One Big Mistake

Jodi didn’t know what lay ahead of her as she stepped into the second floor, leaving a trail of filthy footprints in her wake. She could still feel the stuff between her toes, grimacing as she continued the move. It was quite strange to her, she had always been an out-doors kind of child, but she almost never wore shoes then. The feeling of sand, soil, or any of the like used to feel like home to her, but now…
Jodi smiled ironically, what a few years can do to change a person, she thought. She frowned, mentally shaking her nostalgic musings out of her head. Focus girl, she told herself, she’d better keep a clear head for now, this day is still far from over.
The man with the glasses led her through the spacious hallway, past several solid and unyielding doors, until he finally approached the only open doorway, where it was well lit by candlelight.
She turned towards it, a polite smile placed firmly on her face, expectant that the sponsor mentioned from before would be reclining there inside, waiting for her to be introduced.
A sudden force shoved her inside, causing her to stumble into the room and into the light.
The pain on her bare foot flared as she tripped on her feet, trying to keep her balance without falling. Her naked foot had been bent irregularly, but after a few seconds she was finally able to stand.
It was then did that oily, sick feeling wormed itself back inside of her. The feeling of fear.
“What’s going on?!” She cried, whipping her head around. She was in a very large room; it had a bed and a small fireplace, equipped with a large desk stacked with books and papers. The small, rotund man sat behind it.
He raised his eyebrows at her, his hands clasped before him.
“Nothing much, ducky. We just…hadn’t introduced ourselves properly.” He said, smiling slightly as he harked back to her very own words. Suddenly his face switched into dark frown.
“Sit her down.”
Jodi gasped as several hands grabbed hold of her. She had been oblivious of the other men in the room, but didn’t look at them as they roughly plunked her onto a chair, facing him and the desk. Calm and composed, the small man reached for a quill that sat in its inkwell, dipping it several times, and placed it upon the paper. Jodi stared at him mutely, limbs stiff with fright and uncertainty. What are they going to do with her now?
Somehow Jodi couldn’t bring herself to believe all this. Even though she knew they’d very likely be abusive slavers or opportunistic exploiters, she just couldn’t bring herself to think that they were going to interrogate her, a member of a weaker sex they had so often patronized and protected.
“Name?” He asked, his voice quiet but demanding.
Jodi struggled, trying to get her brain and throat to work. Should she use her own, a very modern and working-classy name? Something so foreign to them, that they may mistake her as a potential enemy? What of her surname? Will it mean something to them in the wrong way?
“Your name?”
She swallowed, her hands twisting under her uncomfortable bonds. Think, her mind cried, think! Something beginning with a J, there’s plenty to choose from!
The man sighed. He looked to one of the nobles that held her in place, and indicated his right hand.
Jodi looked up when the effeminate man stepped in front of her. He pursed his red lips at her, and then slapped her across the face.
“Johanna!”
“Pardon?”
The womanly noble stepped aside, allowing the leader to stare at her. “What was that again?” He asked, smiling.
“M-my name’s Johanna.” She answered, screwing her eyes shut against the pain that throbbed on the side of her face. She didn’t know where the idea came from, but she now wished it came sooner.
“Is that so?”
“Friends call me Jo…” She admitted. She still wouldn’t look at him; she wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and sink into oblivion. In a twisted way, she was somehow glad that they’ve only slapped her. She didn’t know what they had in mind, but somehow the thought of thumbscrews got into hers. It revolted her.
“Friends as you mean, fellow conspirators?”
“What?” She opened one eye, staring at the leader in confusion.
He smirked, “Oh, I’m sorry. You people prefer to call each other brothers in arms, hm?”
Not this again! She thought, “Look, I know what you’re talking about, but listen, I’m--”
She was suddenly cut short with another slap in the face. This time she flinched before the blow was landed, making him reach for her face and slap it again. She cried out.
“NO! I’M NOT A REBEL!”
“Please be more direct, miss Johanna.” The leader said tiredly, cradling his head with his hand, “We won’t stand with talking cobswabbles. Now, how are we to believe that you are not a rebel?”
Why the FUCK do you think I’m a rebel?! She wanted to shout out, but she didn’t have the nerve. She was now stuck fast with another question. How was she to convince them that she was not the enemy?
