6 Dead eyes will speak thunder

  The night hadn’t passed yet, and it seemed the universe didn’t want Joseph gone. The clouds covered the moon, and a staggering rumble shook the earldom. The Hoffman orphanage was as restless as the earl’s house. A young boy at the age of seven tossed and turned in his bed. An unknown cause was slowly devitalizing him. The caregiver nuns rushed to his side.

  “Empty the room!” shouted the superior nun, who wore a white coif that distinguished her from the others. The nuns obliged, running to the curious boys standing at the door to take them out of the room. The superior nun wanted to touch the boy’s body, but she was afraid she would contract his disease. The nuns closed the door and approached the ill boy’s bed.

  “When did this start?” the superior nun asked the anxious middle-aged janitor.

  The man wiped the sweat off his forehead with his gray hat. “The boys say two days ago.”

  “Oh, Dear Lord!” the superior nun said. “Why didn’t he come to us sooner?”

  “We can still help him, aye?” the janitor asked in despair.

  The nun hesitated but decided to tell the truth. “The disease takes them in three days.”

  The wrinkles on his forehead deepened as he frowned. “Let us pray it doesn’t,” one of the nuns said, catching everyone’s attention.

  “Praying won’t stop the contagious disease, sister,” the blue-eyed nun said. “While you do that, I’ve asked for my own kind of help.”

  They were confused. “What can you mean?” one nun asked.

  The candles were no match for the darkness of the night. Cold air blew, and the doors and the windows rattled during the scary night in the orphanage. The afflicted young boy was kept separated from others to prevent passing his disease. Thunder bolted the sky, lightning the orphanage for only a few seconds. The nuns looked at each other for reassurance, but none could console the other.

  “He’s here,” the janitor said, and the nuns turned around to see the newcomer. “The Pedlar,” he said again. The superior nun took only one step toward the door in anticipation. She was impatient to meet him.

  A figure appeared, with a long cloak that covered his average height and a hood that shaded his face. The nun wanted to know who he was so she could trust him, but the darkness didn’t allow it. Without any introduction, the hooded man walked toward the sick boy's bed while limping on his right foot. As he got closer, his masked face became apparent to the eye. The nuns watched him silently, wondering who he was. The superior nun stepped aside to give him space. The man stretched his hand with gauntlets to examine the ill boy. One of the nuns couldn’t let him since she didn’t trust the masked man and questioned his intentions. So, before his hand touched his skin, she grabbed his wrist to stop him.

  A thunder lightened the sky, and the following growl startled the skeptic nun. She instantly released the man’s wrist and stepped backward, clutching the cross on her rosary as she mumbled something under her breath. If he was a demon, perhaps she could eliminate him. But nothing happened to the mysterious man. Even with a mask, he managed to induce fear through them.

  Was he really a man with power? Wouldn’t that question everything they had been worshipping? They didn’t want to believe in it, but when the young boys in the orphanage got too sick one after the other, and every one of them died only three days after their first symptom, the nuns had no choice but to use the infamous Pedlar’s help.

  Everyone held their breath as his head turned back to the ill boy. He didn’t react to the nun's impulsive action and instead focused on the important matter. With a strong grip on his shoulders, he steadied the boy’s restless body. The poor child was still tossing and turning. One nun understood that the hooded man only wanted to heal the boy, so she decided to help. She helped keep the boy in place, and the hooded man turned him on his left side. He put his hand on the boy’s bare back and moved his fingers on his body until he stopped at a spot.

  Everyone watched as he examined the boy, and they all grew impatient. The rain started pouring down, frustrating everyone more than they already felt. The hooded man took something out of his bag, something small that looked like the seed of a date. Then he bared the bottom of the young boy.

  The nun wanted to protest again, but the superior nun grabbed her hand and stopped her. She squeezed the nun's hand as reassurance that nothing would happen, although she wasn’t sure herself. The boy had been sick for two days, and she didn’t want him to die.

  The hooded man put the small thing that looked like a date's seed between the legs of the young boy and gently pressed it until it was inside him. It made the nuns look away. Suddenly the roof started dripping, and a pile of cold water poured on the nuns, soaking them in only a few seconds. They gasped and stepped away from the dripping ceiling. The masked healer looked at them for a few seconds as if he was remembering something. He shook his head and returned his gaze to the boy. The soaked sisters stood in another spot while trying to dry themselves.

  The boy was still tossing and turning but slower. The stranger put his finger inside the boy’s mouth and stayed there for a few seconds. The nuns suspected what he was doing. Did he cast a spell or some witchcraft on the boy’s body? The man retrieved his hand from the boy’s mouth and approached the nuns. He handed the superior nun two more of the same small thing and a small bag of some powder.

