Chapter 20 #3
‘You know the worst of it?’ Agnes said, at last.
‘What?’
‘I do not hate wearing dresses, and looking like—’
‘Like a woman?’
She shot him a look. Neither of them had said quite so boldly what sort of affliction was troubling her, and to name it out loud had been dangerous. But she did not look cross.
‘Quite,’ she said. ‘I do not hate it all the time. But sometimes … sometimes I wish I could grab all of the things that paint me woman and rip them away.’
Olly nodded. He had heard similar things before – most virulently once a month, when Pepper was at his most resentful of his body.
‘How do you understand all of this?’ Agnes asked. ‘You just … you just seemed to know.’
Olly paused. ‘Have I told you about Pepper?’
‘Not very much.’
‘He is … well, he is as good as my brother. We ran together for a time. He saved my life. I worry about him so damn much. He’s a stubborn little bastard and I fear it will get him killed.’
Agnes was watching him, curious but confused.
‘He …’ Olly continued, rubbing at the back of his neck, staring at the floor, as if that could tell him the words he needed. ‘He is a woman. No: that is entirely wrong. He has a woman’s body. But the rest of him – his heart, his soul – is a man. He is a man.’
‘And you … you call him your brother?’
‘He is my brother.’
‘Even though he—’
‘Even though.’
‘Oh.’
‘You know, I often have wondered if his condition is more common than people think. You hear all sorts of stories, of course; like Hildegund, who was—’
‘Joseph of Schonau, yes,’ Agnes interrupted him. ‘I know the story very well.’
‘And of course there’s Yde.’
Agnes looked up. ‘Yde?’
‘Oh, it’s a marvellous story. I made a song of it for Pepper’s sake. It’s very long, lots of courtly adventures, but at the end of the whole thing Yde – who starts as a woman – is turned into a man, cock and all.’
‘Oh.’ Agnes sniffed with a sardonic little smile. ‘I fear it all comes down to parts, in the end.’
Olly hummed noncommittally. ‘I would not be so sure of that. Pepper’s got a cock. He keeps it under his bed.’
Agnes choked on her own breath. ‘Excuse me?’
‘In a little wooden box,’ Olly continued. He peered across at Agnes, who was now staring at him incredulously. ‘What is the matter?’
‘You cannot tell me this man keeps his cock in a box beneath his bed and refuse to tell me the rest. What in God’s name are you talking about?’
‘It’s made out of leather and wood. He lies with people with it.’
There was a pinkness creeping around Agnes’s neck. ‘Lies with people?’
‘Men, women. Anyone who pays. It has these straps, he showed me once, where he ties it around his hips and … well. Does what one does with a stiff cock.’
‘Oh.’
She appeared to be thinking this through, which had rather been the point.
‘I cannot imagine how such a thing would even work,’ she said at last.
Olly racked his memory, trying to recall Pepper’s much-prized false phallus.
‘The inside was carved wood,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘For stiffness. And then he padded wool around it – or was it cloth? And then made a kind of …’ he gestured with his hands ‘… a kind of sleeve that went around the whole thing.’
‘Good Lord.’
‘I believe that is what his customers say.’ Olly grinned. ‘He made himself a man. Is that … Agnes, is that what you want? To be a man?’
Agnes sniffed. ‘Sometimes? But … it is not always like that. Nothing so simple, more’s the pity of it.
There are times when I am quite content as I am, and others when I detest it.
Often it is as if I am floating, trapped in a current, being pushed this way and that …
Sometimes I wish I could just be man and be done with it.
But sometimes … more often, really, I wish I was simply … something else.’
‘Something else?’
Agnes nodded. ‘A third thing. Something beyond. When I was a girl my nurse always told us about those who chose to devote their lives to God, the brides of Christ, and they were women and men alike but they were something else, too. Something beyond either of those things. I never considered myself holy, but something about that life … I wanted it.’
Olly nodded. ‘I never understood all of that,’ he said. ‘But … I can see it.’
Agnes gave him a small smile. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For allowing me to speak. For listening.’
‘You do not need to thank me. I am your friend, Agnes.’
‘You are?’
She looked so suddenly afraid.
‘Of course I am.’
Olly was not sure how much time had passed when there was a quick, sharp rap on the door. Both of them froze – Agnes with her feet propped up on the crate, Olly juggling turnips.
‘Olly? Agnes?’ They immediately relaxed at Ash’s voice. ‘The door is bolted … Let me in, for God’s sake!’
Olly dropped the turnips all over the floor then rushed to open the door, pulling Ash inside.
‘What in God’s name are you doing?’
‘Looking after your wife,’ Olly said simply.
Ash peered at Agnes over Olly’s shoulder. ‘She looks fine to me.’
‘I was not when he found me,’ Agnes said, removing her feet from the crate and standing. ‘I was … in a state of distress.’
‘Oh.’ Ash looked immediately guilty. ‘Well, then— I am glad he found you. Although I have been going mad looking for you both.’
‘What did your friend need from you?’ Olly asked.
Ash’s expression fell. ‘He wishes to discuss business. Land, trade, vassals, tenancies … He’s very keen to tell me some traders he has met from the east.’
‘He wanted to discuss all of that at your wedding?’ Agnes asked, mouth agape.
‘Thank God, no,’ Ash said. ‘But he has asked me to join him tomorrow to go over it all. I suppose you will have to find some way to amuse yourselves without me.’
‘I am sure we can cope,’ Olly said, leaning on him. ‘I would far rather be in the castle than forced to discuss tenancies.’
‘As would I.’ Ash sighed. ‘People are asking after you, you know,’ he said, looking towards Agnes.
Agnes cursed. ‘Then we ought to return to the hall.’ She stood, smoothing out her skirts. ‘Come, before I lose my nerve once more.’