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Author Topic: Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered--Chapter Seven  (Read 4169 times)

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Online Evie

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Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered--Chapter Seven
« on: June 06, 2011, 11:23:52 am »
   Chapter Seven

   June 8, 1134
   Levington Castle, Barony of Levington


   “Was your daughter in the habit of wearing any particular piece of jewelry or some other token which might help identify her?”  I was closeted with Lord Garulf, Baron of Levington, the man on whose behalf Kelson had sent for me.

   The baron gave the question a bit of thought.  “She was probably wearing her signet ring.”  He showed me the one he wore on his right hand.  “It was of the same style as mine, only of course with the mark of cadency of an eldest daughter on the heraldic arms, and hers was on a lozenge rather than on an escutcheon.”

   I visualized the piece of jewelry he referred to.  In truth, it wasn't difficult; even as he was describing it to me, I was subtly drawing forth a mental image of it from his mind.  In the same way, I had already seen and committed to memory a vivid impression of his missing daughter Jennet.  She should be easy enough to recognize, I figured, if only I could manage to track her down.  Fortunately I had some ideas about how to do that, given that my total payment for this mission was in large part dependent on my success in achieving that goal.  Kelson had provided a small purse of coin for my immediate needs in locating the runaway heiress, but the rest of the retainer would be paid for by the baron himself, and only upon the safe delivery of his daughter back into his loving care.  Or, at the very least, more information about her whereabouts than anyone already possessed.

   I gave a few moments of thought to phrasing my next question, wanting to approach the subject as delicately as possible.  “You wouldn't happen to have any suspicion already about where she might have run off to...or why?”

   The baron frowned slightly.  “No idea where, really, or I'd not be hiring you.  I'd thought maybe she'd run off to her aunt Zelda's manor—she's my sister—but I sent a messenger there straightaway, and they've seen no sign of her.  As to why she's run off, she and I have had...ah...you might call it a difference of opinion.”

   “I see.  Might I inquire what the disagreement was about?  It might be relevant.”

   The baron's frown grew.  “I can't imagine how it would be, but we quarreled over her upcoming marriage.”

   “Ah.  You don't approve of her suitor?”

   “Oh no, quite the opposite!  I chose him, but for some reason the chit thinks he won't suit.  Women!”

   I worked up a sympathetic smile.  “Maidenly shyness and all that?”

   He snorted.  “I suppose.  She'd best get over it, though.  He's certainly the best offer she's likely to get.  Wealthy, titled, with lands directly on my eastern border, and to top it all off, he’s been a close friend of mine for simply ages.  We ride hunts together whenever we get the chance.  You'd think she'd be thrilled!”

   “You'd think.”  I didn't mention that I could easily think of several objections a woman might have for a suitor, no matter how wealthy or titled he might be, or close to the family nest, or chummy with her father.  It wasn't too hard for me to stretch my mind for reasons, given my eldest sister's recent escape from a disastrous marriage that, on the surface of things, had appeared to be an ideal match, but which we later discovered had been a living hell for her.  “And just in case your sister's messenger left her home only a short while before your daughter's arrival there, where is her manor?”

   “Only ten miles northeast of here.  But as I said, you won't find her there.  Zelda has been sending me daily reports.”

   That seemed an unlikely refuge, then.  “Any close friends she might have turned to? A foster sister, perhaps, or if she was convent-schooled, a friend from those days?”

   He looked at me as if I'd grown an extra head.  “Hell, no!  She's not going to be a nun; why would I send her to a convent school?”

   Why indeed?  For an education, mayhap?  I bit back the sarcasm.  It would be counterproductive to getting any answers out of the man.

   “One more thing.  Would there be anything up in her chambers—some favorite article of clothing, perhaps, or maybe an item she was especially fond of—which she might have left behind in her haste to leave?  If so, I might find it useful.”

   He stared at me curiously.  “How?”

   It wasn't an answer I felt inclined to answer truthfully, but thankfully an early mental probe of the baron had proven to my satisfaction that he wouldn't be able to Truth-Read me.  “There's a possibility I might be able to narrow down my search to the point that a trained dog might prove useful.”

   The answer seemed to satisfy him.  I thought it might; if naught else, I figured he'd be able to grasp the concept of a more literal hunt for his daughter easily enough.  He shrugged.  “You can go upstairs and look if you like.”  He turned to his steward.  “Berthold, show Sir Sextus to my daughter's chambers.”

   Berthold, it turned out, ended up being an even more useful source of information.  By the time I left Castle Levington, I had several of the maiden's more treasured trinkets in my possession as well as a decent list of leads where I might begin my search.

