Franengeld

Previously in Frankengeld. Damion and Helena have been allowed to keep the fortune in gold hidden in the Old Doctor's desk. They have visited Freida and witnessed her appetite for clues and her forensic analysis of the mystery of the missing Doctor and his Daughter. On the way home they had a strange encounter with a Turk and his two Wives. The next day started with surgery on a young man who had his arm crushed under a cart, which has provided Damion with a hand that might be used to create a Hand of Toxicity. All he has to do is follow Victor Frankenstein's instructions.

Now read on...

10th June, in the year 1784, in the morning.

The rest of the morning was quieter. We had two patients of the old doctor both of which came to give me a try before, presumably, deciding if they would move to a more established practitioner. I did my best for each one, very aware that my mind kept wandering to the object in the laboratory lying on a bed of crushed ice, or the memory of Helena's breasts being sucked by two labourers.

Once the morning surgery was completed, and we had eaten our lunch, we left Anya and Yani to their jobs and descended the stairs into the laboratory. Each time I went down these stairs recently I got a brief flashback, a moment of fear, from the night when the wolf got into the house. I'm sure it will fade or perhaps I will become one of those people whose trauma becomes part of their constant conversation. Where people who fail to understand me will be regaled with the phrase 'You cannot comprehend, my friend, for you were not present when the trauma occurred.'

On the bench, in a shallow tray filled with crushed ice was the thing we had come to work on. I lifted the bloodied cloth. The hand lay on the ice in perfect condition, though my eye was drawn to the mangled forearm. There was a twinge of guilt in my mind. Had I removed the arm prematurely because, at the back of my mind, the need for a hand had been lurking for days? I took up a scalpel and used it to gently probe the bone and tissue. A feeling of relief flooded over me as I observed again the shattered bones, crushed down to the marrow. And the shredded flesh that no surgeon, even those from Edinburgh far to the west, could have saved. One day perhaps there will be the science to heal such catastrophic injuries, but at the moment we are a long way away.

"Thank goodness, it did need to be done," I said under my breath.

"Sorry Damion?" asked Helena.

I had not realised that I had spoken my thoughts out loud, or that Helena was listening.

"Just grateful that this was surgery that was necessary, Helena," I gave her a weak smile. "Now, let us follow Victor's instructions."

I removed the damaged flesh, leaving us with just the hand and a part of the wrist, and then examined the wires Victor had given me. All we could do was to follow his instructions as precisely as we could. I read each paragraph to Helena before we took that action, so that there was no chance she might work against me by accident. I noticed that she looked closely at the words as I read them.

"We must trust what Victor has written and drawn here," I said to her.

"Do you understand how this will work, Damion?" she asked.

"Honestly, no," I admitted. "It is far beyond my knowledge of anatomy."

"And these wires," she lifted the fine cables. "What do they do?"

"Victor writes that they convey some sort of natural electrical message. Though that science is also a mystery to me," I admitted.

We worked on, attaching the wires to the hand, then the small bowl, and finally lowering the hand into the glass jar. It floated in the solution, palm down, neither sinking to the bottom or rising to the surface. We attached the lid, and sealed the jar, then we carried it to its resting place with me holding the heavy jar, and Helena keeping the little bowl close - so as to not overstretch the wires.

"Now to test it," I said. "Helena, please bring me the small jar of cyanide, the little blue one, and a bottle of tonic for the elderly."

I put a single, small, cyanide crystal into a bowl of water. It dissolved quickly. Then I used a pipette to take up a very small amount of the liquid.

"Let us see if the hand can detect this very weak solution," I said. "It would be enough to make someone quite ill."

I put a drop into the small bowl and we collectively held our breaths. The hand twitched once, then slowly rotated until the thumb was pointing downwards. It worked. I cleaned the little bowl and the hand returned to floating palm down. I then repeated the process with a more concentrated solution. This time the hand twitched several times before turning the thumb downward.

"So Helena," I was pleased. "It seems the more dangerous the substance, the more it twitches. And thumbs down means poison."

"What happens, Damion, if the substance is good for you?"

