Eritopia

The Best Laid Plans...

Beetle was lying on his bed, thinking. Despite what he had said, he had little enthusiasm for Gordon's plan. Yes, Melos was scary, but what threat did he really carry? For the Brotherhood, a lot perhaps but for a humble citizen looking to keep his family together? Not so much.

The truth was, Beetle was keen to get back to the Palace. That was the main reason he agreed to Gordon's proposal. After seeing Jano go from drinking buddy to informer in one night, he knew the Brotherhood was not for him. 

Besides, he now had some real information for Melos and the King. There would be rewards a-plenty once he returned with it. Sure, the Guardia might raze the slums of Pit Edge and the borders of Barrytown to the ground. But while the soldiers were locking up the Brothers he would laugh and count his coins. With influence and a new job in the city, even his wife might see him in a new light.

There remained one problem; Martin. He was still his son, still part of the family even if misguided. Once they were journeying back to the city alone, Beetle was confident he could change his mind about the King. Free from the influence of the Brothers he would surely see sense. And if not? Well, the Croneyman might be able to persuade him.

'Dad?'

'What?' Beetle started.

'Wake up, it's time to go.'

They slipped out of the hut. It was close to midday. There were people pulling carts, wandering in conversation along the paths and lanes. All looked restless, inquisitive, shifty even. Beetle wondered how many were in league with the Brotherhood. He recognised the hut where he had drunk with those imposters the previous evening. He would make sure that Jano never worked in the Myrtle Tavern again. Throw him in the dungeons, and let him feel what it was like to be duped.

'Keep up, Dad.' Martin urged.

'I'm trying. The roads 'ave got more 'oles than a farmyard.'

They walked on. Smoke wafted from shacks, while in makeshift gardens people were cooking. Fires crackled and pots clanked as their contents were stirred. Conversations went on behind ramshackle walls. The lanes turned into roads and the ground underfoot became firmer as they reached the city's edge. It was busier here, but people were more mindful and walked with their heads down. Beetle and Martin blended in.

'Remember what we said,' Martin was talking, breaking into Beetle's muddled thoughts.

'About what?'

'When we get there. You came looking for me. You found me. We have to get inside.'

'That's easy,' Beetle said. 'I've done it once. Mention the Brotherhood to the guards and they whisk you to see the King.

'Easy as that?'

'Well, it was last time.'

'Were you really trying to help me? Back there, when you came looking?'

'Of course, son. I knew you were distracted by something. You were acting strange on the allotment.'

'How?'

'Staying out, watching over the river. As if you were looking for something.'

'I was. You know that now. Can't you see why? These people, they're trying to help the city.'

'The King is the city.'

'What?'

'I mean the King appears to be the city. The citizens look up to him. I looked up to him.'

'And now?'

Beetle gulped. 'Well of course not now. Your friends are very persuasive.'

Martin glanced at him.

'I mean it,' Beetle spluttered. 'It makes sense. We need to rescue these animals. Although the wolf can look after himself I expect. I bet he's eaten that little man by now.'

'The wolf's not like that, we've been telling you, he's a Prince. Came from across the Steeplings to help us defeat the King.'

'Whatever,' Beetle said. Utter piffle, he thought. That Melos will flay them both alive.

'What are you thinking?'

'Nothing. Wondering how we are going to get your friends out of this pickle.'

'Leave that to me,' said Martin. 'We have Gordon's plan.'

                                                                                                      ****

Well, plans need beginnings and plans need ends if they are to work out. Martin had the outline of one, but its success would rely on future events. That all depended on what happened when they got onto the Palace grounds.

'What's it like, inside the gates?' he asked his father.

'You should know, you work there,' Beetle replied.

'Staff entrances are round the back of the building. I didn't even know those rusty things opened.'

'Oh they do,' said Beetle. 'then there is a long walk up the steps to the veranda in front of the windows.'

'And inside?'

'Plush. Or used to be. But better than anything you've ever seen. Big cushioned chairs covered in soft silks. A bit faded now. Great big windows looking over the grounds. Some cracked, admittedly. All very imposing.'

'Did you see the King?'

'No, Melos. He said the King was unwell.'

'And what is he like, Melos? The Croneyman?'

'Whatever that is.' Beetle paused. 'He seemed all right. Intimidating. I wouldn't want to cross him.'

They turned a corner and went past Myrtle Tavern. This close to the city centre, all roads went to the Palace. The landlord was opening up his shutters. He looked out.

'Bit early for you, Beetle,' he shouted.

Beetle looked up.

'Later, Roger. I've got some business to attend to.'

Several minutes later the gates loomed large. A couple of soldiers slouched outside. When they saw Martin and Beetle approach, they stood up and walked toward them.

'Let me handle this, son,' Beetle said and, despite Martin's protest, he rushed forward.