Chapter Text
*
Master Carolus Javier's Select College for the Sons of Gentlefolk
Warwick, England
1590
*
"Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis." He traced the sign with gloved fingers and snorted. What foolishness. It is as they said, then; well, so much the better. He pushed the door open, and made to step through the threshold.
"It is not a password, sir. I will not grant you entrance to the College simply for proving that you can read. You must convince me of your well intentions, and your standing, and your lack of ill-will towards my master." This, then, from a man oddly grappling with an overhead beam, more ape than human. The odd man-thing fell to the ground, large and threatening and entirely ungodly in his demeanour.
The stranger was not particularly cowed. "You must be Master McCoy, the beast-man, yes? I have heard of your impressive…" he waved a hand vaguely to indicate the man-thing. "Yes. Well. Is Master Carlos at home, or must I return to the storm outside?" He shook his hands free of his gloves and pushed his hood back, revealing a gentleman's collar and accoutrements.
The man-thing, it appeared, was as unimpressed with him as he was with it. "Wait here," he said, and swung back up into the rafters.
Of course, he had no such intention. His property was still outside, and liable to wander. He went to the door, and signalled as well as he could in the dim light for his manservant to bring it in out of the rain. By the time the man-thing returned, a sleep-tired Carlos Javier in his arms, it was safely stowed in a corner where it could not take it upon itself to slither, slink or otherwise move out of sight.
"What is the meaning of this? Who are you, sir? What are you doing in my home?" For a queer sort, Javier was as befuddled as any man raised from sleep mid-night, it appeared.
The stranger gestured to the corner, where his property wriggled on the ground with ill-formed squelching noises. "I have come to make a delivery to you, sir." He pulled a sealed note from his pocket and offered it, careful to not step too close to the hostile man-thing. One never knew when a beast such as that might become hungry.
Javier read the note over, his eyes widening in alarm. Honestly, was the man touched in the head, perhaps? Whatever was the matter? "Is there something amiss, sir," he enquired. "Were you not aware of this arrangement?"
The queer man stared at him for a long moment. "No," he said slowly. "No, I was not. Master McCoy -" this, to the man-thing, "would you be so good as to set me down in my chair and tend to - to our guests?"
"Guests?" The man-thing said, but his gaze had already wandered to the corner, where the bundle was wriggling with even greater ferocity. Honestly, you would think that they had not been beaten into docility on the journey! "Good heavens! Sir, you cannot mean to suggest that - are those children?!" He hurriedly placed Javier into a chair and loped to the corner, to undo the bundle's bindings.
"Of a sort," the stranger said. "I expect that they will be satisfactory?"
"Satisfactory?!" The man-thing repeated, low and dangerous, almost snarling. "You sell children, sir, and expect us to accommodate you?"
"Indeed I do," the stranger said, mildly surprised at this turn of events. "Do you mean to say that you do not wish to purchase them from me?" Here he turned his attention back to Javier, who had really gone a terrible shade of pale. That would never do; he could hardly have the man dropping dead on him before the bargain was sealed! "Sir, are you unwell? Is the merchandise deficient in some way? Should I fetch water?"
"I am quite well, thank you," Javier said. He pressed a hand to his lips. "Master McCoy, please see to our new… guests." The man-thing had liberated the devil-spawn by this point, and was checking their bound eyes and misshapen heads for lumps.
"Do not remove their blindfolds, Master McCoy," the stranger said sharply, when the man-thing's hands strayed dangerously near to the scrap of fabric. "One of them is afflicted with devil-eyes; they would burn you through with the heat of a thousand suns. The blindfold is necessary."
"And the brand?" The man-thing asked, quietly. His fingers traced the cross burned into the flesh of the nearest boy. "Was that necessary, also?"
"That was not my doing, sir," the stranger said, greatly affronted. "The injuries were from the mob I took them from; they would have drowned them. I ascertained their health, their names and their -" his voice shook "-humanity. They are neither eunuchs nor blind, and will do well for work - or for study, if that is your intention."
"Their names, sir?"
"Scotius Summerisle and Robert Trefusis, if you will. No remaining living relatives, no one to raise a fuss."
"How kind of you," Javier said, voice thick with something akin to malice.
The stranger stiffened even more at this latest affront. "As I found them, sir," he bit out. "As my agreement with our mutual acquaintance stands, I believe that the delivery of two healthy boys -" he could hardly bring himself to say the word -"is sufficient for a letter of dispensation regarding my recent need of a girl child?"
