'Don't make him talk!' said Siggy. 'He's Graff.'
'I'm Gallen,' the girl whispered. 'My name's Gallen.'
Gallen von St Leonhard? I said to myself and her neck.
So three-up and wounded, we rode the beast through town, blatting short echo-shots under the close arches, booming over the high-walled bridge.
'It's your falls, Graff,' said Siggy. 'It's the Ybbs Falls.'
But I was moving to a new spot of neck to kiss. We dodged from sun to shade, with the stinging air first hot and then cool - bellows to my flaming feet - and an orchestra of hoots wanted out of me.
'I'm sorry it hurts,' Gallen said. 'I'll take care of you.'
But I couldn't squeeze her hard enough to stop the stinging; I let my eyes be brushed by the falling goblet-shape of her hair.
'Oh now,' she said. 'Now, all right.'
The cobblestones were blurry; we seemed miles in the air and rising. There were bears running below me, blowing on the coals that some fiend had left on my calves.
'It's a castle!' said Siggy. 'Why, the Gasthof's a castle!'
But I couldn't be so surprised. With Gallen von St Leonhard taking care of me, I could expect a castle.
'Well,' Gallen said. 'It was a castle once.'
'It's still a castle!' said Siggy, his voice miles away and overrun by trampling bears. And from forty motorcycle seats distant, he said, 'A castle is always a castle.'
And the last things I saw were the little boomerangs of forsythia petals that littered our way and were flung confetti-like behind us, hurled in the terrible draft of the cycle's exhaust.
I shut my eyes and went giddy in my Gallen's lovely hair.
Cared For
'WELL NOW,' SIGGY was saying, 'it's a piece of luck our Graff blinked out tike that, or he'd have caused some stir, having his pants pulled off.'
'You were gentle, though, weren't you?' said Gallen.
'Of course, girl,' he was saying. 'I put him in the bath with his pants on and did everything underwater.' He was saying, 'Then I drained the bath out from under him and let him lie.'
But I still felt underwater, and I couldn't see anything. There were high, hard walls around me, and my legs were wrapped up in slime.
'Oh, help,' I whispered, but not a pinprick of light broke my blackness.
And Siggy was saying, 'Then I greased some towels with that gunk your auntie gave me, and I swaddled him up like Jesus.'
'But where is he now?' Gallen said.
'Oh, where am I now?' I bellowed.
'In the bathtub!' said Siggy, and a harsh doorway of light swung over me; I looked down at myself, at the towels wrapped from shins to belly.
'He's had a fine nap,' said Siggy.
'You didn't have to wrap up so much of him,' Gallen said.
'Well, I thought you'd want a peek,' said Siggy, 'and the towels were easier than dressing him.'
Their heads looked over the bathtub, but everything was all awhack - as if they were kneeling on the floor, because their chins barely made it to the tub rim.