Ian had no trouble finding the place; he could hear the angry voices long before he reached the alley running alongside a row of taverns and shops. The crowd was gathered before the doorway to a small building flush against the rear wall of one of the establishments, and two harried members of the Watch were managing to keep the onlookers out by simply bracing themselves in the doorway. Fists were being shaken in the air and a rock flew at the guards.

"That will be the last of that!" Ian roared, starting to force his way through to the door. "There's nothing that can be done by starting a fight. Now get away from here and let us go about our business!" There were a few more shouts, but those quickly faded into muttering as Marcus and the others caught up to Ian. No orders were necessary; Timmons and Marcus simply pointed to a man, then to a spot around the building, and wordlessly a perimeter was created. Satisfied the situation was now under control, Ian went in to look at the body.

A greying man sat over in the corner of one room, silently rocking back and forth on a battered stool, thin hands tightly gripping a ragged cloak about himself. "His name's Nicholas, sir." one of the guards from the door murmured. "The dead man's his brother, Anthone. He's in the other room. It looks like someone did for him while he slept."

"Good work." Ian nodded to the man and made his way into the smaller room. The body, Anthone, lay curled up under a blanket, and the smell of blood grew stronger as Ian approached the bed. He drew back the blanket, then shook his head. Knowing what he'd most likely see didn't make it any easier to look at something like this. Something was clutched in the dead man's hand, and as Ian leaned over he swore loudly.

"What is it, sir?" Marcus had entered and raised a brow at the outburst.

Ian worked the object loose, then turned to show it to his aide. "Another block. This one with the letter A, A for Anthone, so I think we can now say the killer has left them. But why?" He looked back at the body. "Is it a message? Or is it just a macabre calling card?" He handed the block to Marcus. "Hold this, could you?" Then he took a closer look at the body.

"I hope for his sake he was sound asleep when it happened." He lifted the dead man's tunic. "Not just to the throat this time. No sign of a struggle though, and the throat looks to have been done with the same sharp sort of blade that was used on Fionn. Did you question his brother?"

Marcus nodded. "They had barely enough to survive on, so robbery is out as a motive. Anthone had gone out to sell a bunch of fancy buttons to get some coin, for pity's sake. There's no reason for this, m'lord, none at all!"

"Makes you angry, doesn't it? So am I." He covered the body up. "Start the men talking with that bunch out there; somebody has to have noticed a stranger if one were about. Tell Timmons to take a few men and visit the nearer taverns. I want to know what the gossip is about this. Have four men take our poor friend back for the healers to look over. And I'll take that block with me"

"Here it is, sir." Marcus paused. "Did you notice Tuckian out there, sir?"

Ian shook his head. "No. Was he one of the shouters?"

"No. Just watching."

"I'll talk to him later myself, then. I don't think any of the O'Donnells have even the faintest connection with all this, but maybe he saw something that will help."

He walked back out to the first room, and over to the brother. "Nicholas, isn't it? I'm sorry about your brother, Master Nicholas. Is there anyone at all you can think of that would have wanted to harm Anthone like this?"

The man shook his head, his voice on the point of a sob. "None. We were alone, and kept to ourselves. It was only the two of us, only the two, and now Anthone's gone. What will I do now?"

"I'm sorry. Perhaps you should come up to the Hall for a bit? We always need help, and there's a warm room, and good food in it for you. Alright? Tell the Chamberlain that I sent you."

Nicholas nodded, then reached out his hand and grabbed Ian's wrist, his grip surprisingly strong for so delicate a hand. "I need a promise."

"I will find the one who did this, Nicholas, I promise." Ian gently pulled his arm away.

"Not that. Not that!" He looked up at Ian. "Promise me he'll be buried proper, in the churchyard. No Pauper's Field for Anthone! We came from good family once. He shouldn't lie in an unmarked grave!"

"You have my word on it, Nicholas."

"Bless you." Then the old man went back to rocking on his stool. Ian moved away and motioned Marcus over closer.

"See he gets to the Hall. Tell Chamberlain the situation."

