The Lastoc of the Annumpi: "Spoltal? What Spoltal?"

Part 6: Spoltal? What Spoltal?

While the long summer twilight dragged on, Lemuel lay in the fringe of the tall grass and watched Don Hernando’s manor.  He saw the comings and goings of the O’Brien clan as they wound up the day’s chores. He saw the children burning through their final reserves of energy in futile attempts to avoid being marched up to bath and bed. A few older children wandered by, some ambling about, victims of the disjointed, unfocused motion of minds on hormones, while others moved furtively, starring in their unique, but familiar, dramas of desire, escape, and freedom.

An orange cat walking along the mown edge of the grass bent a tattered ear toward Lemuel and froze. He turned his scarred head in Lemuel’s direction, his yellow staring into the tall grass.  Lemuel hissed and tried to wave it away, but this only drew the cat’s interest. The cat flattened himself against the path and laid his ears back. He slowly and deliberately crept toward Lemuel. Lemuel considered throwing a stone to scare the cat away, but he didn’t want to risk drawing attention. Instead, he drew the hood of his gesconat over his head and lay still. 

Lemuel had grown up around dogs. It’s important to know that. No one who grew up around cats would think that covering yourself in fur and lying very still would discourage a cat’s attention. Particularly one as tough looking as this orange tabby.

The cat picked its way through the tall grass and stood cautiously by Lemuel’s head. His face hidden under the hood, Lemuel could not see the cat. The cat was surprised but undaunted by the size of the furry thing that lay on the ground before him. He carefully reached out and tapped the fur covered hood. The thing twitched which drew a pounce with full front claws. The claws tore through the hood and dug into Lemuel’s scalp. He jerked his head and yelped. The cat was lifted into the air and tossed onto its back. It rolled and shook its paws free from some fur he’d torn away from the beast. It looked up and saw the thing rising above him. Hissing, it slashed at the monster for the look of it, then ran for cover, its bristling tail lashing the tall grass as it ran.

Lemuel quickly changed his hiding place and gingerly touched his scalp. There were several deep, parallel scratches that oozed blood. He dug around in his pockets where he kept a kind of medical kit and found piece of cloth that he laid over the wounds. He pulled up the tattered hood to hold the cloth in place, then he rested until his heart rate returned to normal.

Lemuel waited until darkness had settled over the countryside and brought quiet along with it. He'd seen candles on the second floor flare and flicker for a few minutes, then be extinguished. The children must be in bed, he thought.  He could hear two voices softly talking, but he couldn’t see the speakers. He listened patiently to their footsteps on a gravel path until the crunching faded and the voices with it. Once, he thought he a horse whinny, but it was quickly muffled, and he couldn’t be certain. No one had walked down the path that marked the edge of the tall grass for at least a half an hour. The outbuildings to the north were dark and house, to the south, seemed settled in for the evening. It was time to act.

Lemuel rose and carefully made his way through the grass and across the path. He swiftly ran to the base of an oak tree that stood outside the fenced yard. He had climbed the tree many times and his hands and feet effortlessly found the bumps and indentations that practice had turned into steps. He reached the heavy bough that hung low over the enclosed yard and stretched his body full length on the thick limb. From this protected place, Lemuel caught his breath and scanned the yard.

Below him, Lemuel could make out the slumbering form of Eugusto and the heavy chain that staked him down. Lemuel was pleased to see that foal that was in the yard yesterday had been removed. He hoped that the evil man who had captured Eugusto had not killed the poor thing. Images of the rows of skeletons and vile jars that lined the shelves of the man’s workroom flashed into his head. He blinked them away and swore that tonight he would free Eugusto. Tonight he would save his spoltal.

Lemuel shifted positions on the limb and looked into the open window of the workroom. The workroom opened into the yard and Lemuel wanted to be certain that the man he’d seen writing at a desk the past few nights was gone. He usually left before dark, but sometimes he came back and read or wrote until the early hours of the morning. “Not tonight,” Lemuel whispered. “An early night tonight, please.” He checked his pocket and counted his diodarts. He had prepared eight. He never used one against a human and hoped he wouldn’t have to tonight. He wanted darkness and quiet, that’s all. Then he would free Eugusto and they would both flee into the sea of tall grass where no one would find them.

Maria leaned back in her chair and stretched, trying to loosen the tightness in her back. It had been such a long day and she wanted to change out of her field clothes, bathe, and see what Mrs. O’Brien had set aside for her dinner. Her rough cloth shirt and pants were dirty and stiff with sweat. She ran a hand through her short, dark hair, trying to comb out the impression left by her broad-brimmed straw hat. Her feet were hot and sweaty in the heavy boots she wore when she was working. She slid her chair back to the desk and reached for a thick reference book. “One last point to check and that’s it for tonight,” she thought.

