|
|
|
He kicked the itchy sheets off of his bed and stood upright in his room as the world outside his window carried on with its daily grind. Slipping on the icy wooden floorboards, he fell backwards onto his dressing table and knocked his wine glass onto the floor. He cursed under his breath and started to clear up the shattered glass, carefully brushing it into his bedpan. “Your soup’s done mister” Came a weak voice from his door, the kitchen boy having snuck in to hand him his morning meal. “I would appreciate hearing a knock next time son” Came a sharp reply as the irate, sleepy man stared squinting at the door. The boy rushed away after placing the bowl upon a shelf, leaving the door slightly ajar. Heinsfell finished cleaning his mess and tipped the content of his bedpan down the toilet before returning to eat his steaming bowl of rabbit and carrot stew. The meat was stringy and the carrot was too soft, but after a few days without much to eat, it felt good enough as it sat heavy on his gut. He made his way to the coat stand and took down his sheathed sword, hanging it around his waist and hoisting his chest plate up from the floor. When he was fully dressed, he went down to the inn below to talk to the keeper of the house, asking the man for a glass of rum before he made way to the village centre. In the middle of the square stood the preacher, chanting his constant prayers unto the men and women who passed him. As Heinsfell passed, the man stared and held out his open palm as if asking for something. “God shines upon you my son” He proclaimed as Heinsfell stared at his empty, blistered palm. “Maybe so brother but I don’t need to be reminded who I work for.” With which the priest went back to his painfully loud oratory. Heinsfell grumbled to himself as he stepped away into the shuffling crowds of the marketplace. Approaching his favourite stand, he glanced around to the ornate wares spread across the old mans pitch. “I see you’ve been rummaging again good sir?” Heinsfell laughed out with a smile. The man looked up and grinned as he recognised his favourite customer. “Not seen you these past few days, been busy hunting faeries?” to which the crowd around giggled quietly. “Oh same old wit? Well no, I have been a bit busy with a local girl for your information, so none too far wrong aye?” Bouncing back from such a statement, the old man whipped a big smile and waved a finger broadly at the Witch hunter. “Found yourself a lass then my lad? Planning on settling down anytime soon? Maybe have a few little demons of your own running about” To which Heinsfell cackled a bit and rolled his eyes. “Oh you’re always so full of ideas. No it’s just good to act as a bit of a shoulder every now and then. You know, damsel in distress”. The men fell silent as they ended their chuckle, only for a large built man to rudely remark about getting into the girls dress. Heinsfell simply winced a side wards glance and spat. “Crudeness aside, I’m curious as to what you’ve found in your travels old man, mind if I peruse your wares?” The man winked and held his hand aloft to shake, before hastily waving his hand over his carpet and back to his chest. “Certainly not my son, hope you find something of interest.” With that, Heinsfell was crouched and shuffling his hand through the pile of metal trinkets, shreds of cloth and pots and pans. Picking up a small sheathe, he stared excitedly over its leather straps and delicate form and pulled free the gleaming blade. Running it carefully down his thumb, he blinked as it easily slid through his flesh. Flashing the old man a childish, bright-eyed smile, he pulled out a small, rattling pouch and held the knife and bag in his palm to show the old man, never being one to ask such questions. “Oh I don’t know about that my lad, I think that blade is easily worth at least 5 pieces and a good, firm handshake, don’t you?” Heinsfell gave a wide smile as he took 5 of the smaller silver pieces from his bag and shook his hand as he had every other visit. He patted the man on the back and made his way off to the next stall, his personal food cart he considered it. He walked, teasing his new blade around his fingers, twisting and flipping it with the same perfect precision as any artists brush. He found a place for the beautiful sheathe inside his sleeve. He neared the little wooden frame of the stand and waited for the boy who served. Eyeing up the fresh food up on the wooden shelves behind the stand, he spotted a particularly nice looking bowl of spiced chicken legs. “Oh, can I help you sir?” Came a sharp voice from the doorway to the kitchens. A large woman walked out and addressed Heinsfell with demanding eyes. “I was just looking, thanks. Although I am tempted by those chicken legs, what’ve they been cooked in?” The woman glanced over at the shelves, looked back, finishes cleaning the bowl in her hands and walked back inside without answering. Heinsfell looked bemused to the elderly lady beside him, who briefly shrugged and walked off muttering. “Oh yes.. That’s why I love this place…” He muttered to himself moments before the lady returned. “Just been peppered and cooked up with some rum, a piece and ounce if you’re buying, if not, clear off, I have hungry customers” Bewildered at her attitude, he took out a piece and got himself some for his walk. Cursing under his breath, he departed, leaving the woman to her empty shop as he chewed the suprisingly tasteless morsels.
