“Tarran, don’t bother the man,” said Rose sharply.
“It’s all right, I don’t mind answering,” replied Brannigan.
“He makes a habit of it, sir, always asking questions,” said Rose, pouring the tea into a chipped white cup.
“I used to do the same thing at my age.” He took hold of the cup and sipped at the tea, it was quite bitter but hot.
“I’ve no sugar, sir.”
“I like it this way,” said Brannigan, looking at the boy. “I’m from Moran.”
The boy’s eyes shifted to his mother, Brannigan knew he had another question and when she said nothing Tarran spoke up. “What’s it like in Moran?”
“It’s much warmer than here, they rarely get snow and the beaches are long and glorious. In the summer I used go swimming when I was boy.”
“One day I will go there,” said Tarran.
Brannigan liked his spirit, the girl had still not spoken, not even looked at him. “About the stables, we will need them for around week as far as I know. It depends on my master, he changes his mind constantly.”
Brannigan knew they would be gone from here in two or three days. The woman would be none the wiser, although she might put two and two together after they had left. “We will need somewhere to sleep.”
“That would be extra, would it not?” She enquired rather timidly, maybe not expecting the increased fee to be met.
Reaching for his leather purse Brannigan proceeded to count out the coins onto the table. The children’s eyes were fixed onto the coppers. They had probably never seen so much money at one time. Rose looked at the money and then back up at Brannigan as he continued counting out coins. He stopped, reached deeper into his purse and pulled out two silver coins and placed them on the table. “The silver coins are for our food and lodging,” he said as Rose peered at the coins in disbelief.
“Sir, it is too much.”
“My master would be much displeased with me if I did not pay you a fair price.”
“I thank you, sir, I and my children are very grateful.”
Sipping the last of his tea he stood up. “We will be here tonight, before the curfew. There is one more thing we should talk about. My master was burnt in a fire and his face is badly disfigured so he wears a hood and covers his face. I would ask that you respect his anguish?”
“Yes, sir, it is the least we can do.”
“Then I will bid you and your fine children farewell.”
“Will you tell me more of Moran and of other places when you come back?” asked Tarran.
“Yes of course,” said Brannigan with a smile.
They did not inform the owner of the inn that they were leaving, it was better that way, no questions could be asked. They would just disappear. Walking the horses so as not to raise any extra attention to themselves, they wound their way through the narrow streets towards the house. In another hour the curfew would be in force so there were people scurrying from house to house. No one paid them any attention. It was then that they heard shouting and horses’ hooves pounding on the cobblestones.
“Make way, make way,” came the yell as everyone moved to the side of the narrow street, soldiers riding fast with little care for pedestrians followed by three young men dressed in fine hunting clothes. It was hard to distinguish their features in the dark but the Shadow Walker saw something that stirred his blood. One of the young men, the dark haired one leading them looked like Benjamin Simms. Was he Benjamin’s son?”
If he was, then the Shadow Walker had no argument with him, Benjamin’s son could not be held accountable for what happened when he was a child, but he knew that blood ties would probably see him defend his father regardless. If that was so then he would kill him as well.
Behind the riders were pack horses led by servants. Two antlered deer lay across the backs of the horses. The palace and the governor would feast well in the coming days. It will be the governor’s last supper, thought the Shadow Walker. He would allow him that.
Arriving at the stables they found the door unlocked and an oil lamp glowing yellow hanging from one of the sturdy upright beams. Two of the stalls had been cleaned out and fresh hay was spread over the floor and in the bins. The water buckets had also been filled to the brim. While the shadow Walker saw to the horses, Brannigan took their bags and knocked on the back door of the house. Rose opened it. “Welcome, sir, your room is ready.”
Brannigan followed her, leaving the door slightly ajar. The cottage was nice and warm with the fire blazing away. The children were sitting on the floor in front of the fire. It looked like they were reading from some small cheap books that could be purchased in most market places. He was surprised that children so young could read. It seemed that the money had already been put to good use. The room they were sleeping in was small and narrow with two bunks, either side of the room.
A small window faced out onto the rear through which you could see the stables and the palace looming over them. A tiny white bleached cabinet sat between the beds up against the wall and on that was a pitcher of water and two mugs. There was also a basin and some soap. A clean towel was folded neatly beside the basin. Once again the homeliness of this woman and this house struck a sentimental chord in his memory.
He tossed the bags on the bunks and immediately noticed the thick woollen blankets and rounded pillows. They would sleep well tonight. As he returned to the main room the Shadow Walker came in. May, with fear etched on her face leapt up off the floor and hid her face in her mother’s skirts.
Rose held her daughter and looked up at the tall broad shouldered figure shrouded in the cape. She too felt a sudden pang of fear at the sight of this man. In an instant she knew that he commanded obedience, respect and maybe even subservience.
“You and your family have nothing to fear from me,” he said in a soft, reassuring voice. The gentleness in his voice surprised her as he was a formidable looking man and she sensed that he had been a warrior at one time or maybe he still was.
