Mordon was about ready to strangle this man, “Where are Nolton’s quarters in the house?”
“Why, the top floor, all the way in the back. On the left of the big statue of the woman.”
Mordon saw the man’s thoughts wander once again.
“Women . . . most are as hard as the stone of that statue. Ah man knows how to please another man.”
Mordon whipped out his right hand and slapped Darcy across the face. The blow must have been a lot harder than he intended. Darcy’s head snapped to the side, and slumped flaccidly onto the wooden step. His breathing stopped just as suddenly. A wave of guilt swept through the kneeling Mordon. Attacking defenseless men had never occurred to him before. He had not intended to kill Darcy, but it was easier than carrying him all the way to Canter Street.
You need to control that temper of yours, Mordon whispered to himself.
CHAPTER 8
She did not come to him in the evening light, or when the night sky turned to star covered black. Mordon had cleaned himself thoroughly after disposing of the bodies over the parapet. They would keep the farmer company in the street. He had slept soundly behind his bared high door feeling quite safe. Mordon had waited, half expecting another visit from the woman. When she did not come, he prepared for a sortie to the north.
Mordon knew the area of the north of Widley, as he had patrolled the streets and alleyways of that section many times. The wealthy had demanded their freedom from the riffraff and turmoil of the commoner areas, and got it.
The surviving homes of the rich must have had walls as thick as the outer wall of the castle. There were at least four surviving structures to the north that he could see from the roof of the castle. It was in one of these that Nolton had taken refuge. Darcy had mentioned the top of the tower was no longer visible. The debris from its collapse must not have filled in the lower section. If Nolton and Darcy had been able to traverse the tunnel’s entire length, it must still be in good repair.
Mordon filled a knapsack with a few candles and materials to light them. He took two containers of water from the cistern and stowed them in the sack. Mordon wrapped enough food to last a day or two and stuffed the bundle in as well. Slinging the sack of goods over his shoulder, he ascended the stairs to the top platform and pushed open the heavy door.
The early night was still warm, warmer than it was inside the tower. He had taken the time to find a dark brown cloak in the pile of clothing he had in the tower. It was not as lengthy as the grey one he had worn, but adequate for concealment and added warmth, and hopefully an improvement from his mistaken choice last night. The cloak was rolled up in the sack for now.
The only sound he could detect was the soft scuffing of his boots on the wood planking of the causeway. He traversed the roof of the east wing, and threw his sack up and over the higher wall. It was but a moment to climb and stand on the higher roof. Picking up the sack, Mordon strode to the ridge and walked the planking to the open archway of the wraith’s tower where he descended without pause.
Mordon halted briefly at the entry into the woman’s chamber and spoke softly, “I journey to the north this night. I had visitors from an old friend, no need to worry, they will not be coming back to bother us.” There was no response. He hesitated, wishing her voice would come from the darkness, but it did not. With a small shrug of his shoulders, Mordon continued down the spiral stairs until coming out on the level of bedroom chambers.
This time he strode to the open arches of the broken windows and looked out to the north. There were still remnants of the leaded glass clinging to the frame that had held the glass in place. The shattered sections of colorful glass still littered the narrow alley between the outer wall and the castle’s northern wall.
Mordon could just see over the battlements of the outer wall. There was not much to note, the city was blocked from view by the outer wall. Beyond in the distance, the starlight made the green hillsides of the broadleaf trees appear slightly lighter than the black sky. They were beginning to draw Mordon with an intensity he had never known. The city had been his life, but now those dark hillsides were clutching at his heart and senses. Out there had to be better than the dust and crumbled stone of the city. Now he had discovered the maps there was nothing but the woman keeping him here.
The woman . . . she might kill him yet, whether she wanted to or not. It was a dangerous game they played.
Mordon turned and made his way to the top of the stairs leading down to the foyer. A rustle of wings overhead caused him to look up at the ceiling. One of the great horned owls was beginning its struggle to awaken from its lethargy of the day’s sleep. The beam on which it rested was one of 12 radiating out from the central perpendicular column supporting the peak of the foyer ceiling, still far above Mordon’s head.
Within a few minutes, Mordon made his way through the kitchens and storage rooms to the rear entrance. The door opened to a narrow stoop that was at the same height as most of the horse drawn wagons bringing supplies to the kitchen and the castle. To the right lay all the broken glass that once adorned the large windows above. Broken chairs and small tables added to the heap of debris covering the narrow span of the back alley of the castle.
Mordon moved down the few steps of the stoop to the flagging of the alley.
To Mordon’s right, the alley continued at the same width all the way around to the second smaller gate in the outer wall. Those gates were still out of sight from where he stood. They were just large enough to emit the horse drawn wagons. For some reason, the invaders had not touched those gates. Not requiring any stealth in the confining alley, Mordon turned east toward the wagon gate. Much to his chagrin he had to step amongst the piles of broken glass. The crunch beneath his booted feet made him grit his teeth. Every piece he broke felt like he was assisting in the destruction of something he had spent so many years trying to protect. Crossing the colorful debris took only long seconds but he was relieved to step back onto the solid flagging.
