by Hall, Ian
Oh, the thought of just bending her over the workbench. “I have a proposition for you.”
She carefully emptied the herbs into a large earthenware container. “Very well.”
“Mistress Abigail, I am to travel to Ludlow Castle, to settle the Prince with his new wife. I would like to have an ally in the town, or maybe even in the castle. I can pay you.”
Abigail laughed. “So you have my name.” She crossed to me and sniffed, her nostrils flaring wide. “And I know nothing about you, except you cut into a lady last night. Even through your damp clothes I can smell perfumed oil mingled with her extract.”
I felt thoroughly uncomfortable with the depth and accuracy of her senses.
“Why would I accept your invitation? I have a warm bed to sleep in, and the villagers are kind enough to me.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Ah, that!” She tidied the bench, hopefully done for the evening. “Is the most important question of all.”
I smiled, not having asked it for nothing. “How long?”
“Twenty-some years.” She winced. “I know they’ll start to notice my longevity soon, if they haven’t already. I can’t stay this age forever. But it’s such a nice village!”
In the growing dusk, we walked back to Abigail’s cottage in the village, where I met the sleepy girl from before; Madeline.
I’m certain midnight had passed, when we all took to the single bed of the cottage and swam together like eels in April. When I’d tasted the virtues of both women, Abigail and I both fed from the delectable neck of the young girl, leaving her pathetically weak between us.
No more was said about her joining with me in Ludlow, and when I rose the next morning to leave, Abigail had already left, leaving me a single reluctant look at the shockingly pale creature we’d ravaged the night before. To my alarm, my sex rose again, and I almost took her that morning, but I knew she’d likely die in the process, so curbed my lust accordingly.
My horse lasted to the next evening when I changed him for a new mount at a wayside inn. Due to my sexual exploits of the last two evenings, I rested well that night, determined to reach Ludlow the next day.
As I approached the town, the dark, rain-threatening skies cleared in a northerly wind, and the sun shone for the first time in many days. Above the town, the golden battlements glistened in the darkening yellow of a late afternoon sun.
But at the gateway to the castle, no guards stood. In fact, as I passed under the arch, I was not even challenged. The grassy field beyond held the reason.
A drunken rabble, mostly in the uniform of the guards, caroused near the jousting rails. It seems that during the lack of authority in the last few months, they’d lost all discipline.
As I rode towards them, heads began to turn, elbows hit ribs, and soon, the whole troop stood looking at me, knowing all too well that they’d been caught red-handed.
“Who’s in charge here?” I called, my voice cutting through the embarrassed silence. I instantly knew his identity from the turned heads. “You!”
“Aye, sire.”
“Your name?”
“Jethro, sire.”
“Well, Jethro, the Prince is married, and will return to Ludlow with his Spanish Princess.” I arched my back on the horse, looking around, but found no malice, just stupidity within a lack of leadership. “I will attend a turning out of the guard tomorrow morning. I expect perfection. You will soon be guarding the future King of England, tomorrow I will see if you are up to the task!”
The leader stood to attention, and tugged on his forelock. “Aye, sir. We’ll be ready.”
I wheeled the mount for the castle, and rode onto the double-arched bridge over the dark, stinking moat. Inside the cobbled courtyard, a stable boy ran out to grab my reins. “At least the whole place hasn’t fallen into bedlam,” I snapped, then smiled at the petrified lad. “Take good care of her, she’s been ridden hard.”
I roused both the kitchen staff and the maids, warned them about a morning inspection, ordered logs for the fire in the great hall, then sat in front of it as it blazed up into the rafters.
I’m not certain that I’d have called it ‘home’, but the castle did have a familiarity about it that I settled into. I waved away food of any kind, but did accept the fawning servants who came with mulled wine; a strong drink, warmed at the fire, laced with sleepy herbs, perfect for a cold evening.
I awoke in the same chair, the fire considerably lower, a coverlet over my body.
Sluggishly I rose, went to my old room, and despite the cold, damp interior, lay on the bed, and fell back to sleep immediately.
The low morning sun through my bedroom window streaked across the bed, and I crossed to the dirty glass, and stretched, my bones creaking as I did so. For the normal humans, riding was fine, but it did shake the body considerably. “I can’t wait for the invention of the Honda Accord.” I grinned at the glass.
I walked up to the high battlements, and gazed down on the courtyard below, small figures dashing back and forth. I had stirred up a hornet’s nest right enough.
Again, a feeling of ‘belonging’ came across me as I crossed to the west side and looked down through the leafless trees at the meandering river below.
Deciding to make an early start, I quickly clipped down the various stairways to the shaded courtyard, then out into the sunshine, across the moat. With a swagger, I strode across the dew-covered grass towards the barracks, pleased to see the guard turning out, having seen my approach.
“Morning, lads!” I roared across the shortening distance between us. The men quickly assembled into two ranks. I counted fifteen.
“Good morning, sire,” Jethro said, his chest standing out proud.
“Is this all you have?”
“The rest rode with Prince Arthur to Richmond, sire.”
I distinctly remember a good contingent of soldiers, something was definitely amiss. “That can’t be all the guards we have?”
