Chapter Six: Bowerstone
The day was turning into early evening by the time Grant and his party spotted the city in the distance. At last, he thought as the great round towers flanking the gate came into view. Bowerstone.
Bowerstone's western gate, commonly known as the market gate, was wide enough for eight men to stand abreast, making it more than large enough to accommodate the scores of wagons, carriages, and wayfarers that passed through each day.
"Home sweet home," Lucy said with a hint of relief.
Beast barked in agreement.
"And we have you to thank for that," she said, scratching the dog behind the ear. Beast lolled his tongue and wagged his tail in delight.
"Traitor," Connor muttered.
He glared at the shaggy Alsatian. Beast ignored him completely and groaned with pleasure at the gentle caress of Lucy's fingertips. Lucy chuckled at the dog's insolence.
"Sorry Connor, but I think he's in love with me."
Connor snorted with contempt; but despite himself, the corner of his mouth curled upwards into a slight smirk. The burly adventurer was soon chuckling quietly to himself as his canine companion relished the attention from Lucy. He stole a lingering sideways glance at the young woman as he shifted the bundle over his shoulder into a more comfortable position.
He's not the only one, Grant thought as he eyed Connor warily.
Privately, he was relieved that the journey was nearing its end. It had been long and tedious, taking the rest of the day to make the arduous climb on foot towards Albion's largest city. Despite the fact that the journey had gone by without incident thanks to their escorts, Grant had come to dislike their presence.
Beast had taken an instant fancy to Lucy and guarded her jealously. The ill-tempered dog would snap his jaws, bare his fangs, and snarl at him whenever he came close to her. Lucy chided the dog several times, but it made no difference. Beast was relentless, and his master did little to curb his canine companion's behavior, swearing the dog wouldn't harm him so long as he did nothing to provoke him.
Grant wasn't reassured.
Worse, he didn't like the gleam in Connor's eyes when he looked at Lucy. It made him feel … uneasy. Even the ongoing debate between Connor and Lucy over ranged weapons did little to assuage his growing dislike for the adventurer.
"But why would you choose to carry a crossbow?" Lucy asked incredulously, "Blunderbusses are far more powerful, rifles have greater range, and pistols are faster to reload."
"Firearms make too much noise," Connor objected matter-of-factly, "Especially when you're out in the woods. Pull that trigger and everyone will know you're there and scarper off before you have a chance to reload. The flash and smoke from the barrel give away your position too. That's the last thing you need when you're hunting. Especially if you're after prey of the two-legged sort."
To make his point, Connor drew his crossbow, aimed it at some imaginary target in the distance, and squeezed the trigger. The only sound the weapon made was a muffled thrum from the string snapping free of the latch. The crossbow wasn't loaded of course, but that didn't diminish the effectiveness of the demonstration.
"Crossbows are much quieter. There's no flash. No puff of smoke. Nothing that could give away your position. And they're just as deadly as any firearm once you're within range."
"Maybe," Lucy conceded reluctantly, "But they're still too big, bulky, and cumbersome for my taste."
"Are rifles or blunderbusses any better?"
Lucy narrowed her eyes, "The crossbow's limbs are as wide as the stock is long, and it's easy to get them snagged on loose clothing, bushes, shrubs, and low-hanging branches when you're moving through the woods."
"Only if you're an amateur," he shot back.
They debated every facet of ranged weapons including size, weight, range, accuracy, and everything between. They even argued over ammunition: types, staggering power, penetration, carry capacity, even the differences in size and weight. The argument raged throughout the journey until Lucy finally demanded to examine Connor's crossbow for herself. To her surprise, Connor readily agreed. She took the crossbow from him and examined it with a tenderness that reminded Grant of a mother with a newborn babe. Lucy was a sucker for ranged weapons, and Grant had caught her stealing glances at the weapon several times. Thinking back, Grant was surprised it had taken her so long to ask. Especially considering how badly she had been itching to get her hands on it.
