The Bastard, page 16
So I kept going back, and kept getting stronger with the blade. Because she worked me hard with the sword before taking me to the bedroom, and every morning was taken up with her activities.
But in the afternoons and evenings, I gathered information.
At first, revenge in the way I had planned seemed an impossible outcome. But the longer I thought about it, the more information gained from my network of tavern girls, street urchins, and random people, the more I began to think it might be possible.
Rolf’s day-to-day activities varied at least as much as Durstan’s or Bryce’s. Yet there was one thing about his routines that remained wholly consistent.
At his core, Rolf was a complete bastard.
He enjoyed running his scams. Reveled in causing pain for the sake of a few coins. He was as mercenary as they came, and would have gladly extorted the last copper from his own mother if he thought he could.
And when it came down to it, when all lies were swept away, it became abundantly clear, not just from the information I gathered but from my own experience, that Rolf was out for himself above all others.
Including the King.
I’d accepted as fact that many of Rolf’s schemes were completed under the King’s orders. But I knew with absolute certainty that not all of them were.
The kidnapping of Anwen was the key example. The King had marked her as his next companion and wouldn’t have done anything to put her at risk.
And if Rolf was prepared to do that once, then I would have bet huge piles of coin he was willing to do it again.
I just needed to figure out how I could turn this one simple truth to my advantage.
In the end, Ember provided the key.
She was one of my favorites, and I spent a surprising amount of time at the Goose and Quill, and not just because of her hot cocoa drink.
Ember was a calm, gentle presence in a dangerous world. A moment of peace in a city of loudness and chaos. And while she wasn’t quite as adventurous in the bedroom as Rosylin and her friends, sometimes her genuine affection was just what I needed.
We were enjoying each other’s company in her soft, oversized bed. Both naked, with her willowy body pressed against mine, we talked about random things, and she told me how popular the hot cocoa had become.
“You have seen how busy it is here,” she said, tracing a pattern on my chest with her finger. “It’s all on account of the cocoa drink. It has become the talk of the entire town, and last time we sold out, there were nearly riots because of it.”
Ember smiled, her pride evident in her eyes. “Even the King is said to enjoy a cup of it before bed, and another when he wakes the next morning. As a result, it has become an expensive product, with more than one tavern owner seeking the source.”
As I listened, the germ of an idea began to form. “Where does it come from?” I asked as I played with a length of her hair.
She grinned at me. “You wouldn’t be wanting to get into the business, would you?”
I laughed. While it was true I was looking for other sources of income, setting up a tavern didn’t seem to be quite the right thing.
“There is a merchant whose ships travel farther than most,” she said. “He is wary about the specifics, but he hinted that the world extends much further to the west than originally thought. This is just one of many exotic products he imports, but to me, it is one of the best.”
I nodded. “Is it just the one merchant?”
“It was to begin with. Now there are others. Even the King is said to want in on the game. He has his own, private supply.”
Very interesting.
“And I know something else,” Ember said. She beamed as if she’d been waiting all day to tell me.
I looked at her closely. “Yes?
“The next shipment is special, Mordie. It’s not just any shipment of cocoa.”
I grinned. “Please continue.”
I pumped Ember for as much information as I could get, and by the end of the evening, I thought I had found the knife with which to slit Rolf’s gloating throat.
38
Over the next few days, I refined my plans until they were ready to put into place.
I’d always known that Rolf was a Blackcoat of significant power and influence. He had his fingers in just about every conceivable pie within the inner walls of the city, and more than a few beyond those walls as well. It was a big operation, and more than a hundred men wearing black answered directly to him, acting as his own private army. Of these, a select few were given rank and privilege, either on a one-off basis or more regularly.
For much of the work Rolf did, that was all he needed. But when he chose to work a scheme for his own benefit, he wouldn’t hesitate to look outside of his men and use whoever he could.
That’s what had happened on those occasions where he’d sought out my help. Durstan and Bryce had been his trusted men, but neither of them had the skills I possessed.
Nor was I the only one Rolf would bring in at need. There were locksmiths, arsonists, thieves, and more, specialists in different areas whom Rolf could call upon at need.
And that was just the functional part of his operation. There was also the other side of it. The information-gathering side.
Rolf had his own network of informants spread throughout the city. I wasn’t exactly surprised. He had to learn about the opportunities he exploited from somewhere, and the Blackcoats themselves were just a small part of the answer.
Rolf employed a spymaster who did what I did but with more deliberate intent. Where I took my time to get to know people, to chat with the serving girls, the tavern keepers, the street urchins, and anyone I happened to meet, this spymaster was more direct.
He recruited people with overt intent, greasing their palms with one hand and offering threats with the other. And his methods were obviously effective.
Rolf didn’t know everything of importance that happened within the city walls, not by a long way, or he might have already decided to track me down and finish what he started.
But with his spymaster’s informants tucked away in strategic locations, he knew more than enough to get by.
And I knew enough to make use of the spymaster’s network.