“A year ago May witnessed the death of one of her friends on the street. It was, Luther, the governor’s eldest son. He rides like the devil and doesn’t care about anyone in the street. He seems to think it’s his right to ride over the top of innocent men, woman and children. He has no heart that one. May has hardly spoken since.”
“How many sons does the governor have?” enquired the Shadow Walker still standing some distance away.
“There are three. Luther is by far the worst. Craig, the second eldest, follows his older brother like a puppy. Aaron, the youngest is very different. On the day May’s friend was killed he stopped and checked on the boy, but there was nothing he could do. He slipped the father some coins.”
“Maybe he just felt guilty,” uttered Brannigan.
“No, he has done this before, shown kindness to the people. I fear he’s trapped in a life that is not to his liking. I’m sorry, sir, I prattle on sometimes. Please sit down and I will get you something to eat.”
“I will eat in my room. We will talk again later.” said the Shadow Walker, turning and leaving.
Brannigan sat down and May unfurled herself from her mother’s skirts. Rose went to the large blackened pot that was simmering on the fire. May followed her and began helping with the dishing out of the meal. It was thick broth with chunky pieces of meat and vegetables. It seemed that Rose had already done some shopping and stocked up the larder. Brannigan, with the spare bowl and a couple of pieces of thick, crusty bread, took the meal to the Shadow Walker and returned. The children, with faint smiles on their faces reflecting the enjoyment of their sumptuous meal, looked up at him. Rose sat at the head of the table. “Your master is a warrior?” she asked.
“He can be rather intimidating at times,” said Brannigan, not elaborating any further.
“He frightened me when he came in.”
“People tend to be wary of him,” said Brannigan, sipping at his soup. He dipped a piece of the bread into the bowl.
“Y
ou have travelled far?” asked Rose, changing the subject.
“Five years we have been roaming the country.”
“What is it that you seek?”
“Like many people in this land my master once had riches, land, family and contentment. But this was all lost to him. In his travels he tries to help those who are in need. Sometimes he will stop and help a man build a house, plough a field or just solicit hope for those who have lost the path. We have rescued many people from bandits and thieves.”
“And what of the Lothians, do they leave you alone?”
“Like everyone else we have our problems with the Lothians,” said the Shadow Walker, appearing at the table with his now empty bowl.
“Was the soup to your liking, sir?”
“Yes, madam, it was the finest soup I have tasted in a long time,” he said, sitting down at the table with the children staring at him. “Quite a change from Brannigan’s cooking.”
Beneath the hood and in the space above the red silk scarf Rose could see the man’s blue eyes. They were clear, alert and had a hint of devilry and excitement in them, probably part of the man that used to be, but now could not be. “How long has Jeb been gone?” asked the Shadow Walker.
“Seven years now. It was his heart.”
The children finished their meal and left the table returning to their reading in front of the fire, although, Brannigan sensed that Tarran did so somewhat reluctantly.
“He was a good man.”
“Yes, he took me in when no one else would. These two were just babies then. My husband was slain by the Lothians for no reason other than their own pleasure,” she said with a slight tremble in her voice.
“We have all suffered at the hands of the Lothians. I pray that one day we will be released from their subjection,” said the Shadow Walker pausing for a moment. “It is a wonder that the Lothians, or those pretenders in the palace did not take this house from you when Jeb died?”
“Jeb let it be known that he was leaving all he had to me, told everyone that he would have the papers drawn up and the deed to the house signed over to me.”
“You have these papers?”
“Yes.”
“Might I take a look at them?”
Rose left the table and went into the other room and soon returned with a small wooden box. She sat down, opened the box and the passed the Shadow Walker a sheaf of papers. He studied them, all was in order. He passed them back to her. “Brannigan here is a master with the quill. I would suggest that you have a copy of these made for safe keeping and keep them separate.”
“It was something that I was going to do but could never afford,” she replied.
The shadow Walker stood up. “I might turn in.”
“I will join you in a moment, Master.”
Once in the room the shadow Walker stripped off his outer clothing, found his black attire and laid it out at the foot of the bed. Later tonight he would check out the tunnel and make sure it was clear. He might even take a tour of the palace.
“How was the hunt?” asked Benjamin.
“Very successful, Father, we have two fine stags to feast on,” said Luther, hugging his father as if they had been parted for a long time. Craig stood in the background silent and smiling. Luther turned to him.
“Craig was the hero of the hunt, Father. His arrows were the first to find the deer’s flanks.”
Benjamin peered at his second son, Craig, a frail skinny looking young man whom he knew was totally inept. He had too much of his mother’s side of the family in him. It would have been Luther’s arrows that struck the deer, not Craig’s. “Well done, Craig,” said Benjamin. “Where is Aaron?”
“He is seeing to the deer, Father.”
“Don’t we have servants to do that?”
“You know what Aaron’s like, Father, he has to see to those lowly tasks himself, seems to take pleasure in it.” Luther grabbed the decanter on the table and poured himself a goblet of wine.
