The Inner Beast

Cloella stood in front of the gray horse the Hessian had brought to her, holding the reins with her arm outstretched, backed away from the nearly white animal in an effort to incorporate all of his form into her view. The horse chewed the bit and shook his head, dug in the snow with his grayish black hoof and then looked over towards Daredevil who stood still as the Hessian cinched up his girth.

“What are you doing?” The Hessian asked, taking notice of the girl’s stance in front of the horse when Daredevil turned his head to nibble the gray’s withers in a gesture of equine friendliness.

“Trying to decide what his name shall be.” Cloella answered. “Sometimes, if you listen carefully enough, they’ll tell you.” She smiled at the Hessian, for she was very unsure of how he would react to her wishing to give the horse a name. She’d wished the Hessian would let her call him by his given name of Heinrich, for having to call her lover ‘Hessian’ all the time made her feel as horrible and silly as the people who believed his eyes glowed green.

“Gypsum.” The Hessian said without any hesitation, or even thought, as though it seemed obvious.

“Why do you say that?” Cloella asked, a bit surprised that the Hessian would and could just come up with a name so effortlessly, particularly when he had such a crisis with the very concept of names.

The Hessian shrugged his shoulders, striding over and picking up the other saddle and laying it over the back of the gray horse. “Look at his color, not gray, not white, a bit dusty in hue. What else could his name be besides Gypsum?” He reached under the gray horse’s belly and caught the girth, pulling it up to fasten it. “Besides, he told me.” The Hessian said, as mundanely as he could have asked her to pass the salt at the table.

Cloella cocked her head, she stopped herself from being amazed, for the Hessian may have been a man out of legend, but he couldn’t really talk to horses, could he? Yes, she herself had made a remark about listening closely to a horse to find out its name, but she hadn’t been serious, it wasn’t possible, was it? However, the Hessian did have a special relationship with horses, maybe he could—no, what a silly notion! “He did no such a thing! How could he say that, Hessian? How?”

“Am I thus to understand that he told you his name was something different?” Asked the Hessian, going about shortening the stirrups appropriate to the girl’s height. He enjoyed the way she let herself get so flustered by the silly things he said or did, the look in her deep blue eyes when he tortured her with trivial absurdities was priceless.

“What?” She almost shouted, for the Hessian really seemed to be believing he could talk to horses, even if she didn’t. “Of course not! He hasn’t said a word to me!” She couldn’t help huffing and looking down, holding the reins in both her clenched fists.

The Hessian couldn’t help laughing at the sight of her. “Perhaps he does not like you, then.” He shrugged.

“Antagonist!” Cloella cried out, half in frustration, yet half in cheer. She wondered if the Hessian had always had such a playful and teasing nature, or if it were something that had developed when he’d let himself love her. How could he really be what everyone called the ‘Black Devil’?

The Hessian groaned mockingly, looking up to the winter sky. “Oh, she calls me yet another name ending with ‘ist’. And all because she is angry that a horse will not speak to her!” He looked at her and laughed. He’d actually rather enjoyed it when she’d called him an egotist two nights ago.

Again, Cloella rolled her eyes and sighed the same way she did whenever her Hessian’s self esteem crept higher than his great height. “You are fortunate that is all I call you!” She said with sharp eyes, but her mouth couldn’t fight the urge to smile.

“Am I?” The Hessian smirked. “I am intrigued! What, exactly, am I fortunate enough to have you not call me? And I warn you, I know more than one hundred words in Deutsche, English, French, Russian, Persian and even Swahili that could scorch both your ears and mouth!”

‘Heinrich’, Cloella thought to herself, but she dare not say that name, not now anyway, but perhaps this was the opening she needed to hint that she wished to call him something a bit more intimate than ‘Hessian’. For now, she walked up to him confidently, standing up straight and looking up at him with narrowed eyes and devilish glee. “I too know a few mean words in German, Hessian! As a child, my school master was a German!”

