Justin stretched to his full six feet six inches as he lay flat on his back. The oversized four-posted bed creaked under his two-hundred and twenty pounds. His curly headed son bounced happily on his middle, prattling to himself.
Justin tucked his hands under his head and picked up where he had left off to tickle little William and chuckle over the boy's enthusiastic squeals.
“And so, Warren Thackery, elder and younger, are headed off to Wishire to shake down a banker named Simms and his son—who had the gall to stand up to my brother.”
He grinned a little humourlessly at the ceiling. Then his blue eyes shifted back to where his wife stood, leaning on the window frame, listening. For the millionth time, he thought how gorgeous she was, how small, how tender...how he wished that she could love him as he wanted her to.
“Gloria...”
She turned troubled eyes on him, “And you do nothing...again.”
“Well,” he demanded, sitting up, sprawling William out across the bed, much to the little man's amusement, “what can I do? You know that the minute I try to forestall either of them, I'm likely to be in trouble deeper than the moat. I'm pretty sure that Warren would have no compunction in killing me, brother though I am...and then where would you be?”
Gloria shuddered and turned away, wrapping her arms about herself in a protective motion. She had felt Warren the Younger's eyes on her many times—and knew that the only thing forestalling him was the fact that she was his brother's wife—and that Justin would have ripped Warren apart with his bare hands if he so much as touched her uninvited.
Justin sighed, “Glory...there's more.”
She turned to look at him, wary.
Locking eyes, he said flatly, “I'm supposed to take Hugh's place...”
“No!”
“Yes...and how I'm to get out of it, I don't know. If I go, I have to collect the taxes...because if I don't, well...”
He didn't have to say it; his father's greed would dictate his action and Gloria would be a widow and William, fatherless. Either way, it was an unpleasant prospect.
“I'm not looking forward to running into this one-armed warrior, either.”
“Go unarmed,” Gloria was suddenly beside him, clinging to his arm. “A man of honour will not strike an unarmed man!”
Justin smiled a little, “You think him a man of honour?”
“I do.” Gloria spoke firmly, “Any man who dares to challenge the house of Thackery as this one has is a man of both honour and great courage.”
She did not attempt to hide her distaste for the house of Thackery. It rankled Justin a little, though he was understanding of the sentiment. He frowned grimly; then wrapped both arms around his petite, blonde wife and kissed the top of her head.
~~~~~~~~
Thaddeaus was busy adding figures at the big table in the center of the room. Meanwhile, Theodore Simms was wrangling with a stout, extremely buxom woman, who was quite insistent that her husband had not failed to pay his latest loan. She insisted that it was imperative for Master Simms to loan them another one-hundred pounds.
Master Simms' patience was nearly at it's end when the door crashed open beneath a mailed fist. Mistress Dray cried out in fright at the stern visage that immediately followed the dented door and scurried out at Governor Thackery's order. The four men-at-arms made a few rude remarks and laughed among themselves at the fleeing figure of that worthy dame.
Thaddeaus turned at the noise and locked eyes with Warren Thackery the Younger.
“That is him,” said the Younger, pointing with his chin.
The Elder's eyes swiveled about and came to rest on the form of a pudgy, freckled youth. His eyebrow shot up, an element of surprise on his face.
“This? This soft weakling?”
Naturally, Thad did not appreciate the moniker, but he bit his tongue. Rather, he moved forward with an air of humility.
“And what may I do for the Governor?” he wheezed.
It was Theodore's turn to raise an eyebrow. Stepping back unobtrusively, he watched his son while backing toward where a stout saber rested against a tall chest.
Warren the Younger suddenly pounced and seized Thad by the front of his doublet, “We want to know the identity of that one-armed accomplice of yours!
Thad stumbled along for his words, “One-armed....accomplice...what....”
Warren the Elder inserted himself into the situation. Loosing his son's grasp from the banker's clothing, he began to explain, in a deceptively calm fashion.
“There is a bit of a wager between ourselves and another...ah...gentleman...as to the identity of your one-armed friend.”
“Ah.” said poor Thad, muddled and yet a whirl of realization began to fall upon him soft as a gently falling snowflake.
