The roar was unmistakable. Gloria winced at the sound of it and William whimpered and buried his face in his mother's lap.
The roar was unmistakable, but the words were unintelligible. The whole of the castle held it's breath as the master roared up and down the great hall, berating his younger son for a fool and a coward. When at last the harangue was concluded, Justin emerged from the hall. His fists were clenched as tight as his jaw. His face was so red that his straw colored hair looked nearly white in contrast. His blue eyes blazed; looking straight before him, he marched up the stairs and into his rooms. The determined quietness of the door's closure was more ominous than if he had slammed it for all he was worth.
Gloria said nothing. She did not move, but stared back calmly at her husband as he entered and locked eyes with her.
Finally, Justin broke the silence, his voice strained with self-control.
“Well. I have been cast forth for a coward and a weakling. Me! A Thackery! As brawn and brash as any man!”
Then, and only then, did Gloria move. She sprang to her feet and rushed across to him, a glow in her eyes he had never seen before; half-pride, half-anger. Throwing her arms about his poker-straight form, chin resting on his broad chest, she cried, “Justin Thackery, you are more a man than they! You stood firm and did the right thing! You willingly relinquished the blood-money to the man who will return it to it's rightful owners. It took more courage to face an armed man unarmed and humble yourself before him than any 'bold deed' of your father or brother ever has done or will do! My husband has moral courage...”
Suddenly, nothing that had just transpired mattered to Justin any longer. Gloria had said “my husband” with both pride and love.
~~~~~~~~
Philip stared up at the ceiling beams. Rumour had it that Warren Thackery had turned his youngest son out, with nothing more than the clothes on his back and the wife and child he loved more than life. He had not told his father yet, though he knew that the rescue of his sister and nephew from their plight would be of top priority if it were true. His only hesitance was that in addition to Gloria and William, they would have to take in Justin—a Thackery. Between himself and Thad, Philip knew there was no love lost on any man of Thackery blood and such civility that must be shown would be hard to muster. He sighed and tossed on his cot, the screams of his sisters once more playing through his mind. Gloria...and Faith. Where was Faith? Was she even alive?
Just hours later, Philip was thundering down the road, his long-legged black mare eagerly devouring up the distance. As the mid-day sun shone down on him, the mare skidded to a stop, road dust flying about in a cough-inducing cloud. Peasants scattered like startled hens only to stop and peer cautiously from fence-row and tree, window and door at the scene unfolding before them.
A leggy black-mare pirouetted in the road, the long black-cloak of her rider swishing about his knees. In his left hand, indeed his only hand (“The Avenger!” the whispered cry spread), flashed a keen saber.
Opposite him stood a Thackery...but not just any Thackery—Warren Thackery the Younger. Big, brash, ready for a brawl, Warren dwarfed the figure on the horse, even as the other sat above him from the animal's back.
Warren's steel flashed an answer to the unspoken challenge of the rider.
“Dismount coward!” he cried, stepping forward to brandish his menacing sword.
Philip answered not, but sprang lightly over the rump of his horse, startling her into a distraction in doing so. As Warren regained his composure after being nearly trampled by the creature, he leapt forward to strike at the thin figure before him. Battle engaged, the two went at it as blacksmith's beating out a plowshare.
Blood drawn! The Avenger's face mask had been stripped from his face by the deft flick of Warren's wrist. The boyish face now exposed and bleeding compelled greater pity from the populace and a number of women cried out in motherly sympathy.
Warren's eyes narrowed. He clearly recognized the upstart banker's friend. This one-armed knave must die!
A quick pary and Warren roared. It wasn't the pain of the sword prick that opened his cavernous mouth, but anger at the ability of the other. It was but a small prick to the shoulder, but it was humiliating regardless. His pause to gather himself together was not ignored by his opponent. Philip lunged in, perhaps fool-heartily, and followed his first prick with a second, deeper wound to the torso.
At this moment, a number of Thackery men-at-arms swung into view around the bend in the road. Realising that to continue his fight would lead only to his death, Philip spun about and sprinted down the village street, whistling his mare to him in the process. Throwing himself upon her back he galloped away to the cheers of the people. Had he remained longer, he would have seen the men-at-arms pelted with rocks and sharp invective names.
The day's work was not done however. As Philip slowed the mare, he saw before him a small party. A big man with a haystack of yellow hair strode along. On his shoulders sat a hefty toddler, who was busy pointing out a songbird in the trees. Beside the big man tripped a golden hair young woman. The picture was pleasant to look upon, but Philip felt a pang of worry for the small group. No telling how close behind him marched the men of the house of Thackery—or how much trouble those before him would be in if they were unfortunate enough to fall in with them.
