The Fragile Fall At Tallow Bridge (The White Blood Chronicles Book 1) (12 page)

“ Eustace Reznik,” spoke the soldier in a low voice, extending his hand towards Thaindire,

“ Captain Eustace Reznik.”

“ Samael Thaindire,” replied Thaindire.

“ Yes, I know. Our new arrival. I saw you wandering up to the bridge this afternoon,” he commented before taking a long drink from his own flagon.

“ You’re from Lancester right?” asked the Captain.

“ Yes I am. Have you always lived in the village?” replied Thaindire.

“ No. “ came the curt reply,” What do you make of Aftlain then?”

“ Well, I am still getting used to it after thinking I would never arrive, it is quite some distance from anywhere else.”

“ That’s true, that’s why I like it, on the edge of the world and of course,” Reznik raised his voice and turned to the address the pub, “ Its one way in.”

“ And one way out!” shouted a voice back from the throng of people.

“ And if you don’t like it,” chorused several voices at once.

“ You’ll get a clout.” finished yet more of the villagers joining in before laughing.

The Captain turned back to Thaindire and afforded him a slight smile.

“ Queer bunch eh?”

“ Well er,” floundered Thaindire unsure of what to say following the impromptu declaration of Aftlain’s isolation and he opted instead to take another drink.

“ Don’t worry, it is a fact,” continued Reznik.” But I like them. I have lived in many places and this suits me best,” he explained.

“ Presumably because of your soldiering?”

“ That’s right,” replied Reznik.

“ Where have you been?” asked Thaindire his curiosity piqued.

“ Why?” snapped Reznik as he motioned for Dromgoole to refresh his cup.

“ Just wondered, making conversation.”

“ I’m jesting with you,”Reznik let his thin mouth open into a smile, “ I have criss crossed Albion, been across the sea to Ardvur, travelled south to the Ganfrey Peninsula and as far east as Serengonia.”

“ Impressive. Under whose command do you serve? That isn’t the uniform of the Duchy,” commented Thaindire, indicating the dark tunic with a tilt of his flagon.

“ My own command,” came the reply, “ Sure I started out taking the coin of the Earl of Linderdale but I soon found that, shall we say, an independent approach suited me best and I recruited accordingly. I prefer flexibility when it comes to whom I am fighting for.”

“ I see and are you still soldiering?”

“ Why, fancy joining me do you?”

“ Oh no, I am no swordsman,” protested Thaindire.

“ Really, so that display at the smithy was just showing off?” retorted Reznik. Damn, so Reznik has seen him do that also. He ought to have known better really that he would be under the scrutiny of the villagers being a stranger to them.

“ Well, er, I can wield a sword but what I mean is I am no soldier,” he back-pedalled.

Reznik gave a slight snort apparently unconvinced.

“ I base myself in Aftlain now,” said Reznik rather vague as to whether this meant he continued his soldiering. Thaindire nodded and finished off his ale. He caught Dromgoole’s attention and paid for a second flagon of Lost Soul.

“ So where did you get to in the village then?” asked Reznik turning and leaning against the bar, nonchalantly regarding the crowd of patrons. Occasionally he gave a nod of recognition as a greeting of “ Captain” could be heard from those who entered the tavern.

“ I just went round the square and up to Tallow Bridge,” explained Thaindire, “ Tell me, what do the statues on the bridge signify, they had no inscription and I did not recognise the sculptures?”

“ Haven’t a bloody clue,” muttered Reznik, “ They’ve been there a long, long time, far longer than my living here or anyone else’s for that matter. The best person to ask is Campion he knows his history.”

“ Who’s Campion?” asked Thaindire.

“ Thomas Campion, the priest. That’s his sexton, Oliver along the bar there,” the captain raised his flagon towards one of the two conversing men.

“ Oi, Oliver, is your master about tomorrow, Thaindire here wants to see him about something?” shouted Reznik.

The Sexton swivelled around and nodded before turning back to his companion.

