“Well, where'd he go?”
“He said he'd be right outside if we needed him,” said Minuet as she looked out across the tables under the low rows of timbers in the ceiling. “Is this all they're bringing out for us to eat?”
“Probably. There do be pieces of ham in it. It's just the taverner and his wife. Both cooks fled the plague, this morning.”
“I wondered why she was the one waiting on us,” said Minuet as she pressed a wad of collards onto her bread. “In here, you'd hardly think there was a plague. Everybody's just eating peacefully.”
“They do be, but I wouldn't be surprised if the taverner's wife is more talkative when things are normal. She hardly spoke. I'd allow that she's a little afraid of every soul who walks in here. It's a wonder they haven't shooed us out and flown the coop.”
“No doubt...”
Across the room, the front door slammed shut. “There's the witch!” shouted the woman who stepped inside, silencing everyone at the tables.
Minuet dropped her bread onto her plate and turned about on her chair in alarm.
“Martha please!” said the man coming in on her heels. “You've had too much to drink. Please think! She's been wonderful to the kids...”
“You doubt me, Sammy boy?” she cried, wheeling
'round and planting her feet. “I saw what I saw...”
“We all saw the pardoner and the flax haired wench...” he said as he grabbed her wrist.
Martha immediately yanked out of his grasp. “Then you're blind as well as thick!” she shouted, nearly stumbling as she forced her way between the tables. “Had ye seen past your nose, you'd 'ave seen it was that wizard in league with the very Elf devils who caused the plague in the first place. It was none other than Wizard Razzmorten himself and his witch daughter, Ugleeuh!” She staggered back a step with a glance about at her audience of wide-eyed diners. “No wonder he came to town as a pardoner. He knew they'd be run out if people recognized him.” Suddenly she took a tramp toward Minuet. “In fact, maybe it's time something was done about that entire family. Everyone knows they practice the dark arts.”
Minuet shot to her feet. “Shame on you!” she shouted. “If it weren't for my father, the queen herself would be dead this minute! Scores of people have caught the plague and are alive right now because of him...!”
“Yea!” she barked, peppering Minuet's face with flecks of spit. “Like all the pointy eared foreigners who caused it!”
“Foreigners! How can you say such a thing! They were here a thousand years ago, before there ever was a Niarg...”
“A threat to us the whole time , Missy!” cried Martha, smiling with her hateful piggy eyes as an angry drone stirred through the diners.
“A threat?” cried Minuet, turning to the crowd. “How many of you are alive today because you were healed by the Elves? How many of you would have died in childbirth had it not been for them? How is it wrong to keep them alive alongside us?”
Bethan could see that the grumbling diners were not making kind replies. She saw her moment at once and quietly slipped out to summon Sergeant Bernard.
“And as for you, Martha Benton,” said Minuet, “how come you call me a witch when only yesterday you said I was like unto an angel?”
“I didn't know the truth!” she shouted for all to hear. “You held me under an enchantment and used your dark magicks on my dear children. For all we know, you've left us changlings under your spell!”
“That's a lie, Martha! I used no magicks! Your children are still your children. And they're going to live a long life, too, thanks to my father's drops which I've been giving them every four hours!”
“Yea? And we'd never have let you get away with that, had we only known!”
Minuet was stunned, standing there alone. “I've no time for this,” she stammered, turning to leave as diners began pushing back their chairs throughout the room. “We've got drops to give and bedpans to haul. Come on, Bethan...”
“So where's your hired woman, witch?” shouted Martha, blocking Minuet's escape as the entire dining room crowded around. “Could it be that we're onto the truth and she didn't want to hang alongside you for your sorceries?”
“If I were a witch,” cried Minuet, standing her ground before the huge woman, “why have I not struck you down with a curse by now?”
Martha dropped her jaw at this and grabbed herself by the throat to sit down on the floor with a heavy plump and topple onto her side like a sack of corn. The crowd stepped back with wide-eyed gasps.
