Date: Mon, 26 Jan 2009 17:47:28 -0800
From: Tom Creekmur <tcreekmur@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Way Of The Heron - Part 19
* * *
The Way Of The Heron
By C. T. Creekmur
Epilogue One
Big Lord Otter
* * *
Author's warning: This story depicts men performing sexual acts upon
one another that immature people might find shocking. If graphic
depictions of sex between men upsets you, or if you are under 21 years of
age, then DO NOT READ THIS! - go read something else!
Please understand that this is a work of fantasy and fiction, set in
a time when safe sex was unheard of. It is not intended to provoke or
promote promiscuity or abandonment of common sense where sex is concerned.
Especially in this day and age.
Though historical personages are mentioned, none of the principal
characters are based on real individuals and any similarity to such is
coincidental. This story is copyrighted (c) by the author and may not be
reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the
author.
Historical Note: This chapter happens during June of 1869. The action
takes place in the valley of the heron and in England, specifically, in and
around London, and the counties of Middlesex and Surrey.
And now, on with the story!
* * *
BIG LORD OTTER
* * *
The June sun shone warmly on the sparkling waters of the harbor at
Port Bolon. With all the ships coming and going, it was forgivable for
anyone to miss marking one coastal vessel in particular, which flew a
British flag as it was guided into a berth. The usual tasks commenced, of
making fast to the pier, dealing with the logistics of unloading some
freight and taking on more for its next port of call. As part of that
business, a messenger left the boat and made his way to the offices of the
Oceanic Bank of Oregon.
Most of what the man carried were routine ship's papers and insurance
forms that were to be checked and updated. But tucked inside the bundle
was a letter of a personal character. One that would launch a new adventure
for the heron men.
* * *
The surface of a big willow growing on the edge of Lemolo Lake
coruscated in an odd way, odd that is in any place other than the valley of
the heron. A young, red headed man stepped out of the trunk, momentarily
transformed by eldritch energies into a portal between Earth and the spirit
realm. He looked around, taking in the familiar sights.
It was not Mike O'Reilly's first time in that particular part of the
valley of the heron, along the southern shore of Lemolo Lake. He and his
partner, Richard Ardley, the owner of the Oceanic Bank of Oregon, had spent
many pleasant times there since their initiation into the Elxa tribe,
staying with the two men who made their home nearby. A path marked by knee
high standing stones led away from the tree Mike had exited. Some of the
stones had a glyph carved on them that he knew well. It was the same
graceful sign that was etched onto a small stone pendant he wore.
Following the upward sloping path, Mike came eventually to a sort of
plateau, a shelf of rock. To his right was a large hot spring, welling from
a fissure in the ground. Originally little more than a puddle in a low spot
of the plateau, it had been improved by the addition of a mortared stone
wall that contained its sparkling waters. The good-sized, four foot deep
pool steamed merrily and looked quite inviting, but Mike had a task to
perform before he could think of relaxing.
The back of the stone ledge was defined by a wall of cracked and
broken rock, a little over the height of a man. That was the source of the
stone used to build around the hot spring, as well as the bottom story of a
nearby cabin. It had been built up against the face of the small cliff.
The second story, built mostly of trimmed logs, stood atop the rugged
stone foundation and extended beyond onto another flat above the small
cliff. Mike climbed a flight of stone stairs and looked around. A spacious
barn stood a discrete distance away, near the stream called Dark Fire
Creek. A large corral attached to it held a pair of horses.
Mike smiled to himself as he spied another structure beside the barn.
It sheltered a small but busy distillery, run by his heron brothers Silas
Trent and Mark Nutley. Their liquor was becoming quite popular in the area.
The general store in False Pass was beginning to have trouble keeping their
whiskey in stock, as merchants in other towns learned of the new and
excellent source of liquor and ordered supplies of it through the store at
False Pass.
This next higher patch of even ground was rather rocky in spots and
the soil that covered it was not deep. Only a few trees had found room to
put down roots there. However, the area was gifted with a lush growth of
grasses, herbs and wildflowers. Mike inhaled deeply and his nose told him
that a great amount of wild mint grew there as well.
Mike spotted the man we was looking for as he gazed across the stone
pocked field. Phil Caddell, or Big Otter as most of his Elxa brothers
called him, was reclining on a blanket spread out under the ebullient June
sunlight with his lover, Mark Nutley, also known as Dark Fire. Both men
were naked and, for a second, Mike was afraid he might be interrupting
something, but he soon saw that the men were just dozing and approached.
The smell of mint grew stronger as he neared the pair. Mike saw the
broken and crushed stems of a patch of wild Southern Oregon mint peeking
out from under the edges of their blanket, which was stained here and there
with errant gouts of semen. The men's amorous exertions had crushed the
herbs they laid on and released a veritable miasma of minty aroma to hover
over and envelop them. A small leather sack of Elxa salve lay abandoned
near the men's heads and Mike sighed inwardly, recalling the pleasures
facilitated for him by the fulvous native grease.
As Mike came closer, his eyes ran over Phil's extraordinarily hairy
and thickly muscled body. In the process, they were drawn irresistibly to
his crotch. The heron man's endowment was an amazing gift of nature, well
known and even legendary within his tribe. Even soft and relaxed, lying
stretched out across a black furred thigh, it commanded attention,
especially from manlovers like Mike. Mark's eyes fluttered open slowly as
he heard the sound of boots whispering through the tall grass.
"Hello, Mike," he yawned and stretched, completely unconcerned by the
state he was discovered in. The black haired, lanky cowboy did not have
Phil's bulk, but Mike knew the strength of Mark's arms and the stamina of
his body, remembering the times Mark had taken him, riding the redhead like
an unbroken colt over extended, sweat drenched sessions of boisterous
mansex.
"Is Phil awake?" whispered Mike as he knelt beside Mark. As he did so,
he reached to caress his heron brother's shoulder before letting his
fingers trail across the cowboy's hard chest, parting the tangle of black
hairs that grew there.
"Mmm-hum... " Phil responded, stretching as well and pulling his
lover's body to his in a slow, tight hug. After kissing the back of Mark's
neck, he blinked over it at Mike. "It's good to see you again, Mike. How's
Richard doing?"
"He's great. The bank keeps him busy, but I take his mind off it when
quitting time comes and make sure he relaxes."
"I'll bet you do," chuckled Mark.
"What brings you here?"
"Richard asked me to bring you this," Mike answered, reaching into his
coat pocket and pulling out a thick letter. As he handed it over, he added,
"It came to the bank yesterday, via a Canadian boat."
Phil grew more alert and sat up the instant he saw the sloppy blue wax
seal on the letter. He looked at the unfamiliar coat of arms stamped there,
crossed tridents against a checkered background. Then he flipped the letter
over and read what was written there.
"Who's it from?" asked Mark.
"Why, Sir Terrance Sandersfield," puzzled Phil as he eagerly opened
the envelope.
"Wasn't that the fellow you told me about? The one you met at Port
Bolon a year ago?"
"Yes, when I went there with Will. It was quite a coincidence, running
into him. He was just passing through, on his way back to England, and
retirement on his estate."
Phil ceased talking as he began reading the letter's contents.
However, it was not long before his onlooking friends could tell something
was very wrong by the changes in Phil's expression as he went through the
letter. The big man looked quite grim by the time he finished it.
"What is it, pard?" Mark asked as Phil got up and reached for his
clothes.
Mark knew all about the complicated relationship his lover had with
his family in England and the knotty problems they posed for him. All were
rooted in Phil's seemingly inevitable succession as Baron of Swansgrave,
which would make him one of the wealthest peers in that kingdom. And force
him to give up his life in the valley of the heron, a possibility Phil
dreaded.
But Mark knew the last news Phil had received, from one of his uncles,
seemed to relieve him of those worries. A new heir to the barony had been
born, displacing Phil and freeing him to stay with the Elxa. Since then,
Phil had been happier than Mark could remember and the cowboy did all he
could to keep his partner's mind off his faraway family.
"My uncle Rupert needs help," Phil began. "I have to go to him."
"Wha...?! You mean to England?"
"Yes." Phil pulled on his trousers and pushed his long cock down the
inside of one pantleg. It was a unconscious motion, something he had always
done from necessity since childhood, but the men who were watching him
found it quite an interesting and arousing gesture. Phil paused while
buttoning his fly and looked at his lover. "Will you come with me, Mark?"
"Of course! You know I'd follow you anywhere, pard!" Mark answered
emphatically. "But why? What's happened?"
"An attempt was made to poison my uncle Rupert." Phil informed his
shocked companions. "He survived, but remains quite weak. He needs me. I'm
the only one in the family he can trust right now."
"Who did it?" asked Mark as he jumped up and began to pull on his own
clothing.
"That's the most disturbing part. Terrance says the police found
evidence that Rupert's own mother was behind the attempt."
"Your grandmother? Eberhardine?"
"She's been charged with attempted murder. And given how long it took
for this letter to get here, I wouldn't be surprised if the trial was
already underway."
* * *
On the evening of the day after Phil received Terrance's letter, the
wide trunk of an enormous oak tree on the edge of a scrupulously maintained
park began glittering in a most uncommon way, forming a doorway between the
spirit realm and Earth. One by one, five men emerged from the arcane portal
and into a purple Middlesex twilight. All were well dressed, in the manner
of English gentlemen on a country outing, thanks to some remarkably fast
tailoring arraigned by their friend Richard Ardley, the banker in Port
Bolon, and four of them carried bags such as travelers used.
"Eben, Jack, are you alright?"
"If you mean to ask if we have our abilities back, Hun Tzu," Eben
responded, "I can feel that I do. Jack?"
'Yes,' the vampire's voice sounded in their minds, 'I'm my old dead
self again.' Despite the jest, Jack could feel his sanguine thirst
returning and knew he would have to hunt down an evildoer and feed before
dawn.
"Where did you say the portal would take us to?" asked Mark, looking
around.
"This is the estate of Sir Terrance Sandersfield, located in far
southwestern Middlesex." Phil replied.
The big man paused and peered through the trees. He pointed, drawing
his companions' attention to a nearby country manor house. It was the place
which Phil had determined was the source of the letter he had received and
the home of an old friend.
Though it was not as large as most other English manors, the stone
structure was well proportioned and set amid carefully maintained gardens.
The lawns stretched around and beyond it, down to the edge of the Thames,
whose broad, rippling surface was silvered by the first stars of the night.
A small ship was sailing past, a dark shape defined by red and blue lights
at its helm and stern.
"Jack, can you tell if Sir Terrance is home?" Phil asked.
Jack looked searchingly at the house, probing it with the power of his
mind. His face brightened. He turned to Phil and smiled.
"It's just as you thought," he began. "Your uncle is here."
"Rupert's still here?"
"Sir Terrance offered him his home to convalesce in." Jack turned his
face back to the house as he continued to scan the minds of those within
it. "Phil, Rupert is afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"Knowledge of his marriage and son are still not publicly known. He's
afraid whoever poisoned him will go after his family, if they know about
them."
"Where are Matilda and Thomas?"
"They are still staying with Lord St. Croix... Phil, Rupert doesn't
know who poisoned him, but he's convinced it wasn't his mother, despite all
the evidence against her."
"No one would want to acknowledge that he had so unnatural a mother,"
muttered Phil. "But Eberhardine is the only one with an obvious motive, to
keep her 'base-born' grandson Thomas from inheriting the barony."
"Let's go and see him, pard," urged Mark.
"Wait!" Jack hissed, "I just felt another mind... "
The vampire turned and looked towards the neatly gravelled lanes that
led to the entrance of the estate. Seeing that, Hun Tzu pulled his lo-pan
out of his bag and manipulated it, looking for signs of danger. He quickly
zeroed in on the same thing Jack had sensed.
"It is a minion of evil," the geomancer breathed, reading the signs
revealed to him.
"Yes," agreed Jack. "Someone is hiding near the gate, spying on Sir
Terrance's house. He's trying to gather information on Rupert."
"Is he part of the plot to kill my uncle?" asked Phil.
"I'll soon find out. Listen, I'll take care of the spy, make sure
there are no others lurking around here and then go on to London and check
Lord St. Croix's house. If I learn anything more, I can let you know
through Eben."
"Right," Eben nodded. Because of their werebeast natures, Eben knew
Jack could converse telepathically with him or his lover Zack over great
distances.
Jack seemed to disappear before his companions' eyes. Shortly
thereafter Eben flinched, his sensitive hearing having caught the stifled
death cry of the spy. He looked down the neat lane, as Jack had done
earlier, using his night vision to search for his friend.
"What is it?"
"Jack, uh, 'took care of him'," muttered Eben as the vampire spoke to
him telepathically. "Jack says the man was paid to watch the house by
someone named Adrian Singleton. He noted who came and went and at what
times. Then he reported it to Adrian. He didn't know anything more than
that."
"I've never heard of the man," Phil replied.
"Jack says he will stay on the lookout for this Adrian fellow. He's
goin' on to London and Lord St. Croix's house now, like we agreed."
"Are there any other dangers we should know about?" Phil asked,
turning to Hun Tzu.
"No. In fact... " the geomancer looked up from his lo-pan and glanced
towards the manor in mild surprise. "There is much positive energy here.
The same kind of energy that abounds in the valley of the heron!"
"What does that mean?" asked Mark. "Are there fellows here who are
like us?"
"I believe so," Hun Tzu replied, looking at the lo-pan again. "I see
no females here, only men."
"This could be interestin'!" smiled Eben.
"Well, gentlemen, shall we?" Phil invited as he gestured towards the
manor.
Hun Tzu put away his ivory geomantic instrument and the four men
crossed the finely manicured lawn, coming around to the front of the house,
which presented a stolid Georgian era facade. The gravel lane made a
graceful elliptical loop around an ornamental fountain, so coaches could
allow their passengers to alight before a wide and massive flight of stone
steps. Phil climbed them to the spacious porch before a huge door of
polished oak. He wielded the heavy brass knocker with authority. After a
minute or so, a handsome, redheaded man opened the door, plainly surprised
to see visitors.
"Can I help you, sir?"
"I am Philip Caddell. I understand my uncle Rupert is here, staying
with Sir Terrance. Rupert sent for me and I would like to see him."
"The Squire of Swansgrave?!" the nonplussed servant asked, using
Rupert's formal title. "Of course! Please come in, sir!" He swung the vast
door open wide for Phil and his companions. Then, quickly recovering his
composure, he went on in a more formal manner. "If you will wait here a
moment, sirs, I shall go and inform Sir Terrance of your arrival."
"Thank you."
As the servant left, Phil set his valise down and looked about
himself, admiring the foyer of the manor. It formed a great hall that
seemed to extend the length of the house, ending in a great gridwork of
glass that faced the west. Glancing up, he could see some of the second
floor, its rooms opening onto an open, porchlike hallway with railings that
ran all around the foyer a dozen feet above where he stood. Lighting was
provided by a number of slim pewter columns lined along the walls, each
about six feet tall and supporting globes of frosted glass. Imprisoned
within each fragile bubble were kerosene lanterns. Their simple, unadorned
style pleased Phil.
The floors were paved with white Italian marble, which gleamed as it
threw back the light of the lanterns. They also neatly complimented and
brightened the dark English oak paneling. Phil looked more closely at the
walls in open curiosity. The carvings and woodwork appeared to be a rather
florid example of Elizabethan era work. Since the manor did not seem to be
that old on the outside, Phil assumed the paneling had been rescued from
the ruin of an older house and reinstalled here quite skillfully.
Glancing to his right, Phil took in a great staircase that wound
gracefully up to the second floor, which was also executed in a tasteful
manner, and filled the northeastern corner of the manor. At the foot of the
staircase was a marble mosaic of Sir Terrance's family coat of arms. The
heraldic shield held a checkerboard of sixteen green and blue alternating
squares. Superimposed upon this colorful background were two crossed golden
tridents.
When he turned back to his fellow heron men, Phil was amused by their
expressions. Eben and Mark's mouths were open with amazement as they took
in their opulent surroundings. Hun Tzu looked impressed, but since he had
been raised by a rich and cultured Chinese noble, he was more used to
seeing lavish displays of wealth like this.
"This is rather nice," Phil chuckled to his distracted friends. "But
this is by no means a grand house!"
"You gave up a life like this to live in the valley of the heron?"
managed Eben.
"Queen Elizabeth once said, 'To be a king and wear a crown is more
glorious to them that see it than it is a pleasure to them that bear it.' I
couldn't live in this glittering world, knowing I'd always have to live a
lie and hide my true nature. So I left and luckily for me, I found a better
home... and love... "
"Oh, pard... " Mark breathed when he felt Phil's hand find his and
squeeze it familiarly. The cowboy found it enthralling that his love could
mean more to Phil than the wealth and power represented by all they saw
around them.
"Philip?" a voice called. The heron men looked towards the stairs and
saw a gray bearded, fifty-something man who had paused a few steps from the
foyer. He was looking anxiously towards the group.
"Hello again, Sir Terrance," Phil began, bowing slightly. "I hope I
look more like an English gentleman than the last time we met."
"And so you do, my boy. Quite smart. Though, egad, I suspect you will
find few others in society who can match that patriarchal beard of yours!
And you can drop the 'Sir' while we're in my home, unless you want me to
address you as 'Right Honorable Philip'."
"No, no!" protested Phil. "Terrance it is."
Terrance smiled as he descended the stairs and came over to shake
Phil's hand. "I'm so glad you've come. Are these friends of yours?"
"Yes. All from America, but quite housebroken, I assure you." Phil
ignored the surreptitious poke in the back he got from Mark for his jibe.
"This is Eben Hale, Mark Nutley, and Ch'a Hun Tzu."
"Not a very American name, eh?" Terrance asked as he shook Hun Tzu's
hand.
"Oregon is my home now, but my father was the head of the Ch'a clan,
an ancient family of Foochow, established there in the T'ang Dynasty."
"I understand. I toured the Far East years ago and I am well aware
that your people enjoyed high civilization when most of the English
nobility were illiterate and fought one another with axes!" he smiled.
"Have you eaten? I can order up a simple dinner while the servants prepare
rooms for you."
"I can't speak for the others, Terrance, but I would rather see my
uncle as soon as possible."
"I'll take you up on that offer," Mark volunteered as the others
nodded.
"Of course, of course. McCreag?"
"Yes, sir?" the first servant reappeared from a room off the foyer.
"Gentlemen, this is McCreag, my butler. Take Philip's companions in
hand, will you? Ask Gilbert to whip something up for them. Oh, and tell
Winton to prepare the two rooms past Rupert's - er, you gentlemen won't
mind sharing beds, I hope?"
"That will be quite alright, Terrance," Phil replied with a straight
face while the others laughed behind their hands. "Mark and I will share
one room, and Eben and Hun Tzu can take the other."
"Alright. McCreag, tell Winton to put Philip and his companion in the
room next to Rupert."
"Very good, sir. Will you gentlemen follow me?"
"Come with me Philip. I'm sure Rupert will be very glad to see you,"
Terrance said as McCreag showed the others into a sumptuous drawing room
and offered them cigars and drinks. "I suppose you've seen the terrible
things they are saying in the newspapers," he went on in a lower voice as
they mounted the stairs.
"The papers? No, I... I was so focused on getting here that I ignored
such things," faltered Phil. The last thing he wanted was to reveal his
means of travel. He and the others had agreed to give out generalities of a
conventional journey, by rail and steamship, if anyone asked.
"Then you're in for a shock, I fear."
"Why?" Phil asked, pausing on the stairs.
"Why?! Because of your grandmother's involvement in this sordid
affair. She's being vilified as a new Lucrezia Borgia! And the good name of
your uncle Constantine is being sullied along with hers, because he
supports her."
"But, in the letter you sent me, you said Rupert thought he was sure
Eberhardine was innocent."