“ Excuse me, need the piss pot,” grunted Reznik, pushing himself off the bar and making his way through a doorway beside the staircase. Thaindire sat drinking his ale watching the room. He spotted Lancaster who was sat by the window flanked by two young village girls. The wealthy fellow had his arms around each of the girls as they nuzzled into him, laughing at whatever charms were issuing from his mouth. On the far side of the fireplace he could see Ansell Redway sat with presumably his wife and another couple, although Thaindire noted Redway's hands wandered to the back and rears of both women, slowly kneading their fleshy rumps. Closer to the bar was Fenton Senechal who was tickling a younger woman who was sat across his lap, her shrieking laughter rising above the other noise of the tavern, as Senechal’s hands groped and roamed over her. The bard was singing louder, his fingers working swiftly across his instrument, a pulsating song, which several noisy villagers were joining in with. The bard caught his gaze and gave him a wink and a grin as he continued his song. The noise and the heat of the room seemed to have been increased, as if the villagers fed off one another’s growing enthusiasm and bawdiness.

“ Evening,” said a voice beside Thaindire. He turned and two men stood by him. The taller one smiled, creases forming besides his blue eyes. His companion was shorter, with a long nose and little hair on his head, that which did remain had been shaved short.

“ Excellent music,” remarked the taller man.

“ Yes, everyone seems to be enjoying it,” replied Thaindire.

“ He's quite the talent is our Balthazar. He has sung all across the county you know. He's very popular at weddings. Apparently his songs have brought blessings on the new husbands and wives that he has sung to. He ensures they are blessed with children.”

“ Is that so?”

“ Oh yes, you should ask him to sing something about you, it might help you get better, quicker,”

Thaindire frowned.

“ I think I will let my body heal naturally,” he said.

“ To be fair, I can understand that, but believe me, that man's voice has magical properties,” asserted the taller man.

“ I've never heard that said about a bard before.”

“ Well, you have now. I'm Pula Broor by the way,” said the blue-eyed man and he extended his hand. Thaindire shook hands.

“ This is Aindrew Ackerley.” The shorter man gave a nod.

“ Show me your teeth,” said Ackerley.

“ Sorry?” said Thaindire.

“ Show me your teeth. Your teeth. Teeth.”

Thaindire looked at Broor, slightly unnerved by Ackerley's demand.

“ He's a barber,” laughed Broor.

“ Oh, I see,” said Thaindire. He put his teeth together and drew his lips back. The barber reached out a finger and tapped Thaindire's teeth.

“ No work there for me,” he said a look of disappointment crossing his face.

“ How are you finding the village?” asked Broor.

“ Oh, fine, just taking a look around, for my maps, you see.”

“ Yes, I saw you walking around earlier on,” said Broor.

“ We all did,” added Ackerley.

“ So, you are staying here at the inn?” asked Broor.

“Yes and it is very hospitable.”

“ I'll wager it is,” grinned Ackerley.

“ Yes, you won't feel cold at night, the Last One Inn keeps a warm welcome for people like you Master Thaindire,” said Broor.

“ People like me?” said Thaindire.

“ Ah, talking of which,” said Ackerley as Kathryn re-appeared.

“ Has the Captain recruited you? “ she asked.

“ Not yet, “ smiled Thaindire continuing to watch the villagers.

“We'll leave you to it,” smiled Broor again.

“ Good to have met you,” said Ackerley and the two men walked away to a nearby table to join two other men.

“ He’s been all over the world,” she added, “ sometimes he will tell the tavern a tale from his many adventures, there are plenty to choose from.”

“ Who? Master Broor or Master Ackerley?” said Thaindire.

“ Oh not those two, no. They have never been anywhere other than Aftlain. Pula fancies himself mayor of the village, if such a thing was allowed. He talks to everyone. He's always coming up with ideas for improvements for the village. No, I am talking about Captain Reznik,” said Kathryn.

