Golias, I believe, had a pretty good idea of what was driving my wheels. Once when I caught him smiling at me, I realized that I had been staring into vacancy and silently moving my lips. I smiled back uneasily.
“How far is it to the next town? I’m getting thirsty.”
“I think you are,” he commented.
The important physical result of Jones’ impetuosity was that we were an hour or so behind schedule. In consequence we didn’t reach Thebes, the city where we had expected to spend the night, but halted a few miles short of it at a cross roads village named Upton.
The inn, as they insisted on calling it, was a clean jerkwater hostelry, boasting good refreshments. I had been worried as to whether such a small town would have a bar, but my fears were groundless.
“One thing I must say for the Commonwealth,” I remarked after licking the suds off my lips, “is that I haven’t run across any damned prohibition.”
“It isn’t allowed,” Golias assured me, “except in Tantalus’ precinct. There the measure is punitive, and in my opinion justified. He had a rotten sense of humor.”
“In the worst possible taste,” Lucius agreed.
“As to the rest of the country,” Golias continued, after pausing to drink and sigh contentedly, “there was a famous test case made some years ago when one of the Ynglings, Fjolne, I think it was, got tight and fell into a vat of mead one night when nobody was around to pull him out. Because of his royal status, his death caused quite a stir, and certain wingless harpies managed to take enough advantage of the situation to have a trial: Grundy vs. Dionysus, Gambrinus, and Barleycorn. The demand was for a sentence of banishment.”
We joined him as he paused to gulp his ale. “I’ve forgotten who the Drys’ attorney was, though it might have been Heep, but in any case Panurge was defense counsel. Old Toby Belch was the presiding magistrate, and — notwithstanding the fact that Tom Norman was there — Seithenyn ap Seithin was foreman of the jury. Incidentally there were so many challenges on both sides that they had quite a time impaneling a jury for him to be foreman of. When the dust finally settled, it could be seen that Panurge hadn’t done too badly. Sitting in judgment at the behest of their fellow citizens were Friars John and Tuck, Sut Lovingood, Colas Brugnon, Elinor Rummin, Eumolpus, Rex Cole, Clem Hawley — oh, I see.”
Jones had not been giving his usual courteous attention. Now I, too, felt free to turn and find out what he was staring at. Without surprise I found it was a woman.
She was alighting from the coach I had heard draw up a moment or two before. The young squirt who was helping her down did so as if he was handling a thin-skinned egg. When he had got her safely to earth, he attended to collecting their baggage, skipping back to her every now and then to make sure she was still well and happy. He looked so much like a combination of a frisking puppy and a cow with a calf that I watched with interest as she removed her gloves in order to touch up her hair-do. Sure enough there was no wedding ring, and I grinned to myself. Whatever the experience of the woman, the young rooster she was with was out with his first hen.
Meanwhile I hadn’t had a full view of her features. She had been standing half faced away from me while she waited for her escort. Now, however, he had turned their luggage over to a bellhop, and he was free to steer her inside. She was even younger than the boy, with a beauty in which vivacity and sensuousness struggled for halves. Her voluminous clothes made it difficult to be sure, but the signs indicated that there was a dainty figure to match the facial charm.
A moment later the pair entered with Will Boniface, our landlord, in unctuous attendance. “I must ask your ladyship and your honor to wait just a minute,” he was saying. “Our best apartment — and I wouldn’t think of offering you anything but our best, you may be sure — has just been vacated. It will take a few minutes — no more than that, you may be sure — to freshen it up. Can I show you to a private parlor while you wait?”
“Yes, please,” the boy said. “Doesn’t that suit you, Manon?”
While Boniface had been giving his sales talk, the girl had been casing the room. I don’t know whether she observed the furnishings, but she assayed all the men. My pulse acknowledged it when it was my turn to meet her sultry appraisal. Jones’ turn was next. She took a little longer with him, and I noticed that when she was through with the rest, her eyes came back for a second visit.
It was about this time that her escort had agreed to accept the advantages of a private waiting room. He offered her his arm, but she refused it.
“We don’t need a private room. We can wait right here.”
The boy didn’t like that. “It will be much pleasanter in a private parlor.”
“But it was so hot and dusty in that nasty old coach,” she said. “I’ll simply perish if I don’t have a glass of wine.”
“We’ll have it served there,” the youngster declared. “Landlord, a bottle of your best Chablis — and right away.”
He tried to tug at her, but she freed herself. “Manon’s tired and can’t go a step farther. Can’t you understand?”
There was only a trace of petulance in her voice, but it had him crawling. “Oh, dearest, I didn’t think. Landlord, the lady’s tired and must have a table right here right away.”
Thinking back, it seemed to me that she had entered briskly enough, but she was almost tottering when she accepted the boy’s help across the room. She did not, however, like the first table to which they were shown, indicating a preference for one nearer ours. There she let the youngster enthrone her in the chair that faced us. After fussing around to assure himself that she wasn’t going to die on the spot, he sat down in the opposite seat.
