The Blacksmith’s Son

Chapter 17

Penny was gathering her things, from the maid’s quarters. It wasn’t a large task, since she really didn’t have much. The two uniforms she left, her replacement might need them and they didn’t belong to her anyway. A few nightgowns, a homespun dress and a few sundries, putting them in a pile they seemed pitifully few. Up until now her life had been a long hard road. Perhaps now things would work out better. She sat down on the bed one last time and looked around the room, letting her mind drift back to the day she had first come to work there.

The vision took her without warning. A man was walking down a hallway, wearing a brown robe and something about him seemed familiar. In his hands he carried a large clay jar, and by the way he moved it must have been heavy, filled with something. She saw him enter the kitchen, a place so well known to her that she recognized it instantly. The cook looked up and him and went back to work without a word. The man was well known there. The kitchen scullions were out setting up the tables so the two were alone.

The hooded figure stepped up to the cook and said something but she couldn’t make it out. With a nod the cook stepped out, taking the back door to fetch something from the small garden outside. Once he had gone the man drew back his hood and opened his jar. She recognized him then, and wondered why she was seeing him there. Lifting the jar he poured the contents into a large pot where the soup was simmering, and something told her it was nothing wholesome in that jar.

The vision shifted then, and she felt somehow that it was several hours later. It was the ball and people were dancing, but something was wrong. She saw herself in a long gown, dancing with Lord Devon and he was laughing, as if at some joke she had just told. Around them people began to double over, retching. Blood was on the floor and people were crying in pain. Devon leaned over to kiss her… and she screamed.

She woke then, still screaming, her face damp with sweat. Not again! she thought. This can’t be happening. Then she remembered Father Tonnsdale’s story. The night everyone had died at Cameron Castle, and she knew what she had to do. Goddess forgive me!

She left her things on the bed. She knew the events of her vision were still some time in the future, but she didn’t think they were too far off. Slipping into the hallway she headed for where the villain lived.

It took her only a few minutes to get there. Such a short time when you know that your life is about to change forever. Just a bit ago she had been happy, looking forward to a life she could not have imagined. She should have known it was too good to be true. She took a moment to consider, she could try to warn everyone, but no one would believe her. That would only leave the killer to find some other time to work his evil. The world was not just, she knew that. Those people learned that lesson sixteen years ago, and still their murderer goes unpunished, she thought. But no longer, she would see to that.

She was almost to the door when she realized she needed a weapon. The man she meant to kill was too large to attack unarmed. She went back to the great hall and found one of the hard iron pokers used to manage the logs in the fireplace. The long black iron was heavy in her hand. She figured it would do nicely, so long as she could surprise him. She returned to the large double doors that led into the chapel. She opened them, and as she entered she put the hand holding the iron behind her back.

The chapel itself was empty, but she knew he was likely in the chambers behind the back of the altar. Her heart was beating wildly, but she kept her attention on her task. She found him in his study, leaning over his desk. A small form lay on top of it, quivering. The horror of it almost unmade her, but she held her resolve in an iron grip, a grip as hard as the iron in her hand.

“Shhh Timothy, just relax, it will be over soon. The goddess needs everything you can give.” Father Tonnsdale kept his hand on the boy’s forehead, holding him down, while the force within him drew upon the boy’s spirit. Timothy was dying, but it was necessary if he was to become the tool Father Tonnsdale needed. A small noise behind drew his attention and he was startled when he saw her enter the room.

“Penny!” he said, trying to keep his calm. “Timothy has suffered a fall, would you help me hold him? I think he’s having a seizure!” It was a poor lie, but he was sure she would believe it, at least long enough for him to salvage the situation. Two bodies would be almost as easy to hide as one after all.

He looked away from her, back to Timothy, hoping to draw her attention to the boy, while his eyes found the dagger that lay on the desk.

“Certainly Father, I’ll be glad to help you,” she stepped up behind him, and even as his hand reached for the dagger she brought the iron poker down across the back of his head. He dropped like a felled steer, sagging limply to the floor. The back of his head was crushed. She took another swing to make sure the job was done properly. Then she dropped the iron and checked to see if Timothy was alright.

He wasn’t. The boy was dead, though there were no visible marks upon him. His skin was slack, drawn, as though something had been drawn from within him, leaving him empty. The sight of the boy ate at her conscience. If only I had gotten here sooner, perhaps I could have prevented this as well, she thought. She was still in shock, numb and unfeeling, but her mind was clear.

