16th of Wealsun, 582 Part Three: Checking The Miller's Tale
It was past two in the afternoon, when the four females found themselves awake, semi refreshed, and sitting in Shepton's study.
"This morning you said something about murder. That is a rare occurrence in these parts. This is a simple village. A noose around the neck could well be suicide. Do you have anything else to offer?"
Daltonne looked at her friends and says, "Well I thin one of you more eloquently speaking ladies should explain what we found and how we come to find it. But please remember when we found the body it had been cut down with the noose still around his neck. This is no suicide in my opinion. But I leave it to one of you to speak."
"Sir, if this were suicide, how did a dead man manage to cut the rope that held him up? The cut is clean and was assuredly made by a sharp object." The blonde elf leaned back in her chair.
Jessa told of how they found the corpse, starting with the chase to the mill, with the others commenting as she went along; telling their parts of tale and adding anything she have forgotten. She told how they gradually worked their way upstairs to the locked rooms, where they found the diary and the account list. Then she told the mayor of how they came upon the trapdoor to the attic and what they found there.
Shepton listened intently to the account of the events that led to the finding of the body. He showed little reaction as he did so. Once Jessa has finished her tale, he frowned. "This is bad, very bad. You have made a very good case for murder here. But, who would want to murder Maury Miller, mmM?"
"What about that man who the miller and that Arnod guy 'told off'?" Jessa speculated.
"Who might that be," asked Mayor Shepton, a little too innocently.
"Good point Jessa, " Serena said. "Lets review the diary with Mayor Shepton, he may be able to explain what it means."
Daltonne looked back at BB, "Sur, why not?"
Daltonne then responded to Jessa's comment. "Yea, what about this Arnoud guy? Mr. Mayor, iffin you want our help I'm thinnin that you had better tell us all you know. This here is plain murder and we should get to the bottom if it afore any more things happen."
Mayor Shepton took a look through the diary very quickly, as the women looked on. He pronounced it `very interesting, but what does it prove?' in a higher pitch than normal.
Daltonne suggested he actually _read_ the last few pages this time. He grinned sheepishly, and looked back at the telling pages. He seemed to read it thoroughly, and then again. Finally he closed the book, then looks away, as if deciding something. Then he turned back. "Yes, I do remember something about a meeting. But I thought it was just idle gossip, nothing of significance. Something to do with taxes, but they have nothing to do with me, so I paid it no mind. Maybe I made a mistake. "
Shepton got up from his seat and began pacing the floor. He was visibly upset and nervous. "Still there is not much I can do. I am only the local mayor. Taxes are collects by the representative from Narwell. He is above reproach, but murder, .... Still we have all we need. " He walked to the doorway. "Mrs. Teubo? Send for Snags. And please bring us some afternoon tea."
Shepton continued to pace, not paying any attention to anything said to him. A few minutes passed till Mrs. Teubo entered with tea and cakes. Here we are, Sir, Ladies." Shepton paid it little mind. "Oh? help yourselves," is all he said.
Snags arrived, bringing the Mayor out of his stupor. "Snags, get Anord over here. On The Double," he added, shouting. The boy was taken aback by the normally docile mayor's tone, but complied. More minutes passed. Shepton spent them staring out the window, his hands behind his back, winging them furiously.
The scene was thankfully broken by the return of Snags and the entrance of Anord. The man was maybe 5 and a half feet tall, painfully lean, with stooped shoulder. His face was ruddy and has the look of a furrowed field. His clothes were rugged farm wear, extremely dirty and well worn. He feet were shoes less, and his socks were toeless. He was visibly uncomfortable in these surroundings. He looked about sheepishly. Then, realizing there were four women present, he removed his large brimmed and floppy hat. "Sorry."
"Anord," announced Shepton, "just the man we need. Here," producing a straight backed wooden chair, "Sit here."
The farmer moved slowly, `dead man walking' speed to the chair, checked it, then sat, as if on hot coals.
"Now Anord, I'd liked to know all you know about the meeting which took place some months back, the one the miller held, just what did you have to do with Maury's death?!" he asked sternly.
At this point Anord's eyes opened as wide as saucers, he stammered, but no sounds come forth. A dark stain appeared on his pants.
Shepton pressed onward. "You were the last person to see him alive. Why did you kill Maury?"
Anord fainted dead away.
Serena wrinkled her nose in disgust. Crossing her arms she looked over to the mayor. "I think he knows something." Then she laughed, unable to restrain herself "Scared the piss out of him, as the common folk say! Mayor, before you wake him, I'd like to prepare a spell that would determine the truthfulness of his statements. I'll require a candle and no more. With your permission of course." She added, "It may be a good idea to check him for concealed weapons, he may get feisty if given the chance."
Black Blade snorted somewhat, kneeling next to Arnord and feeling for a pulse.
"He's gotta know something, girls," she whispered. "Something had to happen between our friend the cadaver and him. But I'm thinking there was a third person involved." She found no weapons of any kind on the poor man.
With the help of a little water, Anord began to regain consciousness
As Anord came to, Serena cast Flame Truth before the real interrogation began. She placed a lit candle near him, knowing that the candle would flicker when a lie is told.
Shepton asked, "Did you kill Maury?"
"NO! Why would I kill him? He was me best friend." The candle did not flicker.
"OK then, tell us about the meeting and what happened."
Anord was obviously distressed, but he managed to tell his tale. "It was Maury's idea. He wanted to protest the tax. You know Mister Mayor, the hated Public Defense Tax?"