Constructed with high-quality steel and oak, Connor's repeating crossbow was surprisingly strong, lightweight, and well-balanced for a weapon of its size. The stock and handle fit comfortably in Lucy's hands, but it was the firing mechanism that impressed her the most. The crossbow could hold five quarrels inside a hidden magazine, and with a single pull of the trigger, it would launch a quarrel, pull the string back, and load the next quarrel so that it was ready to fire again almost immediately. It was a remarkably sophisticated feat of design and engineering. Even Grant, who didn't care much for ranged weapons, was suitably impressed.
"Where did you get this?" she asked, handing the weapon back reluctantly.
"Years ago," Connor began, "A blacksmith named Mason hired me to rescue his son, Earl, from some slavers that had taken him captive along with half of their village. Beast and I tracked them to the Bandit Coast, killed the slavers, and freed his son and the villagers. Mason didn't have enough gold to pay me, so he fixed my weapons and equipment for no charge. As it turned out, his son was a gifted weaponsmith. I had a light oak crossbow at the time, but it had been damaged during the fight with the slavers. Earl came to me and said that he had an idea that he wanted to try out, and so he rebuilt it into this repeating crossbow. It was his way of thanking me for rescuing him and his friends."
Connor gave the weapon an approving look before replacing it on his hip. "It was well worth it. This crossbow has saved my life more times than I can remember. It's been my best friend for the better part of seven years now."
Beast gave him a low growl.
"All right! Second best friend," Connor growled back, "You mangy mutt."
The wind whispered through the air and brushed Lucy's bronze hair across her face. Grant gazed forlornly at her as she tucked the loose strands behind her ear. Reaching surreptitiously into his coat pocket, he fingered the tiny ring box concealed within.
Soon, he promised himself. Very soon. Once we have a chance to be alone…
"Earth to Grant!"
Grant's heart jumped into his throat as the sound of Lucy's voice cut through his private thoughts.
"I'm sorry," he gulped, "What did you say?"
"I said, 'Do you think they're okay?'"
Grant furrowed his brow. "Who?"
Connor rolled his eyes.
"Linus, Sabrina, and David. Do you think they're okay?" Lucy sighed impatiently.
A flush of guilt crept up the young nobleman's neck.
"Oh," was all Grant said as he awkwardly tugged at his collar. Thinking back to their late traveling companions―the older merchant, his wife, and the younger merchant―he wondered what had become of them. When he had last seen them, Linus was lying beside his brother in the back of a wagon with his wife Sabrina hovering over him as it rolled away towards Bowerstone.
The wound Grinner's henchmen had inflicted upon the older merchant was horrendous. A long jagged laceration that ran from shoulder to navel. Despite his age and the injuries sustained in the crash, Linus did not hesitate to throw himself between the bandits and his wife during the ambush. The struggle was short and brutal, ending with a pommel-blow to the gut and a single sword stroke. Sabrina witnessed the blow that felled her husband and feared the worst when she saw him collapse face down onto the ground.
Grant had also assumed Linus was dead, but as he went down to one knee to examine Linus's body the older merchant's eyes shot open and he suddenly grabbed Grant's throat. Still reeling from the fight with Grinner and his bandits, Grant didn't have the strength to pry free from Linus's iron grip. But when he saw Sabrina's smiling tear-streaked face hovering over him, Linus came to his senses and let go of the younger man's throat. Lucy and Sabrina helped Linus to sit up against the side of the carriage and gave him some of Connor's healing potion. Within moments, the bleeding stopped, and Linus's breathing returned to normal. They then focused on cleaning, dressing, and binding his wounds.
"I hope so," Grant said wistfully.
"They had better be," Connor muttered coldly, "Considering what it cost me."
"Connor…" Grant began.
"ENOUGH!" Lucy snapped, cutting Grant and Connor off before they could say another word. The sudden flash of anger caught them by surprise. Even Beast gave her a wide berth.
