Down at the Inn

2,581 words

Lady Marion had problems. For one thing, she had reached the ripe age of twenty-six without having been married once. For another thing, she was madly in love with a gentleman from the East. That would have been a solution to the first problem, but unfortunately, the good Sir William, while an excellent man, and an even better lover, was poor and he kept telling Lady Marion that until he had more money, he would not be able to marry her. So, for the time being, the two would meet at local inns, the sort of places nobility were not expected to frequent, but nevertheless often did. The encounters with Sir William were wonderful always leaving her in a state of ecstacy, but they ended all too quickly and she would have to go back to her life where she dreamed of living happily ever after.

One day, the King called Lady Marion into his chamber. "Good woman," he said, "I have a job for you. It is a sort of mission which must be given to someone that I can trust implicityly."

"Of course," said Lady Marion, proud of the king's trust.

"Very well," said the king. "I need some money delivered to my sister in the Southern realms. Ride out with it at once."

"Oh? How much money?"

"40,000 gold crowns."

Lady Marion was astonished. "That is a small fortune."

"Exactly," said the king, "and you see why I am giving you this job. You're the only person that I would trust with such a sum of money."

Lady Marion blushed, but she couldn't help thinking of something else: That 40,000 gold crowns would be enough for her and Sir William to get together and live quite well.

* * *

That night, Lady Marion rode out from the castle with the purse full of money, but she did not ride in the direction of the Southern realms. Instead, she nervously headed East.

The first night was rather scary. She kept telling herself that there was no way that anyone could catch her, but she worried just the same. When she grew sleepy, she tethered her horse by the side of the road and slept there. That proved to be a mistake, because in the morning there was a member of the King's guard standing over her.

"Er. . .Have I done anything wrong?" she asked.

"Well," said the guard, "you shouldn't have slept there. It's kind of dangerous. You know, there are lots of inns in the area."

"Well, right, but have I broken any laws?"

"I suppose not?"

"Then, I am free to go," she declared.

The guard didn't look convinced, but he let her ride away.

Still, she was even more worried. So on the second day, she took a long detour away from the main road which led her into the district Castlebridge. Then, just to be on the safe side, she stopped at an inn which was off the beaten path.

It was a quaint little place, with a sign saying that it was the "Bates Inn". A handsome young fellow came out to greet her. "Greetings! Greetings!" he said. "I am innkeeper Bates. Did you want a room?"

"Please," said the Lady.

"Very good," said the innkeeper. "I will stable your horse. And would you care for some supper? You could have it with me."

"That would be lovely."

The innkeeper looked very happy with her agreement and went back into the kitchen. While he was in the kitchen, Lady Marion noticed that the entire room was filled with hunting trophies. They were birds, mostly. All preserved and frozen. The lifelike quality of the things made her a little uncomfortable.

Then, she heard an old woman’s voice from the kitchen saying. “Absolutely, not! You can’t entertain strange women in here! I won’t have it!”

“But mother,” protested the innkeeper’s voice. “She’s not a strange woman. She’s our guest.” Then, he came out with a plate for Lady Marion.

“Have I caused you some trouble?” asked Lady Marion.

“It’s just my mother,” said Bates dismissively. “She’s a little ill. Eat.”

“Thank you,” said Lady Marion taking a bite of cold beef. Then, trying to change the subject, she asked, “Do you enjoy hunting?”

“No,” said the innkeeper with some alarm. “My hobby is stuffing things. And I like birds. I guess because they’re so passive to begin with. Something big like a deer or a bear. . .I could never do that.” He sighed. “It’s a simple enough hobby. And it’s the only thing I really have time for, between this inn and my mother.”

Lady Marion began to feel sorry for this fellow. After all, he was rather young. He ought to have been out courting ladies. “Do you have any friends?” she asked.

“A boy’s best friend is his mother,” he said definitively.

“Your mother sounds like such a problem.”

“Well, maybe. But she’s harmless. She’s as harmless as well. . .as harmless as one of these stuffed birds.” He smiled a little bit as if that were a joke.

Lady Marion sighed. “Well, thank you for the dinner. I suppose I should be getting to bed. I need to leave early tomorrow.”

