dragon archives 05 - forever a dragon (7 page)

“You expect too much,” Anabel told him. “As long as she can cook and clean, she’ll make you a good wife.”

But try as he might, he could not put his expectations aside, until finally one day he realized that all the young, single maids were no longer young or single. He had given up the thought of marriage then, surprising himself with how easily he accepted the idea that he would remain a bachelor. There were a few passing fancies over the years, but no-one that he could seriously consider as an equal whom he wanted to marry. That was, until now. Despite having just met Lydia Drake, he was certain she was a woman who would prove to be more than just a pretty face. He sighed to himself. He would have enjoyed putting his theory to the test.

Lleland stopped to find his bearings. He had walked deep into the woods, and was not far from Grim’s old cottage. He tested the breeze and listened intently, then headed towards a low rise. There was a salt lick just beyond, and the wind was blowing the right direction for him to lie undetected and observe whatever creatures happened by. A half hour later he was rewarded when a small herd of deer wandered over to the lick. He watched them for a moment, then lifted his bow. He took aim and released the arrow. It was a clean shot and the creature was dead within minutes, averting any needless suffering.

Lleland skinned and cleaned the animal with a knife he kept tucked in his boot, then sliced the meat into large pieces for roasting, and wrapped them into pieces of cloth which he laid in a sack. Within a short time he was hefting the sack over his shoulder and heading back towards the city. He turned into Tottley Alley some time later and made his way to Anabel’s house, knocking and pushing the door open at the same time.

“Mother?” he called.

“In here.” He turned towards the kitchen, where he dropped his offerings on the floor. Anabel was sitting on a low stool peeling turnips, which she put aside as Lleland came in.

“Hello, dear,” she said. “Have you brought us our Christmas feast?”

“I have,” he replied with a smile. He bent down and kissed her cheek, watching as she picked up another turnip. Her hands were trembling as she applied a small knife to the pale surface.

“You’re still not sleeping,” he said.

She smiled back wearily. “It’ll pass. Dame Thornton has given me a sleeping draught.”

“You still dream of the dragon?”

“I dream of dragons, but they do not come for me. In my dreams they come for you.”

Lleland dropped to his knees before her. “I’ll kill any dragon that comes after me.”

“But that’s just it, son. They surround you, but you don’t see them.” She dropped the knife and lifted her hands to her face. “I’m worried for you,” she said. “I wish you’d leave the dragons be.”

Lleland snorted. “And allow the monsters that killed Father to live? You’re letting your fears play with your mind, Mother. How could dragons possibly surround me without me seeing them? You’ve nothing to worry about.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her head onto his shoulder as tears slid down her cheeks. “Shh,” he soothed. “You need to slow down and get some rest.” He pulled away from her as he recalled something a colleague had once said about his wife needing to escape the city. “Do you remember Rutherford?” he said. “My colleague at the university.”

Anabel nodded. “He was your Master before you graduated.”

“Yes. That’s him. He mentioned an inn in the country once, better than most. He sometimes takes his wife there when they need a break from the city. We’ll go and stay there for a few days. The clean country air will be just the thing to chase away your fears.”

“Go out of the city? Can we do that?”

Lleland laughed. “Of course. I have a little money set aside for just such a need as this. And with the college closed for Christmastide, the timing is perfect! We’ll spend tomorrow with Edith, and leave the following morning. I’ll arrange everything. You just need to be ready to go.” He rose to his feet, sure of his course of action. It was exactly what Anabel needed to chase away her thoughts of dragons.

Chapter 8

Christmas morning dawned clear and cold. Hoar frost clung to the trees, sparkling in the dull light of the winter sun. Lleland had risen later than usual, after accompanying Anabel to midnight mass the night before, and was now on his way to the house on Tottley Alley. The snow crunched beneath his feet as he walked, and cold seeped into his boots. By the time he reached the house, he could no longer feel his toes.

Edith was in the kitchen when Lleland arrived, helping Anabel and Eve prepare the Christmas feast. Eve would soon be gone, having been granted the afternoon hours off to spend with her family. Alan was seated in the parlor, perusing Father’s book.