“Good show Martha!” cried Minuet. “But the only thing wrong with you is your vicious demeanor!”
“You killed my wife!” shouted Sam, falling to his knees beside her as shouts of “Rope! Rope!” erupted from the crowd.
“She's no more dead than I am!” cried Minuet.
“How do we know you're alive?” shouted Sam.
“Yea!” hollered someone. “Hang her and burn her!”
“Rope! Rope! Rope!” chanted the crowd, as two huge men grabbed her and threw her against the wall to pummel her face and break her wrist, causing her to black out and fall to the floor, where they began kicking her at once.
“Stop!” bellowed Sergeant Bernard as he flung open the door, sword drawn.
Bethan came in right on his heels, elbowing her way through the crowd in a fury. “My baby girl!” she shrieked as she grabbed one of the kicking men by the hair on the back of his head, yanking him off balance onto the floor.
“Why you old sow!” cried the other man as he wheeled and kicked Bethan in the thigh, knocking her onto the floor.
“My baby!” she cried as she flew to her feet to rip open his belly with her dirk.
The man on the floor rose to his knees, drawing his sword in time for Bernard to take off his head with a whistling swing of his saber. By now the room had fallen to a hush as Minuet and Bethan's other four bodyguards entered with swords drawn, followed by a dozen other royal guardsmen.
Bethan knelt over Minuet, sobbing and smoothing her hair from her face.
“Seize that man trying to hide the rope!” shouted Bernard.
There was a brief scuffle as murmurs began stirring.
“Silence!” roared Bernard, punctuating the quiet which followed with the sound of his heels on the boards of the floor as he paced. “I am placing under arrest every one of you on this side of the room, from the man with the rope, clean to the wall, except for Mistress Dewin and Bethan...”
“Why not the witch?” said Sam as he knelt by Martha. “If she's not killed my wife, she at least has a spell on her.”
Bernard motioned to one of the guardsmen with a nod and whispered something in his ear. “We will hold you in the castle jail until you appear before the King's Bench,” he said, continuing his speech as the guardsman slipped outside.
“What about the witch?” cried Sam as the guardsman returned with a hunting crop and handed it to Bernard.
Bernard made no reply as he took the crop and walked calmly over to Martha, smacking her rump with a furious whistling crack, causing her to jerk away with a yodeling shriek, tumbling up onto her knees wide eyed as she dearly held her behind.
“I'm right glad to see that you'll be awake for your hearing, dear,” he said as he handed the hunting crop back to the guardsman.
***
Minuet awoke in the shadows of early evening to the calls of a robin and the cries of nighthawks swooping after insects outside the window of her room. “Leigheas!” she said. “Is this Oilean Gairdin? It's certainly not Peach Knob.” She gave a small moan at her first attempt to adjust her position.
“No my dear,” he said, stepping quietly to her bedside at once. “This is Fates' Hospital...”
“Then this is one of the private rooms,” she said as she began discovering that she was quite thoroughly bandaged. “But why are you here? I thought...”
“Your father came to Oilean Gairdin and got me, otherwise...”
“What happened to me? I knew
about my arm, but I'm bandaged all over.”
“The barbarians in the Yellow Rose got you down and broke six of your ribs after they broke your arm,” he said as he pulled back her sheets and carefully checked over his work. “You must have passed out at once. I understand it was two of them that did most of this.”
Bethan was there at once, smoothing her hair as Razzmorten came to her bedside and carefully squeezed her hand.
“I've brought a good quantity of slainte ollmhor,” said Leigheas. “It should control your pain, but you'll be right stove up for some time. They very nearly killed you.”
“This is my fault,” said Razzmorten. “I'm so very sorry...”
“Father! How could you possibly be at fault?”
“It was I who told you not to use your powers to protect yourself...”
“But that only made sense.”
“Oh indeed, but we almost lost you. You are one brave young lady.”
“Not really,” she said. “It's easy to be brave when you're unconscious.”
Razzmorten kissed her forehead and turned to Leigheas. “How long can you stay?”