She didn’t waste time in answering.
“Because I’m not.” She said.
She flinched when her torturer moved to hit her again, but he was stopped with the arresting voice of his superior. The torture moved aside once more.
“A belief you had because of amnesia?” He asked, “I’m surprised you can still remember your name…and what your friends call you…”
This time the torturer struck her with his dry and powdered hand.
“FUCKING--” She began, twisting her body as she ground her heels against the floor. The pain was so strong her face was getting numb now, her left eye feeling ready to burst. She stopped herself from finishing her swear, not wanting to provoke anything.
A high chortle broke the tense silence between her and her interrogator, followed soon after by the snickering and guffaws of the others.
Too late.
“OH! What language!” The small man cried, clapping his hands in some twisted amusement, “Where on earth did you learn that, miss? You curse with the familiarity as that of a sailor!”
Jodi hung her head, panting. She could feel something cold dripping down from one of her nostrils, down to her swollen mouth. She could taste its salty, coppery substance.
“What’s the matter?” He asked, “Cat got your tongue?”
He chortled again; his own chair creaked at the motion of his body falling back on it.
“Speaking of which,” He said between laughs, “ I’d like to know how you obtained those teeth. Or would you like me to call for a specialist, a surgeon to pluck some out for us to analyze?”
Jodi gritted her teeth, stifling an urge to curse him and all of his toadies. She didn’t look up when she finally uttered an answer.
“They’re natural…” She said, her face burned when she grinned nervously, her face of fear, “I just brush ‘em every day. Eating all those fancy foods caused you tooth decay d-didn’t it?”
She raised her head, looking at him with glassy eyes, “That and being a SLOB.”
She drew out that last word vehemently, knowing full well that it was nowhere in the English vocabulary at this time. He stared at her hard now, his flawlessly expressed face now twisted in confusion and anger, looking like he was about to rise and jump at her.
Jodi shut her eyes again when the other man raised his hand at her.
The door slammed open, the doorknob banged against the wall, the sheer force almost made it swing back into the intruder.
The newcomer shoved it away, storming into the room. Its presence seemed to cut at the social order the men had in this room, Jodi could sense it, even though she couldn’t see it.
The intruder seemed to stop for a moment, surveying the scene for truly the first time.
“What is going on?!” Cried the intruder. Jodi’s eyes snapped open. It was a woman.
“Madame Wimund, I--”
The little man tried to explain the situation, but was cut off by the sharp tone of the Englishwoman.
“Get your hands off of that wretch!” Snapped the woman, stomping towards her. She didn’t hear her swat the men away, but they scattered as if she had. Jodi herself took the opportunity to twist in her seat, eager to see who her savior was.
She was surprised to lock eyes with the most biggest woman she had ever seen. Her limbs were as thick as her girth, with a face like a horse and severely crooked teeth that looked mean-looking. She was wearing a large, thick robe over her low-necked nightgown, lavishly patterned with lace and sewing, it did not suit her at all. It was like trying to dress a troll or a giant in a getup of what somebody like Marie Antoinette would wear, most especially with an expression of anger so strong, she almost looked barbaric.
“I REFUSE—I repeat, I REFUSE, to have a torturing in MY house!” Boomed the Wimund woman, stabbing a finger at the gaping Jodi. Her deep and bombastic voice shook the perfect composure the man had earlier, reducing him into an equally angry and red-faced individual.
“This is absolutely necessary, madame! I suggest you stay out of this and--”
“And WHAT?!” The woman shrieked, “Allow blood to be spilt within this premise? I won’t have it!”
“Madame Wimund, THIS determines the outcome of this war!” The little man shrieked this as he pounded his fist on the desk, trying to get a grip of authority in the situation. But all it did was to cause the lady Wimund throw back her head, letting out a loud and sarcastic laugh.
“What, with this simple wretch?” The woman huffed, tilting her head towards her direction. “If she were a spy, and an intelligent one, she wouldn’t be dressed like what you see here! ‘Tis much too obvious, Westmorland, don’t make me laugh!”
“Then what do you suggest we do?!” He argued, “We would have known who she is have you left us well alone!”