"Connor, we've been over this," Lucy said, drilling him with a hard-eyed look, "There was no way we were going to leave them behind. The carriage was destroyed, the driver was dead, the horses were gone, and David and Linus were hurt. How was Sabrina supposed to get her husband and brother-in-law to Bowerstone all by herself?!"
Connor opened his mouth, but quickly closed it again and said nothing. The hard look in Lucy's eyes softened a little, but she didn't relent. "I'm sorry that it took all of the gold and weapons you looted, but it was the only way to convince that farmer to take them back with him to Bowerstone."
Thinking back on it, Grant still couldn't believe their luck. What were the odds that a farmer would be driving a wagon through the woods just when they needed him most? Connor had dismissed it as a mere convenience of coincidence, but Grant was convinced both then and now that it was divine intervention from the Lords of Light. It was the answer to Grant's silent prayers that they would find a way to save Linus's and David's lives.
Even so, they soon discovered that even divine intervention comes with a price.
Although the farmer had been sympathetic enough to their plight he flatly refused to help them, arguing that he didn't have enough room for passengers and that his precious cargo of fruits, vegetables, and fodder would either be spoiled or have to be discarded, which meant that he would lose a great deal of money.
It was only through a combination of Sabrina's pleading, a few honeyed words from Lucy, a sum of gold from Grant, and all of Connor's loot as compensation that the farmer finally agreed to take Linus, Sabrina, and David in his wagon. The farmer also agreed to deliver a pair of messages from Grant to his brother Donald, and Lucy to her brother Kevin. The notes not only informed them of everything that had happened but also gave them instructions to see to it that their travel companions received every possible care and attention.
Unsurprisingly, Connor had not been pleased with the arrangement. He only consented after Grant swore to reimburse him for the value of the loot in addition to the fee he had already been promised for escorting him and Lucy back to Bowerstone. Despite Grant's assurances, Connor was still salty about having to hand over his prized loot over to someone that he didn't believe could be trusted, all to save three strangers that he believed should have been left behind to fend for themselves.
"Besides, Grant has already promised he would repay every penny you lost. Remember what Grant said to Grinner? 'When a Fairfax gives his word, he keeps it no matter what'. And when Grant makes a promise, he keeps it," She turned and looked at Grant significantly, "No matter what."
The wink she gave him made Grant grin lopsidedly.
"If you say so," Connor resigned.
The grin on Grant's face abruptly vanished when he gazed up at the long row of spikes crowning the parapets above the gate. Some were adorned with the heads and hands of criminals, dissidents, and traitors. Thick clouds of flies swarmed over the impaled heads and hands, most of which were green and curled his lip in disgust at the sight and felt his stomach twist as the rank stench of decaying flesh assaulted his nostrils. He could understand the rationale behind the practice of mounting heads and hands above the gates. It was meant to serve as a warning to bandits, outlaws, and the citizens inside the city of the fate that awaited them if they defied the law, but Grant still hated it.
A pair of tall, wide-shouldered, muscular sentries stood guard at the gate clad in the red and blue uniforms of the Albion guard. Each carried a longsword, a flintlock pistol, and a badge upon their half-cloaks that was emblazoned with the municipal seal: a golden crenulated tower balanced by the scales of justice with a golden crown ascendant upon a blue field. The guards eyed them warily as they neared the gate, but made no attempt to stop them, ushering them through with a nod and a wave of the hand.
The group emerged onto a cobblestoned square that opened onto Bower Bridge, which spanned the River Bower into the heart of the Bowerstone marketplace. A small guardhouse, open-air general store, and an assortment of merchant stalls graced the square's right side. A small barracks and the coach-house with its adjoining stables graced its left side. Two guards emerged from the guardhouse. The first was balding with a salt and pepper beard and soft brown eyes. The second was shorter and had a thick mustache and hazel eyes.
