Stories of Adelwreth

Old Wounds

These mornings were beautiful.

Cadman lay flat on his back, watching the clouds pass overhead. They had been in Adelwreth for two days now. Bleuamar, Gilli and the doctor were involved in another investigation. Someone had been attacked during the night by what the group theorised was a rat-like creature. Harold was drinking somewhere—the man was always drinking. He was the thorn in Mr Thule’s side. He did one good deed and now spent all his time and money on liquor. 

Cadman had learned that Harold was a military man, dishonourably discharged from the Cavalry Corps, and heir to the fortunes of the Flashman Estate up in Denewreth. Notwithstanding Harold’s flaws, Cadman owed him his life. He and Miranda had been at the Harbour Midnight Fair that one night. They had a wonderful time seeing the circus, engaging in silly sports and eating exotic fruits that they bought from the stalls. Everything was going well until the trip back to the hotel.

“Caddy,” she said, “I think there is something I need to tell you.” He remembered her shyness that night so clearly. “I think I… I think I am…” She stopped abruptly, cocking her head to one side. “I think there are people that are going to try and mug us.” Men jumped from the sides of the road. One of them—a man with a shrill, shrieking laugh, shoved a rapier through Cadman’s stomach. They left him there, in the dead of night, alone in the darkness. As fate would have it though, Harold was drunk at the time—and drunk in Third Street, of all places.

The first thing Cadman could recollect was lying on a table in the doctor’s quarters, being stitched up. Harold had brought the constable and was waiting outside to see if Cadman had made it.

“How will I ever repay that man?” thought Cadman. Sure Mr Thule has taken him in, made him a member, but what was Cadman to do? He looked back up at the clouds, playing his game. A thundercloud built up in the distance and was being blown across the sky—for a moment it resembled a horse. 

“Well, the fur beneath her fingernails definitely points towards it,” he heard the doctor say.

“Aye, and the wee lass had an awful stench about her too,” grumbled Gilli’s voice.

Cadman imagined them all stopping abruptly and looking at Gilli with confusion.

Bleuamar called Cadman and stepped into the carriage.

“Oi!” Cadman sat up and looked on as the trio piled into his carriage. “We’ ‘o?”

“Market Square, my good man,” called the doctor.

“Oi!” replied Cadman in acknowledgement and whispered Mary and Geneveve into motion.

He took them down past Peasants’ Way, from the morgue to the square—a total of five blocks, then stopped beside the road and waited. The trio climbed out, debating among themselves whether it was indeed a rat-like creature—one of Maynard’s lost abominations, or just a large new species of carnivorous beasts that attacked the girl.

“Don’t wait up Caddy, we’ll make our own way back to Thule,” said Bleuamar.

“We have some huntin’ to do,” grumbled Gilli with excitement.

“Oi!” replied Cadman. An entire afternoon free.

***

Yells and laughter! Pints were lifted into the air and ditties were sung. Choruses of liquor-filled men drowned out any semblance of sophisticated society outside. Lütz Tavern was lively.

Cadman danced with Hozjunuh on a table, stomping their feet to the beat of one of the ditties. Men applauded and the tavern roared with laughter when this particular one ended. The two smashed their pints and downed the rest. Cadman—almost blacking out—fell over backwards, onto a man who hadn’t been sober in years.

A bar fight broke out and when enough bruises and broken bones were dished out, everyone sat down, laughed, drank and conversed. Cadman shook the hand of the man and apologised.

“And what’s, uh, your name, sir?” asked the man as he sat down.

“Ca’ma’ a’ your’,” replied Cadman.

The man blinked and stared at him as if he had spoken some foreign language. Cadman was used to that, but in the tavern, most people didn’t remember much the following day.

“Y’know, uh,” said the man and took a swig of his pint. “You remind me of a young boy I once knew, well uh, I knew his father,” and he mumbled something under his breath.

“Anyway,” he continued. “This boy was also good with horses, uh,” he sipped at his pint and nodded knowingly at Cadman. “Yeah, I’ve seen, uh, you with them two mares, never seen you use a whip, uh, anyhow, this boy loved horses. Uh, he wasn’t any good with horses, but he loved them.” Cadman frowned. How could a person be good with horses and not be good with horses at the same time?

“He would ride them and play with them, uh, heard he joined up with the cavalry when he grew up. Name is John, by the by,” the man said, gesturing to himself. “Uh, anyhow, so this boy goes off on patrols and parades and them fancy escorting missions of the important people, uh, y’know like what we have when some prince or duke or something comes to town. He was really at home in the cavalry.” He finished his drink and signalled the bartender for another. “That is till the day one of those fancy dukes or princes or whatnot commanded him to give him his horse,” he continued. “Uh, and uh,” his face turned sad. “On return, the horse wasn’t the same, neither was Harold.”

Harold! Was this the same Harold that Cadman knew?

