Roman a Clef
Part Four: The Black Dog Arrives
By Anne B. Walsh
The Black Dog and the Grey Wolf
Or, The Further Adventures of Samuel and Alison
By Valentina Jett
x X x X x
Part Four: The Black Dog Arrives
Sir John was as good as his word, returning only a moment later. "The ladies are eager to see you, milord, and to meet you, Lady Margaret. Will you accompany me?" He offered Margaret his arm graciously, and she accepted.
The building seemed to be all one large room, until Margaret noticed the doorway in the back. "This is our eating and gathering hall," Sir John said, "and the kitchens are through there." He waved toward the doorway. "The ladies will be out in a moment—"
"Sir!" One of the red-haired young men, the one with glasses, burst through the door they had entered by. "Sir, there’s something amiss — I think you should see it."
"Now?" Sir John asked with a sigh.
"Yes, sir. Now."
"Very well. My apologies, milord, my lady. Lord Albert, can I throw the burden of introducing Lady Margaret around onto you?"
"Certainly, John."
"Then, I take my leave." Sir John followed the young man, whom Margaret now remembered as Lance, out the door. The boy seemed to serve the function of a steward, she thought, a sort of second in command.
"Your lordship," said a quiet voice from the corner, making her start.
A girl of about twelve stepped forward into the light and curtsied. She was pretty in a dreamy sort of way, with long hair an indeterminate color between blond and brown and large eyes which would have been lovely had they not been very slightly protuberant.
"Lady Selene," Lord Albert replied, bowing slightly. "Margaret, may I present Lady Selene Cuorben. Lady Selene, Lady Margaret Mellis, my niece."
"Your ladyship." Selene curtsied to Margaret, who returned the gesture.
"I would have thought you’d be in the kitchen with everyone else, Selene," Lord Albert said.
"I broke a dish," Selene said. "So they sent me out here to do my music practice. I can’t break anything when I do that."
"Quite true."
Selene curtsied again, then returned to her corner. The sounds of a lute drifted out from the darkness. Apparently, she was practicing an old song for which she did not need written music.
"Uncle, is she... simple?" Margaret asked in a whisper as they crossed the hall, which was filled with trestle tables and benches.
"No, merely a bit different. She has all her wits intact, but she speaks what is on her mind forthrightly, without worrying what people will think. I find her straightforwardness refreshing in many ways."
They had arrived at the doorway to the kitchen. Everything was heat, noise, and bustle within.
"Gwen, make sure the water’s hot, someone’s bound to want tea—"
"Mary, the stew’s done, you need to adjust the hob, it never works right when I do it—"
"Morta, here’s the mint you wanted—"
"Oh, thank you, Pearl, sweetheart — Lia, check on the bread, it should be done by now—"
"Forgive me for intruding, ladies," Lord Albert called, "but could you spare a moment to greet a weary traveler?"
"Lord Albert!" a child’s voice cried, and a dark-skinned girl came hurtling out of the steam to embrace Margaret’s uncle. "Lord Albert, you came!"
"Yes, I came, and I brought someone with me. I make known to you the Lady Margaret Mellis. Margaret, I would like you to meet Lady Pearl Niger."
The girl, who looked to be about ten years old, curtsied. "Pleased to meet you, Lady Margaret."
"And you," Margaret said, staring at the girl, whose face reminded her tremendously of someone. "Uncle, whose—"
"Is she?" her uncle finished. "Pearl, who are your parents?"
"The Black Dog and the Lady Drazah," the girl said with a wicked grin.
"Their real names, saucy child."
"Viscount Samuel Niger and his Viscountess Alison," the girl recited in a bored tone.
Margaret leaned against the doorframe. Alison. Of course. She did not die any more than John did. She merely... became a pirate. And married her love. And bore him a child.
Of course.
"But I like being a pirate’s daughter better than being a Viscount’s," Pearl finished.
"Do not be so sure until you’ve tried them both, little minx," Lord Albert admonished, tapping the girl’s cheek lightly. "A life of wealth and privilege can be very enjoyable."
"A life of wealth and privilege can be very boring," said a woman’s voice from behind the girl. "Lord Albert, how are you?"
"Quite well, Dame Mary, and yourself?"
"Oh, as well as can be expected with half my family away on a pirate ship and the other half here making mischief all the day long."
