They stood at opposite sides of the hallway, both breathing heavily, sweat streaming down their faces.
“This is becoming tiresome,” Anton said, “will you admit defeat?”
The house-guard roared and bore down on the intruder.
“I thought not,” Anton muttered. He side-stepped at the last minute, tripping the guard, who went sprawling.
The guard scrambled to his feet, glaring from beneath ridged brows.
“Who taught you to fight, your grandmother?” Anton asked.
The guard swept his sword angrily across the front of his body, striking Anton’s sword from his grasp and sending it clattering across the floor.
“You talk too much,” the guard said.
Anton dodged left and right, trying to avoid his opponent’s sword, and at the same time looking for a way to dodge past him and make for the stairs.
“Ah, Mr. Grimwade, there you are!” Anton said loudly, looking over the guard’s shoulder. Perhaps the big man was stupid enough to fall for such an old ruse?
He wasn’t. He grinned and shook his head. “Time to die, little thief!”
The guard lunged. Anton threw himself down on the ground, tucking himself into a ball and rolling. He knocked the house-guard off his feet, and the man fell forward, his forehead hitting the wall with a loud thunk. This would have knocked any normal man senseless, but the big man staggered back groggily, clutching his head. The sword fell from his fingers, and Anton snatched up.
Before the guard could recover, Anton used the pommel of the sword to club him behind the ear. The man fell to his knees, but still did not go down. Another blow to the back of the head finally floored him.
“You have, without doubt, the thickest skull I have ever encountered,” Anton said, gasping. He retrieved his own sword and headed for the stairs.
Anton burst through the door into Grimwade’s front room.
“Where is Edric Edison?” he asked loudly.
Startled, the hunchback turned around, pointing a shaky had to the armchair opposite him. Edison was slumped in the chair, unconscious.
“What have you done to him?” Anton asked.
“I haven’t touched him,” Grimwade said, blushing guiltily.
“Then what happened to him?”
“Wine,” Grimwade said.
“Yes please,” Edison murmured, his head lolling drunkenly and his eyelids flickering.
“Why have you abducted him?” Anton asked.
“I didn’t abduct him, I rescued him,” Grimwade said.
“Rescued him?”
“From the assassins.”
“Assassins?”
“A wizened little man and a tall blond god,” Grimwade said.
“Gosling and Bryn Fairfax,” Anton said.
“You know them? Wait, you’re who they were looking for. You’re Anton Leyander.”
“At your service,” Anton said, bowing deeply.
The hunchback scrambled to his feet. “Barnaby Grimwade, sir, at yours.” He bowed awkwardly.
“What did you do with the assassins?”
“I haven’t touched them,” Grimwade said quickly.
“I meant, where are they?”
“Locked them up, downstairs.”
“And Master Edison is also your prisoner?” Anton asked.
“He is my guest,” Grimwade said. “We came back here to discuss a little business matter.”
“I told you, I don’t want to do that,” Edison muttered sleepily.
“There is a debt that must be repaid,” Grimwade said.
“Gambling debts?” Anton asked.
Grimwade shook his head. “Money borrowed to pay for healing,” he said.
“The amulet?” Anton’s hand went to the metal talisman at his throat.
“You and he must be very good friends for him to have put himself so deeply into debt in order to buy it,” Grimwade said.
“He was repaying another debt, of sorts,” Anton said. “You mentioned a business proposition that would clear the debt?”
The hunchback smiled. “Why don’t we have a little drink while I explain it to you?”
“Tell him I don’t want to do it,” Edison muttered, “I’m not putting my hands anywhere near that body...”
Grimwade laughed uncomfortably. “I’ll pour us some wine.”
“Yes, please!” Edison said, sitting bolt upright, his eyes still closed.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Edison groaned. He could smell sandalwood, a fragrance favoured by many of the more fashionable gentlemen this spring.
“You are in my parlour,” Grimwade’s voice.
“What?”
“I was anticipating your first question.”
“I see. Where am – oh.” The room stopped spinning and slowly came into focus. He was lying on a couch in a richly decorated room.
“What time is it?” Edison asked.
“A little after six,” Grimwade said.
“In the evening?”
“No, it is morning.”
Edison might have argued that this was the middle of the night as far as he was concerned, but he lacked the strength.
The hunchback limped forward. He wore a loose shirt of cream silk, with an open collar and full sleeves. Suede breeches were tucked into finely crafted supple leather boots, perfectly cobbled to fit Grimwade’s mismatched feet. Clean-shaven, hair combed and nails scrubbed, the hunchback looked like a member of the gentry at leisure. He smelled of sandalwood.
“Close your mouth Edric, I might fall in,” Grimwade smiled. “Before you ask, yes, this is me. This is my private persona, the other is my – public image: it suits much better my business self. Few but my closest aides see me at leisure.”
“I am indeed impressed, sir. You look so – normal.” The last wasn’t quite the compliment he had been aiming for, but the hunchback chose to accept the remark as it had been intended.
“Thank you, Edric. You will become accustomed to seeing me at my most normal, as you and I become better acquainted.”
