Hotel California IV

“Where have we taken on this trail? I see no end to it.” I leaned over upon my saddle to look further on the track we took. It was a forest we entered into and the trees with the canopies of leaves lent a gloomy outlook to the journey. I could not see far from my seated position, with the tree trunks barring my scene, and the ground was wet and covered with dead leaves or discarded branches. The air was dry when it was to be cold that time of the year then was heat. The heat that would normally be felt during the hot summer season.

“Squire, how are you faring there?” I have a squire as befitting a knight which I was christened by the King himself at his palace. I had donned the armor that once belonged to my father and fought the barbarians at the plains. I slaughtered and then hunted them in their retreat to the rivers. There I stood with the archers to release the arrows onto the fleeing invaders.

“We caught them with their tails between the legs.” The local militias were assembled by my calling. We could not wait for the King’s army; they ride too slow and slower to assemble. The militias were of the local folks whose livelihood was to be taken by the invaders. I called on them to group under my banner. They questioned my banner.

“Who is the Earl of Arc? We heard only of the witch that was burned at Rouen, in English controlled Normandy. She was burned on the accusation of heresy.

“I am not the likes of Joan the Maid. I am English and a maid not by the house rules, but the name was given to me by my father as the Maid of Lochley. I was born to him by my mother when he expected a son. He was saddened by my birth for it also took my mother’s life. He had me raised as a boy and then a man. I was given the tasks befitting his successor. I learned how to ride, to shoot the arrow, to hold the sword and above all, to kill like a man. I am my father’s son. I ride with his banner; the fierce dragon with the breath of fire. My father is ill and his son has taken his role. His land will not be plundered this year. I will defend it.”

“How can we believe you when you hold the hole to birth children?” I heard the peasant who insulted me. I rode towards the burly man and kicked him in the face. I then drew my sword and leveled it at his groin.

“Insult me one more time, and I will have a walk with your balls hung by your neck.” No one else dared to challenge me but the assembled then was only a dozen farmers and shepherds. They were armed with sickle and hoes, and some were with bows and arrows. I rode out with them and hunted the barbarians. Our first battle was easy; four barbarians were taken alive and we roast them over the open fire where their voice found mercy soon after we slit their throats. Our second encounter was based on the words of their dead friends. It was a bigger group of twenty but we attacked when they were resting. The archers took down the guards for the shepherds were hunters of the forest. They sneaked in and snared their traps. Then we surrounded the camp and I rode in like the Horseman from Hell. I swung my sword and deflected the blows. I was joined by the dozen with their tools. We were the victors that attack. Only five escaped our dragnet but we have weapons. The dozen then became the warriors. The ‘twelve apostles’ they were called and soon we hold a following of a hundred and the hunt became more intense. We had no less than six attacks before the barbarians took to retreat. The war was over and I rode back to my home. It was a tiring ride.

“Maid, are you well? You did not hear me when I told you about the road.” My squire brought me back to our woes. I leaned over to speak to him. Bacon of Lochley was my childhood friend. He was taller than me and build like an ox. He was the son of the kitchen cook, and when he was to be named, his father called him Bacon.

“He will make the best slices of bacon in this county.” Bacon did for he was a smart butcher. He knew how to kill the bull and sliced off the portions. He was also good at smoking them in the smokehouse. When he was not doing the meatier works, he was my companion. We fought, we trained and then we felt the feeling between us but the separation of our social status kept us apart. I have declared my love to Bacon in the hayloft some summers back. He promised to take care of me forever. And I promised to take him with me wherever I will go. Bacon was handy with the butcher knife and so was his skills with the ax. His swings were fast and strong when he hacked the barbarians. I loved the way he does it; the movement of his body reminded me of our mating sessions. He was so passionate into it.

“I said we are lost.” Bacon reply to me. I agreed with him.

