Battenberg

What was she doing there?

Battenberg 

"Alright, that's taken care of. Master thanks you for your assistance in this matter, Mr Smith."

"Oh, pleasure's all mine."

"So, payment in cash as requested...10,20,30,40..." Arthur counted a multitude of ten pound notes straight into Mr Smiths' greedy hands. The storm had just subsided, ceasing its competition with a fearsome roaring behind the formidable steel gate, far off into obscured darkness, only the briefest of periodic illuminations.

 

Focused himself only on the counting of money, Mr Smith allowed the jewels of rain to gently fall from the leafy rooftops of the surrounding forests on to his worn jacket, the odd disturbed little bird to swoop past him in a tweet of undefined panic.

 

"...360,380,400."

"Hm, yes, thank you. I'm surprised you keep that...thing under such feeble constraint. Once could hardly keep a hound under those shackles for long."

"They are not often used, I'm afraid we've simply had to do our best. It's typically sufficient to entice her to a calm state whilst Sir Montgomery himself administers the tincture. He calms her down wonderfully."

"I respectfully disagree. It's hard to believe the creature could ever be a beautiful woman..." Mr Smith trailed off, momentarily. "I'll be expecting more next time, I'm afraid. I consider myself somewhat misled."

Arthur didn't respond, he was listening carefully to any further sounds from the dungeon, any indications. Sir Montgomery's soothing tone. A distant growling, sloshing, gulping...humming and a distant glow of green. He had begun his work.

 

"At any rate, I must take my leave. I've arranged a ride for myself by the castle grounds...you know how to reach me for next time..." Mr Smith stared at Arthur, made eye contact, catching his attention. "...and there will be a next time. Whatever the 'tincture' is, that creature was on the war-path for a reason."

 

As Mr Smith walked wordlessly between the trees, Arthur nodded acknowledgement of his warning. The next instant, he’d heard the end of the distant glow and hum, and gingerly unlocked the dungeon gate. Withdrawing a feeble lantern, he began the slow sloping descent into darkness.

 

 

The dungeon itself, at its lowermost depths, was well lit and spacious. A few stray items, rocks at a glance, perhaps bones on closer inspection, littered the room as if only partially broken or cleared away. The walls bumpy, cobbled, slick with an unknown moisture. The scents of iron, damp and stagnation wrought the air.

 

“Arthur!” Sir Montgomery cried, remaining crouched over the prostrate body of a beautiful young woman. Her fair, dark flowing hair and pale complexion left her unsuitably peaceful in such an unpleasant place. She was still shackled in place by many powerful lengths of chain, secured to the far wall.

“Please help me unchain her so we can get her out of here. Last time she woke up here she had a bloody freak-out.”
“Of course, sir.”

“You can’t blame her, obviously. I’d rather have her waking up in bed, it makes the...”

“...yes the morning conversation easier. I know sir, no worries. We still have some of the Battenberg cake she’s fond of. It’ll be fine, sir, as usual.”

“I know. Thank-you Arthur. Still...” Montgomery faltered, as he unlocked the first of her shackles. “Mr Smith told me something, just after we’d chained her up and calmed her down...”

“Sir?”

“He told me that...that word had spread through the area. She’d been gone long enough to build up a reputation. The deal was, she’d explore the area but would regularly return to one house, in one neighbourhood, to make a nuisance. I mean, usually we get her back quickly enough, but often she roams wild. To put it plainly, why? Why was she there?”

Arthur rubbed his chin, wrinkled his aged brow in contemplation: “Where exactly did he find her?”

“Not too far...some miles away in a simple neighbourhood. I have the address from Mr Smith.”

“Why don’t we give Maria time to rest, she can tell us what she’s thinking. It may not be best to go asking questions unless she has something to say first, sir.”

“Perhaps. Alright, I’ll get her to bed...” Montgomery sighed, clacking open the final shackle, picking her delicate frame like a child over his shoulder. “I am very tired, indeed, aren’t we all? I’m fine carrying her, please make the bed and prepare some Battenberg.”

 

 

Reviews

[Vasilees Sybissyl]

I love this! It seems like you have changed your writing style quite a bit for this story, and that's very cool. I love seeing different sides of writers through their work. And the story. It's a wonderful story. You had me bound from the first paragraph. I mean, that set of dialogues. Do you plan on writing more stories connected to this? If so, then I'd love to read it! Keep doing what you're doing, bud.

Love,
Vasilees.

[Alex Ware]

Thank you, I've been trying to make more of a conscious effort with my writing lately :)