.” Jodi agreed, watching as Anna ducked down into the box she had brought with her.
“AYE.” Anna corrected.
Jodi sighed, “Can't you just wrap a ribbon around my head like a headband or something?” She asked, “You know, let my hair loose but still have it pulled back?”
The image she was seeing was exactly why she never tied her hair back in a ponytail or anything. She always let her thick and coarse hair loose, and now hoped that she can get away with it in this era.
“You forget, you're in the wrong century.” Anna answered her. She came back up with her mouth full of pins, and began to repeat the process of coiling Jodi's hair.
Jodi stayed put as the older woman slid pins around her scalp, pulling at her hairs tightly but reassuringly. She had the sudden urge to wag her head, to test its hold, but she restrained herself as Anna obsessively picked at her new hairdo.
“That will do.” The slave woman said, almost absently.
“Do I have to wear a cap like you do?” Jodi asked. She craned her long neck and turned her head in different angles, feeling slightly alien by this new look.
Anna smirked, “No, child. Not you. But when the time comes when you get married, I'll sew one for you.”
Jodi reeled around to stare at her, but Anna was already bending down again to retrieve her box, having to leave it on the floor to do the work. Jodi turned back to her reflection, taking in her long and pointy face, her bony shoulders, and the dark rings that circle her eyes.
God, she believes I'll spend the rest of my life here. She thought. Although Anna had probably said it out of habit, considering the rate people get married here, it brought her no comfort. Not just because she really didn't believe anyone would want to waste his time by being with her, but also because of the kind of men available here.
One of her friends, once becoming obsessed with criminology, once told her worryingly that she looked the victim type. She read somewhere that there's a fair consistence of people who become victims simply because they looked weak, like a sick animal of the herd. If I were to get married, Jodi thought pessimistically, It would probably be with a wife-beater. There seems to be an overabundance of them here. At least they look it anyway.
“You're definitely a tricky one.” Anna said, bringing Jodi out of her silent self-criticisms. Turning on her seat, she saw Anna holding a dress before her, flapping it in order to loosen it.
“It's pretty rare for a girl to be so tall like you, but at least we have a mistress with the same irregular height...'tis a good thing she rarely throws her old things away.”
Jodi stared at the dress with an open mouth. Really, she hated the idea of taking any clothes from anyone else, especially when one has to consider just how many times do people here bathe at all. But there was definitely something about that dress, however, that seemed to call out for her.
It was plain, with a low but square neckline and long sleeves that probably end at the forearms, but it was the textile and color that captivated her. It was the kind of dark green that seemed to vibrate before your eyes, while the cloth was coarse, as if it was woven by grasses...or nettles. Something a peasant girl would wear of course, but Jodi still had this insane desire to covet it. It was so wonderfully...rustic.
“...I might have to tuck it around the back, but I think the hem's low enough for you. Why don't you stand up so I can see if I'm right?”
“Huh?”
Anna sighed and dropped her arms, “A questioning today and you're daydreaming already! Didn't your mother tell you to always keep a clear head?”
Jodi stiffened, just after letting out an embarrassed smile. It was a fact she'd rather forget.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, she got off her stool and reached out for the dress.
“Fine, let me put it on.”
“One moment!” Anna said, pulling the dress away from her. “Just stand still. It can't be hard for you to keep your legs straight.”
Jodi stood obediently as Anna laid the dress on her, perusing at the hem of the skirt. Her eyes then trailed up to the sleeves.
“Well...” Anna said, pulling the dress away once more. “It's still too wide though. You'd look like a child wearing a dress of her mother's, but I'm afraid we'll have to contend with what we have. Put this on while I get my needle and thread.”
She went back to her box, which she had left on top of the harpsichord this time. She had to give Jodi a lesson in music to know the differences between a harpsichord and a piano. It was pretty fun, actually. Jodi had willed away the thought of her fate as she had walked her fingers across the keys, fascinated by the sounds that she had never heard before.
Sighing, she turned away, unbuttoning the fastenings that held the back of the gown, and then pulled it over her head.
As it fell, she felt its sleeves become wider than she expected, and the triangular waist took on a more rectangular form once it was on her. As for the neckline, it hung awkwardly as well, her having barely a bosom to keep it at its place. She furrowed her brow at the terrible presentation she had made of herself, she heard Anna cluck disapprovingly as she approached her.
“A good thing we have plenty of time.” Anna commented.
Jodi sighed again, this time more heavily.
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It took them fifteen minutes or more for the dress to finally fit her form, all the while as Anna was rapidly going over her instructions. Jodi tried to get her mind to register all of them, but the stress of the questioning was so intense, she was feeling nauseous and light-headed already.
“'Tis a good thing we could stop the interrogation before it was too late.” Anna mumbled under her breath. She had been saying it several times now. Listening to her as she paced restlessly about the room, Jodi imagined she must have been doing that for constant relief. Obviously she as as nervous as she was, restless too. The slave woman circled around the room like a busy bee, smoothing out the sheets she had already touched, moving the frames upon the wall, brushing off dust...
Her stomach was a tight fist when she heard someone knocking on the doors. Anna said something, but she didn't hear her. She already dashed for it,tearing open the doors in her wake.
Finally!