Shepton nodded a wincing acknowledgment. His eyes darted about. "Go on man."
"So that night, the last night I saw Maury, maybe twenty or so of us went to the mill. We had our pitchforks and axes ready, ya see. So when old Rander and his cronies shows up, well old Maury stepped forward and tells him ta go peddle his papers. He said in a firm voice that the people of Lowick would no longer pay the private Defense Tax, and would only be paying the Baron's Tax like we always done before. Well, Rander was none to pleased, but what could he do? He smiled and rode off. Now we all had a small celebration, and most then headed off. Me, I stayed behind to chew the fat a bit, and we played a game or two a' nucks, old Maury won me. Guess it was his night. But then I left. He was alive when I left, I swear it." His eyes look around, pleading for belief. The candle never once flickered.
"So what happened to Maury then?"
Again Anord claimed ignorance. "First I knew anything was amiss was sometime round noon the next day. I heard from someone that Lagus the Weaver had been to the mill in the morning to buy some flour. He found the mill empty, or so he figured, since it was sealed up by the King's Representative. Story I heard was Maury had failed to pay his tax and fled. Course, bout a week later, Rander doubled the Public Defense Tax, and we've been paying ever since. That's all I know about this. Now I don't want no trouble with anyone, least of all Rander." Again the candle remained still. Anord shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He finally realized the condition of his pants. Turning a bright crimson, he apologized profusely.
Jessa smiled reassuringly. "It's all right," she said glancing at Shepton out of the corner of her eye. "I think, perhaps, that the mayor was a bit to hasty in his accusations."
"Would this Rander fellow have sent someone to kill the miller? Or even do the deed himself?" Jessa Wren wondered.
"Serena," BB hissed, "Can that magic candle of yours work on another person? I think it's high time we question the mayor on this Rander guy and find out what's behind this."
"But this still doesn't explain the scarecrow. Maury's ghost? A lich? Zombie's out of the question--we have Maury Cadaver here." She flipped her thumb indicating outside. "Still, let's question Mister Mayor about this Defense Tax, anyway. And if your candle doesn't work, Serena--" BB taps the hilt of Fear almost casually, "--I think I have something that will."
Serena furrowed her brow and replied to Black Blade. "I would think so, though I cannot be sure."
Daltonne whispered to Serena, "Yes Serena, I thin we need to find out more 'bout this Randar character & this tax, though I still thin the mayor isn't really in on it, jus scairt, at least for now."
Checking to see that the mayor wasn't listening Serena replied, "I think he's scared of the tax collector. Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't like the sound of that PRIVATE defense tax. And notice he came to collect it at night, with cronies. Perhaps we should ask the mayor to give us some information on Randar. Never mind his being 'above reproach' and all."
"Mayor, is this defense tax some sort of extortion?" Serena asked the mayor.
*I thought I was the one who was suspicious*, Jessa said to herself.
Mayor Shepton took a long look at the candle, the unflickering candle. Then he looked at poor distraught Anord. The Mayor's shoulders sagged, his knees seemed to buckle. He sat down. "I was hoping it would not come to this."
He stared at the candle once more, then looked towards Serena. "Some six or so months back, this Rander fellow and his two cronies, or thugs you might call them, arrived here as the new official representing the Baron of Narwell. Our village in under Narwell's global control, has been for a century or more. As such, it is our accepted duty to pay a standard tax to Narwell, and Rander was the newly appointed Tax Collector.
"Shortly after his arrival, he added a new twist to this standard tax. He introduced the new Public Defense Tax. From what you found in Maury Miller's records, you can judge for yourselves how much higher it was. Now, if you wish to term it `extortion,' you may. I'm just the mayor here, I am below the Baron's official representative on the ladder of village life.
"I heard rumors of this meeting of which Anord just spoke. After the meeting, nothing more was said about it, so I thought nothing had come of it. Suppose it was easy for me to believe that Maury had fled. Even if I knew he was dead, there is not much I could do about it. When this `scarecrow' business began, I did complain to Rander. I asked him for some Public Defense. He told me that if I knew what was good for me, I'd shut up and stop bothering him. That was when I came up with the idea of sending Snags to the cross roads to enlist heroes, or heroines in your case, to stop the fires. I did not suspect that the two things could be connected."
Shepton sat back in his chair. He seemed genuinely relieved to have told his tale. He never once glanced at the candle, not that it flickered anyway.
"Even with what you four have, there is nothing that I can do against Rander. I do not have the authority." He seemed truly frustrated by his lack of ability.
"Extortion?" Black Blade snarled, gazing out the window. "I don't like the looks of this.
"Of course, I think it was high time we sought out this Rander fellow and 'question' him," she added, a smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth as her finger, once again, involuntarily tapping Fear's hilt. As much as she hated her cursed weapon, she knew of its advantages. Also, it seemed to everyone that she had an itching to draw it. Maybe that was part of the curse of her runesword?
"I'm not sure I agree Black Blade, at this moment its unlikely Rander knows we're on to his extortion. Questioning him directly may resolve nothing more than getting us killed," Serena said. Turning to the mayor, "Rander is the Baron of Narwell's official tax collector you say? Well, it seems we have a piece of evidence showing that Rander is stealing from the Baron himself. I would think we could gather a few more bits of evidence from the good people hereabouts, including our friend the mayor, and petition the Baron for relief." She continued, "All we need is a collection of written statements and records such as those," she pointed to the diary, "and I think we may have enough to attract the Baron's attention. After all, Rander is stealing from him by collecting a tax and keeping it for himself."