Urging his horse forward therefore, he soon was abreast of them. His heart was pounding, his voice lost...it was his sister, of that there was no doubt. He gazed upon her, eager and yet shy. Justin began to take offense at the stare of the other. Stopping short, he demanded, “Well, sirrah?”
Philip's eyes slid to the reddening face of the other, embarrassed. But just at that moment, Gloria reached out and touched her husband's arm restrainingly... “The Avenger...”
Justin glanced at his wife then back at Philip; he relaxed slightly, but still kept a wary eye on the other. Something about the grip of his wife made him look down at her. She was pale, lips parted slightly, eyes wide...an incredulous look creeping across her face. Perplexed, Justin looked from her to Philip and back again.
Gloria took a step forward, “No...it can't be. Philip? It can't be!”
Philip flung himself off his horse. “But it is! I am alive! I and my father! You must come with me...you will be safe with us!”
As he spoke, sister and brother met in a long embrace, tears of joy and sadness mingled together with laughter and confusion. Justin at last understood...and he smiled. Lifting his son from his shoulders, he held him before Philip, “William, meet your uncle, the esteemed Avenger.”
Any tension that Philip had felt concerning Justin Thackery dissolved in a burst of appreciative laughter as he realised that the other had no hard feelings and was quite content to be out from under his father's thumb. United in familial friendship, the four continued their journey, the two men walking along stoutly; Gloria and the babe on the horse.
William Gage stood with his back to the fireplace, his hands clasped behind him. Thad, still unable to move his broken jaw, sat at a desk, busily scratching figures in a ledger. Sylvia sat beside him, intently watching. Master Humphries smiled at them from across the room. Theodore Simms grinned likewise and the three fathers the room contained were all fairly certain that there would shortly be a new Mistress Simms. Thad glanced up when he heard the familiar sound of Philip's steed's hooves. Spotting the looks on the faces around him, he would have grinned if it hadn't cost him too much pain. Instead, he simply blushed and looked at Sylvia, who returned his look serenely.
Into this scene of peace and romance walked a yellow haired man with a small woman on one side, a large baby on the other, and a darkly dressed young man behind. The room became electric with a variety of emotions.
A clang of steel sounded as William Gage sprang forward, a sword in hand. Justin was clearly surprised by this greeting and heartily displeased by it.
Thad stood, grinding a page of the ledger into a wad. No doubt in his mind that the man before them was a Thackery.
Gloria calmly slid between her father's sword and her husband's chest. As she looked across the expanse of steel, she pushed it aside saying gently, “No, Father...he is not as the others.” Philip seconded the statement in a visible manner by placing his hand on Justin's shoulder in a friendly gesture. Five years of distress and separation stood between father and daughter; the space between them suddenly was closed when little William boldly walked up to his grandfather and declared, “You my Gran'sir...” Astonishment was written on nearly every face, but the fearless lad unconsciously broke down the last remaining barriers as laughter greeted the unquestioning statement. No one ever really determined how he knew the truth, but it was of no real account...
In the days to come the Simms and William Gage would have to acclimate themselves to the daily presence of a Thackery. Thad watched Justin warily, not quite able to trust him despite Philip's apparent confidence. Justin was soon made known to understand that it was his own brother who had left Thaddeaus Simms with a damaged face and therefore he tried to be particularly civil to him. William Gage accepted his son-in-law after a very few days, partly due to the apparent affection the man had for his wife, partly due to Gloria's contentment with him, and partly due to the growing worth that Justin showed himself to possess independently of these factors.
The little giant soon became indispensable to the local farmers. He gamely attached himself to a plow and pulled it, for all the horses of Duffly had been taken by the house of Thackery. His previously wasted strength found it's outlet in helping others.
Gloria remarked to her father one day, “I have never seen him so happy...finally able to do something useful..something against his father.”
“Why did he never try to stop him?” Sylvia asked the question innocently enough, not being quite as fully aware of the Thackery's cruelty as the others.
Gloria looked at the pretty girl seated beside Thad, “My dear Sylvia...as strong as Justin is, there is no possible way that he could hold out against both his father and brother. And any assumed 'treachery' on his part would have put him in peril and consequently myself and little William.”
These things were taking place in the absence of Philip, for after allowing himself a few hours to sleep, he had returned to his ever increasing activity of popping up in the most unexpected places and lashing out with lightening swiftness before retreating and hiding for an hour or a few days before he once again resurfaced in another village. Thackery's men were beginning to get spread thin about the territory in the hopes of trapping him. Warren Thackery the Elder placed ever increasing bounties on The Avenger's head. Warren the Younger ached for another chance to cross steel with the lithe one-armed youth, his pride still pricked with the point of a rapier.