I will hang for this, and she knew it was true. There was no evidence that the good Father was anything more than he had always appeared. Timothy’s body would prove nothing. There were no marks to show anything had been done to him. Even had there been, she was the one alive, she was the one who had just bludgeoned a priest to death. She double checked to make sure the priest was dead. No sense hanging for a crime unfinished.

No one saw me enter. That was a thought with promise. If she could hide the body she might even delay the time until the search for his killer began. She took the older man’s legs in her hands and began trying to move him. “What did you eat?” she said aloud. There was no way she could move the fat bastard very far. He had to weigh in excess of two hundred and fifty pounds. At last she settled for dragging his body behind the desk, where it could not be seen from the door. She lay Timothy beside him, though she felt bad at having to leave him there with the corpse of his murderer.

Taking the keys from the priest’s pockets she locked the study door behind her as she left, with luck it would be several days before they were found. There were no services for three days so it was possible they might not be missed for a while. Now she just needed to get out without being seen. For some reason she still had the iron poker with her, I should have left it with him, she thought. No matter, she would just replace it where she had gotten it. Trusting to luck she stepped through the double doors of the chapel and into the hallway.

Luck had apparently taken a vacation. Genevieve, the Duchess of Lancaster was passing as she exited. “Good evening your grace,” Penny said with a small curtsy.

“Good evening Penny, how is Mordecai doing?” the Duchess asked.

“Very well, thank you for asking,” she replied.

“Is that one of the fireplace tools?” Genevieve asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes your grace, I was moving the logs in the great hall, when I thought of a question for Father Tonnsdale. I forgot to put it away before I came. I’ll take care of that now.” Stupid, stupid! That was the worst lie in history! she thought.

“Did you find him? I thought I might talk with him as well…” asked the older woman.

“No, I didn’t. I’m not sure where he’s gotten off to, I’ll have to look for him later. If I see him I’ll tell him you were looking for him as well, your grace,” she replied.

“I appreciate that. Well I’ll let you get to what you were doing,” and the Duchess moved away, down the hall.

Penny went back to the maid’s quarters, along the way she stopped to throw the iron poker into one of the closets they stored cleaning supplies in. Her mind was racing despite her calm outward appearance. The Duchess saw me, she thought. When they found the body, hopefully in a few days, questions would be asked. Genevieve would remember seeing her, and she had noticed the iron in her hand. There would be no doubt now. It would lead straight to her. I’m going to hang. Her mind kept coming back to that. There was no explanation that would exonerate her. She hadn’t even found the poison. I forgot to even look for it. She considered going back, to search, but discarded the idea immediately. She couldn’t go back.

Thoughts of escape came to her. She could run, take everything she had now, and just run. But she had no money, no family to hide her, no place to go. If she told Mordecai he would probably help. That wasn’t right, he would definitely help. But what could he do? If he ran with her it would only destroy his own life. He’s the Count di’Cameron now, he’s got everything to lose, she thought, but I am nothing. I can only ruin it for him.

“I’m going to die for this, nothing can change that. The only thing I can manage is who goes with me,” she said aloud. She might not be able to avert the consequences of her actions, but she could choose who she took with her. Asking for help would only ruin her friends, but the other option was to take the opportunity to make what remained of her life count for more. If she had to choose one other person to spend her life on, the choice became simple. Having made the decision she felt a calm come over her, and she began to plan.

I was still talking to Marc and Dorian when Penny returned. I was glad to see her, Dorian was busy trying to convince me that beer would speed my recovery and Marc was offering to have several pitchers sent to the room. We were young and hadn’t had much experience with strong drink, so the thought of drinking to excess was a new and exciting concept. But I knew I was in no shape for it. Penny’s presence put the damper on their plan immediately.

“C’mon Penny, you just got engaged!” Mark suggested, using his considerable charm.

“Do you see a ring on my hand Marcus Lancaster?” she offered up the unadorned appendage for his inspection.

“Well no, but you already said yes, isn’t that cause for celebration?” He grabbed her hands and led her into a short mock dance. She couldn’t help but smile.

“Marc, don’t you dare tell anyone about this! You too Dorian!” she yelled past Marc’s shoulder.

“Penny my dear! Are you embarrassed to let people know you’re going to marry this ruffian? Perhaps you should reconsider; there are other eligible bachelors still available after all.” Marc puffed up his chest and brushed his fingers across the front of his jacket, a roguish grin on his face.

The conversation was causing Penny some consternation, and I could see it on her face though she tried to hide it. She glanced downward, as if shy, “Honestly, I’m not ready to announce it yet, I still have to tell my father and I’d rather not set everyone to talking till I’m ready.” Something about her expression didn’t ring true to me, but Marc and Dorian took her at face value.