"I think his mind naturally revolts at the idea that the woman who
gave him life would stoop to take it from him. But the evidence against her
seems airtight, from all that I have seen. I'm sure Rupert will arrange for
you to speak with his barrister. He has all the police reports on the
matter." They continued up the staircase and went to a door opposite it.
Terrance knocked and they heard a voice bid them enter.
Phil followed Terrance into the room, recalling the picture his uncle
had sent the year before. But the tall man who sat in a large, amply padded
armchair looked like a leaner version of that person. His gray whiskers,
neatly trimmed into mutton chops, only partly hid the gauntness of his
face. He looked up from the newspaper he had been reading, peering
curiously at the large man standing behind his friend Terrance.
"Rupert, you have a visitor... "
"I see," the squire said, standing up unsteadily. Both Terrance and
Phil rushed to support him, but he shrugged them off. "I can stand on my
own. Who are you, sir?"
"I'm Philip, your nephew. I should have sent you a picture, as you
were kind enough to send me one of yourself, Matilda and your son, Thomas."
"Philip!" he breathed. "Yes, yes! Terrance had described you to me,
the way you looked when you two met by chance in Port Bolon. I can see my
brother Montague, your father, in you... but you're so big! Life in America
certainly seems to have agreed with you!" Rupert stepped forward and they
enveloped each other in a hug. The men were the same height, but Rupert's
ordeal had caused him to shed weight. He could not match Phil's thickly
muscled figure and Phil could feel the way Rupert no longer filled out his
clothing. "I'm so glad you've come, Philip."
"I'm glad to be here. And I'll help in any way I can."
"Then come to London with me. With your support I can finally let the
world know about my marriage and son. And I have to see my family again.
Matilda writes to me every day. She says she understands my fears for her
and Thomas, but I know she'd rather be at my side, to nurse and support
me."
"Alright, Rupert," Phil agreed as he eased his uncle back down into
his chair. "We'll go to London. But tell me everything that has happened.
I want to get the true story from you, and not the papers."
"The papers! Bah!" The squire gestured angrily at his crumpled copy of
the Times. "All they print in that rag are lies! Do you know, the radicals
are using our family's misfortunes to agitate against the established order
of things, saying the 'privileges' of the nobility are the root of such
crimes. Hah! If they get their way, I doubt they will treat the poor any
better than we do, but everyone will be crushed by the taxes the government
will need to impose in order to do the job we already do, looking after
those who are dependant upon the nobility of England!"
"Don't tire yourself out before you can tell Philip what he wants to
hear, Rupert." Terrance warned.
"Alright, old friend," sighed Rupert, nodding to Terrance before
turning to his nephew. "It happened three months ago. I was visiting
Swansgrave Manor, since I prefer to live at our London house, which gives
me ample opportunities to see Matilda and Thomas, as well as avoid my
mother, who predictably was agitating for me to get married again. I had
come to see Constantine about some fine point of family business and we had
dinner together as usual. Then I retired to my room.
"Later on, while I was working on some account books, I felt hungry
again and rang for a servant to bring me another bowl of the excellent
oxtail soup we had been served at dinner for a snack. I was somewhat
surprised when Eberhardine brought to it me herself and stayed awhile to
chat. Mother was very pleasant and went to some pains to let me know how
pleased she was at my return home. I suspected she was buttering me up in
preparation for another lecture about family duties and marriage, but she
did not touch on that subject.
"Anyway, after she left, I continued working and taking a spoonful of
soup at odd intervals. The doctors say that was what saved my life. Had I
eaten the soup all at once, we wouldn't be having this conversation now.
I'm told there was a rather large dose of aconite mixed into my soup. I
fell ill from it before I could finish the bowl, and the police had the
remainder analyzed."
"Aconite... that's made from wolfsbane isn't it?"
"Yes. and the police believe Eberhardine put it in my soup."
"But where would she get it? I hope poisons aren't publicly sold at
apothecary's shops now!"
"They aren't, but there are other ways of getting it. The police found
a patch of wild wolfsbane growing near the manor, and what's more, a large
part of it had been dug up recently. The roots, you know, are the source of
the poison."
"That can't be all the evidence they have!"
"No, they also interviewed the servants and learned Eberhardine had
insisted on bringing up my snack herself. So they say she had the
opportunity of poisoning it. They also found a book in the library on wild
herbs, open to the very page describing wolfsbane and its effects."
"Still, it's all circumstantial. No one actually saw who dug up that
patch of wolfsbane, right?"
"No, there are no eye witnesses to anything the police have surmised.
Nevertheless, a charge of attempted murder has been brought against
Eberhardine, despite her tearful denials. She says when she was on her way
to me with the soup, she realized the servant had forgotten to give her a
spoon and napkins. She set the soup down in the hallway and went back to
the kitchen to get what she needed. Someone must have poisoned the soup
then, but no one except Eberhardine saw the unattended soup, so the police
are skeptical."
"I didn't think we would hang a dog on such evidence in this country!"
Phil exclaimed. "When is the trial?"
"Next week. Since the crime happened at our estate, the trial ought to
have been held at Lingfield, which as you know is the closest town. But
because of the sensational press this affair has gotten, there was a delay
while it was decided to move the trial to the main court of Surrey, at
Kingston-upon-Thames. The expected crowds can be accommodated more easily
there."
There was a knock at the open door.
"Yes, McCreag?" Terrance responded, looking at his man.
"I have shown your guests into dinner, sir."
"Very good. I'll be down directly."
"What guests?" asked Rupert.
"Friends of mine who were good enough to come with me, since they knew
I would need support," Phil responded.
"Oh? Then I'll come down too and meet them. Except for a couple of
Terrance's neighbors, I've had no public life to speak of for the last two
months."
"They're Americans," warned Terrance with a smile as Rupert got up.
"I don't care if they're Hottentots!" the squire responded, showing
some of his usual spirit. Terrance was glad and could tell that Phil's
presence was already doing his old friend good. "Hand me my stick, Philip.
I think I can manage the stairs on my own."
"Did you acquire this in India?" asked Phil as he hefted his uncle's
ebony walking stick. It was a impressive piece of native work, with cunning
designs spiraling along its length and topped with a bright brass handle.
"Yes. Have you ever seen a Penang lawyer like that?"
"Penang lawyer?" puzzled Phil.
"That's the common name for a heavy stick like this out east," Rupert
explained as he took it and stood up. "Some, heartless overseers mostly,
use them to discipline the lower castes when they get out of line."
"I would think since the Mutiny there we would see the wisdom in
treating the natives better," opined Phil.
"Memories are still too fresh," Rupert shook his head. "I'm afraid the
government is determined to punish India and her people thoroughly for
their rebellion, and for a long time to come."
Terrance led them downstairs and into the dining room, the walls and
ceiling of which were paneled like the foyer in old Tudor woodwork. The
solid oak walls were handcrafted in an antique style with a recurring
crowned rose motif. Each flowery device was framed by carvings of rope, and
wherever they crossed, they seemed to be tied together in what a bygone age
called 'true love knots'.
A colorful oriental carpet rested beneath a long oak table capable of
accommodating far more than the six men who seated themselves around one
end of it. Introductions were made all around, and Phil sat between Mark
and Eben, who were still somewhat abashed by the finery of their new
surroundings. But when Phil saw all three of his fellow heron men looking
in dismay at the numerous, neatly placed pieces of shining silverware set
before each of them, he chuckled softly to himself.
"Start at the outside and work your way in," he advised them, taking
his napkin and placing it in his lap.
"We don't use the same knife and fork for the whole meal?" asked Mark
as the others imitated him.
"Of course not. It wouldn't be civilized." Phil responded, causing his
friends to goggle at him. "Don't worry, no one's going to criticize your
table manners here," he went on, smiling as McCreag deftly filled their
Waterford crystal goblets with wine from an old bottle. "But we probably
will get invited to some formal dinners, so it might be a good idea for you
to learn the basics."
"Yes," Rupert joined in good naturedly as Phil reached for his glass
and took a sip. "We have a high tolerance for your colonial ways, but let
us amend your manners somewhat!"
"This is a very good wine, Terrance," Phil complimented.
"I should hope so. My grandfather went to a lot of trouble to get it.
He was a captain during the Napoleonic Wars and had the good fortune to
capture a French ship loaded with wine. He used his prize money to buy the
lion's share of the cargo, enough to keep himself and his descendants
delightfully pickled!"
"Oh? May I see the bottle?"
McCreag brought it over and Phil studied the old paper label, yellow
and spotted with age. Besides the plainly printed words, a scattering of
stars were also depicted.
"Chateau de Picard. 1799." Phil read. "Well, 1799 must have been a
good year for French wine, if not for France herself."
"It's good to see your sojourn in America hasn't dulled your
appreciation for the finer things." Terrance smiled. "Ah! Here's the first
course."
"First course?" muttered Mark as McCreag entered with a silver tray.
"I thought this was just a snack."
"Oh, there's more to come," Phil smiled. "You'll get just a little of
each course."
"It smells delicious," admitted Hun Tzu as small, steaming bowls of
thick, creamy soup were set before them. He reached for the outermost
spoon, then paused and looked at Phil. His heron brother smiled and
nodded, letting Hun Tzu know he had made the right choice.
"What is it?" Eben asked.
"Asparagus Peas," Phil answered, taking a spoonful. "Hmmm. And
excellently done, too."
"Yes, I am very fortunate in my cook, Gilbert." Terrance admitted as
he noticed Rupert's longing look at the food being eagerly consumed by the
younger men. "Are you feeling hungry, my friend?"
"Actually, yes. But I think I'll wait for the next course. Soup is no
longer my favorite part of dinner."
"I can understand why," Hun Tzu commiserated with him.
"How much has Philip told you?" asked Rupert.
"Only what was in your friend's letter to him. But I promise you, if
it is in our power, we will find out who did this terrible deed and see
that justice is done."
"I envy you your friends, Philip," Rupert declared as McCreag gathered
the soupbowls in preparation for the serving of the second course.
"I'd say we were both lucky, uncle. Terrance and Lord St. Croix seem
to have rendered you great services also."
"Yes," he sighed. "Clarence, Terrance and I were great friends at
Cambridge, and our foreign service careers continued to bond us despite the
distances between the places we were stationed."
McCreag reappeared with another set of silver for Rupert. Then he
distributed plates of fine Wedgewood china. Each plate held some small
toasted cheese and lamb sandwiches and a cold salad tossed with slices of
roast duck in a creamy dressing.
"How did you like that?" Phil asked his lover as the empty plates were
removed a little while later.
"Delicious," he replied, taking some wine and trying not to toss it
down like he did most liquor. "I like the whiskey Silas and I make better
than this wine," he confided in a low voice, "though it is real tasty. Is
it something special, like you said, pard?"
"Oh yes. This is a very fine old wine. I suspect one would pay fifty
pounds or more for a bottle of like quality. But I'm sure we can get you
something stronger if you want it."
"No, no! I'm not aimin' to get drunk, especially in front of your
uncle and his fancy friend!" Mark protested quietly as another set of
plates were laid before the diners.
"Marrow pudding?" Terrance smiled. Up until then he had only taken
some wine, having eaten earlier. "That is one of Gilbert's specialties!
Bring me some too, McCreag."
"Very good, sir," he replied. Soon all were enjoying the custard of
beef marrow, milk and eggs sweetened with sugar and raisins.
"What a great dessert!" Eben acknowledged for his companions.
"That wasn't dessert," Phil informed him.
"No?"
"No. Not sweet enough. When you get something really rich and sugary,
you know you've come to the end of the dinner." Phil glanced at what
McCreag brought in next and smiled. "Something like Vol-au-vent."
"What?" asked Mark as he eyed the confection set before him. Despite
the unfamiliar name, it proved to be a delicious puff pastry filled with
strawberries and whipped cream. "Wow," he began after finishing it, "I'll
bet 'Vol-au-vent' is French for 'food of the gods'!"
"Gilbert will be amused and pleased with your praise," Terrance
smiled.
"I guess some of Phil's eloquence has rubbed off on me."
"I remember now," began Rupert. "In talking with some of your old
professors and acquaintances, Philip, they recalled that you were almost
always ready with an apt verse on any occasion. What can you say about this
dinner?"
Phil thought for a moment. "I believe Lord Byron had some verses that
might apply:"
Their table was a board
to tempt even ghosts
To pass the Styx
for more substantial feasts.
I will not dwell
upon ragouts or roasts,
Albeit all human history attests
That happiness for man
- the hungry sinner! -
Since Eve ate apples,
much depends on dinner.
"Bravo!" enthused Terrance. "Lord Byron may have been 'mad, bad and
dangerous to know', as one of his mistresses famously said, but, egad, the
man could write poetry! Shall we retire to the library for cigars and
brandy?"
"Certainly," Phil said, rising. Mark whispered in his ear and Phil
grinned before turning to Terrance. "My friend wants to know where your,
ah, 'necessary facilities' are." Mark had asked for the outhouse, but Phil
softened his request.
"Come with me, Mark, I'll show you."
As Rupert and the rest moved to go to the library, Phil excused
himself long enough to go up to his room and retrieve something from his
bag. He met Mark on his return to the library.
"Pard!" he whispered excitedly. "They've got a regular bathhouse built
in here! It's got showers and everything, like the fancy hotels I've heard
of in San Francisco!"
"I look forward to using it with you," Phil returned through a smile,
adding a quick kiss before the couple entered the library. It featured a
great bay window that faced the south, allowing an unobstructed view of the
gardens and grounds that ran down to the banks of the Thames, all silvered
by moonlight.
"What do you have there, Philip?" Terrance asked, spying the object he
carried.
"Something for you and Rupert to try, if you'd like. My friend Mark is
a partner in running a distillery, and this is a bottle of his finest
whiskey."
"'Lemolo Fire Water'?" Terrance smiled as he read the label. "Oh
well," he chortled as he uncorked the bottle, "I've always believed the
best life is an adventurous one!"
Mark held his breath as Terrance filled small glasses for the group.
Terrance and Rupert were, besides Phil, the most sophisticated men he had
ever met, and he awaited their verdict on the liquor he and Silas had
labored over with anxiousness. But he could tell by the way their eyes lit
up when they tasted his whiskey that they liked it. As they were
congratulating Mark on his skills as a distiller, Eben whispered to Phil.
"Jack is callin' to me. I'll go for a walk so I can 'talk' with him
without distractions."
"Alright," agreed Phil. "Terrance, would you mind if Eben took a walk
around the grounds?"
"Of course not. I often do myself after dinner. Just let yourself back
in when you're ready, Eben. My door is never locked."
"Thank you, Terrance. I won't be long."
"Phil," Hun Tzu whispered as Eben left. "I was wondering. Should we
mention the spy to Terrance and Rupert? And Adrian Singleton as well?"
"I've been trying to think of a way to bring it up, but I fear we'd
have to explain more than we want to. Let me give it some more thought."
"Alright."
The five chatted amiably over their drinks for a half hour or so,
until Rupert gave his regrets, and retired for the evening. The rest
decided to follow him, all but Phil went outside to look for Eben. He found
his fellow tribesman on the south side of the manor, sitting on an ornate
bronze bench in a formal garden edged by beds of fragrant lavender.
That spot commanded a grand view of the nearby Thames. Another ship
was passing just then, its lamplights flickering and reflecting in the
wavering river as it glided past, its engines droning faintly. But Eben was
too deep in telepathic conversation with Jack to admire the sights. He did
acknowledge Phil though, taking his burly heron brother's hand as he sat
next to him.
"Okay, Jack," he whispered before turning to Phil. "Brace yourself.
Jack has discovered some disturbin' things."
"Like what?"
"Jack found another spy watchin' Lord St. Croix's house in London.
From his thoughts, Jack learned he too was employed by Adrian Singleton.
Phil, this Singleton fellow seems to know all about Matilda and Thomas!"
"How can that be? Rupert hasn't made his connection to her public."
"Jack isn't sure, but the spy was told by Singleton to watch the house
and especially the woman and child who were livin' there, so he must know
something."
"What were the spy's intentions?"
"He watched the house, noted who came and went, and when, and reported
it to Singleton, the same instructions the man who we found watching Sir
Terrance's house had."
"This can't be good."
"Jack agrees. He says he has looked into the house and that no one
there, Lord St. Croix, his servants or his guests, suspect that they are
being watched. Jack has used his mental gifts to heighten the suspicions of
everyone there, so they will have more care, for they do know Matilda's
position and Rupert's fears for her and his son's safety."
"Maybe one of the servants talked about Matilda, if they know about
her."
Eben cocked his head as if he were listening.
"Jack says the servants are all loyal to their lord, and have obeyed
his orders not to discuss their guest with anyone outside the house."
"Hmmm. Will Jack return here before sunrise to sleep?"
"He says he will come back and return to the spirit realm through the
tree Hun Tzu opened."
"I see. Hopefully, we will find another suitable tree in the gardens
of my family's London house. It's been a long time, but I recall one or two
good sized oaks grew there. Tell Jack if he wants to speak to us, he can
slip into our rooms later. Otherwise, I believe my uncle intends to go to
London tomorrow."
"Jack understands." Eben paused and nodded. "Thanks, Jack. See you
later," he whispered as Jack broke his link. "Well, I guess I'm ready for
bed."
"I believe our rooms are connected and the beds are large. All four of
us could... " Phil smiled, leaving his suggestion unfinished.
"Well, I'd certainly like another chance to take that pole of yours
inside of me," sighed Eben, remembering Phil's gentle love, both filling
and fulfilling, "but I don't want to intrude on you and Mark."
"Well, it was a thought. And you know Mark would welcome you and Hun
Tzu as much as I." Phil reminded his friend as they returned to the house.
They retired to their rooms. Phil found Mark waiting for him. He
kissed Phil urgently and whispered.
"C'mon, pard, let's go take a shower in that fancy bathhouse!"
Phil was more than willing to agree. Taking some towels with them, the
men quietly padded down the staircase with bare feet and headed for the
bathroom. As they reached the outer door, they were disappointed by the
sound of running water. They were about to turn back when they heard
McCreag's voice gasp.
"Oh, yes, Gilbert! Take me!"
Looking at each other in dismay, the heron men both reached for the
doorknob. Phil got there first and eased the door open. The space was
divided into two parts, and they first saw the servants' clothing hung on
pegs next to a pair of washstands. Beyond that was another room, completely
covered in white tile.
Two of the several showerheads were on, raining warm water on the
nude, undulating bodies of McCreag and another man whom the onlooking heron
men assumed was the cook, Gilbert, a black haired man whose body was well
fleeced with ebon hair. Gilbert was enthusiastically fucking his companion,
murmuring love to McCreag as they boisterously coupled. Phil urged Mark
back and closed the door quietly on the wanton scene.
"I guess we'll have to wait... "
Phil was silenced by the sound of a door opening nearby. He and Mark
heard two voices, getting louder as they approached.
"...am glad this day's done!" one voice began wearily.
"Come on, William, let's get you cleaned up."
"I certainly need it, after working in the gardens all day, but what I
really need now is some private time with you, Winton, my love... mmm... "
The unmistakable sound of a kiss ended William's words. Phil and Mark
were unable to escape and Winton and William, holding hands, came to the
door of the bath and encountered the heron men. The flustered servants, who
both appeared to be in their early twenties, let go of each other.
"Oh!" faltered one, a light brown haired man. "We didn't know anyone
was here, sir." As he was the cleaner of the two, Phil surmised he was
Winton.
"Obviously not," smiled Phil, trying to put them at ease. "We haven't
met."
"I'm Winton, McCreag's assistant, and this is William, our gardener."
"I'm Phil Caddell, and this is my friend, Mark Nutley."
"H.. how do you do, milord." The gardener faltered, realizing Phil was
the nephew of his employer's guest and another member of the English
aristocracy. He was a handsome, stocky, blonde man, rather heavily bearded
for his age. Phil thought at once how much William would attract Eben and
smiled.