“Ah, Lleland, there you are. How goes the teaching?” Alan was a dozen years older than Lleland, and made a good living as a wine merchant. His marriage to Edith had been his second, his first wife having passed away in childbirth. The baby had not survived either, and Alan had turned his attention to building his business until he met Edith, barely more than a child at the time. He had been instantly smitten, and within months Edith was a married woman. The first of their offspring had arrived ten months after the wedding, and Edith spent her days in perfect contentment as a devoted wife and mother.

“Teaching goes well, thank you Alan,” Lleland replied. “But my concern lies with Mother. She hasn’t been sleeping well.”

Alan nodded. “Edith’s also worried. It’s the memory of that dragon, that’s what it is.”

“I think a removal from the city may help ease her mind. I’m planning to take her away for a few days.”

“Good idea,” Alan said. “Is there anything I can do? Do you need funds?”

“Thank you, but no. I have a few arrangements to make, and will leave once we’re finished our meal.”

“Let me pay for the hire of horses, at least.” Alan dug into a purse at his side and pulled out a few coins. “Here.”

For a moment, Lleland hesitated, before holding out his hand and accepting the offering. His own funds were meager, and Alan was, after all, a member of the family. “Thank you,” he said.

“I’ll walk Anabel over in the morning,” Alan said.

Lleland nodded. “Thank you.”

By late afternoon, everyone had eaten their fill and the house was a riot of noise and laughter as children ran in and out through the door, and around the adults’ legs. Oranges and nuts were handed out, and the children grabbed their treats eagerly then scampered off to enjoy them outside. With a sigh, Anabel sat down in a chair in the parlor. She was wan, and Lleland noticed her hands shaking slightly.

“Alan will bring you to the university tomorrow morning,” he said. “Have you packed a few things to take with you?”

“Packed?” Anabel looked confused.

“I’ll help her,” Edith said. “Why don’t you go and finish your arrangements.”

He nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning, Mother.” He smiled at Edith, nodded at Alan and left the house. His first port of call was the home of Master Rutherford to discover the name and direction of the country inn. Rutherford had married into money, and despite his modest college master’s income he lived in a large house at the edge of the city. The door was opened by a footman, who stared at Lleland dispassionately before turning to fetch his master. Laughter and music rang from the hall, and a few minutes passed before Rutherford appeared. It did not take long for Lleland to apprise him of his plans, and within a few moments Lleland was in possession of the information he sought.

His next stop was the stables, where he arranged the hire of two horses: a docile pony for Anabel and a bay mare for himself. When he heard the price for the hire, he was glad he had set aside his pride and accepted Alan’s offer, since it was money he could ill afford to spend. With the arrangements made, there was nothing more to do but pack a few belongings; these included a book, carefully bound in oilcloth, his daybook and a writing kit: a small wooden box with space for ink, quills, nibs and a pen knife. He would take his bow, of course, as well as a sword, since no sensible person traveled the roads unarmed.

The blue skies of Christmas Day had vanished by the following morning, and a thick blanket of cloud hung over the city. It was drizzling steadily, and when Anabel arrived shortly after eight, wearing a thick, woolen cloak, her bonnet was already sodden with rain. Alan carried her small pack, and he tied it to the pony before helping Anabel into the saddle. He handed Lleland a small package wrapped in oilcloth. “Edith packed some food for your journey,” he said. “Travel safely, and I trust the country air will help relieve Anabel’s fears.”

“Thank you. We’ll be back within the se’nnight.”

Despite the dull, dreary weather, people were already teeming in the streets after their holiday. Lleland led Anabel through the crowds of merchants and hawkers entering the city with their wares, until they finally made it through the huge gates and beyond the city walls. Mud splashed up from the road, covering the hem of Anabel’s cloak. It was late morning when they reached the crossroads which would take them south.

“We’ve traveled more than half the distance,” Lleland told Anabel. Her cheeks were red with cold, but she smiled cheerfully.

“The city seems so far away,” she said.