The man-thing blinked up at him from his task of unbinding the wriggling mess of skinny limbs. "Sir, what does he -"
"Take the boys to some rooms, please," Javier interrupted sharply. His expression had hardened considerably. The man-thing glared, but said nought else. He gathered the wriggling, mewing brats in his large arms and took them inside - to nurse or to spit, the stranger cared little at this juncture. He had journeyed far, and in the company of dangerous creatures indeed, to come here and be insulted to his face. No, indeed, all that concerned him was his payment.
"My letter," he prompted.
"Yes," Javier murmured, and tapped his teeth with a fingernail. "Yes, I see why you would need the girl."
The stranger could see no such thing, being as how he had not disclosed any details in person nor by letter. "She is necessary," he said instead, somewhat tightly. His hand reached for the hilt of his sword.
"That will not be necessary, sir," Javier said mildly. "And - you understand that she is human," this said with an odd expression on his face, "not to be treated as you have treated these boys?"
"I am aware that she is Blessed and not Witchbreed, as the creatures I brought you, yes -will you sign or no?" His hand did not stray from his belt, reassuringly near the sword-hilt. The stranger had decided that he did not like Master Carolus, not one whit. There is something unnatural in a man who would take in boys as afflicted as the ones he had brought him, and as the man-thing still hanging from some rafters inside the kitchens. For what purpose would this man concern himself with such works of the devil? He could not be afflicted so himself; the stranger was certain that he would not be held in such high esteem by the Council otherwise. It would be unthinkable.
Javier smiled, and the stranger was not comforted by it. "I have taken your merchandise - have I not? - of course." He signed, carefully and with considerable venom:
To whom it may concerne -
On this daye of our Lorde, the fifteenth of the sixth monthe, 1590.
Praye be advised that Carolus Javier, Master of the Select College for the Sons of Gentlefolk, has taken delivery of two male specimens, on behalfe of the Most Secret Council. This satisfies the debte owed, and all monies and reparations are now due to the bearer of this note of payment.
Sir Carolus Javier
The stranger took the note and scanned it. "It is brief," he said, disapproving.
"It will serve," Javier replied, his manner abruptly short and dismissive, as if he were dealing with a mere nuisance. The stranger was gravely affronted. "Now, sir, I have fulfilled my end of the bargain, and all debts due to me by the gentlefolk at the Council are hereby due to you in my place. Our business thus concluded, would you be so kind as to leave my land and never show your accursed face here again?"
"Ah. Of course. 'Tis acceptable to be thus when one has concluded business to one's infinite profit, is it not? Then I shall take my leave of you, sir," and he bowed deeply, his cape sweeping the floor in the motion. "I would have you remember me thus: the deal was for one life, Sir Carolus, as I buy but one with it. I did not drown the spare. I fed it, and watered it, and brought it here."
"I'm sure 'its' parents are infinitely grateful," Javier said, his face suffusing with anger.
"Its parents, sir, are the ones that gave it to the mob in the first place."
He could feel Javier's eyes dig into his back upon his departure. Blasted man. There was something mighty peculiar about him and his whole brood of supposed gentlefolk's sons. A pox on the place; he had what he needed.
He tucked the note into a pocket, and got back in the coach. They would have to make haste to reach London before sunrise.
*
London, England
*
"You cannot be seen, sir," the servant girl wrung her hands. "My master is indisposed. Sir! You cannot enter!"
He pushed her aside and opened the door, ducking under the low Tudor ceiling. Blasted old houses; it was not as if the Councilmen did not have the money to spare! "Master Lucas! A word with you, if I - good Lord!"
Master Lucas misstepped and would have fallen heavily, had not the girl he had been sparring with darted forward and caught him. "Sir Arthur! Good heavens, I did not expect to see you here! Elizabeth - Elizabeth, child, dress yourself!" The girl hastily curtseyed and ran off, presumably to change out of her scandalous man's clothing and into a becoming dress. Daniel Lucas wiped at his brow with the cloth that the servant girl proffered and huffed his breath back. "You must excuse her, sir, she is Blessed and in training."
Ah. "That is certainly an agreeable state," Sir Arthur allowed. "I apologise for intruding upon your training in such an abrupt manner, but I am in something of a hurry."
"Ah, yes. Sit - sit. Mary, be a good girl and fetch some wine and bread for our visitor. Jump to it, girl, you act as if you've never seen a highborn man before! - you must excuse her," he said apologetically, folding his creaking joints gracelessly into a chair pushed to the side of the room, "she is still new."
