No game session this week due to seasonal illness rampaging our household, so instead I penned a little interlude for events that may have an impact in coming sessions....
Tack. Tack. Tack. The noise of the walking cane striking the hard, carpet-less floor of the mansion chambers reverberated around the practically empty space. He was moving with as much urgency as his elderly frame allowed.
"Mother!" he croaked. His reedy voice growing hoarse with his attempts to shout.
"Mother!" He looked this way and that trying to discern where she had gone.
Fletcher, the surly, middle aged footman he had always suspected of stealing the silver approached.
"You alrioght there, m'lud?" The footman said with had extended to offer aid.
"Geddoff you fool. It's my mother I need, not some theiving good-for-nothing, nark of a serf!" He waved him away with his cane for emphasis.
The servant allowed himself a wry smile, which he did nothing to hide from his lord "Tha Baroness is in 'er chambers m'ud, being attired by her hand maidens."
The noble muttered a barely audible series of curses and turned to slowly climb the well worn stairs.
"Mother! What is the meaning of this!" phelgm spat from his mouth as he burst unceremoniously into the matriarch's chambers. The occupants had heard him wheezing outside the door for about five minutes before his strength had returned enough to allow him to enter and so his attempts at dramatic effect fell completely flat.
The scene before him was of faded glory. The chambers were once gloriously ornate and splendid but they, like the rest of the barony had slid slowly into a state of tarnished antiquity. The damp and musty smell that perpetuated the entire mansion seemed to exaggerate the sense of faded glory in these rooms.
"Mother, answer me!" She hadn't even deigned to turn toward him. Her hand maidens, most of whom were approximately his contemporaries in age, were busying themselves in fastening her corset, preparing layer upon layer of garments and tying bows and ornaments in the enormous chignon of pale grey-white hair upon his mother's head.
The Baroness gestured slowly and two of the maids slowly turned the rotating platform upon which his mother stood until she was facing him.
"Yes....Basil?" The slow cadence of her speech and the high intonation at the end of his name ground into Sir Basil Abalone Justinian as it always did. Why wouldn't the old hag just die and let him come into his inheritance? His frustration helped him find his voice.
"Mother! What is this nonsense I hear from Manuel that you are conceding title on our estates?" His cheeks were flushing (if his phsyickian were here he would remind him of his blood's pressure).
"Well...child..." (she knew that annoyed him) "...You are my last....remaining....offspring." She stopped and gestured to a maid, in this case a young slip of a girl, who immediately brought her a goblet. She took it slowly but gracefully and sipped. Sipped again. And again. Returned the cup to the attendant, sighed heavily and resumed speaking. Sir Basil was almost purple and set to explode.
"...And...at your age , and without wife or.......issue, you are....no longer.... a viable...heir."
Her son paused, waiting to see if this was just another temporary halt in the dialogue but after a few moments impatience and rage got the better of him.
"But Mother! You are giving away my inheritance, and if the servant's tittle tattle is to be believed you are disposing of our fiefdom to another Noble House! It's preposterous! I shall bring in the Reeves to contest the legality of this, you are not in your right mind! You can't be! I will have you..."
It was a surprise to many when the Baroness still exerted her "voice of authority" considering her age and fragility but she was, when the mood or circumstances took her, more than able to gain the attention of those around her.
"BE SILENT! Do not consider me to be a winnowy waif that you can dismiss or disregard. I am your Mother, boy, and this is still my home and lands! For now at least." The exertion of the outburst had visibly drained her, but she continued.
"This is not something...I have taken lightly, nor....without...sound...expert...advice or...legal...redress. You have...your...own...stipend..and...those...investments you...seem to....think....you...can hide...from your own....Mother...If you have not...wasted...it all in...gambling and...game playing..you should be...set...for what few...remaining years the...Pancreator ...sees fit ...to bless...you with."
"But Mother...what of the lands? But what...but....Mummy??" The face of determination was shrinking away to that of a spoilt and inconsolable child
He took slow paces towards her. He knew she was made of a core of steel and that if it was decided he had lost.
She reached out her wrinkled hands to him and he sidled up to her and lay his head on her chest. She gingerly embraced him and patted his head.
"There...there....dear boy....Mother knows what's best."
No comments:
Post a Comment