Anton stopped and stared at her, then grabbed her by the shoulders and planted a kiss on her cheek.
“We must celebrate,” Anton said, “you and I: good food and great wine...”
Meg stepped away from him. “I cannot,” she said. “I must deliver this most excellent news to my good friend Edric Edison.”
“Then I must bid you good night and away to celebrate alone,” Anton said. “Thank you again.”
Meg watched Anton dance across the market square, turning happy somersaults, and startling an elderly couple who muttered something about ‘young folk’ and what they ought not be allowed to do.
Chapter Fifteen
Megan Jarrett awoke to the sound of something clattering against her window. She thought at first it was hail, but the sound was too irregular, too short-lived. She slid out from under the covers and pulled on a robe. The fire had died and the room was cool. What was that? A new sound.
Singing?
Someone was singing under her window. At this hour. She reached under the bed for the chamber pot, then went to the window.
I had a love that was fair and true,
But she is gone and I feel blue.
Her voice was soft, like summer rain,
The silence now does cause me pain.
It was Edison. Meg stifled a giggle. She wasn’t sure whether this was a terribly romantic gesture or a terribly drunken one. It was certainly terrible. She set down the pisspot and pulled on her boots, then hurried downstairs.
My love had eyes of brightest blue,
Now she is gone, what shall I do?
I lie at night and cannot sleep,
My lonely heart does make me weep.
Our love is a memory I will keep,
Like the sea it was wide and deep.
If I can I will win her back,
If I cannot, my heart will crack.
My broken heart will end this woe,
My lifeless body will lie there to show,
How her absence did make me beg,
Forgive me, I cannot live without you Meg.
Edison saw her standing in the doorway. “Did you hear?” he asked.
“I did hear something. I thought it to be an animal in pain and came down to help.”
“I was singing for you,” Edison said. He stuck out his lower lip in his best sulk.
“I know, I was teasing. Was the song of your own devising?”
“Yes, could you tell?” Edison asked.
“No, no. I thought it most professionally composed. Well sung, too.”
“I wanted to let you know how much you mean to me. There are more verses if you would like to hear them?” He drew a deep breath in readiness.
“Not now, not now,” Meg held up a hand to stop him.
“I could come inside and share the rest of my song with you,” Edison suggested.
“I do not think that would be appropriate.”
Edison glanced up towards her bedroom window. “You are not alone?”
Meg smiled, pleased he had given her this opportunity to bait him. And better pleased when he took her smile to be an affirmative.
“Not that vagabond pantomimer?”
“He has a name – Anton Leyander.”
“I see,” Edison said. “And just what do you see in this Anton Leyander. What does he have that I do not?” Edison asked.
“Intelligence, wit, good manners, sensitivity, humility, grace, beauty, sincerity, innocence, modesty, good-temper, a sense of humour, selflessness, style, courage, honour, generosity, self-restraint, and charm,” Meg said. She drew breath, intending to continue.
“Yes, but what do you actually see in him?” Edison asked. “We are supposed to be together, you and I. Fate meant it so.”
“How can that be, when I am happier now that we are apart?” Meg asked.
“But I am completely miserable.”
“A judgement I would not disagree with.”
“If you will not have me back, at least put an end to my misery,” Edison said.
“Why should I wish to do that? I am happy in the knowledge that you feel wretched.”
“I cannot go on if you are not by my side. I beg you, take my sword, end my life and my heartache.” Edison drew his sword and offered it to her, hilt first.
“Oh, very well.” Meg reached for the sword.
Edison pulled it away from her. “You would do that? Run me through?”
“If that is what you want.”
Edison quickly sheathed his sword. “How is it that we have come to this, that you would happily stick me with my own sword?” he asked.
Meg shrugged. “Love becomes hate, it is in the way of things.”
“It was not so long ago that you watched me on stage and wanted me in the role f lover. And I would have done anything in my power to make you smile,” Edison said.
“It took some time before you plucked up the courage to begin the courtship,” Meg said. “And now the initial thrill is over, what do we have in common, you and I?”
“Tell me that this is some cruel joke, and that all is still right between us.”
“Do not make yourself into the joke. Face the truth. I found your companionship pleasurable, but the desire we felt was not strong enough to last,” Meg said.
“Go then. I would not keep you out here against your will. I have been stupid, I see that now, to think that you could love me. You care for no one but yourself. I was merely another diversion for you. I do not understand how you can so easily treat someone this way, but I must accept it. Forget about me, for I have forgotten you already. Go!”
Meg disappeared back inside.
Edison stared at the closed door. “Meg, wait!”
*
Edison turned into a narrow, cobbled street musing on the several problems which seemed in danger of bringing his life down about his ears, and suddenly found his way blocked by one of the hunchback’s men.
“Mister Grimwade wants to see you.”
“Tell him I’ll drop by in the morning,” Edison said. He tried to move around the man, who placed a large hand on his chest to stop him.
“He says now.” Threatening.
Edison took several steps back and seemed to consider.
“Very well.” He stepped forward, stumbled and fell towards the man.
