The Baker's Boy

by J. V. Jones

  She did not have to wait for long. There was a bustle of voices and the inn door opened and a group of men came in. They were cold and wet and called loudly for service. She could tell straightaway from their fine dress who they were. One man stuck out above the rest; he had the bearing that only came with great wealth and nobility. His robes were crimson and gold, and his cloak was lined with ermine. His voice boomed out loudly as he called for food and drink, but Mistress Greal's sharp ears caught the sound of his low wheezes.

  Mistress Greal noted with approval that the party had ordered the best that the inn had to offer: roasted venison, smoked salmon, grilled pheasant, to say nothing of the barrel of lobanfern red that the innkeeper dragged from the cellar. Mistress Greal knew to the last copper the cost of the various libations the inn had for sale, and lobanfern red was by far the most expensive.

  She watched as the group became more rowdy, the drink animating their conversations and flushing their faces. Mistress Greal decided it was time to make her move. She stood up, smoothing her skirts, and sauntered over to their table.

  "I bid you gentlemen joy on this fine night." All the men turned and looked at her. "I hope you are enjoying your repast. I would let you gentlemen know there are more tasty morsels available than those on the menu." The party caught her drift and banged their cups on the table.

  "What morsels have you to offer, woman?" shouted the one she knew to be Lord Maybor. "I trust they have not been sitting as long in the pot as you have." The men broke into hearty laughter. Mistress Greal was more than a little insulted but covered it well.

  "Let me assure you, fine sir, my morsels are young and tender, plump and well spiced." The party cheered rowdily at her reply.

  "You know well how to tempt a hungry man," said the lord.

  "In my experience, sir, a hungry man needs little tempting." The men erupted into laughter once more and Mistress Greal knew she was close to reeling them in.

  "Tell me, woman, where do you keep these tender morsels?"

  "Morsels as tender as mine must be kept under lock and key, lest they be eaten before their time."

  "A man's appetite reaches its fullest only after he sees what he will be eating."

  The lord's words were accompanied by enthusiastic shouts of "Aye!" by his men.

  Mistress Greal judged it was time to bring out her girls. She nodded to the tavernboy, who promptly ran up the stairs. She used the brief interval to discreetly blow out a number of the surrounding candles. She then turned her attention back to the men, perceiving it would be in her best interest to encourage them to drink more. "May I be so bold as to propose a toast, gentlemen?" she cried.

  "It is forbidden for a lady to propose a toast," shouted one of the group.

  "Then we will not be breaking any rules by letting her propose one." The men dissolved into fits of laughter. Mistress Greal laughed along with them, the only indication that she was not truly amused a slight narrowing of her eyes.

  Seconds later her girls appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Mistress Greal's critical eye rested upon them. Keddi had done a good job. The small party noticed the girls and cheered loudly, calling them to come over and sup with them. The two girls looked toward Mistress Greal, who shook her head minutely and indicated, with a furrow of her brow, that the girls should sit at the table she had picked out earlier.

  Once the men realized the girls were not about to join them, they booed and hissed and banged their cups.

  "Bring the girls to our table, woman," ordered the lord. "Me and my girls would prefer to sit a while on our own, sir. We would, however, be pleased to accept refreshments from you." The lord grunted and indicated that a jug be tapped from the barrel and sent to the girls. Mistress Greal's small heart thrilled with excitement-a whole jug of lobanfern red!

  She retired to her table, where the girls were about to pour themselves a glass of the overpriced brew. "Don't you dare," she warned. "The tavernboy will do a switch in a minute and you two can drink from the jug he brings." Mistress Greal was not about to pass up the chance of a small profit for selling the lobanfern back to the innkeeper.

  The party of men kept whistling and calling to the girls, raising their cups in toast and cheering when either of the girls smiled their way. Before long, Lord Maybor walked over to their table, carrying another jug of wine. "I thought you ladies might have need of more refreshment."

  He sat down between the two girls, admiring their figures. "My, my, woman, these are indeed tempting morsels." He squeezed the thigh of one girl, while leering down the dress of the other. "Very tempting, indeed." Mistress Greal took the opportunity to gently knock over the jug of cheap wine.

