Fusillade
That long day for Josephine only gets longer --- Maer.
Friday, February 14th 1868
Odyssey, Trieste Harbor
Austria Hungary
Toward noon
Josephine had left that morning to check the progress of the five millions in thalers destined for the hold of Audacious. Once she was assured of its arrival on the morrow, she sought out the harbor telegraph office at the train station to deliver her report with her observations and queries to the Colonel. She waited for the reply and forty minutes later, she had it in her hand. She read it, a string of gibberish in the Latin alphabet, and translated the code in her head. She went through it again, not quite believing her decryption. The response remained the same. She shifted the key and decrypted it once more, getting nothing but gibberish in return. She’d been correct the first time.
Right.
Josephine smiled her thanks at the telegrapher, paid her fee, and marched to the ladies’ wash room. Shutting herself up in a stall, she struck a vesta and burned the copy of her telegram and the Colonel’s reply to ash. The flame courted her fingertips and she put up with the pain until, burned, she dropped the charred flakes into the toilet. She pulled the chain and the last of the evidence disappeared down the drain. The water from the sink was cold and bracing when she splashed her face and she turned off the tap to stare at her reflection.
A young woman stared back. Dark hair, dark eyes, serious mien. Josephine smoothed her expression and essayed a smile. She quit the washroom and sought out the station’s left luggage office. It was the work of a moment to order their luggage delivered to the Savoy-Trieste where Bertie and Flora had repaired for the remainder of their stay. Bertie and Flora’s luggage, she noticed, was absent. Trust Bertie to take care of his own effects, she thought. Good. It was one less detail she had to manage. She paid the porters from the change she carried on her person and counting the remainder with a glance, she resigned herself to walking back to the harbor instead of hiring a cab. With a last look at the men moving the first of their trunks for the loading dock, Josephine set her course for the water and the ship that waited for her there.
The sun was high, the hour nearly noon when she stepped aboard. Kalashnikov was on the deck, supervising the mounting of his steam cannon. His red hair blazed in the light, copper-penny bright. His fair skin shone with the sweat of honest labor. Josephine paused on the plank to admire the effect. There was no doubt he cut a handsome figure, even sweating over his latest invention and in her heart of hearts, Josephine admitted had circumstances been different, she might have been taken by him for the sake of his inventions alone.
Careful, Jo. You’re not after his inventions. You’re here for something else entirely. Onward.
“Alexi,” she called, waving a hand and giving him a small smile. “I hope I am not too late.”
From below deck, Alexi looked out the cannon port toward the dock. Standing near the gangplank and mooring was the Arceneaux woman. A wry smile played across his face. “Boris, Igor, continue with fitting the pipes. I’m going above deck,” he ordered. Gripping the fire pole, he shimmied up the pole to the main deck. Tilting his cap at a jaunty angle, he called towards Josephine. “Ahoy, you must be lost!” With a hearty laugh, he gestures towards the city proper. “Your ward has the keys to lunch. She will be most put out that she’s misplaced her mistress.”
Butterflies made a hash of her stomach and Josephine took a deep breath of the clean salt air and took the final step aboard.
“Evie can do just fine without me for the nonce,” Josephine said, a smile gracing her words. “And what of you? Surely you cannot expect to sit down at table as you are. You’re …,” she raised a brow at the soot and grease smudging him head to toe. “Have you fired it off yet? If you must be late to your own luncheon, one would hope it would be in a good cause.”
Tilting his head to the side, Alexi was taken aback by this change of tone. “Your solicitousness is much appreciated, but I will break fast with the crew. Not so rich a feast as the Hussars will provide with Evie as hostess, I fear. Too rich a diet distracts and disables me when I’m working, frankly.” With an exaggerated shoulder-lifting shrug, he hung his head and admitted, “Black bread and pears for myself, and smoked ham for those who wish flesh I’m afraid is all we have on the menu today.” He noticed her eyes scanning over his grease smudged arms and face, and hurriedly wiped his hands on his shirt front.
