Chapter 05 | The Voice of the King
Irwin stood slowly and strode across the mahogany paneled dining room to the sideboard and regarded the array of crystal decanters that were lined there. Selecting one, he pulled the stopper out and swirled the contents sniffing the air above the opening slightly. As he did, he thought about all the soldiers back in the barracks and the meager provisions they had to subsist on. He nodded approvingly then brought the vessel back to the table where his guest sat.
The remnants of a large, elaborate feast was strewn across the broad table. Though he only had one guest, it was a significant visitor and no expense had been spared. It was one of the king's personal messengers Hermius Cantor and as he had watched him devour every edible item in sight, Irwin had been relentlessly questioned about the failure to assassinate Krista.
Hermius sat in a resplendent mess, surrounded by empty dishes covered in various sauces. Thick gravy pooled and soaked the linen and dripped from the gilt edged plates piled in front of him. The napkin tucked under Hermius' smooth, flabby chins didn't do much to cover or protect the fine, brightly colored silken clothing that stretched over his ponderously bloated body. The emissary's small dark eyes glittered like little obsidian chips pushed into peach colored dough, as he anticipated tasting the sherry Irwin had just brought over.
The conversation over dinner had not been very helpful to Irwin and he tried to hide the frustration in his smooth, cultivated voice as he spoke to his guest.
"I can't help thinking that I could be of more use to you, if you would just tell me what it is that has been stolen from the palace, and precisely why you need Krista eliminated. She's a simple soul who has been a good soldier. I find it hard to understand how she could pose a threat to the crown."
Looking up, Hermius' eyed the sherry Irwin carried greedily as pudgy fingers impatiently pushed his empty glass slightly forward. The light from the candelabra on the table was caught on his large, gold seal ring that glittered brightly. The ring was intentionally created to be ostentatious in order to clearly identify him to others as a royal emissary. When Hermius Cantor spoke – it was to be treated literally as the word of the king himself.
Hermius quickly pulled from the seat of the chair next him, a sheaf of official looking papers and consulted them as if they held the answer to Irwin's question. They did not and only served as a prop for him to hide behind. They did serve an unintended function, which was to remove and absorb some of the grease from his fat, pink hands.
Hermius had very exacting instructions that had been given to him. Instructions he had to parrot back precisely with no deviation from the plan. He was not an imaginative man, and this work suited him very well. He cleared his throat as Iriwn poured the sherry. Pausing for dramatic effect, with a flourish, Hermius swept up the glass and took a huge sip. He drained it in one massive gulp, then immediately shoved it forward for more, as he authoritatively recited the official information he had memorized.
"I am afraid that what you ask is impossible. Suffice to say that there are things you simply cannot know. What I am here to discuss is your failure to remove Krista as we instructed you to. We even provided you with assistance and still you could not -"
"Forgive the interruption, but the people you selected to stage her murder were not very professional and bungled it badly. They should simply have killed her quickly in the alley. Staging an elaborate rape and murder at the inn was ill advised and if I may – in poor taste. If you would allow me to make my own arrangem–"
With a flat slap that rattled the dishes on the table Hermius stopped Irwin in mid speech. His face flushed red as he shouted thickly through shiny, grease coated lips, a fine mist of sherry sprayed out across the white table cloth.
"You DARE to interrupt the words of your king? AND question our PLAN?!"
For a micro-second, a look of real danger flashed across Irwin's face as he considered smashing Hermius' skull to pieces with the heavy crystal decanter, then instantly, it was gone as he calmly began to fill his glass.
"My – sincere apologies. What does the crown require me to do?"
Totally unaware of his brush with death, Hermius reached out and took a large gulp of sherry, then pushed back from the table to give his huge belly room to breathe. Then wiping his large, wet lips on the back of his red velvet sleeve, he answered.
"Hrrrumph! That's better!"
The emissary settled back contentedly as he smirked at Irwin. He drained his glass and with a truly magnificent belch, he reached with surprising speed for the decanter and snatched it up. Irwin's eyes widened slightly as he watched the intricate lace of Hermius' cuff trail through the gravy.
"BlaaarrrppphhHhhooorrrpp! Ahem – You nearly forgot your lowly station Irwin… The only reason that brilliant plan failed was because that filthy savage Levi got involved! YOU will need to get your little, pet ragamuffin on a shorter leash! Now, regarding Krista – please do your best to pay attention – I shall try to speak slowly for you – here is what we want you to do…"