“I'll stay until tomorrow morning, but I do indeed want that armed escort out of here. This is no place for an Elf. She's no longer in any danger.”
“Very well. I'll see that you have it. How soon do you think she could testify?”
“Testify?” said Minuet.
“As soon as she feels like walking the distance,” said Leigheas.
“Before the King's Bench?” said Minuet. “Against the pair who did this to me?”
“Not now, honey,” said Bethan. “Sergeant Bernard took the head off one of them...”
“And Bethan got the other one,” said Razzmorten.
“Bethan!” said Minuet.
“Pinked his dirty old belly with that knife I've been a carrying. They just got word to us he'd died on the jailhouse floor. And I'm pleased! That curse nearly took my little girl,” she said with a whoop as she broke into sobs. She daubed at her eyes. “Now, don't you worry. When you testify, I'll be a-testifying right alongside ye.”
“But why? If they're dead, why would we do that?”
“Well, the others,” said Razzmorten. “They were going to hang you and burn your body.”
“You mean Martha? Martha and Sam Benton?”
“Well, they weren't the only ones. Somebody else already had a rope by the time the guards got in there...”
“But the children!” said Minuet. “If I testify, Martha and Sam will hang, won't they?”
“They have to stop all the lynchings,” said Razzmorten. “Do you realize how many innocent people have already been killed? And Martha and Sam would have you dead by this very hour if Bernard and Bethan hadn't got there when they did.”
“But poor little Polly and Sarah! They're just now getting better. What will they do for parents? That was awful of Martha, but I forgive her.”
“We have to testify, honey,” said Bethan. “I know it's hard, and you've got a big heart, but think of all the innocent people we'll be saving.”
“I think we need to allow this young lady her rest,” said Leigheas.
“I reckon the other thing King Henry wants her to do can wait,” thought Razzmorten as he picked up his hat from the pile of linen by the bed.
And in short order, everyone had murmured parting words and were gone. Minuet gave a great sigh, listening to the whisper calls of the robins as she studied the ceiling in the failing light, trying to think of the innocent people she'd be saving.
Chapter 12
“How was your fried barley grits, sir?” said Bethan as she watched Razzmorten put away his knife and scoot back from their table in the common room of the Yellow Rose Inn.
“Just right for my lank spot,” he said, “but nothing like yours. You brown up yours just right.”
“You're easy to work for, sir,” she said as she wiped her mouth. “Say! Here come Sergeant Bernard and Captain Pryce. Now what's the matter with them?”
“Razzmorten?” said Bernard as he came to the table, struggling to get control of a face full of glee.
“Now what the blazes is going on with him?” said Razzmorten, turning about in his chair to stare across the room at Pryce. “Why's he staying clear over there?”
“Because we're ever so convinced that he stinks too much to be polite...” wheezed Bernard as he broke into a roar of laughter.
“Now what's this?” said Razzmorten, not knowing quite what to grin for.
Bernard steadied himself against a chair as he fought for composure. “The old dame...” Once again he was laughing. “The old dame upstairs got him with a bucket of slop on the way in.”
Razzmorten waved at Pryce, who looked up with a sheepish nod from picking and whisking at his uniform and came over to the table.
“You don't look so bad,” said Razzmorten. “Well... You do have some carrot peelings in your hair. And actually you do stink to high Heaven, but you know it will wash out. So. What can we do for you gentlemen? Actually, do you suppose we could talk outside? I think the people at the nearby tables would really appreciate it. Let me pay for this and we'll be right out.”
Razzmorten and Bethan stepped out under the sign of the Yellow Rose to find Pryce and Bernard watching an old sow and three young shoats champing down rotten melons and cabbage heads from a splatter in the street. “Is that where she got you?” he said with a nod at the hogs.
“I'm afraid so, sir,” said Pryce.
“Look at that rat!” said Bethan. “I declare, dashing out amongst the hogs in broad daylight.”