Margaret was duly introduced to Dame Mary Mustela and her daughter Guinevere, with twelve years to her credit, both of whom were as red-headed as the young men she’d seen in the yard. A question confirmed that yes, they were all Mary’s sons, and that she had two others, who, with their father, were both currently serving under the Black Dog on the Marauder.
"Though what my Richard can do on board ship, being only thirteen, is beyond me," she said. "But for all I know about ships, boys that size may be useful in some way — they certainly have enough of them on board, what with my Rich and Anne’s Dominic, and Daniel and Henry..."
Margaret gasped.
"Heavens, have I said something wrong?" Mary asked in concern.
"No, nothing at all," Lord Albert hastened to reassure her as Margaret sat down quickly on the nearest bench. "Margaret simply was not aware of those particular members of the Wolf’s Pack."
"Dear me, I am sorry, Lady Margaret. Let me get you some water." Mary vanished back into the kitchen.
"She does mean who I think she means, then," Margaret said weakly. All the shocks of the last two hours were beginning to tell on her. "By Henry."
"Henry Lutum? She does. Please forgive me, Margaret, I should have told you much earlier than this. Yes, Henry Lutum is alive and well, and nearly here by now, I daresay."
"And Daniel is Daniel Devovi."
"Yes, although he no longer uses that name. He has taken the name of Niger to honor his mother — she was born a Niger, as I daresay you knew."
"And Dominic would be Dominic Portop, then?"
"And I thought you had forgot about the Portops," Lord Albert said with real approval in his voice. "Yes, he and his grandmother have been part of the Pack for some time now."
"I wondered why Anne Portop never wrote to me any more," Margaret said, as a cup of water appeared in front of her. She took it and drank it quickly, then turned to thank Mary for bringing it.
Another girl of about twelve or thirteen stood before her. She had a truly astonishing amount of brown wavy hair and a very earnest face. "Lady Margaret," she said with a curtsy.
"Margaret, may I present Ophelia Amelar-Lobos," Lord Albert said. "Sir John’s wife’s sister and his adopted daughter."
The girl made a face. "Please, Lord Albert, not Ophelia. Lia. I hate Ophelia. I wouldn’t go mad and drown myself because some fool of a prince wanted revenge."
The comment surprised a laugh out of Margaret.
"And, last but surely not least, the lady of the Den herself," Lord Albert said, rising. "Lady Margaret Mellis — Lady Desdemona Amelar-Lobos, known to all as Lady Morta."
"Call me Desdemona again and I’ll throw you down the well," the lady said frankly to him before turning to Margaret. "I’m pleased to finally meet you, I hear so much about you."
"All good, I hope," Margaret said, knowing she sounded banal.
"Oh, yes. About what a wonderful chatelaine you are, and how much of the burden you take from him, and how he knows he never has to worry with you on hand. As I said, pleased to meet you."
Lady Morta resembled her sister closely, having the same earnest face — the look of a seeker after knowledge, Margaret thought — and the same hair that would probably refuse to be tamed, no matter what one did with it. "Likewise."
"Here they come!" a voice bellowed from outside.
"I’ll find Lady Anne!" cried Lia, running toward one of the doors.
"I’ll fetch Carl!" shouted Gwen, popping out of the kitchen and dashing toward another.
"And I’m to fetch you, my love," said Sir John, reentering the room in haste. "All of you, in fact — the caravan is indeed approaching, and it is traditional to greet our returned friends in the courtyard."
"He means, so we don’t knock the walls down in our eagerness to get at them," Lady Morta translated with a laugh, going swiftly to her husband. They embraced for a moment, then went out the door arm-in-arm. Mary followed them, with Pearl leaping around her — "My mother and my father are coming!" — and Selene rose from her corner and unhurriedly left the room for the courtyard.
"Will you honor me with your company to greet the returning travelers, niece?" Lord Albert asked, offering Margaret his arm.
She rose, slowly, and took it. "Uncle, this is all so sudden. People I haven’t seen in years, people I thought were dead—"
"You have done marvelously well so far, Margaret. If it seems to be getting too much for you, we can surely find you a quiet place to rest until you are ready to rejoin us."
"No, I will be all right now," Margaret said, willing the words to be true. "Let us go out and greet our friends."
And I can see if the son of Violet Thomas still has her eyes after all these years.
x X x X x
Henry’s green eyes sparkled in the moonlight.
There was nothing better than this, the last leg of the journey home. In only a few minutes, they would be back in the Den, and there would be the inevitable hugging and kissing and exclamations over them having grown, and then there would be supper and music and stories and laughter, and perhaps time for a bath before bed.
