The Inner Beast

What was left of the good china was set upon the table, fresh brown bread was in the basket, the stew she left on the fire so it wouldn’t get cold, she’d found a dusty bottle of brandy, and now Cloella sat by the window, waiting, for four hours. If not for the white snow on the ground, all would have been black, for it was well after midnight. Where was the Hessian?

Her mind wandered back to Baltus Van Tassel’s words, what if the Hessian had been captured, or worse yet, killed? What if Baltus had not believed her story about the beggar, after all? What if his gunshot wound was not as healed as the Hessian had said it was, and he’d passed out somewhere in the snow from blood loss? Or, what if he’d just decided he could not be saddled with a woman? Cloella quickly dismissed the last thought; the Hessian loved her, she knew it. And Baltus didn’t know anything but what she told him. Oh, why didn’t the Hessian just show himself?

Staring out into the darkness had made her eyes want to close, for sleep beckoned her, but she fought it. At least, she thought she had until faint noises woke her up. Were those really hoof beats? For she was so sure she’d heard the sound of a horse several times tonight. She held her breath again, and listened. Yes! There was definitely a horse close by, but wait; there was more than just one horse. No! It couldn’t be someone other than the Hessian, not again! What was happening? Could Baltus have sent the magistrates to investigate the footprints and her story? Cloella couldn’t breath; she was paralyzed with fear. The sounds of the two horses grew closer and closer. She dropped down to her knees on the floor, hiding, wishing she hadn’t lit a candle in every window of the house, she would have preferred these new visitors had reason to think the property was abandoned. The horses had stopped at the front gate; what was she to do?

She could hear noises as someone dismounted and the snow crunched beneath their feet. Whoever was here was very heavy, very large; and that’s when Cloella breathed an elated sigh of relief. She got back to her feet, peering out the window at an immense black shape against the night, crouching down in the snow, examining something. Beside him stood Daredevil, and beside Daredevil stood a smaller lighter colored horse. Without a moment to even think why the Hessian was crouched down, and why he had another horse with him, Cloella burst out of the door, running towards him with her heart pounding joyfully. She couldn’t wait to hold him in her arms.

“I was so worried!” She nearly squealed in her excitement as she neared him. She marveled at how even when crouched over, the Hessian was still nearly as tall as an ordinary man.

He was still bent over, looking at the ground, and when he turned to her, his expression was neither joyful, nor loving. “Who has been here?” He demanded in a growling hiss with sharp and piercing eyes.

Cloella stopped suddenly, his tone and appearance catching her off guard. “What?” She asked, but not because she didn’t know what he meant, for she knew he’d obviously seen Baltus’s footprints.

“I did not stutter, nor stammer!” He glared at her, his ice blue eyes freezing her. “I lived in total darkness for eight years, and I therefore see twice as well as anyone else on the blackest of nights. There are tracks in the snow too small to be my own and yet too large to be yours!” The tone of his voice was monstrous. “Who has been here?” His growl turned to thunder, and for a moment, Cloella thought she did see his eyes glow an eerie green.

She did owe him an explanation, and she understood his concerns. She shook off the chill of that horrible beast-like stare he’d perfected and took a deep breath. “Baltus Van Tassel.”

The Hessian slowly and powerfully rose to his full lofty height, putting his hand to the hilt of his rapier. “Baltus Van Tassel,” he repeated, his voice a bit more mellow. “Who is he and where does he live?”

“He’s a long time family friend from the village. He came to—“ but she stopped explaining as the cold reality hit her. Why would the Hessian ask where Baltus lived? What good was that information to him? His big hand was still on his rapier; the Hessian needed to know where to find Baltus in order to protect the secret; and that would entail… “No!” Cloella screamed, jumping in front of him and ripping his mighty hand from the hilt of his sword. She had taken care of Baltus; there was no reason for him to die, now.

“Do not cross me!” He warned in an awful beast like roar. “You know very well what I must do!” He brushed passed her, drawing his sword and walking swiftly towards Daredevil.

Cloella wished that it did not take five of her strides to match one of his, for it was difficult to catch up to him. She walked so swiftly she began to stumble, so she reached out and grabbed the hem of his cape, trying to drag herself closer to him. If he were just two inches taller, the Hessian would have been seven feet tall; she felt like a small dog nipping at the heels of an irate bear. “No! Hessian, please!” But he didn’t acknowledge her and put his big foot into the stirrup. What could she say to stop him? Or at the very least, what could she say to distract him enough so that she could try to talk to him? She frantically searched for something, all the while envisioning dear, kind Baltus, and his sweet good lady wife being swiftly beheaded. She couldn’t let him slaughter another innocent family. Yes, that was it! “No! I will not let this be another Desenberg!” But she quickly wished she hadn’t said that, she’d chosen her words thoughtlessly.