His shoulders visibly slumped. “No sire, but this is all that’s here.”
“And where are the rest?”
He looked around, obviously trying to drum up some support.
“Come on, man!” I snapped walking over to him, doing my best drill sergeant impersonation. “Where are the rest?”
“Well, sire, Sir Harry took half of us when he last rode to Haddon Hall, sir. We ain’t seen them back for months.”
I stood, puzzled. I’d never heard of this. “Who’s this Sir Harry?”
“Sir Harry Vernon, sire. He’s the official governor of the Prince Arthur, sire, and his treasurer.”
I had lived with Prince Arthur for six months, and I’d never heard or seen the man. No wonder the Prince dressed in rags. “And he has half the Prince’s guard?”
“Aye, sir…” Jethro seemed to catch himself before saying something else.
“Out with it, man.” I moved closer, standing eye to eye. “What were you going to say?”
“Well, sire, seems we ain’t been paid in some weeks, sire.”
“Oh, I see.” I walked back to my original position. “How many men have not been paid? Hands up!”
To my disappointment, they all raised their hands. Yet they’d stayed in the castle, sort of on duty.
“How much are you due, Jethro?”
“I’m due a few shilling an’ change sire,” he looked. “Most o’ the men are less, but that’s their station, sire.”
Again, he paused, almost saying something, then holding it back.
“Out with it, Jethro,” I said, shaking my head, smiling.
“Well, Master DeVere, sir, most o’ the merchants in town ain’t been paid up to date either, see.”
I took a small purse from my pocket, and quickly checked maybe three pounds in small coins. I tossed it to Jethro. “Get the men paid. Any extra, spend it on food for the kitchen. You eat well today. I’ll deal with the town later.”
To my embarrassment the men cheered, their happy f
aces making the morning a bit jauntier.
I waved at them to stop. “How far to this Sir Harry Vernon?”
“Haddon House is a hun’red miles at least, sire.”
“Very well, Jethro. Tomorrow morning, I want full turnout on the gate. It stays closed at all times.”
“Aye, sire!”
“And get the six best men, the best horses we have. Tomorrow we’re going to pay a visit to Sir Harry Vernon.”
But before that, I had Ludlow Castle to tidy up.
December 1st, 1501
The Scouring of Haddon Hall
One question in the kitchen proved that the lack of recent pay proved to be endemic, and again I used my own funds to cover the costs.
Considering the money had been stolen, or at the very least, liberated, I felt no guilt in using it that way.
I sent the head cook into town to get meat, veggies, cakes, and wine. Tonight, we were going to have a party, and get some sense of unity back into the castle.
As I was walking across the grass to the gatehouse, the gates in front of me opened, and two coaches drove carefully though the archway.
I walked to meet them, waving at the first coachman to stop. To my intense pleasure, Mistress Phillipa stuck her head out of the window opening. Oh boy did I need matronly assistance right then. “What’s the holdup now?” she snarled up at the driver, then saw me.
“Master DeVere.”
“Mistress Phillipa.” I smiled approaching, and opening the door. “I’m glad I caught you here, I have business in the gatehouse.”
“I have…”
“The gatehouse!” I chided her, but smiled, holding my hand to help her descend from the high carriage. “It has been decided that the Prince and his bride will live here until a proper bedchamber can be arranged in the castle.”
“My goodness!” she startled. “They can’t stay here!”
“Why not?”
I opened the back door to the gatehouse to be greeted by the stalest smell I’d ever witnessed.
“That’s why not!” She crossed the threshold. “It’s stale! Damp! I mean, it’s been used for storage for the last ten years!”
On entering, the smell almost overpowering me, but I detected no sign of dampness. “Can we clean it up?”
“Fit for a Prince?”
I didn’t think Arthur would care much. “Fit for a Princess,” I corrected.
Upstairs, the bedrooms were surprisingly large, and each had its own fireplace. The more I explored, the more I liked it. It had all the quintessential quaintness of my impression of an English Bed and Breakfast; Tudor style.
“How long will this take?” I asked. “If I have money for the best carpenters, cleaners, and such.”
“With help? A week.” She looked quite definite.
“I had expected much longer.”
“It’s actually in much better state than I first thought,” she said, looking round, taking in details. “When do I start?”
“Today.”
I told her of the journey to Sir Harry Vernon’s, and found the mention of the name instantly met with derision. “He’s never been a ‘governor’ to that poor child, and as far as ‘treasurer’, he’s taken more money than he’s given back.”
“Well that stops when we arrive at Haddon Hall.”
I got Phillipa back onto the waiting coach, and as the two black carriages were drawn up the grassy slope to the castle keep, Eleanor stuck her precocious face out of the window. “Morning, Master DeVere.”
I stood, my hands on hips, and watched her cock-sucking lips head towards the castle.
That evening, with the lack of any royalty to wait on, we all feasted in the dining room. We toasted the new Prince and Princess, and wallowed in the quiet confidence of order, discipline and a wage for a day’s work.
I’d say that everyone, apart from the few guards on gate duty, drank a little too much.
