Percival took a long drink from his beer and began his tale.
“My grandfather was the famous knight, Sir Reginald of Thorndyke. I am sure you have heard of him.”
“Indeed,” said I. “He plays a small part in my play The Ideal Magic.”
“I would like to see that play,” said he.
“Alas, it is unlikely that the play will ever again be performed. The primary antagonist proved very antagonistic, using magic to turn all the actors into pigs.”
“How were they?”
“Delicious,” said I.
“I meant, how were they in the play.”
“Passably good.”
“Anyway,” he continued. “My father being an only child, inherited my grandfather’s land and titles. He became the Earl of Thorndyke and married my mother, who was a princess from Goth. I was my father’s seventh issue, or at least, so my mother told him. Having four older brothers and two older sisters, there was little chance of me inheriting much of anything, but it didn’t bother me. My eldest brother Erol became Lord Ray, and would eventually be Lord Thorndyke. My other brothers trained for the clergy, the navy, and the army respectively. My eldest sister was married off to a nobleman from Lyrria. My younger sister became a nun. My parents didn’t know what to do with me. They sent me off to serve in the city guard at the capital. I think they rather hoped I would be killed and save them the trouble of finding a place for me, but they did promise me a match with a noblewoman. I wanted nothing to do with it however. I knew who I wanted to marry—my sweet Daphne.”
“Daphne is a lovely name,” said I.
“Yes,” agreed Ugra.
“Daphne was a milkmaid who lived on a farm near our castle. I first saw her when I was four years old. I was out playing soldier and found her picking flowers. She was a year older than I was and I was immediately smitten. From that day onward, we were never far apart from one another. I hurried to her farm after my studies to help her with her chores and then we wandered off into the country—playing games, picking fruit, swimming in the creek. As she grew older, she grew more and more beautiful. I couldn’t have been more devoted, and she loved me too. When I went off to Illustria, I promised I would return and marry her and she promised me that she would wait for me.”
“What happened to her?” asked Ugra.
“Perhaps she died of smallpox,” I suggested.
“No,” said Percival.
“Plague,” said Ugra. “Was it the plague?”
“Scarlet fever,” I suggested.
“Whooping cough,” offered Ugra.
“Typhoid,” said I.
“No,” said Percival. “The truth is far worse than any of those things.”
“Then how did she die?”
“She didn’t die. When I returned to Thorndyke, I was told that she had moved away. I was sure that she was sent away. It took me days to find any information about where she had gone and with whom. I had to torture… um, question more than a dozen people, but at last I found out she had been sent to live with a farmer near the border of Brest. I traveled east and eventually found the farm. During the night, I snuck in and woke her. I told her I was there to take her away. She screamed and told me to stay away from her. She was in love with her farmer and was carrying his child. She told me that she had never loved me and was glad to finally be rid of me when I had been sent away.”
“What a cold, miserable bitch” said Ugra. “And trust me, I know cold, miserable bitches.”
“What did you do?” I asked. “You didn’t kill her in a fit of rage, did you? I would understand if you did, though I will probably have to change that when I write the story.”
“No, I didn’t kill her.”
“What about him? Did you kill him? That would be understandable and could work well in a story. People would probably even like that part.”
“I did think about it,” said Percival. “But no, I didn’t kill him either. I just left. And since then, life just doesn’t seem worth living. So far though, neither man nor god has gone out of his way to help me end this.”
“My husband tried to help,” said Ugra.
“His heart was in the right place,” said Percival. “Alas, his sword was not.”
“Cheer up, Friend Percival,” said I. “Someday you will find a new woman—someone worthy of your love and devotion.”
“I will never love anyone like I loved my Daphne.”
“I’ll tell you what lad,” said Ugra. “I’m going up to your room and wait for you. When you’re done eating, you can show me how you loved her, on the house.”
She left the taproom and started up the stairs. Percival and I sat eating eggs in silence. After ten minutes he spoke up.
“Why don’t you tell me the story of The Queen of Aerithraine?”
“No, I don’t tell that story anymore,” said I. “To be sure, you would enjoy it if I did tell it. You would be filled with wonder and excitement, for a truer story, a better story, a more profound story, and a more profitable story simply does not exist. But I don’t tell it anymore. It just depresses me.”
“I understand,” he stood up, his shoulders slumped in disconsolation. “Well, I’m going to my room. I don’t suppose Ugra is planning to kill me in my sleep, do you?”
“I don’t think so,” said I. “But maybe she has syphilis.”
“Yes,” he said, his face immediately brightening. “Thank you Eaglethorpe.”