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    Six Historical Tales Vol. 2
    Six Historical Tales Vol. 2
    Six Historical Tales Vol. 2
    Ebook66 pages1 hour

    Six Historical Tales Vol. 2

    By Rayne Hall

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    About this ebook

    Six historical short stories by Rayne Hall.

    Terre Vert and Payne's Grey (1850)
    Captive (Ancient Greece)
    The Smell of Pancakes (1920)
    Arete (Ancient Greece)
    Ten Sixty-Six (1066)
    Prophetess (Ancient Greece)

    Most of these short stories have been previously published in magazines, ezines, collections and anthologies.

    British English.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRayne Hall Ltd
    Release dateJul 7, 2013
    ISBN9781501441301
    Six Historical Tales Vol. 2

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      Book preview

      Six Historical Tales Vol. 2 - Rayne Hall

      CONTENTS

      Terre Vert and Payne’s Grey (1850)

      Captive (Ancient Greece)

      The Smell of Pancakes (1920)

      Arete (Ancient Greece)

      Ten Sixty-Six (1066)

      Prophetess (Ancient Greece)

      TERRE VERT AND PAYNE’S GREY

      My bride's sleep-tangled tresses spill over her shoulders and chemise, titian red with hues of burnt sienna and yellow gold. She smiles at my adoring gaze and beckons. Will you help me dress?

      I rise to lace the back of her corset, previously a maid's duty, now a husband's privilege. Did you sleep well, my sweet?

      Too well. Didn't the innkeep promise this was a haunted chamber? Her torso expands in a yawn. No rattling chains, no hollow moans, not even a spooky light or waft of creepy mist.

      When no further yawn follows, I tighten the laces to fit the boned fabric snugly around her slender waist. The ghost may oblige another night.

      Else shrugs to show her disdain.

      I pull the curtains, open the window and hook the wooden shutters to the wall. Isn't this view magnificent? The half-timbered houses, the beech wood, the dark volcano cones against the sunrise, and look, there are lads driving the cattle to pasture in the meadow. Raw sienna yellow, a touch of flake white, deep cinnabar green...

      The morning sun basks Else's beauty in cool gold. I used to think it would be exciting, being married to a painter. Her laughter tinkles like a harpsichord, tinged with the discord of disappointment.

      Only a month ago, the same voice trilled with anticipation over the itinerary for our honeymoon. Guidebooks and maps of the Swiss-German border region thrilled her. But reality has not measured up to Else's hopes. Nothing I arranged to please her satisfied her appetite for thrills: not the journey on the paddle steamer, not the sublime sight of the Rhine Falls, not the joys of the marriage bed.

      We'll do something special today, I promise.

      Her chin snaps up, her eyes bright and hungry. What?

      The intended stroll along country lanes and a picnic in a summer meadow would not serve.

      It's a surprise, I improvise. Lifting her tresses, I kiss the nape of her alabaster neck. I'll finalise arrangements now while you attend your toilette.

      I trust the innkeep knows something that will thrill adventurous brides.

      *

      In the taproom, a kneeling maid is sweeping the floorboards. When I pass, she rises to dip a hasty curtsey, then resumes her toil.

      From the kitchen comes the clattering of the crockery. A freckled lad of about thirteen emerges, clad in lederhosen and a short-sleeved shirt, lugging buckets of steaming water.

      Good morning, sir. He touches his brown forelock, probably glad for the excuse to set the buckets down.

      I'm looking for Herr Scheuerle.

      Pa's still in bed, the lad says as if stating the obvious. Ma, too.

      Of course. Innkeepers work late hours and get their sleep in the morning.

      Can I be of help? He straightens, squares his shoulders and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his lederhosen. I'm in charge here in the mornings.

      Catering to his sense of importance, I nod gravely. I depend on your local knowledge for advice. Can you suggest something for visitors to do in the vicinity? Something exciting?

      The lad studies me with pursed lips. Would that be for yourself, sir, or for another party?

      Myself and my wife.

      Ladies like picnics, the lad suggests eagerly. I can get a hamper made up for you, with wheat rolls and cold meats and lemonade and cake.

      A charming idea - but perhaps you can think of something more... rousing?

      Boxing! His sap green eyes beam. Gustav the Giant versus Barnabas the Brawler, bare knuckles, at the Gasthaus zum Roten Hahn tonight. I bet that'll be a thrill. But seeing the party involves a lady... His voice trails off.

      I don't tell him I've taken Else to a boxing match, and it failed to excite her. So did the dog fight, the bear-baiting and the hanging of thieves.

      Most visitors see the ruins on the Hohentwiel or the Mägdeberg, he tries.

      We've seen both already. The Hoehenkrähen, too.

      He scratches his scalp, as if digging the finger into his store of knowledge. There's the ladies’ handicraft bazaar. Ladies like pretty things. The male voice choir performs, Ma likes them a lot, but that's not until Saturday. Oh, and on Sunday there's mass with a new sermon every week.

      Is there an unusual place for a picnic? Something... thrilling? Dangerous?

      If it was my mates, I would take them to the Hohenesgen. That's some scary place, I tell you. But with a lady...

      What's scary about it?

      A grin spreads across his

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