The Baker's Boy

by J. V. Jones

  The mercenaries were now looking in his direction. Running, he had probably left tracks. Jack became weak with fear. Should he stay where he was or should he at least try to outrun the men? He didn't feel comfortable hiding-the need for action was upon him. Grabbing a tight hold on his sack, he jumped up and started to run. As he fled, he heard the shout of the armed men as they spied him in the distance. With speed born of desperation, Jack ran like the wind.

  He led the men on a fine chase, heading for the most dense part of the forest, knowing that it would be his only chance of escape. As he ran, he heard the leader call to spread out. They were gaining on him. Jack hurled himself onward, trees and bushes becoming dim blurs. One thought consumed his mind: he must escape. One of the riders drew abreast of Jack and another was at his heels. He tried to swerve away, running for a narrow gap between two trees. He felt the net descend upon him. The nearest rider had thrown a webbed rope over him, and his feet became tangled in it. He fell to the ground, still struggling forward, trying to free himself. Frantic, he worked to free his legs, pulling hard at the coarse rope. Just as he had managed to kick himself free, the armed men descended upon him. They had dismounted and were braridishing spear and sword.

  "Don't move, boy," warned the leader, "or you'll feel a spear through your leg." Jack froze on the spot. "I can see you're a smart one. Bind him up, boys. I'm taking no chances this time." Two of the armed men approached Jack, one of them aiming a violent kick at his kidneys.

  "Steady on, boys, we wouldn't want to do anything that would upset Lord Baralis." The men looked suitably cowed. "Besides, if we bring him back in good shape, we might get a bonus. Lord Baralis ain't expecting us to find the boy. I reckon it'll be extra gold all around." The leader surveyed his men. "So let's not blow it by roughing the lad up, all right?"

  Jack was doubled up with pain; the kick had been well placed. The two men bound his wrists and ankles with leather strips, pulling the bindings so tight that Jack winced as they snagged his skin.

  "Throw him over the back of the extra mare, and make sure he can't wriggle off. We've got a long ride ahead of us, and I don't want him going anywhere." Jack was slung over a large horse and bound to it with thick rope.

  "Are we going to head back to the castle, Traff, or find the girl?" asked another of the men.

  Traff, the leader, considered for a moment. "We go on and find the girl." The men mounted their horses, and with Jack as their captive, rode on into the forest heading southeast.

  Maybor had just enjoyed a glass of lobanfern red as was his habit before dressing for a big occasion. He was a little worried as to why the queen had requested an audience with him the following day, but he told himself it was probably to establish a specific day for the betrothal. Time was becoming short. He must have his daughter found in the next day or so, or all would be lost.

  The first effects of the sweet wine were beginning to make themselves felt and Maybor turned his thoughts to less worrying details. What would he wear? The queen and all the highest nobles would be in attendance at the dance, so he must look his most magnificent. His mind sorted through his wardrobe. It must be something red, he thought. But more than red, it must have gold embroidery and tassels and jewels. His wealth would be the envy of the court on this auspicious night.

  "Crandle!" he shouted to his latest servant. The meek Crandle entered the room of the great lord.

  "Yes, my lord."

  "Fetch me my robe. I would dress for this evening."

  "Which one, lord?"

  "The red with the golden embroidery and the pearls. I would look like a king on this fair eve." Crandle went off to find the robe in question. Some minutes later, he returned with the requested robe in one hand and a dead rat in the other.

  "What is this!" boomed Maybor, motioning to the rat. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't know how it got into your wardrobe, but it seems to have died before it did any harm." Maybor was not at all pleased with the idea of a rat, dead or otherwise, in his precious wardrobe.

  "You fool!" He searched his mind for a suitably threatening punishment. "If this happens again, I will have your ears torn off." His servant looked acceptably contrite, and Maybor regained some of his good humor. "Very well, Crandle, help me dress. I don't think I'll bother bathing--that sort of beautification is for dandies and priests."

  The servant helped Maybor from his robes. "Be careful, you idiot!" cried Maybor as Crandle accidentally stepped on his foot. "Or I will have your toes pulled off as well as your ears."