"What do you think Mayor Shepton? Could we petition the Baron? Or should Black Blade just go kill the bastard?" Serena laughed, glancing at her anxious companion.
"I don't think we should go killing people just yet" Jessa said giving Black Blade a sideways look. "Perhaps there is a way to force him to confess."
Daltonne looked at everyone and said, "Well to my way of thinning the Law is the law and sometimes justice and the law do not always 'meet' shall we say. I say sur Serena let's git all the statements and whatnot you want from the good folks around here, but let's catch us this here Randar. Now I purpose we git someone to be the New Miller. How 'bout that 'er man we met us on the road to here. Or someone else. It matters not. Anyway, we re-open the mill and see iffen this here Randar comes a calling. It's my thinnin' that he will. We all wait in that 'secret room and listen and then wes come out and catch the guy. Now we have to have a backup so we make sur that every night the folks will be outside hidin' and Mayor Shepton will be there so iffin we can't catch him in the room. But iffen he gits away the city folk & the mayor will be there to catch 'im. When he comes out of that there mill, we'll have a signal fer everyone to surrond 'im, and we will catch 'im. And then we will hav' all the proof we need to go to the Baron." She looked to Anord, "Well ther, when did this here Randar coma a calling, I mean at night or durin the day?"
"Serena perhaps you cud charm this guy, I mean you bein' so charmin' and all. Or maybe you all have some other ideas? I jes don't thin that only papers is gonna do it, beggin' you pardon Serena."
Mayor Shepton quickly dismissed violence, "No, No, killing Rander would have no good end to it. You would become the ones in trouble. He is the official representative of the Baron. No, killing is a definite no-no."
He thought a bit. "Now, proving him guilty of wrongful tax and murder, yes, that would be the way to go. Both of the plans you have are good ones. If you gathered papers and took them to the Baron in Narwell, and if he gave you and audience, well, that might work. Of course, if you got him to implicate himself, in front of trustworthy witnesses, well that would be even better . My word would not be considered good enough. And you, as much as I respect you, your collective words would be seen as those of mere adverturesses. None of you are clerical, are you?. The Baron has a great respect for the clergy. So, whichever, or a combination of the two, would be good."
Shepton seemed relived and hopeful. "Just don't go killing him."
"I don't suppose any of you know a knight, paladin or a member of the clergy?" Serena asked.
"Clergy, no," Black Blade sighed. "What religion is Rander? I have an idea. It'll involve Fear, unfortunately, but it shouldn't involve killing. Fear's cursed, she ain't bloodthristy, unlike one of her sister blades."
Daltonne replied to Serena. "Well, I seems to remember that we met that fellow O'Dywer on our way here and seems to me he said he was a cleric of Triton, or Tritereon or some such name. Don't recall exactly. Anyway, we git the Mayor here to let the word out that Anord is going to be the new miller, and then we git that O'Dwyer cleric to act as his accountant or something. We stay near by and then at night we hide in the secret room and listen to what Randar says. This way we have more proof and the word of the cleric to top it off. The Baron will be more likely to listen to us. In the meantime let's get some of those letters and documents Serena talked about. What do you all say?"
Jessa nodded her head in agreement. "Yes, that would be a lot better than slicing Randar's head off." The elf smirked, "At least for the moment." She turned to Serena, "How would we get the incriminating letters we need, though? Wouldn't people be to afraid to speak out like that against him?"
"Not if we get enough people do a petition against the bastard," Black Blade inspected her fingernails. "Though I really am not big on diplomacy, maybe we can get an entire town to, I don't know, usurp him?"
Mayor Shepton listened carefully to the conversation. He offered the following advice. "The plan involving Anord and the cleric sounds useful. I am sure that Anord would be willing to participate, especially if he knew that you four would defend him, wouldn't you Anord?"
The still shaking townsman nodded in the affirmative.
"And," Shepton continued, "he will have no trouble acting terrified, should Rander take the bait." It was obvious to all that Anord would be the perfect pawn.
"Now, you might be able to get affidavits from select villagers if they are approached discretely. Perhaps Lagus the Weaver, who discovered Maury's body, would be a good man to get on your side. But, be cautioned, if you try to get a town insurrection, even if you are justified, the Baron will take Rander's side. The law is the law, and Rander is the legal representative of the Baron. My hands are tied. In the end, you will have to take what you have to the Baron, and then he will make a final determination."
He thought for a moment. "Tell you what. Why don't you go talk to this clergy fellow, Dwyer is it?"
"O'Dwyer," Daltonne corrected.
"Ok, O'Dwyer, then, and see if he is willing to help. If so, bring him back here. Meanwhile I'll send Snags for Lagus. If we get all these parties here in my parlor, we may be well on our way." The mayor gave a smile of relief.
"Listen, Mayor, not to sound like an ungrateful house guest, but I'll take my leave with Daltonne to find this O'Dwyer bloke. I'm not really the type for sipping tea and playing charades while we wait. I'm an adventurer, a mercenary, a bounty hunter, if you will. I'm not a diplomat." Black Blade left with Daltonne, hoping for a skirmish of some sort to arise on her way. She, or perhaps Fear, was getting cranky without any real fighting.
"BTW, Daltonne," Black Blade whispered to her companion, "remember that guy who ran us off the road? I wonder if he had anything to do with this."
"I think I'll stay." Jessa smiled slightly, "I've been through my share of diplomatic situations in my life."