#

   I decided to find a private area to set up camp that evening.  What I had in mind was not the sort of thing that could easily be done in an inn, where a man traveling alone might well be asked to share not just a room but even a bed with a total stranger or five if the rooms were full up, or else be charged exorbitant prices if he insisted on complete privacy and an empty room happened to be available.  Nor could I seek a pallet in the comfort of some monastic dormitory for similar reasons.  Even now, with Deryni/human tensions easing considerably, many a monk or priest was still uncomfortable with open displays of magic.  It had, after all, still been considered anathema less than a decade ago.  Many clergy had issues with it even now, despite any reassurances Archbishops Bradene or Cardiel might have given regarding the proper uses of Deryni powers.  A more open-minded priest might with good conscience allow that it was not evil to simply be Deryni or even to use certain inborn abilities such as Truth-Reading or the Healers' gift, yet still have trouble accepting more arcane uses of our powers out of misunderstanding or ignorance of what such rituals and mysteries entailed.  So some completely secluded area would serve best for my purposes.

   I found shelter just a short distance from the road I’d been traveling, at the base of a stony outcropping in a forested area, next to a briskly flowing stream.  Here I set up a warded area to cloak my horse, my bedroll and the campfire, giving the illusion to any passers-by who might leave the nearby path that there was nothing out of the ordinary to see in this location.  I could see through the wards, so I would know if someone happened to approach closer, yet they would see nothing more than stone, earth, sky and trees reflected back to them—exactly what they expected to see.  It wasn’t a foolproof illusion—there was the faintest chance that some random traveler might wander off the trail and walk straight into the invisible barrier around me, rebounding off the unseen dome.  And should it chance to rain, the sight of raindrops pelting an empty dome of space might appear rather odd.  But I’d taken every precaution to make certain the chance of anyone happening upon me in the first place was virtually nil.
  
   My horse, quite used to such strange behavior from me, casually started nibbling at a tuft of grass, unfazed by the dome of energy overhead.  I tended to his needs first before washing my hands in the stream and starting in on my own meal.

   Once I'd eaten my travel fare, I was ready to begin.  Sitting cross-legged on my makeshift bed, I stared into the bonfire, focusing my concentration.  In one hand, I held a necklace that belonged to Jennet de Levington.  It was not a very costly trinket, but it had once belonged to her mother, so the baron's daughter had valued it nonetheless.  I was somewhat surprised the maiden had not taken it with her, though perhaps she had simply counted on returning home someday, once she was in less danger of being married off to her unwanted suitor.

   The wooden beads were smooth as glass, well polished by years of wear and handling.  As I meditated on the feel of them between my fingertips, my mind's eye saw an image in the flames.  It was a woman's face, smiling back at me.

   Not the right woman.  No, she was probably the late baroness.  I stifled a sigh and allowed myself to sink deeper into the trance.

#

   In the end, it had not been the string of prayer beads nor my attempt to scry for the lass using a shiral crystal which had proven to be the most useful source of information, but the tiny book of wax tablets Berthold had slipped into my pouch as I was getting ready to leave.  It contained four words.  “Try Desse.  Green Barrel.”

   Curious.  I wondered if perhaps the maiden had had an ally in her flight from the familial nest.  Though if Berthold had helped Lady Jennet run away, why was he now helping me try to fetch her back?  Or was this just a simple hunch he had, and if so, what was it based on?

   But my gut said Desse was as good a place to start my search as any.  Besides, it had been some time since I'd had a drink or three at the Barrel.  Maybe this time I could spend an evening there without some drunken fool trying to wipe the bar counter with my face.  That had been unpleasant, though more so for him than for me, since at the time I'd been far more sober than I'd appeared to be.  I'd punched his lights out, ordered another ale for the road, and made my way back to Rhemuth and then home to Tre-Arilan none the worse for wear aside from some spectacular bruising which drew surprisingly little comment from the family.  They were still reeling from my sister Jashana's news that she'd somehow managed to net a Llyrian prince and was seriously considering not tossing him back into the pool.

   Desse was also not all that far distant.   Even a maiden unaccustomed to hard travel could make the journey to that port city in just under a day, if traveling on foot; much sooner if she’d managed to catch a ride on some pedlar’s wagon who was carting his wares to a more populous market.  The route was fairly well traveled and safe enough as country roads went.  It seemed a logical place for a runaway to head to; from there, she could hire transport up or down the river Eirian if she were so minded, or she could blend in with the larger population to be found in such a port town.  Well, perhaps not blend in very seamlessly, given her gentle birth and upbringing, not to mention her striking appearance, but I was rather counting on that.  A pampered and sheltered noblewoman finding herself loosed upon the world at large for the first time shouldn't be so very difficult to track down.

