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The old man with the yellow beard was beginning to understand. He didn’t seem confused any longer, but rather disapproving of what he was being asked for and the purpose for which it would be used. However, given that he’d seen this man before, once in the company of the owner of the Ludus Caledonia and a few other times on his own, he didn’t press him further. He wanted to get through this without any trouble from the muscular warrior, so he turned back to his shelves of glass phials.
Each phial held something different, something mysterious or expensive. There had to be hundreds of the phials lining the shelves of the shop. Most phials contained what was called “simple” ingredients, meaning that it was only one element. But other phials had multiple ingredients, or “compounds”, which were mixed for a specific purpose.
The old man went to a particular area of the shop, peering up towards the top shelf, lined with dusty glass bottles. Pulling forth a small ladder, he climbed the rickety rungs and plucked one of the phials from the top shelf. With the glass carefully cradled in one hand, he returned to Titus.
The phial was filled with silver pellets. Removing the stopper, he plucked one of the pellets and held it up to Titus.
“Steep this in wine a few hours,” he said. “Have yer… friends drink the wine without the pellet in it. It will have the desired effect without injuring them.”
Titus took the silver bit out of his hand, holding it up to the dim light of the shop to get a better look at it.
“What is it?” he asked.
The old man was already turning away from him, returning the phial to its proper place.
“It is called tartar emetic,” he said. “It is used tae purge foul humors. Careful ye dunna give yer friends too much or it will kill them.”
Titus didn’t want to do that. He just wanted to get back at them for the old whore trick.
“I let it soak just a few hours?” he clarified.
“Just a few and no longer.”
“And it willna kill them?”
“If ye use it properly, it shouldna.”
That was good enough for Titus. He inspected the silver pellet a moment longer before tucking it into his purse and pulling forth two silver coins. Handing those over to the appreciative apothecary, he was just turning for the door when a group of women blew in.
Titus couldn’t see them very well because of the bright sunlight coming in through the doorway behind them, but he could see their shapes. He could smell the perfume. As they came deeper into the shop, he realized that he recognized the woman in the lead.
A bolt of shock ran through him.
Well-dressed and elegant, Titus knew her well, but she reminded him of a time in his life he’d rather forget. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do and his moment of indecision cost him, for the woman locked gazes with him and she, too, registered great surprise.
“Titus?” she gasped. “Titus, is that you?”
Titus nodded, realizing that he could not run now. He took a deep breath to steady himself as his heart began to pound.
“Aye,” he said. “Greetings, Lady Ayr.”
The woman shuffled over to him in a flurry of fine fabric and strong perfume, her expression filled with delight.
“Oh, it is you,” she said in her clipped English accent. “What a magnificent stroke of luck to find you here, Titus. I’ve not seen you in years.”
That was very true. Not since he’d been her husband’s hostage. He’d spent most of his life in captivity before being released, cast off into the world to fend for himself. Those were the years that Titus tried to pretend never happened, but seeing Agnes Stewart, Duchess of Ayr, brought back that which he hadn’t thought of in quite some time.
Seeing her face brought back the old, familiar hatred.
“It has been many years, m’lady,” he said, feeling uncomfortable. “If ye will excuse me, I’ve business elsewhere.”
“Titus, wait,” she said, putting her hand on his arm to stop him. Her gaze looked him over appraisingly. “Do you not have a moment to spare me? My, you have grown. When I last saw you, you had only just become a man and my husband finally found peace with your father. What a glorious day that was, your release. To tell you the truth, I had begun to look at you as one of the family. You had been with us for so long, I felt as if I had raised you and I was sorry to see you go.”
I doubt that raising your children means keeping them locked up and punished at the slightest infraction, he thought bitterly. Lady Ayr wasn’t a terrible person, at least not as terrible as her husband, but she had been guilty of ignorance. She was slightly daft, and silly, and hardly noticed the things that went on around her. The more Titus looked at her, the more those terrible memories filled him.
The more he was bombarded by things he had tried hard to forget.
He had been so young when he’d been taken hostage by Ambrose Stewart, Duke of Ayr. The man was a cousin to his father, the youngest brother of the King of Scotland, James. Hugh Stewart, Duke of Kintyre and Lorne, was a man with a rebellious streak in him. Everyone knew it. When he’d fallen afoul of his brother in a sloppy coup attempt, Ambrose had stepped in to take Hugh’s bastard son hostage to ensure Hugh’s good behavior.