The first part of my plan was easy, but I needed Samuel the street urchin.
“You’ve got a job for me?” he asked as he stood under the eaves of a building near the market, hiding from the rain.
“I might. Depending on if you can do it or not.”
The boy grinned, showing surprisingly clean, even teeth. “I can do it,” he said confidently. “You just see if I can’t.”
I gave him an approving nod. “I believe you.”
“Well? What is it?”
“I want you to spread a rumor,” I said. “There is a shipment of cocoa coming in. You know what that is?”
Samuel bobbed his head. “It’s that new drink some of the taverns are selling.”
“That’s right.”
“That’s it? That’s the rumor?”
“No. The rumor I want you to start is that the merchant is nervous. The demand for his product has risen substantially, and it’s the last shipment expected for months. Which means it’s even more valuable than before. So much so that the merchant has hired double the normal number of Graycoats to protect it, and he’s keeping his route secret.”
Samuel stared at me with wide eyes. “And how much of that is true?” he asked.
I chuckled. “All of it,” I said.
Samuel thought it over. Then nodded. “I can do it,” he said, and held out his hand.
“Name your price,” I said.
Samuel gave me a crafty look. “Something like this, you’re planning something big. What’s it worth to you?”
He truly was a cunning lad, and I had to give him credit for it. “It isn’t worth much to me in financial terms. For me, it’s more about revenge.”
It didn’t faze him. “In that case, if this is personal, then it’s worth at least a silver or two.”
I dug in my coin pouch and came up with one, which I placed in his hand.
“You get two more when I hear the rumor repeated back to me.”
Samuel looked like he wanted to object, so I raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you don’t think you can do it?” I challenged.
It was Samuel’s turn to grin. He nodded and made the silver piece vanish. “You got yourself a deal,” he said.
As he disappeared into the market, I nodded to myself. The bait was set. But that was just the first step. I needed to make sure Rolf took it, and then I needed to make sure it went the way I wanted.
Samuel did his job well, and it wasn’t long before I heard my own rumor repeated back to me from more than one source.
Rosylin from the Twin Barrels alehouse was the first. She told me all about the cocoa shipment, gushing about the value of it and the lengths the merchant was taking to conceal it.
I smiled, nodded, and made a mental note to give Samuel the coin he was owed.
Then it was time for phase two.
I had started keeping a room in the Goose and Quill, and not just because that was where Ember worked and I enjoyed her company perhaps a little more than most of the others.
It wasn’t much, no more than four walls and a bed, but it had one additional benefit—a small looking glass hanging on the wall.
I had done all my preparation work. I knew where Rolf liked to hang out in the evening, after he had completed whatever work he got up to during the day. He and some of his Blackcoat companions typically enjoyed an ale or two at the Rusty Dagger, a surprisingly upmarket inn quite close to the King’s castle.
Rolf would drink the evening away, sometimes becoming rowdy and picking fights with other customers. Sometimes his men would hold him back, but other times they would join in.
I knew I could simply head to the inn and wait for an opportunity to catch Rolf by himself. But he didn’t seem to want to take that sort of risk, and anyway, that wasn’t my plan. Not for Rolf.
So I looked at myself in the looking glass and took the stopper from the vial Meghan had given me. At once, the pungent odor of concentrated citrus hit my senses. It was strong enough to make my eyes water, and I hesitated.
But not for long. This needed to be done. So I put the open end of the vial to my lips, tilted back and took a single small swallow.
The liquid burned down my throat like acid. I coughed, grimaced against the sharp, almost acrid taste, and swallowed it down.
Then I replaced the stopper and waited.
The taste faded swiftly, and for a moment, I wondered if Meghan’s enchantment had failed. Then I felt decidedly odd.
My heart started beating too fast, and sweat formed on my brow. I felt nauseous, too. Seasick, perhaps, or maybe a little tipsy, like the room was spinning. And when I turned my head, my perceptions were slow to catch up.
I felt a bubble of gas form in my stomach and knew if I let it come up, it wouldn’t do so alone.
So I clenched my jaw and held onto the bed in an effort to steady myself, and closed my eyes against the swirling of the walls.
The peculiar sensations didn’t last very long. The bubble of gas in my stomach seemed to dissipate, and everything went back to normal.
I took a deep breath, reassured myself that I was okay, and listened to the sound of my own heart as the beats settled down to normal.
Then I opened my eyes and peered at myself in the looking glass.
Someone else entirely was looking back at me. Older, darker, and with a different shade of hair. And there were fine lines on my forehead and around my eyes. My features were largely as they had been before, but slightly altered. My nose, jaw, and eyebrows were thicker and more substantial than usual, almost as if my own features had been combined with Durstan’s.
It was the face of a stranger, and I was convinced there was no way anyone who knew me would recognize Mordie the Bastard with no last name.
I broke into a grin, and even that was a harder, less open expression than before.
I was ready. The transformation would only last a few hours. So it was time to get moving.