She wanted to scream it out, so tense was she that she felt ready to snap, as if a tantrum-prone child had suddenly possessed her. But it was the sight of the Wimund woman, along with the other men she had recognized, that thankfully imploded the spontaneous emotion.
“Hello!” She shot out, but then quickly added it with a smile. She knew she must have looked hysterical rather than good-natured, and that probably ruined the first impressions, showing her fear.
She made a show of looking funny and embarrassed, just as she had seen in many movies.
“Oh! Where are my manners?” She asked herself aloud, quickly stepping to the side. She motioned them inside as gracefully as she could, and Mme. Wimund barreled through, white-faced and tight-lipped. The men, two there were, followed more cautiously. She caught the gaze of the man with the unusual glasses, and quickly looked down. It was then did she see that her extended hand was trembling uncontrollably.
It was Anna that dared to step in front of the gigantic woman, shoulders hunched in a submissive posture.
“Madame?” She asked concernedly.
“The Sick Bay.” The woman hissed through gritted teeth, “I need you there. Now.”
Anna looked apprehensively at Jodi, but then nodded to her mistress, murmuring something Jodi couldn't pick up. The two of them passed , unable to tear each other's gazes off of one another. Neither of them wanting to leave each other's sides, but the heavy, tense silence seemed to act as a wall between them.
Jodi closed her eyes, breaking off her gaze to look down at the floor. Anna exited the stage. She's on her own.
“So!” Mme. Wimund began, whirling around to face her, “I see you are now bedecked as appropriate. Are you ready to join us nonetheless?”
“Aye.” Jodi replied. She couldn't even see her bare feet under the layer of her new dress. She didn't know where they were going, and the thought of having to go through the filth and mud again made her frown even deeper.
“I don't have any shoes.” She said.
“What?” Mme. Wimund asked, her usual bombastic tone flaring within the room, “Speak up I can't hear you!”
Jodi's eyes rolled up to the door frame, “I just need shoes!” She said irritably.
“There are clogs behind the house.” Mme. Wimund answered. “Is it not obvious that anything you need is providable here?”
Jodi cringed under her sharper tone, feeling both stupid and guilty for demanding for shoes when she herself has no right to do so.
“'Course, of course.” She said, nodding, her gaze back down on the floor, “Can we—may we—uh, be on our leave now?” She attempted.
Mme. Wimund turned to the two male witnesses at her sides.
“Gentlemen?” She asked.
The one she recognized wearing the glasses spoke, “I definitely agree we should get this done as soon as possible.”
Jodi rubbed her arms, feeling suddenly cold in the room. The other, another man she cannot name for all she cared to, agreed with that decision. After all, we still have to lay out further plans for the campaign.
She flinched when Mme. Wimund clapped her hands together in decision.
“Fine then.” She said, “Let us be on our way. Miss Keese, will you please follow us?”
Jodi turned to her and nodded, trying to keep the corners of her lips up.
“Yes, Madame.”
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It looked more like an assembly than a mere questioning. The pit of her stomach sunk to an extra level when she saw the large body of men present; some decorated much like the nobles she had encountered last night, while some others were a little or more worse for wear; injured or crippled obviously by battle. It took Jodi a quick look to realize that she was staring at a complete hierarchy of leaders of this camp, all of them standing around in a chaotic muddle depending on which group they preferred, mostly amongst men similar in looks to themselves.
“Keep up, Johanna! This is not an occasion of leisure!”
Jodi took a deep breath and followed Mme. Wimund, feeling many pairs of eyes boring against her. There were no women here except her and Mme. Wimund, and she knew that everyone knew from a glance who she was, and why she was here. Watching the back of the alleged sponsor of this whole campaign, whatever it may be, she realized that her way of walking was awkwardly different than Mme. Wimund's. Jodi's strides were much more masculine in terms of stride, and the way she swung her arms to and fro as she walked. Somehow that discovery made her smile. Quickly, she tried to suppress it, and threw her head back as she walked with a more rebellious pride.
The older woman led her through the crowd, which parted as soon as each man noticed her appearance, revealing a strange clearing, with chairs and old pews around it. Several servants, and slaves, Jodi noted, were in a process of installing fold-able chairs. She took it that these were for the men who thought too highly for themselves to sit amongst their own comrades.
Mme. Wimund continued to lead her towards the clearing, and nearing it, she realized that it was not soil at all. It was a massive rectangular area lined with loose and old stone, and made from soiled and burnt timber.
Jodi stared at the area, mesmerized.
“You'll stand here until otherwise instructed.” Mme. Wimund said, her tone as grave as the serious look in her eye. It was then did she watch the departing form of Mme. Wimund, walking off to rally up everyone for attention perhaps, did she see how slightly uphill the surrounding earth was around this interesting feature. Her eyes widened as she realized, she had been placed here like an exhibition.
They are going to watch her every move, and listen to every word that will pop out of her mouth.
Oh god...
Jodi felt faint again. Steadying herself by planting her hands on her hips, she lowered her head and took a deep breath. The act itself caused a lock of hair to drop over her cheek.
She knew she shouldn't have had her layers done.
Sighing, she tucked it behind her ear, and watched as her audience shouted and buzzed each other into order. Her hands began to wrung themselves nervously.
Here it comes... She thought in anticipation.