Serena thought for a moment. "Perhaps if we had O'Dywer's written statement to show them, they'd gain courage. And for what its worth, we could each sign O'Dywer's letter as further witnesses."
"I'd like to go speak with O'Dywer," Serena stated. "Perhaps we can appeal to his sense of justice and fairness. And if that is insufficient, we'll try glory. His faith would have the eye of the Baron; it could result in favorable court influence." Sighing she shrugged, "Failing that, I suppose we could try bribery, promising him payment from any recovered extorted funds." Serena followed Daltonne, prepared to try these ideas as necessary, but willing to concede to a better idea from her companions.
Daltonne agreed with Serena. To the mayor she said, "So is there an inn or church in this village where this cleric may be staying?"
Shepton answered, "I believe he is the gentleman who has been camped out down by the river?"
At this jogging of the memory, a collective `ah, yes, that guy who was there when we first got here' came from the four.
So, Serena, Daltonne and Black Blade walked down the hillside to where there was, indeed, and impromptu camp site, tent, tethered mount, fire pit, and a man, who looked familiar, sitting and watching their approach.
Black Blade said quietly, "That is the fellow who was on the barge when we crossed the river." eliciting another collective, `ah yes' memory.
As the three women got close, he rose. He stood about 5' 6", with brown hair and soft blue eyes. His pants were well weathered brown in color; his shirt of a coarse gray cloth. On a blanket lay a well kept chain vest adorned with a blue circle in which was a slanted gold `Z'. A sheathed sword lay next to it; a spear stood in the ground nearby. His eyes lit up and a broad smile crossed his mouth.
"Lassies!," he exclaimed, "I said we'd meet again. To what to I owe the honor of you glorrrious prrresence?"
The three women set about telling him much of what they knew, appealing to his sense of justice and fairness.
"Justice and fairrrnes is it. Aye, those arrre fine worrrds indeed. Perrrhaps that is why I fine myself summond herrre."
"Huh?" asked the three
"As I told you when we met on the barrrge back in Monpelone, I am a clerrric to Trrritherrron. He's also known by the name of `the Summonerrr. We who follow him go wherrre he seems to send us, Now perrrhaps this is why I've beeen sent herrre."
The women were quick to agree.
"And think of glory this might bring to you and your cause, " added Serena.
"Aye, glorrry," his blue eyes became wider, brighter.
"Just one thing, though. This RRRanderrr cad, now if I underrrstand yourrrr tale correctly, and please my apologies if I got it worng somehow, no doubt you told it corrrectly just I mught have mishearrrd you, but does he not represent the law herrre? Is he not the Barrron's legal rrrepresentative?"
"Er, yes."
"And then, if I werrre to help you thrrree beautiful women, I would be going against the law in some way?"
"Er, yes, but--"
"Then," he almost shouted, "I do it. We clerrrics of Trrritherrron like little less that the law. Nothing 'd like betterrr than to show up an official. Law? Phooey. Justice, aye, that is what is rrreally important. Now, tell me what it is, short of killing this guy, we do drraw the line somewherrre," he winked, "that you'd have me do."
Meanwhile back in Shepton's sitting room, Snags had returned with Lagus the Weaver. He wore basic, yet clean, clothes, well stitched, of reasonable cloth. He showed none of the fear that Anord had shown. He looked the Mayor in the eyes when speaking, asking why he had been summoned
Shepton got right to the point, telling him off the finding of what was probably Maury's body, and asking him about the meeting. He confirmed much of what Anord had said about the events of that night. "Rander was right surprised, he was, by all of us. Didn't know whether to cry or laugh. Just looked at us all there, and rode off, his two cohorts in tow. Gosh, we were happy. " At this point he paused for a smile. "Thought we'd done good, we did. Then the next morning when I found the mill sealed and Maury gone. Guess I should a known not to believe it. But what was I to do? After the way we stood up to him, what more could be done, or can be done for that matter?"
Jessa leaned forward in her chair. "Lagus, we are attempting to find out who may have murdered the miller. We strongly suspect Rander or someone working for him, but of course we have little proof other than that he had a strong motive to do so. Do you think Rander would have killed Maury?"
Lagus looked to Shepton.
"It is safe to speak your mind here, Lagus, this fine lady is here to help."
He then looked to Anord, who still seemed very agitated.
Lagus drew a deep breath. "I do not know that Rander did any harm to Maury, but I was surprised by his reaction that night. He did not threaten us at all. Now, mind you, we had him and his two thugs outnumbered, but I had expected him to at least say something. Maybe invoke the Baron's name. Not that I believe the Baron knows what is going on here."
He though for a bit. "It would not surprise me to learn that he had his two thugs kill Maury. Especially after he used Maury's disappearance to justify doubling his Private Defense Tax."
Shepton was caught short. "What did you say?"
Lagus said, "It's true. First he explained that he had closed the mill because Maury had not paid his tax, claimed he had run off. Then, after a week, he announced that tax would double because of all he had lost from the closing of the mill. We knew it was useless to resist."
The blonde elf nodded. "We know of course that the Baron will stand on Rander's side unless we have strong evidence that the tax collector did indeed have Maury murdered." She sighed, "Or if we can't find proof of that, perhaps we can find evidence that he was levying an unlawful tax for his own benefit. Would you be willing to testify against Rander, as witness of the confrontation that occurred the night before the miller was murdered. That is, if we get as far a trial."
Again, Lagus hesitated. "I might be willing to speak against him, but I won't be the only one. And, I certainly don't want that Damned Rander to know about it. Might end up like you're telling me Maury did. Can I help in some other way?"