Although Eleanor never quite strayed directly to my side, I could sense her eyes on me most of the time. When I excused myself, candlestick in one hand, and took my slightly buzzed head upstairs to bed, I wasn’t shocked when she appeared at my side, clutching onto my arm, nuzzling her head into my side. It felt good.
When we got to my bedroom door, I turned, and with every fiber of my being, I stood ready to send her away from my arms.
But of course, she stood on tiptoes and kissed me. And that fleshy snake slid into my mouth and dallied with mine. Before I knew, I’d pulled her through the door into my room. I wanted to waste no time in getting my prick inside her, yet I also wanted to linger, to savor the delight, so long denied to me.
When I entered her, she gasped, closing her eyes, loving every second.
Then, in the candlelit afterglow, she lay in my arms, her small breasts heaving with past exertion.
“Richard?”
“Yes, Mistress Eleanor?”
“I think I am with child.”
Well, to say that I was shocked would have been a complete understatement.
“Wow, how do you know?”
She poked my ribs playfully with a hard finger. “How do you think I know? I missed my monthlies last time. I will have our child.”
Then, of course, the full bullet hit home; she thought that she carried my child, and although I knew that vampires were infertile as a species, I couldn’t just tell her that.
“Could it have been the Prince?” I asked.
“I don’t think so, Richard, we have coupled far more often. With him it was just one time, and he wasn’t ‘deep’, you know what I mean? Not as deep as you get.”
I gave her a hug with the arm under her, and lay back considering what this meant to me in this time period. I couldn’t be expected to marry, could I?
Crap.
My dreams seemed fitful, and when I awoke, Eleanor lay in my bed, only the top of her head not under the coverlet.
Frost covered the window, and my breath condensed in clouds before me.
The guards were paraded on time, and the six men already picked. Despite the chill of the morning, we set out to cover the hundred miles to Haddon Hall with as much speed as possible. Conversation proved light that first day, our heads bowed low, just riding hard. By day two we’d covered over half the distance, resting in Derby, with just twenty miles for the next day; we’d arrive relatively fresh.
In the crisp morning air, Haddon Hall looked like a cross between a castle and a big house; almost like someone wanted a castle made, but just didn’t build it tall and strong enough.
The high wall round the house had the obligatory arched entrance, and of course, we were met by one of the Prince’s own guards.
“What you doing, Tommy?” Jethro called to the uncomfortable-looking man on the wall.
“He paid us, so he did,” Tommy shouted back.
“Open the gate please,” I said, sore and not in a good mood. “And be quick about it.”
“But Sir Harry…”
“There’s only one man you should be worried about!” I bawled, and Tommy visibly blanched. “And that’s the King that’ll take your head off if you don’t let me inside!”
Well, that did it. In two minutes we were riding into a large graveled courtyard. Servants appeared from the house.
“We’re here to see Sir Harry Vernon!” I called, literally jumping from my mount, landing with a loud ‘crunch’ on the stones. “Jethro?”
“Aye, sire?”
“Round the men up, I want an inspection as soon as you can manage it.” I strode directly for the open doors of the house. “Where’s Sir Harry?”
A short man walked backwards in front of me, rubbing his hands together. “He’s in the north pastures, sire.”
I stopped in my tracks, surprising him. “Then send for him!” My words echoed in the large vestibule.
As I awaited the landowner, I walked around the house; paintings on most walls, both portraits and landscapes, tapestries, fine silver, fine china. In comparison to the damp and ba
sic conditions in Ludlow, this man wallowed in a wealth of riches.
Then punctuated by apologies from the same servant that had accosted me, Sir Harry Vernon strode into the room.
Sir Harry, a short portly man, looked to be in his sixties, with wispy grey hair escaping from under his small cap. A small red mouth opened in the middle of white moustache and beard. “What’s the meaning of this?”
I felt in no mood to dance around. “I’ll tell you what’s going on.” I moved right to him, grabbed him by the lapels of his grey tunic and breathed all over his face. “My name is Richard DeVere, and I answer to Prince Arthur, Prince of Wales. You’re going to tell me every single way you’ve made money or profit as Prince Arthur’s treasurer, and you’re not going to stop until I tell you to!”
He looked terrified.
“Every detail, every penny,” I said. “No lies. In fact, you’ll find it impossible to tell lies.”
His pupils had enlarged slightly, and I knew I had him.
“Out with it!” I roared into his face, my spittle sparking at him.
“Eh, I get two thousand guineas per annum,” his words came slow, but I didn’t mind. “Eh, from the King’s treasury. The estate brings in maybe three thousand more.”
“What estate?”
“The castle. The grounds around Ludlow. It gets paid directly to me.”
“Is that it?”
Sir Harry shook his head. “As Prince of Wales, Arthur also gets a stipend from the Welsh Marches. Again this is paid directly to me. After all, I am the Prince’s treasurer.”
“How much?”
“It varies from year to year.”
“How much last time?”
“A thousand, a bit more. That’s the only income.”
“Very well, how many people from the Prince’s retinue are here in Haddon Hall?”
“Twenty seven.”
“All guards?”
“No. I borrowed some maids. The best cook.”
Crap, he’d really done a number on the Ludlow household.
“And how much does the household at Ludlow cost you each year?”