by B. K. Parent
With the horses checked, we took the path out of the pasture across the fields to the stable gates and then walked up towards the gate into town. Beezle led us to a small narrow pub built into the wall surrounding the keep. The sign hanging above the door stated we were welcome to enter the Dirty Duck. I wondered what the story was behind the name. Before I could ask, Beezle explained.
“The pub used to be called the White Swan. Due to a trick of the wind coming up the lane between the buildings, all of the soot and dust coming from the smoke of cooking and heating fires and all of the dirt swirling up the lane hit the sign day after day, causing the white of the swan to get dingy quite quickly. The previous owner would faithfully repaint the sign month after month to no avail. The new owner thought that was just plain silly, and a waste of effort, so he gave in to what the locals called the place anyway. Now the pub is officially the Dirty Duck. Don’t let the name put you off, for it is a nice place and serves decent food.”
Beezle was right on both counts. A clean place and Todd Barshkey, the owner, made a mean meat and barley stew. The interior of the pub was made of rough-hewn beams with plaster walls. The floor was of native slate, and the furniture was sturdy if mismatched. A warm fire was blazing in the fireplace. We were seated in the far back corner of the pub, under the stairs, and had just finished our meal when the owner came over and set four tankards in front of us.
“A bit of hot cider to warm your innards on this cool night. You folks just settle in now,” he said with a wink, and I wondered what that was about.
I was a bit concerned that drinking what I thought would be fermented cider and growing muzzy headed was not going to be a good idea, but one sip assured me that the cider was just plain old cider. We drank our ciders in relative quiet for awhile. The pub had pretty much emptied out from the dinner crowd and had not yet begun to fill up with the gathering of folks who came for a quaff of ale and friendly comradeship.
Beezle leaned toward us and said in a voice just above a whisper, “One at a time, as unobtrusively as possible, slip behind the tapestry behind me. Walk down the narrow passage, and I will follow shortly.”
I suddenly realized that our corner had become darker as we had sipped our ciders, but the dimming of the light had been so gradual, I had not noticed it as it was happening. Beezle must have been turning down the lamp in the wall sconce next to our table as we sat eating and drinking. Master Clarisse, who was closest to the now very dark corner behind Beezle, quietly got up and slipped behind the wall hanging. Soon it was my turn, so I signaled Carz, who had been resting at my feet, and we slipped behind the tapestry. The corridor I entered was made of rough stone and dimly lit. It led through several turns into a small storeroom. As I stood there with Master Clarisse waiting for Evan and Beezle to come, I began to question why Lord Hadrack would trust any of us. Obviously he and Master Rollag must have a history, so perhaps that is why Master Clarisse and Evan had been asked, but why me?
Beezle arrived and indicated we should stay put, holding a finger to his lips and signaling that we should remain quiet. He struck a listening pose. A few very long moments went by before he relaxed slightly. He signaled we should continue to remain quiet and follow him. He led us through a door at the back of the store room and down a short hall, which looked like it ended with a door on the left, but Beezle turned right. He reached into a small alcove that held, of all things, a bronze duck and twisted the duck one quarter turn clockwise and one half turn counterclockwise. A sharp click sounded, and a section of the wall in front of him swung open, revealing a passage so narrow I had to turn sideways to shuffle through it. Ten feet into the passage it took a turn to the right, leaving me in almost pitch darkness. It was several more turns before I could again begin to see the passage I was moving through, and what little I could see suggested that this was a natural fissure in the rock.
The passage widened into a small cave with a high ceiling that led to an opening on the opposite side. As I stood at the opening to the cave, I had a moment of concern, for Master Clarisse had been joined by another who stood in the shadow of the opposite opening. Master Clarisse did not seem concerned, nor did Carz. I was saved from having to make any decision about entering the cave when Evan ran into me from behind with a very quiet but quite distinguishable “oof”. When I had gathered my dignity around me after my awkward stumbling entrance into the cave and looked up, I recognized the figure across the cave as Captain Gwen, the woman who had been in charge of Lord Hadrack’s guards back on the royal road.
Once we had all arrived in the small cave, Captain Gwen motioned us to gather close and spoke in a whisper. “Thank you all for coming. I know Beezle has told you a little, and no one would think less of any of you if you wished to turn back now.” None of us moved or headed back the way we had come. “The dinner meeting, which should be ending shortly, is comprised of Lords and Ladies, guild masters, and wealthy merchants. They will have been discussing new taxes and licenses, the treatment of rovers, and the Crown stepping on the toes of local authorities, not to mention the conspicuous absence of the Princess. When the meetings held in the past have broken up, it has been noted that certain groups gather for further discussions. There is a group of those who clearly side with the Crown, are still quite loyal, and are clearly upset with the current Regent’s decrees. Then there is a second group that is quite obviously here to mouth the Regent’s agenda. However, Lord Hadrack is not particularly interested in hearing a rehash of what they have already said. He is more interested in what a third group is discussing. He suspects that they are all firmly in the Regent’s pocket but do not show that at meetings, or more interesting, may have agendas of their own. He is interested in two things. Who meets with whom and what do they talk about.”
