“To whom? And who would force the Lerdon family to respect it? You know the most galling aspect? Mother Lerdon claimed that my birth, my heritage as a Gloomenthrall, lowered the tone of the family, and that she didn’t envisage ever being able to marry off any of my daughters, given their tainted blood.”
“I…” Talac didn’t know what to say. “Have you considered contacting your cousin in the White Isles and your sister in Halcyon to tell them of your situation, and perhaps request their husbands severe their connection? Shipping merchants are a dime a dozen, I expect they could easily shift their business to one of the Lerdon’s competitors.”
“No, I…” A smile suddenly tilted up the edges of Petal’s pretty face, the first genuine one Talac had witnessed since she’d sat down beside him. “It would be a petty act. Though I must admit I have gotten behind when it comes to my correspondence of late. Please excuse me. I have some letters to write.”
Talac watched Petal Lerdon hurry away, wiping his mouth, pushing his empty plate away before rising to his feet. Time to fetch his horse. The sun would be breaking the horizon within the next half hour and he was intent on being ready and waiting in the Keep’s entrance courtyard to witness the raising of the portcullis across the way and the arrival of the Beast.
Striding towards the stairs, a pretty brunette sidled up beside Talac, introducing herself as Lady Margen Dunphrey, niece of Baron Gloomenthrall, and discarded wife. Talac had barely given her a nod of acknowledgment before she launched into a story of how she came to be repudiated by her husband, and the circumstances that led her back to the Keep. The woman surprisingly fleet of foot as she kept pace with Talac down dark corridors, up stairs, and then down stairs, before they finally emerged in the Keep’s inner courtyard, where things were surprisingly quiet, only three or four servants in evidence.
“Why did you want to come out here?” Margen interrupted her tale to enquire curiously.
“I’ll need my mount if I’m to join this morning’s hunt.”
Margen smiled, shaking her head. “Haven’t you heard? Only Gloomenthrall hunt horses are considered suitable. You’d better pray you get a calm creature. Their bite can be quite nasty. Their kick even worse. More than one gentleman has ended up being sent to the healers before the hunt has even commenced.”
Damn. Talac headed towards the tower with the wide open arched doors, his boots sounding loud on the dry cobblestones. One small mercy, sometime during the night the rain had ceased. The sky above turning from black to a lighter grey as he emerged into the muddy front courtyard. Margen peeling off, muttering goodbye as she hurried to raise her skirts high off the ground to escape them getting dirty.
Here large numbers of servants and gentlemen loitered about in groups or singularly. The stone steps leading up to the Keep rapidly filling with Gloomenthrall females who didn’t want to get their shoes or dresses muddy. His Lordship stood amongst them, looking like a hairy bush amongst a sea of summertime flowers. The group parting for Brandth to make his way down to join Talac. His friend’s forest green hunting outfit of tunic, breeches, short cape and knee high boots both sensible and reeking of quality.
Yawning, rubbing at his eyes, Brandth surveyed Talac and then the assembled masses. “You owe me. This is going to be nothing but a long, annoying, boring day of riding hither and yon chasing shadows.” Brandth had no sooner finished speaking when a drum began to beat. The noise slow at first, booming, sounding loud. The beat slowly growing in speed, getting faster and faster. The portcullis across the way rolling upwards with astonishing ease as the drumbeat hit a frenzied pace and just as suddenly ceased. The silence broken by the thud of what sounded like a hundred horses racing out from the portcullis gates. The strange fortified structure spewing forth the thundering massive creatures as if they had ascended from the bowels of hell. Most of the suitors froze in place, their expressions a combination of awe and fear. More than one gentleman yelped in shock.
The spectacle not yet completed, as without warning the horses all stopped at once. Silent. Not a hoof shifting. Not a muzzle lifting. A massive wall of horseflesh now surrounding the gentlemen who had gathered for the hunt. All the servants having retreated to line the walls of the Keep at the sound of the first drumbeat.
“Well. Well.” Brandth eyed the ring of massive animals surrounding them, whose teeth looked large and surprisingly sharp in the light of the new day as the sun finally clipped the horizon, beaming down upon them. “Okay, I’ve changed my mind. I’m willing to concede that today will be anything but boring.”