“I fear that our plans are to work through most of lunch, and pass on a siesta. Before we depart I wish to take one more short cruise and test the cannon.”
“I prefer simpler fare myself,” Josephine replied, her lips twitching with amusement. She did, really. Growing up with her mother’s home cooking and ten years of travelling with William had made her unaccustomed to richer fare. Dining with Ezekiel and Katherine was a treat not to be missed, certainly, but she could not imagine herself maintaining a steady diet of it. She needed sturdier food to keep herself in fighting trim. Odd, that the Russian followed the same discipline. She’d thought him a touch too dandified for it. Intrigued despite herself, she moved closer.
“Would it inconvenience you if I remained aboard to observe? I confess I am interested in your work.” She cast her gaze down at the deck and told him the truth. “Technology is something of a hobby of mine, I’m afraid. Hardly ladylike, I’m sure, but ….” She dared look up through her lashes at the man. “There are some who would say I am hardly a lady. So, it would be all right, wouldn’t it?”
Alexi puffed out his chest and thrust his chin forward. “A lady is a woman who follows her own mind. A woman who lets the smallest minds in the room determine for her what actions are proper and which are forbidden is merely a pet!” Lost in the passion of his pedantic diatribe, he waxed on. “Some minds are so narrow they must squeeze genius into a narrow line. There is no endeavor so ennobling as working with your hands and creating what no other hands have wrought.”
Fearful that his bombast had pushed the English lady away again, he stifled himself. “Suffice to say, we are in agreement. If you would be the guest of my crew, they would be most pleased to demonstrate some of the small objects that together we have manufactured.” Turning, he called over his shoulder. “Anna, Olga, please bring Madame aboard, and find her a leather apron before she goes into the works below. I would not wish her clothes to be as disconcerted as my own.” Alexi turned back to Josephine, and gave his most courtly bow. “Would the lady consent to be the guest of the crew of Odyssey for a light lunch and a tour of the working machines of the boat and its weapons?”
This man, Josephine thought, is either very observant as to what makes me tick, or he is being honest. We shall see, shan’t we? Aloud, she merely smiled politely and said, “The lady would. Very much. Thank you.”
Since it seemed the thing to do, she extended her hand.
After taking Josephine’s hand, Alexi became very aware of his odor. Chagrined, he quickly stepped back away from her. “I shall oversee the preparation of food, and clean myself. I apologize for any offense my dishevelment has caused. I shall endeavor to make myself less offensive company. I must warn you, I get most lost in the work, and do not comport myself befitting my station. My hygiene must appall you. The workmen below I confess are no more rose-scented then I find myself.”
Quirking his head to the side, he glanced sideways at Josephine. “Will you humor me, and overlook the earthiness of the artists, and focus your attentions instead upon their opus?” Having taken care to stand downwind from her, he spots the girls with the leather apron. “Ah, they have something to cover your finery. Please to bring the lady a nosegay from one of the staterooms to hold to her nose. I shall not allow our shortcomings to deny her curiosity!”
“But of course, if you will likewise overlook any similar shortcoming of mine.” Josephine was rather aware she stood in yesterday’s clothes, in yesterday’s linen. There had been no time to get what she needed from her trunk to effect a change and do what she’d resolved to do. She took the apron from the women with whispered thanks and tied it on, then waved a hand forward. “Shall we?”
Alexi stood aside and allowed the servants to guide Madame Arceneaux below deck to the inner workings. Down below decks, at the end of the hallway of staterooms, a door led to a ladder down into the steamy, greasy bowels of the ship. Coal dust and smoke filled the air. Steel and brass fittings connected veritable miles of pipes to boilers and steam engines. Long pipes with a complicated series of knobs and valves led to the four steam cannons on each broadside of the ship. Hinged wooden plates covered the openings from which the cannon barrels would protrude at battle stations.
