Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale

by Tracy Falbe

  “How did I forget your pilgrimage?” Jan said and shook his head.

  Indifferent to Jan’s snide attitude about his reason for passing through the area, Thal watched the next round of betting. Three men stayed in the hand. After two more cards were dealt, Jan knocked out, satisfied with the potency of his hand. His companion folded but Andreli called Jan’s bet and drew more cards before knocking. The two men then had to reveal their hands.

  “Christ on a stick!” Andreli swore and turned away in disgust. His hand scored high, but Jan had a fluxus.

  Laughing, Jan pulled in the coin pile. “I’ll have to remember to leave you enough coin so you don’t have to beg your way out of Rosenberg lands,” Jan said.

  “The night is young,” Andreli grumbled.

  Jan mollified his opponent with more wine. Small pots and unmemorable hands filled the next hour, and the men were content to chat and drink, but gradually the competition intensified. Thal started betting more aggressively. After he won three pots in a row, the men from the castle backed off.

  “Someone’s been coaching you,” Lucas said.

  “I’d like to think I’m able to learn from my mistakes,” Thal said cheerily. He stacked up his coins. The cool metal clinking within his sensitive fingertips was pleasing. He ignored Andreli’s questioning look.

  Now that Thal had a better grasp of the combinations of cards and the possibilities within any given hand, he could pay greater attention to his opponents. He had a keen sense for reading their body language and judging their feelings. Subtle shifts in their moods were palpable to him, and he was beginning to match their feelings to what cards were in their hands. Thal even sensed deception from Gruder once. The man knew he had a bad hand and was betting against him anyway. When Thal did not fold, Gruder dropped out and abandoned the pot to him. Thal had not realized that players could attempt to act like they had a good hand when they did not.

  But his opponents were generally genuine in their beliefs about their hands, and Thal’s run of good cards faded. He tried to restrain himself, but his taste for winning kept prodding him back into the chase. His carefully stacked coins eroded until only a meager hillock was left.

  The slow drain of putting in his ante hand after hand worried him. Finally when he caught a strong pair of kings he stayed in the hand. All the players bet the first round. More cards were dealt and Jan bet a bold amount that made everyone fold except Thal. He had three kings at this point and could still hope to get a fourth one. Even if he did not, his hand remained strong.

  But he sensed confidence from Jan as well. The man had something decent. His burly bet was no bluff. For Thal to put out the last of his coins was surely a gamble. He avoided looking at Andreli, who radiated a lack of amusement.

  Thal wished he had more money so he could raise Jan and get a better sense of the man’s cards, but calling was his only option. Silently he slid out the last of his money.

  The men’s eyes widened at the risky move and then looked in unison at Jan for his reaction. A smile lifted the captain’s beard.

  “You wish you could raise me don’t you, Lesky?” he surmised.

  Thal regretted that his thoughts were so obvious. He would have to work on that too he realized.

  “Show me your cards,” he said.

  “If you’re so sure you have the best hand, why not try to win even more?” Jan said.

  “There’s a goodly amount in this pot,” Thal said.

  “Raise with that lovely fur of yours and I’ll put ten more thalers in,” Jan proposed.

  “Want do you want with an old fur?” Thal argued.

  “It’s the nicest wolf fur I’ve ever seen. It would look good added to my winter cloak,” Jan said.

  Thal bristled with the natural need to reject him, but this was the pot he needed to win to make things right with Andreli. He could use some winnings for himself too. Depending on Gypsy charity was slim pickings. His ragged sandals and threadbare clothes were never going to impress anyone.

  “How do you keep that fur so shiny?” Jan asked.

  Thal narrowed his eyes at the man who seemed extraordinarily eager. Surely the captain had the means to get a nice fur if he wanted one. Suddenly Thal realized that the man wanted the fur because he believed there was something special about it.

  He could not risk losing it. But he wanted to know why Jan wanted it. Did he know something about it? Thal suspected many things about the fur. The seemingly meaningless words whispering in his mind were becoming meaningful. Like listening to a beautiful song in a foreign language, he was beginning to feel the knowledge.

