“Yes, well he said something about you that I couldn’t forgive, and things just sort of went downhill from there.” I replied.
Penelope’s face went white and her entire demeanor changed, “I appreciate you defending my honor Mort, but you don’t understand.”
“I wasn’t defending your honor exactly… he said some things about my parents, and then he mentioned how he had learned them; Which is why I need to talk to you, about the other night. When you were in his room; I know what happened and I wanted…” I tried to say, I wanted to tell you what happened after you went to sleep, but I never got there.
Her hand struck me solidly across the cheek and left a ringing in my ears. “So you were upset that he insulted your parentage! Never mind that you think I’m a whore, that’s completely understandable. You are the world’s second biggest ass! And what did you say you wanted? Were you going to ask if you could pay for an evening as well? Now that you’re about to be a high and mighty lord yourself. Go to hell Mordecai!”
She was walking away now, as I stood there trying to figure out where I had gone wrong, “Wait Penny…you’ve misunderstood me, and I still haven’t told you the full story yet!” I yelled after her.
She didn’t stop and I didn’t chase her. After a minute Rose walked over to me, “You certainly handled that well.”
“Do you ever say anything helpful? Anything sincere, to actually help someone? Or do you just sit there on your high society horse and play games with everyone?” I was mad and Rose was near at hand.
“That actually stung. Despite what you believe I care a lot. That girl of yours has been through a lot and if you love her you’ll be patient,” she actually looked sincere as she said this, her usual sly smile was gone.
“She’s not my girl,” I answered. “And she’s been through a lot more than you know. If she would talk to me I could help her.”
“I know more than you realize, and I’m telling you to be patient. Simply put, you may think you know what she’s been through but you haven’t the faintest clue. Keep barging around and you’ll only drive her away.” Rose Hightower had drawn herself up to her full height and she radiated a warning aura. I had well and truly pissed her off. “Good evening to you,” she finished and turned to head the same direction that Penny had stalked off in. I might have said she ‘flounced’ away, but a woman as high bred and well mannered as Rose Hightower never flounced.
Chapter 13
The Hunt
After the near destruction of the world by the dark god Balinthor, the ancients established a system to prevent such an event from ever occurring again. All the known bloodlines that had produced powerful wizards were catalogued and their heirs were carefully watched. Any mage born with sufficient power to create a world bridge was given a ‘protector’; although I use that term loosely. They were required to form a bond with someone, usually a trusted friend. The person bonded came to be referred to as Anath’Meridum, which meant ‘Final Pact’ in the old tongue. This guardian’s true purpose was to ensure that the mage they were bonded to would never forsake humanity and create a bridge to allow one of the gods to cross over, whether by choice or under duress. Wizards powerful enough to require bonding were called ‘Ardeth’.
The bond between a mage and their Anath’Meridum is poorly understood but it is known to link the lives of both individuals, such that if one were to die the other would immediately follow. Anath’Meridum were trained to kill their charges if they should be corrupted by the enemy or betray their oaths. Failing that, they would kill themselves, thus ensuring the safety of all.
Getting into a fight with someone is an excellent way to ensure that you will get the worst possible sleep. Someone was knocking on the door. In my head I could hear a voice saying, please please go away and let me sleep. Unfortunately reason reared its ugly head and explained to that voice in no uncertain terms that I would have to get up, since they would not go away. Reason is a bitch sometimes. “Alright, hang on!” I shouted at the door.
Benchley stood outside, “If you had left the door unbarred I could have woken you a bit more carefully sir.”
“People like you are exactly why I barred the door to begin with,” I grumbled to myself.
“Master Marcus told me to get you ready for the hunt this morning.” He had a set of riding leathers draped over one arm. I decided then and there, that if there were ever to be hunting on the Cameron estates it would have to be an afternoon affair. The idea had merit. I should probably issue a proclamation requiring all the animals to stay in bed till noon as well, to even the playing field. I tried to explain my idea to Benchley but he seemed to be related to the voice of reason that had made me answer the door in the first place. Both of them ignored me.
A quarter of an hour later I was dressed and more or less awake. Benchley had a lot of experience at this sort of thing and had come prepared. Black tea, hard bread and a bit of sausage followed him in the door, carried by Timothy. “Breakfast for you sir!” Timothy still had that gap toothed grin that always cheered me up.
Soon enough I was down at the stables where everyone was gathering. I had never been on a boar hunt, so I didn’t realize what a large production it was. The good duke had a large kennel with a variety of hunting dogs, and there were two particular kinds that would be used today. The ‘bay’ dogs would find the boar and alert us to their location. The ‘catch’ dogs would attempt to hold the boar in place, a dangerous task. Apparently it was not uncommon for one of the large mastiffs to be killed.
The Duke’s master of the hunt was a man named William Doyle, who also happened to be my friend Timothy’s father. As I came up he was explaining the lay of the land, where the boars were to be found that morning. I found out later that it was customary for him to go out before every major hunt, a ‘quest’ it was called, to find the game before the hunters rode out. I guessed he must be a masochist, since he had been up several hours before the rest of us.
Sir Kelton, the marshal was out as well and he had the grooms running back and forth, fetching horses for the participants. As was usual, we were all to be mounted on coursers, their speed being preferred for the hunt. I found myself on a dun horse and carrying a boar spear. The spear itself was interesting. The ash shaft was about six foot in length and terminated with a long leaf shaped blade that probably added another foot or so to the overall length. A small crosspiece behind the blade was there to protect the hunter. I checked the head and found my father’s mark impressed on the steel there.
Marc rode up beside me, his face flushed with excitement, “You know what to do right?!”
I shook my head, “Not a damn clue.” Apparently my remark was funny because someone behind me started laughing. Dorian had ridden up.
“I can sympathize with you my friend, I never got a taste for these sorts of adventures either,” said Dorian. “I always feel sorry for the poor boar.” Despite his position and training as a warrior Dorian had always been a gentle boy as we grew up. He often played peacemaker when others lost their temper and he had a great affection for animals.
“Just listen for the hounds Mort! When you hear the baying start you know they’ve found one, so ride quickly or you’ll be late for the kill.” My experience with killing was limited to chickens and considering how enjoyable that was I didn’t really know if I wanted to be the first to find the boar anyway.
We set out riding across the fields around Castle Lancaster, spreading out as we cantered along. Dorian and I took a position on the right hand side and soon we were more than a hundred yards from the nearest riders on either side of us. We reached the edge of the forest and then we were among the trees. The ground was dappled with spots of sunshine coming through the leaves, and a light breeze kept everything in motion.