Fanuilh Daniel Hood (classic literature books TXT) 📖

to do't," Coeccias said ruefully, resuming his seat. "A confession' d do my heart good."

"He probably guesses that as well, and is hoping we'll give up. Or maybe he thinks my warning was all the punishment he'd get."

"Ah," Coeccias said, his eyes lighting with malicious humor, "then that was the matter you had when you let him off! To keep him off the Lady Necquer!"

Nodding miserably, Liam cursed himself. He had bungled it, bargaining with their best suspect for an unimportant tangent.

"Y'have a soft spot for the gentler sex; Rhenford, that much is clear. Perhaps he thinks we'll not take him for the murder because you're overfond of his sister, eh?"

The jibe stung, though a smile lit Coeccias's eyes, and Liam hung his head.

"Well, on the morrow we'll clap the player, and the matter'll be done."

Liam drank unhappily to the resolution. Strangely, he thought of Fanuilh. With Lons's arrest, he would have fulfilled his part of the bargain, regardless of his numerous missteps; he wondered if the dragon would carry out his part as ineptly.

They sat for a while, drinking the cider. Coeccias refilled the mugs twice, and Liam's face flushed with the spiked drink.

Suddenly the Aedile boomed out a laugh and slammed his mug to the table.

"Why sit we here like maudlin old crows?" he shouted, his teeth beaming hugely in his black beard. "We've conned and caught our killer! It's done! We're done with it! On the morrow he'll take up residence in the jail, and I' II to clearing drunken tars out of taverns, and you'll to your books! We're clear! Come! Bring the pot!"

The Aedile jumped to his feet and careered out of the kitchen. Liam stood more slowly, and felt the blood rush dizzily in his head. He had drunk more than was good for him, but lie had the sense to use a rag to hold the hot ring of the pot he took from the fire. Coeccias's sudden good cheer both surprised and amused him, and he gratefully allowed it to distract him from his melancholy mood.

Calling for Burus to light a fire in the parlor and to bring food, Coeccias then saw to the fire himself, and cursed the servant good-naturedly when he appeared.

"Damn your slowness, Burus! I've the fire in hand! You to the food, and mind you bring your pipes as well, and a third mug! Now, Rhenford," he called when Liam came in, carefully carrying the pot, "hang it on the fire, and see yourself to another mug!"

Burus came back with a huge tray covered with cold meat, cheese and bread, and a flute under his arm. Liam perceived through the rapidly descending haze of the cider that the servant's smile was sour by a trick of his face, and that he was well acquainted with his master's sudden moods. He left the food on a chest that stood by the fire, and stood back to check his flute.

Though his lunch had been large, Liam attacked the platter, both because the spiked cider had given him a new appetite and because he was afraid of the haze it had imposed.

"Now, Burus," Coeccias said while Liam stuffed sausage, cheese and bread indiscriminately down his throat, "it's not yet Uris's appointed fasting time, and Rhenford and I've finished up a business the like of which I've never seen in my office, and there's most of a pot of cider to down. So, you'll have a mug, and we'll have a tune." Gesturing imperiously, he filled the extra mug and thrust it at the servant, who took a deep draught before setting it down and commencing a high, lively air on his flute.

Coeccias burst out laughing and applauding at once, and stamped his feet in a ragged approximation of time.

"Go to, go to, Burns! He knows," the Aedile bellowed confidingly to Liam, "that that's my favorite." Liam was busy with the food he had heaped in his lap, but he managed to look up and nod appreciatively, though he had never heard the tune before.

By the end of the song, Liam had finished a large portion of the food on the platter, refilled his mug and begun beating out the rhythm on his knees. Burns was more than a fair musician, and Liam recognized his next song with a bright grin and an emphatic nod of approval. The servant had . started in on "The Lipless Flutist" over the strenuous objections of Coeccias, who wanted to hear the first song again. As soon as he saw that Liam was engrossed in the song, however, he stopped shouting for the old one, and came and sat by him, slurring his question slightly.

"It likes you?"

"Very much," Liam replied, running over the obscene words to the song in his head and noticing the mischievous glint in Burus's eye as he cocked his head over the plain wooden flute. It seemed as though the servant was daring him to sing.

"Then sing it," Coeccias roared in his ear, swaying perilously.

"I can't sing."

"Play?" When Liam, wanting only to hear the song and recall its lyrics, ignored him, the Aedile grabbed him and shouted his question again. "Can you play?"

"Yes, yes."

"The lute?"

"Yes, the lute, a little," Liam said, willing his friend to be quiet. To his great disappointment, however, it was Burns who was quiet, laying aside his flute and looking at his master with an unvoiced question. Coeccias lurched to his feet and went to the chest. Dropping the platter on the floor, he flung the lid open and rummaged for a moment, coming up with a much-battered lute case. He opened it tenderly, and revealed a rosewood lute of tremendous craftsmanship, with ivory pegs and silvered edges. He presented it to Liam and then took a seat on a caned chair off to one side of the room.

"Will you, sir?" They were the first words Liam had heard Burus say, and he was surprised to hear a courtly voice issue from the sour face. He noticed suddenly