The Blacksmith’s Son

Chapter 21

I woke in a dark room. I lay still for a long while, trying to figure out how I had gotten there. Gradually I realized that someone lay next to me, and after a moment I identified it as Penny. The snoring is a dead giveaway, and it was worse than ever now, probably because of her nose. I slid my hand over to her and discovered she had a nightgown on. How disappointing. She stirred and the snoring stopped, I could feel her eyes on me in the dark, although I was sure she couldn’t see, the room was pitch black.

“Are you awake?” she asked softly.

“I’m not sure, this could be heaven,” I replied moving my hand over her shoulder. “I must be awake, because in heaven all the girls are naked.”

“Idiot, we thought you were dying,” she said, “I thought I would lose you.”

“I should have written you a letter first, then you would have felt better.” I replied sarcastically. Have I mentioned my unparalleled skills in talking to women?

For a change she didn’t react angrily, “I couldn’t do it without leaving you something, to explain.” I didn’t like the sound of her voice, it had a thick sound, as if she were about to cry.

I did my best to divert her, “Exactly why did you try to kill Devon anyway? Are you that interested in getting yourself killed?”

She explained what had happened; her vision, killing Father Tonnsdale, and her resolve to make the most of things by getting rid of Devon Tremont. I listened quietly, amazed at her nerve. This lovely woman had killed the traitor and hidden the fact without me being any the wiser. Then she had planned a murder and kept me completely unaware. I would have been scared to have her in the bed with me if I wasn’t absolutely sure we were on the same team.

“At least I had a good reason for everything I did. Unlike you… you tried to kill yourself at the end, even after they were all dead,” she finished.

“Not true, I was making sure they were dead,” I answered.

“You’re an idiot.” she shot back.

“You’re a double idiot, potato nose!” I replied wittily. Luckily this time she saw the humor in my joke and started giggling, and soon we were both laughing. Fatigue washed over me in waves and I decided I needed more sleep. Before I drifted off I realized I couldn’t feel her with my mind. I couldn’t feel anything. I was blind, but it wasn’t my eyes that weren’t working.

I woke early the next morning, amazed at how good I felt. By all rights I should be dead; instead I was hungry and extremely thirsty. Penny was not in the room so I ordered room service, “Hey! Somebody! I know you’re out there ya bunch of vultures. I’m not dead! I want food and something to drink!” In point of fact I had no idea if anyone was outside my door, I couldn’t sense anything beyond what my eyes could see. But I’m smart you see, I knew that whenever the hero slays a dragon the villagers always wait outside to bring him food and drink. There’s usually grateful virgins too, but I didn’t think Penny would approve of me asking for those.

Sure enough Benchley poked his head into the room, “You called sir?”

“Yes, thank you Benchley. Do come in,” he entered the room with his usual aplomb. I ignored his impeccable manners and started placing my order, “I need you to go kill me a cow. Not a small one mind, a big fat one. Have it cooked and brought up straight away.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Certainly sir.”

“Wait, nix that. Cooking will take too long, just kill it and bring it on up, I’ll have it rare.”

He nodded and left, cheeky bastard. I had my suspicions that he might not have taken me seriously. Of course I could just as easily have gone down and gotten my own food. My body seemed surprisingly whole, but they didn’t have to know that. Not yet anyway.

Since I was alone I took the opportunity to relieve myself. Strictly speaking the chamber pot is for use at night, so you don’t have to make the long walk to the privies, but I was feeling contrary. I also examined my face in the mirror.

Ugh! I looked like I had a really bad hangover. Too bad I hadn’t actually been drinking. The scar on my cheek was ugly and red and the skin had obviously been put together a bit sloppily. I can always tell the ladies it’s a dueling scar, I thought. Then I realized it actually was a sword inflicted scar; the events of the previous day seemed almost unreal.

There was a knock at the door so I hopped back in bed. It wouldn’t do to give away my healthy condition too soon, “Come in!”

Benchley came in, and as I suspected he had not brought me the cow I had ordered. Instead he had a large tray loaded with roast beef and a variety of fruits and vegetables. “Where’s my cow?” I asked reasonably.

“I’m afraid the cow was too fast for me sir. I managed to hack this part off before it got away, I do hope it will be satisfactory,” he answered with a deadpan face. I’ll be damned, I thought, he has a sense of humor. I decided to forgive him for cooking it instead of bringing it up raw.

Benchley left and Marc came in soon after. “Still playing sick I see,” he remarked.

He always had known me too well. “After yesterday I think I could use a rest,” I replied.

