Zeus didn’t even know what to say. He was watching the same thing, as puzzled as Jareth was. He had never seen anything like it. As they stood there, watching the crowd, a man that Zeus recognized as a local fisherman came forward.
“My lords,” the man said. He was young, with dark hair, and a thin but strong body. “We heard about the lady. We’ve come to see how she fares.”
Jareth looked at Zeus in surprise. In fact, they were both surprised. “She is still unconscious,” Jareth said loudly. “I do not understand. Why have so many of you come? Do you all know Lady Desdra?”
The man smiled. “If we do not know her, we still know The Feast,” he said. “It is something special, my lord. A place of comfort, of caring. Lord Chester was a good man. He took good care of us when we needed it. He never let us suffer if he could help it. Bread to the needy, boats to the fishermen who had lost theirs… The list goes on.”
Jareth could see that everyone in the crowd seemed to have the same attitude—there were smiles, mostly. Truthfully, he was touched by the words.
“Chester de Long was my uncle,” he said. “My name is Jareth de Leybourne. The Feast is mine now, and I promise to carry on my uncle’s legacy. Any in need will always be welcome here.”
That seemed to please those who heard him. The young fisherman looked at those around him, nodding, before he took a few steps forward and focused on Jareth again.
“The Feast is unique to Bristol, and there’s not one of us who hasn’t been touched by it at some time,” he said. “We came to tell you we are sorry for the misfortune, but we also came to offer our own comfort the best way we can.”
With that, he stood aside as several women came forth bearing trays of bread. So much bread. Little children were running alongside them, carrying loaves under their arms, and they came up to Jareth to hand them to him, but he could only take one tray. Zeus had to take another, and then others came out of The Feast to collect the rest.
But that wasn’t the end. More people were coming forward, carrying baskets of eggs or vegetables or fish. No one could take them, however, because their arms were full, so the people simply set the gifts on the ground at Jareth’s feet. As he stoodthere, awed by what was going on, a woman came forward with a basket of kittens.
“This is for Lady Desdra,” she said. “She saw me in church one day, asking for alms, and she stopped to speak with me. She wanted to know why I was begging, and I told her because my husband was a farmer who had been injured and could not work. We had nothing. Lady Desdra spoke to Lord Chester and he arranged to have men work our farm and bring in our crop. They also paid for a physic to tend my husband. I have thanked her many times, and we paid our debt to Lord Chester with the money we made from the crop, but when I heard that Lady Desdra had been badly injured, I wanted to bring her something that would make her smile. She told me once that she was sad to have left her cat behind when she came to Bristol. Mayhap these little friends will make her smile again.”
Jareth smiled at the cute kittens, three of them, in the small basket. “I will make sure she receives them,” he said. “Thank you for your kindness.”
The woman shook her head. “I can never fully repay her for what she did for us,” she said. “And all of these people—they have similar stories. Without Aphrodite’s Feast, many of us might not have survived.”
She handed Jareth the basket of kittens and walked away, leaving others to add their tribute to the growing pile around Jareth. He was truly touched by what he was seeing. Someone beside him reached over to take the basket of kitties and he turned to see Melaina, grinning at him when their eyes met. As the woman took the cats and headed back into the interior of The Feast, more people came forward to tell Jareth what Chester de Long had done for them.
It was an astonishing moment.
One man was thankful because he was a smithy who lost his stall to a fire and Chester had rebuilt it for him. Another wasa fisherman who had lost his boat in a storm and Chester had given him a job working for him on another vessel. The priest that everyone called the Pope came forward, without his mask or disguise this time, and conveyed his thanks for the beautiful church that Chester had built. Still others came forward to show their thanks for the universitas that Chester had commissioned and what it had done for their lives.
On and on it went.
One of the last people to come forward was a small man with flowing white hair who introduced himself as Marston. Jareth hadn’t had the time to get over to the merchant stall yet to meet Marston, so it was a welcome introduction. Marston Crewes was his full name, and he was quietly spoken but seemingly bright and articulate. He and Jareth engaged in a discussion about the merchant stall, officially called The River, but Marston kept having to stand aside while more people brought forth some kind of gift for Desdra and The Feast. They finally had to stop talking because there were so many people who wanted to offer their thanks. So many gifts that Jareth was quickly becoming overwhelmed with it all.
“This has been a remarkable moment,” he said, looking at all of the tributes around him. “I feel as if I knew Chester so little. He was my mother’s brother, but I hardly knew him. He lived in such a rich world that I’m only just beginning to see.”
Marston, standing nearby, smiled in agreement. “Chester and I grew up together,” he said. “I knew your mother, the fair Ophelia. You look like her.”
It did Jareth’s heart good to hear that. “So I have been told.”
“Chester never had any children, as you know,” Marston said. “He spoke fondly of you and now I see why. You must have reminded him of his sister, whom he adored.”
“I think so,” Jareth said. He paused before continuing, gathering his thoughts. “It’s ironic… when I first heard of thisinheritance, I did not want it. I made no secret of that. All I knew was that it was a brothel and I did not want to be associated, but now… now, I am ashamed of my attitude. It’s truly much more than a brothel. I did not believe it until I saw for myself.”
Marston seemed to understand that. “The legacy of the House of de Long is not a brothel,” he said. “Or a merchant fleet. Or the fine manor at Redcliffe. Or anything else, really. The legacy of the House of de Long is the good that it has done for the people of Bristol. That is what everyone has come to show you today. It is gratitude for what Chester and his forefathers have done for them. Lady Desdra has become part of that since she has been here.”
Jareth nodded in understanding and in agreement. For a man who had been denied the de Leybourne legacy, he had inherited something far better through his mother. He was to carry on a greater legacy than his brother or father could have ever hoped to achieve. He could see that now, and for the first time since he’d come to Bristol, he was proud.
Proud to be chosen to carry on the legacy of the House of de Long.
“When I am fully healed and Lady Desdra is recovered, I hope you will come here and sup with me,” he said to the old man. “I should like to speak to you more about Uncle Chester. I wish I had known him better. Mayhap you can help me.”
That seemed to please Marston immensely. “I should be happy to, young lord,” he said. “May I ask how Lady Desdra is? We heard terrible things had happened.”
The warmth faded from Jareth’s eyes. “What did you hear?”
“That there had been a fight,” Marston said, lowering his voice. “Some of the fishermen saw The Guardians bring a dead man to the riverbank and put him upon a vessel. One of them said that the man had harmed Lady Desdra and was paying the price. Some say she is near death. That is all anyone reallyknows. But that is why we came to pay our respects, to show those at The Feast what it means to us. Whatshemeans to us.”
