by Pfantazm
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Well after the sun had set, the two men led their white stallion up to
the door of Tybalt's manse. Madoc hesitated. How on earth could he do
this? But he had gone over his captive's arguments, and could find no
hole in them. This was the only way to solve both problems quickly. He
raised his arm and knocked.
He heard Thom gasp behind him. Thom grabbed for his right hand. "Quick! Give me your hand! Before they open the door!" Madoc held out his hand. Thom turned over the ring that bound him to Madoc so that it looked more like a common ring, and not the obvious blue-stoned dog trainer's ring it really was. Thom only managed to compose himself again in time for a young woman to come to the door. "Yes?" she asked. "Good evening, m'lady," Madoc said quickly. "We were accompanying a coach near here that was attacked. In all the confusion, we were separated. Might we impose on your master to stay the night?" "Of course, come in and I'll fetch my master." Madoc began to step into the house when he felt something tug at his cuirass. Thom had surreptitiously slipped his hand in, and kept him from following. "Ah, I can... just wait here, I suppose," he said lamely. "Alright," the maid said. "I'll be right back." She closed the door on them to save the heat. "What is it?" Madoc asked Thom. "First, don't give away your whole story right away; it's suspicious. Second, don't call the help `m'lady'. Third, don't use his name until he gives it to you, but don't hesitate to give your name, Hadrian. And don't let anyone see that ring." They were back in position (and still being rained on) when Tybalt came to the door. "Welcome, gentlemen! Come in, come in, don't stand out there all night!" Tybalt was a short man, 5'6" with reddish-brown hair and a well-kept beard. He had a slightly red face that had a permanent grin etched into it. The two men entered the foyer as Tybalt turned to a young boy, saying, "See to this man's horse, now." The boy hitched up his collar against the downpour and Madoc watched him turn the horse around as the door closed. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Tybalt of Westhall, though I have lived here for many years. And who are you?" "I am Hadrian. I thank you for your hospitality." Thank goodness, thought Madoc. That's one less thing to worry about. Tybalt's eyes widened, but he rallied quickly. "Hadrian, Hadrian, where do I know that name?" He feigned forgetfulness. "Ah, you wouldn't happen to be from Janusport, would you?" Amazing, thought Madoc, just as Thom said he's filling in the blanks himself. "As a matter of fact I am from Janusport originally." "Why, you must be Owain's son! I know your father, a fine man, a fine man! I must say, I can see the resemblance." Now Madoc's eyes widened. Did he look like Owain? Probably not, he guessed. He's just telling a safe lie. "I thank you. I'll be sure to tell him when next I see him." Thom stepped up to his and began to unbuckle his cuirass. Madoc raised his arms nonchalantly. "I'll need to set this somewhere to dry away from the heat." "Certainly! You can leave it in one of the spare bedrooms, and you can stay here this dreadful night. Melydia!" The maid that had answered the door appeared again. "Guide this man to his master's room for the night." The maid started down the hallway. Thom followed, but walking as slowly as he could. Madoc stared after him. Why...? Oh, the ring! The room was probably more than twenty feet away! "Actually, I'd appreciate it if I could wash up." "Fine, and after that we will dine together." Madoc's jaw dropped. The hour was so late that Tybalt must have eaten already. Thom had been right again. "Now don't look so surprised, young sir. How could you expect any less?" "I... I just cannot credit how fortunate I am to have found this place tonight." Tybalt smiled. "Good, good. Just follow Melydia. I see that she's stopped so your man can catch up to her. She will lead you to your quarters." Tybalt watched them until he thought Madoc was out of earshot, then he ran off as though he remembered the other half of his house was on fire and needed seeing to. As they walked to their room, Madoc marvelled at Thom's ability to read their host, whom he couldn't have met before. He considered the amount of effort it must have taken. And he must have researched it all while he was readying himself for the jeweller's theft; he hadn't had much time before that. Madoc's opinion of Thom rose. When they got to their room, the maid left them alone. Thom went over to the door to listen. When he was sure the maid had gone, he began talking. "So far, so good, but you'll have to be a little faster on your feet, or we'll seem odd. Remember that if I'm made to be too far away, I'll be physically sick, which won't do us any good. If Tybalt has an ounce of decency he'll offer me dinner in the servant's quarters. That's always close to the kitchens, and they're usually close to the dining room. Let's hope it's not more than twenty feet total. If it is, I'll handle it. Now, if he doesn't offer me food, gently spur him in that direction, and he'll jump. Also, see if you can get a tour of the place; find that mirror-- Shh." Madoc kept still. Thom snatched the cuirass and leapt through a door to the side, into the guest's servant's room. Someone knocked on the main door. Madoc was caught off-guard when Melydia entered with fresh clothes for him. "I hope you find these to your