Lafayette
Man of Artistic Fingers
I believe some people were interested in seeing chapter 2 so here it is. This is part 1 of chapter 2.
I’m going to die by the hands of Louie the Leach, mused Percy as he sat in his courtyard sipping wine, trying to relax. I have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and nobody cares. Unless the Creator does something miraculous, I’m doomed.
As he sat stewing in sorrow, he sought solace by watching and listening to the birds. They usually comforted him, but not today, for their singing was descendant and mournful. As he listened and watched, his sharp ears caught the thunder of a horse’s hooves. Anon his eyes verified his hearing. Sighing, Percy stood from his chair to meet the cloud of dust.
A rider in red yanked his roan to a dust kicking stop. Percy coughed. The red rider was a very young man with light brown hair and a large nose. Displaying courtesy, the rider waited for Percy to gain his composure.
The young man in scarlet silks asked, “Are you Mr. Percy Norton Marion Pane: Luthier Extraordinaire de Ganter?”
“Yes.”
“Hear yee, hear yee!” bellowed the young man, holding in his hands a shaking scroll (for his mount was still antsy). “You, Mr. Percy Norton Marion Pane: Luthier Extraordinaire de Ganter, are hereby summoned by his Lordship Edward Carr de Genter the Duke de Airton to be present at 1:00 at the Chateau Airton.” With a clumsy snap, the messenger closed the scroll.
Quietly and with puzzlement, Percy queried, “The Duke wants to see me a commoner? Why?”
“That, I do not know, sir. That information was not given to me. However,” said the red rider as handing Percy a ribbon wrapped scroll, “I am to give you this letter of passage. You are to present it to the guard or the chamberlain when arriving.”
*******
Plodding to his destination, Percy ruminated to himself. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about with Louie the Leech wanting to destroy my home and business and murder me, now I have to worry about the duke coercing me in creating the guitar beyond perfection. How can anything be beyond perfect? Yes, I know magic. But there is no such thing as magic. Surely a man as well educated as the duke knows that. So why does the duke need me? Unless. Unless the duke possesses the same insane mindset as Vincent, then I’m in trouble.
I don’t want trouble. All I want to do is sip wonderful wine, listen to the birds sing and create my guitars.
Pausing in his stride, he wiped the sweat from his flushed face and again asked himself, Why does the duke want to see me? I wish I knew more about him, besides him being named Edward the Ear or Eager Eddie. The Duke I hear knows everyone of some importance directly or indirectly, and that would include me. After all, I am the greatest luthier living, but he has not summoned me before, so why now?
What kind of trouble has my friend Richards gotten me into?
Then seeing the long path ahead of him lined with stone made house, Percy grumpt to himself, I hate long walks, especially since I have no horse and carriage. Oh, my aching legs and this heat. I love the heat, but this is ridiculous, specifically when it makes me perspire like a pig. I loath, perspiring. Oh well, it’s the penalty I pay for being plump.
Percy resumed his plodding (and aching). Monotonous moments later, he spied the octagon walls and cornicles of Chateau Airton. He halted for a breather and to wipe his perspiration. Focusing on the stony structure, he mused, Being of an artistic bent, I love and can appreciate the need of color, but why, of why has the duke painted his chateau lavender?
Despite, Percy’s sedentary life style he arrived ten minutes before one. A gentleman of Ganter was always expected to be early. At the gate, he was met by an irritated beer belly guard. Past the guard, Percy could see a score of lavender clad soldiers marching around the courtyard in strict unison. Percy was impressed and nerved.
“What do you want, commoner?” asked the surly sentry. “My day is about done and I have a pint of beer waiting for me.”
With a nervous hand, Percy handed the guard his scroll, “Here is my letter of passage.”
The sentry scowled, scanning the letter. “Okay, you can enter. Go to the green door and lift the door knocker. The chamberlain will let you in.”