"Very well, William. And you don't have to 'milord' or 'sir' me while
we're talking in private like this. I was outside earlier with one of my
friends and I must say the grounds look superb. Do you take care of them
all by yourself?"
"Mostly, er, Phil... Sometimes I hire a helper or two from the local
village, but Sir Terrance prefers to leave most of the grounds around the
house in a natural state. The remainder isn't big enough to keep two
gardeners busy full time." William looked relieved by Phil's friendly
words.
"Did you come to bathe, Phil?" asked Winton.
"Yes, but the shower is engaged."
"It's meant to hold several men at a time, Phil, if they've not shy."
"Oh, we're not shy. We just didn't want to disturb McCreag and
Gilbert."
Wondering at Phil's words, Winton opened the door a crack and looked
in; William craned his neck to see as well. Gilbert was still riding
McCreag's ass furiously, going at it 'hammer and tongs' as some might say.
After getting an eyeful of that, the mortified Winton closed the door, his
face was pure crimson as he turned it to Phil.
"Sir... I... "
"Don't distress yourself," Phil soothed. "They're doing the same thing
that Mark and I were planning on when we came down here. The same thing you
and William wanted too, right?"
"You're 'so'? Like us?" managed William, wide-eyed with surprise.
"Yes," Phil said, putting an arm around Mark for emphasis. Winton
grinned mischievously, making him look years younger.
"We join in with McCreag and Gilbert's games regularly," he explained.
"Come in with us and we can all have some fun."
"That sounds like a very good idea, Winton," Phil agreed.
Winton reached for the door, but then hesitated. "Would your other
companions be interested in joining us?"
"Yes, they would," Mark said, "I'll go get them."
"William?" Phil asked as Mark went off.
"Yes, Phil?"
"Our companion, Eben, gets quite aroused by blonde men like yourself,
so don't be surprised if he wants to get friendly with you."
"I look forward to it, after I wash this dirt off."
"I'd like to help with that, if you don't mind," Phil smiled as he
followed Winton and William into the steamy bathroom, which was about to
get a whole lot more steamier...
* * *
Quite clean and very weary, the four heron men climbed the stairs and
slipped into their rooms. Silently shedding their clothes, Phil and Mark
were moving to get into bed when they heard voices. Tip-toeing over to the
door between their room and Rupert's, they put their ears to it and
overheard Terrance reaffirming his love for Rupert.
This surprised both the heron men, despite what the servants had
shared with them as they all got to know one another better during their
group encounter in the showers. It seemed Terrance knew all about his
employees' tendencies towards mansex and asked only that they keep their
recreational activities quiet. At a minimum, that was evidence the old
knight was extraordinarily tolerate. But the ardent words Phil and Mark
were hearing showed Terrance was quite a bit more than merely tolerate of
same-sex love.
"...ever since our college days, when we were constantly together, at
our books and board and bed. We three were closer than brothers, and I
still feel great love for you, my dear Rupert, as does Clarence."
"I feel the same, I assure you. I'm glad you and Clarence understand
my feelings towards Matilda and aren't jealous."
"Jealous!? We feel like uncles towards Thomas, and will spoil him
rotten if you give us half a chance!"
"Will you come with us to London tomorrow?"
"Of course. Shall we stay with Clarence or go to your London house?"
"Oh, we can leave things to chance for the time being. But I have been
away from Lionsgate for too long, I need to at least put in an appearance
at the family mansion and make sure the servants have not allowed things to
slide."
"I thought you trusted them completely. Clarence and I helped you find
them, discreet men who... share our desires."
"I do. But they are still somewhat new at their jobs. Besides, I
intend to ready a suite of rooms for Matilda and my son. It's time for
them to enjoy the things their rank reserves for them."
"There is one thing I feel I ought to point out."
"What?"
"If you advertise your marriage and son, won't some see it as another
reason why your mother would want to kill you? You yourself have told
Clarence and I that Eberhardine would never accept your 'low-born' wife
and child."
"I suppose, but as far as I know, Eberhardine never even knew about
Matilda, so how could it make things worse?"
"You're right there I suppose. Well, I'm to bed. Sleep well, old
friend."
"I'd sleep better if you'd cuddle with me."
"Alright," Terrance promptly agreed. "But it will be difficult for me
to stop at just 'cuddling'." After some rustling noises, that told of
clothing being shed and bedcovers moving, the knight went on. "It's too bad
Clarence can't be here, so we could have a trio like in the old days... "
More rustling, perhaps a kiss, then: "Egad, Rupert, that yard of yours
gets bigger every time I see it! Here, let me... " The rest of what
Terrance had to say was oddly muffled and the eavesdropping heron men
imagined he had ducked under the bedcovers.
"Oh, Terrance... that feels so good... " sighed Rupert.
As a soft, slurping noise became audible and got louder, Phil and Mark
grinned at each other.
"I guess that explains Terrance's choice of servants!" chortled Phil,
softly.
"C'mon pard," Mark whispered, grabbing ahold of Phil's thick arm and
pulling him towards the big bed, "I wanna suck on your 'yard' some too!"
"I hope I can accommodate you, after all the energy we worked off in
the shower!"
"Soft or hard, I love havin' your cock in my mouth... or anywhere else
it can fit, pard!"
* * *
In the gray predawn hours, Jack slipped silently into the manor house
and had a chat with Phil and Mark. When Phil asked if Jack had seen that
everyone in Terrance's house had the same natures as the heron men, he said
he had, but he thought there were more important things to be concerned
about. Such as Adrian Singleton.
"Did you learn anything more about him?" asked Mark.
"After I learned all I could from reading the mind of the spy at Lord
St. Croix's house, I, er, made sure he wouldn't be spying for anyone,
anymore. Then I went to the tavern where the spies used to meet with
Adrian. I scanned the minds in the place thoroughly and though I found some
who knew Adrian by sight, none of them knew him by that name."
"Can you show us what he looks like?"
"Sure." Jack projected the image he had gotten from the spy's mind
into his friends' brains. He also planted it in the minds of Eben and Hun
Tzu, who were peacefully sleeping in each others' arms in the next bedroom.
Phil nodded.
"I don't recognize the man, but I'll stay on the alert for him."
"Good. Well, dawn's coming. I'd better get back to the spirit realm.
I'll see you in London after sundown."
"Hopefully by then, Hun Tzu will have found a suitable tree to 'open'
for us there," commented Mark.
"Yes. Thank you for your help, Jack."
"It was my pleasure," he said before going to the window. Jack easily
dropped from the second story to the ground and vanished into the nearby
woods. There was a brief shimmer of eldritch light amid the shadows of the
trees as the portal to the spirit realm opened and closed.
"Well, shall we try to get some more sleep?" Phil asked his lover.
"I'd kinda like to take another shower with you," Mark returned with a
grin.
"I'm sure that can be arraigned in the morning," Phil smiled back as
he hugged his man to him lovingly.
* * *
Breakfast the next morning was served on a patio overlooking the
orderly gardens that flowed down to the Thames, illustrating the name of
Terrance's estate: Riverview. A steady procession of boats and watermen
moved over the busy river, both up and downstream. Despite the growth of
the railroads, the rivers and canals of England remained an important
adjunct of trade.
Terrance sighed his love for the views his estate gave him and echoed
the honest prejudice of every true Englishman that the Thames was the
noblest river in Europe. Phil's friends were surprised to see their heron
brother nodding in agreement along with his uncle. The Americans were
treated to other peculiarly English convictions, such as 'one Englishman
could whip three Frenchmen' or 'that as long as they took care of their
fleet, England would never have a rival in the world', before breakfast
was served.
Gilbert displayed his culinary art with extra gusto that morning. He
stuffed his employer and his guests with juicy Bachelor's Omelets infused
with savory herbs and mouth watering Welsh Rare-bit, small sandwiches of
toasted bread stuffed with a molten, ambrosial mix of butter and fine
Cheshire cheese. Those dishes were followed by a magnificent sweet with an
odd name, an Apple Hedgehog, a sort of apple pie topped with meringue
instead of a pastry crust.
Terrance was quite pleased but also mystified as to why his cook was
so assiduous in pleasing his guests. The heron men just exchanged knowing
smiles between themselves and McCreag as they remembered their shared
shower of the previous evening. Obviously Gilbert was remembering it too.
There was also hot tea brewed from an exotic mixture of Chinese leaves
which exhaled a delicate aroma. Hun Tzu congratulated Terrance on his
taste, saying the Empress Tsze-Chi herself would feel at home there,
drinking such fine tea. The men sipped this liquid perfume from fine,
eggshell porcelain cups so thin they looked as if a harsh word would be
enough to break them. The meal was concluded when McCreag brought out a
bottle of elderberry wine and poured each man a small glass of the dark,
pungent liquid.
"Ah!" Terrance began, "I almost forgot. My gardener William is also a
brewer. He made this wine. A very old English traditional beverage, but not
to everyone's taste."
"It's delicious," Mark affirmed as the others nodded their agreement.
It did not take long thereafter for the men to ready themselves for
the journey to nearby London. William and Winton drove Sir Terrance's open
carriage through a delightfully green country of open fields edged by lines
of trees. At last they arrived at the village of Tender Bottom, a small but
prosperous place whose houses were centered around a gray stone church that
dated back to the Middle Ages.
Passing through a farmer's market, many of the people there greeted
Terrance respectfully, some by name. Since his retirement to Riverview, the
knight had been recognized as a leading member of the local gentry, and had
taken part in the activities expected from his class. These included some
positions of implied power, seeing that law and order were preserved in his
neighborhood.
Soon the group reached the newest addition to the village. It was a
small, but rather busy railway station on its western outskirts. After some
heartfelt farewells, the servants returned to Terrance's estate, while the
others boarded a train to London. Once they were settled in a private
compartment, Phil spoke to his uncle.
"Rupert, I've been going over what you've told me about the attempt on
your life. If Eberhardine did not do this, then someone else must have.
Besides the servants, who else was at Swansgrave Manor when this happened?"
"My brother Constantine, of course, but the police established the
fact that he retired to his study after dinner and did not stir forth until
after I fell ill."
"Was there anyone else?"
"Count Hermann von Trompp, a great nephew of Eberhardine's, happened
to be visiting. I understand he made himself an object of suspicion with
his imperious Germanic manner, insisting the police had no right to
question him. I believe he thought he had diplomatic immunity! Either that,
or he thought the nobility of England enjoyed the same protections, if they
can be called that, which German royalty possesses against ordinary police
investigations."
"Did he have an alibi?"
"Yes. All Hermann's bluster just wasted the constables' time. It
turned out that after dinner he went to his room and was engaged in writing
a number of letters home. The servants whom he called in for some trifles
saw what he was doing and testified as to the times, so it could not have
been him."
"I see."
"There were just two others. Your cousin Orabella, and her husband,
Reginald, Lord Eurstone, were also visiting Swansgrave Manor."
"And what were they doing during the time in question?"
"They went for a walk in the gardens after dinner. Entering a
shrubbery maze, they became lost and separated. By the time they found
their way out, they discovered the house in an uproar over what had
happened to me."
"No other guests?"
"No."
"I see." Phil pondered a bit. He looked over at his heron brothers,
then back to the two older gentlemen. "Do you trust me, Rupert?"
"Of course, my boy. Why?"
"There's something I want to share with you and Terrance, but I'm not
at liberty to reveal my sources, not yet, at any rate. Is that acceptable?"
"Certainly. What is it?" Rupert asked as Terrance nodded in agreement.
"Does the name Adrian Singleton mean anything to either of you?"
"Not I," muttered Terrance after a few moments' reflection.
"I'm not sure," Rupert began, frowning. "It seems to me that I have
heard that name somewhere before, but I can't place it... " Shaking his
head, Rupert went on. "I'll check my copy of Burke's when we get to London.
Since I've heard of him, and since the majority of my acquaintances are in
Burke's, perhaps we'll get lucky and find his name among the 'landed
gentry'!"
"I dare say if we asked, we could find a copy on this train," Terrance
chuckled. "Burke's is considered a second Bible by some Englishmen."
"What do you suspect him of, Philip?" asked Rupert.
"I have reason to believe he may be connected to your poisoning in
some way. I'm not sure how. What I do know is that he has been paying
people to watch your movements during your recuperation. Don't worry, we're
not being spied upon now." Phil added when he saw his older companions'
reactions to his news.
"Oh?" Rupert growled, gripping his heavy stick. "Show me this cad,
Philip! After my Penang lawyer has a few words with his back, we'll find
out what he knows!"
"We can't take the law into our own hands. Let me investigate this my
way."
"Very well, Philip," Rupert grumped. "But if I should encounter this
fellow on the street... Well, the bounder had best be faster than I am to
avoid my stick!"
* * *
Just before noon, they arrived at a depot in the western part of
London. Rupert went with Phil to their family's bank, the main branch of
which was conveniently placed nearby. The solid marble structure, as squat
and formal as any Roman temple might have been, had 'Swan's Trust' engraved
deeply into the stonework above the wide bronze doors. Mark knew about
Phil's financial status, of course, but Hun Tzu and Eben were astounded
when they realized the extent of the wealth Phil controlled, as a member of
the family who had founded and still owned the bank, one of the richest
private financial institutions in England.
Rupert made sure the managers met his nephew. Phil was, after all, one
of their bosses. He was a nominal member of the board of governors of the
bank, as were all male members of the Caddell family, by family compact.
Phil had once offered his opinion that his cousin Orabella ought to have a
similar position, but his uncles had assured him that such a suggestion
would never be considered seriously, and would harm Phil's reputation to
boot. Women's rights were not yet a popular idea in England, despite the
fact that a queen reigned.
Rupert also wanted to make sure his nephew would be recognized and
allowed to draw on his personal accounts. Except for Phil's occasional
withdrawals made through the Oceanic Bank of Oregon, his accounts had lain
virtually dormant for over a decade, accumulating interest and annual
allowances. After examining his accounts, Phil found himself the possessor
of a sizable fortune, enough for him to buy his own country estate anywhere
in England, had he wished to.
Phil made a withdrawal and pressed some of the money he received on
each of his heron brothers, telling them they would need it. They studied
the gold sovereigns and other coins curiously, trying to comprehend the
non-decimal monetary system, where each pound coin was worth 20 shillings,
and each shilling was worth 12 pence. Since a pound was worth about five
dollars of American money, they could think of the shillings as roughly
equal to quarters for judging the cost of things.
Since the London residence of the Caddell family had been built not
far from the main branch of their bank, the men decided to walk to it. They
strolled down a quiet, cobbled street shaded by stately elms and lined with
fancy mansions owned by families like the Caddells, whose chief homes and
estates were far from London, necessitating a house 'in town'. Rupert
seemed in high spirits and Terrance whispered to Phil that he was the
reason for it. Phil was tempted to protest that Terrance's tender nursing,
especially the kind he and Mark had overheard occurring the previous night,
had also had a positive effect on his uncle, but he let the opportunity
pass.
The Caddells' mansion, called Swan's Ease, was built partly of the
same marble blocks used to construct their bank. The foundation, corners
and window edgings of gleaming white stone contrasted starkly with the
dark, ruddy brick that filled in the spaces between the marble. Rupert
proceeded unhesitatingly through the open, ornate iron gates, guarded by a
pair of rampant, petrified lions, across the granite paved driveway, up the
wide marble front steps and rang the bell. Phil glanced around and brought
Hun Tzu's attention to a couple of large oaks in the adjoining gardens. The
geomancer nodded in silent agreement as one of the large pair of front
doors, great panels of polished oak, ponderously opened.
"Sir!" a young man cried when he saw Rupert.
"Don't be so surprised, Peter," the Squire of Swansgrave smiled as he
and the others entered the foyer. Open skylights allowed sunbeams to play
over gleaming parquet floors and polished wood walls. A pair of antique
Roman statues, senators elaborately enrobed in their togas, stood guard in
well lit niches on either side of the entrance.
"But we had no word from you... we weren't expecting... "
"Calm yourself, my boy. These gentlemen will be staying for awhile.
Please alert Alistare and see that all the bedrooms are made ready."
"Yes sir."
Rupert glanced at Phil. "Alistare is my housekeeper and chief of staff
here at Lionsgate. See him for anything you or your companions need." Phil
nodded and Rupert turned back to Peter. "I'd also like you to see this note
is delivered to Lord St. Croix," Rupert said as he took the message he had
written during his train ride from a pocket and put it in Peter's hand.
"Please do that as soon as you can."
"Yes, sir."
"Ask the cook to make us some lunch. We'll be going out again as soon
as we eat."
"I'm sorry sir, not knowing you were coming, Alistare gave Francis the
day off."
"In that case I hope Edgar didn't go off with Francis. I'll be needing
my coachman."
"Oh, he's here sir. Shall I have him bring the coach around?"
"Yes, do that." Rupert turned to his companions as Peter ran to
deliver his orders. "Leave your bags here. Peter will take care of them.
We'll go to Bicton's for lunch, then go to see my solicitor. After that we
can visit Clarence and Matilda."
"Edgar will be right around sir," Peter said breathlessly as he ran
back to his employer. "Shall I take care of these bags sir?"
"Yes, but first I have to ask, have you seen anyone suspicious hanging
around the house lately?"
"Why, no, I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary. Why sir?"
"I have good reason to believe someone is spying on me and my
friends."
"Not someone connected with what happened to you?!" Peter exclaimed in
a worried voice.
"Very possibly. They might be looking for a way to finish the job."
"Oh, sir! Should you be out in public then?" Peter asked in concern.
It was clear he cared deeply for his employer. Eben and Hun Tzu recalled
what Phil had shared with them, that Rupert's servants shared their
man-loving natures. Like those who served Terrance, and Lord St. Croix as
well, those men were deeply grateful to the peers for providing them with
a safe place to live and work and be themselves in their off hours,
insuring their utter loyalty.
"I assure you, it's alright, Peter. This is my nephew, Philip, whom
I've mentioned to you before. He and his American friends are going to
protect me until we get to the bottom of this sordid affair." A coach
rumbled to a stop before the front steps. "Peter, will Francis be back in
time to make us dinner?"
"I believe so, sir."
"Well tell him we were feasted royally by his friend Gilbert, so he'd
better be prepared to lay an equal table for my friends. And don't forget
to have that note delivered."
"I won't sir. Sir, there's something else."
"What, Peter?"
"A letter sir, from your brother. It arrived today and I was going to
send it on to Riverview. But since you're here... " Peter handed the
missive over without finishing his sentence.
"Thank you, Peter," responded Rupert as he took the envelope. "Come,
gentlemen. Our lunch awaits."
As they climbed into the coach, Mark asked Terrance what Rupert meant
by his orders to Francis. Terrance explained that the two cooks had a
friendly rivalry going and that, no doubt, Francis would have a surprise
or two for Rupert's guests when he got to show off his cookery for them.
Rupert gave Edgar an address on William III Street and they were off.
Phil smiled when he heard the street name and Mark asked why. Phil
explained that King William III was reputed to have been 'so' and was
criticized for ennobling his male lovers, though James I had done the same
and many of Charles II's bastards had received titles. One of William's
friends, whom the king created Earl of Albemarle, was so notorious that
his house, which the king visited often, was widely known as the 'Chateau
de Derriere'.
Meanwhile, Rupert opened and perused his letter. He informed the
others that his brother Constantine, the current Baron of Swansgrave, had
written to ask if Rupert was strong enough to be at the upcoming trial.
Constantine was hoping the entire family would be there to make a strong
show of support for their matriarch. The squire said he felt up to it and
Phil readily agreed to be there as well.
