Read Online The Medea Complex by Rachel Florence Roberts - Free Book Online
Authors: Rachel Florence Roberts
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sandwich.
"Anne, please don't eat so fast, those sandwiches are
meant to last. And will you kindly stop being rude about Grace?"
"She can't hear me," I say. "Though perhaps
you imagine that dressing us up in such mock finery will entice us all to beg
our families to pay you the ransom, is that it? Well, I'm just here for the
free food." I purposefully pick up another three sandwiches and stuff them
all in my mouth at once.
"Anne..."
"Schsmsugfh." I say, showing her the contents of
the half chewed up bread.
I swallow.
"I can't imagine why they bother. Did the ransom money
pay for such a mockery of a feast? And the band is truly terrible," I say,
watching them. Five idiots; all liars, thieves and robbers. None can play a
tune."I hope for your sake that their hostage taking skills are better
than their musical talent." Turning my back on Agnus, I pick up another
four sandwiches and make my way over to one of the longer trestle tables, atop
which stand dozens of different colored bottles containing various coloured
liquids and towers of cups. I fill two with something brown and bubbly; and
pour one into a nearby potted plant. I wait a moment. Satisfied, I drink the
remaining cup quickly and ditch both empty cups onto the floor underneath the
table. The squashed sandwiches in my hand meet the same fate, making a sad
looking picnic indeed.
There must be thirty-some people in here, possibly even
forty. Difficult to tell, as everybody is moving, dancing, walking, mingling,
making my eyes cross and blur. They are all dressed in various states of
eccentricity: some are still in their green linen gowns, and others are wearing
'normal', non-convict clothes. Some must be drunk because they keep falling
over, and shouting. Bewilderingly, a cup flies past my head and I duck, looking
around to see who the perpetrator of such a pointless exercise could be, but
see no-one.
Loathe as I am to admit it to Agnus, at this point in time
I'm rather unsteady on my feet. The confusion generated by not knowing who is
who hurts my head, yet I am becoming aware of something.
This is a double edged sword.
This ball is a perfect opportunity for me to escape! For
most surely, if I am unsure of whom they are, they must equally be confused as
to who I am.
Incompetent fools. Why hold a ball for your hostages? Serves
them right if all of us escape.
Aha!
A plan forms inside of my head.
I think back to the window in my cell, the one with bars
across it.
I look at the windows here, in this large room. They don't
have any bars across. But even if I managed to smash one of them, at least
twenty jailors would be on me before I could make a move towards freedom.
Hmm.
Weapons seem to be inconspicuously absent, but there must be
one somewhere.
Pretending to be absorbed in the music, I stand at the side
of the room, humming to myself, making it appear to all who might be watching
me that I am simply observing the dancers. I put a smile on my face: essential,
after all, for a ball. Without turning my head away, I let my eyes wander
further. A few more bird cages, some useless plants. Same story as the
corridors. No, I cannot attack anyone here, I would be swiftly thwarted. What would
I do anyway, release a lark fly into their face?
"Missus, would ye do me the honour t'dance with
me?" A man emerges from the crowd and stands in front of me. Bending
forward in a respectful bow, he motions to me with a slight movement of his
right hand. He no doubt presumed I was waiting to be asked; poor, deluded
creature. I am inclined to refuse his invitation: his obviously common accent
doesn't help matters, yet maybe...
Could he help me?
And anyway, it is bad manners to mar the pleasures of others,
and he is dressed beautifully; from his black waistcoat, tailored trousers and
white vest to his black cravat. Though by no means handsome, he could be a
diversion.
"With pleasure, Sir." I hold out one of my gloved
hands, and he elegantly takes it, leading me onto the
"Anne, please don't eat so fast, those sandwiches are
meant to last. And will you kindly stop being rude about Grace?"
"She can't hear me," I say. "Though perhaps
you imagine that dressing us up in such mock finery will entice us all to beg
our families to pay you the ransom, is that it? Well, I'm just here for the
free food." I purposefully pick up another three sandwiches and stuff them
all in my mouth at once.
"Anne..."
"Schsmsugfh." I say, showing her the contents of
the half chewed up bread.
I swallow.
"I can't imagine why they bother. Did the ransom money
pay for such a mockery of a feast? And the band is truly terrible," I say,
watching them. Five idiots; all liars, thieves and robbers. None can play a
tune."I hope for your sake that their hostage taking skills are better
than their musical talent." Turning my back on Agnus, I pick up another
four sandwiches and make my way over to one of the longer trestle tables, atop
which stand dozens of different colored bottles containing various coloured
liquids and towers of cups. I fill two with something brown and bubbly; and
pour one into a nearby potted plant. I wait a moment. Satisfied, I drink the
remaining cup quickly and ditch both empty cups onto the floor underneath the
table. The squashed sandwiches in my hand meet the same fate, making a sad
looking picnic indeed.
There must be thirty-some people in here, possibly even
forty. Difficult to tell, as everybody is moving, dancing, walking, mingling,
making my eyes cross and blur. They are all dressed in various states of
eccentricity: some are still in their green linen gowns, and others are wearing
'normal', non-convict clothes. Some must be drunk because they keep falling
over, and shouting. Bewilderingly, a cup flies past my head and I duck, looking
around to see who the perpetrator of such a pointless exercise could be, but
see no-one.
Loathe as I am to admit it to Agnus, at this point in time
I'm rather unsteady on my feet. The confusion generated by not knowing who is
who hurts my head, yet I am becoming aware of something.
This is a double edged sword.
This ball is a perfect opportunity for me to escape! For
most surely, if I am unsure of whom they are, they must equally be confused as
to who I am.
Incompetent fools. Why hold a ball for your hostages? Serves
them right if all of us escape.
Aha!
A plan forms inside of my head.
I think back to the window in my cell, the one with bars
across it.
I look at the windows here, in this large room. They don't
have any bars across. But even if I managed to smash one of them, at least
twenty jailors would be on me before I could make a move towards freedom.
Hmm.
Weapons seem to be inconspicuously absent, but there must be
one somewhere.
Pretending to be absorbed in the music, I stand at the side
of the room, humming to myself, making it appear to all who might be watching
me that I am simply observing the dancers. I put a smile on my face: essential,
after all, for a ball. Without turning my head away, I let my eyes wander
further. A few more bird cages, some useless plants. Same story as the
corridors. No, I cannot attack anyone here, I would be swiftly thwarted. What would
I do anyway, release a lark fly into their face?
"Missus, would ye do me the honour t'dance with
me?" A man emerges from the crowd and stands in front of me. Bending
forward in a respectful bow, he motions to me with a slight movement of his
right hand. He no doubt presumed I was waiting to be asked; poor, deluded
creature. I am inclined to refuse his invitation: his obviously common accent
doesn't help matters, yet maybe...
Could he help me?
And anyway, it is bad manners to mar the pleasures of others,
and he is dressed beautifully; from his black waistcoat, tailored trousers and
white vest to his black cravat. Though by no means handsome, he could be a
diversion.
"With pleasure, Sir." I hold out one of my gloved
hands, and he elegantly takes it, leading me onto the
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