Edison didn’t like the sound of that. Could he make his break now, get past the hunchback and escape? Where were the henchmen? He’d have the element of surprise on his side. But his head ached and his stomach churned, and he doubted he’d get very far. He struggled to sit, and faced Grimwade.
“Why did you have me brought here? Why are you holding me prisoner?”
“You are no prisoner, Edric. You are free to leave at any time. But there is the little matter of an unpaid debt. I have a little deed which I would like you to perform, in exchange for which your debt will be cancelled and the small matter of breaking into my home will be forgotten. I know you will forgive me for bringing you here by force, because I do indeed have urgent need of your help. I am also prepared to pay you a little something in addition. Would you like some breakfast?”
“I think not. But I would like something to drink.” Edison’s stomach churned and his mouth was textured like an old suede boot. He was distracted from these discomforts by the waves of pain pulsed through his skull. “What did you drop on my head?” Edison asked, when the hunchback returned with his drink.
Grimwade looked confused. “What? Oh, you have a headache? That would be the two bottles of wine.”
“I was assaulted with two bottles of wine?”
“If you were, the injuries were self-inflicted,” Grimwade said.
“I see,” said Edison, who didn’t. “Tell me of this most urgent quest you would send me on.”
“Are you certain you feel up to it?” Grimwade leaned towards him, concerned.
“No, but tell me anyway.” Edison felt tired and weighed down by the aches of his body. He knew his body was dulling the worst of his pains, saving them for when he was better able to appreciate them. Until then he could lie in this half-aware state and listen to whatever distasteful deed the hunchback had lined up for him to perform.
“If there is anything I can ge
t you, please ask. I want you to see me as a friend, to see that I am a generous man. I want you to like me. I like you Edric, because you and I are very much alike.”
Edison let the comment pass, he was sure it wasn’t intended as an insult.
“We are both thieves,” the hunchback explained. “I was brought up in the house of – well, a nobleman, names are unimportant now. I was kept around as the rich man’s fool, a fate often reserved for those such as I,” Grimwade’s gesture took in his whole misshapen body. “I was ridiculed, dressed up as a clown or a child. The people here taunt me, mock me, but they can’t call me anything I didn’t hear a thousand times back then. The years have taken away any hurt the words might cause. Almost.
“The noble lord of the house would take out his moods on me. He would kick me and beat me, parade me naked for the amusement of his guests. I learned who I was, what I was: I was ugly. I was a freak – on the outside. But inside I was only a man.
“I wasn’t stupid: I plotted and used my position in the household to my advantage. No one took me seriously and no gave me much heed. So I stole. I hoarded what I stole, built up a reasonable sum. I picked pockets and purses during the banquets.
“I waited until I had enough to pay for my passage here, enough to set up a new life, to set up business here. Again, I used my position to my advantage. People loathed my ugly form, and I chose to make myself more repellent. People see me as a monster, they don’t understand me, so they hate me. They fear me. I used this against them and built my little empire here. Safe, and with me in control. No one to order me around. Me, almost a respected member of society. Almost but never quite. As close as I can come.” Grimwade turned to face his mute audience. “I never told that to anyone. To tell someone your secrets is to give them a piece of you, a hold over you. You put yourself at their mercy: they can throw it back at you and use it to hurt you. Or laugh at your life and make it petty. But you’re not laughing at me, Edric. I thought you wouldn’t. I hoped I could trust you.
“I was very happy with my new life here. I married Griselda, the marriage was agreed between her mother and myself, a business deal in reality. Their family operates much as I do in a neighbouring county. Their dowry enabled me to expand my influence, and they were happy to have this town watched over by a member of their own family. I was happy, I thought. Until I saw you in town. You were young, brash, happy and had no responsibilities and no one to hold you back. With your perfect body and so much promise in you, you made me so jealous. I felt a yearning – for a youth I never had, or for a son I could never have, who knows? I watched you. I played dice to get close to you. You fascinated me with your vitality. You made me feel restless somehow.”
“You want to own me? To keep me locked up here, another one of your beautiful possessions?” Edison asked.
“No!” the hunchback cried. “You don’t understand. I thought you would.” Grimwade was silent for some time. Edison knew he had offended him, but didn’t know what to say now to try and repair the mood he had broken. Eventually, Grimwade began to speak again, softly, not looking at Edison as he spoke.
“When I first came here I had little money, but I soon amassed enough to buy this house. I wanted to furnish it with the most beautiful and the most exotic things I could find. I would go down to the docks when the trading ships came in and bid for the carpets and the fabrics in auction.
“One day, one of the ships sailed in with cages of birds tied to the deck. Such brightly coloured plumage as you can only dream of,” Grimwade stared into space, imagining the scene.
