65. In Stonebridge
Derian
Chapman came to the Citadel on a fall morning, two days after Milo told
Commander Tondbert about Ody Dans’s bizarre abuse of Tilde Gyricson. Milo had waited a day, letting the
import of Tilde’s testimony sink into Tondbert’s scheming mind. He planned to suggest to the commander
how convenient it would be to move a woman who had such damning accusations
against Ody Dans within the walls of the City Guard fortress. It would be best, of course, if
Tondbert imagined that this idea was his own.
When
Milo knocked on the commander’s door, it opened to reveal Derian sitting at
ease in a chair opposite Tondbert’s desk.
The commander motioned Milo to another chair and sat behind the desk,
after shutting the door.
“Fair
morning, Sir Milo.” Derian’s brown
hair had been cut short and neatly brushed. Clean-shaven, he looked healthy and confident, his blue eyes
fixed on Milo. “Commander Tondbert
has been telling me about your fine service to Stonebridge these last three
months. You’ve made yourself quite
indispensable.”
Milo
inclined his head in greeting and lowered himself into the chair. “Fair morning, Derian. May I ask, just out of curiosity, where
the gods have taken you? The last
I saw you we had barely escaped with our lives from Gaudy’s Tavern.”
“Ha
ha! Indeed. I owe you my life, Sir, and I won’t
forget it.” Derian’s smile gave
way to thoughtfulness. “The answer
is: I’ve been out of Stonebridge.
As a dutiful under-sheriff, today I report back to the commander, since
I’ve come home.”
Abroad
from Stonebridge for three months? “Details, Derian. I don’t suppose you want to say
precisely what you’ve been doing.”
“Oh,
I don’t mind at all.” Derian
grinned at Commander Tondbert. “I
made a long circuit of the great downs: castles Saltas Semitas, Auria Prati, and Lata Altum Flumen. Finally I came round to the city by East Lake, Down’s
End. Along the way I also sighted Eclipsis
Lunaris, but it is a
ruin, as you know.”
Milo
was genuinely surprised.
“Gods! A thousand miles in
the saddle! Alone?”
“Of
course not,” said Derian. “Ingwald
Freeman was my guard.”
“Naturally. To what end did you make this journey?”
“More
than one purpose, actually,” said Derian.
“My uncle thought it wise to get me out of Stonebridge for a while after
Gaudy’s Tavern, and
he needed a postboy. He had me
carry letters to the Le Grants of Saltas Semitas, the Postels of Auria Prati, and the Asselins of Lata Altum
Flumen. Don’t look so surprised. Uncle Ody doesn’t spend all his time
reviewing business contracts or torturing young brides. He corresponds with castle lords all
over the western half of Tarquint.
Unfortunately, I do not know what his letters said, but you can be sure
they seek to promote the power and influence of Stonebridge. My uncle is a farseeing man.”
Tondbert
noted Milo’s surprised expression at the words “torturing young brides.” The commander said, “Sir Milo, you
should know that Ody Dans’s crimes against Adelgar and Tilde Gyricson are not
his first. Derian has reported
murders and other outrages at The Spray. I find this
information valuable. You may ask
why I do not use such testimony to move against Dans. The answer is that I love my city. Ody Dans, depraved sadist that he is, is quite effective in
representing the interests of the city in our dealings with castle lords. And—he supports the Citadel budget; of
all the voices in the Assembly I can count on Dans. So he is a useful criminal.”
Milo
inclined his head.
“There
was a second purpose to my tour of the downs,” said Derian. “A commercial purpose. I took with me three dozen bottles of
Stonebridge’s best sweet white wine, which I shared with the lords and ladies I
visited. Castle lords live in
luxury hard for ordinary people to imagine. Gods! I
forget! Sir Milo, having grown up
in Hyacintho Flumen,
you know well what I mean. Lady
Arbe Asselin, Simon Asselin’s wife, let me bathe in a magic tub when I visited Lata
Altum Flumen—my uncle
Ody has nothing to rival that! But
they eat and drink the foods grown locally. Lots of beef and mutton and beer. Not bad beer, by the way! But when they tried our white wine, with a touch of apricot,
they tasted paradise.”
Milo
smiled. “And so . . .?”
“So
they must wait until spring. I’m
not going to haul a wagon of wines across the downs in autumn. Snow comes early at Lata Altum
Flumen! But there are also thirsty throats in
Down’s End, and that’s only a few days away, as the wagons roll. Uncle Ody has lent me golds to buy and
store wine, reds as well as whites.
I’ll hire out a couple wagons and take them to Down’s End. The profit will be modest, but I
explained to Uncle Ody how I’ll reserve a third of my purchase for next
spring. I should get excellent
returns from the Le Grants, Postels, and Asselins.”
“An
ambitious plan,” said Milo. “And
likely well-paying.”
“I
hope so, for my sake. My uncle
expects me to turn profits. But
now, Milo, your dealings! Tondbert
says you rescued Tilde Gyricson.”
Milo
held his palms out. “The commander
speaks kindly. Felix Abrecan and I
prevented her, in a moment of despair, from throwing herself into River
Broganéa. Felix suggested a place
where Tilde might stay.”
“In
Laura Camden’s house,” Tondbert added.