   Hopefully, if she’d headed for Desse, she’d not decided to leave it yet.  It might be harder to track her down if she’d decided to take ship for some more distant port just as soon as she’d arrived, though I could still follow her trail with a bit of asking around after her at the docks.  A beautiful, young highborn maiden traveling without a chaperone and seeking passage would definitely have drawn notice.  Lady Jennet might have been the flighty sort, but unless her father’s memories of her had somehow grown greatly exaggerated, she would have caught most men’s eyes easily enough.  That, of course, presented its own problems.  Desse was hardly the safest town for a young woman to wander around in without a guardian.  Hopefully the more ruffianly sorts would have the good sense to recognize her noble breeding and leave well enough alone long enough for me to haul her, most likely kicking and screaming, back to her father’s hall where she belonged.   Then again, if they had spotted her as a noble right off, chances are they’d have sent a ransom note to Levington already.

#
   

   June 9, 1134
   The Green Barrel, Desse


   She proved to be ridiculously easy to find.  I could only assume that Saint Catulina had been watching over her.  Either her or Saint Simplicius.  The chit was at the Green Barrel after all.  How had Berthold known she would be?  I’d spotted her just as soon as I entered the dive and my eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight outside to the more dimly lit surroundings indoors.  With her flaming red curls, she was quite difficult to miss.  It also didn’t hurt that she walked directly up to my table.

   “What kin I offar ya, luv?”  It was clear enough that she was trying to affect the accent of the local citizenry, even clearer that her attempt wasn’t very successful.  She might fool someone from across the Kingdom, but not anyone born within spitting distance of Desse, unless he were a deaf man.  It was also apparent she’d not worked as a barmaid in this seedy neighborhood for very long, not with an opening line like that.  Either that, or the baron’s daughter was far less innocent than her father believed her to be.  

   “That depends on what you’ve got on offer, lovely.  When’s your shift over?”

   She blushed crimson once she worked out my meaning.  It took her several puzzled seconds.  Good, then, the baron needn’t add his daughter’s virtue to his growing list of worries.

   “I meant, goodman, will you be having wine or ale, or mayhap some of our fine stew?”  I noticed her assumed accent went on walkabout when she was flustered.

   “Ah, is that all?”  I shot her a teasing grin.  “Stew, then, and a pint of stout.”

   She disappeared into the kitchen, reappearing in a few minutes with a bowl of steaming stew and a tankard, setting both before me.  I glanced at her hands.  They were soft and pretty, showing no signs of having done hard labor, and one finger sported a ring that had been turned to show the band side up, as if it were a solid gold wedding band, though I suspected if I were to turn her hand palm-side up, I’d be greeted by a lozenge engraved with the heraldic arms of the Levington heiress.  I dug into my belt pouch and fished out a coin.  She automatically reached for it, but hesitated as she noticed what it was.  Her brow furrowed in confusion.  I’d placed a small gold coin in her hand rather than the expected silver or copper.

   “It’s a mark, goodman,” she explained nervously.  “Did you mean to offer me a penny?  It’s only three farthings a meal here, you see—two for the stew and one for the stout—and if you give me a penny, I can give you back a farthing in change.”

   “Oh, I know.”  I smiled reassuringly at her.  “I’m fresh out of pennies, though; can you change it out?”

   She bit her lip, looking baffled.  I suspected I knew why; doubtless she’d never had to handle her own coin.  She’d probably always had the bills of sale sent directly to the Levington steward to be paid out of the baronial coffers.

   I suppressed a chuckle.  “It’s eight pence to the royal, and of course four royals to the mark.  And, as you’ve just reminded me, there’s four farthings to a penny.  So if it’s a three farthing meal, you would owe me…?”

   She worked it out in her head.  “Three royals seven-pence and a farthing?”

   All right, so she wasn’t short on basic education or intelligence.  “That’s right, sweeting.”  I reached in my pouch again, pretending this time I’d just discovered a viceroyal handy.  “Or here, this will be easier for you to change instead.”  I took the mark back from her, offering her the silver coin in its place.  She took a second to work out that a viceroyal, being half the value of a royal, would be worth four pence.  Looking relieved, she reached into her own pouch, handing me three pence and a farthing in change.

   “You’re catching on,” I told her approvingly, sneaking a peek at the palm side of her fingers as she counted out the proper currency.  As I'd expected, the Levington arms with the eldest daughter's mark of cadency appeared on the hidden side of the ring.  “Haven’t worked here very long, have you?”