“And what did he teach you?” Asked the Hessian, a dry smile on his face, again loving how fiery the girl could be. “Come on, out with it!”

It was then that Cloella realized that the words she’d learned from Herr Brummel only appropriately irritated her brothers when they were children. Still, the Hessian waited to be insulted, she’d talked her abilities up, there was no turning back now, no matter how silly what she was about to say would sound. “Du bist ein hellblauer fischkopf!” She said it with an awful amount of venom, for maybe the Hessian would notice her tone of voice only, and not the words themselves that way, she had hoped. It didn’t work.

The Hessian burst out laughing, almost dropping to his knees in the snow. “Was ist das?” He asked breathlessly. “Those are the meanest words you can conjure? Do you even know what you’ve said?”

Cloella could feel her face blush bright scarlet, now she was embarrassed. Why had she even tried to best the Hessian beast with foul language? “Yes, I do.” She sighed, wishing he hadn’t enjoyed what she’d said so much.

The Hessian was still laughing. “The very worst, the most extreme, thing you can call me is a ‘light blue fish head’?” He had tried to stop laughing so that he could talk, but he only began chortling again. “While I am not affronted, I can say that I do not wish to known as Herr Hellblauer Fischkopf!”

Cloella began to laugh too now at the thought of calling the Hessian Mr. Light Blue Fish Head instead of Hessian. It was no longer worth pursuing her request to call him his given name, for it was likely to ruin his good disposition. Still, she wished she’d known how to spit something wicked at him, just to show him. “I cannot help it, I have not been as many places as you, Hessian.” She sighed, and looked down at the ground, poutiness mixing with her smile.

“Oh do not feel badly!” The Hessian smiled, tipping her head back up again. “For you were at least very descriptive, I like that. I am not a blue fish head, nor a dark blue fish head, but a light blue fish head!” And he began to laugh again. “You do say such odd things at times, girl! And they call me demented?”

Cloella shook her head, tempted to kick him in the shin, but she didn’t. “Well, if you are so terribly let down by my abilities to curse, perhaps you could teach me!”

The Hessian still smirked, but stopped laughing, putting his arm around her and drawing her close. “Nein, it is not my place to teach you to say sinful things; it is my place to do sinful things to you!” He tipped her backwards, bracing her back with his strong arm, leaned over her and kissed her, his other hand squeezing her breast.

Cloella melted, wrapping her arms around him, and feeling like he’d set her up on her feet again and pulled away much too soon. She had been looking forward to going riding with him, she hadn’t gotten the chance to ride the horse he’d brought her yet, so perhaps ending the kiss there was best, she figured. She smiled. “Tonight then!”

“If you can wait that long.” The Hessian still smirked, and held his hand down by her knee. “May I give you a leg up into the saddle?”

Cloella gathered her skirts between her knees, she had been impressed that the Hessian did not drag the sidesaddle from the barn for her to use, but instead brought out a standard English saddle. “Please.” She smiled at him, and turned towards the gray horse, grabbing a bunch of his mane and allowing the Hessian to lift her up with his hand supporting her knee. She swung her leg over the gray’s back, settling herself upright in the saddle, with the Hessian quickly crossing to the other side of her horse to gentlemanly hold her other stirrup still and place her foot into it.

“Comfortable?” He asked, having to look up at her now, but not by much.

“Yes, very!” She smiled, for it had been so long since she’d ridden. Now that she was in the saddle, she realized how much she’d been looking forward to this. “Gypsum,” she sighed happily, patting her horse on the neck.

“You see?” Asked the Hessian as he swung up onto Daredevil’s strong back. “I told you!” He smiled.