The workmen stared openly at the English lady wandering through the ship, and whispered low in Russian to each other. With awkward shuffling, they moved aside to give an unobstructed view to any area she seemed to wish to examine more closely. The sweat dripped from the men in rivulets. With obvious social discomfort, they shuffled over to the pipes of cooler water to get frequent drinks without turning their back on this obvious high class guest of His Admirable Heritage.
Josephine took it all in and tried to fit everything together in her head. Her years of watching and assisting Anton with his inventions had given her a good layman’s knowledge of how things generally worked and as she had with Mortimer’s invention, she grasped the rough concept easily enough. Looking over the entire operation, she privately wondered if it would actually be feasible to mount in the British Navy.
It’s possible that demonstration he’s promised might offer up a clue.
“Excuse me, Alexi, but how are you able to expel the ordnance? Does the round itself provide sufficient seal to pressurize the firing chamber or is there another mechanism or step involved?” Josephine took a cautious step closer to one of the gauges on the cannon nearest her and eyeballed the needle on it. The reading surprised her. “How are you able to withstand that pressure? Through thicker walls or through metallurgy?”
“The boilers and pipes are made of an alloy of steel and aluminum with exhaust fittings at regular intervals. As for the ordinance, rather than powder, a buildup of steam pressure in a sealed barrel expels the shot with some force when the seal is breached. The blast sends the carriage back along this track, where the barrel tilts up to be loaded with another shot. After sealing, the pressure builds again while the mechanism is wheeled back into position. I have worked with various metals to perfect a combination which can withstand incredible pressures. Gregor here was the one with the idea to use the aluminum. Filip helped with the seal design and the railway track mechanism for bearing the recoil.”
He frowned at the workmen, and spoke forcefully in Russian. The men scurried to their stations and began oiling the rail track, and stoking the coal fires. “They are shy around you, Madame. They seem to mistake you for royalty.” After becoming aware of how that sounded, Alexi visibly winced. “My apologies, please excuse my offense. I meant to in no way question your station and breeding, but you seem to not be one to stand on protocol. You wish to see the works, rather than be fawned over.”
“Please, Alexi, no apologies are needed,” Josephine smiled through her reply, charmed by his solicitude, despite her inner caution. “I never stand on ceremony when it would be more practical to be unequivocal than diplomatic. Pray do not feel you’ve done anything amiss. I find your candor refreshing. Thank you for that.”
She looked down at the rail assembly and back up at Kalashnikov.
“With the force you describe, what sort of arresting gear must you use to keep the cannon from jumping off the rear of the track? I don’t see any chains or … truly, I cannot fathom how it’s done.”
“Well, I shall not apologize, since I’m making myself tiresome,” he said. “When the device fires, this barrel rolls back, and this pulls the stop-up from the deck below.” He smiled shyly. “I find myself insufferable. Allow me to demonstrate.” He rolled the cannon back along the railing, and as the barrel moved back into the ship, a metal post rose from a small hole to block the end of the rail. When the barrel hit the post, the barrel tilted up, the seal turned aside to leave the empty barrel accessible. “To be frank, I wish to discover if the mechanism works. I fear the results if esteemed guests were aboard when disastrous failure strikes. Enough of indulging me. I bore myself with this shop talk. Shall we break?”
Alexi bellowed loudly in Russian, and the workmen put down their work, and climbed the ladder to the upper deck. The tables were set with simple plates, steins of beer, and very simple food laid out. Alexi took a seat in the middle of the table between two workmen, and gestured for Josephine to take the high backed seat at the head of the table. “Please, help yourself to what fare we have. You shall have the seat of honor, with space to make note for your Royal Navy in your notebook while you sate your hunger.”
Josephine listened intently to his answer and noted everything in his demonstration. She had to admit it was clever but as the saying went, the proof would be in the pudding, and her estimation of him rose when she heard her thoughts echoed by Kalashnikov. More and more, the buffoon aspect of the courtier fell away and revealed the truer self beneath. Josephine felt the first tendrils of genuine admiration creeping through her. His comment about the Royal Navy, however, halted their progress and she sternly reminded herself that for all his creativity and perception, he was her country’s putative enemy and would bear watching. She refrained from comment and kept her expression clear of censure as she took the seat offered. She eyed the distance between them and resigned herself to shouting down the table for conversation. There was a plate in front of her and a clear invitation from her host to fill it. She did and raised her voice.