  Melli was once again being laced into the tight, red dress. She was not at all pleased when the sallow-faced Keddi gave the lacings one last strong pull, for it had the effect of pushing her breasts up so high she was sure if she as much as breathed deeply they would pop out.

  "Keddi, what has become of my own dress?" she demanded.

  "Mistress Greal said to throw it out, said as she didn't want you wearing no drab, cover-up dress while you were here."

  "Keddi, I will not be here past today. I fully intend on leaving this town tomorrow and I will leave it wearing my own dress. Now run along and find it for me." The girl rushed out, and some minutes later Mistress Greal entered the room.

  "Your old dress has been torn apart for rags. You've got no choice but to wear this one. If you're a good girl, I might see to buying you a new one at some point." The woman circled the indignant Melli. "I must say, though, I'd be inclined to get you another red. Shows your skin up just right. Men like nothing better than pale, creamy skin."

  "Mistress Greal, I have no wish to cater to the taste of men. You are somewhat mistaken in your belief that I will be staying here. I must tell you now, I will be leaving in the morning." Mistress Greal did not seem concerned by Melli's outburst.

  She moved close to Melli adjusting her hair and dress. "You could do with a little rouge, though, deary. Your cheeks are too pale." With that she pinched Melli's cheeks hard. "There, that'll do the job for now."

  "How dare you pinch me!" Melli attempted to slap Mistress Greal, but she was not fast enough. The woman caught Melli's arm.

  "Come, come, deary, there's no need for this. Let us adjourn for a sup, it'll calm your nerves. You're far too highly strung if you ask me."

  "I will not go and sit in that wretched tavern again." Mistress Greal showed her sharp, uneven teeth. "Come along, deary. You can't stay in your room. Keddi's got to clean it up." She guided the reluctant Melli out of the room, and practically forced her down to the tavern.

  Once again Mistress Greal insisted they sit at the center table. It was early evening and the tavern was much busier than it had been when Melli was there the day before. It seemed to Melli that as they sat down, all eyes were upon her. Mistress Greal duly noted this and said: "See, these men appreciate a pretty girl when they see one." She waved and greeted many of the men. "I don't think we'll have to buy our own drinks this evening." Melli did not know what her companion meant by that remark, until a group of several men approached their table, one of whom she recognized as the man she had been introduced to the day before.

  "Joy to you, Mistress Greal." Edrad bowed with exaggerated courtesy. "How are you and your lovely companion on this fine evening?" Melli tried hard not to breathe, for when she did so her breasts pushed out alarmingly.

  "My dear girl and I are most agreeably well, Edrad," said Mistress Greal inclining her head graciously. "But we are a little dry."

  Edrad was immediately penitent. "Oh, please forgive me, ladies. What a thoughtless creature I am!" Edrad called for drinks.

  "My girl and I don't care for the rough stuff, Edrad, we want the reserve."

  "The reserve it will be, then." Mistress Greal seemed well pleased. "Would you mind if my companions and I sat a while with you charming ladies?" Melli was alarmed to see Mistress Greal willingly agree.

  "These are my two good friends, Larkin and Lester." The two men nodded at Mistress Greal and leered at Melli. Edrad then addressed his companions. "And this is the admirable Mistres
s Greal and her lovely companion Melli of Deepwood."

  "Deepwood?" questioned the one called Larkin.

  "Yes, Deepwood. It's far south of here, isn't it, Melli?" said Edrad mischievously.

  "I've never heard of a Deepwood," persisted Larkin. "Nonsense, it's just past Highwood." Edrad winked slyly at Melli.

  Mistress Greal decided to move the conversation along. "Of course, you can tell my dear Melli isn't from these parts. Who around here has such pale coloring and perfect skin?"

  "None that I've ever seen, Mistress Greal," replied Edrad, giving Melli's bosom an admiring look.

  "Nor I," agreed Larkin. The one called Lester chose not to speak.

  A short time later the drinks arrived, and Melli was glad to have something to divert attention away from herself. She took a deep and unladylike swig of ale. Mistress Greal gave her a warning glance.