  "Oh, dear," she cried. "Silly me, what have I done, such fine wine!" She made a show of mopping the spilt wine with her handkerchief. The lord called out for another jug to be brought. Mistress Greal smiled broadly; this night was already proving to be most profitable.

  More wine came and the remaining men in the party came over, drawing their chairs around the table. The men were drinking heavily. Mistress Greal shot her girls a warning glance, in case they did likewise. The lord surveyed the drinking party with a benign eye and then whispered a word in Mistress Greal's ear. The two discreetly left the table.

  "So, woman, tell me your price."

  "Well, sir, for both girls . . . " Mistress Greal paused as she decided her price. She took a deep breath and said: "Five golds." The lord did not hesitate.

  "Done!" He looked toward his companions. "My men have ridden hard for five days; it is a cheap price for such alluring distractions."

  Mistress Greal sucked in her breath. Cheap! She cursed herself; she could have charged him more! The lord began to step back to the table. "Tell me, sir," she said, anxious to hold him longer while she thought of a plausible way to up her price, "what business does such a fine lord as yourself have in Duvitt?" The lord hesitated for a second, and then motioned her to sit down at a remote corner table. He settled himself in place close beside her, and when he spoke she could smell the wine on his breath.

  "You seem to be a woman who would know a lot of people in this town." Mistress Greal nodded. "You would notice if anyone new came to town?"

  "I would indeed, sir." She was ready to agree with anything the lord said.

  "I am interested in finding a girl. Rumors have reached my ears that she may have passed through this place."

  "Who might this girl be?"

  "That is no concern of yours." The lord's voice was sharp. "She must be found."

  "Give me a description of the girl." Mistress Greal's words were laden with understanding. She assumed from the lord's harsh tone that the mysterious girl had either stolen something from him or given him a bad dose of the ghones.

  "She is approaching her eighteenth summer. She is tall for a girl, and she has long dark hair and deep blue eyes."

  "Does she bear any marks-from birthing or the pox?" Mistress Greal's heart began to beat faster. The description of the girl sounded just like the one she had taken in and fed a few weeks back-the ungrateful slut, Melli.

  "She has no marks. Her skin is smooth and fair."

  "Is there a reward for information about the girl?" She was now positive the girl the lord sought was Melli of Deepwood.

  "What do you know of her?" demanded the lord. Mistress Greal thought he sounded like a man most eager to find and punish.

  "There was a girl fitting her description in town a couple of weeks back. I'm sorry to say I took the wretched girl in. I spent good money on her, thought she'd be an asset to my business. By Borc, was I wrong! She was a bad one. She turned on me, stole my dresses, stole a horse, and assaulted a good friend of mine. Of course we managed to catch up with her. I personally saw to it that the little trollop was sentenced to a good flogging."

  She had barely finished speaking when the lord viciously grabbed her wrist. "What was the girl's name?" His voice was charged with anger; Mistress Greal became afraid.

  "Melli. The g
irl said she was called Melli." The lord slammed her wrist against the table with such force that the woman could hear her own bones cracking. Mistress Greal desperately looked around for help. The innkeeper and tavern boy refused to meet her eye.

  "What became of the girl?" The lord's voice was charged with fury.

  "I don't know, sir." Tears of pain welled in her eyes. The lord slammed her wrist down again and pain coursed through her arm. She could see where one of the broken bones had pierced her skin. "In the middle of her flogging a band of armed men came and took her away." Mistress Greal was almost hysterical. "I've heard no more of her, I swear."

  "Which direction did the men head in?" The lord ground her broken wrist into the table.

  "They rode toward the forest, heading west." Mistress Greal looked on in horror as the lord took the huge jeweled ring from his finger. He pressed it against her mouth. She felt the cool kiss of the jewel. With one quick motion he punched the ring forward with such force that her front teeth were knocked out. She screamed hysterically and blood rushed down her chin and onto her breasts. The lord turned and walked out, beckoning his men to follow.