“We will ride till the sunset over the trees.” I peeked up and looked in between the canopies of leaves. It was on the lowering towards the western side. It was then I saw the clearing in front. It cheered me up. I told Bacon we will be fine in the clearing. The earnest in us to leave the forest sped us up. Soon, we reached the clearing. It was not any clearing but a huge tract of land with the horizon its boundary. What surprised me was the huge manor on the plains. It was double level and held like ten windows on each level with a double door for the entrance. There were another two horses, two strange looking carriage with wheels but horses to it. I could make smoke from the five chimneys there.

It was inhabited.

I read the sign that was hung on the stand outside.

Welcome to Hotel California.

It was not the place I would ignore to spend the night on a woeful day.

“We have a new guest.” I heard the voice when we stepped in. “Welcome. You complete the circle needed.”

I was facing a huge hall with the curved stairways to the next level. It was the reception hall of the manor. There was a man standing there dressed in a strange suit with the dark jacket that had double tails and the striped bottoms with the white shirt and sandals that covered their feet. It was unusual for the clothing was fitting and well sewn. The man was semi bald but he had on the round-rimmed transparent mirrors on the nose.

“I am Bentley. I am the caretaker of the house. Please step in.” The man looked towards my armour. I looked tough in the iron fittings, but my pointed footwears were covered in mud.

“Do use the room to the rear to remove your …. armor. Its un …. Pardon me …. in here, we prefer to be informal.” The man motioned to me. “Your squire may attend to you.”

I proceeded on with the sense of guilt of the trail of mid but soon I was in the room with my squire. It was a simple room with rows of small shelves. There was also a tub there with warm water. I held out my arms to the side, and my squire did his duty. It was so different to be undress by your lover than the servants who does it without a thought of your body’s reactions. Bacon took the metal gloves, the metal greaves, and then he unlatched the shoulder cover. He then moved to my waist to unlatch the chest plates. My arms tired and I lowered it down. I reached out for Bacon’s chest and rubbed his tired body. I wanted to warm him up.

The chest and the backplates came loose and he pulled it off me over the head. I had to raise my arms when he did that. He took the metal plates to placed them on the flooring. I was in my woollen vest there on the top. It was dirty and smelled of sweats but I had to feel him. I held out my arms to pull him towards me. He laid his head onto the nape of my neck and kissed me. I leaned back and felt the lips trailed my neck to the left shoulder. He then stopped his kisses and reached to remove the hips latches. He had it undone and let the pieces fall. That was the final pieces to be done. I watched him unlatched the bottoms pieces and then the feet cover. It was interconnected and to fully remove it I needed to be seated. I took to the tub side and balanced my body on it. Bacon slipped the bottoms off and I was free of my armor.

My masculine cover towards my feminine side.

I was the Maid no more. I was Arthur Anne of Lochley. Arthur was the name supposed to be given to his son. And Anne was my mother’s name.

I watched Bacon stored my armour seated there with only the vest. I wanted to get into the hot tub but a part of me wanted something else. I spread my legs and snaked my right hand into my vest. I cupped my left breast and caressed it. My left hand reached between my legs and moved inside. I was getting ready for Bacon. He saw me when he turned around. I could tell the look in his face. He was tired but then with the sight of me, we were strengthened by the urges. Bacon wore only the knee-length tunic and sandals on his feet. His belt around his waist held his knife in the sheath. I could see the urge of his rising then.

“Unsheathe, Squire.” I told him.

“As you command, my Knight.”

The tub was wide and huge for two weary bodies in the need to mate. I was devoured by the desire while he ravaged my body with his. I had felt every thrust from him, the pull of his fingers and the kneading on my tired muscles. I was submitting to him as he had submitted to me as my Squire. In the tub, I was his servant of the flesh. I became the bacon from the pig; salted and smoked to perfection. 

“Our new guest had arrived.” The man with the transparent mirror on the nose announced our arrival to the Dining Hall. We were pre-occupied for an hour but we feigned the excuse of sleep. I was given a dress to put on. It was a loose shift with some flower motif and some odd sandals. Bacon was in turn given a white blouse and tight bottoms with the same sandals. I approached the long dining table. It was stacked with food and drinks. I had seen such a feast when we held the banquet for the guests.