Mordon came to the low inner wall of the castle’s garden. He stopped long enough to peer through the archway leading into the garden’s interior. The broken gate hung by one hinge. What he could see was a mass of tall grass mixed with broken shrubbery. Even in the darkness, his keen eyes noticed a hoe leaning against the far stone wall of the castle. He stepped through the archway and followed the path around to the right.
The garden had been beautiful to the eyes of a young child. He had spent enough time here caring for the flowers, and pulling up whatever the old gardener told him to weed. Between caring for the horses, working in this garden, and practicing along with the soldiers, his time as a youth had been filled. Now this garden was just a hodgepodge of weeds and memories.
Mordon continued along the path in the darkness, the hoe intrigued him. The stars were his only light. When he neared the hoe, he could plainly see the effort someone was taking to clear a small area. In a space no larger than the king’s table, the tall grass had been completely removed; the soil dug and tilled so the rich dirt was the only thing left. Whoever had cleared the area had planted a row of flowers along the flagging of the path. He could not tell what color the flowers were in the darkness, but just them being here brought back good memories.
He noticed the tip of a rib sticking up from the dark soil, just at the edge of tangled grasses and rich loam. So, this was where all the bones had been placed. It was a grave for all the souls who had perished two years ago.
The only person who could have done this was the woman. He didn’t even know her name. Why was it so important to her to keep her name from him? If she had been a child of one of the castle servants, it might explain why she had cleaned the interior of the castle. But for the life of him he could not remember any of their names. True, his time had been filled mostly outside the castle, but he had seen children other than the king’s helping in the kitchens and carrying bedding. There was only one girl he rem
embered with straw colored hair, she was the daughter of one of the maids. Her father had been the castle’s blacksmith. There was not much else he could remember about her, only that she had been pudgy.
Mordon kneeled and gently touched the petals of a flower that looked grey in the starlit garden. The woman must need this garden as an ointment for her life. Sadness crept into his soul like the vines clinging to the stone walls behind him. There must be a way out for them both other than death.
With a low curse, he stood and walked back in the direction he had come. Nolton . . . Nolton first, and then find a way to alleviate the curse of the woman’s life. He was not so naïve he did not realize any attempt at aiding the woman would be anything other than dangerous. “One thing at a time,” he whispered. He strode with purpose through the archway in the garden wall and turned right.
A hundred feet from the end of the castle garden, there was an opening at the base of the outer wall. The narrow opening entered the outer wall at one point, and veered sharply to the left within the wall. Beyond where it veered, a narrow alley continued the distance through the stonework only to veer in the opposite direction on the other side. The opposite portal exited the outer wall into the wide promenade surrounding the castle.
Mordon watched from the exit for only a few seconds. Here on the north side of the castle if someone was watching, it would probably be from Nolton’s crew. Through his hatred of Nolton he still could feel relief, knowing Nolton had not specifically sent Darcy and Farly looking for him. It would be unlikely Nolton would know he was even alive. The two he had dispatched may have been the only ones Nolton trusted to peruse the city in hopes of finding food. Mordon didn’t know whether to feel insulted or gratified there had been only Darcy and the heavily built Farly. It did not matter to Mordon how many men had found his encampment, the result would have been the same.
Ivy Street ran directly away from the opening where Mordon stood. The beginning of Canter Street was a block down on Mordon’s left. Both streets began radiating out as the other main thoroughfares, but then bent back to parallel several blocks out from where he stood. The wealthy wanted evenly spaced property so no one held more than the other. He could take Ivy and come up to the house with the broken tower from the east. If he could find a way into the tower house through its outer wall, it would be easy to enter from the rear; keeping completely from view of Nolton’s building.
Mordon almost took a step into the promenade when he heard voices coming from his right. He could not see anyone in the darkness, but their footfalls indicated they were coming his way. The voices came from two men who were quietly arguing.
“Geesus, why do we have to come over here, ain’t Donderly good nough for you anymore?”
“Me lad, we need to broaden our horizons . . . see the rest of the city . . . we been cooped up in the tunnels far too long. Wouldn’t it be nice to just leave this place and try our luck in the forests? I bet you know a lot about living in the woods.”
“Fool . . . I came from the farmland and the forest. Ain’t noth’n there left to live on but squirrels and rabbits.”
Mordon smiled and stepped out of the opening onto the promenade, “What are you two doing over here? Isn’t the south big enough for you anymore?” Mordon almost laughed out right at the reaction he caused. Simper jumped back and drew his sword at the same time, standing in a slight crouch. Drake whirled something from his right hand. Whatever it was released in his direction. Something small collided with his breastplate with a thud. “Damn it, Drake, I’m a friend.” Drake stood up straight in surprise and voiced an apology.
“That you, Mordon? Damn, I be sorry as hell. I could’a put your eye out, lucky I missed.”