That time would come sooner than either expected and in unusual circumstances.
To be continued....
The roar was unmistakable, but the words were unintelligible. The whole of the castle held it's breath as the master roared up and down the great hall, berating his younger son for a fool and a coward. When at last the harangue was concluded, Justin emerged from the hall. His fists were clenched as tight as his jaw. His face was so red that his straw colored hair looked nearly white in contrast. His blue eyes blazed; looking straight before him, he marched up the stairs and into his rooms. The determined quietness of the door's closure was more ominous than if he had slammed it for all he was worth.
Gloria said nothing. She did not move, but stared back calmly at her husband as he entered and locked eyes with her.
Finally, Justin broke the silence, his voice strained with self-control.
“Well. I have been cast forth for a coward and a weakling. Me! A Thackery! As brawn and brash as any man!”
Then, and only then, did Gloria move. She sprang to her feet and rushed across to him, a glow in her eyes he had never seen before; half-pride, half-anger. Throwing her arms about his poker-straight form, chin resting on his broad chest, she cried, “Justin Thackery, you are more a man than they! You stood firm and did the right thing! You willingly relinquished the blood-money to the man who will return it to it's rightful owners. It took more courage to face an armed man unarmed and humble yourself before him than any 'bold deed' of your father or brother ever has done or will do! My husband has moral courage...”
Suddenly, nothing that had just transpired mattered to Justin any longer. Gloria had said “my husband” with both pride and love.
~~~~~~~~
Philip stared up at the ceiling beams. Rumour had it that Warren Thackery had turned his youngest son out, with nothing more than the clothes on his back and the wife and child he loved more than life. He had not told his father yet, though he knew that the rescue of his sister and nephew from their plight would be of top priority if it were true. His only hesitance was that in addition to Gloria and William, they would have to take in Justin—a Thackery. Between himself and Thad, Philip knew there was no love lost on any man of Thackery blood and such civility that must be shown would be hard to muster. He sighed and tossed on his cot, the screams of his sisters once more playing through his mind. Gloria...and Faith. Where was Faith? Was she even alive?
Just hours later, Philip was thundering down the road, his long-legged black mare eagerly devouring up the distance. As the mid-day sun shone down on him, the mare skidded to a stop, road dust flying about in a cough-inducing cloud. Peasants scattered like startled hens only to stop and peer cautiously from fence-row and tree, window and door at the scene unfolding before them.
A leggy black-mare pirouetted in the road, the long black-cloak of her rider swishing about his knees. In his left hand, indeed his only hand (“The Avenger!” the whispered cry spread), flashed a keen saber.
Opposite him stood a Thackery...but not just any Thackery—Warren Thackery the Younger. Big, brash, ready for a brawl, Warren dwarfed the figure on the horse, even as the other sat above him from the animal's back.
Warren's steel flashed an answer to the unspoken challenge of the rider.
“Dismount coward!” he cried, stepping forward to brandish his menacing sword.
Philip answered not, but sprang lightly over the rump of his horse, startling her into a distraction in doing so. As Warren regained his composure after being nearly trampled by the creature, he leapt forward to strike at the thin figure before him. Battle engaged, the two went at it as blacksmith's beating out a plowshare.
Blood drawn! The Avenger's face mask had been stripped from his face by the deft flick of Warren's wrist. The boyish face now exposed and bleeding compelled greater pity from the populace and a number of women cried out in motherly sympathy.
Warren's eyes narrowed. He clearly recognized the upstart banker's friend. This one-armed knave must die!
A quick pary and Warren roared. It wasn't the pain of the sword prick that opened his cavernous mouth, but anger at the ability of the other. It was but a small prick to the shoulder, but it was humiliating regardless. His pause to gather himself together was not ignored by his opponent. Philip lunged in, perhaps fool-heartily, and followed his first prick with a second, deeper wound to the torso.
At this moment, a number of Thackery men-at-arms swung into view around the bend in the road. Realising that to continue his fight would lead only to his death, Philip spun about and sprinted down the village street, whistling his mare to him in the process. Throwing himself upon her back he galloped away to the cheers of the people. Had he remained longer, he would have seen the men-at-arms pelted with rocks and sharp invective names.
The day's work was not done however. As Philip slowed the mare, he saw before him a small party. A big man with a haystack of yellow hair strode along. On his shoulders sat a hefty toddler, who was busy pointing out a songbird in the trees. Beside the big man tripped a golden hair young woman. The picture was pleasant to look upon, but Philip felt a pang of worry for the small group. No telling how close behind him marched the men of the house of Thackery—or how much trouble those before him would be in if they were unfortunate enough to fall in with them.