When Maria closed her journal, Lemuel tensed. He saw the slightly built man push the journal away, but then he reached for another book. Lemuel swore softly and decided that he must act now in spite of the man. It looked like it was going to another late night and he could not stand the thought of Eugusto’s being captive any longer. Everything was planned for tonight and tonight it would be. If there was to a confrontation, so be it. Lemuel made certain that his tools were securely tied around his waist, and then dropped lightly to the ground and raced over to Eugusto.

The chained beast opened one eye and saw a large, fur covered thing drop from the tree. He opened his other eye and peered over his blunt gray muzzle at the thing that ran toward him. He sensed danger, but his brain was so befuddled, he couldn’t act. He just wanted to sleep. The shaggy beast tried to rise on his thick, short legs, but his shoulder ached and his damaged paw still hurt tremendously. A wave of nausea swept over him as his weigh shifted onto his injured leg. Suddenly exhausted and disinterested, the old beast flopped down with a rattle of chains.

Lemuel lifted the broad, flat head of the beast and said, “Eugusto, my friend, quiet now, and let me work on your chains.” Lemuel drew a file and a short, heavy hatchet from the sack tied around his waist. He set the hatchet down and kneeling by the reclining beast Lemuel began filing through the heavy chain. Eugusto snuffled and whined, his shoulder throbbing. He tried to move away, but Lemuel’s grip on the heavy chain pinned the old beast down. 

Maria lay down her pen and listened. A sound from the yard had penetrated her attention on her reading, but she could not identify it. She listened intently and heard it again, this time recognizing Eugusto's low grunting. "But he should be asleep," she thought. She glanced at the chart by the door and saw that, yes, she had dosed him when she checked on him several hours ago. Maria closed her book and decided she better check on him again. On her way out, Maria grabbed her field jacket from the hook on the back of the door and slipped it on. Her pocket pistols bumped solidly against her hips. There had  been reports of thieves in the area and Maria always made it a point to be prepared.

The darkness of the yard was broken by two perpendicular rectangles of light, one cast by an oil lamp in Marie’s study and one from a kitchen light. The patches of light made the dark areas of the yard even blacker. Marie entered the yard and quickly stepped out of the light. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the  darkness and listened carefully. She could hear a low, grating, metallic sound and Eugusto’s muffled groaning. She drew a pistol and went to investigate. 

In the darkness, another silently approached Don Herando’s home. Cupido clung to the shadows as he  worked his way around toward the yard. He had made a circuit of the house, but he had not been able to determine where Donna Maria was located. He hoped that she had not retired upstairs to her room for tonight he was going to act. He would show those loudmouths at the inn that he, Don Cupido, was a man. He would not be the butt of their jokes any longer. Tonight Maria would come with him or he would take her. Everyone would see that Don Cupido could take what he wanted. Everyone would see that he was not a man to take lightly. Cupido took a long pull, screwed the silver cap down tightly, and slid the smooth flask into his pocket. He tapped it twice in a habitual motion and felt the brandy slosh in the near empty flask. Time to go. 

Cupido slipped the latch, squeezed past the gate, and entered the yard.  He quietly closed the gate and made his way to a spot where he could spy through Maria’s study window,  carefully avoiding the light from the kitchen window.  In the darkness, his foot slammed into something dark and solid that rolled heavily against him, growling menacingly. Cupido tried to free his boot from under the heavy weight that pinned it down, but instead he stumbled onto a foul-smelling, hairy thing and his head hit something hard. As he fell, a thin, dark, hooded wraith rose before him.  A bloody, winding cloth wrapped around its head and it pointed a huge an axe at him. “Leave here,” the creature commanded and then it sank down to its knees beside the chained beast. It was sawing at the creature which was whining and moaning. Cupido scrambled to his feet and rapidly backed away from the Hellish scene. He slammed into the fence and was pinned there, afraid to move. 

Maria heard the noisy confusion and reached through the open window to grab a lantern from her study. She ran toward the disturbance, her lantern held high and her pistol charged and cocked. She pulled up short when she saw the dark form kneeling over the agitated Eugusto. The crouching figure was thin, and shrouded in hooded fur cloak. Keeping her pistol on the thing, she stepped forward and hung the lantern from a tree branch. The circle of light caught Cupido cowering against the fence, but Maria was focusing on the bizarre scene in front of her and did not notice him. Cupido scurried out of the light. Maria took another step toward him and called out, “Get away from him.”

