The Golden Age

Chapter 10: A Fine Vintage

In the cellars of the Chateau D'Ysel Hermione Addams and Jean Alardyce had spent the previous two days recovering from their journey – the same as that which Alice had just undergone – but it could hardly be said that they had adjusted to their situation.

They were both naked – the two of them had been stripped of their flying suits and their remaining underclothes within moments of being pulled from the floats of Clegg's seaplane on their arrival. They had been chained – heavy iron shackles locked on to their wrists and ankles restricted their movement and short lengths of chain linked their wrist shackles to rings set in the wall of the cell where they were confined.

The cell had been one of their first shocks. Pulled in chains from the room where they were stripped they had been led down the stone steps that led to the Chateau's cellars. The cellar was lined with enormous wine barrels. Amused by their confusion their gaoler had pulled back a false front on one of the barrels to reveal a barred door behind it. The inside of the barrel was fitted out as a small but effective prison. A single light bulb, secure behind a wire cage provided a dim light. He'd unlocked the door and pushed them inside, securing their shackles to the wall rings before slamming the barred door shut on the women. “They say you should always have a good vintage in your cellar,” he chortled. “We'll have to see how long you two need to be laid down before you're ready. I think this could be a very good year for Vin D'Ysel.” The outer door of the barrel was pushed shut. As it closed their captor smiled in at them. “I'm sure that as intelligent women you will have realised that there is not a great deal of point in calling for help, your cell is well muffled and this cellar is below twenty feet of good French stone. They say empty bottles make most noise. Well, down here the barrels make no noise – empty or full.”

They had panicked as the door slammed shut at first, fearing that there was no air but then, slowly, calm had returned.

They took stock of their situation: Naked, helpless, in an unknown place – somewhere in France they assumed from the name of the place and the accents of their captors – and completely at the mercy of whoever held sway over this mad place.

On the other hand, they could at least move within their tiny cell and they had water in an enamel jug. They'd been provided with a bucket and not long after their arrival a silent gaoler had brought them some warm gruel and bread. For the first time since they started their journey they weren't gagged or blind folded.

On the day of their arrival neither of the women had spoken for a long time. Both were traumatised by their journey, each trapped within one of the floats of Clegg's seaplane. Uncertain as to their whereabouts, or why they there, they were both fearful of what was to become of them.

Hermione was curled up at one end of the barrel. Jean looked up at the top of their cell. “Can they hear us, do you think?” she asked.

Hermione sat up, clutching her arms around her. It was cool in the cell and she was naked. “I don't know. I could almost believe anything of them after what they did to us. I don't care either, I might just tell them what I think of them.”

Jean tried to offer a comforting smile. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. Yes, I think so. A bit bruised around my ankles and waist and the back of my neck but otherwise OK. Oh, goodness,” Hermione realised who her companion was, “aren't you Jean Alardyce? The flyer? You were supposed to have been killed.”

“Killled? But when? How?”

“On your record flight attempt from Stourside – your plane disappeared. Everyone assumes it blew up.”

“Not with me on, I'm glad to say. Got a thump on the head just as I was about to get in the plane. Someone else must have taken it up. The only flying I've done recently was the trip jammed in the float of that lunatic's seaplane, just like you.”

“Oh, no is that how he brought us here, I hadn't realised. It was just – just horrific …. And he made everyone think you were dead. Oh!” Hermione sobbed. Clegg's treatment of the two women terrified her. She looked down at her wrists. The manacles were already starting to rub them raw, red wheals showed where they circled her limbs.

Now, two days later, they sat mostly in silence, taking each moment as it came, ignored by the guards for most of the time. The indifference of their captors was as disturbing as the violence of their abduction. Now the two sat, quietly, terrified of what the future would bring.

In the cellar beyond the door of their barrel cell, Alice was being hustled in from the outside. She was half pushed, half dragged down a flight of steps. She heard a heavy door slam shut behind her. She half span around in the grip of her captor. “ Reste tranquille !” a voice barked, “Stay still, mademoiselle, stay still.”

She felt the straps at her wrists being released and thought for one, ecstatic moment that she was to be freed. Her relief lasted only a moment. She felt the zipper on her flight suit being drawn down. Still blinded she tried to struggle as she was stripped. He efforts were without avail and she was soon naked. She felt her hands pulled together and the chill of metal bands being locked around them. Finally the flying helmet and goggles were pulled from her head and, blinking in even the gloom of the Chateau's cellar, she could see again.

She looked around her at the brick lined cellar and the rows of barrels; then at the man who had dragged her there. Embarrassed by his appraising stare she tried to cover first her breasts and then her sex with her shackled hands.

“T'ant pis, mademoiselle, t'ant pis. You weel ‘ave to cope with worse than zis in time. But for now…” He gestured towards one of the enormous wine barrels and pulled the front from it. Alice was horrified to see two other naked women inside behind a barred door as the man pulled it open. As they looked up at her, she realised that one was Jean Alardyce. “Maintenant, tu peut tu joindre tes amis.”

“ Voici une autre, mes filles,” he said to the Jean and Hermione, “take care of her.” He pushed Alice into the barrel and slammed the cage door behind her. As she turned toward him the outer barrel door was shut as well. Alice fell to her knees, clawing at the bars of the cage door and whimpering through her gag.

Jean was quickly to her side. “Don't. It's no good, they can't hear you.” Alice turned away from the cage door. Jean recognised her. “Oh, no, didn't we meet – where was it? At the tennis club - last week?” Alice nodded and grunted through the plug of her gag. Jean looked at the strap that held it in place. “Here, hold still,” she said. “The gag is not locked on, I think I can unbuckle it. Turn around.” Alice crouched down as Jean fumbled with the strap of her gag, the buckle came lose and Jean prised the rubber plug from Alice 's mouth.

Alice coughed and spluttered as the plug came free. “Oh, thank you,” she sobbed, “thank you so much. What on earth have we been brought to?”

Hermione and Jean both shook their heads. “I've no idea,” said Hermione. “And neither have I,” said Jean.