"Let's try," I said. "Can you pour a drop of tonic into the bowl."

I wiped the bowl clean and presented it for her. She hefted the bottle and deftly put a tiny splash of tonic in. We both turned as one to look at the hand. It flexed its fingers, spreading them wide, then rotated until the thumb was pointing upwards. Helena laughed.

"It works!" she cried delightedly. "Now all we need to do is make an elixir that is safe, and that makes people happy."

"Yes, that's all." I patted her hip in a friendly manner. There was no point telling her the complexity of what I was trying to achieve.

That evening, after tea, Helena took my hand, and looked me in the eye with a serious expression on her face. She had that determined look that I had grown to recognise.

"I have decided I must take up Freida's offer of tuition," Helena said in a determined manner.

"Now?"

"Yes now," she said as she picked up her cloak. "Every day that passes is one where I could shame you."

I had a nagging feeling that there was more to this visit than she was letting on, but remembering their comradely embraces when we visited I was confident that Freida would be gentle in her teaching manner and that Helena would learn useful knowledge on how to behave as the upper classes do.

"If you want to do this, then you have my support, and my admiration," I smiled.

"Thank you Damion."

"I only have one condition," I said in my best firm manner. "That you hire a link-boy to light you home if it is dark when you return. For a murderer, I believe, stalks the district."

And so it was agreed. Helena put on her cloak and set off to Freida's house, and a short while later Anya and Yani went out to visit yet another elderly relative. The lad looked very content with this arrangement and I guessed that he was anticipating another coupling with an elderly woman. By my calculation there were now three old women in his strange harem, but so long as all were happy with the arrangement I was happy to make no comment.

I settled down to read a book, something I realised I had been too busy to do for weeks. "Tom Jones" by the English writer Henry Fielding was hard to read, being written in the author's native tongue, however the effort was worth it. I was barely a third of the way into its thousand or so pages, but the story of the character's adventures thrilled me and I was deeply engrossed in a chapter entitled "In which the Landlady Pays a Visit to Mr. Jones" when the doorbell rang. I looked up to realise that it was already near sunset. The red glow of the dying sun's light suffused the room making it look like it was bathed in blood, and there was the pattering sound of rain.

I put away Tom and his amorous adventures, and went to open the door. Una, the chambermaid from my ancestral home, was stood there. For a moment I thought she had been sent because someone at home was ill, then I realised she was wet through.

"Oh master Damion, help me! I have run away from Durishaus," she said, looking a picture of misery. Her hair was soaked, as were her clothes, and she was shivering with the chill brought on by the rain. I did not realise that we had experienced a cloudburst while my attention was on Tom and Sophia.

"Come in," I held the door wide so she could pass me and glanced up and down the street checking it was clear. I did not want the locals to think I was letting in a common whore.

"Is it alright?" Una said, looking as if she had caught my worried glances. "I will go away if you want me to."

"You will not," I replied. "Come in Una, and let's see what we can do to get you warm and dry."

"Thank you, master Damion."

I gave her a brandy, and then a second one, fascinated by the effect of the water on the linen of her blouse. It adhered to her little breasts and her nipples showed clearly. They were erect with the cold. Then I realised she needed to get warm again, and I was prevaricating, and staring at the poor girl.

"Una," I assured her. "You can stay here while you work out where you will go. But we need to get you out of those wet clothes."

"Yes, certainly sir," she replied. "I don't want to get you into trouble. I will go as soon as you've finished having sex with me. I'll be warm enough then, provided I can hang my clothes here by the stove to dry."

"Sex, well perhaps," I said, rather taken by the idea. "But first, a bath for you. And if my family send someone to look for you then I will tell them I've not seen you. I prefer not to lie, but I will if need be."

I followed her up the stairs to the servants rooms at the top of the house, this time marvelling how her wet skirt was clinging to her fine, small, firm buttocks. Unconsciously I reached out to stroke their curves, only stopping myself at the last moment.

