Staring down the wobbly uneven cobbled streets, Nick Bottom's townhouse provided quite the view. Though standing at the tallest apartment, it didn't quite clear the height of the one fortified building in the town, where I was told the majority of the women were kept for their own safety. Alongside the vampire guards. Nick and Starveling both shared an adjoining townhouse of multiple layers of apartments and studios, filled with boys and girls and an array of equipment and both raw and produced materials. From soaking cloth from the sheathed wool of a flock to the drying flaxen bundles attempting in vain to dry in the winter's sun on the balconies. Dyed fibres with the overwhelming stench of vinegar brought tears to my eyes, that I couldn't admire the array of colours strewn over the balcony fences. Scattered throughout the long studio were looms prepped for weaving and mannequins pinned in precarious needle pin torture for a new bodice to be made. The workers looked to both masters in guidance of their craft and art, and with patient, encouraging words they carried on in their work. The youths had been working since sunrise. The tradesmen were clearly the masters of their craft but weren't completely trusted with the town's youth, all older than twelve but none younger. I hadn't seen a single child since leaving the tavern with my newest allies. The black uniformed guard constantly watched us with renewed interest. Dressed in the darkest black leather jerkin and matching breeches and boots, a stark contrast to his honey blonde hair. I kept half an eye out as he made numerous rounds through the studios. Perplexed that the children didn't seem disturbed by his pompous presence, I kept my head down to avoid suspicion as my eyes wept at the laborious task.
"Don't take it too personally," Starveling whispered, having snuck Antonio and I through the back door to the tallest studio. Busying ourselves with cleaning equipment as the guard patrolled. "Sustainer Demetrius doesn't like working the day shift. But he does get to admire the view of the ladies, especially lady Hermia." The guard snarled from across the studio, head snapping in Starveling's direction. Even without seeing his eyes, such intense rage fired on us, in a warning not to test his patience.
With Antonio back to wearing his skinned glamour and our muddy shirts removed to clean equipment without Demetrius's suspicions, I fought the indignity of performing a workman's job. Nick was preoccupied in their stock room calculating all they needed to make up for their smuggling, hence our cover to mingle with the workers. Father would've died laughing if he saw me now, elbow deep in dyed vinegar to help a criminal enterprise. Some relief did cool my temper that no one here would pass on such an image to him. No one knew me. However, what was left of my identity, I knew that nobility resided within. The weaver finally returned clutching newly washed lien shirts, jerkins and ye olde faithful: breeches. I shuddered, craving for the familiar trousers that were far more comfortable, though they weren't practical for this winter chill. Nick waited for the opportune moment when finally, Demetrius descended the stairs out of sight but not of hearing, curtesy to the thin floorboards. Starveling nodded to a filled barrel of cool water, gesturing to wash quietly. Antonio didn't need to be told twice, practically jumping to remove such odour from his vulnerable skin. I hated cold bathing, but with little choice, I plunged my reluctant hands to start cleaning. My face was beginning to swell from Bianco's beating and smarting into a tight, red disfigurement along my jaw and eyes. Not to mention the sickening purple forming bruise conquering my wrist and hand.
"I'm Bottom, by the way," he whispered.
"Excuse me?"
"Nick Bottom. I'm the town's weaver and purveyor of fabrics," Nick explained, clapping the heels of his clogs together.
"I'm Roger and this is Antonio." I nodded to Antonio. "Sorry, Bottom?" I forced my mind to make sure that was the correct name.
Starveling hushed a chuckle. "Bottom's a sensitive soul, even as a kid. Nerves get the better of him."
YOU ARE READING
Fools, these Mortals
VampireFools is a Shakespeare retelling of the first acts of multiple plays with a gothic twist. Sebastien finds himself on the shores of Illyria, discovering his ship, crew and twin sister had drowned in the tempest from the previous night. Rescued by th...
