Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale (26 page)

And Patercek did not discount the suspicious
looks Thal drew out of his mother. But she had not complained about
Thal, not even when Patercek had directly asked her if Thal
disturbed her. And Zsazi Patercek was not a woman to hesitate in an
accusation.

Ultimately Patercek knew that his sister
would just hate him if he did not send this exciting specimen her
way. He signed the letter.

Then he added a post script.

“I recommend him to you and your associates
as a man of arms and courage.”

Satisfied with his decision, he folded the
letter and heated the sealing wax. After pressing in his symbol, he
gathered all four letters and slid them into a deep pocket of his
loose vest.

His study was in a tower across from his
bedchamber. The leaded glass window framed a view of his beloved
hunting woods. He looked out at his estate with a fondness that
would never fade.

Down in the yard Brutus and Lucky started
barking, and he expected that his first guests were arriving. Once
he got down to the main level the stimulating aroma of roasting
pork caressed him. The meaty smell was wafting through the
corridors and into the great hall.

******

Thal was very impressed with the presentation
of the roast boar. Herbs sprinkled its crispy brown skin. A bundle
of dried fruits was dripping from its mouth. Roasted baby carrots
and turnips were piled along the flanks of the great animal. Its
meaty bulk was spread out on a pile of sausages that had cooked
inside it.

Six men carried out the boar on a monstrous
platter that was set down on a table equipped with many plates,
knives, and rolls of bread. The guests exclaimed happily at the
presentation of the main course. The double doors to the castle
yard were open and the crowd of serfs banqueting on outdoor tables
cheered as the meat course came forth. They would be last in line
for the boar, and many would not get any, but there were other
tables of roast ducks and pheasants and fish. Wheels of cheese were
carved into countless slices and four kegs of beer were going to
keep the common folk happy for a while.

Thal returned to the seat he had been given
at one of the indoor banquet tables. He had been placed among some
small landholders and local tradesmen. Although he had nothing in
common with them, his mysterious differences made him a focus of
interest. Men and women asked questions about the musicians or they
wanted to hear his account of the boar hunt. Everyone seemed to
think that he had killed the same boar that was tearing into their
own fields.

The servants carved into the boar and served
first the prestigious guests gathered at Patercek’s long table.
Thal observed these guests that included the local parish priest.
He was given a seat of honor next to Lady Zsazi. Judging from her
expression, Thal believed she was quite bored with her dinner
partner, who looked like he got invited to many banquets.

Imported fabrics with intricate designs and
many more buttons than were necessary clothed the wealthy guests.
Lovely headdresses with felt trim or beaded headbands adorned the
women. The tops of their bosoms bulged invitingly from their
bodices. Glass beads and cut crystals were strung around their
necks. Artfully arranged sprigs of flowers were clipped to their
shoulders or tied to their wrists. As Thal watched them, he noted
how they eyed each other competitively and vied for attention.

Patercek stood up and the crowd quieted. He
raised his chalice. It was an ancient silver cup with garnets set
around it.

“Welcome! Welcome!” he cried as servants
continued to deliver food and pour drink. His hefty voice filled
the room. “I am so heartened to be surrounded by my affectionate
community.”

People clapped and cheered.

Patercek continued, “I thank you for coming
on such short notice. Before I reveal my reason for inviting you
here, I want to express my special gratitude to my guest, Thal.
He’s an extraordinary huntsman and we have him to thank for
tracking and cornering the wily boar that now graces our
plates.”

Thal received applause as well. Skill as a
hunter seemed to be universally appreciated. He stood up and dipped
his head in every direction as he had seen the musicians do on many
occasions. Then he bowed to Patercek before returning to his
seat.

“And now for my surprise,” Patercek said. A
few guests giggled before he went on. “Yes, I’m sure the rumor mill
has been grinding and many know what I’ve been hiding. But I’ll
keep them to myself no longer. I am hosting a trio of talented
musicians from Venice. I do hope you enjoy them. Come out Carlo,
Regis, and Raphael!”

