Tales of the Executioners

Chapter 10: Beldren What we Deserve, Part 2

Evening came. The sun dipped. The sky above glowed first red and orange, then pale purple that faded to deep navy blue. Matthias checked his pocket watch and announced that it was after nine. "Most god fearing widow women should be tucked in by such a time."

They climbed out of the ravine. Light glowed in the house's windows and dark shadows moved about the property like wraiths: slaves who were not yet bedded down.

"God fearing women tucked into bed," Duncan commented wryly.

"Their servants are finishing up the day," Matthias assured them. "Come, under cover of night we can draw closer."

"Close enough that they can crack our heads like walnuts?" Beldren muttered.

The long grass whispered as they moved closer to the mansion and the village of outbuildings. Matthias motioned them to a stop. They ducked down into the vegetation, like quail hiding from a hunter.

Beldren counted his heartbeats and fingered his musket. The sounds of the slaves died out as they retired for the night. Cicadas chirped. Somewhere an owl hooted.

Matthias poked his head up, frowned and dropped back down. "The slaves have gone to bed, but the lamps remain lit in the house."

Beldren shifted and scratched his ankle. Invisible bugs bit through his clothes, and a rock dug into his backside. He could feel the dew settling on his shoulders and legs. At this rate they'd be soaked.

It felt like an eternity before Duncan peered over the grass to mutter, "They are still awake."

Patrick flopped back and yawned. "Perhaps we should do as they refuse to and catch at least a moment's nap before our attack?"

"You napped all afternoon," Matthias replied. He rose to a crouch and squinted toward the house. "Mayhap they do not wake, but sleep fully illuminated?"

"Who would do such a thing?" Beldren asked incredulously. "To waste candles?"

"Waste is something the rich excel at," Patrick commented. "Why wouldn't they sleep with light? Three women with no man? Surely they would be fearful and frightened. Why not chase back the shadows? They have slaves to make their candles and tend to the flames."

"They have slaves to defend them," Beldren pointed out. "This is an ill omen."

"Ill? Because they light candles?" Duncan laughed. "You are like an old crone with your superstitions. Let us move closer and see if they have not retired for the evening."

The murmur of agreement rolled through them, like the wind in the grass, so that it was only Beldren who dissented. Something unsettling blew on the breeze and, the closer they drew, the more unnerving it became.

They reached the outer structures. The warm dry smell of tobacco tickled Beldren's nose. The familiarity did not quiet his fears. By the time they stood in the shadow of the house, the hair stood straight on the back of his neck.

Matthias pulled himself up and slithered inside a window. He straightened and tiptoed to the doorway, then returned and motioned the others inside. Duncan and Patrick followed quickly. Beldren hesitated. Black dread settled like lead in his stomach, though he could not pinpoint the source of his discomfort. As Matthias said, the slaves were gone to bed, and no doubt so had the women. The gold was ripe for the taking.

He made the sign of the cross then pulled himself into the window. The fear shifted to the back of his mind, and his uncle's training took over. Instinctively he added up the worth of the room's contents. Richly patterned rugs looked Turkish in origin, and the furnishings were upholstered in silk. White washed walls hung with gilt framed paintings. The subjects were beautiful women in dress that covered two hundred years of fashion. Carved furniture and a bird cage, inset with jewels, glinted in the light from two heavy gold candelabras. His eyes went wide as he mentally adjusted the total worth for colonial prices. When Matthias had called the sisters rich, he'd had no idea.

"Pssst. Beldren."

His head snapped up to see the others pressed close to the doorway. Matthias motioned him to join them.

The next room was as stuffed with money as the first, and as empty of life. The third room, furnished as a dining room, sported a wall of landscape paintings and a crystal chandelier. Beldren hadn't seen wealth like this sincesince her.

A soft sound came from the doorway and they turned back to see a woman. Her long red hair was gathered around her head in a nest of curls. A peach gown fell around her feet. The bodice, long and tight, left a bubble of cleavage to peek over the top. Jewels sparkled at her throat and on her fingers, but paled in comparison to her shining eyes and the beauty of her face; the curve of her nose, the shape of her lips, the fringe of her eyelashes.

Beldren's breath stuck in his throat and the woman smiled. Tight demure lips spread slowly to reveal pearly white teeth and sharp incisors, like those of a great cat.

"Who are you that would come uninvited into our den?" she asked, her voice like music.

Two women seemed to materialize behind her, a brunette in a purple gown, and a blonde wearing pale blue. They surveyed their guests and the blonde said sourly, "Their names do not matter, only their deaths."

At her words the spell was broken. Matthias drew his musket and Duncan and Patrick fell back. Beldren's mind, already in a frame of thought he had forgotten about, clicked quickly, and his mouth was moving before he was aware of the words.

"We beg pardon of you, dear madams. We are travelers who have run afoul of robbers on the road. In need of shelter we saw your lights, but when no answer came to our knock we let ourselves in, fearing that the ruffians had visited your plantation before they made such work of us."

He gave them a sweeping bow. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Beldren and these are my companions, such as they are. May I inquire to your own wellbeing? The unmolested state of your decor leads me to believe the rogues have not visited you in the night, but one must never make assumptions, especially when beautiful ladies are concerned."

The red head giggled and blushed. "Mark how he talks, sisters! A gentleman in this accursed wilderness."

The blonde marched toward him, her forehead wrinkled with disapproval. "No gentleman is this, but a rogue himself." She motioned to Matthias, "Lower your weapon, fool, it will serve you no good within these walls." She turned dark eyes on Beldren. "I can see your thoughts, knave, and know your plan. You thought to catch us unaware and take that which we have amassed. For your efforts you will gain only oblivion. Thomasin, Mabel, call the slaves and have these rogues taken to the pantry."

The brunette hurried away, but the redhead hesitated. "Must we? Can't we keep them as pets?"

"Go, Mabel!"

The redhead scampered off and the blonde turned back with a snarl. She lunged at Matthias. Duncan and Patrick scattered and Beldren fell back against the wall. "Please, fair lady, I assure you that-"

The gun went off with a roar. Beldren covered his ears, then looked through the smoke to see the blonde tackle Matthias to the floor. Blood darkened a patch on the back of her gown, but the injury didn't slow her down. She snapped in his face, revealing the same cat-like teeth as her sister. Without thought, Beldren grabbed her shoulders to wrench her loose. She snarled, and batted him away, with enough force to send him flying into the wall. His head bounced on the window ledge and the world disappeared in black.