“Yesterday? You’ve been abed for almost two days. The attack was three days ago,” he said.

“Oh,” I replied intelligently.

Seeing my confusion he began filling me in on the events after my untimely collapse. Once the enemy had been crisped and starved for air they had searched the bodies. Dorian had taken the extraordinary precaution of hacking Lord Devon’s head from his shoulders. It seems I wasn’t the only paranoid one. They had even burned his corpse, both parts.

The Duke had rallied the outer garrison and they had swept the castle from top to bottom, rooting out the rest of the assassins. They had actually found another forty men scattered throughout the keep and some of the fighting had been long and bloody, but in the end the men of Lancaster had won the day. Dorian had gotten more exercise during that and had made quite a reputation for himself. Some of the men were calling him the ‘Demon of Lancaster’ now. He had been less than merciful to the enemy. He had also been wounded.

It was just a flesh wound, a dagger through his thigh, but Rose had him in her care now and she was taking no chances. Apparently she was just as protective of him as Penny had been with me. The family physician was probably still off sulking somewhere.

Father Tonnsdale was found dead in his study and it was widely circulated that the assassins had killed him first. Genevieve never mentioned seeing Penny with the iron poker and I’m still not sure if she forgot or if she and Penny had come to an agreement. Women are scary and I’m probably better off not knowing. Timothy’s body had not been found, and knowing Penny’s story that worried me some, but I didn’t have a clue what to do about it.

The teleportation circle that Devon had created was found during the search for assassins. Unfortunately it was destroyed before I had a chance to study it. I would have given a pretty penny to know how it was constructed. I still had hopes that such things might be found further into Vestrius’ journal.

All told some thirty seven men and women of the Lancaster household lost their lives, and a considerable number were injured, but it could have been much worse. Close to two hundred assassins had been killed and if Father Tonnsdale’s plan had been successful the people of Lancaster would have been unable to defend themselves. It would have been a repeat of the slaughter at Cameron Castle sixteen years before.

Of the noble guests who had come to the Lancaster estate two were dead. Stephen Airedale was killed during the defense of the great hall. The other was Devon Tremont of course, and there was sure to be repercussions for his actions and his death, although it was far from certain what they would be.

Gregory Pern proved that his father’s military success was no mere accident, for he acquitted himself admirably during both the defense of the hall and the clean up action after Devon was killed. James Lancaster wrote his Admiral Pern a long letter detailing what had happened and commending him on his son’s bravery.

Some of the guests stayed for another week after the disaster, to assist as they could, and to be present at the funerals. Rose Hightower stayed for a month, refusing to leave until Dorian was fully recovered. In fact he could nearly run by the time she left, but we knew there were more reasons for her to stay than just his wound.

The enemy were stacked and burned beyond the castle walls. Only the bodies of Lancaster were buried, and within two days of the battle. The funeral service was almost a week afterwards. It took time to get the castle back in order, and quite a few people had been wounded. It was held on a small grassy knoll near the cemetery, and everyone still able to walk or hobble attended. James Lancaster gave the eulogy, and because so many had died it took nearly two hours to finish. He made a point to speak for several minutes about each person that had died. Frankly I was amazed that he had known them all.

The good Duke was the sort of man who made it a point to know everyone who served him down to the lowest servant, and he had obviously spent long hours working on his speech. Before it was half done most of the crowd were misty eyed, those that weren’t already weeping openly. He saved Lord Thornbear for last.

“Gram Thornbear I have saved till now, because I was not sure I would be able to finish if I spoke of him first, for he was my closest friend. In life I knew him from our boyhood days, as a fellow adventurer in childhood pastimes. As a man I respected him as a loyal companion, a loving father, and a wise counselor. In death, I mourn him, for he saved my life and the lives of many standing here now. His action, in the brave defense of the great hall was merely the last act in a long life full of service and integrity. Gram Thornbear’s last moments stand out not as an exception, but as an example of how he lived, strong and unbowed by the hardships and trials that cause lesser men to lose their way. He was my first and best friend and I doubt I shall ever know his like again. We will all miss him.” James Lancaster’s head was bowed as he finished, and I am sure he was crying.

To see him weeping openly affected me deeply, for I had never known him to complain or show sadness. My own face was wet as I held Penny’s hand, not daring to look at her, and I vowed to live my life as best I could. To live up to the examples in front of me, Lord Thornbear, James Lancaster, Royce Eldridge, and my own father who I had never known. Only time will show whether I succeed or not.