“So, how long have you worked on this design, sir?”
“It has been the work of some years. Three, to be exact.” Turning to one of the workmen, he spoke in Russian, and listened to the response. As his employee finished speaking, Alexi gave a hearty laugh, and clapped his worker on the back. General laughter broke out around the table, and the beer steins were emptied and filled at a faster pace. “Excuse me, I do not wish you to think we laugh at your expense. I told the boys that you would see that England builds a hundred ships improving on their work, and if they ask nicely, you would try to have the first ships named for them. I hope my directness does not offend you. As I explained to your Lady Katherine, I am a sensate medium. Taking your hand, I read the thought from you that England might profit from what you have learned. I would be most honored, truly.”
Alexi shrugged, and stood to walk to Josephine’s end of the table.
“Let us be honest, we two. Russia is poor. I am rich, but my wealth depends on the sweat and toil of thousands of humans who live in grinding poverty. Your England has its poor as well. But England is rich, truly rich. For every fifty suffering urban proles, there is a Katherine or an Ezekiel. I envy that. Russia envies that. What I can afford as a plaything for one man, England can make practical and useful. I make toys that cannot be reproduced. England makes INDUSTRY. If I could be impoverished to the level of Ezekiel and lift thousands from hopelessness, I would do so. But one man making steam powered toys cannot match the power of the vast mills and factories of your land.” He sat on the end of the wooden bench, trying desperately to catch Josephine’s eye.
“You do not trust me, I know this. You find me boorish, self-indulgent, and spoiled with riches in a way no more pleasant then last week’s dinner being spoiled and forced upon you would be.” Alexi very carefully avoided touching her, after his admission of using magic upon her. “I wish sincerely for the friendship of those with the ear of your government. Peace between our countries could be not just of profit to both, but could lead to a cooperation that could reduce incredible misery.”
Oh, that’s torn it. He would plead the case of the poor and the underprivileged.
Nevertheless, he had made several practical observations as to the drawbacks of a serf-and-noble based society and she listened carefully. The idea that he considered someone of Ezekiel’s wealth to be impoverished spoke volumes—both of the man sitting beside her and the riches of Russia herself. As to his admission of his sensate abilities and the fact he’d been reading her the entire time … that forced her to rethink her strategy with the man. Josephine kept her hands steady on her fork and stein. She took a sip of the beer and washed the meat and bread down.
When she’d walled off her emotions and her thoughts as best she could and knew her voice would not betray her disquiet, she said, “Nothing would make me happier than to see people of both our countries benefit from such friendship as can be had. But you and I, sir, do not set the policies of our respective Monarchs, and as subjects of said Crowns, there are rules of engagement we must follow.”
She slid a look at him and turned back to her plate.
“I am not well-enough versed in the politics of your country, Alexi, to understand what drives the poverty you implore, but I can tell you that in mine, class privilege has ruined as many lives as disease and war combined. I would hope that such is not the case in your homeland, but I strongly suspect that it is something our countries have in common. Am I right?”
Keep it to politics and social ills. Machines and steam. Nothing personal. Dear God, what else has he managed to glean from me? Why didn’t Katherine warn me against touching him?
Alexi sat back stiffly, and gave Josephine a direct look. “You are more than a match for me. I commend you, Madame Arceneaux. You have withstood the blandishments of my attentions and the luxuries that have so turned the head of your young ward. You have responded to my complete candor with guarded wariness. Each olive branch I extend towards you is met with a sharper set of clippers.”