Chapter Four
One of the riders, a drum strapped to his chest, issued a staccato burst of sound. Instantly the ring of horses dispersed. Those carrying riders to mill together off to the left, whilst about fifteen riderless mounts gathered off to the right, surrounding a burly grey-haired man who went about taking up their reins, patting muzzles and flanks casually. Another burst of quick drumming sounded, three riders erupting out of the portcullis at speed, causing many a gentleman to gasp in surprise again, more than a few flinching at the sight of the massive pitch black horses bearing down upon them.
Five feet from the suitors the animals came to a halt, the three riders dismounting in showy unison. Talac recognised the trio from the previous evening, given their height and the way they moved. The towering Beast with their two lieutenants. Once more dressed in all black, though their flowing hooded capes were a lightweight material this morning, and their tunics short sleeved. The shadows created by the raised hoods and scarves they had wrapped around their lower faces hiding every detail of their appearance once more. They made a chilling sight. If you didn’t know they were mortal, you would suspect them of being reapers in search of wayward souls.
The trio moving to stand shoulder to shoulder, their mounts looming behind them, heavy silence blanketing the Keep entrance courtyard. Only far off birds waking to the new day breaking the moment. The Beast lifted a heavy cloth bag from their belt, holding it aloft for a moment. The lieutenant standing on their left reaching up to yank down their scarf, exposing a dark bristled jawline and grim flat-lined lips.
“The Gods decide who hunts.” He intoned in a loud clear voice. Waiting a beat as the Beast made a show of reaching into the cloth bag and pulling out a wood chip, handing it over.
Glancing down at the chip, the hunt lieutenant called out a name. “Chesper Yungst.” A harsh gasp of breath sounding from amongst a nearby group of suitors, accompanied by a hissing sound issued by a fleetingly annoyed looking lady attired in a yellow dress, before she quickly managed to turn her brief scowl into a pleasant demure smile.
“Step forward.”
This went on for twenty-nine names. Of which only twelve men appeared to be present. Some looking excited. Some looking terrified. The ladies reactions alternating between horror, frustration and delight. The missing seventeen men were either still abed, claiming illness, or had fled during the night. More fearful of the hunt than of travelling through the woods in the dark.
Eyeing the fifteen riderless mounts on offer, Talac was impressed with the hunt organisers intelligence gathering skills. Only three superfluous.
Besides Talac and Brandth, a further fourteen men remained unchosen. Some looking angry. Some relieved. One looking like he wanted to kill someone.
Watching as the Beast tucked away the still half full cloth bag, Talac had the distinct impression if he didn’t act fast, he was going to be excluded. “I would like to join today’s hunt, as would Lord De’Luca.” He made sure to emphasise the word, Lord. Few liked to upset the titled, and Talac was not above using Brandth’s to get his way.
The trio of hunt leaders stilled for a moment. Perhaps no one had ever made such a request before. The Beast leaning over, whispering something in the ear of the spokesperson lieutenant who nodded and intoned. “The Gods have spoken.”
“And yet by my calculation there are fifteen available mounts for only twelve riders. We all know the Gods move in mysterious ways. Perhaps it was their intention all along for myself and his Lordship to ride today.”
“And me.” The man who’d fleetingly looked ready to kill someone when his name was not called spoke up. Slim of build, he moved like a swordsman. Several ladies smiling and waving at him in encouragement. Given his glossy dark hair and handsome features, he was clearly a favourite.
The lieutenant leaned in once more to receive whispered instructions from the Beast before pulling away and shrugging. “As you would have it.” Waiting for them to join the group of nominated hunters before continuing with his instructions. “Now choose a horse and mount up.”
The suitors eyed the brutes, their massive sizes a little daunting. Talac would have happily stepped forth but he was positioned towards the back of the group and felt like he’d already drawn enough attention to himself this morning. Finally, the man who had also been excluded from the hunt made a jeering comment, questioning the manhood of everyone at the front of the group. Resulting in a tall gangly fellow with close cut light brown hair to square his shoulders and stomp forth through the mud, heading for the nearest mount, a dappled grey. Snatching the reins away from the burly stablemaster.
Whether he yanked on the reins, or the fact that his short cloak flared upwards as he whirled to face the horse, something upset the creature. Perhaps it just didn’t like strangers. Either way, the grey lunged for the suitor, his massive teeth making a loud snapping sound as they caught nothing but the edge of his cloak. The suitor crying out, stumbling back a step before collapsing unceremoniously, landing with a loud squelch in the mud.