The local priory had asked him visit to bless a new member, so he decided to take the long route around his town, having never been too keen on the groups of peasants who worshipped to such extents. He neared the inn he had been staying in for months before seeing the tall wooden framework of the building down the end of his street. The buildings of this place all looked the same, identical slanted timber supports with a plain clay and hay wall around, the roofs, all with their identical slated tiles, made amazing shows when it rained, flashes of light and colour with every drop. Heinsfell cursed the day he ever set his head down in this place, the day-to-day work of initiating and communicating to the locals bored him beyond expression, but until the next plague hit, he could do little else while he still wore his cross.
The ceremony was always simple, a splash of water on the face, a reading of some holy lines and a quick prayer. And, while it was his duty, Heinsfell resented the fact the people felt the need to go through such things to follow their god. He had always felt that true love and devotion is from within rather than in ceremony, his main reason for not attending prayers en-masse.
His day had been short, waking late after a night making sure his lady was secure in her home after an attack nights before. Unable to live together because of his social standing, he had to resort to only seeing her at nightfall and being back to his bed before dawn. And, though he had to remain somewhat detached, he made sure she did not go without his attentions for long. This night was no different, he made his way to the inn he stayed at to drink alone until midnight, then he would take his usual stroll past the fishing lake and finally make his way around the outskirts to her quarters, a small building in the more unpleasant part of the town. As he strolled up to her door, he heard a muffled scream, his mind flashed to a few nights prior; invaders, this part of town being notorious for rape and thieves, had nearly assaulted her. He twisted the doorknob, finding it jammed tight from the other side. In rage he slammed his fist into the side of the door, hearing a thud as something fell from the other side. He booted the bottom corner and saw a chair fly across the floor inside. He swung the door round and looked to see if she was downstairs. Finding no one, he moved like a flash to the bottom of the stairs, hearing yet more muffled screaming he made his way up the creaking steps, trying to not alert anyone to his presence. He neared the top of the stairs and saw her bedroom door open, a dark shadow against the hallway showing two figures struggling. Running to the doorway he found her on her bed, tied up and naked, sheets barely covering her small figure. She looked upon him as he entered with such an expression of adoration as to light up his heart, clearly he had gotten to her soon enough. He looked sternly at the men in her room and felt an instant flicker of fury wash over him. He realised in his hast that he was unarmed, and so brought a swift fist into the face of one of the men, he could feel his nose give way beneath his knuckle. The second man attempted to jump onto Heinsfells back, but was dislodged as he backed into the shelf storing the woman’s bedpan. The empty bowl smashed over his head, disorientating him for Heinsfell to place a heavy boot in his crotch. The first man pulled a knife from his shirt, the shining metal flashed quickly past Heinsfells face a few times, the woman screamed every time it flew close. In reaction, Heinsfell remembered the leather sheathe in his sleeve and pulled the wicked blade free. Seeing it shine, the first man took a more daring leap out of the bedroom window, leaving his accomplice to beg for his life. The woman was freed, and the ties that bound her were used to hang the man by his balls from her window. The other man failed to land his dive and was found below, his neck broken by his bad decision, having landed face down in a very solid puddle of mud. While he lived, his body was unmoving; Heinsfell pulled the man from the mud and laid him down only to see the panicked look in his eyes. Feeling mercy for him, Heinsfell carried him to the church carefully in his arms, leaving him to the attention of the physicians. When he arrived back at his ladies home, he saw stuck a heavy middle finger up at the man dangling, screaming, from her window. ‘Such mercy cannot be spared for all’ He thought to himself. And when he reached her room, he found her under her sheets awaiting him.
With a gently spoken “Come, cover me” from her soft red lips, he closed the door and put out the lights.
Nocturnal parasite · Wed Jun 24, 2009 @ 04:11am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|