*
“Come in!” Tiberius yelled in reply to the knock on his door. “But make it quick, I’m not staying long.”
He was busy filling a saddlebag with supplies and looked up to see one of the Hunt attendants walk in sheepishly. Ordinarily he would have reproached himself for being short with one of the staff, but he had already delayed his departure far too long.
“Pardon sir, but Mr. Drummond asked me to bring you this letter and to bring him back your response,” he said, managing to keep his nerve and refrain from stuttering or mumbling.
Tiberius grabbed the offered letter and quickly scanned it, pausing at the end upon seeing Lord Cleaver’s signature. It was a request, but more like a demand, to ride to Rivermead and investigate a problem at the distillery. Apparently the latest whiskey delivery to the Manor was delayed, which was very uncommon.
Rivermead was a small village built around a distillery founded by the Manor at its inception. It only created one drink, a dark scotch that was bottled in dark glass, with a black bird on the label. Each member of the Hunt and their pack was fully stocked with bottles and enjoyed a daily belt of the water of life. The whispered rumours said it was magically distilled and was the reason those from the Manor lived longer than anyone else on the island.
Tiberius almost snorted in amusement, recalling all of the rumours surrounding the drink. He knew it was delicious, expensive, and thus of intense interest to the Manor. This amusement was short lived however when he realized that Rivermead was in the complete opposite direction of the Crows Nest.
Had Cleaver discovered his plan to rescue Lord Lodge, or was this simply a coincidence? He couldn’t be sure either way, but it would be suspicious if he ignored Dr. Cleaver’s simple request.
“Inform Mr. Drummond that I will attend to this at once,” he told the attendant as he pocketed the letter. “Find Dufresne and Morgan on your way and tell them to come here.”
The young man nodded and quickly left the room, eager to complete his task.
Tiberius grabbed a flashlight and a pistol from his desk drawer and put it in his bag before fastening it up. He picked up his long black leather jacket that was folded across the back of his desk chair, putting it on in one fluid motion. The door opened after a quick knock as he swung the saddlebag over his shoulder.
“Ready to go?” he demanded of his men as they entered. Both nodded silently, making him inwardly pleased at their competence and reverence. They had been unruly ruffians with chequered pasts before arriving at the Manor. However Tiberius had seen something in them and eventually worked them into a well oiled machine devoted to him.
The Manor was slowly coming back to life as the last members of the Hunt finally made their way to the North Tower. Years of experience made the staff recede into the lower levels of the building when the Hunt was on the warpath. It had not been uncommon in earlier years for a maid or footman to get injured by overzealous pack members.
With the majority of the Hunt members gone, it allowed the various maids, valets, and servants to continue their tasks without the threat of interruption. Tiberius and his men made their way through the renewed throng with ease, as the staff immediately parted to the side upon the sight of the serious looking black clad men.
They reached the stables within minutes and began strapping the collected gear to their mounts.
“If we’re assaulting the Crows Nest I figured we’d need some firepower,” offered Morgan as he grabbed a pair of modern automatic rifles and passed them to his compatriots with a grin. For himself, Morgan hefted a long dark sniper rifle and his grin turned into a toothy smile.
“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Dufresne observed sensibly as he hefted his weapon and checked it.
“Agreed. But there’s been a change of plan, we have to go to Rivermead first,” Tiberius replied, then explaining their new task.
“Someone probably broke a wagon wheel,” Morgan surmised without much thought. “At least we’ll be able to get something to drink for the rest of this expedition.”
“I think not,” interjected Tiberius without humour. “We should be leaving for the Crows Nest now, but instead we’re riding hours in the opposite direction. With Lord Lodge’s life in our hands we’ll be riding non-stop, without rest, and with clear heads. Let’s go.”
Chapter 17
A Malevolent Manner (Patrick Pierce #1) Page 62
