Dragon Clan #1: Camilla's Story

CHAPTER TWENTY

Edward knew the Slave Master and Weapons Master would soon figure out they were chasing the wind because of the misleading directions the villagers provided. Served them right for ordering the villagers around and acting superior. He dressed and went to the railing that looked over the common room. A few men ate or sipped ale. One lifted his mug in friendly salute. Edward responded with a curt nod.

Finding the innkeeper, he asked for quill and paper.

Skipping breakfast, he went down the stairs, returned a few more nods from people half-remembered from the drunken night before, and walked to the stable. “My horse.”

“Yes, sir.”

The man reached into his pocket and held out a copper coin.

“What’s that?” Edward demanded.

“Sir, if you’re leaving so soon I cannot accept a full copper.”

“Keep it. I’ll be back, and you can owe me.”

The coin disappeared. The stableman trotted inside the barn and returned with Edward’s horse, saddled and looking brushed and well cared for. He held the stirrup for Edward to mount. Riding towards his camped procession outside of town, Edward discovered an odd sensation. The villagers treated him well. They seemed to like him for himself. None tried to take advantage—and none laughed at him behind his back.

His experience had always been with servants who laughed when they believed he looked the other way or royalty who did worse when they laughed as he looked at them. He was treated with the respect due to his birth, and theirs. The King’s sons didn’t like him, while the sons of lesser nobles treated him with deference.

He had more than one task to accomplish this morning. The caravan leader and guide spotted him and mounted his horse. Edward pulled to a halt and waited outside the camp.

As he neared, the guide called, “Sir, it is good to have you safely back. All is packed and ready for your triumphant entrance into Nettleton.”

Edward silently waited.

When the guide pulled even with him, Edward spoke softly to add emphasis. “My mission in Nettleton will take more time. It is my mission, directed by the sheriff and approved by the King. I have no more need of you nor the rest of those,” he waved an arm in the direction of the campsite.

“Sir, we cannot leave you here. Tomas and the sheriff will have my head.”

“No, they will not. You are to carry these letters from me.” Edward handed him several sheets of folded paper, each with a name clearly printed on the outside. “The one to Tomas says I will take all responsibility for sending you back early. It also says that the sheriff and I will have another private meeting to discuss this fiasco of a trip and the costs involved. The one to the Earl asks him to delay paying for this trip until I return. The third is for the sheriff’s eyes alone. It says that I am in competition with the Slave Master and Weapons Master to locate the boy we are searching for.”

“I don’t understand.”

Edward drew himself up and inhaled deeply before speaking. “Then understand this. If I should arrive back at the palace and find that any but the sheriff has read his letter, I will have you hanged by the gate until your corpse rots and falls apart. If I find either of the other two was not delivered intact, without other eyes peering at them, I will have you drawn and quartered, and I will personally issue the order for the horses that will tear you apart.”

“Sir?”

“I have told you the gist of each letter to save you the bother of trying to find someone to read them so you can sell the information. Only you and I know what we have discussed this morn. Only you have the letters. They are your key to safety, and I’m sure there will be a small stack of silver for your troubles. However, if my instructions are not followed, I will use that same silver to post rewards for your head all over the seven kingdoms.”

The guide looked ill. He held the letters by his fingertips as if they were generating heat. “Sir, I take orders from Tomas.”

Edward smiled, using much the same smile as the sheriff at the first-day meetings when assigning a distasteful task to an underling. “You have my instructions. Hung, drawn and quartered, or rewarded, it makes little difference to me. You will not be my only messenger delivering the same messages, and that fact should give you pause.”

Edward broke eye contact and turned his horse. When the horse faced the village, he put his heels to it and allowed the horse to set its pace. The horse wanted to run. So be it. His hair flew out behind, and he broke into a laugh.

The stableman greeted him, reaching for the bridle and talking softly to the horse.

“Good man, I am traveling further, today. Will you be so kind as to quickly gather whatever I need for a trip of several days?”