The path became steeper, and the mist grew thicker, until it was impossible to see more than a few yards ahead, and Lleland gave a sigh of relief when he saw the whitewashed walls of the inn suddenly appear ahead of them. It was two storeys tall, with blackened beams criss-crossing the white walls, and a black door with a brass knob. A sign, hanging over the door, squeaked on its hinges, the faded name barely visible: D
UCK AND
B
ULL
. Lleland drew his horse to a halt and slid off the saddle, then turned to help Anabel alight.

“Go inside,” he said. “I’ll stable the horses.”

The stables were at the back of the inn, and while Lleland was leading the horses across the uneven cobbles, a hostler stepped forward to take the reins. Lleland watched for a moment as the boy led the horses into the stables, then turned back to the building. He rubbed his cold hands in an effort to warm them as he pushed open the door with his shoulder, setting a bell jangling. A quick glance around revealed a small furnished hall, with a larger one beyond. A fire blazed in the larger hall, and Lleland could see Anabel standing before it. She had shed her wet cloak, and was holding her hands out to the fire.

“Good day, Master.” Lleland turned around to see a short, portly man hurrying towards him, his balding pate shining in the light of the candle he held. “Are you the lady’s son? She said you’d be coming in a few minutes.”

Lleland nodded. “Master Seaton. We’re in need of two rooms for a few nights. What do you have available?”

“You’re in luck, Master,” the man said. “Not many travel the roads this time of year, and you have your choice of rooms. The one in the corner overlooks the gardens, with a view of the hills beyond, which I’m sure your parent would enjoy. The other offers a panoramic vista of the ranges.”

“I’ll take them.”

“Very good, Master. My wife will lead the way. And when you come downstairs, we’ll have some nice broth warmed up for you.” The man glanced over his shoulder. “Mary,” he shouted. A tall woman walked into the room a few moments later, a frown on her face.

“What you shouting for?” she said, but then she caught sight of Lleland. “We have guests?” she said. The man beamed.

“Show them to the hill rooms, my dear,” he said.

Anabel had joined Lleland as he spoke to the innkeeper, and together they followed Mary up the stairs. The first room was Lleland’s, and he dropped his small satchel of belongings on the floor before following Mary and Anabel to the second room. Like his own chamber, it was plain and simply furnished, with a narrow bed and small bedstand. A table held a ewer and basin, and there was a chair in the corner, placed near the window. As to the view, however, Lleland had to take the innkeeper’s word that the windows overlooked the hills and gardens – all he could see beyond the glass was mist. But the room was clean, and there were quilts aplenty on the bed. An empty grate was built into the wall, and Mary waved towards it.

“We don’t light the fires when there’s no guests, but I’ll send a maid to get it going.”

“Thank you,” Anabel said. She walked over to the window and glanced out, then turned to Lleland with a smile. “I think this is just what I need!”

Lleland left his mother to her ablutions as he returned to his room. It was cold, and he did not linger. The fire downstairs was calling him. He returned to the hall and glanced around. Long tables with benches beneath were arrayed in the large space, and Lleland guessed that it probably filled up at night with people from the nearby villages. He looked up as Mary walked into the room with two large bowls.

“This should warm you up,” she said, placing them on the table. The bowls were filled with steaming broth, and Lleland’s stomach growled as he waited for Anabel, who joined him a few minutes later. The soup was hot and hearty, and when he was done, Lleland sighed with satisfaction.

As Lleland had predicted, as soon as it grew dark outside the inn began to fill with farmers and laborers seeking a drink to warm their bellies after a day of work. The bell above the door jangled incessantly, bringing in a blast of cold air each time. The atmosphere grew thick and the innkeeper was kept busy carrying plates of food and tankards of stout, to the demands of his noisy customers. Lleland and Anabel sat in a corner, watching the goings-on until the crowd became too rowdy and he led her upstairs.

It was raining again the next morning when Lleland rose from his bed. The fire in his room had died during the night, and the room was cold. His fingers were stiff as he reached for his daybook and writing kit, and he rubbed his hands together before opening the journal and writing his notes for the previous day. He left the page open to allow the ink to dry, and headed downstairs with a book under his arm. The hall was much warmer than his chamber, and he pulled a chair up to the blazing fire and dropped into it with a sigh of satisfaction. The tables had been wiped clean from the night before, and as Lleland opened his book, he saw a maid carrying clean tankards to a long cupboard.