New non canonical TTM 2011 characters will be introduced in this chapter and while I claim no right to either Dumas' novels or Anderson's film - my characters here are entirely mine … Ahhh to dream such sweet dreams …

The Cat and Cliff

In an unremarkable village in Sussex, stood an unremarkable tavern – it had stood on that spot for not quite three hundred years and in that time it had used many names – she knew them all. The Three Kings, Queens Crown, The Red Hill, Horned God, Oak and Crown, Broken Cup, The Dancing Dog, Sun and Star, Four Lions, New Crown, Apple Tree… Now it was the Lion on the Precipice and was commonly referred to by its patrons as the Cat and Cliff. A painted sign of a lion poised on the edge of a dramatic promontory identified it to those who could not read well, but the artist's vision had passed his skills - so the 'lion' looked more like a well fed ginger tom. It was a motley place, offering assorted ales, porters, beers, some wines, brandy and mead. A fire and a simple meal and sometimes a bed for the night could be found there. The Cat and Cliff was unremarkable, unnoticeable and utterly ordinary and was thus very popular with the most unusual clientele. The very most unusual clientele…

That night in a tall heavy chair a body sprawled by the fire. Long legs in simple leggings, tall brown boots, and a padded doublet of rusty red brown – all of which had seen better days and had been much worn and mended, and a simple broad brimmed hat had been pulled lower over the travelers head so no one would really be able to see the face. Not that it mattered, as no one was looking. The tavern was - if not noisy - full of the distracting chatter any public place might be and as patrons came and went regulars were often convivially ignored or greeted boisterously. The tavern keeper knew well who to see and who to ignore. A man of near six feet entered in a travel stained cloak – he doffed his hat and glanced at the tavern owner who promptly handed him a tankard, nodded to the fireplace and then ignored him. He was a regular there. The man smiled quietly, his brilliant pale green eyes sparkling over the lip of the tankard as he drank and ran his fingers over the dark hairs on his closely shorn scalp. He worked his way to an empty table and settled himself, watching the fire and enjoying the general banter. A serving girl brought him a dented pewter plate with a few sausages, bread and some leeks. He ate. The body in the tall chair never moved. After some time the man yawned, rubbed his salt and pepper stubble and placed some copper coins near the empty plate. He gestured with his tankard, his eyes still on the fire. Another maid took the coins, the plate, refilled his drink and slipped a key in his hand. He smiled at her. He was a regular and he knew where the stairs were and where his room was. Glancing again at the fire he noticed that the chair was empty. He moved through the crowd and took a candle with him up the stairs to the small room at the end of the hall. The door was locked. But his key fit and as he entered he noticed that a small fire had already been lit.

"Hello Llewellyn" a pale youth greeted him in a soft voice. The figure from the fireplace stood in his room, and discarded the hat that had been pulled low. Short Silver white hair and eyes like moss starred at him, a faint smile teasing him from across the room.

"Hello Evans - you cheeky thing" he murmured as she laughed at his greeting. "Gods, how I've missed you." He moaned kissing the hollow of her throat as he began pushing the edges of the collar of her loose shirt down to expose her shoulder as his fingers undid her doublet. "You smell like wind and rain. Did you fly here my pretty witch?"

"Not practical" she smiled "although if that idiot Buckingham is going to by any less subtle with his gaudy toys it might begin to draw less attention than horses or ships"

"Do you ever wear dresses?" The taller man asked distractedly as he pulled her loose linen shirt out from her leggings and slid his hands possessively over her hips. "I 'm not complaining of course, I was just ummm - curious."

"Do you my pretty Owen?" she answered him – "Petticoats and dirigibles are not the best of combinations…Maybe I might try a frock – now that I see that you're into that sort of thing… Maybe?"

"Well did your darling Baroness D. offer up any new clockwork toys?"

"Llewellyn - I had best keep you two far apart…"

"Oh my - don't you trust me?"

"You? No, I know you my heart- and I don't trust you at all." She laughed again "But my Baroness is clever and witty…"

"Ah would I like her?"

"No doubt my darling…She might well like you too… almost everyone likes you…"

"Buckingham doesn't…" he almost sulked

"Buckingham's a fool… a brightly feathered fool."