Grimwade’s messenger caught Edison and set him back on his feet.
“Thank you. Where were we?” Edison turned and took off at speed away from the man.
The hunchback’s man tried to give chase. He fell flat on his face, breeches around his ankles. He struggled to his feet, examining the belt that Edison had cut behind his back when he’d stumbled into him.
Edison hurtled around the corner into the main street, sliding a little but regaining his footing quickly. He ran straight into Grimwade.
Winded, Edison staggered back, gasping.
“Ah, there you are, Edric. There was no need to rush,” the hunchback said. “But now you are here, why don’t we stroll along to my house – it is only a few steps from here.” He gripped Edison’s elbow firmly.
Grimwade’s house was the equal of any that Edison had seen in the town. Bright airy rooms were decorated in subtle pastel shades. Hand-stencilled wallpapers and luxurious rugs formed the setting for glossy walnut furniture and marble sculptures. As might be expected from the taste of both owners, the adult male form predominated in these and other works of art. White marble athletes posed tirelessly against mint green walls. Plants hung in baskets constructed from cleverly knotted strings suspended from the ceiling, and small ornamental bushes sprouted from terra-cotta pots in corners.
There was a loud banging from the floor above.
Grimwade smiled, a little embarrassed. “My wife is entertaining.”
“The sight of her makes me laugh – sorry,” Edison said.
“She has appetites that I am disinclined to satisfy, as you might guess,” he sighed. “It grows more and more difficult to secure the servic
es of men to take my place.”
There was a loud clatter that shook the ceiling above them.
“It sounds as if she is fighting him off,” Edison said.
“I very much doubt that.”
There was a crash and the tinkling of glass. The lower half of a naked man suddenly swung into view outside the parlour window; he was obviously hanging from the bedroom window of the floor above.
“A nice view you have here,” Edison said. “Does she normally play such dangerous pre-sex games?”
“I fear that it is no game, and that the young fellow is attempting to escape her clutches,” Grimwade said.
“You should have paid him more,” Edison said.
“How much should one pay a man to give up his life?” Grimwade asks.
Edison frowned. “She kills them?”
“The fortunate ones die,” Grimwade said. “She is not a gentle lover, and is excited by their screams.”
Edison and the hunchback both shuddered.
The young man released his grip on the window ledge above and dropped to the ground. He picked himself up and sprinted off down the street.
There was a loud wailing from the room above.
“She will not take off down the street after him, will she?” Edison asked.
“It has been known. It is more likely that she will come down here and subject me to a verbal scourging. Perhaps you should leave, return later?”
“Too late,” Edison said.
Thunderous footsteps descended the stair.
“Do not let her catch you unawares: she will begin quietly, pouting and childlike, but her screeching will split rocks before a minute is up. Prepare your ears!”
The door opened quietly, and Griselda stood there in a short night-gown. Her legs and feet were bare, blue-veined and hairy.
“Pumpkin?” she said, her head on one side, her weight on one stout leg, in what she took to be a provocative pose. She was almost as broad as she was tall. There was no waist as such, and her head seemed to grow from her shoulders with no evidence of a neck.
“My sweet, down so soon? I expected you to be preoccupied all afternoon,” Grimwade said. “Allow me to introduce my wife, Griselda. Griselda, this is Edric Edison, he is an actor.”
“My gods, Grimwade, you are married to a troll,” Edison whispered.
Griselda stuck out a large wet lower lip. “I’ve lost my new toy,” she said.
“That was careless of you, darling.”
“Get me another one.” There was a hard edge to her voice.
“I will send one of the men out to locate something suitable.” Grimwade said.
“Do it now.”
“I am discussing an important matter with Edric, dearest.”
“Either find me a new distraction, or climb those stairs with me yourself: it is a simple choice.”
Grimwade swallowed.
Griselda looked Edison up and down, and her leer was quite frightening to behold. “He’ll do,” she said.
“He is not for you,” Grimwade said.
Her smile faded, to be replaced by a pout. “But I need another one,” she whined.
Grimwade smiled at Edison and shrugged apologetically. “My dear, if you were more gentle with them, they might last longer.”
Her face clouded. “If I had married a real man, I would have no need of them at all! You know that it was part of our marriage agreement that you furnished me with these distractions,” she said, menacingly. “Perhaps you would like me to tell mummy how mean you are being to me?”
“No, of course not!” Grimwade said quickly.
“Then let me have him,” she said firmly.
Edison felt as though he was the last slice of toast they were arguing over. “Your husband did indeed approach me to provide you with a little entertainment,” Edison said. “But I am afraid that I have recently fallen victim to infestation by a certain parasite: the little fellows are sending me near insane with their itching!” Edison scratched at his groin.
“Eeergh!” Griselda stepped back, rocking her shoulders as though her back itched in a spot she could not scratch. “Well, I will leave you two to conclude whatever business it is that you were conducting.” She shot a final glance at Grimwade. “I will speak with you when you are finished here.”
“Yes, my love.”
