by Tracy Falbe
Disappointed, he let his shirt fall back into place. He really needed the wound to mend. Experimenting with his power would have to wait.
Retuning to his main task, Thal trailed the hogs and took note of where they went to bed down before dawn.
A splendid bird-chirping morning heralded his return to the castle. Pink and gold bouquets of fluffy clouds blazed around the rising sun, and the greens of the blooming spring soaked up the power of their heavenly benefactor.
Pistol jumped in circles around his feet while he crossed the bridge. Brutus and Lucky barked to him from their kennel where they were put every morning.
The courtyard was empty and Thal headed for a side entrance that led to the kitchen. Inside servants were loading bread loaves into an oven and churning butter. He filled a cup from the barrel of drinking water and slaked his thirst. He was taking a second cup when Francesca entered.
“Thal,” she whispered and sidled up to him. “Where have you been?”
He wiped the water off of his lips. “Who was looking for me?” he asked back.
She looked down. “You weren’t in your room last night,” she whispered.
Her nocturnal interest in his whereabouts excited him a little, but he tried to ignore it. He suspected she would not really want him if she knew what he was.
“Where were you?” she repeated.
Thal said, “I was scouting the woods for the hunt.”
“Oh, that’s sensible,” she said. “Let me get you some breakfast.”
“I think it best to stay hungry,” he said.
“Why? It could be a long day,” she said. A woman did not like to be put off from fetching food for a man she liked.
“Motivation,” he explained.
His sensitive ears picked up the clopping of horse hooves in the courtyard, and he assumed Patercek would be out soon.
“Have a nice morning,” he said and started off.
“Good luck,” Francesca said, disappointed that he was leaving so quickly.
In the courtyard Markus and Orsh and a half dozen young men were assembling. They carried spears and bows and Markus had two muskets. Two horses, one black and one brown, were saddled. Their wide hooves danced with anticipation. The dogs woofed insistently to be let out of their kennel.
Patercek burst out of his castle, filled with exuberance. His glossy dark boots contrasted with the beige leather breeches he wore. A green half cloak encircled his big torso and silver pendants glittered on his shoulders. A green hat shaded his eyes. Its plume of multi-colored feathers seemed more suited to a costume ball.
He greeted his servants warmly. Orsh held his horse while he swung up into the saddle. His favorite steed pranced as his master took up the reins.
“Come, Thal. The other horse is for you,” he commanded.
Trying to hide his uncertainty Thal approached the brown horse. The animal swung its head toward him. The big delicate nostrils snorted, and it backed away.
Inviting the trust of a herd animal seemed beyond Thal’s capacity. The horse dragged the lad holding its reins. Then the animal neighed in alarm and pulled loose. Patercek’s horse balked a little.
“Easy,” Patercek said in a soothing yet strong voice.
The other horse stopped near the stable door and looked at Thal warily.
When the servant ran to catch the horse, Thal said, “No need for me to ride.”
“Nonsense,” Patercek said. “Surely you’re a man who can ride.”
“I’ll run with the dogs. You’ll see, my Lord. It’ll be for the best,” Thal said.
“Very well,” Patercek granted.
Thal said, “Does my Lord desire to kill a boar today?”
“Saints yes! But that old bully out there is as hard to find as a unicorn,” Patercek said.
“I know where he is,” Thal said.
Astonished by the confidence, Patercek hoped that his guest’s cockiness was justified.
“I would appreciate the return of my knives,” Thal said.
“Of course,” Patercek said. With a glance to Markus he conveyed the request, and Markus had a boy fetch the blades.
When Thal got back his knives he slipped them into his boots. He did not intend to face a boar without tusks of his own.
Brutus and Lucky were jumping against the bars of their kennel. Thal let them out himself. Bursting forth, Brutus and Lucky led the hunters out the gate. The dogs soon picked up the trail where Thal had come and gone across the meadow. They snuffled back and forth along it waiting for the men to catch up.
