GRADE TEN STORY SELECTION

Patterns of a Gown

N. S.

Harold M. Brathwaite Secondary School
 

"Be seated," came the order.

Sable hair framed the stern man's face. Black eyes, akin to stars, were as cynical as his mouth and as calculating as his mind. He was Cepheus Khomen, named after a king of Greek mythology.

Cepheus folded his hands behind his back, head held high. Christoph avoided his piercing gaze.

"Your eighteenth year has passed, Christoph. Soon you shall take upon the assets and burdens of the Khomens. Thus it is that I have decided upon a wife for you." His voice echoed in the copious room, constricting Christoph with its intensity.

He shifted in the leather-clad chair. Christoph combed his fingers through black locks, hating its similarities with his father's. At least his eyes were azure like his mother's. He stiffened and his father continued.

"Even as we speak your mother writes. Your bride shall be here within days if all goes to plan."

"Father! I gave no such permission for this arrangement! Love is mine to find and give, not yours to force upon some wench!" Christoph rose, eyes narrowed, fists clenched.

"Silence boy! I will not be disrespected. There will be consequences should you defy me again." Cepheus' obsidian eyes glinted. "Be gone you ungrateful wretch."

Christoph pursed his lips and glared at his father. Love had never been given at the Khomen manor. Neither mother nor father knew how to give it. Their presence in his life was only of stern commandment.

The young man stormed out of the room. Only then did he allow himself to fall apart. A calloused hand threaded through his hair. It infuriated the man that his life had been planned for him once again.

A plan would be needed; it would be devised with the simplest solution, for a simple plan was the best one. A strategy began to form in his mind.

It was time to break free from his parents' grasp.

*****

Christoph snuck into his maid's room. She had been called for duty and had vacated earlier.

He couldn't help but swallow back the bile that threatened to rise. Christoph rummaged through her closet and pulled out a simple gown, cotton gloves and a worn girdle.

Christoph gathered the gown then returned to his room. He put his plan into action and gathered necessary possessions. They consisted of a small pouch of gold, a razor and a dagger.

Darkness fell upon the manor and Christoph decided that it was time. He breathed heavily as he shakily undressed. Shivers ran down his spine as he attempted to put on the girdle.

He looked into the mirror and shame flooded his cheeks as he, at last, properly fitted the constricting garment. Next was the dress. Christoph was relieved that the sleeves were long and hid his masculine arms. He glared at the mirror and saw more to the gown. Folds, creases, sequins, and embroidery covered the gown and its simplicity wavered. Underneath the outward look of a plain gown was a web of work. Christoph smiled sadly. The gown's hidden complexity suited his own convolution.

He pulled on the gloves to hide his hands and undid the tie securing his hair. It fell forward and would hide his face from view provided he kept his head ducked.

Christoph had no time to be disgusted with himself. The manor had two floors and unfortunately his room was on the second. The windows were just wide enough to let Christoph slip out of them. The man knotted his sheets together. He dropped one end down his window and secured the other to his sill.

It was not long before he was slowly sliding down the length of bed sheets. The chilly night air swept drafts of snow from the ground into the air. Christoph ran from the house thankful that the biting wind would cover his tracks with snow no matter how harsh it felt.

*****

For days he wandered through thick shrubbery. Branches snagged on the gown and nicked his limbs repeatedly. Three days had passed and hunger gnawed at his sides. He had only stopped to sleep.

It was a painstaking journey so far to freedom, and the young man was not sure whether he would make it or not. Shelter needed to be found quickly.

Christoph caught sight of a small village the next morning, capped with a plume of grey. He forced his legs into a run. The sight of a tavern eased his weary soul with hope, promising warmth for his tired body within.

In relief, the disguised man ignored the ice and grime-covered windows and eased the rough wooden door open. A sigh escaped his chapped lips. Christoph bowed his head and made his way towards the bar. He fished out some gold coins as a barmaid made her way to him.

"What can I get you m'dear?" she inquired.

"Madam, I need a room and some food if you please," Christoph spoke, voice rough. The barmaid passed this off as illness from the cold.

She took the coins. "It'll do for a couple of nights of rest and food."

At the mention of food, Christoph licked his bleeding lips. The barmaid motioned for Christoph to follow her. They walked up crude wooden stairs and down a hallway.

"Right in here if you will. I'll bring you supper." She smiled and left.

A grin crossed Christoph's drawn features. His skin although dry was warmed from the heat. Faith had restored itself within him. He had a few days to make a plan. He could not stay hidden as a woman forever.

In a moment of carelessness, he brushed back his hair. The door opened and the barmaid entered the room. Her bowl of soup and bread cluttered to the floor when she saw Christoph.