Black Blade smirked, tapping the hilt of her sword. "Well, if it comes to killing the unjust, I have no qualms; however, I think we need Rander alive for the present. According to the mayor of Lowick, Rander respects the clergy more than he respects the townspeople. Maybe you should talk to the bastard, threaten him with eternal damnation if he continues with this 'protection tax', maybe it won't be necessary to kill him, even if he deserves it. In fact, if things get too complicated--wait. We're only getting fifty gold for this. I don't kill unless its over a hundred. But, if this guy gets on my nerves personally, I may do the entire countryside a favor." A big evil grin crossed her face.
O'Dwyer smiled at Black Blade's suggestion. "I, too, have no qualms about resisting the unjust. But, do you know how powerrrful this Rrrander is? I doo not, but I would have to wonder, if he is able to intimidate and entirrre village. Now, if you wish, I will go and talk with him, though from what you've told me, threatening him might brrring me face to face with Trithereon, a little sooner than I would wish. Can I be of serrrvice in a less confrontational way?"
"Do you think the Baron knows of this 'Private Defense Tax' at all?" Jessa asked Lagus and the mayor.
The elf turned to Mayor Shepton. "I am ignorant to the laws of this area. Is Rander breaking any laws by charging this protection fee? If so, is the crime bad enough, so that even the Baron can't ignore it?"
"That is an excellent question, young lady. IF the Baron knows not of this tax, then the evidence in Maury's diary, coupled with the words of some citizens, myself included., could be enough to get Rander. You may have come up with the brainstorm we needed!" Shepton was quite excited by this idea.
"Then there is the mysterious death of Maury the Miller. While the evidence is circumstantial, still this tax might just be suggestive enough." His enthusiasm was only slightly tempered by, "Of course, you will have to take this to the Baron in Narwell."
Again, Lagus hesitated. "I might be willing to speak against him, but I won't be the only one. And, I certainly don't want that Damned Rander to know about it. Might end up like you're telling me Maury did. Can I help in some other way?"
Jessa clenched her fist in frustration. "I don't know! Rander seems to have all his avenues covered," she sighed. "I suppose we'll just have to wait for the other three to come back with that cleric."
Shepton consoled Jessa with, "Not to worry, I am starting to have a good feeling about this affair."
Daltonne said, "Well, we was also thinin' of trying to trap Randar into incriminatin' hisself. We thought to set up Anord as the new miller and you as his, let's say new accountant. You can be present at any meetings and we will hide in the back room and be listenin' and ready in case of trouble. We are also tryin to git some of the townsfolk involved to back us up if and when we get to see the Baron. This here Randar is a powerful man and we figure we have to git all the proof we can agin him before we go to the Baron. The Baron holds the clergy in high regard so iffin you can coroberate what we find then we may have a better chance at gittin' this here Randar punished."
O'Dwyer smiled as he listened to Daltonne revealing the plan. "So, if I underrrstand what you have in mind, and I believe I do, you are prrroposing that I be the `worrrd' to enforrrce the law against this supposed law enforrrcerrr who is actually brrreaking the law?" His smile widened. "Wherrre do I sign up. The irrrony is delicious. "
Ten minutes later, with a very willing O`Dwyer in tow, Black Blade, Daltonne and Serena had made their way back to the Mayor's house where they were able to confer with Jessa, Shepton, Lagus, Anord [and the USC Trojan marching band, if necessary]
Serena looked around at the people assembled, "O'Dwyer, I'd like to introduce you to our co-conspirators." She smiled at her own humor, then turns and makes formal introductions. "Mr. O'Dwyer, do you have a religious title you would like us to use when we address you?" Serena asked.
O'Dwyer merely grinned, "No, no religious titles ferrr those who follow Trithereon. We believe we'rrre all the same underrr his cloth. And therrre's no need to addrrress me as Misterrr. O'Dwywerrr will do." There is a softness to his voice, and a total lack of ego.
"I've been thinking," Serena said, "and it seems to me that our elusive friend the scarecrow may have led us to the miller's corpse. Perhaps there is a way to enlist his aid in exposing this corrupt tax collector." Turning to the mayor Serena continued, "Was there a pattern to the fires? People and places associated with the miller's death?"
Shepton thought about it. "If there is a pattern, it is that the fires started away from the village proper, and gradually got closer. Also, at first the things that got torched were not that important. The first few, beginning about a month after Maury's disappearance, er, I mean death now don't I?, were tool sheds, chicken coops, and minor outbuildings. But the a cottage, and last night right here in the village. "
"Perhaps we should return the mill, perhaps spend a night or two there... If the scarecrow is a ghost with a grudge, like I suspect it is, it may try to communicate with us," Serena concluded.
O'Dwyer interjected, "That sounds like a night to rrrememberrr. I'd like to be a parrrt of that soirrree. Might be use forrr my symbol." He displays a blue circlet with a gold bolt in the shape of a `z' (sort of) on it. "I could make a turrrn forrr the best if need be."
"Could it be that Miller's ghost? The scarecrow, that is," she questioned. "Mayor, is it possible maybe the scarecrow didn't set the fires? Thinking about this, what if Rander or his cronies were the ones that set the fires, and the scarecrow was in fact a beacon or a warning about Rander? Just speculating." Black Blade shrugged, tapping her hilt.
"Of course, if I'm wrong...." Black Blade grinned.
Jessa simply listened to the comments of the rest of the group, hoping to get some insight.