They rode through the trees, Cloella feeling a bit blessed that everyone thought she was a witch that had cursed the Western Woods, for it gave her and her Hessian miles to ride through undetected by any villagers gathering firewood or hunting, or even coming to visit her. Gypsum had proven himself a bit of a handful, more than she would have bargained for by looking at him, and he refused to follow behind Daredevil and the Hessian quietly. The Hessian had halted Daredevil, instructing her to bring Gypsum up beside him, and they continued on their way with both horses walking side by side. Gypsum however still wished to be slightly in the lead, and he clamped his teeth down on the bit in his mouth, stretching his neck out, head in the air and stopped dead, despite Cloella’s kicking and clicking to him. She pulled the reins until her hands were in her lap, but Gypsum only pulled harder in the opposite direction, his nose almost touching the branch of a tree.

“Do not fight with him, he’s stronger than you, respect that.” The Hessian said calmly, waiting beside her and sitting back in his saddle, confident that the girl could learn from him. “Let him have his head, but bring your hands down onto his neck, in front of his withers and apply gentle pressure.” He said, overlooking her entire form. “And keep those heels down.” He added, at the risk of sounding a bit critical.

“Oh come on, Gypsum, enough of your tantrums.” Cloella sighed, wishing her horse would not embarrass her in front of the Hessian, but at the same time glad the Hessian was there to help her. She placed her hands where the Hessian had instructed on Gypsum’s neck, pushing lightly, and to her amazement, the gray horse’s neck instantly arched, he brought his head close to his chest and released the bit from his teeth, walking onward when she squeezed her legs. Cloella smiled, patting Gypsum’s neck as the Hessian and Daredevil caught up to her with a few steps. “How did you know that would work?” She asked, again amazed by the Hessian.

“It’s an old Cossacks’ trick.” He smiled; the look of admiration in her eyes out matched the look of frustration that was present when he teased her. “Horses have a very sensitive nerve right there where I told you to put your hands.”

“You were a Cossack too?” Cloella gasped.

“Ja, I was stationed along the banks of the Dnieper River in Russia two years prior to coming to these colonies to fight.” The Hessian answered, thinking again how he’d never told anyone this. “Russia is where I found all the knowledge I thought I’d gained about horses and riding was very scant when compared with what there was still to learn.”

“You have truly had an astounding life, Hessian!” Cloella smiled. “You have been so many things, been to so many places… I can never guess what you will say to me next! Or for that matter, why you even bother with the likes of me, who has been no where, and has done nothing.”

The Hessian shook his head, reaching over and taking hold of the girl’s reins and halting both Daredevil and Gypsum. “Do you know what I would do to someone who said such a thing about you?” His ice blue eyes flashed cold and iniquitous for a moment, but then settled again as the girl looked up into them.

“I do not think I would want to know.” Cloella answered a bit startled, but then the reality of what he was saying hit her, and she felt a burst of emotion that threatened to roll tears down her cheeks, but she blinked her eyes until the tears were gone.

“I have traveled many places and done many things because I have needed to in order to become who I am. But you,” he paused; pulling off his black glove and stroking her head and face lightly. “You do not need anything to be who you are. You just are. You are one of the world’s last pure souls, a gleam of mythical light and eyes that would be blind if not for the existence of your heart…that is why I love you!”

Cloella leaned her head into his hand, closing her eyes, one little tear, followed by another, seeping out and running onto his thumb. Somehow, when men were courting her, she never felt any real connection with any of them, for none of them seemed to be capable of the kind of love she somehow felt was real. Her mother had often spoke of how she’d know when she found “the right man”, and Cloella had been disappointed with her many suitors, for none of them were “the right man”. Perhaps, she’d been holding out, waiting, ever faithful that the Hessian would come into her life the entire time. “You really do mean that, don’t you?” She could barely talk for the lump his words had raised in her throat.

The Hessian wiped away her tears quickly; he hated to see her crying, for any reason. He must somehow make her smile again. “Nein, I say that to all the maidens who collect me wounded and bloody from battle, nurse me back to health and then believe it when I tell them that the bed is very cold, and so won’t they please come in and warm it up for me.” He smirked.

Cloella balled up her fist and hit him playfully in the arm. “That is not what happened between us!” She laughed.

“Nein, but it is a card I nearly played.” The Hessian admitted with a raised eyebrow. “Now stop crying before your face freezes.” He smiled, brushing away one remaining tear at the corner of her eye.

