Behind the Scenes

There have always been spies.

They are sometimes people who believe wholeheartedly in the cause of the one for whom they glean information. Sometimes it is merely for the remuneration, be it goods or coin. Sometimes it is to have a secret kept, to receive favor or in lieu of payment of debts. This spy worked for the latter. He was from one of the higher branches of the Bolger family tree. Indeed it would only take the death of Adalbert Bolger, the sole heir of the current head of the family, to put him next in line to be head of the clan. But he had no such dreams in his head. His only concern was that it might become known that he had squandered his personal fortune gambling in the pubs and inns of the Shire. He was heavily in debt to the secretary of the Master of Buckland.

He sat in the secretary’s office , clutching nervously at a package wrapped in plain paper.

“Well, what is it that was so important that you took me away from my card game?” The secretary’s tone made it quite obvious that he was irked.

“This.” A shaking hand proffered the package. “I . . . I managed to purchase it from a booth at the Harvest Festival. There weren’t very many copies. You . . . You’re lucky I managed to get one.”

The Master’s secretary smiled. His father, who had held this post until his death, would have been proud of the way the young Bolger was squirming. He calmly took the package.

The spy hurried on as the secretary unwrapped the parcel. “’Caused quite a stir, the young Brandybuck did. Spoke up quite boldly, all about the Travellers and Shire history. It seemed something that might be of interest to you, since it got the crowd so riled.”

The secretary’s pulse quickened with the information his spy was providing. He ripped off the rest of the paper and stared at the thick brown leather book. “The Travellers: The Reintroduction of the Truth” by Jebbin Brandybuck was boldly embossed across the cover in gold letters.

“Thank you. You may go now.”

The spy started to say something but swallowed it back. He stood, bobbed his head to the Master’s secretary, then hurried from the room.

Longo Caskbury glared at the book in his hands. The gold letters shone like fire, reflecting in his dark eyes. Just how much did Jebbin Brandybuck know?

*******

Bellflower Took enter Tollo Grittison’s office with her usual flourish, her curls, ribbons and flounces all bouncing. She was carrying a somewhat large, garish bag. She closed, and bolted, the door behind her.

“I bought something for you at the Festival, my naughty Ducky.”

Tollo gritted his teeth. He despised being called “Ducky”, but he was smiling as he looked up at her.

“Naughty, my love?”

“Of course! You didn’t come with me to the Festival, Ducky dear.” She sat her narrow bottom on the corner of his desk.

“I don’t think my wife would have approved, Sweetums.”

Bellflower giggled. She always giggled. Tollo hated that giggle.

“You worry too much, Ducky. You could have said you had to attend on Thain’s business and the wee mouse would have been content. Then you could have listened to the daft Brandybuck at the Festival blathering about Shire history and bought this great, heavy, worthless book for yourself. Oops!” she said, while dramatically covering her mouth with her limp-wristed hand. “I went and said what it is.”

“Shire history, Sugarplum?” Suddenly the simpering, homely lass had his full attention.

“Yes, and completely dull. I tried reading a bit of it on the ride home, but there wasn’t any romance in it all. Just boring drivel about Mad Bilbo Baggins and the Travellers.” She held out her right hand to look at her nails. “The Brandybuck had the crowd all stirred up blabbing on about “the truth”. Everyone was all a-buzz with it the rest of the day.” Bellflower leaned well forward to tickle him under his chin, intentionally displaying what bosom she had. “You do always enjoy it when I bring back the latest gossip to you.” She leaned closer. “And they say only old gammers love gossip. We could give them plenty to gossip about, couldn’t we, Ducky my pet. Maybe I shouldn’t let you have your present until you’ve made it up to me that you didn’t come along.” Her bosom was scant inches from Tollo’s face. “I did bolt the door.”

Thain Adenbras’ secretary had learned well from his father, who had been secretary to the Thain before him. Tollo performed his penance and a contented Bellflower left him to peruse his present.

Some spies don’t realize they are spies.