The busy streets of London seemed remarkably clean, given the vast
numbers of horsedrawn vehicles the men saw from their windows. A few
streetsweepers were spotted, individual units of the army that worked
ceaselessly to keep the crowded streets of the Empire's capital from
overflowing with manure. At length, they reached Bicton's, an upscale
restaurant of renown, and the coach stopped to allow its occupants to
alight upon the sidewalk.
Edgar took the squire's carriage over to a reserved area that a later
era would know as a 'parking lot'. There he would check his horses and
harnesses while chatting with the other idle drivers. Phil looked at
Terrance as they entered the restaurant.
"Unless my memory fails me, I recall that Bicton's is famous for it's
beef."
"Your memory does not fail you." Terrance affirmed. "And you'll find
their ribs to be superb."
The maitre d', recognizing Rupert, showed his party to a table that
allowed them an unobstructed view of the street. And conversely showed his
distinguished visitors off to anyone passing by. After all the sensational
press the Caddell family had gotten, Rupert's presence in the establishment
was sure to be talked about and draw others there.
Sipping glasses of fine Bordeaux from the Chateau de Palus, the
Englishmen guided their American friends through the menu which was printed
in French. Eventually, they got their orders sorted out. When Mark's
sirloin was brought to him, Phil entertained the others with the amusing
legend of how the cut of beef got its name.
"It is related by old authorities that our 'merrie monarch', King
Charles II of happy memory, once visited a manor called Friday Hall, near
the town of Chingford. He returned from the chase in nearby Epping Forest
literally 'hungry as a hunter'. In this state, he went into dinner and
beheld with delight an enormous loin of beef, done to a turn and steaming
upon the dining hall table.
"'A noble joint!' exclaimed the king. 'By St. George, it shall have a
title!' Drawing his sword, he raised it above the meat and cried, with mock
dignity, 'Loin, we dub thee knight. Henceforth be Sir Loin!'
"Now some spoilsports say this never really happened and the word
'sirloin' is a corruption of the French term for the cut of meat. But
Friday Hall still stands. And it shelters a large oak table upon which the
remarkable joint was supposed to have received its ennoblement from the
royal hands of King Charles."
After finishing their meal, they left the restaurant and signaled for
Edgar to bring the carriage over. A man approached the group as they
waited. Mark saw him first, and remembering the spies Jack had discovered,
moved to intercept him.
"What do you want?" Mark demanded.
"I'm Stanley Waterton, a reporter for the Times. Is that the Squire of
Swansgrave?"
"Yes, and I doubt he wants to speak to you."
"Are you his bodyguard?"
"One of many," affirmed Mark.
"Is there a problem?" asked Phil, coming over.
"I'm a reporter for the Times," repeated Stanley. "I was hoping I
might have a word with his lordship."
"I'm sorry, but my uncle is still recovering from his ordeal, and does
not have the stamina for an interview right now."
"Uncle? May I ask your name, sir?"
Phil managed in a few words to give the reporter a portion of what he
wanted while his party waited for Edgar. After the group left, Stanley went
into Bicton's and gleaned some more information from the maitre d', who was
pleased to tell all he knew, as long as it got a mention of his restaurant
in the papers.
After arraigning with his solicitor to make public the news about his
wife and son, and give Phil access to the police reports concerning his
grandmother's supposed crime, Rupert and his companions went on to Lord St.
Croix's home. It was a venerable mansion in the northern suburbs, located
just beyond the bounds of the old medieval walls of London, ivy-covered and
surrounded by mature apple, cherry and pear trees which no doubt had
inspired the estate's name: Fruitwood. The owner of the property was
waiting for his guests as they drew up, showing that Peter had seen to
delivering Rupert's note.
"Clarence!" Terrance greeted him, embracing.
"Terrance! And Rupert! It's so good to see you again! Welcome to my
home! Please come in!" he urged, amid much hugging and handshaking and
exchanging of names. They entered yet another grand hall where marble
gleamed and polished wood shone as Clarence turned to his old friend
Rupert. "Matilda and Thomas are waiting for you in the parlor," he informed
the squire. "We'll give you three some time alone."
"Thank you, dear friend," returned Rupert. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he
said to the rest as he went to a door off the hallway.
The others followed Clarence into his sumptuous library and chatted
for awhile. When their host mentioned he had something private to discuss
with Terrance, Phil and his fellow heron men excused themselves to take a
walk around the grounds of Fruitwood.
It did not take long for Hun Tzu to find a suitable tree and open it,
making it a doorway into the spirit realm. Phil told the others he felt
that since Rupert was safe with friends for the time being, he wanted to
make a brief visit to Swansgrave Manor, the Caddell family estate. He hoped
to find out what he could about the crime there.
The others agreed to his plan, but Eben pointed out that they ought to
have Jack with them. His telepathic gifts would quickly sort out the
situation there. They waited for Hun Tzu to go into the spirit realm and
let Jack know about the new portal, as well as their decision to take a
night train from London as soon as he arrived.
When the geomancer returned, he had a counter proposal from Jack. In
order to save time, their heron brother thought they should go on ahead and
when they got to the manor, open a tree there so Jack could join them at
nightfall. Agreeing to his suggestion, the others started back to the
house. Terrance and Clarence appeared to meet them on a brick patio.
"Terrance has told me of your suspicions, Philip," Clarence informed
him. "I've ordered my servants to keep a sharp lookout for anyone who seems
to be hanging around without good reason."
"That's a good idea, Clarence," agreed Phil.
"We also had a look through Burke's," Terrance added. "There's no
'Adrian Singleton' mentioned in it."
"Which proves he's no gentleman, whoever he is!" growled Clarence. "If
this cad did have something to do with Rupert's poisoning, I'll see him
prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law for what he did to my friend!"
"I'd like to say I'm glad I'm not the only one who holds my uncle in
such high esteem," Phil responded. He gestured at his companions. "My
friends and I are planning to visit Swansgrave Manor. I want to see the
scene of the crime for myself. I hope you'll keep an eye on Rupert and his
family while we're gone."
"Of course," agreed Terrance. "When will you be back?"
"I don't expect my investigations will take long. We'll return by the
morning train tomorrow."
"You'll have to go back to Lionsgate to collect your bags," Terrance
pointed out.
"I'll put my coach at your disposal, Philip," began Clarence. "My
driver Stephen will take care of you."
And he did. Phil was not the only heron man who noticed the way
Stephen deferred to Phil and was attentive to his needs. Mark joked easily
about it as they rode along. He said it was a good thing he and his partner
followed the Way of the Heron, without jealousy, or else he would be
constantly exhausted from fighting all the fellows off who were attracted
to Phil.
Pausing at Lionsgate long enough to get their bags and allow Hun Tzu
to open another tree in a remote part of the grounds there, the heron men
proceeded on. Stephen left them at the depot, after making sure there was
nothing more he could do for Phil or his friends. Phil made the driver
smile by assuring him his services would be required again, and soon.
The train ride was uneventful, unlike what awaited them in Lingfield,
the closest town to the Caddell estate. The station platform seemed far
more crowded and busy than normal. Phil frowned at all the unwonted
activity and summoned a conductor.
"What is all this? Has Lingfield become a metropolis?"
"No, sir. Ever since the sensational happenings at Swansgrave Manor,
the town has become the headquarters of the newspapermen who are reporting
on the story. It's brought a lot of new business to the town."
"I see," Phil muttered, tugging on his long beard as he thought
quickly. "Does this train stop at Croglin Grange?"
"Yes sir."
"My companions and I were getting off here, but I'd rather not deal
with that crowd," Phil began, gesturing to the hurly-burly going on beyond
the windows of their compartment. "How much to upgrade our tickets to
Croglin Grange?"
The conductor calculated and Phil paid him. Taking his seat again, he
told his heron brothers about a little used 'back door' to his family's
estate, a short way from Croglin Grange, the next stop on the railway. Phil
hoped it had remained overlooked by the hoard of reporters that had
descended upon the area.
Luck was with them, and as the train pulled out, leaving them alone
on the platform of the small railway station, the men took in the sleepy
village of Croglin Grange almost with a single glance. The tiny hamlet
looked to be not much bigger than the town of False Pass. It was nestled
in a forest broken only by the railroad right of way and a road that ran
north to Lingfield and south to the nearby Sussex border and beyond.
Children played games on the village green while some chickens pecked
around the perimeter, followed by a dozen or so yellow chicks. Fat ducks
swam about lazily in an old millpond and a number of black piglets snored
in a nearby sty, ripening slowly in the sun. As an example of rustic
English domesticity, Croglin Grange could scarcely be improved upon.
Phil led his companions into the village's stone church, which
appeared to be quite old. That surmise was confirmed when Phil pointed out
several curiously wrought brass plaques set in the walls. They proved upon
inspection to commemorate the lives of some of Phil's earliest ancestors.
Mark was not the only one who read the dates on the tarnished metal markers
in mild dismay.
"These folks lived almost a thousand years ago, pard!"
"Yes. I told you my family is an old one. These people lived near
here, at a former Saxon stronghold, Tyrshall, that was established on the
site of an old Roman fort. It was the seat of my family until the Tudors
came to power, about 400 years ago."
After that, the heron men left the church and started to follow an old
rutted track that branched off the main road from Croglin Grange to
Lingfield. As they trekked deeper into the English woods, which looked as
wild and untouched as those in the valley of the heron, Phil began to tell
his friends the story of his family's founding. Not far to the south, he
informed them, was the town of Battle, which began as a chapel built to
honor the dead who fell in the Battle of Hastings, which ended the
Anglo-Saxon Wessex dynasty that had ruled England for over three hundred
years.
The victorious Normans marched north from that point to invest London,
but smaller parties of men ranged to the east and west of the main army
searching for victuals and easy plunder. The commander of one of the
latter, whom old records called 'Sir Roger le Katel' became separated from
his men. Following a forest trace he stumbled onto, he chanced upon a Saxon
lady, whose fine clothing gave notice of her apparently high rank, out
pleasure riding with her chaplain.
Fortunately the sight of a man in full battle array did not frighten
the pair and they stopped when he greeted them. The lady and the chaplain
both knew Roger's tongue, and they conversed. Roger was at once smitten
with the Saxon lass, whose name was Aelfswinda, so he apprehensively
awaited their reaction to his news that the king of the English, Harold II,
had fallen in battle only the day before, and the victor, his lord, Duke
William of Normandy, was at that moment riding to London to claim the
throne of England.
When they had gotten over their shock, Aelfswinda asked what Roger was
doing there. He told the truth, that he was the captain of a foraging
party, looking for supplies. The lady bid him follow her and they returned
to Tyrshall.
As Aelfswinda began giving orders to her servants, the chaplain
explained to Roger that she was mistress of all the Norman knight could
see around him, her father having recently died. As a woman alone however,
Aelfswinda was under great pressure to marry and some of her father's
relatives had sent their sons to woo her, but the lady would have none of
them. Because of that, they had begun threatening her.
Roger instantly offered Aelfswinda his protection. She accepted it
gratefully, gesturing toward some carts being laden with food. She asked
for the knight's escort back to William's camp, so she could present her
tribute to the duke without worrying about being waylaid by another
Norman foraging party.
They reached the spot where the duke had camped for the evening safely
and Aelfswinda saluted William as her king, offering her gifts and asking
for his protection against her kin, who were seeking to take her property
from her. The lady also asked that he reward Roger, for he had treated her
with proper respect and great chivalry. William noted the way Roger was
looking at the noblewoman and commented that he was not the only one who
had made a conquest that day.
Recognizing a potential public relations coup, William agreed to take
Aelfswinda under his protection and made sure his magnanimous treatment of
the helpless Saxon heiress was spread abroad. He also made Roger
responsible for the lady's safety, a task the smitten knight accepted
gratefully. Aelfswinda accompanied William to London and helped him deal
with the divided and fretful Saxon nobles, who did not know what to expect
from their Norman conquerors, but were clearly impressed by his mercy
towards Aelfswinda.
As thanks for helping smooth his way into power, William married
Aelfswinda off to Roger in London and created the knight Baron of
Swansgrave. The new king added to Aelfswinda's estates by attaching
properties to it forfeited by owners who continued to fight against the
Normans. Eventually, the couple found themselves overseeing a great part
of southeastern Surrey, almost as joint military governors, for Roger
had by then realized his wife was a formidable woman, a spiritual
descendant of the old British warrior-queens.
While Roger was out putting down minor rebellions with his troops,
Aelfswinda was making sure the peasants who lived on their lands were being
treated fairly, so they would have no reason to rebel. This cooperation
established a firm foundation for the barony. Roger and Aelfswinda's
descendants were wise enough to continue those policies, down to the
present day, so that there were few families more respected in Surrey than
the Caddells.
As Phil's story came to an end, Hun Tzu spotted an enormous oak within
sight of the trace they followed. The geomancer paused long enough to make
the tree a portal into the spirit realm and then went through to let Jack
know of it. After Hun Tzu returned, the group went on and came to the top
of a gentle rise where they saw a small farmstead, set on the edge of a
great patchwork of fields.
"This is our gamekeeper's house," Phil explained as he moved towards
it. "The Tyrell family has lived here for at least two hundred years,
overseeing and conserving the hunting grounds of the Caddell estate."
Phil knocked at the door and a sweet faced elderly woman answered it.
"Alice?" Phil asked.
"Yes, I'm Alice Tyrell. Who are you?"
"I know it's been a long time, Alice, but I'm Philip Caddell. I used
to play in the woods with your son, Albert, and you used to scold us both
roundly when we came back for dinner covered with dirt!"
"Oh, Philip!" she gasped. "I thought you were in America!"
"I've come back to help my uncle Rupert. We, my friends and I, came
in the back way, from Croglin Grange, because of all the reporters in
Lingfield."
"Oh, those horrid newsmen!" Alice began. "Albert, his brother John
and their father are helping the other servants guard the main gate so they
can't get in."
"I'm surprised no one is guarding the back way."
"Very few know of it and it's rarely used. Oh! Where are my manners?
Please come in and have some tea, gentlemen."
"I'm afraid we don't have time," Phil said, casting a calculating
glance at the angle of the sun. "We need to get to the main house. I want
to see the scene of the crime for myself."
"Oh Philip! It's so awful what happened! Your poor grandmother has
been overcome by it all and refuses to stir from her rooms."
"What are the people saying, Alice? Do they believe Eberhardine did
this?"
"It's so true what they say, that bad times prove who your friends
are. People whom we thought devoted to the Caddell family have denounced
the dowager baroness to the press, telling all kinds of horrid stories! I
know those newsmen have tempted people with money to get what they want,
but... " Phil took the upset woman's hand and patted it.
"There, there, Alice. Don't distress yourself." Phil glanced back the
way he and his companions had come. "I know the back way is little known,
but I'll see your husband and sons are sent back here to watch it. I don't
like the idea of your being alone here, with all this madness going on."
"Thank you. I didn't want to worry them, but I was wondering what I
would do if reporters showed up here."
"I'm sorry if we frightened you."
"I wasn't frightened, Philip. I have my husband's shotgun right here
and I know how to use it!"
"It sounds like you ought to be guarding the front gate!" laughed
Phil.
"And let my husband do the cooking?" she replied in horror. "He'd
poison us all... Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say that!"
"It's alright, Alice, just a slip of the tongue. We have to get on.
Take care."
"You too, Philip. It's good to have you back. I know Albert will be
glad. He was so upset after you left, because you two were such great
friends."
Phil paused. "How is Albert? Is he well?"
"Yes. He and his brother have taken over nearly all their father's
duties as gamekeeper, though your uncle Constantine hunts very little."
"I see. Well, farewell, Alice."
"Goodbye, Philip."
As they walked away from the farmstead, Mark noted the pensive look on
his lover's face. He spoke, guessing at its cause.
"Was Albert special to you, pard?"
"Yes," he said, taking Mark's hand. "Albert was my first love, and I
was his. We explored these woods and found hiding places where no one could
disturb us while we learned how to make each other feel good. I was sorry
to have to leave him when I went off to boarding school and college. I
asked if I could take him with me as my servant, but the idea was laughed
at, since Albert knew nothing of the duties of a gentleman's man."
"So you were separated."
"Yes. I told Albert to find someone else... " Phil shook his head. "He
probably hates me now."
"How could anyone hate someone as lovable as you?" Mark grinned,
trying to cheer Phil up. "When you go lookin' for trouble, pard, you
usually find it. So don't worry. Didn't Alice say she thought her boy would
be glad to see you?"
"Yes, she did... "
"And if he wants to get frisky with you again, you go right ahead,
pard. Maybe he'll like me too and we can all three of us have a good time!"
"You!" snorted Phil. "I love you."
"And I love you. So don't worry."
"Okay," Phil sighed as the road they followed began to show signs of
greater use. As more trees crowded in to shade their path again, gravel
fill crunched plaintively under their boots. The men reached another rise
and stopped to take in the view beyond.
"Is that it?" pointed Eben.
"Damn!" Mark muttered.
Phil did not have to tell his heron brothers that they had reached
their destination. Swansgrave Manor dominated a nearby hilltop, a huge
stone structure wrought in lilac-gray granite. The seat of the Barons of
Swansgrave was ornamented in a restrained Renaissance style that avoided
an air of ostentation. Despite its size, there was something in its
proportions that prevented it from being intimidating and inspired an
atmosphere of calm majesty.
The beautiful gardens that surrounded the home of the Caddell family
helped with that, ennobling the great manor even more. A pair of parallel
lanes paved with white crushed stone were connected at intervals by circles
and ellipses filled with statues, fountains and flowers, all flowing down a
gentle slope from the grand entrance towards the road to Lingfield. At the
point where the lanes converged before going on to a great, ornate iron
gate, colored gravels had been used to create a large image of the heraldic
device of the Caddell family. Above it, a truly remarkable monumental
object stood, pointing imperatively to the cornflower blue sky.
"What in jumpin' Jehoshaphat is that!?" Mark pointed, voicing an
astonishment felt by his fellows.
"It's a genuine Egyptian obelisk, set up originally by the Pharaoh
Rameses II in Thebes, or so the scholars who can read the writing carved
on it tell us," explained Phil with a smile. "When my great grandfather
was laying out the grounds around the manor, a friend of his who had been
in Egypt suggested he get one as a monumental decoration. There was a time
when such things could be bought from the Egyptians and transported here
with relatively few problems. Many English countryhouses of the nobility
can boast of having similar embellishments brought from foreign sources."
"Is that another house?" pointed Eben. The others looked to see an
ample, dark brick structure set among trees at the far edge of the wide
grounds, opposite their position, perhaps a half mile or more away.
"Yes. That is the house reserved for the Squire of Swansgrave, the
heir to the estate. If Rupert had wished, he could have lived there."
"But he didn't want his mom buggin' him about gettin' married again,"
Mark opined.
"Nor did he want to live there without Matilda," added Phil.
"I see the guards Alice spoke of," Hun Tzu pointed.
Looking in the direction the geomancer indicated, the heron men could
see sentries armed with guns posted behind the iron gate and along the
stone wall it was set in.
Beyond the gate could be seen a small crowd. Phil guessed they were
reporters, camped out and waiting for any new developments. He looked back
at the home he had not seen for many years and sighed, feeling mixed
emotions.
"Well, let's go."
"Phil?" Hun Tzu began. "Wait. Look at this."
Not far from where they stood, where the forest ended and the
manicured grounds began, was a spot of torn up ground. It looked out of
place and there were lots of footprints around it. Hun Tzu squatted and
pointed out a plant.
"What is it?"
"Wolfsbane. There's another. Phil, this must be the patch Rupert told
you about, the one the police found and thought the poison came from."
Phil agreed and the four men looked it over. But there seemed to be
little new to learn from the ravaged patch and they left it to go on the
great house. As they approached their goal, they followed paths that
weaved sinously through beds of vibrant color and subtle fragrances.