“ Ah, I daresay he has been all over the world. He is certainly well travelled,” confirmed Thaindire.

Kathryn leant a little closer to Thaindire, her left breast nudging against his arm.

“ He’s lived here an age you know, but he always looks the same. Some say he is damned to remain here forever as punishment for looking both ways,” she whispered.

“ Looking both ways?” queried Thaindire turning to look at her.

“ Yes, he’s has taken the pay of both the One True God and the Fallen One, so he can dwell with neither when his time comes,” she continued, “so he has to stay here, doing the dirty work of both sides for all time. He couldn’t decide who his master was and is and we all have to choose whose side we are on, don’t we?”

“ There is only one side. That of the One True God,” countered Thaindire, “ Anyway, he talks as if he is own master.” he added.

“ That’s what he likes to think, but he is as beholden to them as you and I are.”

“ Is that a fact?” he remarked surprised that such words of sincerity were coming from that tempting mouth. “ Then whose side are you on?” he asked.

“ Why, yours of course,” she smiled her eyes widening before giving a giggle and darting away from the witch hunter.

“ Stupid girl, “ hissed Thaindire quietly, irritated by her flirting.

              He turned back to the bar and cupping his flagon he gazed at the dark contents before slaking the last of the liquid and ordering another. Dromgoole was happy to comply, placing a full container back before him. The pub began to hush as the sound of the lyre became more noticeable and Thaindire realised that everyone had fallen silent to allow the man to sing to the whole of the tavern. Not wishing to appear rude, he swung around on the stool looking out across the room. The bard was stood, strumming on the lyre as his soft voice began to regale all within the pub. His song was similar to those that he had heard in the taverns of Lancester, of a knight journeying Albion seeking his sweetheart and overcoming the scoundrels and vagabonds that sought to thwart his ambitions. It was enjoyable enough and sections of the crowd joined in with the chorus each time. Thaindire noticed that Reznik had not returned to the bar after his departure to use the piss pot, which was somewhat disappointing as there was more he would like to ask of the soldier. Perhaps he would seek him out en route to see Campion, as the Captain’s house was the imposing structure on the corner of the square and the western road that led to the church. The song ended and Thaindire obtained another drink as he sat and listened to the bard’s next ditty, which was a more up tempo affair recalling a battle between two warring dukes and the slaughter of all their sons.

              By the time the raucous rendition had ended, most of the tavern had joined in singing and clapping, enjoying the revelry. Thaindire decided, after four flagons of Lost Soul that it was time for him to retire to his room and he took his leave, heading for the staircase. As he reached the lower landing he watched as Lancaster disappeared into his room, the two village girls draped about him and Thaindire shook his head continuing upwards. He was pleased to note that the few hours he had spent sat at the bar had not had a deleterious effect on his back and this augured well for his further investigations, which needed to be undertaken the following day. He stifled a yawn as he opened his lodging door and stepped into the room.

              Sat on his bed was Kathryn. She was completely naked, her dress cast asunder to one side. Her legs were crossed but she leant slightly backwards, hands planted either side of her, enabling her young breasts to be thrust forward. Thaindire halted in his tracks. The room throbbed with desire, the air thick with the spicy scent, which Kathryn had been wearing, and Thaindire noted that some scarlet candles had been placed on the mantelpiece and lit, differing from the usual white candles.

“ Come to me Samael,” she purred beckoning him forward. Her eyes flashed with desire and Thaindire felt his groin stir at the enticing woman sat before him.

“ Love me,” she urged, running a hand across her full right breast and down over her very slightly rounded stomach towards her most private of parts.

“ I cannot,” Thaindire said firmly looking down at the floor.

“ Why, do you have a sweetheart?” she asked almost in a mocking tone.

“ No, I don’t,” he answered.

” Then come and love me,” she coaxed rising from he bed, gliding across to him. Thaindire took a step backwards, evading her outstretched hands.

“ No, I am not permitted,” he explained and strode across to the bed snatching up her dress.