"Oi! Lucy!" Called out one of the guards, "It's about time you finally showed up!"
"Biggs! Wedge!" Lucy shouted back as she broke off from the group and headed towards them, "I don't think I've ever been so happy to see you miserable blokes in all of my life."
The stern expressions on their faces gave way to crooked smiles, and the wary look in their eyes sparkled with twinkles of mirth. Lucy was a familiar sight to most of the guards. Her brother, Kevin, was a sergeant in the Albion Guard and was regarded as one of the finest law enforcement officers in the city. Over the years, Kevin had made it a point to introduce his sister to his fellow officers and guards. Consequently, they had all grown quite fond of her and treated her like a kid sister.
Their conversation was short. Biggs and Wedge informed Lucy that Kevin had been here earlier this morning waiting for her to return, but when the farmer arrived with her note he personally saw to it that Linus, Sabrina, and David received the care they needed.
"So where is he?" Sabrina asked.
"On patrol in Old Town," Wedge answered.
"Duty calls?" Lucy asked with a crestfallen look.
"Yeah," Biggs confirmed sympathetically, "Duty calls."
"We were already on the roster for gate duty today," Wedge said, ignoring the uncomfortable silence that hung in the air, "So the sergeant asked us to keep an eye out for you."
"Has there been any word on Linus or David's condition?" Grant asked the guards.
"Sorry, but there's been no word," Biggs answered.
"Then again," Wedge interjected, "We've been stuck at the gate all day. No doubt the sergeant will know more when he gets here."
"How long will he be?"
"Not long," Wedge assured him, "We sent one of the guards to find him and let him know that you were here as soon as we saw you coming down the road."
"It would be best if you waited here until then," Biggs suggested.
Grant gave them his thanks and took a seat on one of the benches next to the coach-house. Bowerstone was a large city, so it could take well over an hour before word of their arrival reached Kevin down in Old Town, and another hour for him to make his way back to the gate. With so much time on his hands, Grant toyed with the idea of finishing "A Perilous Adventure, Bronze Edition", but something else caught his attention.
Lionhead Castle could be seen in the distance looming over the city like a crown on Bower Hill, but it was the square's centerpiece that caught Grant's eye: a sculpture of an armored knight wielding a lance in one hand, pointing his sword in the other hand towards some distant foe, ready to charge into battle upon a pig that was twice his size. Grant leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees and furrowed his brow at the statue. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Lucy taking the seat next to him.
"What're you thinking about?" she asked.
Grant blinked. "Huh? What did you say?"
Lucy gave him a knowing look.
"Oh c'mon, Grant," she chided, "Your face is more scrunched up than a mastiff's. Either you're trying to pass a stone, or you're contemplating the answer to another of life's great mysteries."
"You know me too well," Grant sighed theatrically.
"More than you know," she teased, "So? Have you solved the mystery?"
Grant cupped his chin in his right hand, cocked his head to the side, and regarded the sculpture with narrowed eyes.
"Not yet," he admitted. It was a vexing question, especially in light of the many, many hours he had spent researching at the city's library. Despite his best efforts, he never found the answer to the mystery of the statue. Then again, neither had anyone else.
"What're you going on about?" Connor asked, setting the bundle over his shoulder onto the ground next to the bench.
"The statue," Grant replied, "I'm trying to figure out the mystery behind it. It's an utterly vexing and fascinating enigma."
"The statue?!" Connor said with an edge of skepticism, "Pull the other one."
"No, seriously," Grant said, "Haven't you ever wondered about it?"
Connor narrowed his eyes, "It's a bloody statue of a knight riding a pig. What's there to wonder about?"
"For starters," Grant began, "Who made the statue? How did they make it? Did they make it here? Or did they have it moved? If so, how did they move it? And why did they move it here? For that matter, why would anyone go to the trouble of making a statue of a knight riding a pig? Did someone order it? If so, who ordered it? And why? Is it a commentary, perhaps, upon the foolishness of knight-errantry and chivalry in these modern times? Or is there a deeper meaning behind it? No one seems to know the answer to any of these questions, nor what the story is behind the statue in the first place. It's like an old puzzle box that no one's been able to crack, and that's what makes it so fascinating."