“Let her be Marc,” Dorian put in, “weddings are important to girls, we shouldn’t spoil things for her.”

“Fine, fine, I was only teasing,” Marc answered, looking as though he had been wrongfully accused. He had been a clown since we were children.

“Dorian,” Penny said, “would you mind doing a favor for me?”

“Sure,” he answered.

“I need to talk to Rose, about the ball tomorrow and… other things. Would you mind taking a message for me? To see if she has time this evening?” She smiled sweetly at him. I wished she smiled at me like that more often.

They both left after that, and I made myself busy eating a tray of food that had been sent up for me. I considered asking Penny about her deception, I was sure she was hiding something, but Rose showed up before I could ask her.

“You didn’t have to come up right away. I would have come to see you,” Penny said.

“Nonsense, I was bored anyway,” Rose replied.

They talked for a few minutes and Penny explained what she had in mind. The Duke’s mention of the ball had apparently caught her fancy, something I would never have expected. She wanted Rose’s advice about how to appear, and other details.

“Don’t go as Mordecai’s escort, since he’s not going. Come as my companion,” Rose suggested. “You’ll draw less attention that way, and since he’s not yet known as the Count di’Cameron you’ll get more respect as my friend.”

“That’s fine,” Penny said, “It doesn’t really matter to me either way. My true concern is that I don’t have a dress. I never expected to attend an event like this, being what I am.”

Rose smiled at her, “That won’t be an issue my dear. I’m glad you called me first; I have just the thing for you. You’re close to my size anyway.” Rose Hightower was probably the tallest woman at Lancaster Castle, standing five foot eleven inches, but Penny was rather tall herself and stood close to her height. “Mordecai,” she continued, “Penny is going to need some things if you intend to keep her.”

I looked up, “What do you need?”

Rose smiled at me, “Ten gold marks should do.” I choked, that was enough to buy a farm, two if you bargained hard. My father didn’t make more than two or three gold marks in a year, if things went very well. She saw my expression, “Hand it over my lord, you aren’t living that life anymore, and if you don’t start thinking of her needs Penny is going to suffer for it.”

I counted out the money and handed it over and Rose gave me a pat on the shoulder, “That’s a good man. When I’m done you won’t regret it. Just be glad I’m not charging you for my services.”

They left then, Rose taking Penny by the arm. I swear I could hear them laughing as they walked down the hall. Once they had gotten back to the rooms Rose was staying in she proceeded to show Penny a selection of dresses. She had packed with the intention of being ready for anything.

Penny was concerned, “These are much too fine for me Rose.”

“As long as you aren’t better dressed than me, nothing is too good for you my sweet,” Rose said with a twinkle in her eye. “We might have to have the seamstresses in to raise the hem a bit, the length is ok on you, but we need to show a bit more of your ankle for the proper impact.”

“If you don’t mind my asking Rose, what will we use the money for? If you’re lending me one of your dresses surely that’s all we need?” Penny asked.

“I’m thinking of the future, particularly yours,” Rose replied. Wasting no time she sent one of the servants out to fetch a dressmaker. Once the woman had arrived she began discussing fabrics and styles. Several hours went by as Rose ordered a bewildering array of things, from blouses to garters, nightgowns and skirts. At the end she had agreed to pay the woman almost five gold marks for an impressive selection of clothes, winter and summer dresses, and even ball gowns.

“It’ll take me several weeks to manage all this milady,” the woman said.

“That’s fine, just be sure to send along the nightgowns and house-clothes first, she’ll need those as soon as possible.” Rose paid her then, never thinking to consider she might be cheated. Penny realized that she wouldn’t be. You don’t cheat nobility, not if you want more business; not if you want to continue eating.

“What’s the rest of the money for?” Penny said, and Rose gave her a sly grin, handing her the remaining money.

“I can’t take this! It's not my money,” she protested.

“You are a lady now, or soon will be. As a Countess you will need to know how to handle yourself with money. Even more so you must never be perceived as having to count pennies. Use it, waste it, make sure people see it, and don’t ever act as though you need it.” Rose gave her a serious look, “I’m not joking. Your future will rely on learning these things. As soon as you have that boy of yours wed, make sure he gives you an allowance. If people suspect he’s being cheap with you they will think he’s broke. If they think he’s broke things will get hard for him. Never let them smell blood.”

Penny could see the sense of her words, but she felt like a fraud. She had no intention of marrying Mordecai now, she would not live out the week, much less see the day those clothes Rose had ordered arrived. Yet she had to keep up the pretense. If Rose caught wind of her plan it would be all over.

