Tales of the Big Bad Wolf: The Red Riding Hood Arc (A Fairy Tale)

Chapter Seven: The Wolf Past, Part 2

CHAPTER SEVEN  
The Wolf Past, Part 2

Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye.
Four and twenty blackbirds,
Baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened,
The birds began to sing;
Wasn't that a dainty dish,
To set before the king?

“Sir.”

The well-tailored manservant cleared his throat, stirring up swirls of dust from some books that lay nearby on a table.  Hastings frowned as he looked about the study, wondering where the ‘young master’ was now.  He had recently returned from a long series of errands and been dumped unceremoniously back at the front building by the coachman, saddled with a rather clumsy number of baskets and things that Giles had apparently been ordered to retrieve.

A white-gloved hand emerged from behind a rather frumpy Empire styled chaise-lounge and waved distractedly.

“Sir,” the old man repeated, somewhat tersely.  “My apologies for disturbing you, but that damnable coachman of yours insisted I bring this pie to you immediately.”  He had not only insisted, but had wheedled compliance from the elderly butler by promising to share some of the precious liquor he had secured this morning from the lady by the roadside.  Hastings was no fool. He accepted the offer.

The owner of the hand sat up with a large sigh.  “Giles must be tormenting you again, Hastings. You know that I do not care for blackbird pie, or pork pies, or whatever else might be in the mysterious meat pie of the day from the town pub.”

“Well, I didn’t think it was your sort of thing, sir, but he did say it was some sort of mince pie.”   Hastings wrinkled up his nose delicately, “Full of odd spices, I might dare say. He believed you might find its taste interesting.”

The Count swung his legs over the edge of the chair and put his book down on the surface of the chair in order to give the butler his full attention.  What Giles found interesting usually proved to be worth noticing.  “And the reason that he did not bring it himself?”

“Oh, that man wants to set off for Crossroads and investigate the road.”

“Giles is always reliable in that regard,” the Count gave a slight nod of approval.  “Likely he will warn any others about the sightings of unfriendly creatures on the road.” Likely he would also be investigating the claims of Elanore Redley.

 “Yes, as such, he took a fast horse and a few weapons. But he should return by nightfall.”  Hastings added under his breath, “Assuming he finishes warning all the ladyfolk in Crossroads by then.”

Maximilian coughed, masking his amusement at Hastings’ remarks.  The apparent rivalry between two of his more trusted servants was no secret in this household.  “When he returns, please bring him to me.”

“And as for the pies?” Hastings’ expression had gone from mild distaste to utter loathing.

“Leave them here, along with the basket,” the Count stood.  “I am afraid I need you to help supervise something else.”

“A project, sir?”

“Something like that, perhaps,” the younger man smiled neutrally.  “You’ll see when you get to the kitchen.”

Hastings bowed and, with a certain amount of relief, deposited a basket of odd food items and assorted letters at his master’s table.

As he scurried away, his master pushed the light wooden cover of the basket aside to inspect the interior contents.  There was a small number of food items wrapped in paper likely taken from some cast off Capestown newspaper.  What had been casually discarded by one, however, was treated with much more respect by him.  Gently, he removed the paper and set it aside for later inspection, before taking fork and knife to a pie.