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The doorway seethed with people: the innkeeper and his wife, flanked by hovering serving maids and grooms. Excitedly
the keeper rushed to the baron's horse, bowing and scraping--I suppose he did not often have so important a guest.
The baron ignored him. He dismounted and strode into the inn, brushing past those in his way as if they did not
exist.
Not quite sure what to do, I waited outside the private room into which the baron had been shown, leaning against
the wall and dreading the interview before me. I waited as the innkeeper came back with a serving girl, carrying
a tray loaded with food, wine, and ale. When they came out again the innkeeper beckoned me and said, "My lord
wishes to see you now." I nodded, and waited till the man was out of sight before I nervously pushed open
the door and slipped inside. I dropped to my knees before the baron, bowing my head.
There was a silence. I could feel him looking at me in that measuring way he had.
"Get up, boy," he said at last. I got to my feet. The room was small, with half-shuttered windows and
a low ceiling. The baron sat in a high-backed chair, a table beside him on which the tray of food had been placed.
He had made a start on it already: in one hand was a tankard, in the other a leg of fowl. Chewing, he stared coldly
at me. The silence grew.
"Well, boy, how have you fared since we saw each other last?"
"Well, my lord."
"And how do you like Rhuddesmere? You are of discriminating taste, if I recall."
"I like it well enough, my lord."
The baron finished his chicken leg. He tossed it onto the tray and wiped his fingers on the hem of his robe. "I
am glad to hear it." He smiled without kindness. "And how do you occupy yourself at Rhuddesmere?"
"I do the same things I used to do at Wallestoke, my lord. I tend the horses and the falcons. I do whatever
I am told to do."
"And the lady. She is kind to you?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Have you spoken with her?"
"Y-yes, my lord."
"What about?"
I stared at him. Why on earth should he be interested? "Well, my lord, nothing really, just everyday affairs.
She asked me if I liked Rhuddesmere, and she talked a bit about her children and...and herself." I was remembering
the lady's revelation that the baron had been her suitor once, and prayed that he would not make me elaborate.
I did not want to hear him speak of her.
"How interesting." He turned and tore another piece of meat off the fowl. "What do you think of
her?"
"M-my lord?"
"The lady, you idiot, the lady. What do you think of her?"
"I-I think she is very beautiful, and very kind. She has been very kind to me."
"Ah, yes. She is indeed kind. But beware, boy." His voice was full of surprising emotion. Anger? Hatred?
I could not identify it. "She is not all she seems. Under all that beauty, that sweet softness, is cold stone.
She loves her own way as dearly as she loves herself--and she loves herself very dearly indeed."
"I don't believe it!" I burst out before I could stop myself, and waited for the anger that would follow
this unfortunate exclamation. But there was only silence. I glanced up cautiously. The baron was not even looking
at me.
"No one would believe it," he said, and his voice was quiet. "But you will learn if you are with
her long enough."
There was a pause. Then, shaking himself a little as if shaking away memories, he reached for the food again, tearing
a large hunk of bread off a loaf.
"And what brings you into Walleston this day, boy?"
"I've come on business for the lady, my lord."
"What sort of business?"
I felt the bundles the Jew had given me, hard against my chest under my cloak. What should I say? Should I lie?
But I was never able to lie to the baron. I turned red and stuttered, and he saw through me as if I were a window.
"I came to purchase some...some unguents and other things, my lord."
"Unguents? For the lady?"
"Yes, my lord."
"And where did you get these unguents?"
"At the Jew's, sir."
"At the Jew's." He was staring at me in a way that made me feel he could see right through my head. "Surely
you know that the Jew is not just an apothecary. Surely you know that he is a sorcerer?"
"I don't know anything, my lord. The lady sent me with a list of things to get and I got them, and that's
all I know." It came out in a rush: I was not accustomed to defiance.
The baron smiled. "Be that as it may. But have you thought about what a lady might want with things Jew could
give her, a man who is an unholy heathen blasphemer? Jews are not even members of the human race, you know. What
if the things that sorcerer put into the package you are trying to hide there under your cloak are not unguents?
What then?"
I stared at him. "Why, my lord, what else would they be?"
He raised his eyebrows. "I am asking you. Did you not see what went into the package?"
"No, my lord. He didn't let me see."
"Indeed." The baron took a thoughtful swig of ale. "Well, I shall see for myself. Give it here,
boy."
Instinctively I clutched the bundles to my chest. "But my lord, I have orders. The lady said not to let anyone
open it."
His eyes narrowed. "Do her orders take precedence over mine? Your natural father?"
I was silent. God, I thought, give me strength to resist him.
"Do not defy me, boy." His tone was dangerously quiet. "Remember this: you are at Rhuddesmere only
by my sufferance. You are mine still, and you will do as I tell you."
"Please, my lord, don't make me break my trust--"
"Ha! What does a creature like you know about trust? Now"--he had risen to his feet and was towering
over me, for all he was not tall--"give me the package, boy. I am asking in a pleasant, civilized manner,
but I can easily have one of my men-at-arms beat it out of you."
I hated myself for the fear I felt. It seemed suddenly as if I had spent my whole life in fear of him, from which
my months at Rhuddesmere had been only a brief respite. There was no way out. But suddenly it occurred to me that
there were not one but two bundles, and that he did not know this. Perhaps if I could give him Anfelise's
package, I could slip the lady's behind my back where he would not see it...I tried to remember which bundle was
the lady's, and by touch decided it was the one on the right. I slipped my left hand out of the cloak and was maneuvering
with my right to get it behind my back when I realized, to my horror, that the bundle I was holding out to the
baron was the lady's after all. I froze.
"No, boy," he said, again in that soft voice, "I want the other one. The one you are trying to hide
behind your back."
A moment of incomprehension, then a rush of relief that made me dizzy. I pulled Anfelise's bundle out and handed
it to him. He set it on the table and untied it. Inside were several bottles, tightly corked, and a filigreed silver
pomander. The baron sniffed, then uncorked the bottles and raised them one by one to his nose.
"A pomander!" He sounded disgusted. "Scented ointments! Only unguents after all."
He recorked the bottles and tied the bundle up, meticulously, exactly as it had been. He gave it back to me. For
a moment I feared he would open the other package, but he seemed to have lost interest. He reached over to the
food tray and took a meat pastry, which he popped whole into his mouth.
"Well, boy," he said, chewing, "I must say that this interview has told me very little. But I don't
believe you have much to tell me. I don't believe you are keeping anything from me--it would show in your face
if you were. But we shall see. In a few month's time, who knows? Who knows?" He sounded reflective.
There was a silence. The baron finished his flagon of ale and brushed crumbs off his chest. He regarded me then,
without hostility, in a familiar way--I suppose the nearest I can come to describing it is to say that it was similar
to the way one might look at a curious insect.
"You may go now, boy. But remember what I said to you the last time. Keep your eyes open and your wits about
you. We shall speak again."
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