GiulianPlanOfCampaignGiulian Anderon sat at the desk in his study. Afternoon light came slantwise through the mullioned window behind him, gleaming gold on the burnished oak and illuminating the scattered papers in front of him. His dark head was bent as he wrote busily, one note after another, occasionally pausing to consult a notebook, bound journal, or stray scrap of paper. Only one of the notes he was methodically writing out received a formal wax seal with the imprint of his personal signet as Heir of Anderon. The rest were sealed each with a more plebeian and anonymous wafer before joining the stack at the corner of the desk. Giulian finished his task and sat for a little while, contemplating the stack of notes. Then he raised his head at the sound of carriage wheels. A few moments later Giulian's manservant, Peterson, appeared at the study door. "My lord, the hackney driver has arrived." "Thank you, Peterson. I'll come directly." Giulian reached for his crutches, tucked the sheaf of notes into his breast pocket, and followed Peterson out through the hall to the entrance to the south wing. On the carriageway outside stood a city hackney. Giulian made no move to enter the coach, however. Instead he signed to the driver, who climbed down from his perch. "Thank you for coming, Earl," said Giulian, drawing the notes from his pocket along with a small leather purse full of coins. He extended the notes and the purse to Earl. "You know where to deliver these. Be as quick as you can. And then ... just stay alert. You know what we talked about. No one will take much notice if you drive around that quarter of the city all evening. And you're someone she -- both of us can trust." The hackney driver touched his cap. "Right you are, me lord. You can count on me fer that." He pocketed the notes and coin, then added in a lower voice. "God willin', I'll bring her back to you, me lord." "God willing," Giulian echoed, "--and if it's what she wants. Remember that." Earl nodded and climbed back onto his seat. Giulian watched him as he drove away. Then he turned and went back into the house. He did not return to his study, however. Instead he slowly climbed the stairs to the upper floor of his suite and made his way to the bedroom. At the foot of the bed stood a carved prie-dieu; above it on the wall hung a crucifix and, below it, a framed picture of Saint Julian of Norwich, whom Giulian had taken as his patron at his confirmation. Propping his crutches against the foot-rail of the bed, he lowered himself to kneel before the sacred images. His dark eyes rested for a while on the saint and her gilded inscription: All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner thing shall be well. Praying that it would be so, Giulian bent his head over his clasped hands and began his long vigil. |