  “This fur is a dear family heirloom,” he said. He pulled it off his shoulders because he was sweaty.

  Jan joked to his companions, “The rag man has an heirloom.”

  “Traveling in poor clothes keeps the bandits away,” Thal explained coolly.

  “Then accept my bet. If you lose, you’ll make your costume more effective,” Jan said.

  “I’d keep more bandits away with that pistol,” Thal said.

  Jan caressed the weapon at his belt. It was his turn to feel violated by someone’s interest in a precious possession.

  “I’ll bet my fur against your pistol and powder horn,” Thal proposed.

  “This is worth more than ten thalers,” Jan protested.

  “That’s my offer. The fur against the pistol. If you don’t like it, just show your cards. I matched your bet already,” Thal said.

  Conflicting desires played across Jan’s face. Something about the fur sorely tempted him. Thal decided that if he lost the fur, he would stalk Jan and find out what he did with it. Perhaps he knew something about such things and Thal could learn crucial information. Then he would take the fur back. He would steal it without guilt because it was his.

  And if he won, then he would have the pistol, which he wanted with a need akin to avarice.

  “I’ll take the wager,” Jan decided.

  His startled companions choked on their protests. They knew Jan had no interest in the opinions of his underlings. The deal was Gruder’s and he asked Thal if he wanted to discard and draw.

  “One card,” Thal said and set one on the playing area. Gruder dealt him a new card. Thal pulled it into his hand. He locked away his reaction, determined to deny Jan any hint of what the next moments would bring.

  Andreli spoke up. “Captain, I’d think it proper to place your pistol on the pot.”

  “I don’t need a Gypsy to tell me what’s proper,” Jan groused.

  Careful to hide the lettering, Thal folded his fur in thirds and set it next to the coins. His shining eyes goaded Jan to follow his example.

  “You’ll not win,” Jan said as he pulled the pistol out. The lamplight showed its brass details with golden twinkles. The thick curving handle was smooth hardwood. The straight smooth metal barrel was dull and surely indifferent to the power it could exert upon a man’s fortunes.

  Ready to squash the hopes of his opponent, Jan flipped his cards with a triumphant flourish. Andreli groaned to see that Jan had a supremus, but then the Gypsy leader looked to Thal who spread his cards for all to see. He had gotten his fourth king and the pot was his.

  “You cheated!” Jan exploded.

  “Your man dealt!” Andreli cried, ready to defend the win.

  Thal reached for the pistol. Jan flopped forward meaning to take it back, but Thal was quicker. He pulled the pistol close to his chest, snatched up his fur, and jumped to his feet. All the men were on their feet in a trice.

  “And your powder horn,” Thal said. His calm further infuriated Jan.

  “I’ll put it up your ass!” Jan yelled.

  Andreli grabbed the captain’s arm in a firm grip. “It was a fair game and you know it.”

  The powerful man shook off Andreli with a fierce sweep of his arm. Andreli fell back against his wagon. Jan stalked toward Thal who stood his ground. The captain swung his fist and Thal dodged it without moving his feet. Jan recovered his bala
nce and swung at Thal again and missed.

  Jan’s companions jumped into the tussle and Thal had to move back.

  “The powder horn too please,” Thal said calmly. He was hoping to diffuse the situation. He even sympathized a little. If he had lost the fur, he probably would have gone crazy despite his plan.

  Jan yanked the horn off his body, breaking the strap, and hurled it at Thal, who dodged the projectile.

  All the dogs in the camp rushed into the fray and circled Thal’s feet, barking with unhesitating defense. Jan kicked the little dog that charged him and it flew aside with a yipe.

  The sound triggered Thal’s temper and reddened his vision. He barely restrained himself from counterattacking. The half dozen camp mongrels kept Jan’s men back. People were rushing up and forming a circle around the scuffle. With more men at his back, Andreli bravely attempted to seize control, but Jan’s fury was beyond reach.

  “You think that’s the only gun I have? Plenty more arms at the castle, but we’ll hardly need them to burn out you tinkering tricksters. You should have left when I warned you the first time. Try and run now!” Jan yelled. He pushed through the crowd toward his horses with his companions in tow. They mounted up and lashed their horses into a run through the camp to scatter the Gypsies and their guests.

