Authors: J. V. Jones
"Lord Maybor
is in town. He has his son and a small company of men with him."
"This is
indeed good news, Keddi. You have done well to tell me." Mistress Greal's
eyes narrowed with greed. Lord Maybor was well known to be the wealthiest man
in the Four Kingdoms. He was also well known for his considerable appetites for
women and drink. Mistress Greal considered it her responsibility to see the
great man was liberally and expensively provided with both while he was in
town.
Although his lands
were not far east of Duvitt, Mistress Greal could not remember him ever having
visited the town before. "Keddi, where is he staying?" Mistress Greal
had an arrangement with the innkeepers in most of Duvitt's hostelries.
"He's staying here."
"Good, good.
Come and help me out of this dress, Keddi. I will wear the green tonight, I
find green is the color that suits me best."
Once she was
dressed, she made Keddi brush out her best wig. "Be careful, girl!"
she snapped. "You're not grooming a horse."
As soon as the wig
was in place she ordered the servant to see to her two girls. "Run along,
Keddi, and make sure you pull their laces tight. I want to see high bosoms and
small waists. Keep Willa's hair down-it serves to hide that unsightly blemish
on her neck. Oh, and one more thing, tell them to stay upstairs until bidden. I
would first tempt Lord Maybor with descriptions of their charms. Anticipation
has helped beget many a deal."
Once Keddi had
left, Mistress Greal made her way down to the inn. It was a little early, but
she was eager to secure the best table, the one a decent distance from the
nearest lamp. Unfortunately her recent girls had need of a little shadow. Once
in place she ordered the cheapest wine and prepared to wait.
She did not have
to wait for long. There was a bustle of voices and the inn door opened and a
group of men came in. They were cold and wet and called loudly for service. She
could tell straightaway from their fine dress who they were. One man stuck out
above the rest; he had the bearing that only came with great wealth and
nobility. His robes were crimson and gold, and his cloak was lined with ermine.
His voice boomed out loudly as he called for food and drink, but Mistress
Greal's sharp ears caught the sound of his low wheezes.
Mistress Greal
noted with approval that the party had ordered the best that the inn had to
offer: roasted venison, smoked salmon, grilled pheasant, to say nothing of the
barrel of lobanfern red that the innkeeper dragged from the cellar. Mistress
Greal knew to the last copper the cost of the various libations the inn had for
sale, and lobanfern red was by far the most expensive.
She watched as the
group became more rowdy, the drink animating their conversations and flushing
their faces. Mistress Greal decided it was time to make her move. She stood up,
smoothing her skirts, and sauntered over to their table.
"I bid you
gentlemen joy on this fine night." All the men turned and looked at her.
"I hope you are enjoying your repast. I would let you gentlemen know there
are more tasty morsels available than those on the menu." The party caught
her drift and banged their cups on the table.
"What morsels
have you to offer, woman?" shouted the one she knew to be Lord Maybor.
"I trust they have not been sitting as long in the pot as you have."
The men broke into hearty laughter. Mistress Greal was more than a little
insulted but covered it well.
"Let me
assure you, fine sir, my morsels are young and tender, plump and well
spiced." The party cheered rowdily at her reply.
"You know
well how to tempt a hungry man," said the lord.
"In my
experience, sir, a hungry man needs little tempting." The men erupted into
laughter once more and Mistress Greal knew she was close to reeling them in.
"Tell me,
woman, where do you keep these tender morsels?"
"Morsels as
tender as mine must be kept under lock and key, lest they be eaten before their
time."
"A man's
appetite reaches its fullest only after he sees what he will be eating."
The lord's words
were accompanied by enthusiastic shouts of "Aye!" by his men.
Mistress Greal
judged it was time to bring out her girls. She nodded to the tavernboy, who
promptly ran up the stairs. She used the brief interval to discreetly blow out
a number of the surrounding candles. She then turned her attention back to the
men, perceiving it would be in her best interest to encourage them to drink
more. "May I be so bold as to propose a toast, gentlemen?" she cried.