39
I staggered into the Rusty Dagger as if I was already drunk, finding a seat near the end of the bar where I could keep half an eye on the entire place. Then I ordered an ale with a surly, slurred tone, and hunched deep into my coat (a normal one, not the black one I’d taken from Durstan’s companion) like a man keen on escaping the world for a time.
I sat muttering to myself, grumbling under my breath about life while looking at no one. Every so often, my mutters grew louder and more specific.
“Curse the gods and merchants alike for their fickleness!” I would say.
“Kick me off the caravan, will he?”
“God rot the pack of them.”
“Would serve him right if he does get robbed.”
And the key part of my message that went out to anyone who cared to listen.
“I hope his god-rotting cocoa beans spoil before they arrive!”
To all the people in the tavern, I was just a drunk, spouting my vitriol to anyone and everyone who cared to listen. Not that anyone did. I kept my eyes mostly fixed on a point behind the bar and sloshed my flagon of ale about as if in punctuation, for all appearances just another mad drunk deep in his cups.
I kept my routine going for most of the evening, ordering more ale when I was done, and in truth, it became easier to keep the slur in my words. The tavern was crowded and noisy, but sometimes I still heard the cries of the beast that lived beneath the castle. It was a common noise in Camelot, but the proximity of this tavern to the King’s castle meant it was more noticeable.
For a few moments, I wondered if I had come too early and would need more potion. I had only enough of Meghan’s potion for two more small sips, and if I couldn’t hook the fish I was after before they were gone, I would have to come up with a new plan.
Despite my witless, drunken appearance, I was very aware of when Rolf entered the inn with several Blackcoat lackeys at his side. I almost flinched when I saw him and did my best to hide the reaction with another random mutter and wave of my hands. I kept my head down and turned partially away, but could do nothing to calm the pounding of my heart or the way the blood gathered in my head.
I felt wired, ready for action, and every fiber in my body tensed as if I was about to go on attack. This was the man who had sneered at me as he left me to my fate. This was the man who had gleefully informed me I was to be hanged.
This was the man who had shown me the error of how I’d lived my life before, and who had betrayed me like no one else.
I would happily peel the skin from his flesh and bathe him in acid. I would have fed him feet first into a meat-grinder and forced him to do the grinding for as long as he could. I would have cut pieces off him, cooked them up, and made him eat them.
And I would have enjoyed it.
Perhaps I should have done something like that, or just slit his throat and let him bleed out on the floor. But my sense of justice demanded to see him swinging at the end of the rope. It consumed me, and nothing else would be quite good enough.
As the treacherous bastard and his crew settled in around the tables at the other side of the bar, and I willed myself to calm down, took a steadying swallow of my ale and continued with my performance.
It was a busy night for the innkeeper. By the time Rolf and his crew entered, there were few places to sit, and the seat next to me at the bar was taken up by a large man who glared at me once when I shouted to the world in general that all merchants should be strung up by the balls, then proceeded to ignore me entirely as he sank into his own drink.
We continued through the evening as companionable strangers, each ignoring the other, until a man in a black coat approached him from behind.
“I’ll be needing that seat, if you don’t mind,” Rolf sneered at the big man.
While not as drunk as I pretended to be, my companion was a long way from sober. He didn’t even glance up.
“This one is taken,” he slurred. “Get another.”
“But I want this one,” Rolf replied, and I could hear the sneer in his voice even as my skin crawled at the sound of it. I found myself thinking violent thoughts once again and covered them with another swallow.
“Don’t care what you want. Fuck off,” said my companion.
It was the wrong thing to say. Rolf wasn’t the biggest man in the world, but he was powerful. He gripped the stranger by the back of his coat, and with no hesitation, dragged him off his seat and onto the floor. The man hit with a thud and started to curse as he reached for his weapon of choice, most likely a dagger at his waist.
But Rolf was quicker. He stepped on the man’s neck and ground it into floor. The move was quick and vicious, and sudden enough that the random murmurs and talk died down so the other customers could watch.
Rolf hadn’t even drawn his sword. He just kept his weight on my companion’s neck and snarled at him.
“I said I want that seat,” he said. “To which the answer is that I’m welcome to it.”
The man on the ground got the message. He thrashed about under Rolf’s weight, gurgling as his fingers sought purchase on Rolf’s leg.
“What was that?” Rolf asked. At the same time, he took some of the weight from the man’s neck.
“You’d be welcome to it,” the man on the ground muttered, his voice choked and ragged from Rolf’s mistreatment.
The Blackcoat beamed as if that was all he desired and offered the man on the floor his thanks.
“That’s better,” he said, taking the man’s seat. “Now get out of here, before I change my mind about being so gentle.”
The stranger scrambled to his feet. Rolf ignored him, instead picking up the man’s half-finished ale and taking a deep swallow.
I was doing my best to appear to be minding my own business while also taking in every last detail. The stranger looked to be on the verge of arguing further, but some of Rolf’s men had gathered. And the stranger wasn’t so drunk that he couldn’t see the danger.
