A harsh glint of metal meets my eyes as I turn a dagger over in my hand, inspecting the blade for nicks, scratches, and grime. I sheath the blade and secure the weapon inside my boot. Peering up at my darling, fiancėe, Vera, as she touches up her hair in front of the vanity. I hide six more daggers around my body. The metal’s weight brings a familiar calm to my mind as I remember crafting each blade for this night and any subsequent events of a similar nature. I straighten and step towards my darling before saying, “You look immaculate tonight, love.”
Vera stands and candlelight dances across her golden hair. She moves forward and her blue gown glides over the wooden floor. Her hands raise and sign, “You truly think so?”
I swiftly move and stand in front of her, my footsteps light from over a year of training and experience. Grasping her chilly hand in my own, I say, “But of course, my beautiful Vera. The blue dress you wear flatters your golden hair, even though you look stunning in every attire.” I pause to brush my other hand against her cheek before continuing. “Each strand on your head looks elegant but natural. Your smile lights up the depths of my soul. If anyone thinks otherwise, that individual has less taste than the swine of the farm.”
Vera blushes and signs, “You are too kind.”
Wrapping my arms around her, I thank the heavens above for her humble, innocent nature. She blesses my life with her sparkling smile, beauty, and generosity. My time at war changed my life, but the constant stream of letters overflowing with kind and lovely words helped me as I went on assignments. I returned with damaged hearing but watched my fiancėe’s face glow with excitement making every action worth the mental and physical pain. Her smile brings me joy. Her love brings me peace. Her naivetė brings me bliss. What else could I ask for in a fiancėe?
Tapping my arm, Vera signs, “Should we not leave soon if we are to make it to your friend’s manor before sundown?”
I sigh and step away from my darling, readjusting the collar of my jacket before saying, “I do believe you are right, my love.”
We move to the door and I grab my wooden cane as we leave. I close the door and lock it with a silver key. Grasping Vera’s hand, I guide her to our humble carriage. I detest the thing, but transportation is transportation. Sir Capulon ‘gifted’ it to me as a spoil of war. I help Vera catch her footing and climb into the seat before moving to check the horses. After inspecting the leather straps that secure the creatures in place, I circle the carriage making certain the wheels are properly oiled and bear no cracks. While a short journey, a timely arrival is necessary when dealing with the Capulons and the rest of their company.
I walk back to the box seat and see the ratty floor and blood-caked cushions inside the carriage. Thankfully Vera loved the outdoors and preferred to sit in the box seat with me. It would be most difficult to explain how that happened or why I possess such an item. Hoisting myself onto the seat, I accept the reigns from dearest Vera and flick the leather straps to start our journey into the copper autumn world.
We ride in pleasant silence over dirt paths surrounded by endless fields of grass waving in the breeze and vultures swarming in the distance. I enjoy the winding roads and cool autumn breeze, as I brace myself for the night ahead, a final callback to the war. A celebration. A memorial. A mission. The grey sky foretells the plans of the night while the sun emits a strange red glow and sinks below a broken horizon of dense forests and crumbled stone. This night either ends my political connection or deepens their need for my services.
I jolt out of my thoughts when Vera leans on my shoulder and asks for the time. I reply, “Just a few more moments. It is just around this turn.”
The dirt roads change to cobbled paths closer to the mansion. We cross a small bridge over a creek before passing through rows of hedges and beds of snapdragons, begonias, and lavender. To our left, a broken well sits, waiting to be filled. Our carriage pulls into the main driveway, and I stop in front of the large oak doors. Stone walls welcome us to the main entrance and flickering candles illuminate the windows.
Vera holds out her silk blindfold, which serves no physical purpose but grants her mind ease, and I gently tie it around her head, making sure to avoid ruining her golden hair. I climb down and help Vera off. Her light blue gown and bright smile seem directly oppositional to my dark suit and the glinting knives tucked inside my outfit. How could one so happy and innocent love someone as misleading and destructive as me? I thank the heavens above that Vera will not understand what takes place tonight, should everything go according to plan.
I turn to my fiancėe and say, “Thank you for coming with me tonight, my love. Your willingness to meet my colleagues means a great amount to me. I hope you find that Mr. Douglas’ hosting skills and my other acquaintances present an excellent representation of my work.”