"Or else it's just some sculptor's drunken idea of a joke," Connor retorted.
Grant was appalled by the suggestion, but Lucy was smiling and trying very hard to suppress her chuckling. Grant looked at her, then Connor, then back again at the statue. Whatever the answer, he had to admit that the sight of an armored knight riding a pig was ludicrous.
"Grinner was right, you really are a bloody Muppet."
And with those words, the burly adventurer picked up his bundle, slung it over his shoulder, and turned to leave, "But at least you know which end of a sword to hold."
"Wait a minute," Lucy called out, "Where are you going?"
"To collect the bounty," he said, indicating the sack slung over his shoulder, "The Sheriff doesn't like to be kept waiting. Besides, they're starting to stink. If I wait any longer they'll rot into bloody ruins, and I want to collect my pay before that happens. So if you'll excuse me…"
"Just a moment," Grant said, quickly getting to his feet. He stretched his hand out and offered it to Connor, "Before you go, I just wanted to thank you once again for everything you did on our behalf: saving us from the bandits, escorting us home, your help with Linus, Sabrina, and David, we can't thank you enough for it. We owe you a great debt."
"A debt which you'll be paying?" Connor pointedly asked.
"Of course," Grant said with his hand still outstretched, "Once you've collected the bounty, come and find me in Uptown for the rest of your payment."
Connor eyed the young nobleman for a long moment, "Just make sure you're at the gate with my gold ready."
"I will," Grant assured him, "Five hundred gold plus the value of the gold and weapons looted from the bandits. You have my word."
"Until next time, Muppet," Connor said as he clasped the offered hand, gave it a firm shake, and nodded in agreement. Beast's ears pricked up as his master let out a shrill whistle.
"Beast!" he commanded, "Come!"
The dog rose to his feet, looked at his master, then back again at Lucy, reluctant to leave her side after spending so much time with her.
"It's all right, go on," she encouraged.
Beast gave her hand one last affectionate lick before padding to Connor's side. When the dog looked up at his master and groaned balefully at him, Lucy couldn't help but giggle to herself. Connor ruffled the dog's head, turned on his heel, and marched towards the bridge and into the city with his prized sack of bandit heads and hands slung over his shoulder. Connor stole one last glance at Lucy out of the corner of his eye, then disappeared into the crowd.
Finally, Grant thought as Connor and Beast disappeared from sight. Lucy sauntered to his side, hooked her arm with his, and rested her head against his shoulder. Grant placed a hand upon hers and gave it an affectionate squeeze.
"Thank you, Grant."
"What for?"
"For everything: The carnival, the presents, standing up to the bandits, helping me with Linus and David," she tightened her grip around Grant's arm, "But especially for Beast and Connor."
"Lucy, I…" Grant's words were cut off by a loud growl in the pit of his stomach. He felt the heat rising in his cheeks as they turned a deep shade of red. Luckily, Lucy either didn't notice or didn't care.
"Come on," she said, taking Grant by the hand.
"Where are we going?"
"To get some nosh to eat."
"But, what about your brother?"
"What about him?"
"The guards said we should wait…"
"Don't sweat it," she said dismissively, "We're not going far, Kevin won't have trouble finding us. Besides, the stalls are about to close and I'm starving!"
She quickly led them towards the food stalls on the bridge. They were just in the nick of time. With their food in hand, they settled into one of the pedestrian refuges on the bridge's eastern end that overlooked the river's southern course to enjoy their meal. Over the next hour, they savored grilled dubious whitefish fillets, a trencher of black bread, some howling cheese, and a bottle of Bowerstone brown beer to wash it all down.