Mordon rubbed the spot where the stone had connected. The last words spoken by Drake didn’t convince him Drake felt contrite in the least. “Simper, you better keep better control of your man, he is libel to get in trouble.” Mordon stood, still rubbing where he had been hit, and watched the two men approach him. Even in the darkness, he could ascertain Drake was none too sorry for the stone in his chest. It did not matter, other than being bruised for a while. The two came within a few feet and stopped. “I ask again, what are you two doing over here? Nolton controls this part of the city.” The starlight lit their faces enough that he could see neither of them were very happy. Simper slid his sword back into its sheath.
“Dang it boy, Nolton sent four of his men to the south and took what food we had hidden in the tunnels.”
Mordon asked, “Where were you when this was happening, and how do you know it was Nolton’s men?” Simper completely ignored his first question.
“He’s the only one who knows the tunnels. And you look healthy enough not to be worrying about food. It had to have been him who sent the rats that cleaned us out.”
Mordon considered Simper’s reasoning, and felt the man was reasonably accurate in his assessment. They must already be hungry to go up against Nolton. What should he do, tell them how to get into the tower? If they went and stayed there, what of the woman? Mordon did not want to return and find their corpses in his home. He decided to take them with him, it presented the most sensible tactical answer. “Nolton is out of food. Two of his men stumbled onto my bivouac.” Simper would have no way of knowing the two he had killed had spotted him leaving the castle. Mordon did not want to explain it had been him who had been too impetuous in his movements. The soldier in Simper would chide him for his stupidity. Their conversation may end with them going their separate ways. Which would only lead to more problems if the wraith found them sneaking about at night. How could something seem right and yet feel wrong? “Let’s join forces. We can clean out Nolton and his crew. You can get what food is left back.” Mordon hesitated before adding, “I can get rid of something I have been carrying for far too many years.”
Mordon could see in the starlight Drake did not understand part of what he had conveyed. Simper, on the other hand, knew about Nolton and how he had treated the young Mordon. Simper’s head bowed in acknowledgment of the one thing he and Wicliff had been unable to protect young Mordon from. Mordon felt no recrimination against either Simper or Wicliff. They had done their best to protect him, but they could not constantly watch him or Nolton. Simper stepped forward and placed a strong callused hand on his shoulder.
“Boy, it still twists my gut about what happened. If I had a chance, I’d ah shoved my sword in his guts just like Wicliff wanted to do.”
Mordon touched the man’s hand briefly, “I know Simper. This is something that has been coming for a long time.” Drake was more than a little confused. His right hand was rubbing the back of his neck.
“What the hell you two talk’n about”
Mordon then saw the eyes of the cynical old man open in understanding.
“Geesus Mordon, let’s slice the son of a bitch into little pieces.”
Mordon had to smile at Drake. Here was a man he was beginning to like. It was easy to understand why Simper liked him. He might be old and tactless, but was capable of understanding and made quick judgment on any afoul of plain decency. His childhood abuse seemed as repugnant to this old man as it was to Simper. “I was just headed to Nolton’s fortress. One of the men on his crew was polite enough to tell me of a tunnel from one house to his.” Even in the darkness, Mordon could see the questions on their faces. “It was one of the two Nolton sent out who stumbled on my home. The fellow decided my help was necessary to get him back to Nolton. It did not work out the way he had planned.” Simper spoke up with anger being compiled by Mordon’s revelation.
“That bastard has lived long enough. The three of us should be able to come up with a plan to roust the bugger from his den.”
Mordon explained more thoroughly about the tunnel, and his tentative plan of approach. They started walking up Ivy as Mordon and the two older men devised a plan. Mordon dug out the salted meat in his packet, and shared what he
had with the others. By the time they reached the cross street of the house they wanted, they had arrived at a plausible plan of action. Drake was to go to the front of Nolton’s compound and hide. He was to wait what he guessed to be an hour, and make as much noise as he could with whatever was available in the street to draw their attention. Simper and Mordon would find the tunnel and come up inside their house and find Nolton. Anyone getting in their way . . . two well-trained soldiers should be able to handle those in the house.
In the starlight, the four massive outer walls of the fortified homes looked identical. Moving delicately, the stalking men only needed to find the two homes fronting Canter. They had to climb the ruins of a nearby structure to correctly identify the house with the fallen tower; only one had a corner silhouette askew. When the three men finally found the rear gateway, it was completely covered by the fallen stone of the house across the narrow alley. Drake watched as the two soldiers searched the rubble in the darkness until finding a sturdy oak beam they could lean above the blocked gate. They shoved the base of the beam into the rubble; wedging it into the fallen stone. The beam’s surface was rough enough to aid their climb to the top of the solid edifice.
As soon as Mordon’s head lifted above the edge of the wall, he could see it was nearly 10 feet thick, no wonder these structures survived the barrage. There were no battlements, just a wide expanse of weathered flat stone. The wealthy owners must have thought a wall was all they would ever need. The builder of the three remaining houses must have been the same individual, one consumed with fear of just such an unrelenting attack as they had undergone. The catapult capable of throwing stones big enough to destroy such thick walls would be immense.
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