The musicians emerged onto a staircase.
Carlo’s zink serenaded the crowd with a splendid tune new to
people’s ears. Raphael strummed a rhythm on his lute while taking
care not to stumble on the steps. Regis was first in line and he
led them to their chairs in the center of the banquet tables. He
set his harp on his chair and bowed to the audience.

“Thank you. Thank you,” he said as the
clapping subsided. Always nervous before a performance, he absorbed
the energy and let it consume his fear. He need only give a few
notes and then the bliss of performance would take him the rest of
the way.

“My colleagues and I are very appreciate of
the opportunity to perform here at Castle Patercek,” Regis
said.

“Almost,” Thal whispered to himself. He had
been coaching Regis on his opening line because his friend had
wanted to speak Czech perfectly.

No one else minded the little linguistic
error. It added to their exotic appeal.

Without another word, Regis seated himself at
his harp and made his last adjustments to his tuning. Then Carlo
resumed his zink playing, and the lute and harp joined in the
music. It was a lovely yet gentle tune that pleased people but let
them return their attention to their arriving food.

“Why doesn’t he sing?” asked a woman sitting
across the table from Thal. She looked rather miffed. “He’s
supposed to have a lovely voice.”

“He does,” Thal said.

When he spoke, he instantly drew the
attention of his table companions.

Thal explained, “Regis does not like to sing
when people are eating. He does not want your attention
divided.”

“Isn’t that presumptuous,” the woman huffed
impatiently.

“Eat woman. I know you like to,” her husband
said as he happily received his plate of pork. She scowled.

A plate was set in front of Thal. The slow
roasted pork yielded beneath his knife without any more resistance
than applesauce. He savored every bite, which was an ability of his
man body that he was growing to appreciate.

The man who had hushed his wife struck up a
conversation. Easing back in his chair with a fresh beer, he
introduced himself to Thal as Hubert the Miller. He had a thriving
operation on the river.

“You are a fortunate man to have so much,”
Thal said.

“Well, my family has worked hard at it,”
Hubert pointed out, but he had gossip on his mind. “I’ve heard an
extraordinary tale this spring and thought you might be able to
confirm it since you’ve been traveling.”

“What have you heard?” Thal said absently as
he pulled a shred of pork off his knife.

“Some imperial couriers coming up the south
road told of a werewolf in the region of Rosenberg Castle. Did you
pass that way?” Hubert said.

Thal smiled. He set down his knife and
glanced around the table, silently inviting everyone to listen. “I
have heard that story,” he announced.

A couple ladies gasped and all eyes
widened.

He continued, “The Rosenberg guard captain
and his men were supposedly overcome by a beast on the night of a
full moon.”

“Were they butchered?” the Miller’s wife
asked.

“No,” Thal said. “They were robbed. When I
was in Budweis, I heard that it was just a wild story the captain
made up to cover his embarrassment about being overcome by
bandits.”

Everyone laughed.

“So that’s how these stories get started,”
Hubert commented and drank some beer. Foam clung to his mustache.
His wife tried to dab at it with a napkin but he fended her
off.

Thal returned his attention to his food while
the dinner conversation recalled historical werewolf sightings. He
was pleased with himself for how he had deflected the story of
Captain Jan.

Later when Regis did sing, he opened with
cheerful songs. Then he sang a ballad about Adriatic pirates that
would be new to the Bohemians and they were riveted by the exciting
yet sad story.

As the dinner party dwindled into drinking
and nibbling, couples approached the dance floor, and the musicians
switched to dance tunes. Thal accepted a refill of beer and
strolled outside. The party in the courtyard was getting rather
rollicking. Pipers and drummers were playing for a line of male
dancers who kicked their feet high and competed for attention from
the crowd with their rapid steps. Then the men came back together
and locked arms and danced in a circle while everyone laughed and
clapped. Women took hands and formed their own circle and joined
the men.

The cheerful energy put a smile on Thal’s
face. To be among people and feel welcome and safe were good
things.