In her exhaustion, as it happened, she had so slumped in her chair that her skirts were not completely arranged. Only one ankle and a short stretch above it were showing, but cheese cake is a state of mind. Hearing Jones breathe heavily, I saw that his gaze was fixed on the brief but pleasant view afforded him. Golias and I exchanged glances and shrugged. This could end in unpleasantness, although on the whole I didn’t believe anything would happen. It was a cinch that Manon’s companion would stick to her like a postage stamp, and Lucius was at once too good natured and too good mannered to try to cut in on them.
Or I thought he was. He kept giving her the eye — and got it back past her unconscious escort’s shoulder. I was relieved when the wine revived her sufficiently to allow her to make it up to the bedroom.
The fact that she was a tart made her no less pleasing to the eye. I joined every man there in watching her as she left and therefore saw her hand open as she passed close to our table. The white thing which fell from her fingers was only in sight for an instant when Jones snatched it out of the air. The poor monkey, walking on the other side of the girl, remained oblivious; and he helped to hide the byplay from everybody else in the room except Golias and myself.
Still it was a bootless triumph, and I couldn’t see why Lucius — except that he was young — got such a kick out of it. All through supper he was bursting with good humor, laughing at almost any remark. With the food we had switched to wine, and he began emptying his glass with great regularity. Not long after the meal was over, he was mildly spiflicated and suggested a round of songs.
“It’s too early for that in a place like this,” Golias said. “Maybe after the next bottle, if the crowd thins out.”
“Well, if I can’t sing,” Jones announced, “I’ll give you a toast.”
Lifting his glass with a flourish, he rose. I steeled myself for some noble, sentimental, or bawdy aphorism, but instead of delivering he abruptly sat down.
“Ah,” he said with satisfaction.
Turning to see what he noted, I observed Manon’s escort hustling into the room. “Where’s the landlord?” he cried. “Oh, there you are. Landlord, is there a perfumer’s shop in town?”
“No, your honor.” Boniface succeeded in looking miserable as he made this admission. “I’m very sorry, you may be sure, but y
ou won’t find one nearer than Thebes. That’s four miles away, you know.”
“The devil!” The boy frowned desperately. “Madam left her perfume in that confounded stage coach,” he explained.
“And naturally she is heartbroken,” the landlord sympathized. “I can find a man to send for some if you like.”
The youngster hesitated. “No, she said she wanted me to pick it out myself.” Pathetically, he looked proud for a moment. “She doesn’t trust anybody’s judgment but mine in such matters, you see. Can you get me a horse?”
“It’ll be waiting by the time your honor gets his boots on, you may be sure.”
Golias and I looked at each other again as the boy raced upstairs. Jones said nothing, and the only sign of impatience he gave was to drum on the table with fingers of one hand. He kept this up until the sounds of the galloping horse began to grow faint. Then he drained his cup and pushed back his chair.
“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ll do the young lady the courtesy of returning her handkerchief.”
We merely lifted a hand each in reserved benediction. He might be walking into a mess, but not so many will keep away from poison if it’s sweet enough. And if I had had the inside track instead of him, I might not have paused for even that moral reflection.
“We’d better keep an ear waiting for that horse to come back,” Golias said, when he was out of hearing.
“I don’t know,” I said. “A bull that comes when some other moose’s cow calls had better handle that part of it, too, don’t you think?”
“I do,” he concurred, “but I’d hate to be thrown out of here in the middle of the night because of the ruckus that’ll be started if that lad finds somebody else’s mast stepped in his flagship. This is the only inn in town.”
His reasoning impressed me. “You’re right we should stand guard,” I conceded. “Oh — oh! There’s a horse now.”
“With wheels behind it.” I had started to rise, but Golias pulled me down. “We won’t have to be on the alert for a while yet.”
The vehicle halted at the door, to judge from the sounds, and after an interval Boniface ushered in two more travelers. These were both women. The first was richly if simply dressed. Albeit gayer, the apparel of the other was not so stylish.
As they came in, the landlord was playing a record we had already heard once that evening. “My best apartment has just been vacated; but I’m having it cleaned, and it’ll be ready for you in a few minutes, you may be sure.”
“Oh, you needn’t trouble.” The first woman’s voice was low but clear. “Any room you have will do for us.”
“I should think he would trouble, too,” her companion said loudly. “He shouldn’t even consider not giving your ladyship the best in the house.”
“I’m not considering it, you may be sure,” Boniface said. He turned from the maid to appeal to her mistress. “Couldn’t it be possible for you to wait just a few minutes, my lady? Surely you’re in need of refreshment, traveling at this time of night.”
“Surely you’re right,” she agreed. Before he could follow up his gambit by offering to rent her a private parlor to wait in, however, she stepped to the nearest vacant table and sat down. “Two glasses of claret, please.”
“Didn’t you hear my lady?” the maid snapped. “A glass of claret and a glass of brandy — and hurry up with them!”
