The Legacy of Mount Drood

Chapter 20

"If it isn't my old friend who doesn't bargain with killers." The sound of the voice dragged across Rodney's neck, raising the hairs and making him shiver. He turned slowly from the counter in the Iron Staff to face the source. Gar showed him a wide, menacing grin, tilting his face so that the filthy patch over his eye was close to Rodney's nose. "Taking time to have a drink with your mates, are you?"

Rodney dropped his tankard of ale and made a grab for his sword, then screamed aloud. Gar's dagger pinned his hand to the top of the counter, a short gush of blood spilling into the pool of spilled ale.

"Not a nice way to behave now is it." He twisted the knife causing another screech from Rodney, then yanked it free and stepped back as Rodney passed out, sliding down the front of the counter to the floor.

The pain had settled into a constant throb and the piece of cloth knotted about his fist was spongy and damp with his blood. Rodney sat up slowly, recognizing the room in the back of the inn. A bored looking soldier with cuts and scrapes on his face sat across from him. Leaning by the tiny window, Gar DeBain spat onto the floor near his feet and bared his teeth at Rodney.

"What do you want with me? They've gone, and the stones with them." He felt his throat scrape as he spoke. "Can I have some water?"

Gar shook his head toward the bucket by the fireplace, resting his hand on his knife as Rodney teetered toward the refreshment, not understanding the remark about stones. "I want the whole story about why you wanted the woman and the lad, Pennistyle, and then I want to have a chat with your uncle."

The water slopped over his chin as he drank, bringing on a ragged cough. "What are you going to do about it? Are you still going after them?"

"So many questions." Gar stepped forward and slapped the dipper from his hand. "I'll do the asking, Rodney Dunbar, you just answer."

"I'll answer when I have a deal," he retorted boldly, surprising Gar and the soldier.

"A deal! What deal?"

"I know where they've gone and what they mean to do. You take me with you and we share power and riches beyond your dreams when we find them."

Gar's good eye twitched angrily, but he saw that there was only one way around this stupid popinjay. "You tell me what I want to know and I won't tear your guts out and feed them to my horse. If I like what I hear, then maybe we can deal. I think we could manage that don't you—oaf."

The soldier gulped and nodded. Being asked his opinion was so foreign, he wasn't sure if wasn't some kind of trap.

"Very well, but leave my uncle out of it. Just you and I... and... him." Rodney shifted his eyes to the soldier, sharing the same stunned fear.

*****

The rider reigned in, in front of the carriage, bringing it to a bouncing, dusty halt. He dismounted and went to the door announcing the location of an inn of sorts about an hours ride up the road. Hella beckoned him closer to the carriage and questioned him about the accommodation, waving him off after he described its features.

"This country needs a good shaking up," she complained, after hearing how she would be spending the night.

"There are not many who can afford to travel, Your Highness." Consiflore offered as an excuse.

"Are you suggesting that's my fault?"

"Of course not, Your Majesty, I simply meant that—"

"I don't need your simple meanings, Count." She pulled a face and stared out the window only to realize they were not moving. "Driver! Why the delay?" She banged noisily on the roof of the carriage.

"Awaiting your command, Your Highness."

"Well I command you to move, and you'd better be prepared to answer for your skills when we reach this- this... inn!"

The small group of soldiers accompanying the Queen stayed mounted and off to one side of the carriage, muttering nervously among themselves. Hella gawked out the window of the carriage in disbelief at the structure before them. Red faced, she gathered her skirts and pushed angrily out of the carriage, stomping around to where the soldiers huddled on their tap dancing mounts.

"Where is he? Where's the imbecile who dared to select this-," she waved her arm behind her, "this monstrosity as a place for his Queen to stay!" When none answered, she turned on the Count who trailed her at a discrete distance. "Find him. Find that man and bring him to me right here."

"Uh- your Majesty, it uh- it will be dark soon, do you not think we should first make our arrangements..." He shrugged toward the large wooden gate behind him.

"Are you saying I should consider STAYING HERE?" Consiflore cringed and backed away, silently cursing the old woman who brought this trip about and who now sat smirking next to the complacent driver.

"Not happy with the surroundin's then, dearie?" The mocking voice called from the entrance gate. "Come with old Bill, I'll see you safe for the night." A roar of laughter broke out from the crowd behind the speaker.

One of the soldiers groaned as Hella directed a stony glance at the man with the bruised face who addressed her so insolently. With great reluctance, he ordered his men forward in defense of the Queen, keeping back just far enough, avoiding any peripheral wrath.

"What is your name, dolt?"

"Oooh, she's a rather sharpish tongue, eh lads. My name's Bill, dearie, wot's yours?" He swaggered down the pathway from the gate, keeping one eye one the mounted soldiers. "You someone special then? Someone needin' all these fancy guards?"

"Yes, I am someone special—Bill—and you had best heed what I say if you place any value on your scurvy life." Hella moved forward with bold deliberation. "I am Queen Hella of Graf and all territory between there and the Wye Valley."

Bill put back his head and roared with laughter, inciting his cronies to join in. "She's the Queen of all the territory, lads. Show a little respect then, hats off!" The laughter swelled again as Bill removed his crumpled hat with a flourish.

Hella strode up to him and grinned in his face, wiping the smirk from his expression. "It will be... heads off—Bill—if I hear one more word of sarcasm. It already looks like you've stuck your nose where it doesn't belong. Now get back inside and tell whomever, that I want CLEAN, DRY, COMFORTABLE and PRIVATE lodging for the night." She held his eyes with the promise of great consequences should he fail to obey.

The laughter from the crowd at the gate faded quickly when, after a moment, Bill turned and, grim faced, strode quickly back inside the gate.

"Well done, Your Highness," Consiflore clucked. "I was just about to teach the scoundrel a lesson in manners." Hella rolled her eyes, signaled her soldiers forward, and returned to the carriage.

The room had been hastily prepared and cleaned and Bully Bill had used his reputation to see that everything Hella demanded was provided. She thanked the old man with the stump of an arm and directed Consiflore to give him some money for his information.

Amazing, she thought, how a show of authority bends people to one's will. Unexpectedly, the old man had volunteered news of the young couple he helped escape and she knew immediately that it was William and Mary. Hella also knew that if they found Jep, he would learn the story of how his mother died.

They would be dealt with in good time, she vowed. Right now, Hella decided she wanted a good night's sleep and what better to promote that than making life miserable for somebody else. She called for her soldiers to fetch the ingrate, Bully Bill and to see that he learned a lesson in respect for his betters.