Sunset on the Orchards

A Meeting Amongst the Trees

The younger left, off to supervise the orchard work crews. He watched them like a predatory seabird, mentally counting every fruit picked and adding up the profits. For each fruit bruised by  a servant's hand, he made a log of lashes to be given. The hours passed, the sun setting in a golden dusk over the ocean -- the water reflecting back the colors and turning the sea into an ocean of molten gold. Eventually, the servants trailed back to the low stone bunkhouse, propped up like a dog kennel against the side of The Earl's carved wood and stone palace. Morris stayed behind, amongst the apple trees. He lay against the trunk of one, small black ants finding their way off of the bark and onto his shoulders. He kept his eyes open just a sliver, appearing asleep to casual glance. In reality, this was not a mindless rest, but the tense waiting before a meeting of upmost importance. Tonight, his most loyal supporters and Silvester's most pronounced opponents on the island would receive the news. The Earl had taken the bait, and the other steps could begin to be taken. The stars began to appear in the darkening sky, a splash of specks like silver coins thrown atop a black cloth table. Two of the three moons were visible, each a shining crescent of what looked, to Morris, like a plater molded of the purest silver. For a time he lay, until the clock tower struck the hour of eleven. Then, as if summoned by the distant chimes, he heard the footsteps of two people on the dusty orchard road. He open his eyes, and glanced down the path, into the darkness between the trees. Two cloaked and hooded figures approached, one wielding a torch and the other fingering a small, polished, knife. Their footfalls were light, stirring up only the smallest puffs of dust on the trail. The black cloth cloaks concealed their features, covering the duo from head to toe and making them blend into the surrounding darkness. If it weren't for that damnable torch, they would have been nearly invisible. The younger stood, and said in a hurried whisper "The light! Put it out you fools, lest those loyal to the Earl question what you overdressed fellows are doing in the orchard at such an hour! Out with it, lest they find us out!" The taller figure, the one holding the torch, recoiled and dropped her light in the dust, stamping the unruly flame under boot to quell the traitorous light. "The light was needed! Would you rather we trip and fall upon our own blades? Or stumble across a wary guard? No, I think not! But, the light is out now and we are gathered. Wait we from Gerald and Opal? Or start we to business now?" The tall figure rebuked. "Opal and Gerald? Is Fletcher no longer in our plans?" Morris asked, dismissing the prior problem of the light from his mind. The short figure spoke in a low, gravelly voice "Fletcher is no longer in the plans, yes. The Earl has taken great displeasure in him, word being Fletcher has been pawning off the Earl's collection on the side. The Earl, in his pleasantry, has sent him to Riviea Isle, to be executed. We will need a new ambassador to the other isles to spread our cause, for poor Fletcher is by now painted with overmuch blood on the outside, and cross't by scar that shall never heal." Morris groaned in displeasure. "A thorn in an other wise fair day! Fine, we gather now. But my news waits for midnight. Then, the rest will come. Yes, we wait for Opal and Gerald." Morris finished, and the trio did wait. After a time, a faint singing could be heard from the orchard trail. More robed figures rounded the bend, six in total, and hummed their discordant melody. A scowl marred Morris' features once more. "Am I alone in my worry? Do you not care if we are found out? Fools! Cease your merry-making or we'll all end up the same as the poor fool Fletcher!" The grouping approached as Morris lamented their song, and two medium-height figures stepped forward. "What did happen to Fletcher? He was absent at supper, and lunchoen as well before that." The leftmost figure, Gerald, said. "He took a trip to Riviea. Eternal retirement for our poor fool, I am quite afraid. " The short man responded. "Rotten luck! A new ambassador is to be found, yes? Oh! Curse this distracted spirit! Morris, how went the proposal to the Earl? Has the fish been hooked?" called a lady from the procession's back. "The fish has bitten, and will soon be pulled ashore to be cut, I assure you dearest Vivian. Hear you all? The Earl has taken our bait, and the first step down the precipice is done! But do not revel so much so as to draw focus away from the latter steps. Caution is our friend in these next steps, as much as it was in this. Now, do any here offer new ways to slay our lovely Earl? Any better than leading him away and gutting him? Something with more subtlety? Something that, perhaps, won't bring his lover, Lady Moore, down upon us?" Morris questioned. "The Earl's alchemist, Morris! I have witnessed his recent research on the prisoners in the dungeon, I can thieve his notes on poisons and how to mask their taste." The woman in front of the second group stepped forward and spoke. "Yes Opal, but he hardly eats and masking the taste of poisons can become quite the task, not to mention who else may be killed if he invites others to sup. No, if we are to poison the Earl it must be done in a manner so as to appear to be of his own volition. Opal, what say the alchemist's notes of recent developments? Any poisons that do resemble healthful tonics?" Morris said. "To glen information on this, I would have to secret away his notes. Yes, I can do it, but I do request Gerald accompany me. If the alchemist hears of what we plan, through either my thievery or mannerisms, I will need one to remove him from this life. And Gerald is good enough a man to do it." Opal said. "A plan it is then, tomorrow, when the alchemist is down in the dungeon engaging in his experimentations you and brave Gerald will secret away his notebook. Bring it to my chambers, under guise of delivery of supper. There, I will pour o'er their contents and discern a proper poison," Morris said "All you left, do cover any tracks we have forgotten to sweep away and find us a new ambassador, one to replace the unfortunate Fletcher. Is this clear to all present?" All of the figures nodded their heads, spoke words of understanding, and dispersed by the twos, off into the dark of the orchard, back to the places they should have been. The conspiracy advanced, and the night passed.