Mary Reed - Five for Silver

“Oh, she’ll keep me in line, don’t you worry about that,” Thomas remarked as Peter bustled forward to announce the wedding feast was waiting.

“And what culinary delights have you concocted for us, Peter?” Anatolius asked the elderly servant.

“The master felt it would be inappropriate to offer anything too lavish given the circumstances, but since he agreed a small repast would be suitable to mark this joyous occasion, Hypatia and I have baked honey cakes and there is also roast fowl with a special sauce I invented this very day, and fruit, not to mention plenty of the master’s best wine, and I don’t mean the Egyptian vintage either,” Peter replied in a rush of words.

“Excellent!” Thomas grinned. “Shall we go and sample this excellent wine, Anatolius?”

The party made its way back indoors and went noisily upstairs.

Last to cross the atrium, Peter and John had just arrived at the foot of the stairway when there came a loud rap at the house door.

Peter opened it warily and stepped quickly back, away from a shape swathed in a dark cloak.

“It’s the demon I saw in the alleyway just before I fell ill!” he cried in panic. “Don’t allow it in the house, master, it’ll bring the pestilence!”

The shape let out a croaking laugh. “Not so! I merely saved you from a thief and your own hallucinations, Peter.”

It was Ahaseurus, the holy fool, still dressed in rags yet now festooned with gold necklaces and sporting gem-encrusted rings on every finger.

“What sort of greeting is this, Lord Chamberlain?” the nocturnal visitor went on severely. “No matter. I am here because you saved my life and I always pay my debt. However, while there are rich pickings to be had in every alley in the city right now and I’ve certainly gathered my share, to settle this particular debt I had to travel a very long way, so I’m arriving somewhat later than I’d anticipated.”

Before John could reply, a brief gust of wind swirled into the atrium. Torches guttered, sending dark shapes spinning around its walls.

When the shadows stopped dancing, the fool was gone.

Another figure had appeared from the blackness beyond the doorstep.

A woman holding a pomegranate.

“Cornelia!” John’s voice cracked.

She must be a hallucination, he thought, a sign he had been stricken with the plague.

Strangely, the thought made him thankful.

Or might she be a shade?

Without hesitation she stepped forward into the torchlight, into his embrace.