"Impersonator! Help!" she screamed.

Christoph's eyes widened in horror as a burly male stalked in. His gaze was furious. Without warning the runaway found himself being thrown over a shoulder. In his frail state, Christoph could only struggle weakly.

A small crowd had gathered in the pub to see what the fuss was about. When they caught sight of Christoph's face their expressions darkened. It was very offensive to dress as the opposite sex.

The stocky man stomped towards the cellar. Christoph trembled with cold as the doors slammed shut. The man was terrified. He had been so close to his dream.

What will become of me? Will I be returned to Father and forced to marry? Perhaps they ...  no, I mustn't think like that.

Christoph's breath came in ragged gasps as his trembling body leant against the wall. None of the consequences for impersonating a woman would be lenient. He could not bear any more pain from his own mentality. Arguing with oneself brings forth issues that one does not wish to discuss. The panic overwhelmed him and he slumped to the ground in exhaustion.

*****

The tavern doors flew open. Two upper-side officers had arrived. Their heads were raised high, their postures stiff and formal.

"Has an unknown man passed town?" questioned the shorter officer. His companion brandished a scroll for the villagers to read:

WANTED

Christoph Khomen of the Khomen family is wanted for illegally breaking a contract. Cepheus Khomen and Solace Khomen have formally disowned Christoph for his treachery and cowardice. This man maybe dangerous and in disguise. Any sightings should be reported immediately.

A picture of Christoph was sketched underneath the note. Gasps threaded through the horde. In the cellar lay the very man the upper-side wanted.

The barmaid nodded towards the cellar. "In there."

With a grunt the taller officer wrenched open the doors and entered the frosty room. Christoph was lying on the ground, unconscious. The taller officer draped him over his horse and mounted it. The officers inclined their heads in gratitude and rode onward.

*****

Blue eyes opened in confusion. Where was he? After a moment's studying he realized he was in a cell. There seemed to be no way out except for a wooden door. They had found him. The next few hours passed by in slow contemplation.

Christoph screamed and pulled at his hair. There was nothing left for him, nowhere he could go. He had no goal but to obtain freedom. With an angry snarl he started pounding the door. Tremors wracked his fists as he slowly sank to the ground. What did his future hold?

Two days had passed before the sound of footsteps reached him. Dressed in shades of grey, four upper-side officers had come. From behind them stepped out a wizened man. His creased face held no mercy. Cold grey eyes, much like Cepheus', stared at Christoph.

"Christoph, formerly of the Khomen lineage, you are hereby accused of crimes against State and King and against Nature and God. It is alleged that you chose a course of treason by defying your family and the State by avoiding a binding contract of marriage to a woman and, furthermore, impersonated a woman to aid your escape and indulge in sinful pleasures. Do you deny these crimes?"

"No sir, but ..."

"Then you are hereby found to be guilty of sodomy and homosexuality and shall be hanged by the neck till dead." He left promptly with the officers.Christoph's eyes shuttered before he fell into darkness.

Three days passed with many tears shed and many thoughts formed. Christoph did not want to die but what other choice did he have? But, he did have a choice. Death would give him his own path to follow. His fate was almost akin to a story he had heard:

"... and two men were given a choice of two doors to decide their objective of death. The first door would let them die on their own terms, honourable men. The second would give them the painless death which would bestow shame upon their name. The first calmly approached his door, while the second exclaimed in horror as he was forcefully thrown through the other door. The first man smiled with happiness as he was shown a path to a new life; his body never touched death. The second man howled in anguish as his body was beaten and disgraced leaving him with no dignity and eternal abyss."

Christoph could die on his own terms, with acceptance, or he could die a felon. It was his choice to decide.

The door opened and the officers pulled him to his feet. Christoph shook as they marched out of the cell. His mind was still reeling from his earlier thoughts.

They had now left the cold dungeons of prison and entered the outside world in its pale light. Snowflakes fell from the heavens as Christoph was pushed forward. The crowd that had gathered to watch the proceedings jeered. A jerky sob tore itself out of the young man's throat.

"I'm innocent," Christoph pleaded, blinking his tears away.

Two law enforcers held Christoph while the other two placed the noose around his neck. Christoph felt the cold of the snowflakes, the pricking of the rope, and the rough hands of the officers. He found a new sense of acceptance. It took him from his surroundings and led him deep into the dark of his soul.

The crowd froze, the officers slowed, the snow fell, and Christoph felt this mysterious feeling within him. A smile of hope, of beauty transformed his blue lips into something wonderful. The officers pushed him forward onto the plank. The end came nearer but it was not in the form of light. It was in the form of a snowflake, a gown, a pattern to be precise. His smile spread as his feet left the plank.

Freedom at last.