“Sir, I’ll have it ready in two shakes.”

Feeling good, Edward said, “Make that three or four shakes, instead. I’m going to eat a hearty breakfast before leaving. Who should I see about clothing and whatever else I may need?”

“I’d ask the innkeeper. He can make up a store of food good for traveling, and I’ll be sure he has some clothes travelers left at the inn that’ll fit. Maybe a groundsheet and a blanket, too.”

Once inside the inn, he asked for the innkeeper and a mug of milk. It would be a while before he drank more ale. The innkeeper listened to his needs and hurried off to gather everything. The young girl brought him heavy dark bread and preserves, along with a slab of butter. She also brought sliced beef and two types of local cheese, both of which tasted better than any at the palace.

He smiled at the lie he’d told the guide about other messengers. But it was no lie that if the guide did not do his bidding exactly as Edward wanted, he would find himself in deep trouble. He tore off another chunk of bread and slathered butter thickly, edge to edge.

“A good morning to you.” A villager he couldn’t remember a name for, called.

“And to you, too.” The greeting was made without demand or expectation. Edward turned back to him, “I’m going up the valley and don’t know the way. Would you know of someone who could spare a few days to show me the way?”

The unknown man shrugged, “You just follow the road, sir. Only one road going that way, but if you want, I can go see if Potter’s oldest boy can spare the time to show you the way.”

Remembering how Tomas has charged and overcharged for every part of the trip, and not wanting to be taken advantage of again, he said, “Do you have any idea of the cost?”

The man cast him an odd look before answering. He sounded just a little angry. “Sir, you asked for help. There’s no charge for helping a man who needs it.”

“I see. Didn’t mean to offend.” Edward looked down at his plate of food. Last night one small silver coin had paid for food and drink for twenty, or more. Inside his purse was ten or fifteen more silver coins, half that many in gold, and only a few coppers. One gold exchanged for three hundred silver coins of the same size. He glanced around and made a quick calculation. One of his gold coins would probably buy the inn, the contents, and pay the wages for the staff for a hundred years. One coin. Yet, the good people of Nettleton asked for nothing to help him.

The other man stood. “I’ll go ask Potter, now. If his boy goes with you, he’ll be here in a short while. If he cannot, I’ll ask around and get somebody else here quick as I can.”

Edward’s fingers tingled with the urge to reach for a coin, but he resisted. The old man did the favor because he wanted to, not because he would get paid. He tore off more bread and made a promise to himself. When he became Earl, he would sneak back to Nettleton for a few days, now and then.

A short while later the innkeeper returned. He carried a blanket and clothing under one arm and a cloth sack in the other hand. The door opened and a boy old enough to have a scruff beginning to grow on his cheeks entered. He walked to Edward and stuck his hand out. “Call me Tangos, sir. I’ll be glad to take you up the valley.”

The innkeeper beamed at Tangos and said, “I’ll go pack more food for you. This one will eat enough for two.”

“You have a horse?” Edward asked the boy who was so excited he danced from foot to foot.

“No sir, but don’t you worry, I’ll keep up.”

“Nonsense. Go tell the stableman to ready a mount for you. I’ll settle with him shortly.” Edward watched the innkeeper carry empty mugs to a tub where he washed them and lined the clean ones up neatly on a shelf. He had washed mugs the night before, too. It looked like a part of the job the innkeeper preferred to do himself. Customers want a clean mug. The way to ensure that happened was to take on the chore himself. Another lesson learned.

Edward smiled as his fingers found two silver coins in his purse and placed them in the dregs of wine left in the bottom of his mug. Swill or not, he had enjoyed himself in a way that was both new and invigorating. He waved to the innkeeper, knowing that as soon as he left the innkeeper would grab his mug and wash it. Hopefully, Edward would already be down the road before he found the silver. “We’ll be off, soon.”

“You’re always welcome here at the Red Dog, sir,” the innkeeper called over his shoulder.