Mayor Shepton said, "While you four, oh sorry O'Dwyer, five are deciding what to do about the mill, sleep in it or reopen it, I will get a list of names from Lagus and Anord here. Names of men who were at the mill that evening. Perhaps if they were approached quietly, they would be will to give avadavits to the questionable conduct of Rander." Looking at the two villagers, "I am certain that if Lagus and Anord were to make surreptitious, er, that means secretive Anord, visits to these men, we could get the paper work side of it out of the way. It would probably help if one or two off you went along for moral and muscular support. Then with whatever happens at the mill, we should have sufficient evidence for you to take to the Baron in Narwell." Mayor Shepton seemed more sure of himself than at any time since the women arrived here.
Black Blade was somewhat bored with all this diplomacy and mental thinking, but, hey, what the hell, she retorted by saying "I'll go to the mill and spend the night there. If there's any action going to take place, I'll probably be there, with the scarecrow. But if I go with O'Dwyer, I get to confront the extortionist, however, there isn't a big chance of fighting. Decisions, decisions. Ah, well, someone�s going to have to go to the mill. Might as well be me."
She turned to Jessa. "You want to go? I'll bring the cards if you bring the marshmallows."
"What do you think would happen if we did reopen the mill?" Jessa asked.
Jessa sighed. "I have no preference as to whether or not I go to mill. If no one else will go with Anord and Lagus, I'll join them."
"With Lagus and Anord obtaining the statements, we shall be free to continue our investigation of the scarecrow. We must keep in mind what the mayor has hired us to do, " Serena reminded her companions. Looking determined, Serena stood, "I suggest we prepare for a night or two in the old mill, gather up some foodstuffs and what not. I know that I have a few things within my room I'd not like to leave behind this time."
Daltonne agreed with Serena's idea. "I too thin we should go to the mill and see what happens. Iffin nothin' happens, then we ask the Mayor to use his power as mayor to reopen the mill with Anord as the new miller and O'Dywer as his 'helper'. Then we see iffin we git some reaction from our friend Randar."
"Hey, company!" Black Blade grinned. "All the more fun.
"Anyone got any card games?"
Jessa listened carefully to what the others decided. She asked O�Dwyer, �And where will you be going, good sir? To find a ghost or to intimidate reluctant witnesses?" Jessa half smiled.
O'Dwyer's soft eyes glimmered, "No you wouldn't have a ghost of a chance with me intimidating those witnesses. I think a night orrr two in a mill sounds morrre of a spirrritually uplifting experrrience. I suggest we millgoerrrs, Serrrena, Daltonne and Black Blade, gatherr whateverrr we need and slip over to this mill afterrr dusk. No sense in allerrrting whomeverrr, rrright?"
"Now let me think, what to wearrr on such an occaision? Oh, Black Blade," producing a deck of cards, "you do know how to play Whist? Well, if not, you can learrrn as we go?" A different type of smile, slightly mischievous, crossed his visage.
Jessa Wren turned to her guides. "Well, let us do as the good Mayor suggested and compile a list of all those who may testify against Rander. Perhaps we'll find the evidence we need to prove that he murdered the miller." She stood up and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Or if not, perhaps information on the subject of if Rander even was the perpetrator."
"Well I say let's git our gear together and head on over to the mill after dark. We kin wait upstairs in the office and iffin we hear somethin we kin hide in that there secret room. What say you, are we off at dusk?"
Serena stood. "Let make ready then. Daltonne, I would prefer to leave a little before dusk. I want to be inside the mill when the sun touches the horizon. I once read that that was when restless spirits were freed from their graves." Heading to her room, Serena gathered her few possessions and returned stroking her feline companion's short hair. Bidding those remaining behind good fortune, Serena readied her animals for the journey to the mill.
And so, slightly before dusk, Serena, Daltonne, O'Dwyer, and Black Blade headed over to the mill. They found the building much the way they had left it, the window through which they had entered and exited remained `open.' Back in they climbed, and proceeded to go up two levels to what had served as Maury's office. There they waited.
...... Meanwhile, Jessa, Anord, and Lagus set about making a list of villagers who had been about the last night Maury was seen alive, and who had a negative view on the Public Defense Tax. They planned on visiting at least some of these people in the morning.
------Midnight. A cool calmness came oveer those in the mill, as little had stirred. Only the erratic creaking of the mill wheel, by now not even a nuisance, had been heard. Then, gradually, the party sensed more than heard, that something was up, coming up, the stairs that is, something was coming up the stairs. It didn't `clump, clump,' like normal boots. A bit of a swishing sound, gentle footfalls, slight creaking, but yes, something was definitely coming up the stairs!
"Well O'Dwyer, I thin it's time to git that symbol of yurs ready. We may be having company and from the sound of 'im it may be our friendly neighborhood scarecrow. You ready Serena, Blade? I am." Daltonne readied her sword in one hand and a rope in the other.
O�Dwyer readied his symbol. Four sets of eyes peered out the door towards the stairs. The swishing got louder, louder, till ....., a rather hairy, unkempt figure, seemingly with straw for hair, old dungarees [the fore runner of our modern day jeans] with shoulder straps, straw for arms, straw for feet, made its way to floor level.
O'Dwyer moved boldly out to the straw thing. "In the name of Trrritherrreon the Summonerrr, I command you to cease and deist."
The straw thing continued forward, neither ceasing, not desisting.
Undaunted, O'Dwyer tried, "Evil get the hence!"
Either it wasn't evil, or it did not know where hence was?
O'Dwyer had time for, "Begone Bucko!"
