Part 35 of Rob Donovan’s free serialised story set in the same world of Frindoth as his newly released book “Ritual of the Stones”. In this story we follow the journey of Pewtory the Lesser bard as he travels to Lilyon to witness the Ritual.
Pewtory the Lesser Bard part 35 – Masker’s Ball
Pewtory scoured the crowd for any sign of the Elsie or Arthur. The guests arrived like some unstoppable tide pouring through the double doors and seeking out the best vantage point within the Palace. They were handed crystal champagne flutes by servants as their coats were taken and Baron Decker greeted them all one by one.
He looked resplendent in his maroon velvet gown, trimmed with gold lining that matched the stud in his ear. The gown had been brushed evenly, so that it appeared to be striped. He wore the same shirt and trousers as earlier, but now had on brown leather shoes that were polished so bright that they reflected the ceiling.
The Baron greeted each guest with a warmth and enthusiasm that left smiles on every face. Not once did he tire from the endless charade and the guests adored him for it. He placed the lilac coloured mask to his face as each stranger approached and lowered it as they addressed him. Every man and woman were made to feel special as if the ball was for their benefit alone.
Pewtory had never seen such fine clothing. The women wore dresses that swished and swirled as they sauntered elegantly. The finest miasma of splendid colours and textures that he had never seen: Orange flax, cyan wool, rouge hemp and emerald silks that dazzled, glittered and shimmered. The men wore sharp, immaculately tunics or robes or equally garish colours. It was a transcendence of riches and the Bard loved every minute of it.
He spotted them finally, recognising Elsie’s mask first. She was dressed in a plain blue dress that was elegant rather than bold. She looked fantastic though and despite hardly knowing anything about the woman, Pewtory felt an element of pride. She showed no sign of the horror she was about to face in a few days and Pewtory imagined she did not care. Tonight was all about fulfilling a life-long dream and nothing was going to spoil it.
Arthur entered by her side of course. He lowered his mask and inevitably scowled round the room. Even he could not resist the Baron however and walked away from the encounter with a smile.
Pewtory approached them immediately. He had not bothered with a mask, bard Kallum said it was not expected of them which seemed ironic considering they were the performers.
Elsie spotted him and beamed.
“Pewtory,” she said and held her arm out towards him. He took it and kissed the back of her hand, bowing as he did so. A few guests turned at the exchange and then returned to their refined conversations. Arthur offered a very firm hand shake which bruised Pewtory’s fingers.
“I’m so pleased to see you both,” Pewtory said.
“Since you abandoned us you mean?”
“Arthur!” Elsie rebuked her husband but Pewtory could see in the man’s face that he was being playful.
“My apologies my friend. But I had to get to the Palace and deliver the equipment needed for the finale to Bard Kallum,” Pewtory said.
“I thought you said he was ill,” Arthur said the familiar frown returning to his eyes.
“He got better,” Pewtory said. He had forgotten how canny the old man was. The truth was that Pewtory had told so many lies, he had begun to forget who he had told what. There was no time to fret about such thing now. His focus was on the performance and the performance alone. “Come, both of you. I have a surprise for you.”
He led them into the main hall where all of the chairs had not been set up. A guard at the door permitted them access, nodding to Pewtory and smiling as he passed. The guard had been on the door all day and had witnessed the Bards rehearsing. It seemed he had been impressed as he had commented on how lucky the guests were tonight to witness such a show.
Pewtory heard Elsie gasp as she entered the room. She stopped mid stride as she absorbed her surroundings. The lilac trees now held tiny candles in their branches and provided a magical feel to the room. The servants had also hung garlands with yellow flowers across the ceiling whilst ribbons of blue and yellow were wrapped around the pillars.
“It is just like I had always imagined,” Elsie said her voice a whisper. She squeezed her husband’s hand and Pewtory saw tears form in Arthur’s eyes. How could you destroy her? The voice crept into Pewtory’s mind but he pushed it away, forcing it into the deepest corner of his brain.
He led the couple to the past row after row of chairs. As they neared the first five rows, the chairs were no longer just wooden. Instead they had plush blue and yellow cushions on them and strapped to the back for comfort. A small black block occupied the chairs. Inscribed on the wooden boxes in white fancy writing were initials and emblems of the noble houses. These were the priority seats, the ones reserved for royalty.
Pewtory walked past them all to the very front row. He almost skipped with excitement as he sensed the confusion and awe from the couple that followed behind. Finally he stopped at the very centre of the front row.
He looked down at the two middle seats and then up at Elsie and Arthur. For a moment the couple just looked back at him in confusion, Elsie through her beautiful mask and Arthur with his stern eyes. Slowly realisation dawned on them though as they looked at the chair. Elsie lowered her mask and a hand flew to her open mouth whilst Arthur placed his once strong arms around his wife’s slight frame and squeezed. Upon the seats were two boxes with the initial “EB” and “AB” inscribed on them.
“Arthur I’m dreaming,” Elsie said shaking her head from side to side. “I must be dreaming.”
“I don’t think so my love,” Arthur’s voice was weak with emotion.
“I believe these seats are for you two,” Pewtory said.
“How is this possible? These seats are for the nobility only. To sit in the 5th row is a privilege but to sit at the front. Not only the front but in the centre?” Arthur looked at Pewtory as if he expected the Bard to deliver the punch line to a very cruel joke. When no such jape came, he picked up the box on the chair with his initials on it and turned it over and over. “How…I mean…how? I…I need to sit down.”
Pewtory laughed. “Well sit down then. You have your seat right there in front of you.”
Arthur collapsed into the chair. As he landed, it seemed as if all the air left his lungs as if he could not hold on to the tension anymore. He bobbed up and down on the pillow trying it out and then looked over his shoulder no doubt expecting guards to seize him at any moment.
“It feels harder than I expected,” he said and then barked a loud laugh before pulling Elsie down beside him.
For a moment Pewtory gazed down at the couple as they laughed and hugged at their good fortune. As much as he enjoyed the scene he felt like an intruder and began to move away.
Arthur was on his feet in seconds. He rushed after the Bard, swung him round and hugged him before pumping his hand furiously.
“Thank you Pewtory. You have no idea how much joy you have brought us. Given all that is about to happen, I could not have asked for a better gift. You have made Elsie the happiest women in Frindoth.”
Pewtory could only smile and nod.
How could you? The voice reared up inside him again.