Urging his horse forward therefore, he soon was abreast of them. His heart was pounding, his voice lost...it was his sister, of that there was no doubt. He gazed upon her, eager and yet shy. Justin began to take offense at the stare of the other. Stopping short, he demanded, “Well, sirrah?”
Philip's eyes slid to the reddening face of the other, embarrassed. But just at that moment, Gloria reached out and touched her husband's arm restrainingly... “The Avenger...”
Justin glanced at his wife then back at Philip; he relaxed slightly, but still kept a wary eye on the other. Something about the grip of his wife made him look down at her. She was pale, lips parted slightly, eyes wide...an incredulous look creeping across her face. Perplexed, Justin looked from her to Philip and back again.
Gloria took a step forward, “No...it can't be. Philip? It can't be!”
Philip flung himself off his horse. “But it is! I am alive! I and my father! You must come with me...you will be safe with us!”
As he spoke, sister and brother met in a long embrace, tears of joy and sadness mingled together with laughter and confusion. Justin at last understood...and he smiled. Lifting his son from his shoulders, he held him before Philip, “William, meet your uncle, the esteemed Avenger.”
Any tension that Philip had felt concerning Justin Thackery dissolved in a burst of appreciative laughter as he realised that the other had no hard feelings and was quite content to be out from under his father's thumb. United in familial friendship, the four continued their journey, the two men walking along stoutly; Gloria and the babe on the horse.
William Gage stood with his back to the fireplace, his hands clasped behind him. Thad, still unable to move his broken jaw, sat at a desk, busily scratching figures in a ledger. Sylvia sat beside him, intently watching. Master Humphries smiled at them from across the room. Theodore Simms grinned likewise and the three fathers the room contained were all fairly certain that there would shortly be a new Mistress Simms. Thad glanced up when he heard the familiar sound of Philip's steed's hooves. Spotting the looks on the faces around him, he would have grinned if it hadn't cost him too much pain. Instead, he simply blushed and looked at Sylvia, who returned his look serenely.
Into this scene of peace and romance walked a yellow haired man with a small woman on one side, a large baby on the other, and a darkly dressed young man behind. The room became electric with a variety of emotions.
A clang of steel sounded as William Gage sprang forward, a sword in hand. Justin was clearly surprised by this greeting and heartily displeased by it.
Thad stood, grinding a page of the ledger into a wad. No doubt in his mind that the man before them was a Thackery.
Gloria calmly slid between her father's sword and her husband's chest. As she looked across the expanse of steel, she pushed it aside saying gently, “No, Father...he is not as the others.” Philip seconded the statement in a visible manner by placing his hand on Justin's shoulder in a friendly gesture. Five years of distress and separation stood between father and daughter; the space between them suddenly was closed when little William boldly walked up to his grandfather and declared, “You my Gran'sir...” Astonishment was written on nearly every face, but the fearless lad unconsciously broke down the last remaining barriers as laughter greeted the unquestioning statement. No one ever really determined how he knew the truth, but it was of no real account...
In the days to come the Simms and William Gage would have to acclimate themselves to the daily presence of a Thackery. Thad watched Justin warily, not quite able to trust him despite Philip's apparent confidence. Justin was soon made known to understand that it was his own brother who had left Thaddeaus Simms with a damaged face and therefore he tried to be particularly civil to him. William Gage accepted his son-in-law after a very few days, partly due to the apparent affection the man had for his wife, partly due to Gloria's contentment with him, and partly due to the growing worth that Justin showed himself to possess independently of these factors.
The little giant soon became indispensable to the local farmers. He gamely attached himself to a plow and pulled it, for all the horses of Duffly had been taken by the house of Thackery. His previously wasted strength found it's outlet in helping others.
Gloria remarked to her father one day, “I have never seen him so happy...finally able to do something useful..something against his father.”
“Why did he never try to stop him?” Sylvia asked the question innocently enough, not being quite as fully aware of the Thackery's cruelty as the others.
Gloria looked at the pretty girl seated beside Thad, “My dear Sylvia...as strong as Justin is, there is no possible way that he could hold out against both his father and brother. And any assumed 'treachery' on his part would have put him in peril and consequently myself and little William.”
These things were taking place in the absence of Philip, for after allowing himself a few hours to sleep, he had returned to his ever increasing activity of popping up in the most unexpected places and lashing out with lightening swiftness before retreating and hiding for an hour or a few days before he once again resurfaced in another village. Thackery's men were beginning to get spread thin about the territory in the hopes of trapping him. Warren Thackery the Elder placed ever increasing bounties on The Avenger's head. Warren the Younger ached for another chance to cross steel with the lithe one-armed youth, his pride still pricked with the point of a rapier.
That time would come sooner than either expected and in unusual circumstances.
To be continued....