Luring Her In

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay

Oddly enough, the Patron’s Daughter never admitted to rejection.

She spoke of the Noble Son every day, her tone peevish as she complained of his desertion. That was how she thought of his going home without asking her to marry him.

She mourned the loss of pride and the embarrassment her family endured.

She never expressed any longing for the Noble Son, or heartbreak that he hadn’t returned her affection. She was furious that a man she would have willingly married hadn’t wanted to marry her.

As the Patron’s Daughter complained to me daily, I learned that the lamented loss she suffered was her reputation of perfect unattainability.

As the man who didn’t care to succeed where so many men had failed, the Patron’s Daughter was obsessed with marrying the Noble Son simply to regain her cherished sense of self.

I was disgusted.

And of course, I had moments of malice. I relished that poison coursing through me as I listened to the frets and grievances of the Patron’s Daughter.

Yet, getting to know her had a bizarre effect on me.

Of course, I didn’t like her any better. The Patron’s Daughter was everything I’d always thought her to be.

Being in her confidence, I discovered how vapid she was. She lacked intelligence as well as common sense.

Not only did I understand why the Noble Son “abandoned” her, as she put it, I marveled that she had actually spurned so many suitors before him.

As beautiful as she was to look at, the Patron’s Daughter was an irritating, tedious bore. Once I knew that, it was impossible to envy her.

Listening to her, I also learned about the perils of vanity. The wisdom of that awareness would be invaluable to my future.

In the Life, I never fell into the pitfalls of lavish praise most women are vulnerable to. I enjoyed and received the ridiculous compliments that came my way, but I never took flattery seriously. As the years passed, I would witness the fall of several beautiful and even talented courtesans simply because vanity had been their weakness.

To return to the Patron’s Daughter, she made it easy for me to betray her since she was always rather horrid to me during our walks and talks.

As the Sorcerer had said, I didn’t matter enough for hatred. And I was too unimportant for courtesy as well.

Once the shock of rejection had worn off, her self-pity became anger, and I was the sack of meal she chose to pound on.

She never laid a hand on me physically, but the Patron’s Daughter was snide and insulting, and it galled me to tolerate these personal assaults.

So many times, I drew blood from my tongue restraining the urge to say what I really thought.

Instead, I clucked like a chicken full of sympathetic noises like a groveling handmaiden, and despised myself for it.

Every few days, the Sorcerer would appear out of nowhere.

He never asked questions, and he always suggested ways to increase her trust.

After one particularly vexing walk, I was in no mood for fresh ideas to get closer to the Patron’s Daughter.

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

“Just once, I’d love to tell her off! Maybe even smack her face.”

“You will do no such thing, Addie.”

“My tongue is sore and bloody from biting it so much.”

“I don’t care if your tongue becomes thick with callouses. You will continue being all that is agreeable, even grateful to be in her confidence.”

I opened my mouth to protest. But the Sorcerer held up his hand.

“That is what she expects from you. In her mind, you have no right to treat her with contempt. You do that even once, and you will never get another chance.”

“Why do you even want to seduce her so much? If you spent the time with her as I did, I bet you’d think her rather ugly after a while.”

The Sorcerer laughed, his long, yellowed teeth gleaming.

“I’m sure that’s true. But I’m not interested in her personality.”

I shook my head, while the Sorcerer tilted his head to one side.

“Would putting the Patron’s Daughter in her place really be worth the opportunity lost? I suppose that depends on how badly you want this.”

“You want this every bit as much as I do. She’s not even worth it!”

“None of this is about want, Addie, this is about need, especially yours. There will always be plenty of foolish girls, and I don’t have a vital need to seduce the Patron’s Daughter. It’s your fate that depends on this, not mine.”

His baritone voice penetrated me and echoed inside.

But even worse was the gaze that never wavered. I don’t think he ever blinked.

As I said before, I was never afraid of the Sorcerer of the Caverns. But looking into those empty eyes of his made my innards curdle.

“You need this, Addie. If the Patron’s Daughter doesn’t succumb, you get nothing.”

And there was no arguing with the truth.

For all his ideas, the Sorcerer could not advise me on what to do to bring the Patron’s Daughter to him.

All he would say is that some things could not be planned or connived. I would have to recognize her moment of weakness and act on it.

As usual, the Sorcerer was right.

Over the following weeks, I met the Patron’s Daughter after long, hard days working the fields. I held my tongue, nodded as she groused, and ignored her abuses.

Ironically, that perfect moment came from my suppressed annoyance.

I was in a dreadful mood when I met her that day.

The peak of summer was viciously hot, and working the fields had been pure misery. Even the most stoic of workers cursed as we dragged hoes, pulled weeds, and drenched the earth with our sweat. I almost passed out, and several others did.

So there was no holding my tongue when I met with the Patron’s Daughter, who was especially petulant that day.

“Aren’t you getting bored yet?” I snapped. “Do you ever think about what you want, or do you simply like to complain?”