  Drenched like a rat, the superior nun looked at the things in her hand with confusion. She wanted to ask how to use the powder but saw a note on the small bag and kept silent. It was the instructions. The superior nun looked up to thank the man, but the hooded man had vanished. Her eyes widened at his sudden disappearance.

  In the dark hallways of the main foyer, the limping man’s figure appeared in sight, walking toward the exit with his long cloak. Another thunder struck the sky, and a face on a portrait on the wall was revealed to him, a woman, beautiful with blue eyes and dark blonde hair. The masked stranger looked at the painting shortly as if it reminded him of something, but then started walking away.

  “Pedlar!” someone shouted his nickname, and he stopped, turning to see who would dare shout for him. It was a young man with clothes that looked like a servant’s. He ran to the hooded man to talk to him.

  “I mean no harm!” the young servant said when he stood only a few steps away from the hooded man. His face was seen better as he stood closer. He was the valet of the Mainwood house, the one Robert threatened to kill if he talked about Joseph’s state to anyone. The rain had soaked the valet. His face was a mix of agony and despair.

  “I need your help, Mister,” the valet said. “It’s quite urgent.”

  The man had no clue who the valet was. And even if he knew, he didn’t care. He turned back to his way and started walking.

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  “Please!” The valet cried, “For the love of God. I need your help!” But it didn’t stop the mysterious stranger. The valet started following him. “The earl is sick. Please. I beg of you! Have a look at him. He’s dying, and no physician can help him.”

  The man was in a rush. He had to leave immediately, but the valet’s words made him hesitate. He was making up his mind to ignore him and leave the orphanage. His steps were fast and clumsy.

  A heart-stopping thunder louder than the rest hit the sky, and the sound growled through London, lightening the night as if it were a day. The hooded man stopped dead in his tracks, too affected by the sound and the face before him—the blonde noblewoman in the massive portrait on the wall that could be seen only with lightning's force. This time the woman in the frame somehow looked angry. The hair on his neck stood.

  The valet stopped only a few feet before the hooded man. He looked at the same painting. “Countess Margaret,” the valet said as the shadowy healer stared at the painting, unable to take his gaze apart. “The earl’s dead wife who helped build this place,” the boy added.

  The man stared at the painting that was now lost in the darkness. His pause lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime for the valet. As if the portrait had spoken to the hooded man, he turned around and approached the valet in haste while he limped to accept helping the earl. A moment of joy passed the young valet’s face, and he walked toward the door, guiding the healer to his carriage. He knew Robert Capell would kill him if he found out, yet he didn't care.

  The night growled, and the rain ruthlessly washed over every living being. The carriage was fast; It had no other choice. The earl was dying, and the servants were the only people concerned for him.

  The sound of the horse’s hooves got lost through the night's madness as they rode to Mainwood. The carriage stopped a few houses away from the Mansion. The valet wanted to explain why. People were ashamed and scared of seeking a man's help known as the Pedlar. But the man didn’t care.

  The house's backdoor opened, and the soaked bodies of the hooded man and the valet entered the house. It was dark everywhere. No one was there except one of the young maidens.

  The maiden had a candle in one hand. She moved her finger on her mouth to emphasize that they had to be quiet so the Capells wouldn’t hear them. The masked stranger entered the house and followed the young maiden as she made her way to the earl’s bedchamber. The valet followed them as well. They tiptoed and looked around to make sure no one was there to see them.

  The young maiden’s skirt got stuck to a small object, knocking it off. A loud thud rose as the object hit the floor. They turned around and saw a decorative silver cup hitting the floor tiles, making loud noises.

  “Is anyone there?” said Stewart, the eldest son of the Capells in the darkness. The young maiden almost gasped when she heard his voice. If he saw them, he would tell his father, Robert. The sound of Stewart’s footsteps was getting closer. Seeing them was inevitable.

  The hooded man acted fast although he knew nothing about why they had to hide and be quiet. He pinched the candle's flame in the maiden's hand, and it got blown out. The darkness took over the entire manor. The footsteps sounded sharper and closer until Stewart was only a few feet away. They held their breath as Stewart inspected the hallways. He couldn't see anything in the darkness, so he walked away, and a sigh of relief washed over them.

  They were safe once again, but the maiden was unable to guide the unknown man in the darkness. The valet was familiar with every step and stair, so he walked in front of them and led them in a low tone. The maiden followed along, grabbing the hem of the man’s hood so she wouldn’t fall. They were now in the second floor’s hallway.

  “Left,” the valet whispered, and the man followed him as the maiden tailed them. The Pedlar walked discreetly and calculated as if he knew every turn and step. He was fast and focused even with a limping leg, which fascinated the servants.