The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time they were finished. The breeze grew chilly as the sun's warmth faded. The vendors promptly closed their stalls for the night. The few remaining shoppers quickly scattered, no doubt eagerly anticipating the warm hearth fires that awaited them in their homes or the local tavern. The wind rippled across the surface of the river Bower, carrying the smells of the city with it.
Lucy turned to face the incoming wind and inhaled deeply, "Smells wonderful doesn't it?"
Grant sniffed at the air and immediately began to cough violently as his nostrils were assaulted by the distinct aroma coming from the river. It was a rank smell that was equal parts sweet, rotten, and sour, and it took all of Grant's will not to double over and retch his supper up right then and there.
"Smells like a wet rat that's been swimming in rotten eggs, dead fish, and week-old miasmic cheese," Grant spat out between coughs.
"More like 'political commentary' if you ask me," Lucy remarked sarcastically as she leaned forward and breathed in the noxious air. Grant coughed in agreement. "Political Commentary" was a popular phrase coined by Bowerstone's lower classes. It was a euphemism for the buckets of slop that the servants of the toffs of Bower Heights tossed onto the streets at night.
"Home sweet home," she said with a rueful smile.
Grant snickered quietly to himself.
Glancing at his surroundings, he saw that the horizon was ablaze with the last light of the fading sun, and the brightest stars were now visible in the coming night sky. The bridge was strangely quiet and peaceful with no crowds or merchants hawking their wares. It was only then that he realized that he and Lucy were all alone.
Lucy was smiling widely with her eyes closed, savoring the gentle caress of the wind as it brushed her face and mussed her hair. It was one of the loveliest sights Grant had ever seen. Standing on the bridge breathing in the river's noxious odor would never have been his first choice for a marriage proposal setting, but the moment just felt so right.
"Lucy?" he asked tentatively.
"Yes?"
He took her hands into his and looked deep into her eyes.
"There's something that I…" Grant said, reaching into his coat pocket. Just as he clasped his fingers around the ring box, he felt something cold and metallic press into the small of his back.
"No sudden moves," A deep, rumbling voice commanded.
"What in the?!" was all that escaped his lips before he heard the metallic click of a hammer being cocked. Grant immediately froze.
No! No! NO! Grant thought furiously as he recognized the voice. NOT NOW! "Kevin?"
"Hands up where I can see them," barked Kevin.
Grant did as instructed.
"What did I tell you about putting your hands on my sister?" He asked softly with a hint of menace.
Grant was glad that Kevin couldn't see the irritated expression on his face. "That if I ever laid a hand on her you would shoot me?"
"Oh for the love of … KEVIN!" Lucy snapped, "Put the gun DOWN!"
Lucy indignantly swept around Grant, drew her pistol, and aimed it at her brother's face.
"That's a nice piece you've got there," Kevin said, giving the weapon an approving look before meeting his sister's fiery eyes.
"Want to see what it can do?" Lucy asked mock-sweetly as she clicked off the safety and cocked the hammer. Kevin didn't flinch.
The tension in the air grew thick as the two siblings stood off against each other, one holding a gun to his sister's boyfriend, and the other pointing a gun at her brother's face. A long and agonizing moment passed. Then quite suddenly, Kevin clicked the safety on, withdrew the weapon from Grant's back, and holstered it over his shoulder in one smooth motion.
"I wish you would stop doing that," Grant said, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
"The day I stop is the day when you prove to me that you're ready to protect my little sister," rumbled Kevin.
"He doesn't need to protect me, Kevin; not as long as I'm around to protect him," Lucy said, teasing Grant with a sly smile and a wink. Kevin snorted derisively at Grant.
Turning to his sister, Kevin compressed his lips into what passed for a smile on his grim face, then suddenly lifted her off her feet and pulled her into a powerful bear hug. Lucy was breathless with laughter as her brother spun her around.