“Uncle has learned that there are several small groups of three or four folks meeting who appear to be unlikely compatriots, and as Captain Gwen said, he is interested in what they find so interesting to talk about,” Beezle said. “Uncle asked if I could find folks I trusted who would listen in and be able to tell him what they heard. I thought the three of you would do nicely. Uncle believes that being forewarned is forearmed.”
I was flattered that Beezle had included me in his circle of those he trusted. Maybe we would learn something this night that would shed some light on what was going on.
“We had best get moving, Beezle. Did you explain where we are going?” asked Captain Gwen.
“Ah, well, no, not yet,” answered Beezle looking somewhat flustered. “I didn’t want to spoil the surprise,” he said with a bit of mischief in his voice. “The hill on which the original keep is built is riddled with natural caves and fissures. Previous keep holders have used some for escape passages when Sommerhjem was much less peaceful. Some of the keep holders have expanded the natural passages to use for water and refuse run off.”
“In other words, we are going to be walking at times in the sewers,” Master Clarisse said.
“Well, to put it bluntly, yes,” answered Beezle.
“So that is why you wanted Carz along. Don’t care much for sewer rats, Beezle?” I asked teasingly. The look on his face and the slight shudder of his body gave me the answer.
“Look at it this way. With Carz along, the rats will take note and find someplace else to play, get to live another day, and we don’t have to get bogged down worrying about them. It is a winning situation for both us and the rats.” What amazed me was that he said this in all seriousness.
With that said, Captain Gwen divided us into two groups. Beezle and I in one, Master Clarisse and Evan in the other.
“We will meet back here in two and a half hours. Listen for the bells. You can’t miss them because for some reason they reverberate in the passages. Some ancestor of yours, Beezle, had a grim sense of humor. Made sure the prisoners in the dungeon knew the passing of the hours and days of their captivity,” Captain Gwen said.
&n
bsp; While we all exited the small cave at the same time, it was not long before the passages branched out. Beezle and I took the second branch on the left.
“We are heading up to the main sewer and will travel that a short distance. Then we’ll take a side passage which will lead us to a narrow stairway that takes us up between the keep walls to the east wing. It would appear that my ancestors were not very trusting folk for the keep is riddled with secret passages and stairways. Fortunately, it is a well-kept secret,” Beezle whispered.
We traveled on for what seemed like a long time, but perhaps was not, always climbing upward. While in the sewers we traveled by torchlight, and it was a good thing that we could not see what rustled and scampered in the shadows. Once we left the sewers, we extinguished the torch. There was a little light coming at regular intervals, enough to see where we were going. Beezle explained that the wall sconces on the other side of the wall were designed to give light into the secret passage we were traversing, but one would be hard pressed to find how that was done from the other side of the stairway we were presently climbing. We moved as quietly as we could, and I hoped our passing could not be heard through the thick keep walls. As we passed by what I imagined were sitting or sleeping rooms in the guest quarters of the keep, I could hear vague murmurs but could not distinguish any words. Finally, Beezle reached back, tapped my shoulder to get my attention, and indicated we should stop.
“Around the next bend, on the other side of the wall, is the sitting room of the Rose Suite where my aunt put Lady Henrietta Green and her companion Lady Amelia Farcroft. Those two have holdings near Crestbury and have been making noises like they are ‘oh so appalled’ about what is happening, but my aunt thinks they protest too much. Lady Farcroft often looks like she is just a silly dithering dowager, but my aunt thinks that is just a role she plays and is concerned that she is more than she seems. We need to move very cautiously and quietly now and see if we can learn anything.”
With as much stealth as we could manage, Beezle, Carz, and I crept down the passage, dodging as many cobwebs as possible, and found a narrow niche in the wall that had several pinpricks of light shining through at about eye height. Beezle had explained that if I were in the Rose Suite and looked at the wall we were behind, all I would see would be a portrait of some long dead relative hanging on the wall. The view through the two holes, which only one of us could look through at a time, gave a very limited view of the room beyond, but the speakers’ voices were very clear.
“Whatever were you thinking Lady Henrietta?” a disgusted and scolding voice admonished. “You may have jeopardized the Regent’s overall plan with your stupid move.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
After Beezle and Nissa had taken the turn to the left, Master Clarisse and Evan followed Captain Gwen. After walking for about five minutes, Captain Gwen indicated they should take a side passage to the right.
“This will take you to a stairway going up the interior walls of the guest wing and will lead you eventually to the Armory Suite. It is so named because it was once the armory. It’s the only part of the old keep that was integrated into the new wing. Some guests request it, as did Lord Crestly this visit. Maybe they feel like warriors of old staying in the old armory. Some say it’s haunted, but not to worry. You two are on the side of the present Lord, so any ghosts would most likely not try to do you in,” Captain Gwen said, with a wink in Evan’s direction.
Evan did not look convinced, but it was not clear if he were not convinced that she was teasing, or if he were not convinced that the ghosts would not harm him.
“At any rate,” Captain Gwen continued, “Lord Hadrack is concerned that Lord Crestly and his entourage may have been responsible for the roadblock and the salting of your homewagons with illegal goods. He would like to know if they have anything else up their sleeves.”