I can still remember the pitch of vexation in my voice. What I said made me both aghast and thrilled. I held my breath, waiting for her to lash out, stalk off, slap me, or anything to show that I had blown it.

Her small blue eyes grew wide for a moment. Then she glared at me.

I had clearly offended her, yet she didn’t storm off in indignation.

“What!”

“If you want to marry the Noble Son that much, I know somebody who might be able to help you.”

“That’s laughable! How could you possibly know anybody who could help me marry the Noble Son?”

“The same way I came to know all your secret sorrows.”

The Patron’s Daughter sneered at me and turned her back.

I almost panicked when she started to walk away, but I knew what to do. What I said next made me squirm with self-loathing for days, but it sealed my change in destiny.

“People confide in me because I don’t matter. Just like you do.”

This excerpt is out of my work-in-progress, The Shepherd and the Courtesan. If you’d like to read a previous piece, click HERE.

From 2005 - On the Book Tour in Alaska: Suckers for Cutsie Poo and Unexpected Good Dates

Before I get too carried away, let me just say one thing...next time in Anchorage, check out El Tango on Tudor behind the Holiday gas station.  If you've gone to Hooters you have definitely gone too far!  El Tango has a fantastic menu of latin cuisine - Columbia, Argentina, and Puerto Rico - a very friendly staff and a small dance floor.  It's only been there for a year, the location sucks, but if you like your ambience refreshing, then this is the place for you.  

Last night at Cook Inlet, I was one of a cluster fuck of writers.  Needless to say, we were overcrowded at one small table, so we got another one and two of us sat there.  I figured stake out the front door and get more attention, but everybody still herded around the schoolteacher at the other table, with a mountain of her "Recess at 20 Below," full of pictures of her students having FUN in her class and adorable narrative about school life in Delta Junction.  It was very cutsie poo.

Meanwhile, I misread a possible fan, Sheila, and told her the first chapter of Ella Bandita, complete with the dirty old sorcerer, the cold-blooded daddy, and the eaten heart.  Sheila then let me know that she was a fan of Walt Disney version of fairy tales and that she used to have a friend who would have been into my writing because she wrote a lot like me.

"But she's dead now," Sheila said.

So nice of her to tell me that.

Do I sound bitter?  Really, I'm not.

At this point in my road trip, I have had enough successes to not sweat the flops.  Besides, last night was a quality, if not a quantity, experience.  I ended up with a date.  A good one, too.  With the nice guy.

Go figure, that never happens to me.  I usually gravitate to the those-I-cannot-or-should-not-even-consider-wanting-to-have types.  This one has a steady job, no addictions ( at least, not obvious ones ), courtly manners, good body, and blue eyes that are awful purty to look into.

That's how I ended up at El Tango.  Besides the food and the Argentinian staff, they had a keyboard player whose keyboard created a symphony with every note, and the staff would get up there and sing.  Since they didn't have the tv screen enabling bad singers to massacre mediocre lyrics, it wasn't really karaoke, but it kind of felt that way.  Since the staff were the main singers, most of the songs were in spanish, so it was very cool.  It also helped that they could...oh, sing.  Hugo, the owner who was from Argentina, played kind of the lating version of a bluegrass washboard - a weegel ( I don't know how to spell it, and the closest he could come to describing it was a plant kind of like a zucchini, that's dried and then hollowed out - if you want to know what the hell I'm talking about, go there and you'll see), while the bartender had maracas.

I love latin folk, they really have the happy to live mentality down pat.  Hugo gave us free drinks, calling us amigos and that we are family.

"When you are in Anchorage, this is your home."  Hugo said.

Nothing is perfect, however...

Hugo is a sucker for Celine Dion, because his daughter, Lilly, belted out "I Will Always Love You," and he sat there looking emotional.

But other than that, it was awesome.

I was coming back on Tuesday, but my good date asked me out again, so...

I'm coming back to Juneau roughly sometime around before I head down to the lower forty eight by November 1st.  Does anybody have a housesitting gig or an extra room?  I rented my place out and I don't know about crashing on my own couch for almost two weeks.  It'll be good to see the Vagabond - my cat, that is.  And of course, all of you.

Get Ready to LAUNCH!

With the start of September I'm ready to announce the release of the final ebook in the Ella Bandita and the Wanderer story. For my loyal readers, I'm offering it FREE today and tomorrow only!  

Despite growing up with the Bard's warnings to always follow his heart, the Wanderer loses to Ella Bandita, who curses him to the unfamiliar life of the Wolf. Tormented by memories of his life as a man, the Wolf is overcome with grief and unspeakable loneliness. One day, the Wolf takes solace from the music of a fiddle well played. And thus, the Wolf finds some kind of salvation in the friendship of the Shepherd who spares his life. But the Shepherd has stories and a secret of his own. Together, the Shepherd and the Wolf form an unusual friendship. Each of them will be tested as their journey brings them back to the Sorcerer's Caverns, where the nameless daughter of the Patron sold her heart for a change of destiny and a chance at love.

There, they will meet again, Ella Bandita and the Wanderer.