“Let us take the north trail,” Patercek advised.
“I recommend we bear straight west,” Thal said.
“It’s so refreshing to be contradicted,” Patercek noted sarcastically.
“If we go north the wind will betray us,” Thal said.
Placated somewhat by Thal’s reason, Patercek said, “I suppose on the hunt the huntsman is the lord.”
“Excuse me,” Thal said, not really listening, and rushed ahead.
He diverted the dogs from a game trail of little value and kept them on the course he had figured for catching the hogs in their hiding place.
About halfway around the second hill, Patercek caught up to Thal. “The going is too rough this way,” the lord complained.
Only a faint trail scratched at the jutting stones, boggy patches, and thick woodland. Thal checked the wind again and insisted they continue. When Patercek frowned, he added, “We can carry the boar back by the easy trail.”
He disappeared into the foliage that had overgrown the trail. A few seconds later he looked down from higher ground and beckoned the hunters. A few men groaned.
After tramping through a horde of biting flies, the hunters emerged into more open woodland with the wind in their faces. Brutus and Lucky howled at the same time and dashed down a slope. The abrupt excitement of their baying erased the hardship of the hike and everyone ran to catch up with the dogs. Thal hollered to the young man carrying his musket to keep up. In the lead, he raced through feathery ferns. Their bent fronds flapped with his passing. He jumped off a little ledge, skidded down a slope, and started running again. The great dogs were bashing through the brush at the bottom of the hill. Branches and leaves shook and large and small squealing bodies fled in every direction.
Thal burst onto the scene as the dogs were running amok among the wild swine. The boar and two sows were standing their ground. The mighty tusks of the boar lashed out like chaotic saw blades. The dogs jumped back. A sow plowed into Brutus and the heavy dog went flying. Lucky snapped at the portly female but the crafty animal dodged the dangerous jaws.
Thal pulled out his knives and charged the boar. With his focus so confidently on a target, the dogs joined him. Despite landing hard Brutus rolled up fighting and jumped on the back of the wild boar. His fangs sank into its thick neck, and the dog tried to unbalance the boar by dragging on it with his weight. Lucky dashed in and got a back leg. The boar kicked wildly but not even its significant strength could shake loose the bear trap jaws.
Thal jumped close and slashed the boar on the cheek. Even with two dogs restraining it, the boar lunged at Thal with a mighty effort. He danced back from sturdy tusks that could tear open his gut. His wolf sense told him that this mighty boar was a ridiculous target, but Thal was a man now, and the thrill of the great battle was intoxicating. The nasty screaming of the boar raised the intensity of the confrontation. Thal could smell the blood dripping from its wounded face. His hunger lashed him to a final effort. With both knives he jumped close to the boar again and thrust the blades into its ribs.
The other hunters streamed down the hill, beating back branches and trying to see what was going on. Patercek had to abandon his mount. Markus hustled behind him with the new musket.
The young man toting Thal’s musket caught up. His eyes were wide as he entered the noisy battle. Thal pushed his bloody knives back into his boots, and hollered for the musket. The young man tossed it to him and Th
al caught it by the stock. The jarring force of the throw set off the gun. It fired and the ball burst into the leafy ground beside a struggling dog.
Appalled by the error, Thal jumped back from the murderous boar, clutching the gun like a club.
Patercek ran up. His hat flew off. Markus handed him his favorite musket and he aimed. Despite the blood streaming from multiple wounds, the boar still battled with unflagging ferocity. The dogs held on fearlessly, flopping in every direction as the boar spun and kicked.
“God damn it, I’ll hit my dogs!” Patercek yelled and lowered his musket. “A spear!”
A servant dashed to his side and gave him a spear. Armed anew, Patercek waded in toward the boar. With a supreme effort the huge boar shook off one dog and lunged toward Patercek. Thal cracked it across the skull with his musket. The beast turned aside and Patercek seized his chance. He stepped forward and thrust his spear into the animal just behind its left shoulder. The deep wound finally made it drop.