Kevin was more rugged-looking than his sister with his square jaw, dimpled chin, and sharp cheekbones. His nose was similar to Lucy's but it had been broken more than once. He also had the same bronze-colored hair and green eyes, but where Lucy's eyes were sharp, lively, and lustrous, Kevin's eyes were cold, steely, and unflinching. Most guards sported burly beards, ragged hair, and carried the traditional longsword and flintlock pistol. In contrast, Kevin kept his hair closely cropped, his face clean-shaven, and he carried a heavy iron mace and a blunderbuss.
Grant once asked him why he carried such heavy weapons. As he recalled, Kevin had asserted that the mace was a more practical and effective weapon for law enforcement. "Swords are too messy," he explained, "And they require extensive training and skill to wield effectively. The mace, on the other hand, requires little in the way of training or skill, so it can be used by anyone. In the right hands, a mace is just as effective as any sword when it comes to assault or defense. They can be used to storm buildings, smash windows, and break down locked doors or other barriers with ease, which makes them ideal weapons during riots or sieges. Also, they don't break the skin; they just break the bones beneath. Bandits, outlaws, and other such lawbreakers can't run away or resist arrest if their arms and legs are broken. Besides, there's nothing more satisfying than the CRUNCH of a bandit's bones breaking."
As much as he extolled the virtues of his heavy iron mace, Kevin's true pride and joy was his unique blunderbuss. Though it was austere in appearance and possessed little in the way of adornment, Kevin had designed and built the firearm himself. It was twice the size and caliber of ordinary steel blunderbusses, making it one of the largest, heaviest, and most powerful guns Grant had ever seen. Kevin didn't admire heroes as his sister or Grant did, but he had taken to the idea of naming his weapons, christening his custom-built blunderbuss: "Upholder". It was a fitting name for the weapon, especially in the hands of an officer as dedicated to law, order, and duty as him.
Grant cleared his throat loudly, "I hate to interrupt this joyous reunion, but has there been any word about Linus or David? The guards at the gate said that you might know more."
Kevin's grim smile vanished, "You mean the merchants that showed up at the gate this morning?"
Grant nodded in agreement, "How are they?"
"Are they all right?" Lucy asked with some trepidation.
"For the moment," Kevin confirmed, "Linus is recovering at the hospital."
"What about Sabrina?" Lucy's eyebrows went up, "How is she?"
"Getting some much-needed rest at the hospital, or so I hope. The poor woman's been beside herself worrying about her husband. She refused to leave his side, even when the surgeon forbade her from going into the operating room with him. We had no choice but to restrain her. She resisted of course, but by then she was too exhausted to put up much of a fight. Still, it's been a long time since I've seen a wife so devoted to her husband."
"Can we see them?"
"I'm afraid not. Linus's wounds reopened on the way to the hospital. The surgeon was able to stop the bleeding and close up the wound, but he's concerned that too much excitement could cause it to open again. For the time being, only immediate family members are allowed to visit. Linus is going to need some time to recover from his wounds."
"How much time?"
"Hard to say. The surgeon's done everything he can, but it could take a week, a fortnight, or even a month; but the important thing is that he will live. He'll have a nasty scar to show for it, but he'll live."
"What about their expenses?" interjected Grant, "I sent instructions that Linus, Sabrina, and David would want for nothing medically or financially."
"There's no need to worry," Kevin assured him, "Your brother has already taken care of it. I believe his exact words were, 'When a Fairfax gives his word, he keeps it no matter what.'"
"I can't tell you how much of a relief that is to hear."
"Wait a minute," Lucy said, suddenly narrowing her eyes at her brother, "You haven't said anything about David. Is he all right?"
Kevin met her eyes and frowned, "He died on the way here."
A long moment passed before Grant found his voice, "How did he die?"
"He bled to death on the way here."
"How can that be?" Lucy asked in disbelief, "He didn't have any wounds on his body."
"David died from internal bleeding. The surgeon examined his body and determined that the bouncing of the wagon aggravated his injuries from the crash and caused the bleeding. He was already dead by the time they reached Bowerstone."