"It is
forbidden for a lady to propose a toast," shouted one of the group.
"Then we will
not be breaking any rules by letting her propose one." The men dissolved
into fits of laughter. Mistress Greal laughed along with them, the only
indication that she was not truly amused a slight narrowing of her eyes.
Seconds later her
girls appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Mistress Greal's critical eye
rested upon them. Keddi had done a good job. The small party noticed the girls
and cheered loudly, calling them to come over and sup with them. The two girls
looked toward Mistress Greal, who shook her head minutely and indicated, with a
furrow of her brow, that the girls should sit at the table she had picked out
earlier.
Once the men
realized the girls were not about to join them, they booed and hissed and
banged their cups.
"Bring the
girls to our table, woman," ordered the lord. "Me and my girls would
prefer to sit a while on our own, sir. We would, however, be pleased to accept
refreshments from you." The lord grunted and indicated that a jug be
tapped from the barrel and sent to the girls. Mistress Greal's small heart
thrilled with excitement-a whole jug of lobanfern red!
She retired to her
table, where the girls were about to pour themselves a glass of the overpriced
brew. "Don't you dare," she warned. "The tavernboy will do a
switch in a minute and you two can drink from the jug he brings." Mistress
Greal was not about to pass up the chance of a small profit for selling the
lobanfern back to the innkeeper.
The party of men
kept whistling and calling to the girls, raising their cups in toast and
cheering when either of the girls smiled their way. Before long, Lord Maybor
walked over to their table, carrying another jug of wine. "I thought you
ladies might have need of more refreshment."
He sat down
between the two girls, admiring their figures. "My, my, woman, these are
indeed tempting morsels." He squeezed the thigh of one girl, while leering
down the dress of the other. "Very tempting, indeed." Mistress Greal
took the opportunity to gently knock over the jug of cheap wine.
"Oh,
dear," she cried. "Silly me, what have I done, such fine wine!"
She made a show of mopping the spilt wine with her handkerchief. The lord
called out for another jug to be brought. Mistress Greal smiled broadly; this
night was already proving to be most profitable.
More wine came and
the remaining men in the party came over, drawing their chairs around the
table. The men were drinking heavily. Mistress Greal shot her girls a warning
glance, in case they did likewise. The lord surveyed the drinking party with a
benign eye and then whispered a word in Mistress Greal's ear. The two
discreetly left the table.
"So, woman,
tell me your price."
"Well, sir,
for both girls . . . " Mistress Greal paused as she decided her price. She
took a deep breath and said: "Five golds." The lord did not hesitate.
"Done!"
He looked toward his companions. "My men have ridden hard for five days;
it is a cheap price for such alluring distractions."
Mistress Greal
sucked in her breath. Cheap! She cursed herself; she could have charged him
more! The lord began to step back to the table. "Tell me, sir," she
said, anxious to hold him longer while she thought of a plausible way to up her
price, "what business does such a fine lord as yourself have in
Duvitt?" The lord hesitated for a second, and then motioned her to sit
down at a remote corner table. He settled himself in place close beside her,
and when he spoke she could smell the wine on his breath.
"You seem to
be a woman who would know a lot of people in this town." Mistress Greal
nodded. "You would notice if anyone new came to town?"
"I would
indeed, sir." She was ready to agree with anything the lord said.
"I am
interested in finding a girl. Rumors have reached my ears that she may have
passed through this place."
"Who might
this girl be?"
"That is no
concern of yours." The lord's voice was sharp. "She must be
found."
"Give me a
description of the girl." Mistress Greal's words were laden with
understanding. She assumed from the lord's harsh tone that the mysterious girl
had either stolen something from him or given him a bad dose of the ghones.
"She is
approaching her eighteenth summer. She is tall for a girl, and she has long
dark hair and deep blue eyes."
"Does she
bear any marks-from birthing or the pox?" Mistress Greal's heart began to
beat faster. The description of the girl sounded just like the one she had
taken in and fed a few weeks back-the ungrateful slut, Melli.