"Of course." Sir Arthur tugged a chair around so that he could sit comfortably facing the old man. It was growing damnably late, and he had been riding all the night before. He did not like this area; as a matter of fact, he disliked the City of London in general, and would have much rather conduct this interview in his estate. The damnable Councilman, however, would not leave the safety of crowded spaces, and would insist on treating him as an equal, to boot. An equal! Imagine it. "Allow me to come to the heart of the matter, Master Lucas. I have a missive for you from Master Carolus Javier."
"Oh?" Daniel raised an eyebrow and drew deeply from the flagon of wine his serving-girl offered him. "And how is my old friend, Carlos?"
"Well enough, when I saw him last." Sir Arthur accepted a goblet of wine and sipped at it. He tugged at his right boot, and eventually took from it a piece of parchment much the worse for wear.
"Were you waylaid by bandits, Sir Arthur?" Daniel asked, smiling, as he accepted the letter. "It is all terribly exciting."
"Yes," Sir Arthur drawled. "Yes, we had some trouble with the East India Trading Company."
Daniel glanced up at him in alarm and huffed from the flagon of wine. "Good Lord! They have not followed you here, I hope?"
"No, that problem has been taken care of. I would not jeopardise your girls, Master Lucas, you can depend on it."
"I suppose I must, it would appear." With another affronted huff, Daniel skimmed over the epistle. He traced the seal and, when he could find no lack, he crumpled it back into a folded mess and tucked it away about his person. "I see that I am now indebted to you, Sir Arthur. Have you come here merely to inform me of this, or to exact payment?"
Sir Arthur sipped at his wine again, thoughtfully, before finally answering. "The latter. I have urgent business that required this transfer of obligation, and I am eager to recoup my investment. I believe I have met the going rate, and perhaps more? - two Witchbreed boys, in exchange for one Blessed girl."
"Ah," Daniel said, nodding.
The serving-girl returned, this time with bread and cold meats, and hurriedly restored the room to some semblance of order. It would be their sitting room, Sir Arthur saw at last - fit for perhaps a dozen people, snug and cosy - perhaps one or two more, if they were of a lower status and would stand. When all the furniture was pushed to the edges of the room, there was space enough for fencing and the other manly arts, to be sure, but he still could not understand why Daniel insisted on remaining in the City when there was plenty of space to be had in the Home Counties. An estate could be entirely devoted to this training - although, perhaps that was the essence of the problem itself. An estate full of young girls and a few old men could scarce help but draw attention from the wrong quarters. It would be much easier to remain unnoticed for one such old man, and a serving-girl or three. And if the girls should be a touch peculiar - well, who was not, in the City?
"And might one inquire as to the purpose of this exchange, Sir Arthur? It is no mean thing, to part with a Blessed girl."
It was impudent, to be sure, but Sir Arthur could see the Councilman's point - the child was a precious commodity, and he would not part with her if she were to simply satisfy a perversion or expediency. It was a noble thought; Sir Arthur could respect it. "I have been approached by Sir Walter Raleigh," he said at last. "His venture in the new Roanoke colony is not yet sunk, and he has hopes for it still. Yet in the last year there have been - rumours, one might say - of troubles plaguing the settlers."
"Yes," Daniel mused, "yes, I have heard these tales. Massacres, and the like."
"Indeed. They thought it was barbarians, at first, and the colonists retreated. But the last ships to reach Roanoke with fresh colonists were expecting to find fifteen men camped there, keeping the fires burning, as it were. Instead, the fires were out, and the men were gone. Or, that is what they thought, until they found them, barricaded in a cellar, the bones picked clean."
"Good heavens!" Daniel plucked a kerchief from his person and pressed it to his mouth. "Clean, you say. Then, it must have been wild creatures eating the flesh."
"Yes, that was the first thought. Later study, however, revealed that the journals kept by the men spoke of creatures walking the night; unnatural, man-like creatures, with faces who changed. One in particular was spoken of, who came from the South - they believed it to not be native to the New World, but to have been brought across by the Spanish to St Augustine. They called that one the Master, and feared it greatly. The discovery of these writings caused great panic and outcry amongst the new settlers, you can be certain. They hastily erected a church, and have been sleeping within its confines, taking turns to guard the doors each night. They have sent word to England, asking for assistance."
"And what do you propose to do, Sir Arthur?"
"They have not been attacked as yet. It is possible that this Master and his unnatural followers have passed the Roanoke, and travelled up the Chesapeake, to sample the blood of the savages there. It is possible that the threat has passed."