"No," groaned Grant.
He stared at the ground, mouthing a silent prayer to the Lords of Light for them to guide David's spirit to the realms above, and for them to bless and strengthen his brother and sister-in-law in their own trials. Hearing the approach of footsteps, Grant looked up to see Lucy fighting back the tears in her eyes.
"We did everything we could," Lucy said, taking his hand in hers. Grant could only nod in agreement.
"We sent word to the gravekeeper shortly thereafter," Kevin said coolly, "He's taken the body back to the cemetery with him to prepare it for burial."
"So soon?" Grant asked incredulously.
"There was no other choice. By the time we got him to the hospital, David's body had already started to rot. The gravekeeper was adamant about needing to take care of it right away before it could decay any further."
Grant understood the logic, but he still didn't like it. Everything was coming at him all at once, and what he wanted most was a moment to catch his breath. Unfortunately, Grant soon learned that he wouldn't be getting his wish.
"Come on. Let's go," Kevin said, gesturing for Grant and Lucy to follow.
"Wait … what the?" Grant sputtered, "Where are we going?"
"Your brother wants to speak to you."
"I see," Grant said, shuffling his feet uncomfortably, "I'll see him after I've taken Lucy home."
"That won't be necessary," Kevin said firmly, "He's waiting for you in the market square."
"The square?"
"Mmm-hmm," hummed Kevin.
"At this late hour?"
"I'll take you to him. After that, I'm taking Lucy home."
Lucy fixed her brother with a hard look, "I don't need you to walk me…"
"Yes you do," Kevin cut her off sharply, "You know the streets of Old Town are too dangerous for a young woman to walk alone. Especially when it's dark out. I won't accept 'no' for an answer, Lucy. Not this time!"
The argument that ensued was short and brutal, but ultimately Lucy agreed to let her brother escort her home. They headed west across the bridge, passed the stairs that led to the wharf below, and entered the town square. If Lionhead Castle was the crown that sat upon its head, then the market was Bowerstone's beating heart. One of Albion's greatest centers for trade and commerce, the Bowerstone market was home to alchemists, apothecaries, barbers, blacksmiths, cooks, gem-cutters, jewelers, tailors, weaponsmiths, and all manner of merchants and traders both scrupulous and unscrupulous.
The marketplace was framed by two- and three-story half-timber-framed buildings with brown bricks and sharply-peaked slate tiled roofs. Three roads branched outwards from the marketplace: the Sovereign Road, which led east towards the city's most opulent neighborhoods; the Old Town Road, which turned north towards Bowerstone's oldest and poorest district; and the Moonfish Road, which wound south towards the wharves and docks.
At the market's center was a massive scaffold that towered over the nearby buildings. Canvas tarps covered the scaffolding and kept whatever was being constructed inside hidden from view. Guards had been stationed day and night around the site to deter curious onlookers and vandals, but Grant noticed they were gone. Instead, the construction site was surrounded by men clad in all-black uniforms and purple half cloaks. Grant stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the spiraling black dragon and golden crown badges pinned to their uniforms.
The Count's bodyguards? What are they doing here?
Another bodyguard emerged from behind one of the tarps at the scaffold's base. He was clad in an ornate black-enameled cuirass, gauntlets, and greaves. His face was concealed beneath an executioner-style mask that made his cold eyes more frightening to behold. The guard positioned himself off to the side and held the flap open. More guards emerged and took up flanking positions to either side of the opening.
Donald was the first to emerge from the scaffolding, followed by another man that was covered in black from head to foot, save for a regal purple-colored sash draped across his left shoulder. A great spiraling black dragon & golden crown sigil was emblazoned upon the sash.
Grant sucked in his breath and felt a cold chill in the air as the man stood before him with his hands resting upon the carved ivory dragon's head on his gold-banded black cane.
Blimey! It's the Count!