She smiles, “Robin, dear, you are my eyes and I, your ears. Why would I waste such an opportunity to see your friend’s home?” After that, Vera links our arms together. “Introduce me to them.”
“But of course.”
I guide her up the stairs and into the marbled foyer. The crystal chandelier glitters in the warm candles and dozens of plants with creeping vines line the walls and sit on tables. Turning to the left, we enter the main hosting room. People dressed in a variety of colors scatter the wide hall in little groups and a live string quartet plays in the corner. There are many tables along the walls with snacks, beverages, and other such pleasantries. Spotting the red uniform attire of my colleagues, Caleb and Elanor, I move over to them with Vera still attached to my arm.
“Monsieur Caleb, I would like you to meet my darling fiancėe, Vera. Dear, this is Caleb Monte and his wife Elanor.”
Vera smiles and extends her hand, saying, “It is a pleasure to meet you both. Robin wholly refuses to reveal details about his work. Naturally, I am curious. How did you all come to meet?”
As Caleb and Elanor tell my fiancėe how we met in the blacksmith when they placed an order of weapons for the war, I scan the room and see each unsuspecting noble laugh and mingle with the very people plotting against them. Michael and I make eye contact and he nods to a corner where Monsieur Taylor drinks from his glass. I return the nod and finish my scan of the room, noting the entrances, windows, and movable objects. Taking a deep breath to anchor my mind, I press my hand against the dagger attached to my waist. The dawn of a new era will begin soon, and the world is not prepared for what this group plans to change.
I notice Vera gesture towards me and turn my attention back to my darling, reading her lips, “What genre of books do you sell in your Braile collection? I consider myself a literature fanatic, when I have the proper books, of course.”
I move my arm to grab her hand and say, “Yes, my little Vera has quite the knack for reading. Darling, Monsieur Caleb’s store is the place where I get your specially printed books. Though I do sometimes wonder what it is in those books that captures your attention so well.” Leaning to kiss her cheek, I continue, “Now, Miss Elanor, would you introduce my fiancėe to Lady Rowena? I do believe the three of you ladies will get along splendidly.”
The group voices their agreement, and my fiancėe remains silent before tapping my arm to get my attention. Vera signs, “Are you sure? I would love to meet new acquaintances, yet to leave you is unfamiliar. Should we not be together before the dinner begins?”
“It is alright, my love. Elanor is a sweet young lady who I suspect understands our situation. Is that correct, Miss?”
Elanor nods. “Indeed it is. Vera, I agree with your fiancé. Lady Rowena will adore you. I can guide you to her.”
Vera nods, resolving to meet new people. “Very well. Robin, dearest, will we sit together at dinner?” she asks.
“I would dream of nothing else,” I say, unlocking my arm from hers. “Enjoy the night, my love.”
Walking away with Caleb, we start to mingle with the variety of guests. Many nobles with secrets darker than a black dahlia sip on crystal glasses of punch. They smile their ignorant little smiles, unaware of our host’s intentions. Every one of the guests is here for a purpose, some because of power or money, others because they hinder future plans. The Capulons designed this event to finish what we started during the war. Something illegal, perhaps. Definitely immoral. But above all, intentional. This night will go down in silent history, unknown to the citizens, but whispered in halls of stone. Life and death will unravel like loose threads from an old sweater, uncontrollable unless cut off from the whole.
We move to a familiar group of red-clad men by the windows overlooking Marilyn’s garden. Joining their circle and leaning against the wall, I greet them, saying, “Good evening, gentlemen. Delightful event, now, is it?”
The man on my right, Taylor Wilkins, nods and says, “Indeed. Your wife did a lovely job planning this, Michael.”
“Thank you, Monsieur Taylor. We all knew Marilyn had a knack for planning. But I did provide a few ideas of my own for dinner.” Michael responds while polishing his glasses on his maroon blazer.
We continue talking and Michael grabs my arm before laughing. During this moment, he slips a paper into my hand, and I pass him two of the many daggers on my person. He moves back and wipes a tear from his cheek before saying, “Robin, my friend, how is life treating you? Do you need anything?”