  Mistress Greal slumped over the table, sobbing violently, her blood flowing onto the wood. Not a single person in the tavern came forward to help her.

  Jack heard someone approaching and slipped back into the shadows, holding his breath as the man passed. He could tell by the shadow cast that the man was Crope. He waited for several minutes, body pressed close against the damp stone, and then moved on. The past few days he had spent waiting, lying low in the cold, dark maze beneath the castle. He headed toward the tunnel. Tonight he was going to find out where Melli was being held.

  Jack tucked his sword under his belt and made his way to the oblong room that marked the entrance to the tunnel. He peered down its length and in the distance he saw a faint light. He watched it grow dimmer. Crope, it seemed, was also heading to the haven. Jack entered the passageway and followed the light.

  Some time later he emerged from the tunnel. There was no sign of Crope and he cautiously moved on. The ways were dark and twisting and he attempted to retrace his steps back toward the cell he'd first been held in. Each step he took thundered loudly in his ears and he feared detection at every turn of his path.

  Eventually he came across a door that was bolted on the outside. He listened a moment for any sound within. Hearing nothing, he drew back the bolt and entered the room.

  Once inside, he lit his candle and looked around. It was a comfortably furnished room, containing a bed, a bath, and an assortment of chairs and tables. Lying on the bed were various clothes: a woman's nightgown and dresses. On one of the tables was a bowl of rosewater. A pile of dirty looking rags in the corner caught Jack's eye and he went over to look at them more closely. He rummaged through them. His suspicions were confirmed when he pulled a soiled and ragged red dress from the pile-Melli's dress. Melli had been kept in this very room. Where was she now? he wondered. He prayed that she had not been murdered.

  Jack investigated the room further, looking for any clues as to what had become of her. Finding nothing else he decided to move on. As he opened the door he was astonished to see Crope emerging from the tunnel wall, the very wall that he had walked past only minutes earlier. He quickly brought the door back, leaving only a tiny gap through which to look. As he watched, Crope appeared to feel for something in the stone and seconds later the wall drew back into place. The huge servant then made his way back down toward the tunnel.

  Jack stepped from the room and reset the bolt in its place. He walked over to where Crope had stood and mimicked what he had seen the servant do. He placed his palms flat against the stone and moved them against its cold surface. Nothing. Jack became nervous: the longer he stood here, the more chance he had of being discovered. In his frustration he beat the wall with his fist-and felt a tiny something give way inside the stone. The wall to his side began to rumble back and an entrance appeared. He was tempted to dash right in, but instead he carefully felt the area of stone that he had pounded. He found what he was looking for: barely there, nothing more than a minute bump in the stone ... the opening mechanism. Jack stepped through the gap.

  He emerged into a large room. The first thing he needed to do was to close the wall so he could look around undisturbed. Jack took a guess as to what side the closing mechanism would be on and was rewarded when he felt the tiny jutting of stone. He pressed on it and the wall swung back into place.

  Jack surveyed the room. It was well lit; several candles were still burning. There were a few chairs and a large table with various items resting upon it. He saw there was a door leading from the back of the room. He rushed over and put his ear to the wood. He could hear nothing. He saw a lock and guessed it would not open. He pushed it anyway, it did not give way. He thought he heard a movement on the other side. "Melli," he called softly.

  "Who's out there?" came the faint reply. Jack was thrilled as he recognized her voice.

  "Melli, it's me, Jack."

  "Jack, is it really you?" Her voice was louder now. "Yes, I've come to get you out of here. Do you know if the key is kept in the room?"

  "No, I don't think so. Crope and Baralis keep their keys with them all the time."

  Jack tested the door. It was solid and the lock appeared strong. "Stand back, Melli." He kicked the door as hard as he could, horrified by the large noise he made. The door did not give way. He tried again and again, the door eventually began to weaken. One final kick resulted in the splintering of wood and the lock gave way.

  Melli rushed forth and flung her arms around Jack. "You did it! You did it." After a moment she appeared to regain her composure and drew away from him. "I thought you would be leagues away from here by now."