Maybe its name wasn't Bucko?
O'Dwyer began to back slowly towards his party, "Er Houston, we have a problem."
The strawman still cometh.
Meanwhile, back in the ever dangerous parlor of Mayor Shepton, Jessa asked the two men, "Do you want to wait until tomorrow to visit these people or would you rather get it done and over with tonight?"
Lagus said, "The cover of darkness might serve us well. That way Rander might not get wind of our mission."
Anord said, "ye, yes, darkness. He won't see us." Anord kept one hand round his throat, as if trying to remove an invisible noose.
Heading down the hill, across the bridge, the three entered the village proper. Lagus noted, "Still a light in the Trading Post. Stump seldom turns in early." He led the way up the front steps of the Trading Post. The building appeared to be very large. The light coming through the window cast shadows on object apparently suspended within. Voices could be heard, shadows moved on the porch. A whiff of smoke caught the nostrils. "Tobacco. Gus must be there."
He led the way up the front steps of the Trading Post. There on the porch, sitting in the darkness were four figures. Lagos spoke, "Stump? Gus? Who else is here?"
"Course it's me, Stump. Who else would set on my porch, the scarecrow?" An uneasy laughter ran through the other.
"Gus is here. So is Clem and Toman."
"Good. Four of you here. Four who were there."
The unease continued, "Were where?" one of the voices asked unevenly, rising slightly.
Lagus paused, "Where are my manners? This fine young lady is Miss Jessa. Brought her along to speak with you. Now don't get all upset. Just hear what she has to say." The four men's heads appeared to turn in Jessa' direction. She could not make out their faces clearly in the shadows, but she could sense their unwavering attention.
"Can all of these men be trusted not to go tell everyone about this meeting?" the blonde elf asked Lagus.
Lagus answered, "I've known them my whole life. Do you think we'd have approached them is I feared them?"
Reassured, Jessa Wren cleared her throat and began. "We need your help. We are looking for people who have information about and/or will testify against Rander." Her steel gray gaze passed over the gathered men. "I don't know whether you've heard or not, but Maury the miller is dead. He was murdered, hung in the attic of the mill. We suspect Rander because Maury stood up to him."
"Maury's dead?" said one.
"Shouda known, �said another.
"Didn't think he'd be the type ta just run off," added the third.
A silence fell over the porch. Finally Lagus suggested going inside.
Moments latter the seven of them sat around the slowly burning lantern in the main room of the Trader's Post . Stump, Gus, Clem, and Toman sat deep in thought.
Jessa repeated the call for help.
Stump spoke for all four of them. "We're very sorry to hear about Maury. And we want Rander out of here much more than you do. But testify against him? Where, here in Lowick? Rander, as the Baron's representative would be his own judge and jury. How long do you think any of us would live? And with Maury known to be dead, our chances our slim and none. AND, no offense Missy, but we don't think you can stand up to Rander and his thugs."
The other three merely look at the floor, refusing to meet Jessa's eyes. ----------------
Meanwhile, back at the mill,
Serena began an incantation, attempting to charm the straw man. Hard to say what effect it might be having, since his face was simply a burlap bag with charcoal stains for eyes, but she continues. "Maury? Maury Miller? Is that you?" Serena asked.
At this point the scarecrow stopped in its tracks.
To her companions Serena muttered, "I do not believe spirits shuffle."
Turning back to the now still strawman, she asked, "Who are you? I'll see that no one hurts you. Just stop there and lets talk."
"That's it!" Black Blade's hand went to the hilt and draws it half-way. "Either you stop right there, bastard, or face your worst Fear!"
She smirked somewhat at Daltonne, whispering, "Corny, or what? And remember my warning!"
Serena raised her hands to show she is unarmed. To the others she pleaded, "Hold your swords till we know he means us harm!"
At this point the scarecrow, straw, clothes, fell limply to the ground, leaving a `nebulous presence' standing before them. Transparent, wispy, five plus feet tall, wavy.
Taking the opportunity to use her heightened senses bestowed from her familiar, Serena smelled the air, trying to determine if the creature before them is a dirty, sweaty human in disguise. Chisim, her cat, crouched at her feet. The smell she got was one of damp mold.
O'Dwyer said, "Way ta go, Lass, you've scarrred it right out of its skin!" He put away his holy symbol, moved off to the side, his hand now lightly clutching a spear, which still faced the floor.
Daltonne waited. She wondered if this was Maury's spirit. --------------------
In the Trading Post:
"If the charge is against Rander wouldn't this have to go to the Baron himself, because, as you said, he IS the Baron's representative?" Jessa asked. "Surely the Baron would be just."
At the mention the title `Baron', all eyes become riveted on Jessa, smiles began to cross their faces.
"The Baron?" asked Stump.
"You'll take our case before the Baron?" explored Gus.
Jessa nodded in the affirmative.
"Well, that makes a heap o' difference," said Clem.
"I'll say," agreed Toman.
Lagus confirmed, "That is correct. This fine young woman, and her friends, intend to take your word to the Baron in Narwell. Now all you'll have to do is sign your names to a document, confirming the existence of the Public Defense Tax. Assuming, as we suspect, that the Baron knows nothing of this tax, well, we'll have old Rander..."
"Yes we will," added Stump.
And so, by the lantern light, the men dictated their recollections of the PDT, how much they had paid, the meeting night, and how Rander raised the tax after Maury's `disappearance.'
BY midnight, Jessa had four separate documents ready for witnessing and signing.