   Her cheeks flushed.  “Jus’ started taday,” she told me, her fake accent back on now that the currency conversion crisis was over.

   “Do you live here above the Green Barrel?”

   “I…well, no, it wouldn’t really be proper.”  Her cheeks grew slightly rosy.  

   I had to work to stifle a laugh.  So much of her current situation was improper, I failed to see how living above a tavern could possibly add to the awkwardness of her situation.  Well bred young noblewomen didn’t defy their father’s wills and run off from home without so much as a chaperone or guardian, much less secure positions as barmaids.  

   “So, where do you stay when you’re not working?”

   She looked at me warily.  “I probably ought not to tell you that.”  Good, then, she wasn’t quite as stupid a chit as her impulsive actions might indicate.

   “Quite right, I do apologize.”  I gave her a winning smile.  “It’s just that I’m newly arrived in Desse, see, and you’re the first friendly face I’ve seen all day.  I was hoping maybe we could have a tour of the town together after you’re done here…take in the sights and all that.  If you’d be willing to show me around, that is?”  As I spoke, I idly spun a coin on the tabletop before me.  Not one of too great a value, or she might worry that I meant to purchase her services for something more personal than a mere guide, but just high enough to tempt her into agreeing.  Baron Garulf hadn’t indicated that he’d noticed any money missing from his coffers after his daughter’s departure, nor had Berthold, nor could I imagine she’d have sought employment quite this soon if she had a full coin purse to fall back on, so I figured she’d not look askance at the offer of enough silver to pay for her next few meals.

   “I don’t know Desse well either,” she said slowly, watching the silver disk spin.  “I’ve only been here a few days myself.  But I suppose I could show you the few places I know.”

   “What time will you be free, then?”

   “When the church bells ring Vespers.”

   I smiled, stopping the coin’s spin.  Kelson’s face stared soberly up at me.  I pushed the silver across the table towards Jennet de Levington.

   “I’ll stop back by just before that, then.”

   The stew had cooled enough to eat, so I started in, making plans for that return visit as I enjoyed the noonday fare.

#

   “Nice looking horse,” Lady Jennet observed as I led her around to the stables once she'd ended her shift.  “Does he bite?”

   “Not unless you're an apple,” I told her, slipping a coin into the ostler's hand.  “Feel free to introduce yourself to him, if you like.  His name is Murray.”  

   One of the grooms assisted her up onto the pillion behind me.  She patted my mount tentatively.  “Is he a courser?”

   I grinned.  “No, he's a rouncey, but feel free to call him a courser; you'll be his friend for life.”  I reached forward to pat Murray's neck fondly.  “I do have a courser, but I rarely ride him to Desse.”

   “Why not?”

   The ostler opened the gate, and we moved forward, Murray ambling out into the busy street at a leisurely walk.  I chuckled at the lady's question.  “Because Nightshadow is more valuable, and I'd prefer to still have my favorite warhorse when I've left off the night's drinking.  This end of Desse isn't the best neighborhood, or have you not been working here long enough to have noticed that yet?”

   “I thought you were newly arrived in town?” she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion behind me.

   “Oh, I am...this visit, anyway.”  I glanced over my shoulder at her with a grin.  “So, my fair flower, where shall we begin our tour?”

   “Well...um....”  There was a momentary silence.  “I could show you the Church of Saint Maccul, I suppose.”

   I suppressed a wince.  “You spend a lot of time hanging around so close to the docks after hours?  Not the safest part of town at night, sweeting, especially for a woman alone.”

   “I suppose not, but then I'm not alone right now, am I?”  A slight tremor in her voice belied the bravado.

   “That's true enough.”  We continued down the road in silence until Murray reached a crossroads.  I reined him in, made a split-second decision, and turned him east.  This road was less congested, and he happily picked up speed, pedestrians moving to either side to let us pass as we approached.

   “I think we're headed the wrong direction,” my passenger told me.

   “I know we are.  Have you been to Desse Market yet?”

   “No, but wouldn't the stalls be closing by now?”

   “Oh, doubtless, but at least you'd know where it is when you need it.”  Not to mention that the Market lay between the waterfront and the route back to Castle Levington.  “What's your name, sweeting?”

   “My name?”  She sounded wary.  I swallowed a laugh.  She'd agreed to go riding with me, a stranger, in the gathering dusk, but was leery of giving me her name?  “It's...ah...Janela.”

