is this loud fellow?’
‘This is Trig the Fuller, Highness,’ answered the senior watchman. ‘He claims someone broke into his room and stole from him. He says he was awakened by the sounds of struggle on his roof.’
Trig interrupted. ‘They were fighting over my head, over my … very … head …’ His voice trailed off as he realized who he was speaking to. ‘… Your Highness,’ he finished, suddenly embarrassed.
The heavy-browed watchman threw him a stern look. ‘He says he heard some sort of scream and, like a turtle, pulled his head back in from the window.’
Trig nodded vigorously. ‘Like someone was doing murder, doing bloody murder, Your Highness. It was horrible.’ The beefy watchman visited Trig with an elbow to the ribs at the interruption.
The young watchman came from the side alley. ‘Thiswas lying atop some rubbish on the street the other side of the house, Bert.’ He held out the assassin’s sword. ‘There was some blood on the grip, but none on the blade. There’s also a small pool of blood in the alley, but no body, anywhere.’
Arutha motioned for Gardan to take the sword. The young watchman, observing the guards and the obvious position of command assumed by the newcomers, handed up the sword, then doffed his own cap.
Arutha received the sword from Gardan, saw nothing significant in it, and returned it to the watchman. ‘Turn your guards around, Gardan. It is late and there’s little sleep left this night.’
‘But what of the theft?’ cried the fuller, shaken loose from his silence. ‘It was my savings, my life savings! I’m ruined! What shall I do?’
The Prince turned his horse and came alongside the watchmen. To Trig he said, ‘I offer my sympathies, good fuller, but rest assured the watch will do their utmost to retrieve your goods.’
‘Now,’ said Bert to Trig, ‘I suggest you turn in for what’s left of the night, sir. In the morning you may enter a complaint with the duty sergeant of the watch. He’ll want a description of what was taken.’
‘What was taken? Gold, man, that’s what they took! My hoard, my entire hoard!’
‘Gold, is it? Then,’ said Bert, with the voice of experience, ‘I suggest you turn in and tomorrow begin to rebuild your treasure, for as sure as there’s fog in Krondor, you’ll not see one coin again. But do not be too disconsolate, good sir. You are a man of means, and gold quickly accrues to those of your station, resources, and enterprise.’
Arutha stifled a laugh, for despite the man’s personal tragedy, he stood a comic figure in his nightshirt of linen, his nightcap tipping forward to almost touch his nose.‘Good fuller, I will make amends.’ He pulled his dagger from his belt and handed it down to Bert the watchman. ‘This weapon bears my family crest. The only others like it are worn by my brothers, the King and the Duke of Crydee. Return it to the palace tomorrow and a bag of gold will be placed in its stead. I’ll have no unhappy fullers in Krondor on the day of my homecoming. Now I bid you all good night.’ Arutha spurred his horse and led his companions towards the palace.
When Arutha and his guards had vanished into the gloom, Bert turned to Trig. ‘Well then, sir, there’s a happy end to it,’ he said, passing the Prince’s dagger over to the fuller. ‘And you may take some added pleasure in knowing you are one of the few of common birth who may claim to have spoken with the Prince of Krondor, albeit under somewhat strange and difficult circumstances.’ To his men he said, ‘Let us back to our rounds. There’ll be more than this one little bit of fun in Krondor on a night like this.’ He signalled for his men to follow and led them off into the white murk.
Trig stood alone. After a moment his expression brightened and he shouted up to his wife and any others who still looked out of their windows, ‘I’ve spoken to the Prince! I, Trig the Fuller!’ Feeling emotions somewhat akin to elation,
‘This is Trig the Fuller, Highness,’ answered the senior watchman. ‘He claims someone broke into his room and stole from him. He says he was awakened by the sounds of struggle on his roof.’
Trig interrupted. ‘They were fighting over my head, over my … very … head …’ His voice trailed off as he realized who he was speaking to. ‘… Your Highness,’ he finished, suddenly embarrassed.
The heavy-browed watchman threw him a stern look. ‘He says he heard some sort of scream and, like a turtle, pulled his head back in from the window.’
Trig nodded vigorously. ‘Like someone was doing murder, doing bloody murder, Your Highness. It was horrible.’ The beefy watchman visited Trig with an elbow to the ribs at the interruption.
The young watchman came from the side alley. ‘Thiswas lying atop some rubbish on the street the other side of the house, Bert.’ He held out the assassin’s sword. ‘There was some blood on the grip, but none on the blade. There’s also a small pool of blood in the alley, but no body, anywhere.’
Arutha motioned for Gardan to take the sword. The young watchman, observing the guards and the obvious position of command assumed by the newcomers, handed up the sword, then doffed his own cap.
Arutha received the sword from Gardan, saw nothing significant in it, and returned it to the watchman. ‘Turn your guards around, Gardan. It is late and there’s little sleep left this night.’
‘But what of the theft?’ cried the fuller, shaken loose from his silence. ‘It was my savings, my life savings! I’m ruined! What shall I do?’
The Prince turned his horse and came alongside the watchmen. To Trig he said, ‘I offer my sympathies, good fuller, but rest assured the watch will do their utmost to retrieve your goods.’
‘Now,’ said Bert to Trig, ‘I suggest you turn in for what’s left of the night, sir. In the morning you may enter a complaint with the duty sergeant of the watch. He’ll want a description of what was taken.’
‘What was taken? Gold, man, that’s what they took! My hoard, my entire hoard!’
‘Gold, is it? Then,’ said Bert, with the voice of experience, ‘I suggest you turn in and tomorrow begin to rebuild your treasure, for as sure as there’s fog in Krondor, you’ll not see one coin again. But do not be too disconsolate, good sir. You are a man of means, and gold quickly accrues to those of your station, resources, and enterprise.’
Arutha stifled a laugh, for despite the man’s personal tragedy, he stood a comic figure in his nightshirt of linen, his nightcap tipping forward to almost touch his nose.‘Good fuller, I will make amends.’ He pulled his dagger from his belt and handed it down to Bert the watchman. ‘This weapon bears my family crest. The only others like it are worn by my brothers, the King and the Duke of Crydee. Return it to the palace tomorrow and a bag of gold will be placed in its stead. I’ll have no unhappy fullers in Krondor on the day of my homecoming. Now I bid you all good night.’ Arutha spurred his horse and led his companions towards the palace.
When Arutha and his guards had vanished into the gloom, Bert turned to Trig. ‘Well then, sir, there’s a happy end to it,’ he said, passing the Prince’s dagger over to the fuller. ‘And you may take some added pleasure in knowing you are one of the few of common birth who may claim to have spoken with the Prince of Krondor, albeit under somewhat strange and difficult circumstances.’ To his men he said, ‘Let us back to our rounds. There’ll be more than this one little bit of fun in Krondor on a night like this.’ He signalled for his men to follow and led them off into the white murk.
Trig stood alone. After a moment his expression brightened and he shouted up to his wife and any others who still looked out of their windows, ‘I’ve spoken to the Prince! I, Trig the Fuller!’ Feeling emotions somewhat akin to elation,
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