Page 13 of The Trials of Alaric
The son of night reigns, as is meet.
But hark, young man, as time takes flight.
Beneath, a picture of delight.”
The son of night was the god of sleep—Somnos in Greek mythology or Morpheus in Roman. He couldn’t make head or tail of the rest of it. Unless… “Colyn, do the grounds have any sundials?”
“Yes, sir. Four. No, five, for there is one at the top of the southern watchtower.” Colyn explained where they could be found.
It had to be sundials.Or clocks. Clocks mark time as well.
“I suppose there are many clocks in the castle,” he said.
“That there are, Mr. Redhaven, to be sure. The one in the drawing room. The one in the great hall. Her ladyship has one in her private sitting room. There’s one in the kitchen, too, and in the butler’s pantry, so he can make certain the meals are on time.”
He was counting on his fingers as he stared into the middle distance, his eyes half-closed. “The earl has a clock in his study. Does the stable block count? The tower of the stable block has a clock.”
Alaric supposed he would have to work his way around them all, and hope he saw something that triggered another idea. He hoped he didn’t meet all the other contestants doing the same thing.
“This afternoon, sir, will be an archery contest,” Colyn told him. “Luncheon will be served at one o’clock, and the archery contest will be at two.”
So much for an immediate tour of the castle’s timepieces. Still, Alaric would surely be able to look at the clocks in the drawing room and the great hall on his way to the dining room, and he’d find a way to take a look at the stable clock and the sundials before sundown.
“Thank you, Colyn. Am I presentable?” He spread his hands and stood still for Colyn’s inspection.
The footman/valet brushed at some invisible dirt and mused out loud about whether Alaric’s cravat should be retied or even changed, but when Alaric said he wanted to investigate clocks for the treasure hunt, stopped his fussing and wished Alaric luck.
But neither of the clocks Alaric found gave him any bright ideas. Except that none of the other suitors gathered in the parlor next to the dining room were showing any interest in the clock. Was he the only one to think of time devices after reading the poem? Did that mean he was wrong?
Or was it possible they all had different clues? Alaric wouldn’t put that past Lord Claddach, though it would take a great deal of work. Not work he could give his secretary, either. Not if the young man had been permitted to enter the trials.
Beverley was monopolizing Lady Beatrice, ignoring everyone else who was in the group where she had been standing. Lady Beatrice kept trying to bring others into the conversation, but Beverley kept talking over them, addressing all his remarks to the lady of his choice, and ignoring everyone else. What a knob-head the man was.
Lady Claddach and Lady Lewiston strolled into the room together and almost immediately, the butler announced that luncheon was laid out in the dining room. “We will serve ourselves,” said Lady Claddach. “Delightfully informal. And you may sit anywhere for this meal. Beverley, will you take me in, dear?”
Beverley looked furious to be drawn away from Lady Beatrice, but he obeyed his aunt, however reluctantly. Alaric moved quickly across the room. “Lady Beatrice, may I have the honor of escorting you to the dining room?” he asked, offering his arm.
“Thank you, Mr. Redhaven,” said Lady Beatrice.
“Shall I escort you to a seat and fill you a plate, my lady?” Alaric asked, as they made their way through the double doors.“Or shall I hold a plate for you while you select what you prefer from the sideboards?” He’d noticed that no servants remained in the room, so his bright idea of co-opting a footman to carry a tray would not work.
Lady Beatrice shot him a look of startled appreciation. “The second,” she said. “Can you hold a plate for each of us, Mr. Redhaven? And I shall serve you and myself.”
Lord Lucas and Lady Eleanor had followed their example, Alaric noted, as Lady Beatrice filled their plates while he followed faithfully behind her. The other gentlemen had led their ladies to chairs at the table and were roaming the sumptuous selection of cold meats, salads, fruits, pastries, breads, and other delights, either balancing two plates or filling one with the intent of going back for another.
Alaric saw Lady Beatrice to a pair of chairs and assisted her to sit. “What will you have to drink, Lady Beatrice?”
She chose an ale, and Alaric collected a jug and two glasses and returned to find Beverley had taken the seat next to Lady Beatrice, having abandoned her mother, whom he had led into lunch and seated farther up the table.
Alaric put the jug and glasses before Lady Beatrice, smiled at her, located an unused chair and brought it over, squeezing in between Lady Beatrice and Miss Radcliffe, who obligingly moved her chair to make more room.
“I say,” Beverley said. “You cannot squeeze in like that.”
“Evidently,” Lady Beatrice noted, “Mr. Redhaven has squeezed in. So, I take it you meant to say he may not, rather than he cannot.”
Beverley glared at her. “His manners are outrageous,” he told the table at large. “No wonder he was sent home in disgrace from the British Embassy to Brazil.”
He sneered at Alaric, triumph in his eyes. “I remembered this morning where I had heard of you. Sent off to Brazil to make a career in the diplomatic service.”