“Of course. Is there anything else I can get you before you retire?”

Lady Marion was about to decline, but then she thought of how hot and dusty the road had been that day. “The hour is a bit late,” she said, “but I notice that you have a bathtub out back. I don’t suppose you could. . .”

Bates seemed to become both astonished and excited at the same time. “Would you like me to draw you a bath?”

“If it is not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all, my lady. I will get right to work heating the water, and while I do that you can. . .well, you can. . .”

“I can undress,” said Lady Marion amused by his prudishness.

Bates’ face turned bright red as he went outside. Lady Marion undressed and wrapped herself in a long blanket for her modesty. Then, she went to the bathtub, which by then was filled with steaming water. Bates was nowhere in sight, so she stepped into the tub and sighed with relief as the hot water rushed over her. She felt better now, it was like the water was washing away, not just the dirt and the sweat, but the stain which she had felt on her soul ever since she rode out with all that money.
She was just thinking about all this when she turned and saw an old gray haired woman standing over the tub with a gleaming knife.
It was the last thing she ever saw.

* * *

Sir William was tending to his horse when a woman came riding up to his house. Sir William, recognized her as his sweetheart’s sister, Vera.

“Vera,” he said with a smile. “Good to see you. Do you bring a message from Marion?”

Vera did not return the smile. “Do you know where Marion is, William?”

“Well, no. The last time I saw her was when I visited your kingdom. And that was over a fortnight ago. Why do you ask?”

Before Vera could respond, a voice said. “I think what the lady meant to ask, was do you know the location of a certain 40,000 gold crowns?”

The two turned to see a tall lean man stepping out of the shadows towards them. “Greetings,” he said with a smile. “I suppose introductions are in order. My name is Pendergast. I am a confidant of his majesty. The king employs me to handle matters which he feels are a bit too delicate for the official law enforcement.” He smiled and looked at William. “A certain Lady Marion vanished from the court while entrusted with 40,000 gold crowns. Apparently, this sister’s theory, which, incidentally, she neglected to share with the authorities, was that Marion had ideas about using the money to run off with you.” He looked at Vera. “Is that correct?”

“Well, something like that,” Vera admitted.

Pendergast looked back at William. “Another advantage of dealing with me rather than the officials is that the king has given me the authority to recover the money discreetly, if possible, and forget that the unpleasant affair occurred. Whereas, if a member of the guard catches her, he will be duty bound to involve the magistrates, who would be probably be duty bound to hang her. I have no duty, whatsoever, except to recover that gold. Do I make myself clear.”

“Quite clear,” said William who was beginning to dislike this person quite a bit. “But the fact is that I know nothing about where Marion or that money is now.”

“Very well,” said Pendergast. “You force me to do things the hard way. But I will find her. Never fear.”

***

But twenty four hours later, Pendergast was not so sure of himself. He had traveled the entire route between Northland and Eastland, checking at every inn, tavern, and even some monasteries and nunneries, but he had not found any trace of Lady Marion. He was almost ready to quit when he came to the Bates Inn.

“Hello,” he called out.

“Greetings,” said innkeeper Bates. “Would you like a room?”

“No,” said Pendergast, “but I was wondering if you could help me find someone who may have stopped here.”

Bates looked nervous. “Understand sir, nobody has stopped here for quite some time.”

“Well, may I have a look at your guestbook?”

Bates let Pendergast read the guestbook. “Ah, a Lady stopped here about two weeks ago. That sounds like her.”

“Oh yes,” said Bates. “I remember her now. She came in late at night, went right to bed, and left first thing in the morning.”

Pendergast looked at Bates. “My dear fellow. Did you spend the night with her?”

“Of course not,” said Bates.

“Then, how do you know she went right to bed?”

“Oh,” said Bates. “Well. . .Let me see. . .I’m remembering now. I am making a picture in my head—You know, sometimes if one makes pictures in one’s head that can help one’s memory—She said she was going straight to bed.”

There was a pause. Bates spoke first. “Well,” he said, “if you don’t mind, Mr. Pendergast, I am a busy man.”

“Well,” said Pendergast, “I think I do mind. You see, your story seems a bit strange. Does anyone else reside here?”