“He beat the duke to within an inch of his life, heard he spends his time like me now.” John chuckled. “Ah, I wouldn’t uh, recognise him now if I laid eyes on him, drinking his self into oblivion,” John chuckled.

***

“Your tea, sir,” said the butler, handing Mr Thule his tea. They stood by the side of the lunging ring.

“Thank you,” said Mr Thule, taking his pipe out of his mouth. It had been quite a feat convincing Harold to trust him. Cadman had trouble finding the man in the first place and spent days arguing and debating regarding the situation.

“Marvelous beast that,” remarked the butler before turning to go back to the mansion.

“Indeed it is,” replied Mr Thule, sipping his tea.

Harold kept Cassubaker on an open field on the Whinnox Estate. He had paid a pretty Adel or two to keep him safe and keep the deal quiet. The beast stood seventeen and a half hands tall and was violently erratic. Harold had Cassubaker brought up to the Thule Estate a few days before and had been sitting on the porch, keeping watch on Cadman and his horse with a hawk’s eye. Cadman had spent the last three weeks living in the pasture with Cassubaker. At first, the horse charged at him, tried trampling him—tried killing him. By the second week, it was as if Cadman didn’t exist to him and by the third, he allowed Cadman to approach him within a few metres. 

Cadman undid the rope and lay it out on the ground. Cassubaker snorted, threw his ears back and stomped on the rope. He then turned on Cadman. Cadman knew he had to stand his ground—show him he wasn’t afraid. He dodged a kick and then whacked Cassubaker across the hindquarter. Cassubaker snorted and this exchange lasted for a while. Eventually, it worked. Cassubaker understood that Cadman was here to stay.

He lifted the rope and flung it behind the horse. Cassubaker immediately panicked and ran around the lunging ring. Cadman waited a while and threw the rope out in front of the horse. Cassubaker turned away from Cadman and the rope, and ran in the opposite direction.

The back door of the mansion opened. Miranda, dressed in her boots and brown skirt, came briskly walking up to Mr Thule.

Cadman flung the rope again; Cassubaker turned away from him and the rope again. All the while Cadman spoke gently and kindly in his unintelligible accent. Cadman told the horse about what he had heard from John. Asked him if it was true. Told him about Mary, how he broke her in, how he loved riding Geneveve, and that Cassubaker and Geneveve might get along well after all of this.

Cassubaker turned towards Cadman. Immediately, Cadman stood still and a smile crept across his face. The horse was breathing heavily.

“Tha’s wha’ I ‘an’,” said Cadman, giving the horse the chance to think about what was going on.

“How are things going, Papa?” asked Miranda. Mr Thule placed his cup on the post in front of him and puffed his pipe, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

“I have absolutely no idea what your young man is doing.”

“Well, I’m sure he will fix Cassubaker,” she said, resting her chin on her arms. “He is good with this sort of thing.”

Cadman threw the rope out in front of the horse, Cassubaker turned towards him, and he let the horse rest for a while. The next time, Cassubaker turned away and was not rewarded with his rest. After a while, the horse understood Cadman and turned in each time.

Cadman turned around, took a sugar cube in his hand and held it behind his back.

“Well, what’s he doing now?” asked Mr Thule, holding his pipe to one side.

“Don’t ask me Papa. I was raised on books aimed at educating people to do maths and the likes,” she said, smiling. He squinted at her.

“And snuck off to taverns and got into fights with boys and men the likes. Good thing Alexander was always around.”

Harold stood up from his seat.

Cassubaker lifted a hoof and placed it forward. Another and another. Cadman smiled.

“Tha’s i’ boy,” he said softly.

Cassubaker walked up to Cadman and sniffed at the sugar cube. Harold gaped at the sight.

“Alexander was the one who snuck me out,” said Miranda absent-mindedly. Cassubaker took the sugar cube from Cadman and ate it. Cadman walked forward. Cassubaker followed. Cadman turned left. Cassubaker followed. Cadman turned right and Cassubaker followed. Finally, Cadman turned slowly, Cassubaker flinched slightly but stood his ground. 

“Tha’s i’, yo’ do’t ha’e ‘o fea’ a’ythi’ boy,” said Cadman calmly. He stretched out his hand slowly—palm open—for Cassubaker to smell, then gently rubbed the horse’s cheek.

“Tha’s enou’ fo’ t’day,” said Cadman and walked out of the ring.

The onlookers stood there, confused. None of them knew what was going on—none, except Harold. He knew that no one had had the privilege of earning Cassubaker’s trust for quite some time. 

A few more weeks of this and his debt would be repaid, thought Cadman. He walked up to Miranda, grabbed her hand and nodded to Mr Thule.

“Where shall we be off to, Mr Caddyman, hmm? Perhaps a walk in the meadow?” asked Miranda, then swiped away Cadman’s stench. “Perhaps you go take a bath first… good heavens, when last did you wash?”

Cadman smiled. Everything was as it should be now.

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