In spite of her officiousness she had already taken the time to turn her sharp features to every corner. Her mistress had not bothered to look about her, but luckily she was so placed that we could observe her from time to time without being obvious. It was a pleasure of a different sort from staring at Manon. A man not infatuated with the latter could only look at her in one way, but he washed his eyes when he glanced at the cool loveliness now in the room with us. Although her features were more mature, and although general coloring was the sole actual point of resemblance, she reminded me of Rosalette. I think it was because she had the same quality of imparting without ostentation the feeling that her character was of a piece with her beauty.
All too soon for my satisfaction, “the best apartment in the house” was ready. The lady went out, leaving a darker room.
“You know so many people in the Commonwealth,” I said, when we had turned back to our wine. “Any idea who she is?”
“No,” Golias said. He had a faraway look in his eyes and didn’t have much to say for a while.
During the middle of the week in a tank town like Upton, it wasn’t surprising to find that the local drinkers retired early. One by one our fellow guests did likewise, until we eventually had the tap room to ourselves.
“Now,” Golias declared, “it is time to sing.”
He sang a couple of times, and I came back with one of my parlor tricks, a one-man demonstration of a glee club rendering of “The Wreck of the Hesperus.” I was fully in the spirit of things, but I was yet aware, knowing more than I once did, when he lugged out the song I had been waiting for. There was a certain way he watched me that made me sure it was newly minted.
To me it’s all one who she is, or if I meet her;
Blanchefleur’s smile was never mine, nor Enid’s slender hand,
Yet merely the knowing they live makes living sweeter:
Just to have scanned
The face of each was a grace, and so I bless them;
And here was their match, or one fashioned more lovely still;
In passing alone they’re seen, yet I gently possess them
And always will.
I could tell from his expression that there was more to the song, but he never got around to finishing it. We had been so taken up with our vocalizing that we hadn’t heard other sounds — notably those made by a hurrying horse. We had, indeed, forgotten all about Manon’s anxious lover, when he flung the door open and made the stairs two at a time.
Exchanging lugubrious glances, we listened while he knocked. Next he started to pound on the door. The expected explosion didn’t follow, however. We couldn’t hear Manon’s voice, but whatever she said sent the boy slowly down the steps. Preoccupied, he didn’t notice that there was anyone in the tap room, so he therefore felt free to talk to the housemaid he met at the foot of the stairs.
“Is the landlord about? No, you’ll do.” Inexperienced as he was in other matters, he knew enough to show her some money. “Madame — my-er-wife, you know — is feeling ill, and it would upset her to share her bed tonight. Show me to another room, please.”
I didn’t know which awed me most, the girl’s effrontery or the brazen way Jones was crowding his luck. “Lucius must have given satisfaction,” I remarked. “Well, we won’t have to worry about getting the bounce because of our disreputable pal.”
Golias continued to look disturbed. “Lucius shouldn’t have done that. It reminds me of what the Cu Roi MacDairi did to Cuchullain. It was all right for him to manhandle Cuchullain. He could whip anybody in the Commonwealth, except possibly Heracles. Unfortunately they never met for the championship.”
Golias divided the last of the bottle with care. “As I say, it was all right for MacDairi to kick Cuchullain around, because up to that point it was a fair fight — MacDairi against a few hundred odd — but when he got Setanta down, he rubbed dung in his hair. It’s that sort of thing that breeds vengeance; if not from the injured party, from outraged Delian Law. I’m afraid Lucius will regret this business.”
14
Hot Water for Lucius
I LEARNED that Golias’ dark prophecy was fulfilled early the next morning. I had waked and was just turning over for another nap when Jones came in and threw himself upon the cot — a low-slung affair that wheeled under the double bed Golias and I shared — which he had not previously occupied. My first idea was that he was worn out, and no wonder, but he started writhing and beating the pillow with his clenched fists. Next, as if unable to remain still, he rose and commenced pacing the floor. As he did so, he groaned.
At length I waked up enough to be cu
rious. “What’s the matter?” I yawned. “Did that chippie find somebody with a stronger back?”
He came out of it slowly, as if it was hard for any but his own ideas to reach him. “Oh, hello, Shandon. I thought you were still asleep. What did you say?”
When I repeated my query, he winced as if I had shoved something under his finger nail. “That lecherous little bitch! I wish I had never heard of her. No, I haven’t got any right to curse her. It was all my fault. It wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t met her halfway. I did what I did of my own volition, and it served me right.”
I began to grow concerned. “Don’t tell me you found out she’s got something?”
He was so distracted he didn’t even know what I was talking about. “She’s not the one that’s worrying me,” he said, throwing himself into a chair and burying his face in his hand. “Oh, damn that witch and her curse!”
His exclamation roused Golias. As usual he had full possession of his faculties when he awoke.
“Let’s hear what happened,” he said, sitting up.
Jones closed his eyes, as if to protect them from another sight of the incident he was about to rehearse. “I don’t have to tell you where and with whom I spent the night.”
“No. We’re quick that way.”
“Well, for the girl’s sake and in the interest of good taste, I determined to leave her room as soon as it was light enough to see. It did not occur to me that other people would be stirring that early.” He opened his eyes once more. “Tell me; did you happen to see another beautiful young woman — but a lady, this time — last night?”
Silverlock (Prologue Books) Page 17