I was hoping that Anya and Yani had stopped copulating long enough to have got round to cleaning the rest of the servants rooms. I shouldn't have worried. The rooms were spotless and tidy with everything laid ready for an unannounced guest, or rather the servant of an unannounced guest. They had even found some spare nightclothes which were laid out on the oak coffer. Anya had the first room, Yani the second, so I picked the third room for Una and hauled the tin bath from the store cupboard at the end of the corridor, dropping some bath salts into the bottom with a rattle. Then I ran up and down the stairs with hot water until it started to fill the room with fragrant steam. Una looked very uncomfortable. What I was doing was a servants job, but I would not let her help.

"In you get," I waved at the bath. Una turned her back and pulled her dress over her head.

"Why did you run away?" I asked, as I watched her take off her undergarments.

"Your father took me to the Blue Room where there's two monstrous statues that have animal heads," she explained. "I thought it was just going to be sex, and I have learned to cope with his large cock, even to enjoy it, for he has fucked me at every opportunity since you returned and saw me in the Red Room."

The Blue Room was where my father had his collection of antiquities. No doubt she was referring to the stone statues of Hathor and Horus, granite guardians of his favourite items from the tombs of the Pharaohs. I was a little shocked by her language, which was more the language of a whore than a well behaved servant, but perhaps the shock of her experience had unbalanced her.

"So it was not 'just sex' then?" I prompted her to continue. I was strangely interested in what had befallen her, what act of depravity my Father had inflicted on her. Servant abuse was common in the larger noble houses, but my Father had an extra bestial side and I was perversely intrigued to know what he had done.

"He made me undress," she started. "Then he threw a strange garment made from straps of leather at me, and indicated I should put it on."

I listened open mouthed, uncaring that I was making her stand naked before her bath, a most untypically cruel action for me.

"Then," she continued. "Once I had dressed myself in the garment, that did not cover me but pushed my tits up and pulled the lips of my sex apart, he tied me to straps that dangled from the pagan statues. I hung there from my wrists with my legs pulled wide apart and watched him undress. His cock was already rampant and had that powerful manly smell that always makes me juice up."

I remembered the smell when I visited him in the Red Room and recalled that it had a powerful effect on me too.

"Then he took a many tailed whip and beat me," she sobbed. "I screamed with every stroke, it was impossible not to, and I begged him to stop but he would not. He struck my back, my thighs and even my tits. When he had finished striking me he stuck his fingers into my sex and twisted my nipples until I was crying then pushed the whip into me. The handle was short and stubby but it had a big rounded end, bigger even than the head of his cock, and he rammed it into me again and again until it was covered in my juices. Then he shoved it into my bottom so that just the long leather straps dangled."

She looked very distressed now and cold. I finally took pity on her, "Get in the bath please Una. I will wash your back."

Una looked as if she was on the point of tears, but stepped into the warm water. She hugged her knees up to her chest and allowed me to soak her back. As I trickled the water over her, using a natural sponge, she began to relax. And I studied her nubile form which displayed the dreadful evidence of his attack. I wanted to know more and encouraged her to continue her tale saying, "What happened next?"

"I do not know if that was his intention," she whispered. "But where I was positioned I could, by sideways glances, see myself in the great mirror. I looked like an animal, for the whip in my bum resembled a tail. And the more I struggled in the straps the more it moved like a real tail. Then he fucked me, where I was, suspended between those dreadful statues, calling me his vixen and biting my nipples. Afterwards he unceremoniously pulled the whip from my bottom and threw my clothes at me. I was given no time to dress but was forced to run naked back to the Servants Quarters, where Bruno added to my misery by buggering me. I determined then I would run away."

I found this description both horrifying and erotic. My Father's nature was being revealed and I hoped I did not follow him down that path. I gave Una the sponge, saying, "Now, soak yourself for a while, but do not get too cold. Here are some towels, and there's a clean nightdress on the coffer."

"Thank you master Damion," she looked at me and, I hoped, did not see the way her story had made me aroused.

"Then," I said. "This doctor orders some sleep for you. We will deal with other things in the morning. But sleep well, and do not worry, for I'm sure Helena and I can help you."