Pistol yipped triumphantly from the periphery while the big dogs tugged and shook the dying boar. Gasping for air, Patercek put his hands on his hips. He laughed and everyone else cheered except for Thal who stared at the dogs with their teeth clamped into coarse hide. He was hot from primitive pleasure rushing through his thudding blood. This hunt had been dangerous and the thrill of success was ecstatic.
“What a hunt!” Patercek cried and slapped his new huntsman on the back.
Thal wheeled on him, having nearly forgotten that men even existed. Patercek stepped back, startled by the sparkling intensity in Thal’s eyes.
Shaking his head, Thal forced back the pulsing joy of the kill that made him want to feast on raw flesh while others waited their due.
“Excellent kill,” he praised quietly.
“Just a formality. That blow to his head took the fight out of him I believe,” Patercek said.
Thal looked at the musket in his hand. He had cracked the wood loose from the metal barrel. “I’m so sorry,” he said.
Patercek was mostly impressed by the evidence of Thal’s strength. “No matter. Now I can justify buying a new one,” he said and pulled Thal close for a hug. “Now let’s get this beast back to the kitchen. We’ll have a fine story to tell my guests won’t we?”
Patercek let him go and kneeled beside the boar. Its bulky body promised to provide a fine feast. He ran a gloved hand across its hairy back and then pulled out his bloody spear. He dabbed his fingers on the blood and then smeared some on Thal’s forehead.
The energy of the brother beast tingled against Thal’s skin. His cares and concerns slipped away for an instant and he was at peace.
“How did you know where to find the boar?” Patercek asked.
“I told my Lord I was skilled hunter,” Thal reminded.
“But honestly, tell me your method. I’ve been living with this crazy beast and couldn’t sneak up on him,” Patercek said.
“If I gave up my secrets there would not be much call for my help,” Thal said.
“Oh please,” Patercek pestered boyishly.
Thal rubbed his wound while thinking of a response. Finally he divulged, “Just follow the werewolf tracks.”
Patercek was nonplussed until he decided to laugh at the joke.
Chapter 16. The Devil Instead
Augustus Patercek hesitated before signing his name. He moved his hand aside so the quill would not drip on the paper while he paused to think.
On his smooth dark desk already sat the three letters he had written for Carlo, Regis, and Raphael. His coat of arms was neatly pressed into the wax.
He had not intended to write a letter for Thal. Although he had developed a genuine fondness for him, Patercek had also glimpsed deep cold danger beneath the thin ice at Thal’s surface. Should he really send his sister a letter of introduction for a man who freely admitted to killing six men? Since the boar hunt, Patercek had stopped assuming that Thal was boasting about his victory over the bandits. The man had an uncommon ferocity. It was almost casual.
And Patercek did not discount the suspicious looks Thal drew out of his mother. But she had not complained about Thal, not even when Patercek had directly asked her if Thal disturbed her. And Zsazi Patercek was not a woman to hesitate in an accusation.
Ultimately Patercek knew that his sister would just hate him if he did not send this exciting specimen her way. He signed the letter.
Then he added a post script.
“I recommend him to you and your associates as a man of arms and courage.”
Satisfied with his decision, he folded the letter and heated the sealing wax. After pressing in his symbol, he gathered all four letters and slid them into a deep pocket of his loose vest.
His study was in a tower across from his bedchamber. The leaded glass window framed a view of his beloved hunting woods. He looked out at his estate with a fondness that would never fade.
Down in the yard Brutus and Lucky started barking, and he expected that his first guests were arriving. Once he got down to the main level the stimulating aroma of roasting pork caressed him. The meaty smell was wafting through the corridors and into the great hall.
******
Thal was very impressed with the presentation of the roast boar. Herbs sprinkled its crispy brown skin. A bundle of dried fruits was dripping from its mouth. Roasted baby carrots and turnips were piled along the flanks of the great animal. Its meaty bulk was spread out on a pile of sausages that had cooked inside it.