  The bedchamber's door was locked, and the key was in Robert Capell’s hand. But the valet had a spare key. He opened the door and carefully observed his surroundings to ensure no one would see them, especially Robert Capell. After they entered the room, he closed the door and instantly lit some candles for the healer to see the earl.

  The man took a look at Joseph’s unconscious body. His face was nothing but a skull covered with skin. He had lost much weight while lying on his deathbed. Joseph’s mouth was red, indicating the vomit of blood. The man sat by his side on the bed and looked at him.

  “He’s dying,” the valet said, which made the man start examining Joseph’s body.

  He took Joseph’s hand, turned his wrist around, and examined it for a few minutes. Then he uncovered Joseph’s chest and lowered his ear on it. He stayed there for a few seconds, then asked for help to turn Joseph around and lay him on his left. He lowered his ear on his back and stayed there for a few seconds. Then he moved his hand to Joseph’s side. The valet and the maiden wondered what he was doing. The hooded man pressed his fingers on Joseph’s body and waited for a reaction while moving his hand to the lower right side of Joseph’s torso. A sudden wincing sound left Joseph’s mouth.

  The valet was shocked and confused. He hated being helpless and trusting a complete stranger with Joseph’s life. The healer put one hand on Joseph’s arm as the valet held his torso. Somehow the young boy sensed that something violent was about to happen, but he was too slow to stop it. The healer hauled Joseph’s shoulder backward, and a crack came from his chest, startling the valet and the maiden. Joseph winced in pain, and the young valet intervened.

  “What are you doing?” He asked in shock. “Did you break his ribs?”

  The healer ignored him, pulling a pipe and a small container out of his bag. Curiosity was killing the valet. The man took something small and brown out of the container and put it in the pipe. In a surprisingly short time, he ignited it. A bad smell filled the room, which made the maiden cough. The valet shook his head to warn her.

  The hooded man blew on the flame. When the fire was extinguished, a very thick smoke started rising, smelling worse than it already did. The healer asked for help to put Joseph in a sitting position. Then he pulled a blanket over Joseph’s head and moved the pipe under the blanket, close to Joseph’s face. A few seconds passed, and Joseph started to cough slowly. The valet looked at the hooded man, waiting for an explanation, but he got none. After only a minute, Joseph’s cough worsened, sounding purulent, and it scared the valet.

  “What are you doing to His Lordship?” the valet asked, doubting the unknown man’s intentions. “He’s going to die!” He held Joseph by his shoulders and wanted to uncover the blanket, but the hooded man stopped him. He kept the pipe exactly where it was, and Joseph coughed even more.

  “He can’t die!” The valet said. “You’re killing him!”

  The maiden approached the valet and put a hand on his back to stop him from interfering with the healer’s methods. The valet wanted to stop him with every cell in his body, but he decided not to. He knew Joseph was going to die either way. The Capells would keep him in his bedchamber long enough to pass. If Joseph didn’t die, then they would find a way to kill him. So, the young valet didn’t protest. He kept Joseph in place as the man continued what he was doing.

  After five minutes, the hooded man uncovered the blanket from Joseph’s face. He took a bowl from the table and moved it before Joseph. Suddenly Joseph started vomiting. At first, it poured outside the bowl. The man relocated his hand and held the bowl a little farther. Joseph coughed between throwing up, and it made everything worse. He puked worse the second time; it was like his body was rejecting whatever was inside of him.

  The valet kept him still, and he puked another time. The man grabbed a piece of cloth and put it on Joseph’s nose, which made the valet realize that whatever was in the bowl wasn’t only coming from his mouth.

  The Pedlar cleaned Joseph’s face, and Joseph’s tired body again fell unconscious. The man grabbed another piece of cloth, soaked it in cold water, and bathed Joseph with it. He threw all the blankets to the side and barred Joseph’s body to wear only a thin layer of clothing.

  Then, he handed the valet four small bags containing herbal medicines. The valet took the bags and wanted to pull his hand away, but he stopped when the Pedlar didn’t let go. He stared at him and noticed what his concern was.

  “I can read,” the valet said. “The countess made sure I learned how to read.”

  The hooded man finally released the bags and got on his feet. He left Mainwood as the sky had calmed down a little. His hood was still wet, and the rain dampened it more.

  His steps were fast even with a limping leg. While looking around the empty city, he wondered why he agreed to help the dying earl. Of course, the ill man in deathbed needed help, but was it worth the risk of getting caught by others?

  The valet looked out the window at the mysterious man fading into the darkness and remembered that he hadn’t paid him. Regretful and exhausted, the valet sighed and promised to find the masked man again and pay him for his services. But first, the valet had to ensure something.

  Would the earl survive?