At one point they passed a circle of rose bushes, all bearing deep,
almost bloody looking blossoms whose scent imbued the air. In the center
was a stone pedestal which bore a marble faun, forever frozen in the midst
of a dance. The face of the image was happy and he had his pipe raised to
the sky in a joyous flourish, playing a soundless tune into the fragrant
air. Hun Tzu smiled when he saw it and Eben, noticing it, asked why.
"I was just imagining he was playing the song of the heron," the
geomancer smiled.
"That statue has an interesting legend attached to it," began Phil,
pausing. "It's said that it originally stood in a rose garden at Hever
Castle, where King Henry VIII wooed his second wife, Anne Boleyn. If
only it could tell us what it overheard when those famous lovers were
together!"
"Didn't you tell me ol' Henry ended up choppin' off her head?" asked
Mark.
"'True love's course ne'er runs smoothly'," Phil quoted with a
chuckle. "Or so some poets would have us believe."
"I'll remember that the next time I see you choppin' firewood, pard!"
grinned Mark. "And give you a wide berth!"
Continuing on, the heron men arrived at the mansion's impressive
entrance, reached by a staircase crafted of incomparable Carrara marble.
Mounting the wide steps, Phil pulled on the bell by the portal forcefully.
At length, one of a pair of massive oak doors bound in bronze swung
ponderously open and a servant in green and white livery blinked curiously
at the group.
"Yes sir?"
"I am Philip Caddell. Please inform my uncle Constantine I have
arrived."
"Very good, sir... " the servant looked past them at the empty gravel
lane questioningly. "Where is the coach?"
"Coach?"
"Yes sir. We received a telegram from Squire Rupert in London,
advising us of your visit, so we sent the coach to the train station to
meet you."
"I didn't know. After witnessing the tumult in Lingfield, I decided to
go on to Croglin Grange. We walked from there through the game preserve to
get here."
"Philip?" another voice began. The servant withdrew quickly, giving
way to an older man. Despite his long, full grey beard, he bore a striking
resemblance to both Rupert and Phil. He stepped out onto the marble landing
and gripped Phil's shoulders joyously. "Philip! It's so good to see you! I
heard what you said to Cavanaugh. Did anyone see you? Were you followed?"
"I doubt it, but I pity anyone who tries it. Mrs. Tyrell is keeping
her shotgun ready!" replied Phil with a smile as he hugged his uncle to
him.
"Ha! Good woman! I should have married her myself!"
"I think you should let her husband and sons help her guard our back
door, though."
"I'll do that Philip. thank you for bringing it to my attention." The
baron looked at Phil's companions. "Are these friends of yours?"
"Lord Swansgrave, allow me to introduce my American friends, who were
good enough to accompany me here. This Eben Hale, Mark Nutley and Ch'a Hun
Tzu."
"You can call me Constantine," he insisted as he shook their hands.
"Rupert's message said you would be leaving tomorrow. Must you go so soon?"
"Until we find out who poisoned Rupert, I think I and my friends
should guard him, in case there's another attempt."
Constantine looked relieved. "So you don't think your grandmother did
this vile thing?"
"No. But I wanted to see the scene of the crime for myself."
"Of course, come in. Cavanaugh, take their bags to the guest rooms.
Are you hungry?"
"Perhaps something to drink, after that long hike from Croglin
Grange."
"Certainly. I'll have tea brought to us in the library."
As Phil spoke they entered the grand entrance hall. Phil knew it well,
so its opulence made no impression on him. But his companions were quite
stunned. Eben whispered to Hun Tzu.
"Terrance's whole house could fit in here!"
Like Riverview, the floors were covered with marble. But so were the
walls, stairs and railings. Pieces of white stone had been carved, polished
and fitted together like woodwork, up as far as three stories, it seemed.
The odd, oblong dome that appeared to float magically above it all was
gilded and elaborately painted. A bevy of naked nymphs cavorted shamelessly
around its edge, some gazing down brazenly at the nonplussed heron men as
they exhibited their feminine charms to no avail.
The visitors followed Constantine into his study, where every bit of
the woodwork, from bookshelves and wall paneling to chairs, tables and a
great, massive desk, was executed in rich, deep red Honduran mahogany,
polished to a high shine. After calling for tea, the baron told his nephew
what he knew. Later they were shown the room Rupert had occupied and the
place where Eberhardine said she left the soup unattended, in the servants'
access hallway. Phil noted that anyone might have come and gone in that
space, as there were doors everywhere.
"That's what I told the police," Constantine agreed. "This area was
made to give the servants or anyone else easy access to the whole house.
And that, of course, works both ways. An observant outsider would soon
figure out how to get from one part of the manor to another quickly and
unobtrusively by detouring through here."
They went on to see where the other guests had been, the room where
Baron von Trompp wrote his letters and then outside to see the shrubbery
maze where Lord and Lady Eurstone had gotten lost. Mounting a step ladder
left by one of the gardeners, Phil and the others got an overview of the
large and complex living construct in the last light of day. The setting
sun cast ruddy light as well as long shadows over everything.
"Well, I sure could get lost in there," Mark admitted after he had his
look.
"Is that a greenhouse?" pointed Eben. The glass structure he indicated
was framed in slender beams of fancy ironwork and multisided to the point
of looking, at first glance, as if it were round.
"Yes, a favorite place of mine to relax in," the baron began. "I try
my hand at raising tropical plants. Come in and see them."
"Didn't you build this after seeing the Crystal Palace exhibition?"
asked Phil.
"Yes. I was inspired by the new techniques in metalworking and
consulted with an architect to design this. As far as I know, it is unique.
The locals are calling it 'Caddell's Carousel'."
They entered and were at once enveloped by hot, moisture laden air.
Constantine pointed out his favorite plants. There were many varieties of
Caladiums, with thick, hairy stems and oversized, heart-shaped leaves. The
latter presented a wide range of colors and patterns. Many looked
artificial, as if brightly painted metal had been stamped out in the shape
of their leaves. Some were a pale pink-white, others so dark a purple it
looked as if blood was flowing through their veins.
Mark was intrigued by a small trellis which supported a vine covered
with tiny, blood red flowers. A nearby tag read 'Antigonon leptopus'. When
asked about it, Constantine identified the vine as a native of the
Philippines, commonly called 'Cadena de Amor', or 'Chain of Love.' When the
baron's attention turned away, Mark playfully twisted a tendril of the
plant around his fingers and took Phil's hand.
"You want to tie me up with this?" whispered Phil.
"We're already bound by chains of love, pard," Mark replied, making
his lover smile.
"Milord?"
The group looked to see the servant that had greeted Phil.
"Yes, Cavanaugh?"
"Dinner is served."
"I hope you gentlemen are hungry," the baron smiled. "I understand the
cook has something special for us, brought in by my gamekeepers after it
was learned you were on your way here, Phillip."
As they headed back to the manor, Mark licked his lips in anticipation
and Phil noted it. He grinned at his lover's newly acquired taste for fine
food, before turning to the baron. "We won't be able to dress for dinner,
uncle. These are the only clothes we brought."
"Oh, that's alright. I had quite enough of formal dinners while our
cousin, Baron von Trompp, was here! Those Germans are such sticklers for
ceremony and pomp. I wonder if they realize their craving for it suggests
insecurity to others?"
"Will grandmother be joining us?"
"No. But she'd like to speak to you, Philip."
"I want to see her too. It has been over ten years."
"I'll have Cavanaugh hold dinner for a bit and we can go see her now."
"Alright... " Phil was distracted by a touch on his shoulder. "Excuse
me a moment." He dropped back to whisper with Eben.
"Jack just got here," Eben informed Phil. The big man glanced at the
horizon and saw the sun had set while they were touring the greenhouse. "He
says he will scan the minds of everyone here and let us know what he learns
later." Eben went on.
"We can all take a walk together after dinner and talk. I'm going to
see my grandmother now."
"We heard." Eben addressed Hun Tzu and Mark. "Shall we have a seat
here in the gardens and enjoy the view until Phil is done visiting with his
grandmother?"
"Sure," Hun Tzu agreed, finding a bench set next to rose bush covered
with creamy orange blooms.
Mark managed to give Phil's hand a quick, surreptitious squeeze. When
Phil looked at him, the black haired cowboy mouthed 'I love you'.
Exchanging grins, they separated. Phil followed his uncle into the manor
and Mark turned to find a seat, but was distracted by a new sight.
"Holy... " he breathed, spotting a burly, good-looking man among a
group of others who had appeared at the far corner of the manor, at the
servants' entrance.
"What?" asked Eben, having picked up the soft exclamation with his
sharp hearing as he and Hun Tzu both looked in the same direction. Hun Tzu
smiled.
"I think our brother is in love."
"Not with all of them I hope!" Eben chortled.
"No!" snorted Mark, pointing. "See that big guy with the red hair and
beard? He's got his hand on that older man's shoulder next to him."
"Oh yes... " Hun Tzu murmured. "Very nice... It looks like he has a
brother as well."
"Yes," Eben said, cocking a sensitive ear towards the group. "It's a
group of guards who were relieved and have come to get their supper. He's
telling his father and brother that he wants to stay at the manor... oh, I
lost him." Eben admitted as the guards all went inside.
"Looks like they have dining rooms for their servants, too."
"I knew being rich was supposed to be pleasant," Eben began, taking in
his exceptional surroundings again, "but I had no idea it could be like
this!"
"It makes me feel humble," Mark admitted to his friends. "Knowin' Phil
chose me over all this, it's... well, it's humblin'!" he finished, unable
to further articulate his feelings.
"If we believe in the Way of the Heron," began Hun Tzu, "we must
believe that love is preferable to all things." He looked around also and
sighed. "But I'm afraid few would agree with that ideal after seeing all
this. It is very tempting."
After chatting for another fifteen minutes or so, Cavanaugh appeared
to ask them inside. They found Phil, Constantine and the baron's wife,
Dorothea, whom they greeted. Dorothea, they later learned, had not been
present the night of Rupert's poisoning. The baroness had been in Lingfield
meeting with some of the local church officials as they went over the poor
lists and decided what could be done for the less fortunate members of
their community.
The diners took their chairs, each richly upholstered in dark violet
velvet with the Caddell arms embroidered on the backrests, in a richly
appointed dining room. Like the baron's study, the chamber and its
furnishings were wrought entirely from one type of wood, in this case an
exotic one, Brazilian kingwood, the dark brown color of which was enlivened
by a curious purple sheen evoked by candlelight. That same light lit the
long, elegant table they occupied. Crystal and china and silver objects and
utensils shone and sparkled where they rested on spotless white linen.
More liveried servants appeared and poured an aperitif of dubonnet for
the diners. Their appetites whetted, another round of fine French red wine
followed, glasses of rich, dark Bordeaux claret, served with steaming bowls
of game soup, which set the tone of the meal. After that came small pastry
tarts stuffed with sliced hare and vegetables in a thick, succulent gravy.
As that course was taken away, strangely thick plates were placed before
the diners and the servers warned them that they were very hot. Mark looked
questioningly at his partner and Phil explained.
"They're special hollow underplates, filled with boiling water. Some
gourmet meals can't be enjoyed if they get cold before you finish eating,
so we have heated plates for them."
More red wine, this time a fine old Burgundy, was served. Then the
promised surprise was brought in. It had to be carried by two men on an
enormous silver platter and was set upon a side table. The room was
instantly filled with the aroma exhaled by the huge, whole haunch of roast
venison.
"Upon my word!" Constantine exclaimed as Cavanaugh began expertly
carving the rare delicacy and others distributed the still smoking slices.
"What a mighty joint! My mediaeval ancestors would feel right at home with
such a meal!"
"I understand the gamekeepers have been tracking a hart for some time,
keeping tabs on its habits, so they would be able to find it when it would
be needed for your table, sir," began Cavanaugh as he continued to
skillfully slice and load the plates, which others took to the hungry
diners. The dishes fit snugly in the plate warmers, which kept everything
piping hot. "When they heard master Philip was returning, they decided only
it would do for a celebratory dinner. So they bagged the beast and
presented it to the cook."
Hot tureens of gravy and currant jelly steamed as they were set on the
table and made available for the diners to dress their venison, along with
heaps of bread rolls and dishes of butter cunningly molded into fanciful
shapes. Wild game was no novelty to the heron men, who depended on it to
survive in their isolated valley. But they thoroughly enjoyed their meal.
After a simple dessert of iced wine and fruit, the heron men prepared
to go out for a walk and meet up with Jack. Phil visited the ample washroom
that was built between the rooms he and his heron brothers shared and
looked it over with an appraising eye as he pissed. He smiled at the large,
onyx paved shower, thinking of the games he and the others could play there
later.
'I hope I'm invited too,' a silent voice whispered to Phil's brain.
"Of course, Jack." Phil replied as Jack's hands slid around Phil's
midsection and helped him shake his cock. The amazing organ filled Jack's
hands as well as Phil's "You know you're always welcome to play with me or
Mark."
"Tonight may not be our night," he began quietly as Phil tucked
himself away and buttoned up.
"Is something wrong? I thought we were all going to meet outside."
"No, I just wanted to tell you something of a personal nature. And
afterwards, you may want to give it your full attention while the rest of
us discuss what I've learned."
"What is it?"
"There's a man here whose mind I scanned. Albert Tyrell. I believe you
know him."
"Yes, I do," sighed Phil. "We were best friends as boys. He was my
first... " The big man shook off the pleasant memories before they became
too strong. "What about Al?"
"I think you should know he's still deeply in love with you, Phil."
Jack looked away, as if through the walls towards Albert's location. "He
tried to forget you, like you advised, but he couldn't. He's waiting
outside, hoping to speak to you. He doesn't know what to expect after all
these years. He's steeled himself for a rejection, but I can tell it would
break him, inside."
"I wanted to talk to Al. I guess I'd better do it now."
"If I'm any judge of character," added Jack, his eyes coming back to
meet Phil's, "Al seems to be a potential heron man."
"Oh?" Phil exclaimed softly. He wondered where their reunion might
lead.
"Yes," Jack affirmed. "I'll speak to the others. Albert's on the
southwest side of the house."
"Thank you, Jack," Phil kissed his friend. When the intimate touch
ended, Jack disappeared and only the open washroom door marked his passing.
Phil slipped down the servants' corridor, left the manor through the
kitchen and rounded the corner of the great house.
In the light coming from a nearby set of windows, Phil saw a man in
dark green clothes, his gamekeeper's uniform, pacing before a marble bench,
smoking a hand rolled cigarette. He abruptly sat down and Phil caught some
words the man spoke distractedly to himself.
"Steady, Al, steady... don't act like a fool... you've only got one
shot at this... "
Phil deliberately ground his boots into the gravel path as he walked
to alert his boyhood friend. The man dropped his smoke, jumped up and faced
Phil as he came closer. Albert had become a large man like Phil, and a very
handsome one as well. Phil felt his heart begin to beat faster as he spoke.
"Albert?" he asked gently. "Do I have you to thank for that
magnificent dinner?"
Albert doffed his hat and lowered his eyes out of habit when speaking
to his social superiors.
"I didn't bag him alone, sir, my brother and father helped. It didn't
take us long, because we knew the hart's habits and where he would be
found. Did you really enjoy the venison, sir?"
"Don't do that." Phil asked as he came closer. "Can't we talk like the
friends we used to be, Al, like equals?"
"Are we still friends... Phil?"
"God, yes, Al!" Phil exclaimed, taking his hand. Al gripped it and
looked up into Phil's eyes. They fairly shone with emotion.
"I wasn't sure... it's been so long."
A shadow suddenly passed before the lighted windows close to where
they stood and both men jumped.
"Come away," Al urged. "Let's go into the woods."
"No," Phil countered. "Come up to my room."
"In the manor?"
"I promised you I'd smuggle you into my room some night, don't you
remember?"
"Yes. But that was years and years ago."
"A promise is a promise. Especially between best friends. C'mon."
Phil retraced his steps, with Al right behind him. Though they heard
the other servants working, they did not encounter any and reached Phil's
room unseen. Phil locked the door and turned to find himself bearhugged by
his friend. They kissed deeply, overjoyed by their reunion, and within a
minute the men were grinding their hard cocks against each other through
their clothing. Knowing Al's need, Phil maneuvered them both into the huge
oak framed bed and the pair gave themselves up to an extended bout of
frenetic lovemaking.
* * *
"...God, but you grew into a handsome man!" Phil was murmuring in Al's
ear, sometime later. "And that red beard makes you look so attractive!"
"You're better than I remember too, Phil." Al sighed back. "I'm
sorry."
"Huh? About what?" Phil asked, pulling his old friend closer. A pair
of pants, Phil was not sure whose, slipped off the bed and fell to the
floor, joining a scattered collection of clothing.
"I tried to do what you asked me. I tried to find another man to love,
but I couldn't forget you. I was saving my money to buy a ticket to America
and go look for you, but first that war broke out over there, and then no
one knew quite where you were in Oregon. Lord Swansgrave was kind enough to
let me look at his maps, but it was such a big country I thought I'd never
find you. So I waited here, hoping you'd come back someday."
"I'm sorry I took so long, Al. If I'd known... well, that doesn't
matter now."
"Can I stay with you then, Phil? I could still be your servant."
"If we were to be together, Al, I'd want it to be as equals. But
there'd be other... er... complications."
"What... " Phil felt Al's body stiffen as he made a connection. "Those
men you came with... are they like us?"
"Al... yes."
"One of them is your lover," he whispered apprehensively. "Is that
it?"
"Yes, but Al, it's not what you think. Hear me out... "
Al lay in Phil's arms as he listened to his old friend spin the story
of his experiences with the Elxa tribe. Phil avoided the more recent
history, including mention of the spirit realm, but what he said was quite
enough for Al. The man was simply amazed by the idea of living in a
community made up only of men like themselves.
"And you all freely... play together? Without jealousy?"
"That's part of the Way of the Heron, the life path we try to walk."
"I'd sure like to be part of the Elxa, but didn't you say the spirits
chose new members?"
"Yes, but I'll talk it over with the others. And you can stay with me
in any case if you want to. I won't leave you behind again, Al. Besides, I
could use your help."
"With what?"
"I'm going back to London tomorrow. My uncle Rupert may still be in
danger and I want to keep an eye on him until we know who tried to poison
him."
"You know I'll help you in any way I can."
"Good," grinned Phil, "because I'd like your help with something else
right now." He pointed towards the washroom attached to his room. "I'd like
to take a shower and I need someone to get my back!"
* * *
Much later, finding the door to his room locked, Mark detoured through
the room shared by Eben and Hun Tzu, who were preparing to take an extended
shower with Jack. Ignoring their snickerings, for Jack had told his heron
brothers why Phil had not joined them, Mark eased the door from the
washroom in between open. As Jack had forewarned him, he saw two big forms
cuddled in the bed. Luckily it was a wide bed, and Mark stepped carefully
through the discarded clothing on the floor, adding his own as he went.
As the sound of the shower began to hiss quietly in the background,
Mark felt about carefully and recognized Phil by his long beard. Then he
deftly slipped under the covers behind his partner. Mark was relaxing
against the hairy, warm back when Phil slowly turned and gathered Mark into
his arms. Phil's lips moved sensuously in Mark's ear.
"I'm glad you're here... "
"You need help with your friend?" Mark chuckled.
"In the morning perhaps. I think I wore him out."
"I'm glad you left some of yourself for me." Mark said before sharing
a lingering kiss. "Jack told me what you and Al were up to. Was it good?"
"Very. How do you feel about taking him home with us?"
"That good, huh? You think he's heron man material?"
"I think so and so does Jack. I'm going to send a message back with
Jack to Falling Star, to see what he thinks."
"Aw, you know Falling Star trusts your judgement. He made you a chief
in the tribe a long time ago! Did you tell Al everything?"
"Everything but the magic. I'm not sure if Al would believe me."