Following Captain Gwen’s directions, the pair soon arrived at the end of the narrow passage and found themselves looking through the eye slits of several helmets mounted to the wall. Inside the room, Lord Crestly and five other members of the nobility were seated in front of the large fireplace and were having what appeared to be a serious discussion. Lord Crestly was flipping a knife with a silver fox head at the end of the handle, over and over in his hand.
“This plan to discredit the rovers has seriously backfired,” Lord Crestly stated. “Instead of becoming scapegoats, they are emerging as an oppressed and harassed group. Rather than the majority of common folk becoming suspicious and blaming them for their troubles, they have rallied around the rovers giving them shelter, seeking out their services, and standing up for their rights. Stories about the roadblock, which was botched no little thanks to that glassmaker journeywoman, along with the raid on the Deaver’s farm, have begun to spread with the help of Lord Hadrack and his group. The Regent made a serious error in judgment when he set the plan in motion to try to control the rovers by trying to harm their reputations.”
“Which was not helped by you when you sent your men to the farm to retrieve your knife, thus scaring off the rovers and ruining a second attempt to catch them with the ‘goods’,” stated another of the men in the room in disgust. “You just couldn’t leave well enough alone.”
“How was I to know there was going to be a raid?” whined Lord Crestly, “and besides, it was my favorite knife. I should never have let that Regent’s agent talk me into lending it to the cause in the first place.”
“Not that I am not enjoying your little quarrel gentlemen, but changing the subject, I am concerned that the Regent is grabbing up so many of the small independent landholdings,” stated Lady Twilliker. “I was aware that he had acquired a few here and there, but when Lord Hadrack showed us the map with all of the holdings he and others were aware had been seized by the Regent’s agents, for one excuse or another, it was shocking to see just how many parcels, scattered all over Sommerhjem, that the Regent has acquired. It is like a slow and steady encroachment on each of our areas. I am becoming concerned that his promises to us are hollow. We had best watch our backs.”
There was a murmur of agreement from the others sitting by the fire.
A third voice entered the conversation. “I agree with Lady Twilliker. I too got pulled into the Regent’s plans with promises of grand rewards, but I do not think I want to do the Regent’s bidding again anytime soon. I am thinking I have been gone from my holdings a bit too long, and perhaps it is time to check out what is happening in my own backyard before I no longer have one. I for one intend to leave tomorrow and head home. I might suggest the same for the rest of you.”
The conversation continued along that vein for several more minutes and then began to break up. Master Clarisse and Evan used the noise made by Lord Crestly’s departing guests to go back down the passage and begin to head back the way they came, when talk from another room caught their attention. They stopped to listen. The room they looked into was shrouded in darkness and from the sounds of it, two men were talking quietly. Neither Master Clarisse nor Evan could see who was talking, and their voices were not distinct enough to identify them.
“Have you heard from the riders you sent to rover Pedersen’s village?”
“Aye, and it was not helpful.”
“Why not?”
“Our agents went first to Pedersen’s house only to find it mostly deserted. No one was there with the exception of this crazy old woman who ranted and raved, and quite frankly made very little sense. Kept talking about how the end was near and they needed to beware and other such drivel. Said she looked like a mad woman with hay and twigs sticking out of her hair, waving her arms and dancing about. They said they did not stay long. Woman gave them the heebie-jeebies.”
“Did they learn anything in the village?”
“Our agents did have a little better luck in the village. Being strangers, and after what had happened less than a fortnight before with Pede
rsen disappearing, neither the farmers nor the fishers would give them the time of day, but they did get some information from the local pub keeper. Said he seemed like a friendly sort who was more than willing to give the local gossip for the purchase of a pint or two.”
“What did he have to say?”
“Told our agents that the day Pedersen disappeared several small ships were seen leaving the cove.”
“Did this pub keeper think Pedersen left by boat?”
“He couldn’t speculate on that, but did report that a small boat had ended up wrecked on a rock formation called Dragon’s Teeth right around that time, and suggested whoever had been in that boat most certainly would not have survived.”
“What about Pedersen’s family?”
“The pub keeper said Pedersen’s mother-in-law was the crazy woman our agents had encountered. Said she seemed to go off the deep end when first her son-in-law disappeared, and then her granddaughter up and left. Guess the granddaughter couldn’t cope with the grandmother and so went to stay with an aunt in a village farther north.”
“That’s it? That’s all they learned?”
“They said that they were lucky to learn that much. The villagers were very closed-mouthed and very reticent to talk to strangers.”
“Doesn’t sound like sending anyone else to the village is going to get any better results. The mother-in-law sounds like she’s crazy and would be of no use as leverage. Finding Thorval Pedersen’s daughter might flush him out, but we don’t have either a description nor do we know where to begin to look. Another dead end.”
“Well, we did get a description of sorts for the daughter. The pub keeper’s son, who was helping in the stables, when asked, said she was fairly short with long blond hair and she traveled with a rather large muddy brown colored dog that was more brawn than brain. Actually they had a good laugh about the antics of this dog. So now all we have to do is find a short blond-haired lass accompanied by a dumb brown dog in some village in the north.”