“No, I believe you have given me enough.” I have no desire to be further connected to this family, yet I suspect Vera will get attached enough for the both of us. One year ago, Michael gave me the carriage for helping him during the war. Quite an ironic present because it came from a noble he ordered me to assassinate.
“Very well, Caleb; Taylor, make sure you get what you need before dinner begins. Marilyn is quite picky about timeliness.” With that final word, Michael leaves the three of us alone.
I look around the room, making certain there are no wandering eyes, if any of these guests possess an inkling of suspicion about this event, our plans could fall apart. Seeing all the nobles engaged and distracted with conversations, Taylor moves closer and I pass him a dagger, which he hides under his coat. I sip from my glass and hand another two blades to Caleb. We talk for a few more minutes before separating to converse with the other invitees. I walk past vases filled with black dahlias, pink snapdragons, red begonias, and fragrant lavender. I see Vera talking to Rowena, Marilyn, and Elanor by the snack table.
Later, we move into the dining room. A long, black oak table sits in the middle of the room with twenty pleated chairs with armrests lining the sides. Floral arrangements, just like those in the hall, decorate the center. A large stained glass window is behind the head of the table, and each wall has three sets of closed doors. I stand by Caleb while we wait for the rest of the guests. Vera enters with the other ladies and they guide her to our seats.
I walk over to my fiancėe and say, “Here is your chair, my love,” I say, pulling out the pleated chair for her.
“Thank you, Robin,” Vera says as she sits in the designated chair. I push her seat closer to the table, step to my right, and sit in my chair. I look around the table and see Marilyn and Michael at the front, side-by-side, Taylor to Michael’s right, then Vera, myself, and to Marilyn’s left Caleb, Elanor, and Rowena. The other sixteen guests follow on either side, each seated in the chair designed for them and marked by the card in front of the table setting.
I catch part of Taylor’s words to my fiancėe “…close friends. He told me a great deal about your musical talents and language skills. Taylor Wilkins, at your service, miss.”
“It is lovely to meet you, Monsieur Taylor. Meeting his acquaintances is always interesting. How did the two of you meet?” Vera asks both of us. I press my arm against hers and clasp our hands together.
“Vera, my love, I met Taylor during a strategy meeting. He and Michael leaned over a table covered in maps while drinking hot tea. When I entered, Taylor passed me a third cup without looking up. I joined them and the other advisors and listened to the group talk through the statistics of either side’s troops. I worked to train the soldiers into swordsmen.”
“Quite skilled in that field, Robin is. I do believe his swordsmanship skills only improved over the year or two when he trained the soldiers. Many would find it difficult to disarm your fiancé unless they could distract him.”
Vera looks at me, pursing her lips, a sign of confusion, and asks why I never told her I fought with blades, not just making them. I sigh and say, “Love, I did not want to dwell on the past. Dueling for sport and killing to survive are extremely different actions. I prefer to enjoy my time with you or work in the forge, not thinking about what I did during the most challenging time of my life.” I squeeze her hand reassuringly and continue, “Anyway, you never showed interest in my duels before. I want to plan for the future, not think about the past.”
The conversations around the table fall silent, and Michael welcomes the guests. “I hope you enjoyed your night has gone smoothly thus far. My wife and I appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedules. Tonight, we dine on fresh baguettes with olive oil, a salad lightly tossed in a raspberry vinaigrette, followed by marvelous potato soup, which is Marilyn’s favorite, and a butterscotch soufflé for dessert.”
Marilyn chimes in, “As always, we have tea, coffee, and fruit platters after the meal while we continue to fellowship and enjoy one another’s presence. But enough about our plans, let us eat!” With her final words, the doors lining the walls open, and multiple figures step out with plates of food balanced in their hands.
After dinner, Vera leans over to ask me, “I wondered, my dear, if I could go see this garden I heard so much about from my new acquaintances. Simply sit in the moonlight and enjoy nature while you mingle with your friends.”
“I see no reason not to, my love, as long as Marilyn does not mind you venturing through her creation.” I smile and thank our luck that she decided to ask first. Otherwise, Marilyn planned to offer to show her the flowers.