Pulling himself together, he declared, with the same fool-hearty boldness that he had displayed before with a Thackery, “I am, m'lord, not in the custom of promiscuously passing out the names and occupations of my friends.”
Theodore grimaced. It was hardly a very politic refusal. The apprehension he had been feeling grew stronger. Suddenly, he was thrice glad that he had never let Thad in on the secret of the Wage's real identity.
With an exclamation of rage, Warren the Elder lashed out and backhanded the freckled face before him. Thaddeaus fell, silent. As Thackery reached down to seize the fallen form with one of his huge hands, a thin sounding voice piped up from the doorway.
“Forestall, O thou Tyrant. The banker cannot help you. He has no knowledge of the identity of the man you are seeking.”
Both Thackerys spun to look outward. Four dead men-at-arms lay in various postures of surprised death...standing in their midst was a small, black-cloaked figure. In his left hand shone a bright steel blade. His right sleeve was pinned across his breast. Beyond him, a black mare shook her mane, as if in defiance.
“You wish to know my name. Very well, how does the name Avenger strike you?”
His cheeky remark had it's intended effect as both Warren the Elder and Younger surged forward in unison, only to block the other's exit through the door. While they sorted themselves out, Philip Gage sprang lightly to horse and with a laugh calculated to add to their fury and drive to catch him, he was cantering off down the street.
Seconds after the departure of their uninvited guests, Theodore Simms and William Gage were busy packing valuables into chests. Orders went flying to the two grooms that Simms employed to hitch up wagons. The maidservant was set to tending Thad's broken jaw.
The two father's had a rather cryptic exchange while Thad listened with even more pieces lining themselves up in his head, watching his life change before his eyes.
“I regret, my friend, that it has come to this,” said Master Wage.
“As do I,” returned Master Simms, “though anything is worth it if justice is served in the end. How much do you think he knows?”
“I do not know—but I surely hope it's even less than what Thad knows.”
The two men looked over at the purple faced young man staring at them over the ministrations of the blubbering servant girl. He was glaring at them.
By the close of the day, Simms and Son, Bankers was closed. The house was dark and no one had the slightest inkling as to where the household had disappeared to.
To be continued....
Justin tucked his hands under his head and picked up where he had left off to tickle little William and chuckle over the boy's enthusiastic squeals.
“And so, Warren Thackery, elder and younger, are headed off to Wishire to shake down a banker named Simms and his son—who had the gall to stand up to my brother.”
He grinned a little humourlessly at the ceiling. Then his blue eyes shifted back to where his wife stood, leaning on the window frame, listening. For the millionth time, he thought how gorgeous she was, how small, how tender...how he wished that she could love him as he wanted her to.
“Gloria...”
She turned troubled eyes on him, “And you do nothing...again.”
“Well,” he demanded, sitting up, sprawling William out across the bed, much to the little man's amusement, “what can I do? You know that the minute I try to forestall either of them, I'm likely to be in trouble deeper than the moat. I'm pretty sure that Warren would have no compunction in killing me, brother though I am...and then where would you be?”
Gloria shuddered and turned away, wrapping her arms about herself in a protective motion. She had felt Warren the Younger's eyes on her many times—and knew that the only thing forestalling him was the fact that she was his brother's wife—and that Justin would have ripped Warren apart with his bare hands if he so much as touched her uninvited.
Justin sighed, “Glory...there's more.”
She turned to look at him, wary.
Locking eyes, he said flatly, “I'm supposed to take Hugh's place...”
“No!”
“Yes...and how I'm to get out of it, I don't know. If I go, I have to collect the taxes...because if I don't, well...”
He didn't have to say it; his father's greed would dictate his action and Gloria would be a widow and William, fatherless. Either way, it was an unpleasant prospect.
“I'm not looking forward to running into this one-armed warrior, either.”
“Go unarmed,” Gloria was suddenly beside him, clinging to his arm. “A man of honour will not strike an unarmed man!”
Justin smiled a little, “You think him a man of honour?”
“I do.” Gloria spoke firmly, “Any man who dares to challenge the house of Thackery as this one has is a man of both honour and great courage.”