*******
In the duke’s echoing foyer in dust soiled clothes, Percy stood alone, waiting, shaking, and talking to himself, “This place is incredible. I have never seen such splendor. I’m surrounded by murals and statues. What am I doing here? I must smell like a pig. A good Truer does not reek like a pig, especially before nobility. Perhaps I shouldn’t ask. After all, I am a Truer. Grandpa and papa often told me that the Gromanate Church and the nobility don’t like pacifists and heretics. I would feel more at ease if there were some commoners here with me. Percy, calm yourself. You have paid more than your share of taxes. There is a rational explanation for all of this. Your foolish imagination is carrying you away. Calm yourself.”
Momentarily, an old chamberlain dressed in bright blue cotton tights and tunic and a red sash came in. “The Duke has asked me to take you to his den. Please, follow me.”
With a fearful waddle, Percy followed the scruffy, clean, but grizzly looking chamberlain to a very thick, dark wooden door with deep engravings. Although the hallway was well lit with large torches and scented of mesquite, Percy still felt gloominess.
As the two men walked down the hall, the clatter of their footsteps echoed.
I wish this chamberlain would tell me or give me a clue to why I’m here. I would ask, but he is so taciturn and dispassionate I’m afraid to. Not knowing is gnawing at my nerves.
The old man deliberately opened a squeaky door and stepped inside. “Please, enter.” Percy timidly stepped in. “The Duke will be with you shortly.” Then the thin, grey man slowly closed the door with another slow squeak.
“I’m trapped,” whispered Percy to himself as he observed his surroundings.
Despite his unease, Percy couldn’t help but being awed by the enormous room with its red silver threaded carpet and various aromas.
“Ah, the scent of wood, leather, and paper,” said Percy rapturously. “My, oh my, rosewood walls and furniture with varnish. The grain is stunning. All this illuminated by those glass windows. My, they are large. Mine aren’t half as large. I wonder how much they cost. Mine cost me the labor of two guitars.” Turning from the windows, his eyes caught the books and scrolls.
“I’ve heard of libraries, but none like this. Scrolls and hand printed books.” Timidly, he walked over to a desk piled with tomes and, even more timidly, he touched them and inhaled. “Ah, leather. There’s nothing like the scent and feel of real quality leather. He has books on everything and anything: philosophy, prose and poetry, music, religion, and history. There is one even one on luthiery by the master Mohnday Guione.” Without caution, but with reverence, Percy tenderly opens the volume and gently turns the pages. “Oh, I give a fortune for this book.”
Then, looking up, he sighs wistfully, “There is lore here beyond my insignificant reckoning. I know merchants that have only twenty or forty books and they flaunt them shamelessly. I’m learning to lust.”
Gawking some more at his surroundings, Percy noticed maps, dozens of them. One in particular displayed ten continents. Perusing more closely, he detected some unknown areas penned with questions marks.
These Maps are fascinating, thought Percy, but not like these paintings. I have never seen so many and they are stunning. “My, oh my,” whispered Percy to himself. “Paintings of landscapes, mythologies, saints, knights, lords, and ladies. I know most of these artists from my books, but I’ve never seen them firsthand.”
Strolling around the room to take it all in, one portrait grabbed his attention and hypnotized him.
It was a young nude woman reclining on a violet satin sofa. Her pink and creamy white skin glowed with vivacity. Her figure had a very slight plumpness to it, with a gentle, tapering, narrow waist. Her head and face had even less plumpness. Her ink black hair with blue high lights was thick and long, cascading down her small round shoulders, draping her pink, perky breasts with their large erecting nipples. Her face itself was flawless, with delicately sculpted features.
Those pinks and that crooked smile are enchanting, contemplated Percy. And, and those violet eyes reflect and glisten like sapphires and are full of mischief and mystery. She looks like she’s saying, Bonjour to me.
Percy blushed. Then blushed again, for he felt something that he thought had died and gone away a long time ago.