He shook his head ruefully, and turned to speak in Russian over his shoulder. The table erupted again in laughter. Alexi himself laughed loud and hard. “My crew suggests to me that I surrender now. If England were to field women of your calibre, our Hussars would be forced to flee the field!” Alexi stood and bowed deeply. “I concede the field to you, Madame. There is nothing I offer that can compel your friendship. In and of myself, I am indeed the spoiled brat you see me as, living large off the suffering of faceless serfs. The misery of others gives me the means to enjoy myself, and I console my conscience by speaking empty words of justice.”
He picked up a napkin and rubbed his face. “If you will excuse me, I will return to work now. I am very honored that you have accepted our hospitality. I regret that my manner has given offense. Please, do not dissuade the others from being my guests. I hunger for the stimulation of the conversations, and frankly, the assuaging of my vanity of how easily impressed others are by the show and circus of my toys and baubles.”
After clicking his heels, Alexi turned and headed to the stairs to the decks below. “In an hour, we depart to test the cannon. If you wish, we shall return within three hours.”
Caution urged her to politely decline. The order issued by the Colonel dictated her reply.
“I do so wish. I look forward to it,” Josephine said to his back and rising to her feet, she raised her stein in a salute to the table. “To success, Gentlemen!”
The preparations for departure were soon effected, and the Odyssey set sail into the dark blue green of the Adriatic. The boat gathered speed as the boilers pumped, coal dust mixing with steam in the engines’ exhaust. Alexi stood amidship, waiting for the coast to recede from view. When the unaided eye could no longer espy the shore, he ordered the power diverted to pressurizing the cannon.
“Оружие огня,” he bellowed, and the guns volleyed starboard. A surprisingly quiet gust of steam was expelled from four barrels, sending round iron balls flying through the air. With a wry smile, the aristocrat turned to Josephine. “It seems our test was successful, Madame.” With a florid gesture, he summoned one of the serving girls to bring cold champagne.
“While we drink to the success of my construction, and future success of your mission to spy on me, let us talk of your England, rather then my Russia, no?”
Looking from her shoes, up the skirt, across her torso, and up to her hat, he lowered his eyes to the level of hers again. “You are aware that your Colonel is a wealthy man, no? Owns factories, yes? Tell me, Madame. Have you been in the colonel’s factory? Have you seen the twelve year olds who toil at the spinning machines for fourteen hour shifts? Visited his modern coal mines on his estates in the North Country? Witnessed first hand the pain and suffering that makes your friends Katherine and Ezekiel so comfortable, if not so oppressive and rich as myself?”
Josephine accepted a flute of champagne and sipped it, enjoying its warm effervescence as it rolled across her tongue. She tucked one arm under the other and suffered his raking look without flinch or dither.
“Indeed I have, sir,” she said, raising a brow and twirling the stem of her glass delicately. “I do, however, think it disingenuous of you to extol the virtues of English industry one moment and revile them the next. Were you sincere in your praise and in your hopes for a merging of resources or were you merely saying what you thought I wanted to hear?”
Alexi responded with a vulpine smile. “Touché, Madame.” He drained the flute of champagne, and threw the glass overboard. “My point, lady, is this. You sit in Anglo-Saxon judgment of my Oriental ways, my Slavic backwardness, and ostentation. Misery doesn’t have a race. Gender doesn’t determine virtue. Nationality does not make less deplorable the distance between rich and poor.” He sat on the railing, and crossed his arms across his chest, head turned to stare out to sea.
“If we shall not discuss the similar failings of our own countries, shall I judge you for your shortcomings personally, as you have judged me?” With a turn of his head, he fixed the lovely English woman with his metallic blue cat eyes. “You think me vain and ridiculous. What shall we make of yourself?”
“Please do not mistake the personal for the political, Alexi. What I think of your character has nothing to do with what I think of your government or even your religion. Good and evil men are found in the same political or religious ranks no matter the country under scrutiny. As such I am not blind to the shortcomings of my Sovereign’s foreign policy, even as I serve in my small capacity as an instrument of its execution.” Josephine drained her glass in turn and set it carefully on the serving tray, giving the woman who held it patiently aloft a smile and a nod.