She did not attempt to hide her distaste for the house of Thackery. It rankled Justin a little, though he was understanding of the sentiment. He frowned grimly; then wrapped both arms around his petite, blonde wife and kissed the top of her head.
~~~~~~~~
Thaddeaus was busy adding figures at the big table in the center of the room. Meanwhile, Theodore Simms was wrangling with a stout, extremely buxom woman, who was quite insistent that her husband had not failed to pay his latest loan. She insisted that it was imperative for Master Simms to loan them another one-hundred pounds.
Master Simms' patience was nearly at it's end when the door crashed open beneath a mailed fist. Mistress Dray cried out in fright at the stern visage that immediately followed the dented door and scurried out at Governor Thackery's order. The four men-at-arms made a few rude remarks and laughed among themselves at the fleeing figure of that worthy dame.
Thaddeaus turned at the noise and locked eyes with Warren Thackery the Younger.
“That is him,” said the Younger, pointing with his chin.
The Elder's eyes swiveled about and came to rest on the form of a pudgy, freckled youth. His eyebrow shot up, an element of surprise on his face.
“This? This soft weakling?”
Naturally, Thad did not appreciate the moniker, but he bit his tongue. Rather, he moved forward with an air of humility.
“And what may I do for the Governor?” he wheezed.
It was Theodore's turn to raise an eyebrow. Stepping back unobtrusively, he watched his son while backing toward where a stout saber rested against a tall chest.
Warren the Younger suddenly pounced and seized Thad by the front of his doublet, “We want to know the identity of that one-armed accomplice of yours!
Thad stumbled along for his words, “One-armed....accomplice...what....”
Warren the Elder inserted himself into the situation. Loosing his son's grasp from the banker's clothing, he began to explain, in a deceptively calm fashion.
“There is a bit of a wager between ourselves and another...ah...gentleman...as to the identity of your one-armed friend.”
“Ah.” said poor Thad, muddled and yet a whirl of realization began to fall upon him soft as a gently falling snowflake.
Pulling himself together, he declared, with the same fool-hearty boldness that he had displayed before with a Thackery, “I am, m'lord, not in the custom of promiscuously passing out the names and occupations of my friends.”
Theodore grimaced. It was hardly a very politic refusal. The apprehension he had been feeling grew stronger. Suddenly, he was thrice glad that he had never let Thad in on the secret of the Wage's real identity.
With an exclamation of rage, Warren the Elder lashed out and backhanded the freckled face before him. Thaddeaus fell, silent. As Thackery reached down to seize the fallen form with one of his huge hands, a thin sounding voice piped up from the doorway.
“Forestall, O thou Tyrant. The banker cannot help you. He has no knowledge of the identity of the man you are seeking.”
Both Thackerys spun to look outward. Four dead men-at-arms lay in various postures of surprised death...standing in their midst was a small, black-cloaked figure. In his left hand shone a bright steel blade. His right sleeve was pinned across his breast. Beyond him, a black mare shook her mane, as if in defiance.
“You wish to know my name. Very well, how does the name Avenger strike you?”
His cheeky remark had it's intended effect as both Warren the Elder and Younger surged forward in unison, only to block the other's exit through the door. While they sorted themselves out, Philip Gage sprang lightly to horse and with a laugh calculated to add to their fury and drive to catch him, he was cantering off down the street.
Seconds after the departure of their uninvited guests, Theodore Simms and William Gage were busy packing valuables into chests. Orders went flying to the two grooms that Simms employed to hitch up wagons. The maidservant was set to tending Thad's broken jaw.
The two father's had a rather cryptic exchange while Thad listened with even more pieces lining themselves up in his head, watching his life change before his eyes.
“I regret, my friend, that it has come to this,” said Master Wage.
“As do I,” returned Master Simms, “though anything is worth it if justice is served in the end. How much do you think he knows?”
“I do not know—but I surely hope it's even less than what Thad knows.”
The two men looked over at the purple faced young man staring at them over the ministrations of the blubbering servant girl. He was glaring at them.
By the close of the day, Simms and Son, Bankers was closed. The house was dark and no one had the slightest inkling as to where the household had disappeared to.
To be continued....