“I doubt you would have done so.” Cloella said as their horses again began to walk.

“You do?” The Hessian asked with amused curiosity. “And why is that? I may not be a lowly soldier, but my lechery is still as base as that of a lowly soldier’s.” He smiled.

Cloella laughed. “While that is most certainly true, you also possess a certain gallantry that I have never known any other man to even fathom.”

“I do?” The Hessian asked in surprise, for no one ever used words like ‘gallant’ to describe him.

“Yes, you do!” Cloella giggled, happy that he’d seemed so bowled over. “You remind me of something from the age of Chivalry, like one of King Arthur’s Knights of the Roundtable! Gallant, brave, a fierce warrior, sometimes terrifying, but strong of heart, full of courage, true to your own sense of virtue, and still ever constant to your lady’s needs and desires, and skilled in courtly manners!” She smiled. “And that, Hessian, is why I love you!”

The smile on his face was barely detectable and the Hessian was quieted by her words. Cloella’s smile broadened as she thought how ironic it was that when she gave the Hessian reason to puff out his chest and be smug, he grew so silent and almost shy, yet never hesitated to applaud himself for some silly or lesser incentive. “You do me such undeserved justice.” He said, his voice low and his eyes only able to hold hers for a brief moment before he had to look downwards.

“Indeed I do not.” Cloella whispered to him, reaching over and touching his big hand lovingly, but she knew the Hessian would only change the subject soon as the only thing that seemed to break him down were her compliments. She decided she would rescue him this time. “Now come on, I’ll race you to the tree that everyone swears is the gateway to hell!” And before he could even ready Daredevil, she’d spurred Gypsum into a gallop and tore off over a hill, leaving the Hessian to catch up to her again.

He smiled, urging Daredevil onwards into a gallop, glad not only that the girl was so lively, but also that she knew how and when to break his awkward silences. Daredevil being taller than Gypsum by at least four hands easily over took the gray horse, and he and the Hessian galloped until they reached the end of the path they were on, standing now about fifty some feet away from a massive and twisted old dead tree, its root system having pushed it up onto a kind of naturally occurring pedestal. Daredevil whinnied and tossed his head, backing up a few more steps as the Hessian stared at the tree, somehow understanding his horse’s desire to back away from it.

“That tree does possess a kind of beauty, but I still don’t like to be any closer to it than this.” Cloella said as she and Gypsum came up beside the Hessian and Daredevil.

The Hessian had been paying such close attention to the haunting tree he hadn’t even noticed the footsteps of Gypsum. He turned to the girl, trying to look unimpressed, but there was something about this tree the Hessian did not like, even from fifty to sixty feet away; he just didn’t understand why. “The gateway to hell?” He asked.

Cloella shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. The townspeople all call it ‘The Tree of the Dead’. I’ve never felt frightened around that tree, but it has always filled me with immense sorrow. I don’t know why.”

“Why have you brought us to a place that makes you so sad?” The Hessian asked, for he could already see her humor beginning to change in her eyes. “Let us go, it will be dark soon, and I will not have you out in the cold night.” He didn’t need to persuade Daredevil to turn, and Gypsum seemed eager to follow him too.

“I am sorry, it was ridiculous of me to come here.” Cloella said as she and the Hessian rode away back down the path. “I’ve always been drawn here, despite how mournful it makes me feel.”

“I understand, we all have our fits of melancholy.” The Hessian said as he reached across and took her hand, the horses happy to be walking homeward again. “I too have my share of ghosts.”

Cloella smiled, thinking how silly she was, as she did each time she found herself looking at that tree and feeling tears rolling down her face. “I think I let myself get too caught up in legends.”

The Hessian smiled again too, raising her hand to his lips and kissing it. “Well, you have let yourself be caught up in my legend!” He laughed as they rode further and further away from the huge dead tree, but still, something made him look over his broad shoulder at it, making him feel he should never trust his back to that tree.