A Malevolent Manner (Patrick Pierce #1)

by William Scott

  *

  The door opened silently and matched the quiet of the foyer he stepped into. Unsure how to proceed and slightly nervous on what awaited him, Pierce decided to close the door as loudly as possible without slamming it. With a slight thump and loud click the door was closed, quickly obtaining a response of sound beyond the door. Chairs squeaked and boots thumped on the floor in the adjoining room. Muffled voices soon changed to silence, and Pierce was unsure if he should call out or await a further sign. Surely someone would come and see to the door? Before he could make a decision, the answer came in the form of heavy metronomic footsteps.

  The footsteps materialized into the form a large man, who nearly filled the doorway he stepped into. Pierce instantly perceived the military manner of the man in both his bearing and his attire. His large black boots were highly polished and solidly planted to the floor. His brown tunic was wrinkle free and perfectly sized for his frame which was currently ramrod straight. After a slight pause, he walked towards Pierce, his kilt of black tartan and brown leather sporran swinging rhythmically to his precise steps.

  “Lord Pierce,” Uttered a strong voice that matched his uniform and manner. “It is my honour to welcome you to Ravenwood Manor and the Hall of the Brown Pack.” Although his tone was even and unemotional, his eyes held no such disinterest. They were an intense blue; searching, clever, and alert.

  “Pierce will do fine,” Patrick replied, still uncomfortable with the new formalities.

  “I’m afraid it won’t my Lord,” countered the large man. “I am MacDuff, your Whip. With your permission I will show you the rest of our Hall and the remaining members of your Pack.”

  Pierce nodded in assent and walked towards the doorway that had momentarily been occupied by MacDuff, who quickly fell in step with him.

  “MacDuff you said? Surely you’re not the one from the Bards play? You didn’t slay MacBeth did you?” Pierce asked looking at his companion. He looked to be less than middle age and without a speck of grey in his thick reddish brown hair. But as he was finding out, time no longer held the same rules he once thought.

  “No sir, a little before my time,” came the reply breaking through the thick beard in what Pierce assumed was a quick smile. “I do come from the same stock, but a little later.”

  They walked into a large room with a giant fireplace that sat prominently at the far end. The same stag emblem was carved into the stone over the mantle. An array of weapons hung from the walls in between arched windows. Along with columns in the corners, the room had the effect of a church, but one devoted to warfare rather than prayer. The church effect was also somewhat muted by the array of brown leather furniture and the polished oak dining table reflecting the light from the windows. The table held what appeared to be the remnants of a meal.

  Pierce soon realized that the meal had been interrupted, as MacDuff guided him to his right and presented him to two men. They were dressed similarly to MacDuff, however with black pants rather than kilts. Although they were dressed the same, the similarities ended there. The man on the left was tall and lean, with cropped red hair. Meanwhile his companion was short and muscular, with wild black hair attempting to cover his ears and eyes. Walking up towards them, Pierce found that he was probably an average between the two of them in terms of size.

  “These are your Hounds my Lord,” announced MacDuff. “This is Sean and this is Liam,” pointing to the taller man first, then to the shorter one.

  “Please excuse my ignorance MacDuff, but what exactly are your duties here? Dr. Cleaver said that members from the Manor are part of a Hunt Club, but I must confess I feel I’m still in the dark.”

  “Surely you have been part of a hunt before sir?”

  “You mean like a fox hunt?”

  “Precisely.”

  “No I haven’t.”

  “Deer, grouse, boar, big game?”

  “None of the above.”

  “You mean you’ve never hunted anything?!” exclaimed Sean with exasperation, before quickly regaining his self-control.

  “Never. I’m not much of an outdoorsman,” replied Pierce, ignorant of the accusatorial tone of the question. “I’ve never even fired a gun.”

  MacDuff was unmoved by the declaration, but Sean couldn’t hide his incredulity, rolling his eyes and looking towards Liam.