"Yes," Daniel said, smiling a little. "It is possible."
Sir Arthur looked at him sharply. "It is, however, unlikely. I have promised Sir Walter a form of insurance for the colony."
"Insurance," Daniel repeated, and the colour drained from his face. "Sir, I believe that there has been some misunderstanding here. Surely you do not mean one of the girls -"
"But I do, Master Lucas. I will invest in such a girl, to protect the investment I have already made."
The Councilman coughed into his kerchief. "Sir Arthur, there is no possible way - that is, it is not feasible for such a girl -"
"They come into their own at their tides, yes?" Sir Arthur interrupted.
Daniel wrung his hands. "It varies from girl to girl. Most do, but some do not; some have come into their own well into their childbearing years. A few have been Chosen when scarcely eight summers have passed."
"As I thought," Sir Arthur said with satisfaction. "That is why I chose you, Master Lucas. You have possession of the youngest girl in Council custody, do you not? There will be the greatest time for her to come into her own; perhaps even before the voyage commences."
The Councilman crossed himself. "Do not speak so, Sir Arthur; to wish the current Slayer harm is unholy in the extreme!"
With some impatience, Sir Arthur waved a hand as if to dismiss his earlier words. "Forgive me. I spoke without thinking. But it is true, is it not? There are legions of these girls running about England, yet yours is the youngest in the Council's possession. Yours has the greatest chance of being Chosen before she is too old."
"I -" Daniel said, and paled a little. "I -" He pressed his kerchief back to his face, as if collecting himself. "I cannot," he said at last; a pitiful, mewling sound. "Sir, do not ask it of me. It is an obscene suggestion to trade such precious girls, as if they are mere commodities."
"She is a commodity, Master Lucas," Sir Arthur said. "I have purchased her life for two Witchbreed boys. She is mine."
"She is not!" Daniel exclaimed, and gained a hold of himself with some visible effort. He swallowed, and tried a different tack. "Sir, I beg you, have mercy. I cannot part with her. She - she is my livelihood!"
"She is no such thing," Sir Arthur replied sharply. "The Council will continue to pay you an allowance for her upkeep, and for your other girls, too. You will not go hungry for the loss of a Councilman's pittance, Master Lucas," this, with considerable scorn. The Councilman was a truly odious creature! "And would you really rather have me as your enemy in such a dishonourable manner?" His hand rested, quite comfortably, near his sword hilt. It was more of a symbolic gesture than a true one; for he could no more attack a Councilman in his own home than he could assault one of the girls in the Council headquarters itself. Yet it served a purpose: whatever the Council said to curious parties, the girls could be nothing other than Witchbreed. If it served them to name them Blessed by provenance, that was all to the good of the Church, but Sir Arthur was not well fond of such papist imaginings. England was, after all, a Protestant, pragmatic country that did not suffer such abominations lightly. The Council, despite its wealth, existed on sufferance.
Daniel stared at him, his face an unhealthy, pallid hue. He was silent for a very long time. "Mary," he whispered at last, "bring Lucille to me, there's a good girl."
The serving girl curtseyed and scurried out.
Sir Arthur regarded his gloves with some interest for a few minutes.
Finally, as if she could delay no longer, the serving girl returned, pulling a small girl-child with her. The scrawny little thing stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes.
"If it please you, sir," Mary offered in a halting voice, "her name is Lucille. She is of French origin, and has but three summers."
"That will be sufficient. Girl, attend me." The girl did not move, only shrank more behind Mary's skirts. With some effort, he remembered that she was human, and he was to be gentle, yet. "Do not be afraid, little one," he said with some softness in his voice. "You are going to be a great warrior, like Joan d'Arc, yes?"
The girl stared at him, uncomprehending.
He reached out and grabbed hold of her chin with some difficulty; the damnable child was already wriggling. He turned her so he could peer into her face. "Is she sound?" He demanded after a moment. "I will not have her be touched in the head after the trouble I have gone to in order to secure her!"
"She is frightened," the serving-girl exclaimed, then clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, forgive me, sir -"
"No, no' tis all right. Explain to her that she will not be harmed. Explain that she will be fed, and cared for, and trained - just like she would have been cared for here." He hesitated. "Explain, also, that she will be going on a voyage of some duration."
He left the maid murmuring in French and turned back to the wretched Councilman. "I will take her in the morning," he said dispassionately. "Have her ready to journey to my estate."
*
end part I