“Then do as you are commanded.” she pleaded. “Do it for us.”
“You are asking me to take the life of a child.”
“No, I am asking you to obey your King and they will kill the child anyway. You know this.”
“You are right,” said Agamemnon. “But it will not be from my blade and my conscience will be clear.”
“What has happened to you?” she whispered with a shake of her head.
“I stood for something once. There is a part of me what wants to find that again.”
“When they find out you have gone they will hunt you down.”
“They will.” replied Agamemnon nodding his head grimly.
“They will take me and question me.”
“Then tell them everything.” said the swordsman scooping up his scabbarded sword-sword from the ground.
Turning he walked over to the door then stopped in his tracks and looked back at Giliane giving her one last lingering look.
“There is a secret compartment within the chest. Inside there is a purse of coin. Take it.”
“I know,” she said smiling. “Just like I know you have a second pouch in your left boot.”
He grinned but the smile faded quickly.
“I care for you.”
Without another word Agamemnon strode from the room walking through the small entrance hall before stepping out onto the paved stone courtyard of the inner bailey. The full moon hung low in a black sky, reflecting brightly against stone flags and he quickly glanced in both directions. His eyes ran over defensive curtain wall which surrounded the castle and was connected to the four square towers encircled by parapets at each corner. It was thirty five feet high and over ten feet thick and high up top crossbowmen and archers patrolled their perimeter along the wall walkways. Towering over him stood the five-storey circular stone keep and next to it was the kitchen which also accommodated the domestic servants and then the chapel which was used every morning for mass. A little further on was the water well, built to supply drinking water to the castle then there was the main room of the castle, the Great hall where the King received visitors and hosted huge banquets. Situated on the upper storey floor was the private sleeping quarters of the King and at the opposite end the south-facing Solar where the King’s daughter slept. Then there were a few wooden outbuildings with smoke pouring through holes in the roofs, followed by the noisy stables used to house the castle livestock and horses. Finally there was the manned gatehouse with its heavy spiked portcullis which was built into the curtain wall. Two guards were talking at the gatehouse of the castle and he recognised them both and one of them waved a greeting to him as they saw him. Agamemnon walked with long steps across the courtyard towards the stables. He glanced up briefly at the narrow vertical slits cut into the curtain wall then fixed his gaze back on the stables and was welcomed by the familiar smell of leather and horse manure which hung pungent in the air as he entered.
A young bleary eyed stable boy was sat inside slouched lazily on a bale of hay. When he saw Agamemnon he slid off the bale hurriedly, straightened and snapped to attention with his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.
“Boy, have my horse saddled and ready.” ordered Agamemnon reaching into the inside pocked of his clock and flipping him a coin.
The stable boy reached up and snatched it out of the air, grinning broadly.
“Yes, my Lord Agamemnon.” he said.
“Fetch me a large saddlecloth also.”
“At once, my Lord Agamemnon.” answered the stable boy bowing his head and disappearing out of sight.
Chapter Six
Pirash
The home of Tomas the Collector
Tomas the Collector was a very happy man. He was happy because he was rich and wealth brought him happiness. The only thing that made Tomas happier in life was extra wealth because that brought with it extra happiness. But it hadn’t always been like that. There was a time when he had been poor and suffering with little coin to buy food or clothing and work was hard to come by. Eight years ago Tomas had decided to move from the Capital and journey east to Pirash seeking his next source of employment. Carrying nothing but the tools of his profession and an enviable reputation as one of the finest Stonemasons around, he found himself in a strange land of unforgiving jutting peaks and cones which were as receptive as the cold, unwelcoming eyes of the inhabitants that lived there. Full of boast Tomas spread the word of his skill and bragged, gloated and crowed his talents to anyone that would lend him their ear but any initial interest in his ability had been brutally short-lived and he was shunned from the Pirashian guilds. Without an association to belong to Tomas could find no work as the guild would look after its own tradesmen first and soon the land of opportunity became a land of despair and he found himself alone on the fringe of society. It didn’t matter that his work was carried out to an exceptionally high standard, on time and on budget or that he had worked on some of the finest buildings in the Capital, venerated by the late King Ethelred himself. No-one was interested in employing a loud-mouthed foreign worker from the North.
“Go back home!” they sneered. “Go back to where you belong. We don’t need your services here. Our stonecutters are far superior!”
In truth, Tomas even believed the God’s were conspiring against him such was his luck during that period. Then one day, a stroke of unexpected fortune changed his life forever. To scrape by he had taken to carving small stone statuettes and figurines made from soft material like limestone and soaprock and selling them on a little stall every week in the town marketplace. Market-day was always a very busy day so Tomas had risen at the break of dawn, loaded his wares on a little wooden cart pulled by an old lop eared sway-backed donkey and made the short journey to town.