“You speak too modestly, under-sheriff Milo. By the way, shouldn’t we make you sheriff soon? You obtained my permission for Mistress
Gyricson to work here in the Citadel, keeping her largely from the public eye,
without telling me much about her.
Clever of you.”
“Ah,
Commander! About that . . .”
Tondbert
interrupted with a raised palm. “You need not apologize. You hadn’t learned to trust me then as
you do now.” Tondbert smiled
indulgently. Milo thought: You
imagine that I trust you? Surely
you know better than that!
The commander continued, “We all can
agree that Tilde Gyricson ought to be protected. If ever I have to bring charges against Master Dans, her
testimony would corroborate that of others. So I have decided to house her here, out of the public eye,
in a room on the second floor of the Citadel. The men will undoubtedly see that there is a, ah, relationship between you and the cleaning woman. All to the good. The men like you, and they will not
trouble Mistress Gyricson, knowing that she is yours.”
Milo
smiled conspiratorially. “If the
commander suggests such a pleasant plan, who am I to object? Will you tell the woman, or should I?”
Tondbert
grinned. “I expect you will see
her before I do. See that she’s
moved here soon. The less the
world knows of her existence the safer she will be from Ody Dans.”
“I
understand that, sir. The woman
herself is concerned that Adelgar Gyricson not discover her whereabouts. Perhaps we should call our cleaning
woman Daisy, a fitting name for a washerwoman.”
“Fine. Introduce her to the men as Daisy.”
Daisy
Freewoman took up residence on the second floor of the Citadel of the City
Guard on a cold, windy, wet day in October. As she went about her work, she typically wore a poorly
mended russet kirtle, mismatched hose, and a ratty shawl. Her hands were often red, almost raw,
from long days of scrubbing. Some
of the new under-sheriffs told each other that Daisy would have been pretty if life had treated her better. But word quickly spread that she was
already taken; Sheriff Milo often visited her cell after sup.
A
crisp aroma captured Milo and Felix on a sunny afternoon. They had finished their morning and
afternoon rounds as sheriffs; this outing was for pleasure, visiting shops,
mills, glassworks, forges, smiths, and the like—the productive heart of
Stonebridge. It was the smell of
apples; Felix gestured to Milo, and they followed a farmer’s wagon laden with
bushels of red apples.
The
wagon master guided his team into a medium sized wood building. Surprisingly loud sounds were coming
from somewhere inside the warehouse.
Milo nodded to his companion and they followed the wagon out of the
bright afternoon into interior shade.
Milo blinked several times until his eyes adjusted to the dimness. Two youths, younger than Eádulf, had
begun carrying the bushels from the wagon into an adjoining room; the grinding
sound was coming from there.
“Cider
pressing.” Felix almost had to
shout. By leaning near their
horses’ necks they could see into the next room without dismounting. Milo saw a man cranking a metal
flywheel while the two youths threw apples into the maw of a toothed spindle
box.
“Ah!” Milo had never seen such a contraption
before. Below the spindle box
shredded apple bits fell into a tub.
Suddenly
Milo’s attention diverted from the process of cider pressing. He swung down from the saddle. “Hold Blackie a bit, will you,
Felix?” Without waiting for his
partner’s reply, Milo walked into the cider pressing room. A man stood on the far side of the
press, his tunic protected by a body-length leather apron. Bits of apple pulp and drops of apple
juice decorated his apron.
“Adelgar
Gyricson!” Milo shouted over the
noise of the cider press. The man
looked up, frowned for a moment, and then motioned to one of the boys feeding
apples into the grinder. He
beckoned Milo with a wave through a further doorway into a small room outfitted
as an office. He shut the door,
reducing the sound from the grinder room significantly.
“Sir
Milo Mortane of Hyacintho Flumen! I remember you. I’d offer my hand, but it’s sticky.”
“Fair
afternoon, Adelgar.” Milo extended
his hand and Gyricson took it.
“You’ve moved into industry, I take it. No more selling lumber in Down’s End.”
“Hah! Not by preference, I assure you. There is no one so pathetic as a
merchant without credit. I fear
Ody Dans has attached a dark cloud to my name; none of the bankers will
underwrite my proposals.”
“I’m
sorry to hear it,” said Milo. “I
myself have become a sheriff of Stonebridge. We all have to earn our keep.”
“Sheriff!” Gyricson’s interest was evident. “Could you help me find Tilde? I’ve never seen her since that awful
night.”
Milo
knew this question would come.
“Find her? But Dans
demanded only two weeks.” He hoped
his feigned ignorance convinced Gyricson.
“She
never came home.” Gyricson looked
stricken. “I asked a sheriff for
help, but he didn’t offer much hope.”
“I
fear the Guard spends most of its time keeping the Hawks and Falcons from
slaughtering each other and burning the Bene Quarter,” said Milo. “But I promise I will watch for
Tilde. Such a beautiful
woman! By the way, you should be
on your guard. Your testimony
against Ody Dans could destroy him.”
Gyricson
shook his head. “Not likely. I spoke to Commander Tondbert. He told me plainly that if I filed a
complaint against Dans, the Guard could not guarantee my safety.”
“I’m
very sorry. Nevertheless, I will
keep my eyes and ears open. If I
discover anything about Tilde, you will be the first to know.”
Copyright © 2013 by Philip D. Smith.
All rights reserved. International copyright secured.
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