As Foster, relieved of cloak, hat and sword by the servants, strode into the big room—hung with antique tapestries, old banners and weapons, and the trophies of ancient chases— Wolfgang raised his silver mug in greeting, roaring, “Ach, Bass, guten morgen.”
At the deep bellow, Duke Parian started, almost dropped his jack and groaned, audibly, carefully setting the chocoldt by to take his head in both trembling hands.
Taking his place in the cathedral-backed armchair, Foster first gave his desires to the waiting servitors, then turned to the Scottish guest. “You are unwell, my lord Parian?” he inquired solicitously, though suspecting crapulence.
The Scot’s answer was a piteous moan. Wolfgang chuckled, took a long pull at his punch, and said, “Ach, Bass, after you to your home left, test night, our good Duke Parian to outdrink me set himself. The third time he from out of his chair fell, I had summoned his men to bear him abovestairs.” He rumbled another gust of laughter, emptied his cup and began to spread the soft cheese onto another chunk of bread.
Not until he was full of fresh, warm milk and hot oaten porridge did the temporary master of Whyffler Hall accept a mug of mulled wine. He had never gotten accustomed to breakfasting on spirits and wished to keep his wits about him, especially since the invaluable Geoffrey Musgrave was gone to make his rounds of the demesne and consequently Foster would have to perform many of the steward’s hall duties himself, during the eight short hours before the serving of the day’s meal.
Invaluable and indispensable on campaign, Nugai had proved a well-intentioned nuisance to his master at Whyffler Hall. For the first few days he seldom left Foster’s side, day or night, and never withdrew farther than he could accurately throw a knife, taking his sleep on the floor before the door of the master bedroom. Most of the menservants of the hall staff were terrified of the strange, silent, bandy-legged man, who glared grimly and fingered the worn hilt of his big kindjal— long as a Scot’s dirk, but broader, single-edged and razor-sharp—whenever one of them approached Foster on any errand.
Finally, Foster had ordered him to remain in the trilevel, pointing out to the unprepossessing but highly intelligent little man that Krystal and the wet nurse needed protection from roaming soldiers and Scots of the Duke of Lennox’s train far more than did he, since most of his days were spent within the precincts of the Hall, surrounded at all times by servants, many of whom were old soldiers.
For two days, Krystal remained unimpressed by the Kha-zan or the arrangement; then a trio of drunken kilted gillies—the Scots camped in the outer bailey seemed to have brought along an inexhaustible supply of whiskey and stayed drunk most of the time—wandered by, spied the wet nurse and immediately decided to amuse themselves with a lighthearted gang rape. Nugai shot one, opened a second from crotch to brisket, then threw the dripping kindjal with such force that the blade sheared through vertebra and ribs, its point piercing clear through the unfortunate Scot’s breastbone. And all this occurred before Krystal, alerted by the nurse’s first scream, had time to hurry down to the den from the bedroom.
Thenceforth, the Marchioness of Velegrad found Sergeant Nugai much more acceptable. Too, she soon found, as had her husband, that the taciturn Kalmyk was multi-talented; he could cook, sew, do carpentry and intricate woodcarvings and brew evil-smelling and tasting herbal concoctions that worked medical wonders in alleviating or easing minor ailments of man or beast, and she was pleased by the alacrity with which the little nomad mastered the uses of the various items of plumbing and the electrical fixtures, appliances and gadgets. Soon she had turned over the kitchen and all cooking to her bodyguard.
On the morning of Duke Parian’s monumental hangover, Nugai waited until the wet nurse had removed her charge from his cradle and departed, then he padded up the stairs, down the hallway and into the bedroom, bearing the bedtray on which reposed KrystaTs breakfast—boiled eggs, cheese toast, and herb tea … enough tea for two, as he customarily sat, sipped, and chatted with his mistress as she breakfasted.