“As for what we shall make of myself, you are free to come to your own conclusions, sir, and I am equally free to ignore them.”
Alexi’s head jerked back, and he grasped the railing tightly. “Very well. You know I am a sensate medium, and that I have read you, and your companions. My opinion is less than meaningless. I shall share with you what your ‘friends’ think of you then, and let you chew on that.” He stood, rising to his full height of just over six feet. He lifted his hand, forefinger extended to begin to read the woman to her face.
“No,” he said, lowering his hand with visible shaking. “I wish not to offend you, but you confound me, perplex me, and intrigue me awfully.” He turned his back to her, his head hanging until his chin almost rested on his chest. “I shall go below decks until we make port again. You have free reign of the boat to study to your heart’s content. I am of no interest, and my friendship of no value. I will not make your stay more unpleasant then necessary.” He loudly shouted orders in Russian, and still turned away from Josephine, and said quietly, “I offer my apologies which you will not accept, and since I cannot make myself pleasant to you, I shall make myself absent. The girls understand some English. Inform them of any needs. In self defense I must warn you that since we must be enemies, I will defend myself should you try to take my life while a guest on my boat.
“Madame, I shall offer you safe passage for five minutes after the boat is secured to the moorings. If you are within my power after that point, I shall take you into custody as an enemy combatant.”
“Aleksandr Georgievich Marina Kalashnikov!” Josephine rapped out his name drill sergeant sharp, her spine ramrod straight and her chin up, eyes blazing in silent challenge. “This pouting ill-becomes you. You are a man, not a spoiled boy fishing for compliments, yes? A man would not offer an apology and then snatch it away before it can be accepted. A man would not profess friendship and then declare it worthless. A man would not presume to speak or think for anyone with regard to these things, or any other, lest he seem boorish and unpleasant. So which are you, sir? And as to your abilities as a sensate medium, you claim to know exactly how and of what I think of you. How is that possible when you consistently miss the mark in your presumptions? Explain that to me, if you would be so kind.”
Alexi stood up straight, and spun on his heel to face the commanding voice. “You vex me and hound me, and then accuse ME of being ungracious? What manner of men are these English that they can mate with emasculating shrews of your ilk?” His voice became increasingly high pitched and the whine more pronounced. “I try to be nice to you, and give you nice things and you are mean. It’s not fair!” After calming enough to notice the alarmed looks given to him by the serving girls who knew some English, he tried to regain some composure, but lost himself entirely.
“You have friends, and I can only rent playmates. Alexi is a good man, and kind.” Large tears welled up in his eyes as his self absorption completely got the better of him. “No one likes me. They only like the presents and the toys. I am good, and only people want to take and then to go!”
The Eldren broke out into a run, heading for the stairs below deck. “I shall not go to Egypt with you! I shall run the blockade of Constantinople and use my boat to defeat your precious navy. I shall show you! I shall show everyone who laughs at me while they spend my money!”
You asked for an explanation, Jo. Well, you’ve got it.
Josephine did not let the distance between them grow but followed right on his heels. She grabbed his elbow and pulled him around to face her again.
“Please listen to me. You are Eldren and you are a Prince and you are Russian. You are a man, with a man’s pride. You have a heart, with needs and desires as great as the steppes, as expansive as the sky. Others know this, do they not? Therefore, you are accustomed to courtiers paying elaborate court, visitors enthralled by your wealth and extravagance. No doubt amongst those you normally consort, they are accustomed to taking tremendous advantage of your good nature and your longing for friendship. Perhaps they have convinced you that it must be at the cost of your bank account and your generous spirit. I tell you now, it may be the way it is done in your homeland, Alexi Georgievch, but this is not Russia and I am not Russian.”
She released him and said, velvet over steel, “Of everything you gave me, I did not ask for, nor did I give any indication I expected it as my rightful due. I accepted those gifts under protest because I did not need them to like you. I am trying to understand the man beneath the show, the extravagance, the vanity. Every time I get close, you run away, throwing barbs and accusations. Why? Why can we not simply sit down and talk, as one intelligent person to another, without bombast and flowery speeches getting in the way?”
