“Yes?” he said as he eyed the three lackeys. “You have asked for Master Onofrio?”
“I have,” I said.
“He is being sent for.” He approached and frowned at me. “May I help you in the meantime?”
“I need to visit my box in the strong-room,” I said.
He looked again at my three companions, then nodded. “Very well.” He led us toward the back of the hall, reached the door that led to the undercroft, took a lantern from the wall, and turned. “Goodman Quillifer,” he said, “you may come with me. These gentlemen may wait.”
The lackeys’ leader shouldered his way past me. “We’re coming with him.”
The Dean stared at them down his long nose. “You are most certainly not. You have not the right to enter the strong-room, and are only allowed into the hall as a guest of a member.”
The chief lackey seemed not to have a response to this, and so I followed the Dean through the door, and down a winding stone stair into the undercroft. The light of his lantern glimmered on the pillars and pale low arches that supported the hall above.
“They are robbers?” he asked.
“I know not what they are. The errand that brings them may be legitimate, but they are rude, discourteous, threatening, and armed.”
“So I have observed. Do you actually need the strong-room, or was it a pretense to get away from those ruffians?”
“I truly need to get into my box.”
He took me to the strong-room and opened the iron-strapped door with a key. He entered with his lantern, and I found my box without delay.
“Do you need me to withdraw?” asked the Dean.
“Nay. This will take but a moment.”
I found Utterback’s ring at once and put it in my pocket. Then, after a moment’s thought, I took two more of the rings I had plundered from Sir Basil’s treasure house, and then returned to the hall with the Dean.
During my time in the undercroft, the population of the hall had increased. Three strapping young journeyman had arrived along with their burly master, and stood by the fire speaking casually with the apprentices. Between them I counted three pollaxes, two great carving knives, a cleaver, and a meat axe. As the Dean closed and locked the door to the undercroft, I saw three more enter, a brawny woman and her two journeymen, each with a pollaxe.
I was not surprised. To the apprentice who had answered the door, I had made a secret sign of distress, and my asking for “Master Onofrio” was a signal that called for help. The word for Master Onofrio was even now passing from one butcher shop to the next, and the apprentices mustering under their masters and marching to the hall.
The three henchmen were looking uneasily from the apprentices to one another. While the Dean was re-hanging his lantern, I walked to one of the trestle tables that ran the length of the hall, and I took the three rings from my pocket and placed them on the table. Then—as a pair of masters entered with a train of armed apprentices—I gestured for the lackeys to join me.
They came warily. I saw they had drawn their cloaks back from the hilts of their broadswords.
“You see three rings on the table,” said I. “If you can identify the one you want, you may take it with you.”
The leader took a moment to study the rings, then pointed to Utterback’s signet, which featured a seahorse carved on blue tourmaline. At least he’d proven he was familiar with the item he sought.
“Very well,” I said. I swept all three off the table and returned them to the pocket. “Now if you will sign a receipt that I have delivered the ring as promised.”
The three looked at each other. Behind them, the door boomed as more armed men entered.
“We can’t write our names,” the leader said.
“Then you can make your marks, and I will write your names beneath.”
And calling for a piece of paper and a pen, I wrote:
We, the undersigned, have by brutal threats of violence, housebreaking, and assault, and with contemptible insult and infamous use of language, procured the signet ring of Lord Utterback from Quillifer the Younger of Ethlebight, who we acknowledge rescued it at the risk of his life from the outlaw Sir Basil of the Heugh. We acknowledge the disgrace with which our conduct has disenhanced the reputation of our virtuous employer, the Count of Wenlock.
I made two copies and presented them to the lackeys, who by now were surrounded by a half circle of armed men. The leader looked resentfully at the new arrivals, but in the center of this ring of steel, any thought of defiance had vanished, and he took the pen from my hand and made his mark. His two companions followed his example. I took the papers and the pen.
“Your names?” These being given, I wrote the names beneath the marks, then offered the pen to the members of the Worshipfull Companie. “Would anyone care to witness?”
The Dean inscribed his signature, and added his own seal, as did one of the masters. I then offered a copy of the document to the lackeys’ leader.
“You may give that to your master,” I said. Then I reached in my pocket for the rings, picked out that of Lord Utterback, and tossed it into a far corner of the room. It rang on the stone flags.
“Go snuffle for it, dogs,” I said.
The three glared at me, jaws working, hands twitching closer to the hilts of their swords. Then the leader turned abruptly and began to move in the direction of the ring. The circle around him parted but slowly, and when he was free, he walked stiffly toward his object, and refused to look behind to see whether he was followed.
“They will remember you,” murmured the Dean, close by my ear. “Maybe they will remember you too well.”
I shrugged. “Maybe in future they will remember their manners.”
The Dean looked down at the document before me on the table. “Disenhanced?” he asked.
“It’s a new word. I made it up.”
He smiled. “Will you be joining us for supper?”
“I have a friend waiting, unfortunately.”
He smiled. “Are you sure you didn’t mean ‘disfortunately’?”
The three lackeys had found the ring, and now marched for the front door—though they had to wait, because a gang of armed journeymen were filing into the hall. At last the doorway was free, and the three made their way out.
I rose, and turned to address the crowd of Butchers who had come to my aid. I thanked them for their arrival, told them the reasons they had been summoned, and expressed a willingness, should the occasion ever arise, to aid them in return. I spoke warmly of our brotherhood, and the bonds that united us; I praised their courage, and otherwise flattered them as shamelessly as I could.
“I think I will have a few of our brethren escort you home,” said the Dean.
“I should visit my box first.”
I put the document into the box, along with the two rings I’d taken, and was then accompanied home by three journeymen carrying pollaxes. I had taken a pollaxe from its display in the hall, and we four made a brave sight, soldiering on in the rain like veterans of the wars. I thanked my escort at the door, and carrying my weapon made my way up the stair to where the marchioness awaited.
She broke into a smile as I came through the door, and I was favored with the sight of those little white teeth. She had dressed while I was gone, in the style she favored in her pregnancy. Rather than wear conventional gowns with their farthingales and tight lacings, she had adopted instead an elaborate sort of dressing gown, frogged across the front with heavy braid that held the creation together. These silk and satin fantasies were just as extravagantly ornamented as court gowns, with gems and pearls and paint, but they were much more comfortable for someone in Amalie’s condition. A fact that I found more to my taste was that they didn’t require a ladies’ maid to lace her into the outfit, or unlace her afterward.