He glanced to one side — Rich grinned back at him. The other — Daniel waved nonchalantly, while Dominic gave him a tight little nod. Dominic didn’t mind the ship so much, but he wasn’t a good rider. Usually he rode in the wagon on the journey from the secret cove where the Marauder moored to the Wolf’s Den. But he couldn’t do that this time, because of the thing in the wagon.
Henry felt his face crinkle up in a smile. The thing in the wagon — which was a person, of course, but it was fun to think of him as a thing — was going to make his life so much better. Soon he would be able to walk in the sunlight without a disguise, say his name openly, and best of all, call the name of his godfather without fear.
Henry urged his horse up a little, cutting through the press of riders, and reached his godfather’s side — as captain of the Marauder, of course, Samuel Niger led the way on the road.
"May we sing once we get up the turn-off?" he asked.
"What song did you have in mind?" came the wary answer.
"The Crew of the Good Ship Marauder," Henry answered promptly.
The Captain sighed. "You shouldn’t even know that song."
"Drazah’s going to kill you," Henry finished before Samuel could. "Please, Captain?"
"Oh, very well. Just this once. I’ll start it once I’m up the turn-off — ah, and here we are now."
Henry moved his horse a little up the road and waited his turn. The moon was up, lighting everything a pale silver, so there was enough light to show him the other boys as they turned, and he pressed his knees into his horse’s side to get back into his place in line.
I love this song.
It was only a few moments before he heard the Captain begin to sing, in his lusty baritone.
We’re the crew of the good ship Marauder
A few voices joined him.
And we pillage and steal when we can
The whole crowd began to sing as they realized what the song was.
We’re the crew of the good ship Marauder,
And we’re loyal and true to a man...
The singers faltered. Many of them, after all, were not men.
Er... woman... er... person...
"Oh, never mind," somebody said in disgust. "Let’s just keep going."
The crew picked up the song at the next verse.
We’re the crew of the good ship Marauder,
And we’ll come at you out of the night.
We’ll steal all your sails and damage your rails
And leave your ship not watertight.
"What do rails have to do with anything?" Rich asked Henry.
"I don’t know, but it rhymes with sails."
We’re the crew of the good ship Marauder,
And we’re pirates — aye, that’s what we be!
We will drink and we’ll dance and we’ll take off your pants
And we’ll throw you right into the sea.
"Why are we taking their pants off?" Dominic wanted to know.
"Just keep singing," Daniel advised him.
The song wound into its final verse as they came into sight of the Wolf’s Den.
We’re the crew of the good ship Marauder,
And we always do just as we should,
We’re the crew of the good ship Marauder...
Everyone bellowed the last line at the top of their lungs.
And we solemnly swear that we’re up to no good!
"Who goes there?" shouted Lance Mustela from the palisade wall.
"Friends!" the Captain replied, riding up through the crowd. "Friends in abundance."
"Give the password."
The entire crew of the Marauder howled.
"Enter and be welcome!" Lance shouted over the din, and disappeared below the palisade, going down the ladder to be ready to welcome Helen, Henry would have bet money.
He looked around, watching all the familiar faces. Sera Jameson and Tricia Bush were murmuring together with their friend Bronwen Chimmering and Gideon and Fabian’s best friend Warren Fluvis, probably plotting something to find out if the twins had swapped places to greet them. Helen Claraqua sat her horse calmly, waiting for the gate to open. Rich was talking with his father and his oldest brother Alex, whose new lady friend, Lilie, had joined the crew at their watering spot in France. She would have to be introduced to everyone.
Sir Boris Cuorben, Selene’s father, was fidgeting slightly on the wagon seat, anxious to be reunited with his daughter. Captain Samuel, of course, was waiting right in front of the gate. And — Henry looked around — the woman who was the closest thing he had ever known to a mother (along with Morta, of course), the fearsome Lady Drazah, had maneuvered her horse in between those of Daniel and Dominic, and was telling them something that made them laugh.
The gate rumbled and began to open. The Captain whooped and rode forward. Alex Mustela looped his arm around Lilie’s waist and pulled her off her horse, depositing her face-down over his saddlebow, and followed his captain inside to the accompaniment of her indignant French curses and the rest of the crew’s laughter.
I love coming home.
Henry urged his horse forward through the gate. He and the other boys had so much to tell Lia and Pearl and Gwen and ‘Lene. Like the song they’d learned in a London pub about King Linus’ ugly mistress...