Lemuel glanced up, the glare of the lantern nearly blinding him. He saw the evil man he dreaded, then  he saw the pistol. Everything was going wrong, but Lemuel was past caring. Seventeen years of waiting had come down to tonight. He would see it through.  If he were shot, so be it. It must end tonight.  Lemuel dropped the file and drew out the hatchet. 

Maria saw the hatchet in the man’s hands and stepped back. “Put it down,” she barked, “or I’ll shoot.”

Lemuel raised the heavy hatchet and slammed it down on the link he’d been filing. The chain snapped. Lemuel dropped the hatchet and scooped up Eugusto, staggering under the unexpected weight. Eugusto whined as Lemuel gripped his injured shoulder. He trashed about as the pain shot through his body and snapped at the hairy thing that held him. 

“Be still, my friend,” Lemuel whispered, pulling the struggling animal to his chest. He staggered under the unexpected weight.  “You will soon be safe,” Lemuel whispered to the beast and he started toward the gate, cradling the injured Eugusto in his arms. 

“What are you doing?” cried Maria. “Put him down.”

Lemuel keep walking, all the while making soothing noises to try and calm the agitated Eugusto.

Cupido had watched the scene from the shadows and tried to make sense of it all. He’d emptied his flask and filled his reservoir of courage. He decided that the horrible thing was simply a thief and this was his chance to be the hero. He drew his sword and stepped out of the darkness, blocking Lemuel’s way. “Halt, thief,” cried Cupido theatrically as he struck what he hoped was a heroic pose.

Lemuel could ignore Maria’s pistol, a ball somehow seemed like an abstract threat, but the three feet of sharpened steel blocking the gate was another thing.  Lemuel stopped and looked behind him. Maria was closing in on him. He shifted Eugusto so he could could hold him with one arm. Lemuel drew a short length of hollowed reed from the folds of his hood and put the tube to his lips. He blew two sharp puffs into the tube.  Cupido yelped and dropped his sword. A diodart struck deep into each of his thighs. He wobbled and staggered against a fencepost for support.

Cupido yanked out a diodart and saw that it two headed. “You bastard,” he yelled at Lemuel. “It was you. I’ll kill you.” Cupido dropped his sword and drew a pistol. He staggered and grabbed at the gate to keep from falling. The gate swung open and pulled Cupido with it. His legs were beginning to stiffen and waves of pain were sweeping up his spine.

Maria walked into the lighted rectangle cast by the kitchen light. Lemuel was startled to see that she was a woman.  She ignored Lemuel and addressed Cupido sharply. “Put down that pistol and shut up,” she  said. “I can handle this.”

She turned to Lemuel and, gesturing toward Cupido, she demanded, “What did you do to him?” 

“I was protecting us. It won’t hurt him, but it will slow him down.”

“Are you certain?”

“Almost.”

Cupido cried out, “Almost! What do mean almost!”

“I’ve never used it on humans,” said Lemuel simply.

Cupido swore and roared at Lemuel while steadying himself against the gatepost. He pointed his pistol unsteadily at Lemuel.

“Enough,” Maria interrupted loudly.  “Both of you. We have a more serious problem to deal with.”

Maria turned to face Lemuel and said very quietly, “It is important that we all calm down and speak softly. When Eugusto gets excited the draught wears off quickly. Trust me, you do not want to be holding Eugusto when the draught wears of.”

Lemuel drew himself up and look as haughty as is possible for a man to look in a long, tattered fur cloak while holding a large, hairy groaning beast.  He announced to all within earshot that, “I state here and now that Eugusto is my spoltal. He will never hurt me.”

“Spoltal? What spoltal?,” answered Maria. “He isn’t a spoltal. He’s a badger. And a rather large, mean one at that.” 

Lemuel was stunned. “You lie, " he stammered. "You must. Look at you. You dress like a man. You fill your room with skeletons. You are a monster. You lie!”

“Enough,” roared Cupido, dragging himself forward. His legs were stiff and his balance was disturbed. All the color had drained from his face. He pointed his pistol at Lemuel and growled, “I’m going to shoot you first and then I'll take care of that damned badger. No one attacks me and walks away.” He raised his pistol.

“Don’t,” said Maria with a firmness that stopped Cupido in his tracks. Her pistol was trained on him. “He is harmless. Leave here, you are not wanted.  I will deal with this. Just go.”

Cupido smiled at her. “Put down that pistol, woman. You will not shoot me.” He took aim at Lemuel and two pistol shots rang out.