Alexi pulled his arm, free, but stood still and smoothed his shirt front after wiping his eyes with the left sleeve. “With the crew, I can be a workman. But in FRONT of the crew, I must be the boyar. I tell you I am a sensate. I have not truly read you; that was a lie to scare you. But I have read others. Oh, I have read others.” He barked angrily in Russian, and the remaining crew members and servants scurried to get below decks.
“If I acted like the man you say you wish to know, your Lady Katherine and Lord Ezekiel would not be charmed; they would think me fit to be locked away. If I were to be the steam-obsessed grease-covered tinker you think I am least despicable as, your Lord Bertram and Lady Flora would treat me with amused disdain, not fear and envy.” Having lost all pretext of self-respect in front of this woman, he openly pouted. “You would not like the me you say you could be friends with. You only wish to have me be weak and then you can laugh. So laugh! Oh, the funny stories you can share at the Captain’s table with your friends! The Russian! HA! Cried like a little girl!”
With some effort, he dried his tears and stood up straighter, but still could not make himself make eye contact again with the woman who had shamed him so. “If I were to give one ruble to each person starving in Russia, I could starve with them too. Then tomorrow, we could all starve together.” He shrugged exaggeratedly. “I do what I think is best, and try to live with the results. I pay well for what I buy, and I try to limit the suffering of my people. My poverty would not enrich them. You do not demand your colonel be poor to be honest. We must be enemies, and you will take my new friends from me.” He stared up at the sky, still avoiding her eyes. “You tire of my company, and I find myself unamused by your contempt. Please, let us make an end of it.”
Josephine stood on the deck and listened to Kalashnikov’s bitterness and it struck a chord within her, far down where it would not show. It made her realize his hurts went deeper than words and at that moment, she knew what to do.
“Alexi,” she said, her voice soft. “I am sorry. I do not know how, exactly, but I have hurt you. You feel ridiculed and scorned, like a bear in chains made to dance for another’s amusement. I would never ask you to dance that way, Alexi. I know what it is like to perform for a crowd that would as easily jeer at you as applaud. I am an Englishwoman, yes, and I have highly placed friends, yes. But I wasn’t always as you see me now. I was once circus folk and there are many who will never let me forget how low that makes me and they will never let me live it down. It is they I fight. They are responsible for much of what I truly hate about the world. But you would know about that, wouldn’t you? They have hurt you, too.”
She took a step closer, approaching Alexi like a deer she did not wish to startle. In truth, she did not want him to run away again.
“You and I, we aren’t that much different from each other, are we? You have your charm, your intellect, the skill of your hands, and your wealth and position. You are of the privileged class and yet, you are able to see the misery that so many of your station cannot. You can feel for the unfortunate, as they cannot. You feel as I do. And you are not too shy to speak your mind. Just as I do.”
She took another step, close enough to touch his tunic, but she stayed her hand. She looked at him and bit her lip and continued.
“That must make you very strange to your people, Alexi. They cannot understand you. Just as I am very strange to my people, because they cannot understand how a lowly circus girl can come as far as I have and not be … what they would have me be. Every day I fight their expectations. Every day I defy them. I live my life as an example to others that they need not be content with the place others have made for them. Just as you have. You could have contented yourself with marrying well, with tending your estates and your social obligations. Yet you have not. Instead of hoarding your wealth, you’ve spent it to make machines to change the world. And not just the world inside your country’s borders, but the entire world. For everyone. Not just the privileged few. That makes you different. And you know, as I know, the world does not suffer that difference gladly.”
She drew even with him now and dared touch his hand. Acknowledging his wounded pride, his nonconformity, only reminded her of her own and it made her voice thick.