  Thal picked up the powder horn. Happily the cap had stayed on. The short dog that had earned a kick looked at him, and Thal patted his head and murmured praise.

  He held his pistol up to a hanging lantern and admired his new prize, oblivious to the alarm around him. The villagers were leaving quickly. The Gypsies were shrill as they yelled to each other.

  Andreli stomped up to Thal and shoved him.

  The hostility took Thal aback.

  “Why?” Andreli demanded.

  A confused frown was Thal’s first response until he managed, “Did you want me to lose?”

  “That would have kept my life easy,” Andreli said.

  “But all the money you need is right here,” Thal said and gestured toward the abandoned game. Petro was already sorting the coins.

  Andreli clasped his forehead. After composing himself, he patted Thal’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled. Of course you had to try and win with that hand. What luck!” He smiled wistfully and accepted that the wheel of fortune was spinning tonight.

  Thal tossed his fur over a shoulder. “That man wanted my fur. I think he must know something about it,” he said.

  “Know something about it?” Andreli fretted. “What is that thing?”

  “I don’t know how to explain,” Thal said.

  Andreli shook his head. “Mother Mary help us. We have to leave now or we’ll lose everything.”

  “What do you mean?” Thal said, finally registering the panic around him.

  “He’ll be back with men-at-arms this very night. He’ll set our wagons on fire. Take our livestock. Maybe even kill us. He can do whatever he wants!”

  Pleas from several people at once tore Andreli away. He moved off into the crowd, yelling orders.

  Thal looked down at the gun in his hand. He was very glad to have it, and apparently he was going to have an education in its use very soon. Resolutely, he tightened his grip on it. He knew how to kill. Countless times he had felt the final throes of life kicking while his jaws crushed the pulsing flow.

  As if hopeful for divine guidance, Thal looked up at the moon. Its gentle light illuminated new memories. He had to defend these people who had been kind to him, and he believed he had a way.

  Chapter 8. True Nature

  Within an hour the bells were raising the alarm at the monastery. Their clangs carried through the clear night. The Gypsies scurried in the moonlight bundling their possessions and harnessing their horses or donkeys. Babies cried and children chattered questions that their parents were too overwrought to answer. Most people hurriedly rolled up their tents and canopies with resigned faces. The task was too inevitable.

  Guilt needled Thal like thistles stuck in his shirt. He had not been thinking about the consequences of his actions for the other people.

  He loaded up Emerald’s rugs, pots and pans, and canopy because she had no husband to help her. She tucked little items among the big bundles he lifted into her wagon and told him where to put what and not to crush this or that.

  Concern clouded her face that was usually confident and jovial.

  “I’m sorry,” Thal offered.

  She paused in her packing. “Don’t blame yourself. Things like this happen. We’ll get away. It’ll take a while for that bully to get men up and armed from the castle,” she said.

  “But the villagers could be coming right now,” Thal worried. He was confused by the contradiction of the locals. They liked to play at the Gypsy camp, but the Gypsies’ presence was barely tolerated.

  “Oh, those fools will fuss and yell but won’t march up here until Jan gets back with some real men,” Emerald said.

  “I still regret causing this,” he said.

  His concern was endearing to Emerald. “Oh, Thal, I’m more worried about you. You’re the one he’s coming after,” she said.

  She had expected that dire fact to fill him with dread, but instead resolution to face mortal danger hardened his youthful features.

  “He’ll find me waiting for him,” Thal said.

  “By yourself?” she criticized. “Stop your foolishness. Flee with us. We’ll get away and be laughing about the story around the fire soon enough,” Emerald said.

  “I have to delay him so you can get away,” Thal said.

  “One pistol won’t be enough for that,” she argued.

  “I shall see,” Thal said thoughtfully as his mind strayed down a path toward the far off forgotten magic of hunters long long ago.

  Andreli rushed up to Emerald. “I need you to get the families moving now. Take the old road straight south. We’ll make for Austria,” he said.

