A Lesson for the Cyclops

Chapter 8

“… so all I could do was roll.” D’Arbignal’s voice filled the campsite as the Cyclops approached Marco’s tent. It sent a pleasant chill through her, and she shivered with excitement. “So I rolled to the left and I rolled to the right, keeping them off-guard and unable to land a single true blow. I snatched my rapier from the brigand holding it captive, and rolled my way to victory!”

The Cyclops heard Conchinara’s laughter, like the tinkling of musical bells, and her heart sunk. Conchinara was still  with him?

The Cyclops despaired at the unfairness of the situation. Conchinara already had  a man, and now she had two, while the Cyclops went to sleep at night with nothing but her now-shredded pillow to give her comfort. She knew it was too much to ever again hope that a man as worldly and handsome as D’Arbignal could ever desire someone as hideous as herself, but was it too much to hope for a male friend, one who could somehow tolerate being in her presence without first extinguishing all the lights?

Oh, wait. Of course  it was too much to hope for, or hope to deserve.

“Now I know that story can’t be true, Mister D’Arbignal,” Conchinara mock-chided him. “I think you think me naïve.”

“Not at all,” D’Arbignal was saying as the Cyclops entered the tent. “I swear the entire story is true! Indeed, you must have an ill impression of my  character, if you think—ah, my rapier! And my bag!”

He looked like he was recovering nicely, though he was still pale, and his forehead was dotted with perspiration. His shirt was still off, and the Cyclops caught herself marveling at his muscled and nearly hairless chest. And oh, he was lean! Just beautiful, functional muscle everywhere and not a bit of fat anywhere to be seen.

She entertained a brief fantasy. She would like to fall asleep with her head resting on that chest. Oh, to feel his heart beating beneath her head, to be lulled to pleasant dreams by the rhythmic rising and falling accompanying his breath.

D’Arbignal coughed.

“Ah, my rapier!” he repeated, only louder. “And my bag!”

Conchinara laughed, and the Cyclops blushed, realizing she had been caught daydreaming.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “What?”

“Ah, my rapier?” D’Arbignal said. “And my bag?”

“What? Oh!” The Cyclops realized she was holding D’Arbignal’s gear. Idiotically, she extended them towards him as an offer.

“I guess it’s time to get up,” D’Arbignal said, moving to sit up in his cot.

Conchinara placed a gentle hand against his bare chest, and left it there. “No, Mister D’Arbignal. No, no, no. You need to keep resting.”

She pointed at the rapier and the bag.

“Cyclops—” she started to say.

“Maria,” D’Arbignal said.

“Pardon?”

“I believe the lady said her name was Maria.”

“What? You mean—Oh, of course.” Conchinara recovered quickly. “Maria, please leave Mister D’Arbignal’s possessions on that table.”

Conchinara gazed at D’Arbignal with lustful eyes. “And then, please leave us. We have much to … discuss, he and I.”

“We do?” D’Arbignal said, grinning.

Conchinara placed her hand on his chest again, and then traced her fingertips softly over its surface.

“Oh,” D’Arbignal said, reconsidering. His eyes were on Conchinara’s, shining. “Yes, I’m sure we can find something to fill the idle hours this evening.”

The Cyclops felt transfixed by heartbreak and humiliation that left her rooted to the spot upon which she stood.

“Excuse me, uh”—Conchinara fished for the Cyclops’s name—“Maria. Would you be kind enough to give us our privacy?”

Overwhelmed with shame, she moved to depart.

“Thank you, Maria,” D’Arbignal said. Strangely, there was kindness in his voice. And my, how it thrilled her to hear him speak her old name!

“It was nothing,” she said, thinking of her destroyed sleeping quarters and the hours of cleaning and repairs she’d have to put in before she could sleep. “Nothing at all.”

As she left the tent, D’Arbignal was saying softly, “Now, what shall we speak about, I wonder?”

“I’m sure we could think of something,” purred Conchinara.

A single tear trailed down the Cyclops’s face, and she brushed it off as the tent flap closed behind her. She turned to head back to her tent, and was startled to find Alfredo standing before her, glaring.

“I take it the man’s rapier found its way safely back home?” he said.

“Y-y-yes,” the Cyclops said. And then, not to spare Conchinara but to spare D’Arbignal, she added in a loud voice, “Your wife  had me leave it on the table for him until he’s feeling better.”

Alfredo shook his head in disgust. He shoved the Cyclops out of his way.

As she started towards her own tent, she heard D’Arbignal’s voice from within the tent: “Wait … wife?”