“Whilst they were unloading the cages, one of them broke and a bird escaped: blue tail feathers and a bright yellow breast, and red plumes on its blue head... so beautiful. It flew up into a tree that grew beside the road leading down to the dock. And it began to sing. It was the loveliest, happiest sound I had ever heard. I decided there and then that I wanted that bird. I paid the captain of the ship for the bird, then gave three of the dock waifs a silver piece each to catch the bird and bring it to my house. It was late in the afternoon when they brought it here, and I put it into that cage there.” Grimwade pointed to a large cage of woven cane which stood empty in a corner of the room. “I sat and I watched the bird and waited for it to sing. But it did not sing that evening. I rose before dawn the next day to hear it sing at sunrise, but it did not sing. The bird refused to eat the fruits I brought for it, and as the days passed the bird’s colours began to fade. Inside a week, the bird was dead. Perhaps it was sad at being taken away from its natural home. Perhaps it was lonely because it had been separated from its kind. Perhaps it just hated being caged. Certainly it was sad. It lived only six days in captivity, and never once did it sing. I was deeply upset, of course. I have never bought another bird to put into the cage. It stays empty, as a sort of reminder. A symbol. Do you understand?”
Grimwade turned to Edison, who nodded slowly.
“Liberty is important. I feel the need myself for a little more freedom. That is why I ask you to help me out with my little problem.” The hunchback sat down beside Edison, leaned towards him and spoke in hushed tones of the small matter which he wanted taking care of and how he intended it done.
“No! I cannot do it!” Edison sprang to his feet, instantly regretting it. He stood swaying before the hunchback, who got to his feet and laid a steadying hand on Edison’s elbow, a look of concern on his face.
“But your partner has already agreed to do it, Edric. He was most keen to assist you in paying off the debt that you owe. Of course, he could not formally accept my proposal until he had discussed the matter with you.”
“Of course. Which partner of mine is it that we are talking about here?” Edison said, holding his head.
“Leyander, naturally.”
“Leyander?”
“Anton Leyander. You acted opposite him on stage last month, remember?” The hunchback leaned forward, concerned. “Are you sure you’re alright Edric? That attack last night hasn’t damaged your head, has it? Can you remember what year it is?”
“No, no. I’m fine. Really,” Edison tried to convince himself. He sat down again.
“Naturally, I don’t expect you to make a decision on the matter until you have spoken to your partner,” Grimwade said.
“No, no, I must speak with him.”
One of Grimwade’s men knocked on the door and hurried in without waiting to be called. He cast a wary glance in Edison’s direction, then leaned forward to whisper in his master’s ear.
“A matter has arisen which requires my attention. I will have someone bring more coffee up from the kitchen, and leave you alone to rest, and consider my request.” The hunchback turned to follow the man out, he paused in the doorway. “Edric, I am curious to know how you managed to win those dice games at the inn the other day.”
“I was just lucky, I suppose.” Edison tried to sound as though he was surprised by the question. Innocent.
“Come, come, Mr. Edison, feigning naiveté may get you a free meal from one of your matronly patrons, but I am of a more cynical mind. How did you do it?”
Edison showed Grimwade the amulet that hung on the leather thong around his neck.
“I expected as much. Such a charm would cost you a considerable sum, more than the sum you owed to me. Why go to such expense?”
“I suppose I just wanted to beat you. Cheat you at your own game – get the better of you,” Edison smiled weakly.
“Ah, pride: a weakness of the young.” Grimwade smiled and turned to leave.
*
Gosling opened his eyes and stared into the gloom; he’d hoped to wake and find that his captivity had been part a dream, but he was still in the small cell under the hunchback’s house. The stone walls seemed to shimmer and dance in the light from the single torch burning in a holder by the door. Through the tiny barred window high in the wall he could see the pre-dawn sky.
Gosling was lying on a stone ledge, which had been strewn with straw. Iron manacles aroun
d his wrists and ankles were connected by a heavy chain connected to an iron ring set into the wall.
“Was it a nightmare, or are we really somewhere horrible?” Bryn asked. He was similarly chained in the gloom beside Gosling.
“Why don’t you open your eyes and see?” Gosling asked.
The blond assassin opened one eye briefly, then shut it. “We are chained up in a cell.”
“Such powers of observation,” Gosling muttered.
They stopped and listened as someone approached the door to their cell. Keys jangled, one rattled in the lock. The heavy iron-banded door swung in despite the protest of its hinges.
“When you think your circumstances cannot possibly get any worse,” Gosling muttered, “they suddenly do!”
“I must get that thing oiled: it is so long since we had guests. I’m sorry, what was that?” The hunchback turned toward the little man.
“I said: Greetings, Mr. Grimwade. How goes it with you?”
“Never better.” Hands nonchalantly clasped behind his back, Grimwade paced the cell.
“And how are you?” he asked.
“Well, under the circumstances,” Gosling said.
“I’m hungry,” Bryn said sulkily, without opening his eyes.
“Why are we being held prisoner here?” Gosling asked.
“I have yet to decide what to do with the two of you. I could hand you over to the Guard: I’m certain that they would pay some form of reward to get their hands on two professional – I’m being generous, of course – assassins. On the other hand, your friend is rather attractive and I could put him to better use.”
“Oh, gods!” Bryn groaned.
“So you see, I am undecided. There is the little matter of Anton Leyander, of course: you have yet to tell me who it was that hired you to put an end to his life,” Grimwade said.
“We cannot tell you because we do not know,” Bryn said.
“We were hired by an intermediary,” Gosling confirmed.
Fortune's Fools Page 29