Marcus nodded, then Ian walked out of the room into the alley and walked off amid low mutters and angry stares. When he had turned the corner, he took the new block out, turning it over and over again in his hand as he, made his way back towards the Hall. But before he could even reach it, a messenger came riding up and called his name.

"Lord Blackthorn! Sir Evan's compliments, and he asks you join him at the old castle ruins on the West Road."

Ian looked up at the soldier. "Is it the mercenaries? Have they broken through?"

"No, milord. There's a body. A woman's body."

Yelling for Marcus, Ian ran for the stables.

Blackthorn 04/2001


Field of Death: The Harbinger

Red was the color of the curtains when he slipped through the window and landed solidly on the floor. His boots made little other noise as he walked over the soft rugs that lay beneath the fine furnishings of this elaborately decorated room. A bedroom. A couple's bedroom. Oh, the smell of it. The sweet scents of a lady's perfume mixed with the acidic odor of the leather that covered the chair beneath the window.

His gloved hand runs over the silk spread covering the bed and pillows, inspecting that which had been acquired by the family who lives there. Rich, solid colors adorn the room. Every piece and part a measure of grand opulence.

Now, the sound of voices. A young woman ushers a child down the hall, speaking with a familiar Irish lilt. As they turn away from the door, he opens it just enough to peer through the slit created. His eyes stay on the girl as she rounds the turn at the end of the hall then looks back at him just the instant before she disappears. Had she seen? No matter. The young one would not be allowed to falter from her course.

He walks back toward the dressing table, slipping a hand into the satchel at his waist. Without a sound, he sets a small wooden block, untouched by a carver's blade, on the small mirror set there. He moves the block just a bit, setting it just right, then turns and walks back toward the window.