Six men carried out the boar on a monstrous platter that was set down on a table equipped with many plates, knives, and rolls of bread. The guests exclaimed happily at the presentation of the main course. The double doors to the castle yard were open and the crowd of serfs banqueting on outdoor tables cheered as the meat course came forth. They would be last in line for the boar, and many would not get any, but there were other tables of roast ducks and pheasants and fish. Wheels of cheese were carved into countless slices and four kegs of beer were going to keep the common folk happy for a while.
Thal returned to the seat he had been given at one of the indoor banquet tables. He had been placed among some small landholders and local tradesmen. Although he had nothing in common with them, his mysterious differences made him a focus of interest. Men and women asked questions about the musicians or they wanted to hear his account of the boar hunt. Everyone seemed to think that he had killed the same boar that was tearing into their own fields.
The servants carved into the boar and served first the prestigious guests gathered at Patercek’s long table. Thal observed these guests that included the local parish priest. He was given a seat of honor next to Lady Zsazi. Judging from her expression, Thal believed she was quite bored with her dinner partner, who looked like he got invited to many banquets.
Imported fabrics with intricate designs and many more buttons than were necessary clothed the wealthy guests. Lovely headdresses with felt trim or beaded headbands adorned the women. The tops of their bosoms bulged invitingly from their bodices. Glass beads and cut crystals were strung around their necks. Artfully arranged sprigs of flowers were clipped to their shoulders or tied to their wrists. As Thal watched them, he noted how they eyed each other competitively and vied for attention.
Patercek stood up and the crowd quieted. He raised his chalice. It was an ancient silver cup with garnets set around it.
“Welcome! Welcome!” he cried as servants continued to deliver food and pour drink. His hefty voice filled the room. “I am so heartened to be surrounded by my affectionate community.”
People clapped and cheered.
Patercek continued, “I thank you for coming on such short notice. Before I reveal my reason for inviting you here, I want to express my special gratitude to my guest, Thal. He’s an extraordinary huntsman and we have him to thank for tracking and cornering the wily boar that now graces our plates.”
Thal received applause as well. Skill as a hunter seemed to be universally appreciated. He stood up and
dipped his head in every direction as he had seen the musicians do on many occasions. Then he bowed to Patercek before returning to his seat.
“And now for my surprise,” Patercek said. A few guests giggled before he went on. “Yes, I’m sure the rumor mill has been grinding and many know what I’ve been hiding. But I’ll keep them to myself no longer. I am hosting a trio of talented musicians from Venice. I do hope you enjoy them. Come out Carlo, Regis, and Raphael!”
The musicians emerged onto a staircase. Carlo’s zink serenaded the crowd with a splendid tune new to people’s ears. Raphael strummed a rhythm on his lute while taking care not to stumble on the steps. Regis was first in line and he led them to their chairs in the center of the banquet tables. He set his harp on his chair and bowed to the audience.
“Thank you. Thank you,” he said as the clapping subsided. Always nervous before a performance, he absorbed the energy and let it consume his fear. He need only give a few notes and then the bliss of performance would take him the rest of the way.
“My colleagues and I are very appreciate of the opportunity to perform here at Castle Patercek,” Regis said.
“Almost,” Thal whispered to himself. He had been coaching Regis on his opening line because his friend had wanted to speak Czech perfectly.
No one else minded the little linguistic error. It added to their exotic appeal.
Without another word, Regis seated himself at his harp and made his last adjustments to his tuning. Then Carlo resumed his zink playing, and the lute and harp joined in the music. It was a lovely yet gentle tune that pleased people but let them return their attention to their arriving food.
“Why doesn’t he sing?” asked a woman sitting across the table from Thal. She looked rather miffed. “He’s supposed to have a lovely voice.”
“He does,” Thal said.
When he spoke, he instantly drew the attention of his table companions.
Thal explained, “Regis does not like to sing when people are eating. He does not want your attention divided.”