liking, sir." Madoc looked over the clothes. They were very fine and it looked like they would fit. He nodded and Melydia slipped out. Thom returned without the armor. "That was close." "How could you have heard her?" "She was humming to herself in the corridor." Madoc just shook his head. "Don't tell me," Thom teased, "that I'm making an impression on you. Seeing me at work holds you in awe? You haven't seen me at work yet. Now get changed. Tybalt will be expecting you." When they arrived at the dining room, Melydia seated Madoc. "Master Tybalt will be joining you shortly," she said as she fetched a plate of fruit and cheese from the sideboard. After he was settled, Melydia left, taking Thom with her. Thom had never even entered the room. Madoc prepared himself to deal with his part of the plan. He took a morsel of cheese and chewed it nervously. "Yes, neither of us ate this afternoon." "Well, I'll take you belowstairs and we'll see what we can get you. What's your name?" "Thom." By now, they had circumvented the hall and they had arrived in the kitchens. Several women were working feverishly to prepare an impromptu meal for the surprise guest. Melydia approached one of the older women. "Randa, is there any of that stew left over? Thom here hasn't eaten." "This 'ould be one of the ones who've got my staff all in a lather trying to cook a second supper?" Randa looked Thom over. "I've a good mind to let 'im starve, the trouble they're causin'." Thom looked sheepish. He thought the better of trying to argue with the head cook. "It's in that pot over there. It's likely to've gone cold b'now, and he's lucky to get it. You'll have to serve 'im. I've got enough on my plate as 'tis." "Thanks, Randa." Melydia got a bowl and ladled some thin stew into it. She found a spoon and handed them to Thom. They headed downstairs to the servant's eating area and Thom noted to his dismay that they were headed the wrong way - away from the dining hall. His stomach was confirming what he'd figured from his measured paces: he was quickly leaving the twenty-foot radius. He looked back the other way down the corridor and saw the servant's bedrooms. He had to think fast. He groaned and clutched his stomach, with more feeling than was truly necessary. He stumbled to one knee as Melydia turned around. He laid the bowl on the floor. "Are you alright?" she asked. "I'll be fine. I've just got a sore stomach - agh! Is there somewhere I might lie down for a while?" This had better work out, he thought. "Oh! I can put you in Jian's room for now. He'll be busy serving dinner." Melydia helped Thom to his feet with one hand, balanced the bowl in the other, and steered him in the direction of the dining hall. The queasiness from the ring's spell abated, but he kept up the act. As they passed the kitchen stairs again, he saw several servers and stewards taking platters out. His host arrived with two servants behind him. Tybalt had changed clothes as well, wearing a shirt of finest silk, trimmed with gold threads, a velvet house jacket edged with fur and quite a lot of jewelry and rings. The servants set about pouring wine and serving appetizers as Tybalt began to enthuse over his dinner guest. "I'm glad to see that the clothes fit. They were specially tailored for me some years ago but," he patted his bulging stomach, "I have outgrown them since then." Madoc was taller than Tybalt by eight inches, and the tunic wasn't that small. What was he talking about? Tybalt collected his now-filled goblet of wine. "A toast, to prosperity!" "To prosperity!" Madoc echoed, and he sipped his wine, while Tybalt took a deep draught. Madoc didn't often drink, and he couldn't think of a single time that he had wanted and needed to drink less, but he didn't see any way of politely refusing. Tybalt began a careful enquiry into Owain's prosperity. Madoc repeated the information and stories that Thom had drilled into his head all afternoon. Tybalt then began to detail his own recent successes. All were legal, and no mention of pirated art was made. Owain and Tybalt seemed to have similar business senses and Madoc began to think that a partnership between them might be a good idea. It was about this time that Madoc recognized their dinner conversation as more of a sales pitch. Thinking of it this way, Madoc found it harder to suffer through Tybalt's boasting. Still, Madoc wondered as the courses of food progressed why Owain wouldn't have anything to do with this man. Thom had said not to suggest any unscrupulous activity on his "father's" part; Owain was known to be unflaggingly honest in his dealings. Perhaps Owain knew of Tybalt's shady dealings. Whatever the reason, Madoc became bored with the merchant's preening. `It's amazing,' he thought. `I've known the man for five minutes and I hate him already.' Jian's room was rather small, furnished only with a table, a small wardrobe, a washbasin and a straw bed. Thom was sitting up on the bed, holding his stomach convincingly with one hand and feeding himself with the other. Melydia sat at the foot of the bed. They chatted, getting to know each other. When Thom had finished the bowl, Melydia told him, "That should go down all right. I'll just take your dishes back to the kitchens. You just rest here." She patted him on the shoulder as she passed. Thom winced. Melydia noticed. "Are you sore?" She set down the bowl again. "Here, let me have a look." She began to lift up Thom's shirt, but Thom resisted. He was not quick enough, however, to