  Emerald nodded and hollered to two lads to get her sagging old draft horse harnessed. The beast looked ready to spend its final years at pasture, but instead would haul a wagon into mountains.

  Catching Andreli’s arm, Emerald said, “Our friend here thinks he’ll stay to fight off the castle guards.”

  Andreli rolled his eyes at Thal’s juvenile chivalry. His nod to Emerald told her that he would take care of her precious guest. She gave Thal a hug and told him not to be stupid. Then she got her wagon going so she could start the procession away.

  Proud of his people for their swift reaction, Andreli had some hope that they would get away unscathed. Experience had taught him to camp a certain distance away from local authorities.

  Sternly to Thal he said, “So you think that you’re going to shoot your new pistol?”

  “I think I’ll have to,” Thal said.

  “You’ve got three lead balls and no experience. How is that going to stop Jan and twenty of his henchmen? Be reasonable. I know it’s hard for a young man, but you must flee,” he advised.

  “I must make sure you’re not pursued,” Thal said.

  Admittedly Thal’s bravery impressed him, but Andreli still said, “Thal, you can’t kill any of them. You’ll be condemned by the Rosenbergs. They could send word near and far of your crime and make you a fugitive. If they catch you, they’ll hang you. Don’t try to fight. It’s not worth it.”

  “But he can threaten to burn your things? Why doesn’t the law protect you too?” Thal challenged.

  “Laws do not apply to Gypsies in positive ways,” Andreli said. The injustice of it was dull to him. Coping with reality was the concern.

  Thal considered the potential of being declared a murderer and understood that he would have to be careful. “He’s coming for me to take the pistol and probably my fur. If I go with your people, he might keep chasing. If I stay to defend your retreat, he’ll have little motive to follow you,” he said.

  “You may be right,” Andreli murmured as he watched wagons and carts lurch away surrounded by men and women bent ben
eath heavy packs. Medina trotted by leading a milk cow with bags tied across its bony back and a bawling calf in tow. He had to think about the welfare of the group, but guilt on Thal’s behalf nagged at him.

  “Don’t blame yourself. I got you into gambling with that ass. I should’ve stopped that nonsense about the fur and pistol,” Andreli admitted.

  Thal drew his new pistol. “Give me another lesson on loading this and then go,” he said.

  Andreli sighed as if he were disappointed in himself. “Come let’s get my pistol. I can’t leave you here alone. You haven’t any more sense than a tree. Now that I think about it, we could shoot a few balls over their heads and scare them back. Jan won’t be expecting it, I promise you that,” he said.

  Thal grinned. He welcomed a companion in the face of danger.

  Andreli’s wagon was the last to leave with Petro at the reins. Gerling had been willing to stay as well, but Andreli wanted at least one firearm to stay with the group.

  They followed the wagon until they reached a quiet crossroads south of the river. Large trees stretched their boughs over the narrow old road, making it a dark tunnel into the hills. The last of the Gypsies slipped away and a pregnant quiet overtook the two men who stayed behind. The moonlight brightened the monastery on the hill overlooking the river. The straight lines of the church tower confronted the soft infinity of the mystical light. The bells had stopped ringing, but a line of torches was on the road coming from the direction of Rosenberg castle.

  Thal tracked the torchlight as it blinked in and out from behind trees. Thal whirled when he heard the soft paws of an animal pattering down the road behind him. Out of the shadows emerged the short dog that had befriended him.

  He bent to pet him. The soft short fur on its brown and white head soothed his nerves. “Go on. Catch up to your friends,” Thal said and gestured up the road.

  “It seems Gerling’s dog prefers you now,” Andreli remarked.

  Thal scratched the dog’s ears. “You’re a good boy, but go on.” After a gentle shove the dog retreated back up the road.

  Thal checked his pistol. He had been warned that the wheel lock was notoriously unreliable. Andreli did the same and then said, “We shouldn’t stand in the middle of the road. Let’s get over by that thicket. We can fire from there and then slip into the woods. If they keep going we can sneak along the road and shoot at them again. But remember we’re just trying to scare them. Don’t kill anybody.”