"She has no
marks. Her skin is smooth and fair."
"Is there a
reward for information about the girl?" She was now positive the girl the
lord sought was Melli of Deepwood.
"What do you
know of her?" demanded the lord. Mistress Greal thought he sounded like a
man most eager to find and punish.
"There was a
girl fitting her description in town a couple of weeks back. I'm sorry to say I
took the wretched girl in. I spent good money on her, thought she'd be an asset
to my business. By Borc, was I wrong! She was a bad one. She turned on me,
stole my dresses, stole a horse, and assaulted a good friend of mine. Of course
we managed to catch up with her. I personally saw to it that the little trollop
was sentenced to a good flogging."
She had barely
finished speaking when the lord viciously grabbed her wrist. "What was the
girl's name?" His voice was charged with anger; Mistress Greal became
afraid.
"Melli. The
girl said she was called Melli." The lord slammed her wrist against the
table with such force that the woman could hear her own bones cracking.
Mistress Greal desperately looked around for help. The innkeeper and tavern boy
refused to meet her eye.
"What became
of the girl?" The lord's voice was charged with fury.
"I don't
know, sir." Tears of pain welled in her eyes. The lord slammed her wrist
down again and pain coursed through her arm. She could see where one of the
broken bones had pierced her skin. "In the middle of her flogging a band
of armed men came and took her away." Mistress Greal was almost
hysterical. "I've heard no more of her, I swear."
"Which
direction did the men head in?" The lord ground her broken wrist into the
table.
"They rode
toward the forest, heading west." Mistress Greal looked on in horror as
the lord took the huge jeweled ring from his finger. He pressed it against her
mouth. She felt the cool kiss of the jewel. With one quick motion he punched
the ring forward with such force that her front teeth were knocked out. She
screamed hysterically and blood rushed down her chin and onto her breasts. The
lord turned and walked out, beckoning his men to follow.
Mistress Greal
slumped over the table, sobbing violently, her blood flowing onto the wood. Not
a single person in the tavern came forward to help her.
Jack heard someone
approaching and slipped back into the shadows, holding his breath as the man
passed. He could tell by the shadow cast that the man was Crope. He waited for
several minutes, body pressed close against the damp stone, and then moved on.
The past few days he had spent waiting, lying low in the cold, dark maze
beneath the castle. He headed toward the tunnel. Tonight he was going to find
out where Melli was being held.
Jack tucked his
sword under his belt and made his way to the oblong room that marked the
entrance to the tunnel. He peered down its length and in the distance he saw a
faint light. He watched it grow dimmer. Crope, it seemed, was also heading to
the haven. Jack entered the passageway and followed the light.
Some time later he
emerged from the tunnel. There was no sign of Crope and he cautiously moved on.
The ways were dark and twisting and he attempted to retrace his steps back
toward the cell he'd first been held in. Each step he took thundered loudly in
his ears and he feared detection at every turn of his path.
Eventually he came
across a door that was bolted on the outside. He listened a moment for any
sound within. Hearing nothing, he drew back the bolt and entered the room.
Once inside, he
lit his candle and looked around. It was a comfortably furnished room,
containing a bed, a bath, and an assortment of chairs and tables. Lying on the
bed were various clothes: a woman's nightgown and dresses. On one of the tables
was a bowl of rosewater. A pile of dirty looking rags in the corner caught
Jack's eye and he went over to look at them more closely. He rummaged through
them. His suspicions were confirmed when he pulled a soiled and ragged red
dress from the pile-Melli's dress. Melli had been kept in this very room. Where
was she now? he wondered. He prayed that she had not been murdered.
Jack investigated
the room further, looking for any clues as to what had become of her. Finding
nothing else he decided to move on. As he opened the door he was astonished to
see Crope emerging from the tunnel wall, the very wall that he had walked past
only minutes earlier. He quickly brought the door back, leaving only a tiny gap
through which to look. As he watched, Crope appeared to feel for something in
the stone and seconds later the wall drew back into place. The huge servant
then made his way back down toward the tunnel.