The Hessian’s foot slipped from the stirrup, and he abruptly turned on his heel to face her, every pointed tooth bared and his blue eyes shining hideously. “What!” How could she have said that? How could she have used that word; that name, that incident, against him? Didn’t she understand that he wasn’t going after the poor fool who had made the footprints out of some sort of sport? He was protecting himself, he was protecting what he shared and treasured with her. Yet, if she would dare to be so cruel as to cut him with the name of Desenberg, was it even worth it?

Whether it was because he’d turned to face her so sharply or just the force and impact of his voice that knocked her into the snow Cloella wasn’t sure. But now, she lay at his immense feet on her back, supported by her elbows and looking up at his towering height and menacing teeth, wishing she could take back the name she’d chosen as the distraction. God, she wished she could just burrow beneath the snow and escape that glower. “I am so very sorry!” Her body shook with how sorry she was.

The Hessian turned away from her again, resting his strong arms on his saddle, his head drooping downwards. “Why did you say that? That, of all things?” His voice was softer now, and he couldn’t hide the hurt and sadness in his tone.

Cloella wanted to cry. She’d looked forward to nothing else all week but seeing him again, but his homecoming had become a traumatic event. Cautiously, she got to her feet, wondering if she should try to comfort him with a touch; would he welcome it, or pull away, or worse? She drew in a deep breath, this had not been his fault, but it had not been entirely hers either. She reached out with a shaking hand and pressed it to the middle of his broad back. He arched his back as if in pain, or maybe just surprise. “I did not mean to be callous. I only meant to settle your tirade,” she wiped a tear from her eye and stepped a bit closer to him. He didn’t move at all. “Please believe that I am sorry! Sorry for saying that, and more so for hurting you, and betraying that confidence! I didn’t think before I spoke! I am horrible! I love you! Please believe that!” There were too many tears to try and wipe away now, her body shuddered with her sobs. Still, he didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. “Oh God, Hessian, please believe that I am sorry, and that I love you!” She slowly sank to her knees into the snow, doubled over in tears.

The Hessian exhaled sharply himself and looked up at the night sky. This isn’t how he’d wanted to return to her. Nor did he want to execute someone the girl had described as a “family friend”, or repeat his murderous deeds at Desenberg, for many whom he killed there had been innocents. Still, he had not wanted to take any chances with the secret he and the girl shared. The name Desenberg would forever haunt him, but that was not her fault. Desenberg was both a spur and a brake, and, if he had been her, and he knew that a family friend was only moments from death, what would he have said to stop their killer? If the girl would go this far to protect the life of this Van Tassel, then the great Hessian monster should at least let her explain why. The girl was not daft, he knew that, and if she felt that Van Tassel was not a threat to either of them, he would trust her intuition. She hadn’t meant to torture his heart with the name of Desenberg; she’d only meant to get his attention. The girl did love him; he didn’t doubt that. He turned around slowly, looking down at her and having to clear the lump from his throat before he could speak, and when he did, his voice was almost a whisper. “You betrayed nothing.”

Cloella looked up with startled eyes. He’d spoken to her! “I’ll never say—“ but before she could finish, he came crashing down beside her in the snow, wrapping his huge arms around her and kissing her with great emotional need and fervor. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, hugging him as if she could press herself inside his chest, and stay there forever. Yes! He still loved her!

The Hessian drew back from their kiss, resting his forehead to hers and staring into her tear stained eyes. The girl had a good soul, and he loved her because of that. If she’d said that word to stop him, then she had a reason. He wanted to know what it was, to show her that he trusted her, but for now, he smoothed her hair and wiped away her tears. He’d missed her horribly in the past week. The thrill of battle had been as exhilarating as ever, he’d fought with such expertise, took many heads, created many new legends of himself, but it was no longer simple to be content in falling asleep on the cold hard ground, or leaning up against the rough bark of a tree. He’d wanted the girl so badly he’d dreamed of her every night, but rarely was the dream erotically satisfying. Mostly he dreamed that she was laying next to him on the featherbed, and that his arms were around her, and her head was nestled against his shoulder, her eyelashes fluttering against his chest. God, how he’d just wanted to wrap his arms around her and smell her sweet vanilla and cinnamon scent and feel her satiny skin each night when he tried to sleep. And now, he was with her again, but he’d only managed to create turmoil, instead of the love and affection he had so desperately wanted to give her. He had to clear his throat again before speaking. “Van Tassel, he is your friend?”