“The new guest is Arthur Anne of Lochley. Her companion is her squire, Bacon of Lochley.” The man introduced us.

“Enough of the subtle games. I am Hauptmann Bertha Mueller of the Waffen-SS.” The lady introduced herself. She was dressed in the dark uniform of the Waffen-SS and her rank was on the shoulder pips. Her hair was dark and combed back to tie into a bun.

“I was driving in my official wagen to Munich when we drove into the unrecorded route. It was my driver’s fault and he paid the price for it. He lies dead in the forest. I shot him for his incompetence. I drove on and arrived here an hour ago. I was the first to test the schnapps. And where are the sauerkrauts? I dislike bacon." 

“I am Harry Milligan. I am a solicitor from Manchester. I don’t know who I arrived here. I was in the car and then next I knew I was on the road here. It was all I know.” The man who claimed to be a solicitor was dressed like one; the Saville Row design and cut. And leather shoes from Milan. He held a glass of sherry in his hand.

“Funny how he lies without a blink of the eyes.” I turned to look at the man who brought us there. “Lying won’t get you any credit here, Mr. Milligan before turning to me. “Mr. Mulligan is a killer by profession. He is an assassin for the hire. He specialized in guns. Glocks or Brownings, or SIG. But he held an affinity for the old Luger pistol. The P38 is his gun for the close and personal kill. You killed your wife’s lover with it. Was it up the crotch? Naughty of you.”

“Si, that is a bad way to die. You lose your balls, you lose your manhood, and you lost it all for the next life. You come back a ‘puta’.” The third person there voiced out. He was dressed in the soldier uniform of the old army. The very old army; the buttoned-up jacket with the plaids and the striped bottoms and knee-high boots. He had on a waist belt with the sword and the lead ball pistols.

“Colonel Mendez Anton Diaz of the Mexican Army of Emperor Maximillian.” The Colonel has a thick mustache above his lips and the oil-slicked hair on his head. “I am surprised to be here but the pitas are delicious.”

“I disliked the talking. When can we see the action?”

“Ahmad Tarim lately of the Persian Royal Lancers.” The Middle Eastern held a tall slim frame, and his uniform was almost similar to the Colonel but that design was Napoleonic.

“All in due time. Al, of you before they have been kept waiting but we had your favorite drinks served. Shall we now take the main, please? My Master insists on it.” I looked at the man who was attending to us. I joined the others at the table.

“Please, feast.” The feast was satisfying. Once we were done. We were told to move to the Library next door. That hall was equally impressive with the shelves of volumes and the huge fireplace but what intrigued me was the paintings there. It displayed the scenes of macabre killings. I looked away and then saw my sword, Bacon’s knife, and ax, and the others had retrieved their own weapons not previously on their bodies.

“We are well now. You will now meet my master.”

The music then resonated in the library.

And in the master's chambers
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives
But they just can't kill the beast

The flame on the fire at the fireplace streaked out and then formed a shape. It was the Beast.

The man with the transparent mirrors closed the Library door.

The battle was done after several hours.

I opened the door and stepped out. I was holding Bacon in my arms. He was wounded and so was myself but the wounds will heal like the many I had in the previous battle. I lowered Bacon on the flooring and saw the man who brought us in standing there.

“Mistress, you will do well. You will be our Mistress till after the next twelve moons. Welcome to the Hotel.” The man looked towards Bacon. “We will take care of him and he will heal. As for the others, we will dispose of the bodies into the fire.”

“Man, with the mirrors on the nose. I want you in the fire too. Your service is not required anymore. Bacon will suffice for that.” I am after all the Mistress of the Hotel. I survived after many rounds that the crypt told me the ashes of the dead needed to be disposed into the Styx River. I was good at my role.

The rule has never to underestimate the lady. She can bite harder. Not in her manor. Not when she was a fucking bitch for bacon.