“So what were you wanting to see me about?” said Razzmorten. “Is this more bad news?”
“Well I hope not,” said Pryce. “Now, before we left for the first shipload of Elven hyssop, didn't I hear you mention something about more of it growing a good way further down the coast?”
“A good long way further, clean down to Arfordir yn Gwahardd, the Forbidden Coast, separating the Black Desert from Mor Dannedd, the Sea of Teeth. Why? Have you cut all of the oregano that you can find?”
“We might possibly have another shipload, but it will take some time, a-scouring the hillsides,” said Pryce, still picking wee peelings out of his hair, “maybe twice as long.”
“Well then, that's not good news. We've been sitting idle a day or two between each shipload already, and longer will simply mean lives. And a trip down to the Forbidden Coast like as not will mean rough seas. The very moment you set sail for your last load, you need to send at least three ships, if not four, on their way down to the Forbidden Coast to even resume the rate of oil production which we've had. Go see the king this minute. We've not been producing oil fast enough as it is. We're going to lose lives over this. Bells of the very Pit! Ask him for eight ships. We'll build more stills.”
“We're on our way,” said Pryce with a nod as he and Bernard set off down the street, scattering the hogs. He stopped short and turned about. “Say! How hard is that Forbidden Coast hyssop to find once we get there?”
“It's all up and down the hills facing the sea.”
Captain Pryce gave a smart salute and turned on his heel.
“Well,” said Razzmorten to Bethan as the old sow and the shoats returned to the last scraps of slop, “shall we look in on Minuet?”
They found her dressed and wearing her yellow nurse's sash, pacing about her room. “There you are,” she said at the sight of them. “My beating has left me a bit timid, I'm afraid, or I'd be administering drops and hauling bedpans this minute. I just feel safer somehow, waiting for you Bethan.”
Bethan was wide eyed at once. “Land o' Niarg, honey! Have you had too much Elven ginseng? You still have your arm bound to a splint.”
“Well I have had some, but there's work to be done, and there's more of it if I run down.”
“I don't know about work,” said Razzmorten as he removed his hat and motioned for her to have a seat on her bed.
“But Father, a
ll I hear when I lie here in bed is the moans of the sick in the common room. The plague can't be going away on its own. They need us.”
“Perhaps,” he said as he sat down beside her. He paused to smooth a dent out of the crown of his hat as a dove called outside the window. “King Henry feels that it might be dangerous for you and Bethan to be working in the hospital, just now...”
“King Henry?”
“He's given it some thought and we both think it best that you go back home for a good long rest after you and Bethan testify, before you even think about any more working at Fate's...”
“My word, Father! What would the king be doing, worrying about my welfare?”
“I don't mean to be rude, Bethan, but would you mind letting me have a word or two alone with Minuet?”
“Oh not at all,” she said, stumping out at once.
“What's happened?” said Minuet. “Why all the drama?”
Razzmorten studied the backs of his hands, listening to the doves outside. He drew a breath as he took up her hand and turned to face her. “King Henry wants you to marry Prince Hebraun.”
Minuet's jaw dropped in wide-eyed shock. “King Henry wants me...?”
Razzmorten nodded.
“You've never been one to tease...”
“No, I don't tease people.”
“King Henry told you that he wants me...me to marry Prince Hebraun?”
Razzmorten nodded.
“Well that is a shock! And you really haven't made that up?”
“Fiddlesticks. That's your sister's game.”
“Oh I am sorry, Father! I do know better, but we're not royalty. We're not even gentry. The only important sort of lineage we have is Elven. We might be marginally well off, maybe, but...”
“None of that has any bearing on anything, dear. Henry wants you to marry Hebraun because he thinks our magic would be good for the Crown. He also thinks your marriage into his house would help the frightened citizenry to see that our cure is not black magic nor any sort of magic at all, and has been healing people right along. Besides, he's grateful that the queen's well after her bout with the plague and he's been looking for a way to reward me.”
Heart of the Staff - Complete Series Page 13