  “Christ, they’ve saddled us with a bleedin’ tosser,” murmured Liam in response.

  Before Pierce could respond, MucDuff had wheeled around and was now staring both men into quiet submission. When he turned back towards Pierce he did not have the expression of embarrassment or anger one might have expected. Indeed Pierce thought he caught the quick look of someone enjoying themselves.

  “As I was saying sir,” continued MacDuff, “As the Whip it is my responsibility to drive the Hounds and maintain the pace of the hunt. The Hounds in turn work to flush out the game. The three of us work together to get you the perfect shot, before one of the other Hunt members gets the opportunity. Each member has a hunting party similarly formed.”

  “I see.” Seeing that the men were still standing to attention he asked them to relax.

  “I have a question, sir.”

  “Yes, it’s Sean right.”

  “Aye, what did you do before being recruited to the Manor? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “Why should I mind?” replied Pierce good naturedly. “I was a public servant, a government employee. I worked in an office writing policy papers for various departments, mostly procedural type documents. Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious, sir,” he replied, this time not trying to hide his sarcasm.

  “Curious Sean?” Questioned MacDuff stonily.

  “Curious MacDuff,” countered Sean turning towards Pierce. “Curious that we have a new Huntsman that doesn’t hunt, hasn’t fired a weapon, is not an outdoorsman, and doesn’t look like he could fight off anything tougher than a common cold!” Then bowing to Pierce with a great flourish he added, “my Lord.”

  Pierce had been ill prepared for this outburst and still had a pleasant smile on his face. Up until this point everyone he had dealt with, even Drummond, had been professional, if not pleasant. At least to his face. The fact that what the man said was all true made a rebuttal slow in returning. MacDuff had no such delay, although his rebuttal was not as robust as Pierce expected.

  “Careful Sean, looks can be deceiving.”

  “Only if they’ve been deceptively created,” countered Liam coming to his friends’ side of the argument. “I see nothing deceptive about this one.”

  “Is that so? “

  “Aye, it is. This man is about as dangerous as a newborn and I wouldn’t trust him with a picnic basket, let alone my life.”

  “You forget your place, both of you…”

  “If you don’t mind,” cut in Pierce having regained his voice and composure, “but I would appreciate the courtesy of you speaking as if I were in the same room as you.”

  Both of them stared back at him silently.

  “Neither of you believe I am fit for this?”

  “Without a doubt” “Aye”

  Pierce didn’t think he was up to it either, but he suddenly felt a desire to prove himself. He was tired of being alone and saw before him the chance to change that. Eventually he’d need help beyond what Melrose could offer and three good additions stood facing him. Their honest rejection of him made Pierce doubt their collusion with Cleaver or Drummond. Otherwise they’d surely be more friendly, welcoming and obedient?

  Determined to gain their confidence, Pierce realized it would have to be done now. They would be no use to him if they simply nodded their heads at any order he gave, he needed allies not automatons. But for that to happen he’d have to show them something they didn’t expect, something to change their minds. When it came to physical endeavours he only had one real skill.

  “What would I need to do to disprove you?” Pierce asked, hoping they didn’t want to wrestle.

&
nbsp; Both men were wary now, not really sure where this was heading. However the answer was so clear that they maintained their stance.

  “I don’t think there is anything you can do.”

  “How about a duel then?” he offered, pointing to a collection of swords mounted on the wall like a deadly steel fan.

  Both men sniggered. Pierce thought it had been an admirable solution and hoped they’d ignore the pistols mounted on the opposite wall.

  “I’m serious.”

  “I’m sure you are, but we’ve already heard from the Red Hounds. How you stumbled into a duel already. However I promise you, our pistols are not bent like the Colonel’s. Plus it would be an unfair advantage, you never having fired a pistol. I couldn’t fire on a helpless man with a clear conscience.”

  “Swords then,” Uttered MacDuff, ending the conversation and heading towards the door at the far end of the room, not waiting for the others to follow.