"Thank you gentlemen." Jessa smiled. "With Alaya's blessing and a little bit of luck these should have Rander getting his just desserts very soon." She talked to the townsmen for a little longer and then turns to Lagus. "Shouldn't we get back to Mayor Shepton soon and show him these papers?"
Lagus said softly. "Yes, we should. "
Clem said, "Let us step out first. Just in case." He rose slowly, joined by Toman and Gus. They made their way out the door, shutting it behind them. Stump covered the lamp with its hood. Then he peered out the window.
Finally he straightened up and announced, "They didn't notice anything. Guess no one else is about. You three can go. "
Jessa, Lagus, and Anord made their way across the darkened road, bridge, a up the knoll to the Mayor's house. There, a lantern shone as they neared the porch. Shepton himself was still about. He seemed very calm. "No one's been about. Doubt anyone's awake besides us. Come inside."
He led them in to the parlor, where warm tea and fresh biscuits were waiting.
"SO, how did we do?" he asked hopefully.
Jessa smiled. "We got statements from four of the men who were there when Maury stood up to Randar. Also they attest to the fact that the Tax did increase dramatically when the mill closed."
Lagus nodded in agreement. "Yes, four of the town's folk have signed documents."
Shepton was elated. "Now, if only your friends at the mill have similar good fortune. Well, not much more can be accomplished this night. Let us to bed. Good morrow to you both. Lagus, Anord." With this dismissal, the two men left the mayor's house. Shepton saw Jessa to her room, thanked her for her good work, and then retired to his own. ---------
Black Blade, as usual, quick to react, kept Fear half-drawn, wary. She was not exactly comfortable with the undead. "Who are you, spirit?" She shouted. "And what is the reason you are restless?"
Serena stared wide-eyed, momentarily caught by surprise at the unexpected turn of events. "I...," she began, pulling nervously at the lapel of her robe. "Can you speak, spirit?" she finally managed to say.
The `spirit' appeared to try to speak, but was unable. Instead, it took bits of straw from its discarded body. Slowly breaking pieces, forming into
...... Maury.......
in straw on the floor.
Desperately Serena thought back to her days as an apprentice and her studies of spellcraft. Could this be a magical construct? Sure that it was not, and since she wasn't immediately attacked, Serena cautiously asked the shape before her, "Maury? What keeps thy sad spirit from its rest?"
Again, more straw was used to spell
...... justice......
O`Dwyer said softly. "I have neverrr actually seen one beforrre, but I would guess it be Maurrry's rrrestless spirit, unable to find comforrrt, till justice in his murrrder has been serrrved. I have heard the spirits come in many forrrms, this being one of the weakest. Therrre's nothing it can do dirrrectly against anyone. It must get otherrrs to act for it. I doubt we have anything to fearrr frrrom you, do we?"
The straw was soon moved to spell out
.....no......
Serena sat quietly for a moment, still shaken by the apparition before them. "Did Rander kill you?" she asked outright, finding no way to put it politely. She then asked several other questions, each time awaiting his written reply.
The spirit formed a `yes'
"Would his death satisfy Justice?"
`maybe'
"Who started the fires?"
`me'
"Does mayor Shepton sanction the public defense tax?"
`no'
"Are you aware of our efforts to expose Rander?"
`yes'
"Can you name any of Rader�s co-conspirators?"
`his goons'
"Do you know of any spies that might seek to thwart our efforts?"
`his goons'
At this point the being flopped down. "Looks like you've worrrn out his spirrrit," said O'Dwyer, with a wink of his eye. "This is all well and fine, Serrrena, but I doubt he'll make much of a witness."
Black Blade relaxed. "If our friend wants justice," she smiles evilly. "Then justice is what he'll get. Avenger is my middle name." She patted Fear's hilt and stared at the fallen specter.
"Although," she smirked somewhat sardonically, "I've never avenged the dead before. First time for everything. I say we find the bastard Rander and give Maury some peace."
"Well that confirms our suspicions," Serena said, standing. "Though its not going to help us prove them." She grimaced. "I wish I had thought to ask him to stop lighting the fires. Well, hopefully he'll stop now that he knows we're after Rander."
Bending over she picked up her Siamese cat and stroked its fur gently. Looking around the room she sighed. "I suppose we should find some sleeping arrangements. I'd like to get an early start back to town in the morning."
Daltonne looked around and said "Well, I don't thin Rander or his men will be a comin' tonight. Let's set a guard and git some rest 'til morning and then we can figure out what to do. I don't expect Rander will be by here unless he has a reason so maybe Mayor Shepton will have to go with our plan of reopening the place. Or else maybe Serena here could pretend that she openin-up a shop somewhere in town and see iffin Rander comes a callin' on a 'poor defenseless woman and her associate O'Dywer' trying to git the Tax outta her. We may git Randar to show himself quicker iffin he sees Serena here. Jus thnnin out loud."
O'Dwyer said, "Well, what everrr we decide to do, let's do it in the morrrning. I'm bushed." With that, he made a makeshift bed of sorts from the odds and ends about, including the straw, and sacked out in the main area near the top of the stairs. You ladies take the bedroom. Don't think anything will get by me. And, I assume you'll come a rrruning if you hearrr me scrrreams?"
Assured that they would, the three women headed inside, though they did leave the door ajar.
Morning found little changed.
O'Dwyer reported, "Hearrrd little durrring the night, though ourrr spirrrrit frrriend left shortly beforrre dawn. He left me his strrraw. Guess he's afrrraid of the light," the cleric smiled.
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