Beloved Beast

Chapter Fourteen

 *****BB READERS: Please disregard and overlook any grammatical errors. This chapter is still undergoing some editing. Thanks so much and happy reading!!!******

Don stalked from his chambers, heedless of any staff underfoot, mindful of nothing but the barrage of emotions running through him.

He wasn't sure what had compelled him to open that chest. He seldom thought of it and could not recall when last he had gazed upon its effects. Clutching his mother's dress, the musty air had assumed a soft fragrance that stirred memories of bygone days that, much to his surprise, had never left him. They surged forward like the deep swell of the sea, sweeping him under a violent tide of bittersweet remembrances; accompanied by the worst kind of pain.

Time had callously dealt death to all of his loved ones; wrestling their souls from their bodies and reducing them to shavings of the earth.

It was evident as to why things like memories were kept in obscurer places, shoved into dark crevices of the mind, and dusty, wooden chests. But it was only a matter of time before they resurfaced, before they made their way to the unsympathetic light.

He could not contend with that pain and the reminder of everything he had lost. He would rather shove it back into those forgotten corners.

The sight that greeted Don as he entered the hall brought him from his thoughts and an immediate scowl darkened his face.

His guests were fashioned against his long, trestle table, fully engrossed in a drunken gaiety as they devoured the provisions offered with maddening gusto; tearing into the dried meat like ravenous beasts as they guzzled their portions down with greedy swallows from their pottery cups.

Firming his jaw, Don swept a wary look of contempt over the filthy men taking mastery of his things, his lips taking on a sneer.

"Ah, Sir Beast!" hollered one man already foxed as he hoisted his drink ceiling-ward, "Have you come at last to sup with us vagabonds?" the man followed his slurring query with a toothless grin and another hearty swig from his cup.

Don's eyes flickered to the portly, pocked-faced man chewing on a ration of meat, his thick jowls moving in tandem to his avid chewing. He was a man of rotund proportions, his bulbous nose, being the most prominent feature on his face, was as nearly as round as his protruding belly where the buttons strained against his corpulent waistline.

Resisting a snarl of disdain, Don ignored the man and crossed to settle at the head of the table where he could oversee his unwanted guests and have the entryway in view.

As he took his chair, the smaller man seated next to his paunchy companion edged away, his glassy, red-rimmed eyes shifting tensely above a blade-like nose.

Snared in that bloodshot stare, Don was grateful for the muted light of the room, for it cast deep shadows against his hooded face; but those said shadows disguised his guests all the same, throwing shade on the grimy faces circulating his table.

His eyes shifted to the slender man at the end of the table, noticing that he too had not removed his hood or cloak. It roused a whisper of suspicion, for the man in all of his ill-advised secrecy, did not engage the others or partake of the food and drink provided, which had his hackles standing erect.

"Much pleased for the hospitality," said the man with his blade-like nose, extracting Don's attention from the slender man, "How may we repay such generosity?" his thin lips peeled back into a mocking grin, revealing a crowded mouth of broken and decayed teeth.