“No,” well, “actually my mother, and she’s an invalid. It feels like living alone.”

“Could I speak to your mother?”

“She would not be able to help you.”

Pendergast decided that it was time to get frank. “Look, sir, if the Lady Marion were here, you would not be made a fool of, would you? You would not let her convince you to hide her.”

“I am not a fool,” said Bates.

“Of course not. But I just wonder if –“

“Let me put it to you this way, Mr. Pendergast. She may very well have fooled me, but she did not fool my mother.”

* * *

“Well,” said Pendergast when he saw Vera and William again, “I have some good news. I do not believe that William knows anything about what happened to Lady Marion. But she did travel in his direction. She stopped at a Bates Inn. “

“That’s not much of a clue,” said William.

“No,” Pendergast admitted, “but I believe there might be more to it. I want to go back to that inn and speak to the mother of that innkeeper. I will tell you when I know more.”

Pendergast returned to the inn late that night. This time, he did not bother to knock, hoping he would meet Bates’ mother without Bates. It was dark inside. “Hello,” he called out, “Mrs. Bates?”

Just then a figure appeared out of the shadows. It was an old woman with a gray wig, holding a gleaming knife. . .

* * *

When Pendergast did not return, both Vera and William began to worry. “There is something definitely wrong here,” said Vera.

William suggested that they talk to the Sheriff of that county.

The Sheriff was a friendly old man, who welcomed them into his home, but when they told him about Pendergast and how he had said that he was going to visit the Bates Inn to speak with the mother of Innkeeper Bates, he frowned. “That makes very little sense,” he said.

“Why do you say that?” asked William. “Is there not a Bates Inn in this county?”

“Oh yes,” said the Sheriff. “I know the Bates Inn and I know Innkeeper Bates, although I seldom hear from him anymore. He is a rather private person, but his mother. . .Well, she is dead and buried these seven years.”

Vera turned white. “Are you sure?”

“Quite. If you like, I can take you to the cemetery and show you her grave.”

As the two left the sheriff’s house, Vera looked at William. “There is only thing to do here. We need to go to that inn and find out what happened ourselves.”

* * *

The two arrived at the inn where Innkeeper Bates met and greeted them and showed them a room.

Lady Vera whispered, “Could you distract Bates while I look around? Maybe I can find the mother.”

William nodded and met the innkeeper in the common area. “My Lady is sleeping,” he said. “So how do you feel about the King’s latest policy. “

“I don’t follow politics much myself,” said Bates with some suspicion.

William tried to keep Bates talking for a few minutes longer, but then Bates looked at the room he had rented the couple. “Your lady is gone!” he cried. “ William tried to stop him, but he pushed William over, and ran to the back of the inn.

* * *

At the back of the inn, Lady Vera saw someone sitting in a chair. It looked like an old woman with gray hair. “Hello,” she said. “Mrs. Bates?”

The person did not respond. The Lady Vera got closer and tapped her on the shoulder. The woman seemed light and Lady Vera was able to turn her around.

Then, she let out a scream, because the “woman” was nothing more than a dead corpse. At that moment, another figure entered the room. It was wearing a dress and gray wig identical to the mother’s but it was clearly alive and brandishing a gleaming knife.

Fortunately for the Lady Vera, William rushed in and tackled the figure to the ground. The wig fell off, and both were astonished to see that it was not an old woman, but a young man, namely the innkeeper Bates.

* * *

Several hours later, Vera and William sat in a royal infirmary where a leech was examining Bates. “Well,” said the leech sadly. “I doubt much can be done for him. I opened his skull to let out some fluid, and I just bringing a priest here to perform an exorcism, but he is pretty far past help.”

“Did he kill my sister?” asked Vera.

“Yes, but I doubt he could help it. You see, when his mother died, he did not take it well. First, he stole her body, stuffed it, and pretended it was alive. But that was not enough. So he started dressing like her and pretending to be her. Even speaking with her voice.” The leech paused. “It was not really Bates that killed your sister or that agent for the king either. It was his mother.”


Note: In case you haven't already figured it out, this is a Medieval retelling of the film, Psycho.