I closed the door and went back to my book but Tom failed to take my mind off my Father, and the suffering he seemed quite happy to inflict. I sat, reading the same paragraph over and over, until the doorbell rang. I opened the door to greet Helena, noting with some satisfaction the young man with the torch who stood at the bottom of the steps watching his charge until she had safely entered the house. I threw him an extra silver coin to reward him, he flicked me a salute in exchange, and trotted off looking for another customer.

"We have a guest," I said. It seemed a good idea to tell Helena about Una straight away, "But first, how was your time with Freida?"

"I have learned a lot," she replied. "How to move, how to greet people of my new status, and we have written some interesting words. And I have learned more about Freida and her passions. She wishes us to visit on the evening of the 12th to continue our investigations into the disappearance of the old doctor and his daughter. But I am intrigued, who is our guest?"

"Una."

"Una," she looked puzzled. "The chambermaid from your father's house."

"Yes."

"Damion!" she winked at me, smiling widely. "I'm away for one evening and you find a new woman! Shall I throw myself out into the street?"

I explained how Una arrived, and her injuries, and Helena's expression hardened, saying, "We must help her, Damion."

"I have treated her," I explained. "She has had a bath, and is now sleeping."

"Then we should go to bed, sorry, we should retire ourselves," she seemed proud to use the higher class expression. "We can talk to her in the morning."

Clearly Freida had been tutoring Helena on the phrases a middle class lady would use. But, however expressed, I approved of the sentiment so, once Anya and Yani returned, we locked up and went to bed. As we climbed the stairs I anticipated possible passionate embraces, and wondered - just a little - what Helena had meant by being taught about Freida's 'passions'. Presumably it was her passion for clues.

It was a little while, a warm and passionate little while, before we broke from each others arms and settled to actually sleep. But, before we could drift off, the door quietly opened. I had left a candle burning, after the strange incident of the wolf in the cellar it seemed a good precaution and, by its light, I saw Una come in. I sat up.

"Hello Una, how can I help you?" I asked, trying to sound indifferent to this girl entering my bedroom. It was hard, she was wearing the nightdress Anya had put out for a guest and although it was a simple robe of ordinary cloth, it enhanced her breasts lifting them and pushing them together so that the mind thought of placing a rampant phallus between them.

Helena moved in the bed, throwing her arm over me protectively, or possibly possessively, and murmured, "Yes Una, how can we help?"

"Oh! Sorry! Oh!" said Una, then burst into tears. It took a few minutes for her to settle down. Una stood by the side of the bed, the bruises on her arms really starting to show now, an ugly flush under the scratches and cuts. Then she took a deep breath, "I came to offer myself to you Damion, as thanks for looking after me so nicely."

"You know you didn't have to do that," I said, reluctantly, for at the moment I couldn't think of anything more pleasurable.

"I do now, but I should have known after the kindness you showed me earlier."

Helena might be thinking of the medical treatment and bath, but I was remembering days earlier when she crept into my bed after my father had abused her, a tiny, broken, creature.

She looked at Helena, "Do you want me to leave the house? I wouldn't blame you."

Helena reached over and touched Una's arm, a gentle stroke. "Come to bed Una," she said kindly. "In the morning we will talk and see how we can help, but for now you have a debt to repay. It is a debt in your mind only, for we would not demand it, but sometimes the debts we impose on ourselves are as powerful as any put on us by others."

Helena flicked back the over sheet and blanket to invite Una in. She shuffled away from me a little way and pulled at my shoulder. I followed her lead and repositioned myself more centrally in the bed to make room. Una looked down at us then loosened the ties on her nightgown. It slithered to the floor revealing more of the cuts and bruises my Father had inflicted only hours earlier.

Time, and the cleansing effect of the bath, had not improved them. The bruises were more livid now as the blood darkened. It occurred to me that a full study of injuries such as these, properly reported and published in a book, might help future detectives in their efforts to understand events. Even after death there were changes in lividity with some bruises taking a day or so to appear. Bruises that might tell a useful story even after the victim was dead, a sort of silent witness to events.

"Ow," said Una, as she sat down on the bed and lifted her legs, sliding under the covers. "Sorry master Damion."

"The buttocks?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied. "The strokes your father made on my arse cheeks were very firm."