“You are alone. No one can know what it is like to maintain appearances and still be true to yourself, to follow as your heart and spirit demand. How can they? They cannot crawl inside your skin and feel the slights, the contempt, that you have suffered. They cannot feel the feelings that flow off others like water, the way you can with your sensate gift. Just as they could never know how painful it is to perform for an ugly crowd, to swim in the ocean of their ill will, and do it with a smile on your face. I know. I’ve done it. I’ve had to.”
She curled her fingers around his and leaned in as the memories clamored to the surface. Tears prickled her lashes and she refused to dash them away. Josephine raised his hand to her cheek and cupped it there. She looked into his eyes and drawing close enough to feel the heat of his body rising off him, she said:
“We are not so different, Alexi. We are alike, you and I. So no more masks. No more sparring. That time is over.”
One more step and she pressed against him.
“You are a sensate medium,” she breathed as she tipped her face to his. “I cannot lie under your touch. Read me now, Alexi, and know I am telling you the truth.”
Then rising on her toes, she kissed him on the lips.
Shocked, almost scared by the mercurial nature of this woman, Alexi brushed her tears from her left check, his hands callused for one of his station. He lifted his hand to his own cheek, and mingled her tears with his own. The Russian lifted both hands to her shoulders, holding her close, but refraining from pulling her closer.
“I have traveled far to find you, tiny sparrow. I have searched for years to find the woman who was my equal in spirit,” he said, his voice thick, holding back yet more tears. “I do not want the woman equal in rank or wealth, I have plenty of that myself. I had thought I wanted to meet the woman who equaled my strengths. You’ve shown me something greater. We are equal in pain.
“I wish I could share in your joy, and inspire your faith. To be honest, I am a male. I wish I could show to you what the act of love shared with a medium can be,” he growled, his arousal getting the better of his self pity. He took his right hand, and grasped her left hand in his fist, lifted her extended fingers to his face. He brushed her hand across his forehead. “I have the eyes of a man, and see as a man,” he said, as her fingers traveled down his face to his nose. “I smell in the manner of all men.” When her fingers brushed over his lips, he spoke, his breath pushing against her fingertips. “I eat like a man, and wish to kiss the lips of a woman I love as any man would.”
Very slowly, he lowered her fingertips to his chest, pressed against the rough fabric of his workman’s shirt above his heart. “My body is the body of a man, with a heart that pushes blood to all parts of his body, but has still dark corners that even I as a medium cannot read.” He slid his hand down her delicate fingers, slowly letting her hand drop from his. “There are other parts I would show you, but I refuse to take what is not freely given.”
The weight of his hands on her cheek and shoulders sent warm waves swamping through her. When he mentioned the act of love, the heat spiked straight through her belly and flickered in all the secret places that ached for his touch. She didn’t resist when he took her hand and his breath on her fingers nearly undid her, sending little thrills of pleasure spiraling to her chest. Shocked at her body’s reaction, Josephine drew a steadying breath to keep herself upright.
Decide, Jo. Draw back now or go all in?
In.
“I would freely comfort a friend in pain, Alexi.” Josephine said when he released her. She slid her hand up his chest to stroke his neck delicately under his collar. “But comfort and friendship is all I can give you. Is it enough? Or do you require more?”
“Comfort and friendship. That is a start. I shall send away the crew for a last night on the town, and send the girls to the house for the night,” he said, his voice thick with rising need. “Come to me tonight. We shall dine on deck, alone we two. Then, in the stateroom, I will try to give you pleasure while you try to give me solace.”
Seeing the dock of Trieste pull into sight over Josephine’s shoulder, he sighed. “You cannot love me as I love you, I accept this. But there could be comfort in our time for both of us.”
He turned away, and headed to the stairs down. “Your friends need never know, little sparrow. It is enough for me for us to discover for ourselves.”
Words crowded to her lips, too late to reverse her course or his, and Josephine remained silent as Kalashnikov disappeared belowdecks. Alea Iacta Est, Father. Please don’t let me fail. Josephine turned her back on the Russian’s descent and waited until it was safe to step off onto dry land.
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