“That would be MY task!” Snapped Mme. Wimund. She turned around without warning, glaring down on Jodi with a pair of fiery gray eyes.
“You! What is your name?!” She demanded.
“Jo-Johanna…” Jodi stammered, cowering under her scrutinizing gaze.
“Your FULL NAME!”
“Johanna Keese!” She yelled; she then froze in horror, realizing what she had done. But her fearful expression was lost to the Wimund woman, who immediately rounded back to Westmorland.
“You see?” She demanded haughtily, “An easily intimidated creature! I’ll wager she hadn’t the will or mind to even use a musket or pass messages to the rebels!”
Westmorland looked at her as if he would like to argue with that statement, but for once he kept his mouth shut, surveying her with a look that might have killed.
Straightening her thick woolen robe, Mme Wimund stepped towards Jodi, offering her a hand. Tentatively, Jodi took it, and was lifted from her seat.
“I will see to her myself.” Mme. Wimund exclaimed, “As a host of this house, I am compelled to its management, as I am compelled to manage your supplies and the sending of reinforcements. I suggest the best you should do is to do what you were ordered to do…commander.”
************************************************************************
It was with that did the lady leave the men in the room, leading Jodi down the stairs and into the main hallway. Jodi was shocked into a quiet by the event, letting the woman drag her about with her arm as if she were child.
Up close, the woman was certainly very big; she probably came from a Scandinavian or Nordic stock, much unlike the ordinary English, which are smaller in stature in comparison.
The woman led her into a small and dusty room. It looked like a drawing room or a study, with what looked like a sofa, a piano, and a bookcase. Several paintings hung on the stone-stacked wall, but, like all of the furniture, they were covered with pale sheets, making them look like ghostly apparitions in the pale moonlight from the window.
“You will stay here.” Mme. Wimund said, “For now.” She added, glancing sideways to Jodi with a skeptical eye.
“We have much to discuss.” She continued, looking back inside the room. “If you are indeed not an enemy, I can offer you to stay here. We need as much help as we can for this campaign, so you must earn your keep with whatever skills I find from you. But all that must wait for the morrow.”
Jodi nodded, now glad that the woman had rescued her from the interrogation, but still not comfortable with the idea of more questioning. Especially when she was staying in the same house as the nobles.
Finally, Jodi had the courage to speak.
“You people are going to question me again?” She asked in a choked voice.
Mme. Wimund was silent for the moment, staring into the dark recesses of the room.
“I cannot guarantee that.” She answered matter-of-factly. “But I will try to find out who you are.”
Footsteps heading to their direction stopped their conversation. Both women turned to see the house slave walking towards them in bare feet, carrying bundles of cloth in one hand, and a small wooden bucket in the other.
“You should endeavour to sleep now.” Said Mme. Wimund, turning her attention once more towards Jodi. “Anna will wash your feet, and take those…things from you in exchange for a chemise. I will wake you in the morning for breakfast.”
Jodi sighed, she was far from tired now, not after the beating she got from the nobles. Carefully, she touched the skin of her face, wincing as she did so. It’s going to swell, she thought in bewilderment. She had never been hit like that before in her life, and now she’s going to look like a victim of domestic abuse. Fucking great.
The lady of the house walked away, disappearing down the hallway by turning round the corner. Jodi did not waste time in getting down to business. If tomorrow will be a big day, she supposed, the least she could do is at least try to get some rest.
“Right,” She declared, nodding to the slave, “I’ll…uh, start taking off this shoe...I think.”
She bent down to undo the double knot of her shoelaces, thinking guiltily of the poor slave that had to stay up to care for her. The woman probably had much to do within the morning, cooking for the people, feeding the barn animals…Jodi hoped she at least had a helping hand for all of those back-breaking chores of the day.
“There.” She said, lifting up the shoe. Her foot, moist with sweat, now felt chillingly cold in the air. She blushed in embarrassment when she noticed its obvious smell as well. She looked up, noticing that the dark woman was still looking at her face.
Jodi stared back, unsure of how to react.
It was then did the slavewoman spoke for the first time.
“You sure you’re okay?” She asked.
Jodi dropped her shoe.