Turning her face toward the head of the table, Vera repeats the question to Marilyn. She responds, “That sounds like a lovely idea, Vera. My hydrangeas and hyacinths are in full bloom, which is unusual for this time of year. The fruit trees bear harvests of sweet cherries, apples, and peaches. I will show you to my favorite bench and let you soak in the atmosphere.”
Both stand and walk towards the manor’s exterior, and Marilyn looks back, nodding to the rest of the group, a nod that starts the unraveling. Caleb, Elanor, Taylor, Michael, Rowena, and I each draw our daggers, concealing them under the tablecloth. The other guests continue eating, unaware of the danger.
Michael stands and says, “Now, I have a present for some of you.” He pulls out a little red button. “I want to thank you for coming here tonight, your trust is quite shocking, and unfortunately, we will not need you any longer. One might say, that we are restarting the little country we call home.” He pauses, “Too many stitches have fallen out and must be cut off. You must understand, business is business.”
He presses the button and metal snaps up from the armrests around each guest’s wrists. Caleb, Taylor, Elanor, and Rowena reveal their knives and show them off to the wide-eyed men and women who cry out from shock and fear. I see tears stream down some of the women’s faces as I stand. Part of me sees Vera in those tears, while the other half feels numb and knows how this will end. However, every project will end, and some get scrapped and reformed. The Capulons will reknit this sweater into a nation of their own. Drawing my blade, I move behind the first man. Time to cut loose strings.
Walking into the tall rows of hedges, I button up the coat that I borrowed from Michael. My own offers a dead giveaway if Vera felt the damp cloth. Rounding the corner, I see my fiancėe sitting on the stone bench. The moonlight reflects off her hair as I walk to her, grab her hands, and pull her to her feet. She stumbles before regaining her balance and signing, “Gracious, Robin! You startled me.”
I chuckle. “Well, what did you expect? I cannot let a lady as beautiful as you sit alone. And you always liked dancing, so I thought we could live in the moment.” I slowly move and Vera follows, the two of us swaying and gliding across the soft grass. I spin Vera into my arms, and we stand together under the moonlight.
Leaning down, I whisper in her ear, “Love, how did you like our little trip?”
She smiles up at me and replies, “I found it splendid and enjoyable. Your friends sound so sweet and friendly. Later, I would love to connect with them more because they seem like good people.”
I smile at her ignorant trust and hug her. “That sounds like an excellent plan, darling. I will set up a gathering between you and the other ladies.” I spin Vera out on my left hand before stepping closer. I kiss her hand and continue, “We should leave soon so we get back home before midnight, my love.”
“Sounds good.”
We link arms and walk back through the garden. Vera stoops and puts her shoes on before following me around the manor. As we walk past the beds of flowers, I pluck a little pink snapdragon and tuck it behind Vera’s ear. My darling would never understand the life we live. I never want her involved in the crimes we commit. Her ignorance brings me bliss. However, I do not miss the irony of her desire for a garden. She never learned the communication of flowers, something our hosts know themselves and taught me.
Each flower holds a meaning, some positive, but others warning the viewer of a danger. Marilyn loved languages and wanted her garden to represent herself: beautiful, cunning, wealthy, but above all, deceptive as a snapdragon. The Capulons planned this night for a year and started a process of reforming a country and molding it into a new nation, one with them as its leaders. A string unraveled and reknit. A blade formed of reclaimed metal. A country overthrown and reordered after new ideas. Each project requires work and maintenance, each taking what failed and restoring it to a purpose, a purpose set by the maker. Marilyn and Michael mastered their craft and did not hesitate to use it.
I help Vera into the carriage and climb up after. She leans against me and relaxes in her seat. She signs to me, “I like Marilyn’s garden; do you think I can make my garden similar?”
“Of course, love, not the same, but similar. She has a little broken well that I doubt we can replicate, but any flowers you desire, I will find for you.”
She gasps. “Thank you, Robin! I cannot wait to add more to my garden.”
“Would you like to start with snapdragons?” I say.
Vera and I walk out of the main garden and past the broken well, unto which my closest colleagues toss dark forms to its depths, never to rise again. It is truly a shame that they did not see such an event coming when we invited them to the Capulon mansion. But alas, every garden contains secrets, and sometimes our perspectives blind us to the truth.
Written By: Marian Markley
Owl Things Considered 