Within moments, he is out the window and moving away from the light of this large home. He pulls tightly on his cloak and peers over his shoulder once more, eyes narrowing with rage as he sees figures moving across the red curtains of the window he had just left.

~~~~

Elspeth steps into their room and sighs, "I'm not sure which is worse, hosting all of these business guests or..." she blinks then sighs again, her shoulders falling with a noticeable wilt, "I'm far too exhausted to be witty."

Lerrad smiles as he crosses to his chair and sits, looking briefly at the window a moment before leaning to adjust the curtains. His voice is as cheerful as he can muster, given that he agrees with his wife, "The Count and his wife can be a bit much to handle, I'd agree. This is good business, though." He tugs at his boot with a grunt then drops it on the floor beside the bed, "We must spread our wings, if we are to grow."

"I know, it's just so tiring telling the same stories over and over." Elspeth says as she unbraids her hair with a wistful stare, "You would think that someone as worldly as the Count would not be so interested in our travels."

Lerrad just smiles as he pulls off the other boot, setting it aside with the first, "I'm glad we went on those trips now, Love. They may just win our family a powerful ally in the Count."

Elspeth smiles and nods, not really understanding the reason for such an ally, but knowing that it's probably for the best if Lerrad says it is. She finishes the last of her braids and looks at herself in the mirror then releases a breath as she reaches for her brush.

"Hmm," she says with a tilt to her head.

"What's that, Love?" Lerrad asks as he stands over his bureau reading a parchment there.

"This," Elspeth holds up a wooden block, "It's not like Marilyn's other blocks. I thought they were all colored." She turns, "You remember the ones my Aunt gave to her. They're all colored."

Lerrad nods and turns back to his reading. "Yes," he responds absentmindedly.

Elspeth looks at the block a moment longer then shrugs and sets it aside, going back to the task of brushing her hair.

Ernie 04/2001


Field of Death: Part V

Ian got the directions from the messenger as he saddled Horse, then nodded. "I know the place. My aide Lt. Marcus should be along shortly; tell him I couldn't wait, and that he is to join me there as soon as he has taken care of the matters we spoke about earlier. You go to the barracks and get some food after you've done that, all right? Good lad!" He gave the man a slap on the back before he vaulted up into the saddle and urged Horse out the stable doors and then through the castle gates.

The recent weather had been a short return to colder temperatures, so the muddy roads had frozen over and Ian was able to make good time to where the body was said to have been found. The area around Camelot contained several castles that had fallen into sorry states over the years, and the one that Evan was awaiting him at was one of the more picturesque relics of the days of Arthur. Breached walls, overgrown gardens and crumbling towers had made it a favorite rendezvous for more than one or two couples; on several occasions Ian had been called out by irate parents, sure their son or daughter was doing what they shouldn't in the shadows of the ruins.

He hoped the dead woman was no one he knew.

A half-hour later he rounded a bend and saw Evan waiting up ahead at what had once been the main gate of Castle De Galis. His former squire was leaning against part of the fire blackened wall, arms folded across his chest as he stared at the tips of his boots. At the sound of Ian's approach the young knight looked up, his face a mixture of anger and sorrow. He reached out to grab Horse's halter as Ian slid out of the saddle to stand beside him. "I wish I could say well met, milord, but my heart is heavy with the thing I have seen this day."

"Show me where she is, Evan."

"Very well, sir. She's this way." Evan went through the old gate and Ian fell in beside him, walking past the abandoned outer buildings that once housed troops and a bladesmith.

"How was she found?"

"I've men in the area, checking for any mercenary raiders." Evan's voice took on the tone and cadence of a report to a superior, the familiar routine helping him get control for a moment. "They saw some birds, circling, acting strangely, and when they drew closer realized they were kites and others, the birds one sees in skies over battlefields where the dead have fallen. They investigated, and when they did, they found her. The birds had gotten to her, sir, birds, and other beasts! Whoever did this, Sir Blackthorn, does not live by the Code, nor has any honor!"

"Murderers seldom do, Evan. They seldom do."

By now they were near the center of the ruins and some of Evan's men, perhaps the ones who had found the body, drew themselves to attention. This had been the inner courtyard, and near the center was the body of a woman lying on the ground. Ian looked at the assembled men. "I want you all to fan out and search the entire ruin. Move carefully, mind where you step, and sing out for Sir Evan and I should you find anything unusual." He waved his arm, and the men did as he had bid them. Evan, come with me." He walked over to view the body.

She'd only been dead a day or so, Ian judged. Evan had been right, the beasts had been at the body but not too badly. There was blood pooled and dried beneath her, but he saw a bloodstain a few feet away as well; he pointed it out. "She's been moved, Evan. Tell the men to look for more blood stains." The younger knight moved away as Ian checked for wounds, noting at once that the throat this time was untouched. There were, instead, two deep puncture wounds, both to the side, both of which were close to the heart. The face was not peaceful, but fearful, and there were bruises along one arm that looked to have been made by someone gripping it tightly. He lowered it gently back down to the dead woman's side, then let his eyes be drawn to the coin purse lying on her chest.

The bulge in it was, as he feared, yet another toy block, this with the letter R carved upon it in an identical fashion as the other two blocks. A piece of paper stuffed into purse proved to be a note from a secret admirer, telling the dead woman to meet him there. Possibly it was a coincident, but Ian didn't believe in coincidences. He pocketed the block and the letter as Evan came trotting back over to lead him back to a space between the crumbling wall and a toppled stone pillar. There was a sizable bloodstain near the pillar, not as large as by the body, but enough for Ian to nod.

"He stabbed her here, then carried her over out in the open so she would be seen easier. He wanted to be sure someone found her."

Evan pondered this, hand on chin. "Your pardon, milord, but you keep saying "he" and "him". Might not this be the work of a woman?"

"If it is, it would have to be a strong woman. This last victim is a tall woman herself, and carrying her all the way out there would need strength." Ian paused, a glimmer of an idea taking shape. "And by carrying a bleeding victim, our killer mayhap got some blood on his own clothes, perhaps quite a large stain. That's something to look into." He turned, walking back to the body, Evan beside him. "Did any of your men recognize her?"

"No, milord, I'm sad to say."

"Very well. Start at the nearest farms and villages. Tell all that we are looking for anyone who might have been seen with blood on their clothes recently." He glanced over at the body. "And ask about any woman whose name begins with R and has not been seen the last few days".

Blackthorn 04/2001