  "The reserve is strong stuff, Melli. Seeing as you're not used to ale, I would go easy." Melli found a small pleasure in deliberately ignoring the woman's words and taking another deep drink. The action may have displeased Mistress Greal, but it drew cries of pleasure from the men.

  "There's a girl!" cried Edrad. "They obviously teach women how to drink like men in Deepwood." Melli could not help but smile. The strong ale was making her feel light-headed, and she was beginning to wonder why she complained against coming to sit in such a pleasant place. Seeing Melli smile, the men smiled, and seeing the men smile, Mistress Greal smiled.

  After a while, Melli began to feel decidedly merry. She laughed at the jokes made by Edrad and Larkin at Lester's expense, and downed more of the reserve. She caught Edrad and Mistress Greal exchanging glances and saw the woman's barely perceptible nod. "You know what you need, my dear?" she said.

  "No, what do I need, Mistress Greal?" replied Melli. "You need a little fresh air. A short walk to cool your face and clear your head." The idea of a walk in the cool, early evening was most appealing to Melli, who was feeling a little flushed and warm. She nodded enthusiastically.

  "Will you accompany us, Edrad?" asked Mistress Greal casually.

  "It would be my distinct honor." He bowed, and offered her and Melli an arm. The party of three walked to the door, to the great interest of the other tavern drinkers, and left.

  The evening was refreshingly cool after the heat of the tavern. Melli stumbled slightly, finding it difficult to walk straight. The strong arm of Edrad steadied her. After they had walked a short while, Mistress Greal spoke up, "If you two will excuse me, I must pop back to the tavem for my wrap. I seem to have forgotten it. I'll only be an instant." With that she was off.

  Edrad took this opportunity to steer Melli toward the stables, and it .seemed like a good idea to her. "I'll be able to check on my horse," she said. Edrad smiled and nodded, and guided her into the darkened interior. He then led Melli toward an even darker corner. "I don't think my horse is here," commented Melli, her speech slurring slightly.

  "We'll see your horse later," said Edrad as he guided Melli against a wall. He began moving his hand up from her arm to her breast. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. Melli was feeling confused and light-headed. She reluctantly agreed to the kiss, and soon found Edrad's tongue in her mouth. The next thing she felt was his hand squeezing her breast.

  "Oh, you're such a lovely one," he murmured as he bent to kiss her breast. Melli was beginning to feel that this wasn't very nice, but her head was lazy with ale and her reactions seemed slow. She was backed up against the wall and Edrad was slavering over her breasts. She felt his warm hand reach under her skirt. Melli was beginning to feel a little panicky: kissing was one thing, but a hand under her skirt was quite another.

  Fleetingly she remembered the armed men who had tom her dress. It occurred to her fuddled brain that Edrad was no better than those men. She felt his hand move toward her thigh. She decided she would tolerate this invasion no longer. With all the strength in her body, she raised her knee and violently slammed it into Edrad's groin. Edrad immediately fell back onto the floor murmuring cries of, "Bitch!" and clutching his vitals.

  Melli had not expected her blow to be so effective. He seemed unable to retaliate in any way. Pleased with herself, but still confused by drink, she wondered what to do next. She had the distinct feeling Mistress Greal would not be too happy with her. Melli decided that since she was in the stable, she would get her horse and leave. She would even take a saddle-she had no intention of returning to the tavern, so they could keep her possessions as payment for it.

  Melli walked past the groaning Edrad and wondered why he was still doubled up and obviously in great pain. Rather merrily she hurried on to find her horse.

  After much fumbling in the dark, she located her horse. It seemed pleased to see her and whinnied softly. Melli searched, found rather a nice saddle, and placed it on her horse's back, not concerned too much with fit. She then led her horse out of the stable and, after a few tries, somehow managed to mount him, despite feeling rather dizzy.

  She rode as quietly as she could out of town. Before long, however, both her head and her stomach began to feel very unsteady, and she realized she could go on no longer.

  She guided her horse off the track and managed to find a quiet glade out of sight of the road. Dismounting from her horse, she threw up in the bushes, and fell asleep on the cold ground.

