The real Mother Goose

“I think you’ve gotten too used to getting the upper hand,” he teased, kissing the top of her head as he led the horse around the back, toward the woods that bordered their property. It was dark, but the moon was bright enough to give them light to see by.

“I’m a very good mistress, I’ll have you know,” she insisted, stiffening against him. “I trained quite a few new charges while you were gone.”

“So I hear.” He laughed silently, as if she wouldn’t know. “And I also hear I need new drapes, a new bedpost, and of course, lots of new clothes for my wife…” She sighed. “Well, maybe the cats were a mistake. But I was lonely…” He kissed the top of her head, urging the horse faster. “And of course, now we have to go save two slaves from their fate because you have some notion in your head that they’re in love…”

She elbowed him in the ribs, making him growl with pain, much to her satisfaction. “They are. And they deserve to be happy.”

“As happy as we are?” Father rubbed the place she’d poked him. “Damn, woman, you’ve got good aim.”

“I know,” she said smugly.

“You’re incorrigible.” He tightened his hold on her, driving the horse forward, and they both caught a sense of urgency. Mother hoped the were in time. She couldn’t imagine the King truly harming his property, but with George whispering in his ear, she wasn’t so sure. And trying to imagine that the King himself had ordered Artan killed!

That thought, still, was hard to swallow.

“How are we going to get past?” Mother whispered as they approached the gates of the King’s estate.

Father’s arm squeezed her waist. “Leave that to me.”

“Pass?” The knight who stopped them barred the way with a sword rather than a staff-they were clearly on alert.

Father’s eyes glittered behind his white feathered mask, and he reached into his cloak to pull out the medallion. “I have something the King has been looking for.”

The man’s eyes widened and he lifted his staff, stepping aside. Artan guided the horse through the gate and dismounted, helping his wife down.

“What is that thing?” Mother asked again, and Artan shrugged.

“I told you,” he replied, taking her hand and leading her toward the hall. “A key to the portal.”

“But-” Mother’s protest stuck in her throat as they entered the room. Jill was chained up, completely nude, in the archway that Hump had occupied the other night.

She was alone, suspended forward by her chains, arms behind her, feet manacled close to the brick. It had to hurt and Mother moaned in sympathy.

Jack, however, had fared worse. He was suspended nude by chains above a chandelier, the candles all lit, glowing brightly. Six men held the ends of the chains, and as the King called out, “Lower!” the crowd cheered, “Lower! Lower!” and they nudged the youth down a notch, closer and closer to the flames. The worst was the cock ring, a thick band of leather wrapped around the base of the boy’s not inconsiderable member, forcing him to maintain his erection. It would reach the fire before any other part of him, she gauged.

“He doesn’t mean to let him-” Mother whispered, hearing yet another cry, this time from George, who sat at the right of the King, of “Lower!”

“I believe he does,” Father Goose replied, his mouth drawn into a thin line as he glanced up a their young charge. Jack was close enough that the front of him glowed red from the heat of the flames, and he arched away as far as he could in response, in spite of the strain it must have been on his muscles.

“Interlopers!” George’s shriek filled the hall, and Mother gasped, taking an instinctive step toward her husband. “He has the Keeper’s Jewel I warned you of! Look, around his neck!”

King Cole’s gaze found them as he stood, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he’d seen the medallion. Artan had left it around his neck and exposed, the glittering black jewel in the center like the eye of a crow.

“They’re from the other side! They came through the portal with the medallion!” George insisted. “Men! Seize them!”

Artan stepped forward, pulling off his mask and bowing in King Cole’s direction.

“Your majesty, I am returned.” A gasp of recognition echoed through the hall. “Has it been so long, then, that Georgie Porgie now gives the orders here?” The King held up his hand to his men, his gaze moving to Mother, who pulled her own feathered white mask off to reveal her visage.

“I’ve come to claim what is rightfully mine.” Father Goose held the medallion high, turning toward the crowd so they could see as well.

“It doesn’t belong to him!” George’s shriek, the stamping of his foot, drew little attention.

“It belongs to me, and my line before me!” Artan turned back to King Cole. “It belongs to my wife, my family, and all my children who come after us.” The Queen of Hearts stood beside her husband, her hand at her throat, her face perplexed. “It is our freedom, to fly where we choose, in this world, or in others.”

“What is this jewel?” King Cole frowned. “Is it true, as George has said, that it opens the portal?”