"All you have to do is show him the tree Hun Tzu opened."
"Yes, I suppose... "
"What tree?" Al yawned as he rose to look over Phil's shoulder. Mark
recognized the man who had attracted his attention earlier. Having lived
with the magic of the Elxa for so long, he knew at once that it could not
have been a mere coincidence.
"Hello," he beamed. "I'm Mark."
"You're Phil's partner?" Al poked Phil. "You didn't tell me he was
such a good looking man!"
"You ain't so bad to look at yourself, Al!" returned Mark.
"Here," Phil grumped in mock annoyance, pulling Mark over himself and
planting him against Al. "You two get acquainted while I get some more
sleep! I still want to leave in the morning!"
* * *
Lord Swansgrave was a little surprised by his nephew's request, but
gladly gave Al leave to go to London and help Phil protect Rupert. Hiking
back to Croglin Grange gave Al a chance to say goodbye to his family, pack
a bag and change into his best clothes. Al had already told Phil his
brother John was more than capable of taking over as gamekeeper for the
vast estate of the Caddell family. He was also engaged to be married,
which promised more Tyrell huntsmen for the future.
Later, the heron men paused to show Al the oak tree Hun Tzu had
'opened' and explained its magic. Al was amazed at the craft that allowed
the Elxa to travel vast distances on Earth by detouring through the spirit
realm, using trees that channeled telluric energies. They could have used
it then and gone back to London through the tree at Fruitwood, but they
decided to take the train, as both Al and Mark needed more sleep. They had
kept each other up late the previous night in their endeavor to 'get
acquainted'.
In their compartment, the pair leaned against each other, got
comfortable and dozed off. Eben and Hun Tzu exchanged knowing smiles. Phil,
for his part, gazed fondly at the two men who both moved him on a deep
level of his being and tried to imagine the future.
He thought about the house he and Mark had built and considered what
changes would make it more comfortable for three. He wondered about the bed
and thought perhaps a bigger one might be more useful. After all, they were
bound to have guests... Then he was distracted by Hun Tzu's touch. He
realized the geomancer and Eben had been talking to him.
"I'm sorry, I was lost in thought."
"It's alright," Hun Tzu smiled. "It is obvious you have much to think
about." He nodded at Mark and Al as he spoke. "But you have not asked what
Jack discovered at the manor."
"Did he find something?"
"In a word, no," began Eben. "He scanned everyone there, but the
poisoner isn't any of the people who live at the manor."
"So my grandmother is innocent," Phil breathed. "Thank God. When I saw
her before dinner yesterday, she looked broken with shame and grief. We
have to help her and get to the bottom of this outrage!"
"Jack said if he could find the other three people who were there,
Baron von Trompp and Lord and Lady Eurstone, he'd scan them and determine
if they told the police the truth about their activities on the night in
question."
"What about Adrian Singleton? Did anyone there know him?"
"Jack said your uncle the baron had a recollection of the name, a
vague one, like Rupert did. But that didn't tell him much. No one else
there had ever heard of the man."
After puzzling some more over what little they knew, the heron men
snacked on some venison sandwiches the cook had packed for them. Phil saved
some for Mark and Al, who woke up in time to eat them before the train
pulled into London. Eben and Hun Tzu poked a little fun at the indolent
pair, reminding them that beds were for sleeping as well as lovemaking. Al
blushed fiercely at that, and Mark leapt to his defense by telling them to
lay off his pard, which made Phil grin. Coming out of the station, Phil
spotted a familiar figure waving at them.
"Why Stephen!" he exclaimed, coming over to the coachman. "How'd you
know we'd be here?"
"Baron Swansgrave telegrammed your departure, so Lord St. Croix sent
me to collect you." Stephen opened his coach with a flourish. "Please climb
aboard, gentlemen!"
Upon their return to Fruitwood, they found Rupert ready to introduce
his wife and son to them. Matilda thanked Phil effusively for his earlier
letters and Thomas, who was almost four, was a bit overwhelmed at first.
But he seemed to understand that the big man with the long beard was going
to be his special friend, especially after getting a ride around the house
on his shoulders.
Rupert appeared to be much better. After hearing from Phil about the
mostly negative results of his investigations at Swansgrave Manor, he
decided to go riding around London with his wife and son to get some air.
Reminding him to be careful, Phil went out to the street with him, Matilda
and Thomas. They hailed a cab that was passing and Phil waved goodbye to
them as the conveyance clattered off.
Phil rejoined the others who were relaxing in the gardens. They were
bringing Clarence and Terrance up to date, describing their visit to the
opulent seat of the Caddell family. Phil strolled over, helped himself to
a cinnamon scone from a number arraigned on a silver salver, slathered a
gob of superlative butter on it and addressed his four companions between
bites.
"It appears we have the afternoon to ourselves. Would you like to do a
little sightseeing in London?"
As the others nodded, Clarence spoke up.
"I'd be glad to put my coach at your disposal again, Philip."
"Thank you, that's very kind of you, Clarence. Perhaps it's too soon
to ask, but what are our plans for this evening?"
"Oh, it almost slipped my mind! I've been invited to a formal party
this evening. Would you all like to come with me?"
"Who is hosting the event?" asked Terrance.
"Lady Wellebourne," Clarence answered. "She's quite giddy about the
event, since she managed to wring a promise from the Prince of Wales to
attend. I imagine he will show up for a short time only, but still, it
will be a major coup for her."
"Why," brightened Terrance, "this would be a splendid opportunity to
introduce Matilda to high society."
"Would you like to see the heir to the throne of England?" Phil asked
his friends. As they all responded in the affirmative, Phil grew
thoughtful. "We'll need formal attire. Is there a shop nearby where we can
buy clothing, Clarence?"
"My driver will take you to my clothier. Tell him you are my guests
and he will take care of you."
Stephen was as accommodating as usual. The five men proceeded to their
fittings, and though Phil's knowledge of fashion was a decade old, the
conservative formulae for formal wear had not changed very much. After the
group was properly outfitted to meet a prince, the suits were dispatched to
Fruitwood while Phil took his friends on a tour of the city. They drove
past great palaces, impressive monuments and through elegant parks.
The men began to play a game of spotting 'sisters', having seen quite
a few suspicious looking male couples walking out and about. As the coach
turned down one street they saw two men emerge from No. 221B. One was tall
and lean with a hawklike face while the other was shorter and appeared to
be a typical, if slightly rotund, English country gentleman.
"There's another couple," Eben indicated while the others nodded in
agreement.
Arriving at Westminster Abbey, Phil led his friends inside and pointed
out the resting places of famous and infamous personages of English
history. Here was Henry VIII, whose matrimonial tribulations created
endless turmoil for England. Over there was the greatest thing King Henry
left to posterity: his daughter, the great Elizabeth, who though mistress
of only half an island defied the mightiest monarchs of Europe and made
them fear the armed might of England.
"This is interesting, or at least I think it is so," Phil said as he
pointed out a white marble monument to Anne of Cleves, the most fortunate,
or so some said, of Henry VIII's six wives. "Her tomb was the first in
England to have a skull and crossbones on it, a device now synonymous with
death in the English-speaking world."
As they inspected the coronation chair, Mark pointed to a odd object
set beneath it which looked out of place and asked, "What's that old rock
doin' there?"
"That 'old rock' is the Stone of Scone, the coronation 'chair' of the
ancient Kings of Scotland," Phil explained. "Some say it is the same stone
that the patriarch Jacob used for a pillow, when he had his famous dream of
angels ascending and descending a ladder from Heaven as described in the
Bible, but no one can explain how the stone got from Israel to Scotland!
When King Edward I invaded Scotland, long ago, he took the sacred stone and
placed it under his throne to show that the Kings of England were also the
rulers of Scotland, though that didn't really come about until James VI of
Scotland became James I of England."
After they left the abbey, they went to a tavern and Phil treated his
friends to rounds of English ale and beer. There was a general agreement
that while English spirits were quite good, their friend Matt Able brewed
just as good a beer in False Pass. Mark promised Al that he would take him
to the Trail's End saloon when they got home to Oregon so he could judge
for himself. As the great clock in the tavern struck three, they agreed it
was time to return to Fruitwood.
The paperboys were crying the arrival of the evening editions as the
heron men exited the pub. Phil decided to buy a paper and went towards a
nearby kiosk. A golden haired youth in his late teens, who was in charge of
the booth, was having an animated conversation with the attendant, a
younger, light brown haired lad.
"...Lord Lymprod took me to dinner at the Royal Covey House in William
Rufus Street. It was marvelous! We drank a bottle of boy and... "
"Boy?" puzzled the attendant.
"Haven't you ever heard champagne called boy, Danny?"
"No, Bill," he shook his head. "Why?"
"'Cause they act the same when you pop their corks!"
"Oh!" laughed Danny. "It sounds like you had fun."
"His lordship might fancy you too. Want me to put a good word in?"
"Would you? It's been awhile since I had a good meal."
"Here," Bill said as he dug in his pocket and handed his friend three
shillings. "Can't have my best mate goin' hungry!"
"Bill, I can't... " Danny started to protest.
"Lord Lymprod gave me a sovereign. I've still got most of it."
"Thanks, Bill, I... Oh, hello sir." Danny managed when he spotted
Phil.
"Did I hear the evening papers were out?"
"Yes, sir."
"Give me a Times, please." As Danny handed Phil one of the penny
papers, Phil gave the young man a sixpence piece. "Keep the change."
"Thank you, sir!" he beamed. "Is there anything else I can do for you
sir?"
"Perhaps you could be more careful of what you talk about in a public
place," Phil warned. "I don't disapprove at all of what you were
discussing, but others might not be so tolerant. Understand?"
"I understand, sir."
"Would you be lookin' for some congenial company, sir?" asked Bill
boldly.
"Not at the moment. Can you usually be found here?" Phil returned,
just as boldly, eyeing the lad speculatively. Bill seemed used to such
appraising looks.
"Here, or at the Regent's Park, when I'm not doin' odd jobs."
"You've no steady employment?"
"No sir, but I'm hard worker."
Phil stroked his long beard in thought.
"Your name is Bill?"
"Bill Muir, sir. This is my friend Danny Nye."
"I'm pleased to meet you both. My name is Phil Caddell. I'm visiting
London after a long absence. I could use someone to run errands for me,
perhaps act as my valet on a temporary basis. Would you be interested?"
"Yes sir!"
"Do you know where Richard II Street is?"
"Yes sir."
"One of the properties along that street is called Fruitwood. It is
owned by Lord St. Croix. I will be staying there tonight. Here," Phil said,
handing over a sovereign. "Buy me a pouch of the best Virginia pipe tobacco
and a white orchid corsage for my aunt. Bring them around before six. I'll
see you get fed when you arrive."
"Yes sir."
"Phil?" asked Mark, coming over from the waiting coach. "Is something
wrong?"
"No, Mark. I was just hiring a valet. This is Bill Muir and his friend
Danny Nye. Bill, Danny, this is my partner, Mark Nutley."
"Glad to meet you," Mark said as they shook. Danny was about to speak
again when a new voice interrupted.
"'Ullo, luvs!"
The men and lads all looked to see a common prostitute approaching the
kiosk. Her cheap finery matched the artificial color of her hair, and both
were slightly disheveled. Her voice and movements betrayed the fact that
she had been drinking.
"Push off, Bessie!" scolded Danny. "You've been told not to ply your
trade around here!"
"Don't tell me what to do, you little pansy!" she all but screamed
before addressing Phil and Mark in a slightly less irritating tone. "'Ow
'bout it luvs? I've a special rate for threesomes!"
"C'mon, Phil," Mark urged, taking his man's arm. His distaste for the
slattern was obvious.
"Cripes! More bleedin' fairies!" she brayed. "Why don't you try
somethin' diff'rent?"
"I did," said Phil in his most pleasant manner. "It was like cold,
stinking fish."
Danny and Bill burst into laughter. Mark grinned. Bessie looked like
she had been slapped.
"Aaaaoooow! What a thing to say to a lady!"
"You're no lady!" Bill chimed in.
"I'll 'ave the law on all you spotty prancers, I will!" she fumed.
"Evening, Constable," greeted Danny, as a uniformed man joined them.
"'Ere now, what's all this? Is this woman bothering you, sir?" the
lawman asked, looking at Phil, who shook his head.
"I just stopped for a paper, and am leaving now. My valet here has
some errands to run, right?"
"I'll see you before six, sir." Bill agreed.
Leaving the Constable to deal with Bessie, Mark and Phil returned to
their comrades. Phil leafed eagerly through the paper to see if Stanley's
story had made it into print. He smiled when he found it. As the coach
trundled along, he read the article to his friends.
"Listen to this: 'After a period of recuperation at the rustic manor
of Riverview near the village of Tender Bottom, owned by the distinguished
retired foreign civil servant, Sir Terrance Sandersfield, most lately Her
Britannic Majesty's Consul in San Francisco, the Right Honorable Sir Rupert
Caddell, Squire of Swansgrave and heir to the rich barony thereof, was seen
dining in Bicton's with his nephew, the Right Honorable Philip Caddell, who
has just returned from a sojourn of many years in the Colonies...' They put
'Colonies' in italics so the readers know they mean America," Phil
explained to his friends.
"'This gentleman, currently second in line for the barony... '" Phil
paused again. "I suppose they haven't gotten the news about Matilda and
Thomas yet. Let's see... 'this gentleman is remembered as a brilliant
scholar of literature at Oxford and Trinity, and left for America before
the outbreak of the Civil War there to attend Harvard and tour the country.
Just before the outbreak of the late war there, he removed to the western
part of America and has lived the life of a rough backwoodsman for over ten
years. However, upon meeting him, this reporter found an affable and
cultured gentleman, whose manners seemed not at all to have been affected
by his long sojourn in the American wilderness.'"
Mark and the others chuckled at that.
"'The Squire of Swansgrave himself was unable to speak to this
reporter due to his continuing weakness, but he appeared cheerful and ate a
hearty lunch of tenderloin, Yorkshire pudding and green salad, according to
the staff of Bicton's. It is gratifying to see the victim of such a
horrendous crime escape its deadly intentions and return to society.
"'One almost wishes the laws of Henry VIII were still in force, so
that when the author of this villainy is convicted, they could face a
boiling in oil before the public, to deter future would-be poisoners from
this unspeakable crime... '"
"Whoa!" muttered Eben. "That Henry fellow used to boil people in oil?"
"What did you expect from a guy who chops his wives' heads off?"
observed Mark.
"He only boiled poisoners," Phil laughed. "We can visit the Tower of
London sometime and see the rack and other instruments of torture used in
the past, or if that's too macabre for you, the crown jewels are on display
there, too."
* * *
After returning to Fruitwood, the men cleaned themselves up, taking
more showers, and relaxing in various ways. Mark and Al cuddled up for
another nap in their room while Phil went to Clarence's library and looked
over the police documents relating to Rupert's poisoning, which had been
sent by Rupert's solicitor. Eben and Hun Tzu went for a walk, which allowed
Eben to check out the area with his heightened senses. The geomancer also
took some readings with his lo-pan, but the pair discovered nothing
suspicious.
Bill turned up at five with the items Phil had requested. Phil asked a
servant to take the orchid, a frilly thing that had all the appearance of
being wrought from ivory, to his aunt with his compliments. Noting the name
on the package of pipe tobacco, Phil realized Bill had visited the most
renowned tobacconist in London and at once packed his pipe and lit it. He
had been looking forward to a smoke and exhaled the fragrant fumes in
pleasure.
When Bill offered Phil the change from his sovereign, Phil smiled and
told him to count it as part of his pay. Then Phil set Bill down and
informed him of the task Phil needed done that evening. When he was sure
Bill understood the gravity of the situation, Phil sent him off to the
kitchen to get some food.
Clarence's cook was as skilled as Terrance's, and produced another
tasty and substantial supper, during which Eben whispered to Phil that he
had never seen such a variety of food prepared so many ways. By tacit
agreement, the men did not mention what they knew about Rupert's poisoning
or the spies that had been discovered, not wishing to upset Matilda. She
was already in an almost apprehensive mood, knowing at long last she was
about to make her debut in London society.
Rupert, having sent word to his house, had Peter bring his best suit
of evening clothes around. As everyone changed, Phil found he had to
intervene often to assist his friends don their unfamiliar garments.
Following Hun Tzu's lead, the men tied their long hair back into ponytails
with green ribbon, as a sign of their brotherhood. Al, whose hair was
short, was consoled by the others and reassured that they already
considered him their brother as well. At last, gathered in the foyer, the
men looked up in wonder as Matilda appeared and came down the stairs.
She wore a gown of pale blue silk that rustled softly as she moved and
was extremely becoming. Phil's white orchid clung to her right shoulder. A
few pieces of diamond jewelry added a bit of sparkle. As Rupert helped her
put on a voluminous cloak to protect her dress he asked where she had
gotten it.
"Why, Clarence gave it to me. It was among his late mother's things,
and I altered it to fit me. Do you really like it?"
"You'll dazzle every man there, my dear. I'm afraid the Prince of
Wales will make a pass at you, and I shall have to challenge him to a
duel!"
"Oh, you!"
"Is Thomas asleep?"
"Yes, and my maid, Anne, is watching him."
Phil glanced up the stairs and saw Bill seated in a chair opposite the
door to the room Thomas and Anne shared. The young man was leafing through
a magazine and a cup of tea was steaming on a table beside him. Rupert saw
where his nephew's attention was.
"Thank you again for thinking of a guard," he whispered. "We can't be
too careful."
Phil nodded as they went outside. The group needed two coaches for
their journey. Foreseeing that, Rupert had retained Edgar and his own
coach, which he, Matilda and his two friends took. As the heron men were
getting into Clarence's coach, Eben's expression changed while he took his
seat.
"What is it?" asked Hun Tzu.
"Jack just got here."
"Is he the one you told me about?" Al asked Mark. As Mark nodded and
whispered a further reply, Eben paused as if listening.
"Jack says there are no spies he can detect around here." After
another moment, Eben went on. "Phil, can Jack join us at the party?"
"Sure, but he needs proper attire... "
"Jack says he'll borrow something from the same shop we were at
earlier." Eben cocked his head. "He knows where to meet us from reading
Stephen's mind."
"Okay," Phil responded as the coach lurched and took off. "What?" he
asked when he saw Eben's grin.
"Jack says Stephen has a crush on you."
"Get used to it Al," Mark said to the surprised redhead as the others
laughed. "Phil's a regular man-magnet!"
"Jack also says," added Eben, more seriously, "that Bill can be
trusted. The boy's glad to have a job and is eager to please you in the
hopes of it becoming permanent. Bill's realized that London is a bit
rougher than he expected, but he doesn't want to go home, especially since
he's in love with Danny."
"Thank Jack for the information. I intend to take good care of Bill."
Phil glanced at the others, who were snickering at the unspoken
implications of his words. "Oh, get your minds out of the gutter! The Way
of the Heron isn't entirely about mansex you know!"
"No, but it is the best part!" Mark returned merrily.
As they rumbled along, London looked like a different place at night,
illuminated by innumerable gas streetlights. A light fog was rising off the
river and added a touch of unreality to the streets and menace to the
shadowy figures that moved through the mists, which softly blurred all
details. At last, the coaches turned into the gate of a palatial mansion.
The building seemed to radiate light from every window. There were
torches as well, set up around the house and illuminating its gardens and
grounds. Previously arrived guests could be seen there, strolling and
chatting as strains of chamber music floated from the open windows and
doors.
Jack appeared as soon as his heron brothers alighted. After
introducing Jack as another companion who had been held up by unavoidable
circumstances, they ascended the marble front steps and encountered their
hostess. Lady Wellebourne was pleased to see Clarence had accepted her
invitation, but was astounded to have a celebrity like Rupert attending,
whose story the papers had spread far and wide in the recent weeks.