  "I couldn't leave knowing you were still locked up." Jack couldn't meet Melli's eyes. He felt foolish and brushed back his hair nervously. He was suddenly very aware of his appearance. What must he look like to her? He was dirty, his hair unkempt, his clothes stained with blood. Heroes in stories somehow managed to rescue maidens while looking like court dandies. Next time he went adventuring he'd remember to bring a comb.

  Melli's scrutiny was making him uncomfortable. "We must make haste," he said, glad of the opportunity to turn away. "Crope could return at any moment." He moved quickly across the room and caused the wall to open. "Let's go." Melli grabbed a small fruit knife from the table and then followed him from the room.

  Jack decided it was better not to risk heading toward the way out. It would be well guarded and they would have to walk past the guardroom. He led Melli toward the tunnel and Castle Harvell. Once they reached the tunnel, he was relieved to see there was no sign of light ahead. "Come on, let's hurry," he said, catching Melli's hand in his.

  Lord Maybor raised his hand and then reined his horse to a stop. The men behind him slowed down and came to a halt. He turned to face his company, "We will make camp here for the night." The tone of his voice discouraged any argument and the men set about making camp.

  Maybor dismounted his horse and walked off into the woods. Sometime later he heard the approach of another; he was about to tell whoever it was to leave him be when he heard the sound of his son's voice.

  "Father." Kedrac drew near. "What happened at the inn? Why are we heading back to Harvell?" Maybor did not turn to look at his son; he stared into the blackness ahead.

  "Kedrac, I will not speak of what passed between that woman and me. I will tell you that I have good reason to believe Melliandra was abducted by Baralis' men and, if she is still alive, is most probably being held somewhere not far from the castle."

  "Father, what did the woman say to you? If it concerns my sister I demand to know."

  "Leave me be, Kedrac!" Such was the force in Maybor's voice that his son withdrew instantly.

  Maybor was surrounded by darkness. A cold wind blew through the trees and the sky was without a moon. He stood and thought of his daughter, how he had loved her. It was true he had f
orced the betrothal upon her, but he had never sought to harm her. And now, to hear from that foul woman's mouth that his daughter had been abused and flogged. He shook his head grimly and headed back to the camp. A heavy rain began to fall and he was glad of its discomfort.

  "Where does this tunnel lead to?" hissed Melli. She was feeling a little afraid. She hated being in the dark.

  "It leads toward the castle." Jack tugged on her arm, urging her forward. "Come on, hurry. We don't want to be caught in here. Look, in the distance-that light marks the end of the tunnel. Not much further now."

  She waited for Jack to take her hand again, but he didn't. She hid her disappointment by breaking into a run.

  It felt good to Melli to stretch her legs properly after days of being confined in a small space. Soon the tunnel gave way to a long rectangular room. Jack took her down one of the many passages that led from it. Melli was about to speak, but he stopped her, raising his finger to his lips. She would just have to trust that he knew where he was going.

  The route they traveled seemed a maze of turnings and staircases. Jack lit a candle and Melli was able to see a little of what she passed. It was not a pleasant sight: cold, wet stone with pale mosses sprouting forth from the cracks. Melli kept her distance from the strange growths; she shuddered at the idea of one of them brushing against her.

  Eventually they reached a flight of stairs with a wooden door at the top and Jack bid her wait while he checked if the way ahead was clear. Moments later, to Melli's great relief, his head popped around the door and he beckoned her to join him. As she walked through the door and into the huge, lowceilinged room, the smell of beer and hops assailed her nostrils. She was in the beer cellar.

  Melli knew the beer cellar well. It had been a place that she had played in as a child, running and hiding behind the huge brewing vats, rolling the barrels of ale. If caught, she and her friends would taunt the master brewer and the cellarer-the men would never dare take action against the children of nobles and would content themselves with chasing them from the cellar. Melli remembered that being chased was the best thing of all: frightening and exhilarating at the same time there was the peril of being caught, but also the reassuring knowledge that they were in no real danger. Melli sighed deeply; she wished she had a similar reassurance now.