St. George and the Dragon - 2. Chapter 2: Delays

The next day dawned with birdsong and brilliant sunlight streaming through his room’s windows. The storm had given way to a crystalline sky. The day beckoned. He descended to the pub on the main floor where he was welcomed by a somewhat tattered and weary Mr. Mayhew.

“Ah, good morning, sir. You look recovered from last night’s adventure,” said with false heartiness. Then sotto voce to himself, “If only I had.”

“Mr. Mayhew, are you well?” a concerned Charles St. George inquired.

“I’ve been better, but such is the life of a rural pub owner. Now if you’ll go along into the lounge, I’ll have the young Frederick bring you a fine English breakfast.” Mayhew turned toward the back of the pub. “Fred, hey boy, Mr. St. George is here for his breakfast, and bring me a fresh cuppa.” Meyew returned his attention to Charles, explaining, “Frederick is my grandson. He finished school well enough, but his neither his parents nor I am able to help him with more schooling, so he’s here helping out in the pub. All in all a good life, but maybe less than what he might have done.”

Charles settled into the lounge thinking how his own life could have used some help until his breakfast was delivered by Frederick, a young man just emerging from adolescence. Left to his breakfast, his attention was drawn to the front of a broad bay window that looked out on a village green invisible the night before. Surrounding the green was the church and quaint buildings, a classic English Village, serene, timeless. Various townspeople emerged to go about the business of opening shops, sweeping doorways, greeting neighbors.

Then, it was as if an unseen wave crossed over the village. One by one, the attitude of each person in Charles’s view changed. Wives move protectively toward their husbands. These same men turned away yet seemed drawn toward the green. And the children, the children flocked toward the center of the green. Out of the assembling crowd, a taller figure emerged into sight, his fair head catching the warming sun as he strode across the green. The figure greeted each child, tousling this one’s hair, squeezing another’s shoulders, shaking the hand of an older youth. He must have said something, for all the children stopped in a group as he made his way toward the pub.

Mayhew appeared at Charles’s shoulder, joining him in looking out at the green. “Mr. Mayhew, forgive my curiosity, but everyone’s behavior when near Robby is, well its beyond odd, it’s almost as if adults are frightened.”

Mayhew nodded. “I suspect you’ll find out for yourself before long, I’m thinking. Yes, Robby’s not one to let one such as yourself alone. Goodness me, he was in a state last night. Little wonder the whole village is on its guard today. You’d be well advised to be cautious yourself, sir.”

Moments later the pub door banged open. “Charlie, my lad, where’s Charlie?” The lounge filled with Robby’s presence. On spotting Charles, he burst out, “Charlie, have I got plans for you.” The broad smile lit up Robby’s handsome face, made even more appealing by more than a hint of lust. He sat opposite Charles, reaching for both his hands across the table. “It’s a fine day, Charlie, we’ll have a grand time.”

Charles was unable to respond, tongue-tied in the Robby’s powerful presence. It was odd to be held by the hands, yet welcomingly intimate at the same time. Charles’s mind raced as to what this radiant creature had in mind as ‘plans’, most of his thoughts circling a growing physical desire.

“Mr. St. George,” Mayhew’s voice interrupted through the bar hatchway. “There’s a call for you, sir. You can take it here in the bar.”

The spell was broken. “Excuse me, I cannot imagine who would be calling me here, but I’d better take it,” Charles regretfully explained as he pulled from Robby’s grasping hands.

“Mr. St. George? I’m Sinclair Wreston, your late uncle’s solicitor. I apologize for calling at so early an hour, but matters concerning the estate have taken on some urgency. Mr. Priddy advised me that I could find you at the George. I’ve already advised him that he will need to postpone his appointment with you. Would it be possible for you to call on me in my offices in Wellton? I’m sure the pubman can give you directions.”

Robby was agape when Charles explained that he would have to postpone the day with him. His expression changed from disbelief to disappointment to frustration. “But I hoped we could, I mean I was counting on you and me, well, you know…” His voice trailed off.

“I’m sorry Robby. I’m sure you had plans for us today. I’m very curious about what you had planned to show me today, but it can’t be helped. Now my problem is my car is stuck way back up the road somewhere.”

Robby muttered to himself, “I can’t believe it. Am I losing my touch? Nobody ever walked away from me before.”

Before he could respond, Mayhew could be heard directing someone into the lounge. “Ah, Mr. St. George,” sympathized Ned Johnson on entering. “I’m afraid your car has seen better days. The Mire has claimed it as a victim. Sunk fair down she is with the stream flowing into its innards. It’ll be days for her to dry out and then there’s no guarantee she’ll ever start again, the danged computer driven-models.”

“It’s a hired car, I hope the insurance covers the costs,” Charles said hopefully, now distracted from Robby’s entreating look. “Now how can I get to Welton?”

“Well sir,” Ned Johnson pondered rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “Mr. Jack, now his Rover, its safe in his garage. My boy, Alf, he had charge to keep it in running order and he’s kept at it, even after Mr. Jack’s passing, not knowing if it would be needed. Turns out it is. I’ll have Alf bring her ‘round here for you.”

“Thank you, sir, you’ve been most kind. That would solve my transportation problem.”

“And we’ll drag that car out of the Mire for you. The hiring company will have send a truck to pick it up. We can arrange that, if you like.”

Charles could feel Robby’s presence behind him. He turned to face Robby, finding him standing clenching and unclenching his hands in apparent frustration.

“Can we try again tomorrow, Robby? It’s important for me to see my uncle’s solicitor. I hope whatever you’ve planned can wait.”

Robby’s agitation grew. “But I really wanted to…, need to…, FUCK,” he exclaimed as he stormed from the room.

Mayhew and Ned Johnson watched in amazement as Robby left, then turned toward Charles both shaking their heads in amazement. “Never thought I’d see the day, no never thought I would,” Mayhew uttered.

“Me neither. After everything we all put up with,” Johnson agreed. “Mayhew, my man, do you think this is the one, the one to take on ‘the dragon’?” he said clearly indicating Charles.

“It would be a miracle, Ned, but seeing as how last night Mr. St. George retired from the field of battle unscathed and now put him in his place, nice as you please, I’m thinking I’m seeing a miracle.”

Charles looked each man in the face. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“Ah, I suspect you’ll find out before long, Mr. St. George. Now sit down and have another cup of coffee while Ned’s Alf brings your car around.”