Aaron was the son that Benjamin could not fathom. He was strong, knew how to fight and was very good with the lance and sword, but he chose at times to show a weakness toward the common people. While Benjamin liked to keep the population in fear of him, Aaron on the other hand mixed with the servants, the low life and even at times gave money to the poor. It was not the sort of conduct conducive to what he considered for any future leader of Steppland. But then it would not be Aaron who would precede him, it would be Luther. He had the will to sacrifice a few puny lives if need be. He was strong, hard, cruel and defiant. He would make a perfect successor.
“Have you eaten?” asked Benjamin as both Luther and Craig took great mouthfuls of wine from their silver goblets.
“We’re both hungry and thirsty, aren’t we, Craig?” replied Luther, slapping his brother on the back.
Benjamin yelled out to the servants for food and more wine as Aaron arrived in the dining hall. He was a tall youth of seventeen. He had broad shoulders and moved with an air of confidence. His dark hair was cut short and he was clean-shaven, his blue eyes sparkled and his tanned face showed his liking for the outdoors. “The hunt went well?” he asked.
“Yes, Father, it went very well, except that we lost one of the servants.”
“An unfortunate accident, Father,” said Luther from behind his short dark beard. He brushed his shoulder length hair back away from his face, his brown eyes glaring at Aaron. “An arrow missed the deer and hit one of the servants.”
“These things happen,” replied Benjamin.
Aaron was about to argue, to take it further when his mother appeared. She reached out to him first and hugged him. Of all her sons it was Aaron who was her favourite, although she had to agree with her husband that he was too soft to rule. She gave Craig and Luther a hug as well.
“Mother, you are looking well, and is that a new dress?” asked Luther.
Myra had received a shipment of fine silks from overseas. The green silk had taken her eye and straight away she had a dress made from it.
“It’s the latest in silks,” she said as she pirouetted.
“It’s a lovely dress, Mother,” added Craig.
“Maybe you can donate some of the off-cuts of silk to the widow and the children of the servant Luther killed,” said Aaron with obvious disgust.
“Aaron! I will hear no more of this. Now sit down and partake of some food and wine,” growled Benjamin, losing patience with his son.
“I think I’ll eat in the kitchen.” Aaron turned sharply and left the dining room.
“Go and speak with him, Myra. The boy seems to think that a servant’s life has some value.”
Myra found Aaron seated at the huge wooden table in the kitchen eating a piece of pie and washing it down with a tankard of ale. A young servant girl, pretty and petite was standing beside him. When she saw Myra she lowered her eyes and scurried from the kitchen. The girl was only fourteen but her innocent grey-blue eyes followed Aaron everywhere. The young girl was besotted with him. Myra tried to have the young woman removed from the household, but Aaron, learning of his mother’s intentions had warned her against it. He was so bloody defiant at times. But she admired that in him. At least he was his own man and would not be influenced by her or any other member of the family. Even so, it was so frustrating to have to deal with his petty desires, which were usually linked to the common people. In another time Aaron might have been a great leader. “Did you enjoy the hunt?” she asked, sitting opposite him.
“I always enjoy the hunt, Mother.”
“You must stop arguing with your father and brothers.” She held up her hand as Aaron went to speak. “Hear me out, for there have been some incidents of importance. The king sent his cavalry to Tursy. They killed the priests and some of the pilgrims.”
“That is sheer madness. The people will not stand for the priests being slain.”
“There is more, it seems out of this has risen a young woman, a woman of some skill. She killed some of Goran’s soldiers and the
n slew Penner, one of the king’s men in a duel. She also delivered the flag of a Shadow Walker.”
“There is no such thing as a Shadow Walker. They are doubtful tales from the past.”
“Many still believe, like your father. This supposed Shadow Walker then went to Goran’s camp; beheaded seven of his men arranged six heads in a circle with the seventh in the centre. Your father thinks I don’t know about this, he has kept it from me. He, like everyone else believes it’s a warning, the kingdom is to fall and your father fears for his life.”
“So that’s why there are extra guards at the gates and at the palace doors.”
“Yes, your father has placed a curfew on the city. As you know from the ancient stories, Shadow Walkers come in the night.”
“Mother,” said Aaron rising from his chair and walking around to her side, “there is nothing to fear, there is no such thing as a Shadow Walker.”
“Then who put the white flag with the black skull on it at the crossroads on the road from Tursy?”
“It was probably just someone playing a joke, Mother.”
“I have tried to stay strong for your father’s sake. I had to talk to someone and express my fears. You are the only one I can talk to.”
Aaron put his arm around his mother and held her firmly. “I’ll protect you, Mother. I will speak to Father about this.”
“Thank you,” she said rising from her seat and dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
Aaron returned to the dining room where his father and brothers were still feasting.
“Decided to join us then?” asked Luther.
Aaron sat down at the table, ripped a drumstick off the chicken and took a bite from it. “Mother tells me that the king sent his troops into Tursy, killing the priests and some of the pilgrims.”
“It is so,” replied his father.
“She also told me that a Shadow Walker has returned to the land.”
“Shadow Walkers are bogeymen, stories made up by old women to scare children,” said Craig, leaning back in his seat.
“I seem to remember you believing in them as a child.”
The Orphan and the Shadow Walker Page 27