“Thal the huntsman,” a woman said. Francesca
slipped an arm around his waist.

“Hello,” he said.

“Will you dance with me?” she said.

He hesitated to reply.

Emboldened by the festive atmosphere, she
poked him in the ribs playfully. “I’m not going to let you ignore
me today,” she said.

“I don’t ignore you,” he said.

Francesca tugged him toward the dancing area
where laughing men and women cavorted in alternating circles.

“Dance with me,” she said.

Thal was surprised by his lack of confidence
in this situation.

“I don’t know how to dance,” he said.

Francesca faced him. Her skirt hem swished
against his boots. “Does not Thal the great huntsman slay the beast
and then dance around his fire in the forest like the pagans of
old?” she said.

“Is that what all this is?” Thal said and
gestured around the courtyard where Patercek had set loose his
little Bacchanal.

Francesca nodded. She took his beer stein and
put it on a table. Then she grabbed his hand firmly and pulled him
into the dancing.

“Just watch what the men do and do it,” she
said. “And make sure you get me when it’s time to pair.”

Thal yielded to the situation. He was awkward
at first, but the men in the circle encouraged him and laughed when
they messed him up by changing direction. Quickly he adapted and
sensed in the music and the mood of his fellows when it was time to
change direction. The women dancing on the inner circle were
mirroring their movements and calling flirtatiously to the men. As
the music quickened the men sped up but then someone would slow
down the progress. The circling women were becoming more erratic in
their movements too. When Francesca popped up across from Thal he
realized that the men and women were trying to line up with or
avoid certain partners.

The music stopped and Francesca jumped close
to Thal.

“Ow!” she cried as another woman banged into
her.

Francesca grabbed Thal and fended off the
other female with a look that any animal would understand.

She placed her palms against his palms and
they danced together until the music changed tempo again and the
circles reformed. Thal was smiling when Francesca paired with him
again. She put her body closer than before, and his body tingled
with a deep response. The sensation was both pleasing and
confusing. There was a wildness to it. Francesca was making her
desires abundantly clear, and his increasingly bothered body urged
him to toss aside caution.

Their hands came together again. Her hips
brushed against him, and he was suddenly certain of the pleasures
that women had to offer. The promise of the coming dusk whispered
to Thal of activities to be done in the dark.

When he rejoined the men’s dancing circle
again, he understood why some people slowed or sped up to avoid
individuals. The cravings set loose by the dance could lead to
regrettable actions. Although tempted by his inner cravings, Thal
began to resist his manly needs. He had no intention of staying at
Castle Patercek very long. Should he really mate with that girl and
leave her? He knew what Regis would say to that question. Such
behavior was the musician’s lifestyle.

But Thal had a darker reason to belay his
passion. Should he really inflict himself on a woman? He was not
altogether a man.

Thal did not have the heart to avoid
partnering with her again. It seemed too publicly rude, but he
danced her out of the crowd. His firm insistence thrilled her. She
had never touched a man who projected such palpable power.

Beyond the ring of clapping spectators, she
slid her arms around his lean torso. She felt the fluffy fur
stuffed inside his loose shirt and wondered why he had it
there.

Thal gently took her arms off him.

“Francesca, you’ve been kind to me and I
appreciate that,” he said.

She was still catching her breath from the
dance and did not get out a response before he continued, “I’m just
a wandering rogue. You don’t know anything about me. Don’t throw
yourself at me.” He was proud of himself for rejecting her. It was
for the best even if his body disagreed strenuously.

“I’m not throwing myself at you,” she said
and jerked away from him.

He was not sure what to say to her
incredulous denial. His gaping silence only offended her more.

“No wonder Patercek likes you so much!” she
snarled and pushed him out of her way as she stomped back to the
dancing.

Thal was not quite sure what she meant, but
he regretted hurting her feelings. Perhaps he should have
discouraged her more gently. But he feared that if he had not been
blunt, then he might have succumbed. His arousal had been edging
toward a state of abandon.