They went back to the ball gowns again. “Rose, this might sound odd, but I don’t feel safe going to the ball without Mordecai, do you suppose I might… carry something?” She gave the woman an uncertain glance.

Rose understood immediately, “Oh my, I would tell you that you have nothing to fear, but I know why you feel as you do.” She went back to her closet. She returned with another dress, this one had long flowing sleeves a contrast to the others which had had close fitting sleeves. “This will do the trick, though it’s a shame, you have such pretty arms.”

In truth Penny liked the other dresses better, but function would be more important tomorrow evening, “So how do the sleeves help?” she asked.

Rose gave her a feral grin, “I take it you want to carry a dagger correct?”

Penny nodded.

“And considering your feelings, something like this probably wouldn’t be enough,” she plucked a small slender knife from her bodice.

“Do you always carry that?!” Penny was a bit shocked.

“Just because I said you were safe doesn’t mean a girl shouldn’t be prepared. But if you want to carry something more serious,” she walked over to a trunk and began rummaging before standing back up, “like this.” She held a double edged dagger with a seven inch blade, “You’ll need sleeves, big sleeves. Here let me show you.” She brought out an odd scabbard for the dagger, with several straps attached.

“So you strap it to your wrists?” Penny didn’t know what to think of this noblewoman who suddenly seemed so intimately familiar with blades.

“Ordinarily yes, but not for a dance. You’ll be lifting one arm up, to rest on a gentleman’s shoulder and your sleeve may slide back. Plus he might feel it when he touches your wrist, so the forearm is a fashion no-no.”

“Oh.”

“There are two main ways for a lady to wear something as considerable as this. The first is strapped to your leg, either the calf, or the inner or outer thigh. The calf is impractical if you wish to use it quickly, and the outer thigh will spoil the lines of some dresses. The inner thigh is my preference, but it can be awkward, especially if you’re dancing. Plus the dress needs to be designed for it, like this…” She slid her hand between the pleats of her skirt and brought out a dagger similar to the one she had gotten for Penny. A hidden slit in the dress allowed her to reach her leg.

“Good lord Rose, you’re a walking arsenal!” Penny exclaimed.

“And don’t you forget it,” Rose winked at her.

“Have you ever needed one? To use?” Penny was curious.

“Not yet, usually you can discourage even the worst of them before it comes to that, but it pays to be prepared.” Rose discussed the topic with a casual nonchalance that Penny could not help but envy.

“So how will I wear this one, so that I can dance?” Penny asked.

“Here,” Rose pointed to the inside of her upper arm. “It won’t be entirely comfortable but your partner won’t feel it and if your sleeve slides back it won’t be revealed. Put on the dress and I’ll show you how it works.” They got Penny into the dress, which took several minutes, but it fit well. “Now, we strap it to the inner side of your upper arm, with the hilt down. The sheath is built to hold it in even in that position. Show me how you will draw it if you need.”

Penny thrust her right hand up the left sleeve and grabbed for the handle. “No no!” Rose remonstrated. “You do that and he’ll be three feet back and calling for his mother to save him.”

Penny laughed at the image, “Isn’t that the point, to warn him off?”

Rose shook her head, “Not publicly, you’ll wound his pride and earn yourself a bad reputation. If you do need it you want to have the blade against his skin before he realizes it, so you can quietly make him aware of your feelings. Once he’s admitted defeat you can replace it and no one is humiliated… publicly.”

The methods Rose described suited Penny’s purpose perfectly, although she did not mean to use the blade for self-protection.

Rose went on, “As a woman you have to remember, if he catches on to your intentions you lose most of your advantage. He’s bigger, stronger, and possibly quicker. Put your hands together, gracefully… then slide them to your elbows, as if you are thinking, or perhaps cold. From there you can easily grasp the hilt.”

Penny couldn’t help but wonder how she would do that while dancing, but she didn’t dare ask. That question might be too direct, so she asked a different question. “Rose, do all noblewomen carry weapons?”

Rose snorted, “No, only the smart ones.”

“Who taught you all this?” Penny added.

“My mother,” and then she regretted it when she saw the look on Penny’s face. She had already heard of Penny’s own loss. “Penny, this may sound odd, but if you will have me, I already consider you a sister.”

Penny’s eyes misted and without thinking she hugged Rose, “I always wanted a sister,” but inwardly she already felt badly about the betrayal she knew was coming. She could only hope that Rose would someday recover once she was gone.