by Bryan Smith
Besides a few ordinary folk, a wandering minstrel was also present in the gardens. Dressed in various shades of brown he strummed his lute and was singing a song. The music was pleasant and he sang what to me sounded like:
‘...from Lindlebrook she came, ‘pon the back of a great durghwolf, with a magnificent black mane...’
I wasn’t sure who the song was about or why a durghwolf was mentioned, but it was a pleasant song. I shielded my eyes from the sun, and let the lute music wash over me.
Foolishly, I fell asleep.
* * *
‘There he is—the Southwick Peacock.’
Those were the words that aroused me from my slumber. I bolted upright hoping to catch sight of the peacock the people were speaking of, until I realised it was me they were pointing to.
Apparently I was the ‘Southwick Peacock’.
Four angry-looking men approached, and behind them I noticed the curly red locks of Breetria. One of the men was Santo, but the other three I didn’t recognise. I realised this probably wasn’t going to be a friendly encounter and so got to my feet. The men stomped closer and stopped when they were five paces away.
I asked them what the dispute was. I had already promised to pay my debt once I had travelled back to Redstone. You and I know it was a lie, but they didn’t know, so what did they want? I’ll quote the words of a large brute of a man. He was stood a few inches over six-feet, had slick black hair, and his words were:
‘My dispute? You want to know what my dispute is? I’ll tell you. This morning I come back from a trading voyage to Yataxatay and what do I find?’
I shrugged.
‘I find a bright green peacock has strutted into Southwick, with his puffed out chest and shiny armour saying he had lost his purse and cannot pay for food and lodgings...’
By this time, my face was burning bright red.
‘My wife and her father dutifully feed him and give him a bed to sleep in; with the understanding he’d repay their debt...’
Did he just say ‘wife’?
‘...and what happens?’
I swallowed hard, and was sure my face was now as white as the peak of a mountain.
‘In the middle of the night the Southwick Peacock tries to force himself on my wife. Yes, you heard right everybody. That man there, Thobias, tried to force himself upon my sweet, loyal, and loving wife. That’s my dispute!’
What could I say to that? You and I know that wasn’t how things unfolded, but I couldn’t exactly confess all. Would he believe my name was really Aydin, an unemployed cheese-man? Could I convince him I stole this armour and sword from a dead soldier? Could I expect him take my word that his ‘sweet, loyal, and loving wife’ propositioned me?
The unhappy husband drew his sword. Santo waved around a rusty meat cleaver, and the two other men slipped small knives from concealed pockets. Now when I say ‘small knives’, I’m talking about knives with four-inch blades—and yes those are going to hurt!
‘Pick up your sword soldier, and let’s see how you Jade Guards are in a real fight.’
I lifted my green-hilted sword from the grass, and it trembled in my hands. My palms and fingers were sweaty making it difficult for me to slide the weapon from its scabbard. The men glanced at each other with confused expressions, and so being the brave soldier I wasn’t—I made a run for it.
Naturally Breetria screamed, and the men gave chase.
After vaulting the low stone wall around the edge of the gardens, I ran to a small building. My choice of refuge was a building with a heavy oak door and two small windows at the front. The windows were so small a child wouldn’t be able to climb through let alone the brutes chasing me. Hiding inside the building would buy me a small amount of time. I dived inside and bolted the door. I pressed my weight back against it. Beneath my breath I muttered a quick prayer to the gods. I wasn’t sure how much time I would have, but every breath I could take—was a gift.
The interior of the building was sparsely furnished. There was an oak desk piled high with books and parchments. I glanced at the cover of one book and it had two words on the front, ‘Nominal Ledger’. I didn’t know what that meant, and I suppose it doesn’t matter. Beside the books were ink vials and a plate with crumbs on it. I assumed the occupant had popped outside for some reason. My knees were knocking when the men banged on the door. They shouted there was no escape, and I was a ‘dead man walking’, but how can a dead man walk? I decided not to ask the angry fellows, but instead wait for the occupant to return—maybe he or she would know.
It was on the return of the building’s occupant that my fate now rested. Perhaps whoever resided here would summon the Royal Watchers and save me from having to endure a painful and untimely death. At thirty-three summers of age, I’m close to the age of that poor soldier in the ditch, and far too young to die.
There was a crash sounding from the rear of the building. Santo and Breetria’s husband loomed into view. The other two men were still banging on the other side of the front door. I was cornered, like a lamb surrounded by wolves, and now had to face the consequences. I’ll relate to you a bizarre and brief exchange between the father and his son-in-law:
‘This is the second time this has happened,’ said the father. ‘At closing time last night I spoke to another tavern owner. It turns out that two days ago a Jade Army soldier tried to force himself on a serving girl at his premises.’
‘Is this the same man?’ the son-in-law asked.
‘No, a group of them caught him. They rendered him unconscious and threw him into a ditch between here and Redstone.’
‘This peacock deserves the same fate,’ said Breetria’s husband, as they closed in on me. ‘Tonight we’ll throw him in the same ditch.’
As you can see, this was a horrible twist of fate.
From what I could tell, the man I borrowed the armour from had done what I’m now accused of doing. What cursed luck I possessed to steal the armour of a man of ill repute, and now I’m likely to die beside him.
Two lessons are to be learnt from my imminent demise: Firstly, do not become a cheese-man; the pay is poor and your status is low. Secondly, if you’re ever tempted to pretend to be more than you are, then remember the fate of the Southwick Peacock.
- The End -
I hope you enjoyed this little story.
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If you’d like to check out more of my stories, please follow the link to my website: www.bryanswaffles.com