As always he paid his entry fee at the gatehouse for a place on the square and then waited the obligatory two hours before he was allowed to enter the market to protect the interests of the local traders. It was no coincidence that Tomas couldn’t get a favorable spot in the market and found his stall wedged in between traders selling tanned hides and pewter ware. He had already lost a few hours of the morning activity so hurriedly set up his stall with his stone figurines and tried to grab the passers-byes and convince them to purchase his goods. As afternoon approached the market was bustling but Tomas hadn’t sold a single statuette and the volume of peasants that stopped and stared curiously at his wares had reduced to just the occasional fleeting glance. Then there was a chance happening that changed everything. A tall brown-eyed man with short cropped dark hair and a black trident beard giving him an almost sardonic appearance walked through the throng and stopped at his stall examining his merchandise carefully. The man wore a simple brown woolen tunic, belted at the waist that had been embroidered around the hem and sleeves with silver and fine leather sandals.
“Greeting,” said Tomas flashing a winning smile but couldn’t hide the hint of desperation in his voice. “Anything please the eye?”
“These figurines were carved from limestone and soaprock, were they not?” asked the man in a softly spoken voice as he turned over a sculpture in his calloused hand.
“You have an eye for stone and yes you are correct.”
“Quite remarkable workmanship.” muttered the man nodding his head in appreciation.
“To others rocks are seen as ugly and useless but to me they are pieces of art just waiting to be worked.”
“Quite splendid indeed,” said the man peering closely at one statue of a rearing horse on its hind legs. “I see such intricate carvings on display. You have the skill of an artist that much is true.”
“It is all that I know.” admitted Tomas basking in the praise.
Suddenly Tomas looked closely at the man’s face, trying to remember where he had seen the man before then recognition hit him.
“You are from the Merchant guilds.” stated Tomas, his expression hardening.
“I am indeed,” he replied. “And you are the man from the north
trying to carve his name in the east.”
“The Pirashian’s mock my work and will not accept me!” snapped Tomas in irritation.
“The Stonemasons of Pirash are highly respected craftsmen and strongly defend their trade and territory. To them you are nothing more than a journeyman who has not earned their respect.”
“I am a Master Mason and fully educated in my trade.” said Tomas proudly.
The man nodded his head once again, casting his gaze over the stall then stared hard at Tomas.
“You travelled far to find work and I can see that you use the chisel and mallet like no other. Submit a master work piece to the guild and we will evaluate it. If we are satisfied then you will be admitted as a Master.”
Tomas was speechless and nodded his head dumbly.
“My name is Cedric.”
“My…my name is Tomas and I will do as you say. Thank you for the opportunity.”
Cedric turned on his heel and walked away with his hands clasped behind his back and Tomas watched him leave until he was gone from view. Then without hesitation he packed up his merchandise and headed back home to his little ramshackle workshop in the village. Over the next couple of days he carved out the most perfect figurine of a woman from a single piece of stone. It was a piece of exquisite beauty and Tomas considered it his best work to date and quite possibly the most important. The guild wardens evaluated his work and he was rewarded with a place in the confraternities of tradesmen.
Over the new few years his reputation soared and he became the most sought after Stonemason in the whole of Pirash and earned a wealthy prosperous living.
When his riches allowed it Tomas decided he wanted to build a great house in the mountains surrounded by nothing but the very rock which had transformed his life. But he didn’t want to build just a normal house; he wanted something more impressive than even the most important noblemen or Lords as a sign of his wealth. He wanted to flaunt his affluence with paved floors and hanging tapestries with coloured glass in the windows made by the finest glassmaker’s guild in the land. Tomas wanted a huge kitchen that would be warmed by a log fire and a high vaulted roof. It had to be big, extravagant and only of the highest quality and nothing else would do.
He hired a team of workers and for over a year they excavated a huge hole in the side of a mountain that he had chosen to house his new home. They erected scaffold to the walls and anchored in frames of wood into the recess to support the pressure from the rock on either side and built the house then cut a winding path into the side of the mountain. His home was incredibly private and secure but it was fancier than most of the homes owned by the Lords and noblemen around Pirash. His home represented his wealth and Tomas couldn’t have been happier.
But then an unlikely road of opportunity opened up for him and a different profession entirely. One day Tomas opened his door to an elderly man who had been brutally beaten by thieves. His lower lip was split, both eyes were blackened and his cheeks bruised on one side from which looked like the heel mark of someone’s boot. In his arms he clutched a casket of jewels which he thrust out to Tomas with pleading and desperation in his eyes.
“I..I am terrified for my life,” gasped the frail old man. “Take these. They have searched my house, took what money they could find but they will come back for these. They are priceless. Hide my valuables in a place of safety and I will pay you for their safe-keeping.”
So Tomas had done as the man had asked and a new idea had formed of how to make more money quickly and boost his wealth further still. He spent several months building a huge stone vault deep into the rock at the rear of his house. Surrounded by solid rock on both sides the vault was impenetrable and Tomas hired armed guards and fashioned a huge key that he wore around his neck. So began his new profession. He stored customer’s valuables at a cost and his customers trusted him and his reputation. They called him Tomas the Collector but in truth he was more of a temporary hoarder. In exchange for money customers could keep their treasured pieces safe and they could rent this in total anonymity. Soon he had one of the largest collections of important artefacts, documents, antiquities, seals, fine art and valuables in the land under one roof.
