The Stoneholding

jerkin behind his knees and seated himself across from Baldrick. He let his eyes wander over the sparsely furnished interior of the summerhouse and the thick darkness outside until he ventured a closer look at the man he faced. From the corner of his vision at first, he noted the man's balding neckless head fixed like a tattered bolster on massive shoulders. There was the smell too. He wrinkled his nose at the sour sweat-mingled stench of the wine that flushed the soldier's cruel snub features.

"So they've had some trouble at Tower Dinas?" Baldrick looked up at last from the scroll, regarding Frysan with small piggish eyes.

"Yes, serious trouble, Captain."

"The clay-brained fools, I warned them they'd need to post more men there. Although the plain truth is that it wouldn't make a jot of difference how many men you posted there so long as they insist on retaining that foppish thin-faced charlatan they've put in charge of the place. Why, I wouldn't trust the man to clean a latrine."

"You may rest easy on that point, Captain. After tonight the Mindal has seen fit to withdraw his commission." Frysan lied glibly. Better to make it seem like the Mindal was bowing to some of Baldrick's suggestions. It might make him more pliable when the question of evacuating the King and Queen was ...