Adding to this was the utter surprise of discovering Rupert had a wife
and son. And Phil's return to England, with a following of handsome
Americans, was an event no less unlooked for. Her announcer gave the titles
of the group aloud, ending with, 'The Right Honorable Philip Caddell of
Swansgrave and friends'.
Terrance and Clarence kept an eye on Rupert, who along with Matilda
were kept busy receiving a steady stream of congratulations from well
wishers, but the Squire of Swansgrave seemed to have recovered almost
completely from his poisoning. Clarence agreed with Terrance that Phil's
arrival had been just the spur Rupert needed to push himself back into the
ordinary activities of life. Meanwhile, Phil and the others waded into the
sea of society that packed the long, stately ballroom.
Al was a bit intimidated, conscious of his sudden rise to the rarefied
heights of society, but he watched his companions and profited by their
example. The Americans, naturally unconscious of class distinctions, mixed
and talked easily with those curious about their home. The Americans were
much amused by some of the misconceptions they heard about 'the Colonies'.
As Hun Tzu lingered near the refreshments, sipping a flavorful punch
and sampling a few of the many custards, trifles, creams, meringues,
jellies and other tempting treats laid out for the guests. As he did so, he
made the acquaintance of a fellow partygoer. The geomancer soon found
himself deep in conversation about Chinese art with someone whose ideas
showed him to have been a careful student of the subject.
The man appeared to be of an age with the heron men, fashionably and
fastidiously dressed, with a large and rather grotesque orchid in his
buttonhole. It was spotted, ragged and looked as if a tropical disease had
been forced to produce a blossom with the color of inflamed flesh. His name
was Galan Swysher, Lord Lymprod, and within a few minutes of their meeting,
Hun Tzu knew he was dealing with another manlover like himself, though of
a rather more queenly demeanor.
"Did you come with Philip Caddell?" Upon receiving an affirmative
reply, the lord went on. "Could you point him out to me?"
Hun Tzu looked around the great ballroom. He spotted Phil, who seemed
to be having an animated conversation with an older gentleman whose beard
was the equal of the heron man's, but of a snow white color. Hun Tzu
discreetly pointed Phil out and Lord Lymprod's eyes widened a bit as he
went on.
"I have heard of Philip Caddell of course, a brilliant scholar of
literature at both Oxford and Trinity, and then away to America to attend
whatever passes for an institution of higher learning there. But I had
always pictured to myself a lank haired, gaunt, bespectacled creature with
huge feet!" Lord Lymprod looked again and continued on. "One must admit his
feet are rather on the large side, but the rest of him reeks of untrammeled
masculinity! I did not think our tired nobility could produce such a
strapping fellow!"
"Would you like me to introduce you to him?"
"That would be splendid! But let's wait until he's done speaking with
old Lord Uncton there. They seem to be having a pleasant talk and I'd hate
to spoil it. Ah! Here is our hostess!" Galan said, making a sudden bow to
Lady Wellebourne, who was just passing by. Hun Tzu did the same and she
paused.
"Are you having a good time, gentlemen?"
"An extremely good time, my dear Phyllis. Your party will be talked of
for weeks, because of the surprise appearance of the Squire of Swansgrave
and his hitherto unknown, but charming wife. She seems to have made a
sparkling success of her public debut. And then there's his nephew, Philip,
back in England after years and years. Yes, even if the Prince of Wales
doesn't show up, this will be an event well worth remembering!"
"But Bertie promised me himself!" she exclaimed, emphasizing the word
'promised'.
"Royalty cannot be held to the same standards as we lesser mortals."
"No, they can't, but I think their standards ought to be higher!
Excuse me, gentlemen, but I must have a word with my niece, Lady Trollope
there." Phyllis Wellebourne suddenly pouted. "I don't know why all my
attempts to bring you two together have failed, Galan. I'm sure you and
Edwina would make a delightful couple. Oh well, adieu, gentlemen."
"You re not married?" asked Hun Tzu, unsurprised at the news as Lady
Wellebourne sailed off, leaving a strong scent of frangipane in her wake.
"I have a theory about marriage. Men do it when they are tired of
living alone, and women do it out of sheer curiosity. I doubt seriously
that many end up happy with their choices."
"And there are many men who should not marry at all."
"Yes, that is so." Lord Lymprod looked speculatively at Hun Tzu. "But
society will insist on it."
"As I understand it, Phil was driven to America by his grandmother's
penchant for arraigning marriages for the men in her family. He, like
myself and our other friends, are 'not the marrying kind' as some say."
Galan laid his hand on Hun Tzu's arm lightly and an understanding
passed between them.
"If that is so, I would be delighted to show you and your friends some
parts of London that 'our kind' might find diverting. And warn you about
places to be avoided. For instance, there's a house in Cleveland Street
that despite the occasional presence of royalty is much too risky a place
to seek one's pleasure at. On the other hand, the Alhambra is a perfectly
wonderful place to relax in, and quite discrete."
"What do they offer there?" Hun Tzu asked, rather curious.
"Why, it's primarily a bathhouse, with steamrooms, a swimming pool,
masseurs, that sort of thing. But its charm for me is that most of the
clientele go about their business there in a total state of undress. One
can witness a smorgasbord of masculine charms there, all openly and
unashamedly displayed. I would be pleased to show you and your friends
around it sometime."
"That's very kind of you. I'll mention it to the others. But you ought
to know, until we get to the bottom of what happened to Phil's uncle, we
are acting as his bodyguard, so our time here is not completely our own."
"It was a terrible thing to have happen. Of course all I know about it
is what I have read in the papers. It seems incredible that the Squire's
own mother would do such a thing, but the police seem convinced of her
guilt."
"Well, we're not convinced of that... What's happening?"
Hun Tzu's rejoinder had been interrupted as the musicians abruptly
ended the elegant dance tune they had been playing and launched into a bold
rendition of 'God Save The Queen', stopping all the dancers. Everyone
looked around and saw a small commotion at the entryway. Galan touched Hun
Tzu again.
"The Prince of Wales must be about to make his appearance. After he is
announced, bow towards him. After that, he won't expect any more ceremony."
"Thank you. I had no idea what to do."
The announcer gravely informed all present that 'His Royal Highness,
Edward, Prince of Wales' had arrived. As one, the ballroomful of people
bowed and curtsied. The prince and his small following slowly began to make
the rounds of the room as the band went back to playing a waltz and the
dancers recommenced their stately movements, reflected vaguely in the
polished marble floors.
Hun Tzu and Galan were too far away to hear, but it appeared that the
Prince spoke some words of consolation to Rupert and his wife. Then, with a
bow to Matilda, he led her out to dance. They only made one circuit of the
floor, but for that brief space of time, she was the envy of the onlooking
women.
'Hun Tzu.' Jack's telepathy suddenly whispered in his mind. 'Look to
your right, at those open doors that lead out onto a patio.'
Slowly he did as Jack had asked. There were some people standing in
the doorway, watching the Prince and whispering about the lady he was
dancing with. One man had a look of consternation on his face, a face Hun
Tzu recognized, for Jack had shown it to him and the others earlier.
'Adrian Singleton?' he thought back.
'Yes,' Jack answered. 'When he heard Rupert was here, his emotions
attracted my attention. He was angry and confused as to why his spies
hadn't warned him that Rupert had left Riverview.'
'Why is he spying on Rupert?'
'Wait and let me tell you all later, once we're away from here.'
'Alright.'
"Who are you looking at?" asked Galan, glancing in the same direction.
"Oh, no one. I was just taking in the crowd."
Jack gave the same warning to the other heron men, who could scarcely
wait to hear what Jack had discovered. Phil was glad he had not described
Adrian to his uncle Rupert. He could imagine what the fiery older man might
have done, despite the presence of royalty, if he knew Adrian was nearby.
Hun Tzu eventually introduced Galan to Phil. Remembering what he had
overheard at the news stand, Phil mentioned his new valet's name to see how
Lord Lymprod would react. Galan was quite surprised when Bill's name came
up in the conversation, but not embarrassed. In fact, he owned up to his
acquaintance with the young man at once.
"Bill is a sharp lad," he began earnestly. "Like so many others, he's
come to London to seek his fortune. I was urging him to return home, to
Sussex I believe it was, because this city is not kind to boys like him.
I'm glad he's fallen into good hands."
"I'm glad to hear my estimation of his character was correct,"
returned Phil, who was also pleased to know Galan was not an exploiter of
boys who were down on their luck. "I'll take good care of him."
Despite Lord Lymprod's diverting conversation, the rest of the evening
seemed to drag on interminably. The prince left after an hour or so, and
Matilda insisted that Rupert not overtax himself, so they followed soon
afterwards. Jack joined his friends in their coach and told them what they
were itching to hear, what he had learned as it jolted back to Lord St.
Croix's home.
Jack had discovered a devious plot from reading the mind of Adrian
Singleton. Phil was as surprised as the others to hear Adrian was a
relative of his by marriage, but it explained why his uncles found the name
familiar. Adrian was married to the sister of Lord Eurstone, who was in
turn married to Phil's cousin, Orabella.
"Don't tell me she's involved with this!" exclaimed Phil.
"She knows nothing about it," Jack reassured his friend. "Nor does
Lord Eurstone's sister. The prime mover in this plot is Lord Eurstone
himself."
"But why would he want to kill Rupert?"
"I'll need to read Lord Eurstone's mind to be sure, but from what I
got from Adrian, it is greed, pure and simple. Not knowing about Matilda or
Thomas, and thinking you would never return to England, even to claim your
inheritance, Lord Eurstone was hoping his wife would accede to the barony
and he would have ultimate control of the millions of pounds it represents.
He thought getting rid of Rupert would make Orabella the next in line, but
that wasn't enough."
"Howso?" demanded Phil.
"Lord Eurstone knows Eberhardine would never allow Orabella to take
control of the barony as long as you, the rightful heir, were alive. So he
had to dispose of her as well. He somehow managed to frame her for Rupert's
poisoning, killing, or so he thought, two birds with one stone. And he had
plans for you too, if you did show up."
"It's monstrous!"
"Wait a minute," began Mark, "I thought this Eurstone fellow knew
about Matilda and Thomas, because he had spies watchin' them."
"It was only after the poisoning that he found out about them," Jack
explained. "Matilda insisted on going to see Rupert when he first arrived
at Terrance's manor, and that was when Adrian's spies noticed her. After a
little research in the public records office, which has duplicates of
Indian colonial documents, Lord Eurstone discovered Rupert was married and
had a child."
"Was he going to kill them too?" Phil looked angry. Al and Mark both
moved at once to take his hands in an attempt to calm him.
"Like I said, I'd have to read Lord Eurstone's mind to know for sure,
but Adrian thinks the discovery spoiled all their plans, because he
personally wouldn't have anything to do with murdering a child. He's now
hoping that, whatever happens at the trial, he and his brother-in-law will
remain unsuspected and free."
"We have to expose them somehow!" muttered Phil. "I'm almost ashamed
to acknowledge that my grandmother isn't the easiest person on Earth to get
along with, but I can't let her be convicted of attempted murder when I
know she is innocent!"
"That will be difficult," Hun Tzu pointed out. "All we have is the
word of a telepath, and putting aside the fact that most people believe
telepathy to be a myth, it would be inadmissible as evidence at your
grandmother's trial."
"When is the trial?" asked Eben.
"Rupert told me it will begin next week." Phil answered.
"I think we should let Falling Star know what we've found and ask his
advice."
"That's a good idea, Eben," agreed Hun Tzu as the others nodded.
"I'll go talk to him as soon as I can, then," Jack volunteered.
"Thanks, but don't be in such a rush to go," smiled Phil, his thoughts
turning to a more pleasant subject. "After talking with Lord Lymprod, I was
intrigued by his description of the Alhambra, a bathhouse set up
exclusively for men. Would you all like to come with me and see it?"
A chorus of agreement followed Phil's suggestion. Arriving at
Fruitwood, they found everything was just as they had left it, and Rupert
pressed a sovereign into Bill's hand along with his thanks for watching
over his son. By then, Bill had discovered he was working for the nephew of
the nobleman whose poisoning had rocked and scandalized the gentry of
England and muttered his thanks in an awed voice. He looked at Phil
expectantly when his employer came up to him.
"Will you be needing me anymore tonight sir?"
"Perhaps. My friends and I are going out to a place our friend Lord
Lymprod recommended, the Alhambra. Do you know it?"
"Why, yes sir, I've heard stories about it, but I've never been there.
It costs a whole crown to get in, too much for me to afford! I understand
they keep the price high to exclude the lower classes."
"Don't worry about that, Bill," Phil smiled. "Would you like to join
us as our guest?"
"Yes sir, thank you sir!" he managed, a bit overcome by Phil's
generosity. "Would it be out of place to ask if I could invite my friend
Danny along?"
"Not at all. We can pick him up on the way."
"May I ask how you know Lord Lymprod? He has been very kind to me in
the past." Phil told Bill about the ball where they had met. "You saw the
Prince of Wales? Is he as handsome as I've heard?"
"Actually, I got a chance to speak a few words to him. He was kind
enough to wish my uncle a complete recovery from his ordeal, and Rupert
insisted on introducing me to him." Bill listened in wonder. Like most
provincial English, he had been raised to consider the royal family with
reverential awe. Bill's image of them were of glittering and remote
personages, like the gods of Olympus, looking down benevolently on their
subjects. "He is quite a fine figure of a man. I'm sure he'll make a good
king someday. Well, I'd better change into something less formal before we
go."
Bill followed Phil to the room he shared with Mark and Al. The door to
the adjacent room was open so they could talk with Eben, Jack and Hun Tzu
as they changed. Phil patiently showed Bill how a valet should take care of
his employer's effects and Bill carefully brushed, folded and hung the six
men's evening clothes away in the wardrobes.
Phil went to tell his host where he and his friends were going. He
found Clarence and Terrance in the library, deep in conversation over two
large maps, one of France and the other of the German Confederation,
spread out across Clarence's wide desk. Both older men knew about the
Alhambra and were sorry they could not come along, but assured Phil a
servant would be waiting up to let them in when they returned.
Calling for Clarence's coach, Phil asked Bill where his friend Danny
lived.
"We share a flat in Nell Gwyn Square."
"Did you hear that, Stephen?" Phil asked Clarence's driver.
"Yes sir. A rough area sir."
"Really? Isn't it near the houses of Parliament?"
"That's what makes it so sir," Stephen smiled. "More than one M.P. has
been caught in the convenience at the corner of St. Margaret's,
Westminster, performing 'lewd and lascivious' acts upon other men!"
Phil grinned at the coachman's bon mot before getting in with his
friends. The fog they had ridden through earlier had thickened and the
streetlights were spheres of yellow light. In between, the gray wisps
flowed and curled, obscuring the gaps between lampposts.
Stopping before the building Bill indicated, he went to get his
friend. Danny was amazed by what Bill had to tell him and came down in a
daze. Phil put him at ease and as Bill introduced Danny to the other heron
men, Phil looked at Stephen.
"Where to, sir?" the coachman asked.
"The Alhambra. In Edward II Street, if I remember correctly."
"You do sir. I know it well. Lord St. Croix likes to relax there
whenever he's had a hard day at the foreign ministry."
"You won't have to wait for us. We'll find a cab to take us home
later."
"Begging your pardon sir, but it'll be hard to find a ride this late
at night. May I leave the coach at a stable I know of nearby and join you?
His lordship has an account with the Alhambra for his servants so we can
come whenever we have free time."
"Of course," Phil smiled. He figured Clarence had, like Terrance,
sought out servants with his nature, and kept their loyalty by treating
them well.
After a short ride through the fogbound streets, the coach pulled up
before the brightly lit entrance of the Alhambra, decorated with arching
stonework wrought in a faux Arabian Nights style. It was evidently what the
average Englishman thought the outside of a mosque should look like.
Telling his passengers not to wait for him, that he would catch up with
them later, Stephen called to his team and clattered off to the stable he
had spoken of.
Phil led the way up the wide stone steps and pulled open one of the
massive double doors, the outer set protected by iron bars wrought in
sinuous patterns. Above those doors was 'The Alhambra Baths' in fancy
bronze letters. As an afterthought, someone had added a smaller sign
behind the glass of the door that read 'Men Only'.
The inner doors were mostly glass, but fogged, daunting any view of
the interior. The air within was warm and charged with dampness, carrying
many scents. But above all was the tang of masculine sweat, a miasma of
male pheromones that caused the heron men and their guests to feel
themselves becoming aroused. The men's boots sounded sharply on the
pristine, white tile floors of the lobby as they approached a wide desk
very much like what one would expect to see in a hotel.
Laying down two sovereigns for the group, Phil and the others were
led to a private room he paid extra for by a handsome attendant. Naked men
with or without towels draped carelessly over one shoulder or wrapped
around their waists wandered the dimly lit hallways, going to and from
their rooms or the open changing area with large lockers for the men's
effects. The heron men stripped unconcernedly, used to going nude in the
valley of the heron. Al, Bill and Danny were a bit more reserved at first,
but seeing their companions so blithe about being in a state of undress put
them at ease. The two younger men however could not help but stare in
astonishment at Phil's endowment when it was bared to their wondering eyes.
"Blimey!" gasped Danny.
"What a monster!" Bill added.
"Should I cover it up?" asked Phil, wrapping a towel around his waist.
"That might be a good idea, unless you want to draw a crowd!" chuckled
Danny.
The men emerged from their room carelessly naked except for Phil, who
took Danny's advice. Then Phil locked the door and hung the key around his
neck. The key fairly disappeared into the curly black hair that covered his
chest, nestling next to his Elxa glyphstone.
They went to the steamroom first, finding a small group of men
relaxing and chatting in the steamy atmosphere. They joined them and Phil
and the others coaxed Bill and Danny to share their life stories with them.
Both boys had come to London because they were 'so' as Danny put it, tired
of being the only ones in their home villages and looking for others like
themselves.
"We met on the way here," Bill said, glancing at his friend. "I was
following the road to London through western Kent and encountered Danny at
a fork in the road that led south to Sevenoaks, his home."
"We agreed to team up when we found out we were headed in the same
direction. And when we realized we were going for the same reasons, well,"
Danny grinned, "that was sort of the icing on the cake. Between odd jobs
and the generosity of lonely gentlemen who fancy young lads like us, we
were able to make enough to rent a flat together."
The boys listened in turn to the heron men describe their homes in the
mountain wilderness of Oregon. After that the men, all sweating profusely,
agreed it was time for a swim in the pool. On their way to it, they were
haled by Stephen.
He showed them through the shadowy passages that led to the showers,
which he explained were mandatory before using the pool. Danny and Bill
laughed at Stephen's reaction, much like their own, upon his first sight of
Phil's mighty phallus. As Stephen stuttered an apology, Mark assured him
that Phil was used to people staring at his equipment and not to feel bad.
After swimming and lazing around in the pool for awhile, Stephen
approached Phil and asked if he would like a massage. Phil was willing and
followed Stephen to one of the darkened cubicles that lined one side of the
pool chamber. As Phil lay down on the table he asked how much experience
Stephen had.
"Lord St. Croix asks me to give him rubdowns like this sometimes. He
says I have marvelous hands and arms. Just strong from handling his
lordship's horses, I guess. And I like doing it."
After a few minutes under Stephen's expert touch, Phil had to admit
the coachman made a competent masseur. In fact, he was perhaps a little
too good. Phil began to yawn plaintively as Stephen worked over his back.
"It's quite a complement to the masseur when his client goes to sleep
on him during the massage," smiled Stephen.
"Sorry. I've had a rather full day. But this is a wonderful way to end
it," Phil murmured, stretching and turning over.
"I'd certainly like to try this sometime," the coachman whispered,
stroking Phil's half-hard pole with his fingers.