Tomas never questioned the inventory he took in, never queried its origin or ownership and treated all his customers with the upmost secrecy and they could turn up when they wanted to gain access to their designated security boxes. He did however; make any guild members wait the obligatory two hours before they were allowed to see him. That memory still grated on him unpleasantly and he instructed his errand boy, Geffray, to identify those that should see him immediately and those that should wait to be seen. Geffray did so quite aptly and had a natural eye for spotting guild members. Today was not one of those days.
“Master.” yelled Geffray.
Startled, Tomas had looked up from his table he was sat at, his hand poised with an ink quill over a parchment.
“Geffray, what have we said about shouting in loud voices?” said Tomas with a sigh. “We can't let that kind of thing happen here.”
“Sorry Master, but two men request to see you.”
“Guild members?” asked Tomas raising his eyebrows questioningly.
“I am sure of it, Master.” answered the young boy nodding his head frantically.
“It is late but very well.” said Tomas turning the sand clock over on his desk and starting the countdown.
He looked back down at the parchment and scribbled something with his ink quill then glanced up at his servant who was staring back at him.
“That will be all for now, Geffray.”
Nodding his head the boy scuttled off and left Tomas to continue his work whilst his customers waited. Barely an hour had passed when Geffray had slunk back into the room; his shoulders slumped and freckled face looking like it had been scolded.
“Yes?” muttered Tomas without looking up at him.
“Master,” mumbled Geffray fidgeting from foot-to-foot nervously. “The men ask how soon you could see them.”
Tomas had rubbed his gritty eyes and stared at the sand clock with a furrowed brow.
“Geffray, what is this time device I have on my table?”
“It’s a sand clock, Master.”
“And what does a sand clock do, Geffray?”
“It uhm…measures the passage of time, Master.”
“Excellent, Geffray, excellent. Now if you stare at the top bulb you will note that it is nearly empty. Watch closely at the rate of flow from the sand as it trickles down the thin neck into the bottom bulb at the base. Once the top bulb is empty it signifies that an hour has passed so I will invert it and start the clock again until the two hours is up. Go back to my customers and tell them I will see them soon.”
Glumly the servant nodded his head and sloped off miserably from the room but then returned a few minutes later looking red-faced and agitated.
“What now, Geffray?” murmured Tomas still with his head in the parchment.
“Master, Lord Montagu has other pressing engagements and asks that you see him now.”
Tomas suddenly blanched and the quill pen fell from his fingers.
“Who did you say?” he gasped.
“He said he was Lord Montagu.” replied Geffray scratching his head nonplussed.
“You said they were guild members!”
“Did I?”
“Yes, yes you did, Geffray,” cried Tomas surging to his feet and beginning to pace up and down the room frantically. “Lord Montagu is one of our privileged customers.”
“We have privileged customers, Master?”
“Of course you imbecile,” snapped Tomas. “The ones that pay me more get the preferential service. Bring them in quickly and get the cushions, the fancy ones and bring the wine.”
Geffray turned and fled from the room but not before Tomas had shouted out after him.
“The best wine!”
A few minutes later Magdalenian was led into the room by Geffray followed by a tall
, thin man with a cleft chin whose face was set in an angry scowl showing his open hostility. Both men wore fine riding breeches and long expensive riding boots coming up over the knee, tailored shirts, travelling cloaks and deerskin riding gloves.
“May I present to you Tomas the Collector, The Guardian of the valuables, Lord of Cliff-Side house and….,”
“Enough of that nonsense, Geffray,” blurted Tomas waving his hand dismissively and looking embarrassed. “Welcome Lord Montagu. You honour me with your presence.”
“This is Lord Tyrion.” said Magdalenian curtly.
Tomas bowed then strode forward and offered his calloused rough hand for him to shake but the man just stared down at it with a grimace.
“Who is this wretched little man that deprives me of my time then offers me his hand?” asked Hephaestus.
Tomas licked his lips nervously and looked at his hand hovering in the air then snatched it back.
“I do apologise for the delay, my Lords. I’m so terribly sorry and would want to assure you that this is nothing more than an unfortunate misunderstanding on behalf of my halfwit servant boy.”
Magdalenian turned his piercing blue stare to the table and stared at the sand clock before looking back at Tomas.
“Geffray, where is the wine and fancy cushions?” asked Tomas through gritted teeth.
“We will not be stopping any longer than necessary.” said Magdalenian.
Tomas dismissed the boy with a flick of his wrist and attempted to maintain an air of professionalism.
“This man is an idiot!” snapped Hephaestus turning to his friend. “You actually pay him to hold Goru?”
“His integrity is unquestionable; however his functions as a host are, shall we say, less desirable.”
“Goru? What’s Goru?” questioned Tomas looking mystified.
Four Gods Page 6