Edison hid his smile as the closed. “What a lovely woman. You should go out walking with her at your side: she makes you look positively handsome.”
Grimwade ignored the comment. “Sometimes I just do not know how to deal with that woman,” he admitted.
“Have you thought of using an axe?” Edison asked.
“Frequently.” He stared at Edison for a moment, as if considering his next question carefully. “Edric,” he said. “Was it true what you said? About...” He made scratching motions.
“Of course not!” Edison said. “It was merely a convenient fiction.”
Grimwade sighed. “Oh, good.” He smiled. “It is fortunate that you just happened to meet my wife.”
“I might argue that point,” Edison said.
“You would agree that she is a formidable woman?”
“I would agree that she is formidable; as for being a woman, I am prepared to take your word on the matter.”
“You understand, though, why it is that I do what I can to keep her happy?”
Edison nodded. “I’m sure she can get quite unpleasant when she’s upset,” he said, smirking. “But what has this to do with the small sum that I owe you?”
“There is a small task I would like you to perform for me,” Grimwade said. “In exchange for which I am prepared to cancel your outstanding debts, and perhaps to pay you a little extra in addition.”
“And what might this task be?” Edison asked, suspicious.
“It concerns my wife and a small accident she is soon to have,” the hunchback said. “I want you to help me rid myself of her burden,” Grimwade said.
Edison frowned, then realisation dawned. “You intend to murder her?”
“Sssh!” The hunchback quickly glanced left and right to ensure no one had overheard. “A terrible accident, tragic circumstances, and you will help me arrange it.”
“No. Stop this at once. I cannot do it,” Edison protested.
“Remember that you are in my debt, Edric.”
“And I have until Friday to repay the debt.”
“But will you have the money by Friday?” Grimwade asked. He smiled as a look of doubt clouded Edison’s face. “Surely you will at least consider it?”
“I could not do it,” Edison protested. “No matter what the price.”
“Really? On Friday, when you come to me and say that you do not have the money you owe, I might decide to give you to my wife after all.”
“You wouldn’t?”
The hunchback smiled.
Edison shrugged. “I have three more days to repay my debt; and even if I cannot do so, I must face whatever fate you plan for me, for I cannot murder another.”
Grimwade patted Edison’s arm. “Just think on it,” he urged. “And if you reconsider, as the weekend approaches, seek me out.”
Chapter Sixteen
Sheldrake waited in the shadows until he heard the serving boy coming up the stairs. He stepped into view, startling the youth so the jug and glasses on the tray rattled.
“I will take that in,” Sheldrake said. He stood holding the tray and waited until the boy had bowed and retreated down the stairs. He knocked on the iron-studded door.
“Enter.”
Sheldrake closed the door behind him. “You wished to see me, Captain Torrance?” He set the tray down on Torrance’s table, and at a nod from the captain, poured wine into the glasses.
“I wanted to congratulate you on your promotion,” Torrance said flatly.
“That is very kind of you, sir. I am honoured that Lord Eòghan chose me above the other candidate.” Sheldrake handed one of the glasses to Tor
rance, who indicated he should take the second glass and sit down opposite him.
“His lordship and I held extensive discussions before your promotion was confirmed,” Torrance said, aware that Sheldrake would guess the truth: Torrance had opposed the decision, wanting Walcott promoted to be his first lieutenant, and Lord Eòghan had overruled him. Perhaps after a few months in the role, Sheldrake would be eager to take on the role of captain, and would move on to another company in anther town for that.
“I look forward to working more closely with you, captain,” Sheldrake said.
Torrance saw the mocking half-smile, and it annoyed him greatly. “You understand, I hope, what standards will be expected of you? I shall be monitoring and reporting on your progress personally. His lordship will not be pleased if his faith in you proves to be unfounded.”
“I shall strive to exceed his expectations, with the benefit of your experience and guidance.”
“It shall be your first duty to maintain discipline: the Guards must be at their posts, uniforms clean and complete, and the men properly washed and shaved. And while they maintain order in the town, they must also demonstrate proper respect for the people they serve. And that means our behaviour must – at all times – set an example that the people can follow. Make the men aware of what is needed from them, and proud to achieve it.” Torrance shifted uncomfortable under his new lieutenant’s unblinking gaze.
“I will seek to follow your example in all things,” Sheldrake said.
Torrance drained his glass. “Do not look so glum, Sheldrake. I do not mean to imply any criticism, only to warn you not to expect this to be easy. The men have to salute you, but you will have to earn their respect.” A trickle of blood ran down Torrance’s shirt front. He touched a finger to his moustache, and it came away wet with blood. He pinched the bridge of his nose to try and stem the flow. “Find me a cloth to prevent this mess worsening,” Torrance mumbled around his hand.
Sheldrake did not move. He sat back in his seat, watching. He smiled.
“Move, damn it!” Torrance said, glaring at Sheldrake, who did not move. Torrance’s hands were red with his blood, and the flow showed no signs of abating. “Call for some assistance, man. I hate to see my life flowing out of me this way.”
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