"Are you sure? Many think it's beyond their capacities to take."
"I once had an affair with a man who was almost as big as you," he
explained, "and I learned how to like taking it."
"Do you have your own room at Fruitwood?"
"Actually, my quarters are next to the stables, but they're mine
alone."
"I see. Perhaps I could visit you tonight?"
"I would like that very much, Phil."
"Very well. Let's see if the others are ready to return."
While Phil had been getting his massage, the others had been exploring
the baths. Some had found congenial company to commune with and so it was
some time before Phil could round them all up for the return to Fruitwood,
finding the task somewhat like the proverbial herding of cats. He promised
them this would not be the last time they visited the marvelous bathhouse.
After speaking to Mark and Al, Phil asked Danny and Bill if they would
keep his partners company while Phil went to play with Stephen. They were
willing, but Danny said he would have to leave early to get to his kiosk.
Phil stoked his beard in thought.
"It occurs to me that perhaps asking Bill to be valet to so many of us
isn't such a good idea. He needs help. Would you like to enter my employ as
well, Danny?"
Danny was quite willing, but said he did not fancy taking on a
temporary position when he already had a steady job running his news kiosk.
Phil assured him he would find both of them permanent positions before he
returned to Oregon and they agreed. Once they were back at Fruitwood, Phil
left his valets to cuddle with Mark and Al while he went to share Stephen's
bed.
* * *
Jack in the meantime had gone through the tree Hun Tzu had opened on
Fruitwood's grounds, detoured through the spirit realm and came out of a
great fir tree that grew near the cave of mysteries, looking somewhat out
of place in the Cascade wilderness dressed in his English attire. He met
with the heron shaman, who said he would confer with his spirit helpers
and see if he could find a solution to his brothers' problem. Thanking him,
Jack returned to report to Phil.
There was still plenty of night left when Jack passed through the tree
that led into an isolated corner of Fruitwood's gardens. He scanned the
manor telepathically and smiled as he sensed everyone coupled, even
Terrance and Clarence, both resting comfortably in each other's arms. But
the heron man Jack sought was found in a small cottage built up next to the
stables at Fruitwood. Phil and Stephen were deep in a satisfied sleep,
having exhausted one another in love play. Gently, Jack planted the
knowledge that Falling Star was working on their problem into Phil's
sleeping mind.
Taking one last 'scan' around, Jack caught something from Eben. His
heron brother was having a bad dream, and as Jack probed, he figured out
why. Slipping into the manor, he made his way to the room Eben shared with
Hun Tzu and woke him.
"Jack?" Eben breathed, still dazed from his nightmare.
"I felt your distress and I know why it happened," the vampire
whispered back. "You need to transform and spend some time in your werewolf
form."
"You're right, I can feel the need."
"Come with me," Jack invited. "We'll prowl London by night together."
"What if I'm seen? I can't just disappear like you."
"Hmmm... " Jack smiled as he had an idea.
Sometime later, Jack was walking along the deserted streets. Eben was
by his side in his werewolf form. Every once in a while he shook his shaggy
form, not liking the feel of the dog collar he wore, which was attached to
a leash Jack held.
'This is not what I had in mind.' he telepathed to Jack. 'It's almost
degrading!'
'Think of the irony,' Jack returned merrily. 'A vampire out taking his
werewolf for walkies!'
Turing down a certain street, Jack paused before a modest townhouse.
'Why are we stopping?'
'Sense anything familiar?'
'Yes!' Eben acknowledged. "That scent... Is this where Adrian
Singleton lives?"
'Yes. I thought you ought to know so you can tell the others.'
'I will,' returned Eben, noting the street they were on, Courtenay
Court.
As Jack and Eben turned to retrace their steps, neither one was aware
of the eyes upon them. Two well dressed Victorian gentlemen stood together
in the shadow of a gate, as still as statues, more still than mortal flesh
could ever be. One, a handsome, bronze skinned man with long black hair and
an impressive beard to match, murmured to his companion, his words too low
for mortal ears to hear.
"So that is a werewolf. I thought they were a legend."
"Like vampires, Leo?" the other breathed. "But the other one... did
you sense his thoughts?"
"It was difficult. Someone has trained that fledgling well in
concealing his thoughts."
"Not just any someone... "
Leo caught a name from his lover's mind.
"Philip! Can it be true? That one knew Basil?! It's been so long
since we heard from him... "
"I intend to find out."
The rest of Jack and Eben's nocturnal explorations passed without
incident. Returning to Fruitwood, Eben invited Jack to his room and,
along with Hun Tzu, the three made love before Jack had to return to the
spirit realm as dawn approached. When Jack went to the tree that was the
portal, he found a letter tacked to it. 'Jack' was scrawled across the
outside. He read the letter, an invitation, and at once opened his mind
to the writer, whom he recognized from memories gained from Basil.
Thoughts flowed with supernatural speed between Jack and Basil's old
comrades from Constantinople, Philip and Leo. The vampires had long been
posing as English gentlemen, and currently they were living an elegant
Victorian lifestyle by night. They were glad to know Marcus and Basil still
lived, and thanked Jack for the news. They also invited him to return when
there was more time to talk and Jack agreed before transitioning into the
spirit realm.
In the next few days, Rupert brought his wife and son to Lionsgate
while the heron men and their young valets bounced back and forth between
Fruitwood and Lionsgate. Besides seeing the many sights of London, often in
the entertaining company of Lord Lymprod, they also went with Rupert to
Swansgrave Manor in order to escort Constantine and Eberhardine to a
rented manor at Kingston-upon-Thames in a show of family support.
The pretrial publicity had humbled Eberhardine. The dowager baroness
had reformed and sworn off meddling in her sons' affairs. She accepted
Rupert's new wife and son fully, glad that there finally seemed to be an
assured male succession to the ancient barony. She also said nothing about
Phil's obviously close relationship with Al, Mark or the other Americans.
Hun Tzu opened trees wherever ones could be found at a discreet
distance from the various manors they visited and Jack was able to carry
messages back and forth. At last, they received word from Falling Star. The
solution he came up with to their problem surprised his heron brothers with
its simplicity, but they had to admit it sounded as if it would work, since
they all knew well the reality of Falling Star's magic.
The night before the trial, Jack slipped into the courtroom at
Kingston-upon-Thames unseen, easily avoiding the night watchman. Working
quickly, he began looking for unobtrusive places around the chamber. In
each nook and cranny he could find, he placed small fetishes the shaman had
made, setting up a field of subtle energies within the chamber. Then he
left as stealthily as he had come, hoping Falling Star knew what he was
doing.
Phil and his friends were the first to arrive the next morning, and
placed themselves in the back row, on either side of the main doors, to
keep an eye on who came and went. Jack had told them he had done as the
heron shaman directed before he returned to the spirit realm. As Al, Hun
Tzu and Eben talked quietly, Mark turned to his lover, who looked worried.
"Don't fret, pard," he smiled, patting Phil's arm. "Falling Star
hasn't ever failed us."
"I know," Phil responded as he watched more people file in. He
stiffened as Adrian Singleton, his wife, his brother-in-law Lord Eurstone,
and his wife, Phil's cousin Orabella, came in. They passed by without
recognizing Phil. The big man turned to Mark. "I'm glad you're here," he
whispered.
"I know," Mark whispered back as Eberhardine entered the courtroom and
took her place. Her sons Constantine and Rupert sat nearby, as did Terrance
and Clarence.
At last the trial began. After the official preliminaries were out of
the way, the solicitor for Eberhardine, after some prodding by his
employer, her son Constantine, and with the agreement of the prosecution,
offered to bring forth a witness who would clear his client of the charges
against her. The judge was as skeptical as the prosecution, who knew as
well as anyone the nature of the evidence against the dowager baroness, but
allowed them to proceed, with the stipulation that the prosecutor question
the witnesses. The defense readily agreed.
"I call Adrian Singleton to the stand."
Adrian started. He had plainly not expected to be asked to give
evidence, and for good reason. As far as he knew, no one had the slightest
knowledge of his link to the poisoning. Apprehensively, he took the stand
and the prosecutor, who believed questioning this witness was a complete
waste of time, and possibly a ploy on the part of his opponent to drag
things out, struck directly to the heart of the matter.
"Mr. Singleton, do you have any personal knowledge about this crime?"
He began to answer, but paused. A strange look crossed Adrian's face.
His hand went to his throat.
"Sir?" the prosecutor prompted.
"Ye...ye...yes," the answer broke from Adrian's unwilling lips. There
was a stir in the courtroom and the annoyed judge banged his gavel sharply
at it. Hun Tzu leaned over and whispered to Eben.
"Falling Star's fetishes seem to be working. As he intended, no one
within the field of subtle energies set up by the fetishes can lie."
As Eben nodded, the prosecutor frowned at Adrian.
"Indeed? May I remind you, sir, that the police have been soliciting
information about this crime for some time? Why have you not come forward
with what you know?"
"I... I was paid to stay silent," Adrian replied, provoking another
stir in the courtroom. Again the judge banged his gavel and ordered
silence.
Adrian's face showed he did not want to speak, but could not help
himself. Lord Eurstone excused himself to his wife and rose to leave the
courtroom. But as he approached the door, Phil stood to bar his way.
"Let me pass, you bearded lout!" he whispered indignantly.
"Why, Reginald, is that any way to greet a relative?"
"Philip!" he paled. "What are you doing here in England?"
"Who paid you to remain silent?" the prosecutor demanded.
"Please let me pass, Philip, I must go. I feel... " Reginald tried to
say 'ill' but for some strange reason he could not say it. The power of
Falling Star's fetishes were preventing even the most casual of lies from
being spoken.
"You're about to feel a lot worse," rumbled Phil.
"My brother-in-law, Lord Eurstone."
At that, the whole court seemed to turn in the direction of the doors,
where Lord Eurstone was standing with Phil.
"Bailiff!" barked the judge. "Do not let that man leave the court!"
As the cringing lord was led back to his seat, the prosecutor turned
back to Adrian.
"What did he pay you to be silent about?"
"He... " Adrian struggled against the strange compulsion to confess,
but to no avail. "He poisoned Rupert!" he blurted out, provoking another
outburst from the court, which the judge stilled at once.
"How do you know this? Did you witness it?"
"No, he told me he had done it," Adrian wilted in defeat.
"Did he tell you why?"
"He hoped that his wife would succeed to the barony and he promised
me I would get a share of the riches it controls."
Orabella gasped and looked incredulously at her husband. Of the other
Caddell family members in court, only Phil did not react in the same way.
"I feel I must interrupt," the judge began. "As sensational as Mr.
Singleton's testimony is, it is entirely hearsay."
"Yes, Milord, of course," said the prosecutor, shaken by the sudden
turn the trial had taken. He had expected an open and shut case, not
anything like this. "You are excused, but do not leave the court. Milord,
I beg permission to call Lord Eurstone to the stand."
"So far, this proceeding has been highly unusual," the judge admitted,
"but I will allow it."
"Now, Sir," the prosecutor addressed Lord Eurstone after he had taken
the stand, "you have heard what your brother-in-law had to say. So I must
ask you: did you poison Rupert Caddell?"
"I... I did." His words, like Adrian's came out unwillingly.
"Are you saying your statements to the police on this subject were
false?"
"Yes," he admitted against his will.
"So you were not lost in a shrubbery maze with your wife on the
evening of the crime?"
"When I overheard that Rupert had ordered some soup, I... went out to
the maze with Orabella and separated myself from her on purpose." The
lord's face was red with the effort as he strove to stop himself from
speaking, but the words continued to spill out of him. "I had previously
marked the way out of the maze and went back into the house by way of the
servants' passage, where I saw Eberhardine leave the soup unattended. I
dosed it with the poison and went back to my wife, who was still lost in
the maze and naturally thought I had been in the same state. She knew
nothing of my plans."
"Milord," the defense counsel called out, leaping to his feet, "I move
for dismissal of all charges against my client!"
"Silence!" thundered the judge. He looked at Lord Eurstone. "Are you
aware of what you are saying? You have just confessed to attempted murder!
Are you saying this to spare your grandmother-in-law?"
"No," he replied, bowing his head.
"So you did do this crime?" the prosecutor asked.
"Yes."
"Why are you confessing now?"
"I don't know!" he cried, jumping up from his seat. "Something is
forcing me... I can't fight it!" He looked helplessly at his wife. "Forgive
me, Orabella... "
Before anyone could stop him, the distraught lord drew a gun from his
pocket and put it to his head. As wild shrieks went up from the onlooking
women in the courtroom, he pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot was
shockingly loud, making everyone recoil. Lord Eurstone fell heavily to the
floor, blood and gray matter gushing horribly from a hole in the side of
his head.
Adrian tried to make a break for the door, but Hun Tzu intercepted
him. A simple marital arts blow rendered him unconscious. The incident
almost went unnoticed amid the general tumult as the judge banged his gavel
and bellowed for his bailiff to restore order and call for assistance.
Al helped Phil pick Adrian up off the floor so he would not be
trampled by the exiting crowd and they moved to put him back in his seat.
His wife was too busy with Orabella, who had fainted, to notice. Then Phil
looked up in time to see his weeping grandmother being supported by her two
sons as all three were ushered out through the judge's chambers.
"Let's get out of here," he told the others, who were more than ready
to go.
* * *
"So I'm to have the honor of your final goodbyes?" Terrance asked as
he and the heron men shared another bottle of old wine on the patio
overlooking his gardens and the nearby Thames.
"Perhaps," began Phil, "perhaps not. There's a few things we wanted to
speak with you about."
They were all back at Riverview, after a few weeks of bouncing back
and forth between London, the Caddell estate in Surrey and Riverview as
everything was sorted out in the aftermath of the sensational day in court.
Now that Phil's family was relatively back to normal, the heron men were
ready to return home and had said their farewells. Al also, who was looking
forward to a new life with Phil and Mark in the valley of the heron. But
they wanted to see Terrance last because of some dreams Falling Star had
received concerning the good knight.
Terrance listened in growing wonder as Phil explained what had caused
Lord Eurstone's confession. Having been stationed in San Francisco for many
years, he had heard much about the ways of the Native Americans, but he had
never guessed their magic was real. After seeing with his own eyes what had
happened in court, he did not doubt Phil's story.
"Why are you telling me this, Philip?"
"Because Falling Star's spirit helpers have told him you are a man
worthy of his tribe's brotherhood. He wants you to visit him."
"I'm very flattered, but I never plan to go back to America." Terrance
glanced out towards the Thames and sighed. "I was looking forward to a
quiet retirement here at my home."
"Was?" prompted Hun Tzu.
"Clarence has asked me to join him in London as part of an emergency
diplomatic mission. It appears another war may break out soon on the
Continent, between Prussia and France, and he wants experienced foreign
servicemen like myself on his team."
"Will you stay with him in London?" asked Phil.
"Yes, of course... why do you ask?"
"There's one other thing I haven't told you about the Elxa tribe,"
Phil smiled. "It is composed only of men, men like you and us, men whose
love is reserved only for others of their own sex."
Terrance looked at the handsome men and realized what he had suspected
about them was true, but was still surprised.
"How... how did you know about me? Am I that obvious?"
"No," soothed Hun Tzu. "But the spirit helpers who protect and guide
our tribe seek out men like us and tell Falling Star about them."
"And there were your servants," Eben smiled. "They made us very
welcome, if you know what I mean."
"I do. I hired them because they were like me. I wanted Riverview to
be a haven for them, where they could be themselves."
"By the way, thanks again for hiring Bill and Danny. I know they'll be
loyal servants to you."
"I'm was glad to oblige you, Philip. But how could I be a part of your
tribe? Lovely as it sounds, we're separated by an ocean and a continent."
"To explain that fully would make the story of the Elxa seem even more
fantastic. Do you wish to hear more?"
"By all means. Do go on."
After Phil and the others finished explaining the other magicks known
to the Elxa, Terrance had to agree it was extremely fantastic. But the
proof was near at hand. He walked into the nearby woods with them and
watched in wonder as Eben seemed to vanish into a great tree amid a
strange, effulgent glow of eldritch light.
"So, Eben went to this 'spirit realm' you told me of?"
"Yes, and from there he will take another tree that will lead him to
Falling Star's home in the southern Cascades, about three days' ride east
from Port Bolon, where we met, remember?"
"Of course I remember. Egad, I know I belittled your appearance at
first, but once I knew who you were, I saw Rupert in you, as he used to be
when we were in college together."
"I know you love my uncle, and I'm glad for it. He'll need friends
like you, especially when he accedes to the title, or for advice on how to
handle Thomas as he grows up."
"I'm afraid all I know about children is how to spoil them," Terrance
laughed. "Should we wait for Eben, or will he be gone for awhile?"
"Awhile, I think."
"I hope he won't be late for dinner. Gilbert promised me a grand
farewell feast for you. But with this tree in my backyard, I hope you will
use it often to visit. Perhaps we could let my servants in on its secrets
as well, so they won't be surprised if you pop in at odd times."
"We'll speak to Falling Star about it when we see him."
"From what I know about them," added Mark, "your servants are heron
man material too!"
"Shall we go back to the house then? And perhaps speak more about the
Elxa?"
"Sure. There are many legends handed down to us from our heron
brothers who lived long ago." began Phil. "I would be pleased to share them
with you."
* * *
A tree near Lemolo Lake shimmered weirdly just before three men
stepped directly out of its trunk. They looked around, two of them taking
in the familiar sights. The third scanned his new home and found it
beautiful. Then they looked at each other.
"God, but it's good to be home," Phil breathed.
"I agree," returned Mark, "but I think I'll miss that fancy English
food!"
"We'll go back to visit Terrance soon," Phil promised as he took his
lovers' hands. "But first we have to take Al to see Falling Star."
"Yeah," smiled Mark. "We gotta make a heron man out of you!"
"You said there was an... initiation?"
As they walked up the path, Phil and Mark spoke of the vision quests
they had taken. Climbing higher, they saw their home. Almost at the same
moment, two figures emerged from it and went towards them.
"Thanks for takin' care of our place while we was gone," Mark said to
the pair of natives who had come to meet him and Phil when they saw them
approaching.
"It was our pleasure." Heyoka responded as his lover nodded in
agreement.
"We will eat well, later." Qoloma added.
"Oh? What have you made for us?" asked Phil.
"We have fillets of pike, fresh from the lake, crusted with acorn meal
and deep fried in goose fat, infused with mint."
"And," Heyoka went on, "we have cakes of pemmican, smoked venison
pounded with wild cherries, broiled with leeks in bear's fat."
"There is also a fine goose roasting, which I ought to return to. I
would not want it to burn!"
"That sounds wonderful, Qoloma!" Mark grinned.
"See, pard?" Phil smiled as he poked his lover. "You don't have to go
all the way to England for a gourmet meal!"
"Who is this?" asked Heyoka. Phil introduced Al and the natives
welcomed him to the Elxa warmly.
"Now," smiled Phil, pulling Mark and Al to him as the natives went
back to check on the progress of dinner, "I seem to remember Mark and I
were in the middle of something when Jim brought Terrance's letter to me.
Perhaps the three of us could carry on from there?"
"What were you doing?" Al asked.
"Well, I'd like to think Phil was gettin' ready to give me another
good screwin' in the middle of that big patch of wild mint we found! Maybe
you two could take turns on me!" suggested Mark.
"You get the blanket and the lube then!" the big man grinned. "Al and
I will be waiting for you up by the mint patch!"
* * *
THE END
* * *
of Big Lord Otter
the first epilogue to the series
'The Way Of The Heron'
by C. T. Creekmur
comments or suggestions are welcome at tcreekmur@hotmail.com
Copyright (c) 2009 by Charles T. Creekmur
"All Rights Reserved"
submitted to www.nifty.org 1/26/2009