Cloella was still buried in the depths of feelings that the Hessian obviously had for her. She thought for sure she’d hurt him too badly for him to still want her; but no, he loved her! She took a deep breath, wiping another tear that fell this time out of joy. “Baltus Van Tassel and his wife are the only people in the village who do not think I am a witch. Baltus was once my father’s partner, and has always been like a second father to me. When my mother died, and I had no money, he paid the funeral expenses, and when I was accused of witchcraft, and isolated by all of Sleepy Hollow, Baltus risked his life and reputation to bring me food and supplies so that I could live.” Her voice grew steadier as she realized that the Hessian was listening very intently to her. Her hopes were high that he understood why she had said what she did. “Baltus still thinks of me as a little child, he tries to protect me, he offers me shelter, which I always decline. That is why he came here earlier today, to bring me food, and make sure I was safe. He never asked about your footprints, but I thought it wise to tell him they were the tracks made by an army deserter, who had come by to beg table scraps, just before a thaw that melted his footprints into such large and deep shapes. Baltus never questioned it. He knows nothing. I wouldn’t have let him leave this place if he did!”

The Hessian sighed in relief, pulled her against him, wrapped his thick arms around her and kissed her on the top of her head. “You are a very smart girl,” he whispered. “And perhaps I owe this Van Tassel a word of gratitude for seeing to your needs in my absence.”

Cloella smiled, laughed a bit. “Baltus only comes around every few months, and you have only just arrived in my life. You cannot blame yourself for being absent when you had no place to arrive at!”

He chuckled and squeezed her against his body, kissing her head again. “Let us begin again, shall we? This was not how I had planned to woo you into my arms.”

“Agreed upon!” Cloella smiled as the Hessian got to his feet and offered her his big hand. “I have missed you in so many ways!”

“Likewise, in fact, double the amount.” He smiled at her, pulling off his black glove and stroking her cheek. Their eyes locked, and he felt as if he were looking at her for the first time, in a way. She wouldn’t have let Van Tassel, her friend, leave this place if she thought he suspected something. Yes, the girl loved the Hessian!

Just then the second horse the Hessian had brought with him pawed the snow and bellowed and equine yawn. They both looked towards the horse, and Cloella now noticed that a large stag was draped over the saddle. “What is all this?”

The Hessian smiled again, taking the gray horse by the reins and leading him up closer to the girl, then placing the reins in her hand. “He was standing alone on the artillery field after the battle. When I saw him all I could think of was your beloved mare, Dragonfly.”

“Dragonfly? You remembered?” Cloella was breathless with shock and sentiment. The horse, while not as large as a Percheron, was the same gray color, and his head was shaped much the same way.

“And how could I forget anything of you?” The Hessian asked, gathering her into his arms, her back to his chest. He was still filled with the thought of how much the girl loved him, for no one had loved him, as much as she obviously did, before.

She turned her head and looked up at him, she would never have dreamed a man could be so enamored of her, and that the Hessian was that man made her feel more blessed than she ever would have imagined anyone could be. “I don’t know what to say, you amaze me, you do things I do not think possible of anyone.”

He smiled again, took her wrist in his hand and pressed her palm to the gray horse’s neck and smoothed it over his coat with his hand. He cherished her words, but he’d already been washed by too many emotions in this brief time period to let her go on complementing him and successfully keep down that lump in his throat. “He may look a bit scruffy now in winter, but I think that come summer he will dapple out nicely.”

Cloella laughed a little, knowing he was changing the subject on purpose, but that was fine. “He’s beautiful now! Thank you!” She stood up on her toes, prompting him to lean down to her and she kissed him. “And did you find him also with a deer over his back?” She giggled.

“Nein,” the Hessian laughed. “Like your friend, Van Tassel, I too was thinking of your survival. That is what kept me so long in returning, I had to follow this stag for nearly two miles before I was able to get off a good shot with the pistol.”

“A pistol? You hunt with a pistol?” Cloella was surprised, as muskets were far more accurate weapons for hunting.

“I have not hunted in ages, that is, I have not hunted deer in ages.” He said. “The darkness made it a bit more of a challenge as well. Please forgive me for arriving so late.”

Cloella was more than impressed. “I have never known anyone who could bring down a deer, with a pistol, in the dark!”

The Hessian had walked over to the carcass and hoisted it over his broad shoulder. “You forget,” he grinned. “I see very well in the dark!”

She smiled, for he sounded almost cocky. “I will see to the horses if you can butcher the deer. I have spent all day making a vegetable stew for supper, but a few cubes of venison will serve it very well.”

“Ahh,” the Hessian groaned as he dropped the deer into the snow, for he was hungry. “You amaze me!” He smiled, and pulled her to him once more. “And it is good to be back with you once again! But then, part of me never truly leaves you!”