prevent her from seeing the bruises that covered most of his upper body. "What's happened to you?" she asked, shocked. Thom sought some appropriate lie. They'd been accompanying a coach. No help there. The highwaymen? No, they were armed; they wouldn't beat their victims. They'd cut them. Maybe his horse threw him and bolted.... Melydia saw the lie forming at his lips. "Did he do this to you?" she asked, pointing upwards. Thom stared at her, unable to decide which way to answer. Melydia took his silence for a yes. "Let me see," she said. This time Thom did not interfere as Melydia pulled off his shirt. The bruises he'd received two days ago were now beginning to fade, turning odd colors as they healed. All business, Melydia gently pressed fingers into some of the nastier ones. "Nothing seems broken in there, but then you've probably figured that out by now. These look to be a few days old." It was the third time he'd heard this diagnosis, but he didn't share the information. Melydia handed back his shirt. "Why do we have to take abuse like this from our masters? Consider the life we have. Following a man we hardly care for wherever he may go, and when he doesn't get his own way, he takes it out on us." "You mean Tybalt..." Thom let the sentence hang in the air. This was news he hadn't heard. "Well, no, but it's all the same thing, isn't it? A beating, verbal abuse or just mistreatment." Melydia lowered her voice and they both leaned in, conspiratorially. "Tybalt is an absolute pig." Seeing Thom's bruises touched one of Melydia's nerves. Sir Madoc hesitated after almost giving the wrong answer. He didn't, but for the purposes of their charade, Hadrian did. "Yes," he said belatedly. Madoc hated to lie, but at least this wasn't far from the truth. If Tybalt only knew who he was hunting tonight.... "We should go out tomorrow, if the weather permits and you have nothing pressing. I'm sure we could show each other a trick or two." Madoc nearly panicked. The thought of spending a day out riding with this man, listening to him prattle would drive the knight mad, he was sure. Thom couldn't assure him that they would be able to do what they needed to do that night. He steeled himself and muttered, "That would be marvelous, Tybalt." Tybalt took this opportunity to recount the tale behind each and every stuffed and mounted and godforsaken head on the walls. Looking at one wildcat, he saw what he imagined to be a rictus of horror. How many times had this poor animal been tortured by being forced to listen to this idiot jabber on about his own achievements? Madoc wanted to cut his own head off. Madoc drained his glass. A steward stepped up from behind, asking sympathetically, "More wine?" "Please." "Now my sister may not be able to count," Melydia continued, "but I can, and I tell you Tybalt is the father. I told him as much." Thom was surprised. "And he still keeps you here?" "I'm too useful around here to be dismissed so easily. If I left, this whole house would fall down around his ears. Except maybe the kitchens," she said grudgingly. "But my dear sister Tilda he sent to our mother because she was pregnant. His own fault, but he'll not take the responsibility! He doesn't even want to see his own son, the bastard, and I'm not referring to little Wynn either." "So why do you stay if he's so awful?" "Why do you?" she countered. Thom didn't know how to answer that. He hadn't gotten accustomed to being a beaten servant. "Besides," she went on, "I'm going to get him to help care for my nephew. If I leave, there won't be anyone here who'll dare to keep the pressure on him." Thom stroked his chin. "You say you have no proof that Tybalt is the father? Nothing you could go to the authorities with?" "They wouldn't listen if I had. Tybalt's too rich to be--" "Yes, yes," Thom interrupted, forestalling another tirade, "and you don't have any dutiful loyalty to the man?" "I'd be roasting his entrails on a spit if I thought I could get away with it," she said with some pride. "Then I think we can be of great help to each other." Thom was grinning like a fox. Madoc nodded, not sure what Tybalt was driving at. Some poor unfortunate girl's head, stuffed and mounted...? "What do you see over there, Hadrian?" Tybalt had manoeuvred them around to the side of the room across the table from the fireplace. Above the mantlepiece there hung a large painting in a gilt frame, as wide as Madoc was tall. It was nothing more than a landscape, and nothing worth its place over the hearth. But it was to this that Tybalt was directing Madoc's attention. "I see a bright, sunny countryside," Madoc said. He hoped he wasn't supposed to notice the gold frame. "Yes, but not in a moment. Have you seen your reflection in a silver or brass mirror?" "Yes, but--" Madoc started, before his mind latched onto that last word. Mirror? "But the reflection if often unclear and distorted. You have no idea what all those maidens really see in a handsome lad like you." Please no, Madoc thought. This can't be what I think it is. This whole idiotic escapade will be for naught. Please let it be anything but that. "Behold, Hadrian!" Two servants, standing on both sides of the fireplace, removed the canvas from in front of the glass behind. Madoc saw two men, one brimming with pride with his arm around the shoulder of the other, who had an expression of fascination and horror as he stared at the huge item he was supposed to steal. | ||
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