  Chapter Ten

  The great banquet hall was aglow with the light of a thousand candles. The walls were strung with garlands of sweetsmelling winter flowers, and countless silk ribbons hung from the rafters.

  Long tables were heavily laden with many foods: four whole suckling pigs, mouths stuffed with peaches; five roasted lambs; two sides of venison seasoned with rosemary and thyme; twenty silver salmon from the Farlands; and a score of lake trout from the east. There were platters of tender sheep's kidneys and plates full of steamed pheasant. There were a dozen varieties of cheeses and huge baskets filled with fresh fruits imported from the south.

  There was a great selection of drinks to choose from: for the ladies' fancy, wines and sherries, sweet ciders and aromatic punches. For the men, potent ales and smooth stouts, strong ciders and pungent meads.

  The room was full of exquisitely clothed women, wearing high-necked dresses of blue and green and gold, their hair piled high in elaborate curls, and their arms and necks bedecked in jewels which sparkled brilliantly in the candlelight. The men too wore their best, richly colored robes of scarlet and purple. They mingled with the women, bowing and giving gracious compliments, and flirting suggestively.

  Servants were adorned in their best liveries, running around the room, filling cups and plates and attending to the slightest wish of the court. If the guests had been more observant and less drunk they would have noticed many a serving boy slipping sides of salmon and wedges of cheese beneath his tunic.

  Winter's Eve festival was only the second most important festival of the year; Mid Winter was usually the most anticipated. But this year, the court at Castle Harvell had much to celebrate: the war with the Halcus was rumored to be going well and, more importantly, the king's health had improved. There was a feeling of hope and excitement in the room. The future of the Four Kingdoms looked bright and the court was eager to celebrate.

  The banquet hall was huge and filled to capacity. People had come from the four comers of the kingdoms. There were visitors from Annis and Highwall and envoys from Lanholt and Silbur. All had come to pay their respects and win favor with the queen. The men talked of the war whilst the women talked politics. All who counted were here; they were aware of their importance and basked in the glow of shared privilege.

  The wine was strong and heady, and the ladies of court, who normally drank their wine watered, found themselves giggling and merry and ready to dance. The men, noticing this change, grew eager to please, fetching delicate morsels for them to eat, kissing their hands gallantly and escorting them onto the floor.

  As the night progressed, the nature of the eveni
ng changed. Politics gave way to passion. The music of strings and flutes filled the air; its soft cadences vying with the sound of talk and laughter, enticing people to the dance. The music worked its magic in subtle ways, making the ladies flushed and excited, and tempting the men to make indiscreet suggestions and clandestine assignations.

  Later there would be singing, the beautiful Hanella of Marls was to perform songs requested by the queen, songs telling of love and passion and intrigue. Harvell's own great tenor Tarivall would later perform, beguiling the women with his glorious voice and his magnificent bearing. There was said to be five breathtaking women from Isro who would perform the exotic dance of their distant land--dancing naked except for their golden bracelets.

  It was to be the greatest and most splendid night of the year. Nothing had been spared: maids had spent months sewing dresses, cooks had spent weeks preparing foods, and servants had spent days hanging garlands. The banquet hall on Winter's Eve was a place of great excitement and captivating spectacle.

  Baralis surveyed the room with a cynical eye, noting with distaste the excesses of the evening. Great ladies were acting like tavern wenches, lords were drinking and eating like gluttons, and the lowly gentry were trying to ingratiate themselves with anyone who would listen.

  Baralis thought the whole evening was a waste of time and money. He looked at the brightly dressed women and saw vanity and frivolity. He looked at the drunken lords and saw greed and stupidity. The court of the Four Kingdoms was filled with fools!

  He would be careful to play his part, though. He would have no one know what dark thoughts nestled in his heart. He caught the eye of one of the court beauties; he bowed gallantly and the absurd creature blushed and giggled. She was far too red of face and big of bosom for Baralis to find her attractive-he preferred young girls, slim of hip and breast. However, he knew he must go along with such charade, and so made it his business to bow and smile to any lady who crossed his path.