   Close enough.  She'd doubtless picked a name similar to Jennet so she'd remember to respond to it.  “Ajanela?  That's rather exotic, is it a Bremagni name?  I'm Sextus.”

   Her arms tightened around my waist as Murray broke into a trot.  “No, it's just Janela.”

   “Is it now?  Well, that's fine.  I'm just Sextus.”  The road widened once we got past the more crowded waterfront area, and with most of Desse's citizenry gone indoors with the waning of the sunlight, it was nearly empty now despite the bright moon rising overhead.  Murray broke into a canter, causing Jennet to clutch more tightly at me despite his smoother gait.  

   “I...I t-think we were supposed to have turned right at that last road to go to Desse M-market,” she stammered.  I could sense her rising panic.

   “We were.  But you were right, they were closing up for the night anyway, so you've not missed much.”  I shot a glance over my shoulder at her.  “Is there anyone I ought to send a message back to, my lady?  Someone who might be concerned about you if you don't end up going back to your Desse lodgings tonight?”

   Her panic bubbled free.  “Where are you taking me, you ruffian?!”

   “Home, sweeting.  I'm sorry, but Desse isn't a very safe town for a highborn young maid to be wandering about in with no proper guardian.  I know it's not where you want to go, and that you're out of sorts with your papa right now, but someday when you're a bit older and more experienced, I'm sure you'll look back on all this and thank me.”

   “You're not going to hold me for ransom, then?” she said, her voice small.

   “No, sweeting.”

   “And...you're not going to ravish me, are you?”  Perhaps it was just my imagination, but she sounded oddly disappointed.  I choked back a laugh.

   “No, I'm afraid not.  I doubt I'd get the rest of my pay from your father if I do.  And the King might have a word or two to say about that as well.”  Indeed Kelson would, and most assuredly they'd not be repeatable in polite company!  “You're undoubtedly the loveliest traveling companion I've had in some time, but thirty sovereigns is a steep fine to pay to avoid losing my youth in Rhemuth's dungeon or your father's oubliette.  I’ve never shelled out an entire year’s wages to enjoy a woman’s favors in my life, and I don’t intend to start now, so unless your brief stay in Gwynedd’s randiest port town has taught you how to be one hell of a seductress, your maidenhead is quite safe.”

   “I hate you!”  She sounded tearful.  I patted the hands clasped around my waist.

   “I know.  Hopefully you'll live to hate me for many more years to come, which is more than what I could guarantee you if I'd left you back in Desse.”

#

   I could have covered the distance between Desse and Levington easily enough that night, even with Murray double-laden as he was, but night travel had its attendant hazards, and I was not about to risk losing the baron’s heiress to real highwaymen just as soon as I’d managed to acquire the chit.  There was a convent not too far out of the way, and I briefly considered the merits of sheltering there for the night, but I couldn’t put it past Lady Jennet to plead her case with the nuns, telling them I’d abducted her or worse in order to prolong her stay there.  Granted, the baron would sort the matter out quickly enough once he’d gotten wind of it, but it wasn’t a delay I wanted to risk.  No, the lady would just have to deal with seeing Deryni magic up close and personal for one evening.  Perhaps if she were the fearful sort, she might be cowed enough to remain on her best behavior once she saw my display of arcane powers.

   Then again, perhaps not.  I fought the urge to rub the place on my shoulder where she’d just bitten me in a fit of pique.   The Lady Jennet didn’t strike me as the easily cowed sort.

   Fortunately, I’d planned for this contingency during my musings over my noonday meal.  There was a suitable area for setting up camp just east of Desse, a few hundred yards off the main road, where I’d spent an evening or three under starry skies when my coin purse was too light to afford a room indoors.  Like the place where I’d spent the previous evening, it also had close access to a fresh water source.

   “We’re leaving the road,” my passenger complained as Murray veered off the main path.  I didn’t answer since she’d merely stated the obvious, and my attention was occupied by picking out familiar landmarks in the growing gloom.  

   “Are you easily frightened?” I asked her after a bit as my gaze attempted to pierce the shadows around us.  Murray had been here before, and I trusted him to pick his sure-footed way across the short route, but still, even though his vision was better than mine, I wished we could both see the path ahead more clearly.  The night was still young, but bands of outlaws sometimes roamed the countryside after dark, and I couldn't very well defend my charge if I couldn't see any attackers early enough to prevent an ambush.  Fortunately, Murray knew exactly where to find the campsite, and he picked his way unerringly across the dark path.  I trusted he had the good sense to alert me if he sensed any danger up ahead that my own Deryni senses had not picked up on already, but I hated going into any situation feeling half-blind, at least while I had a defenseless maiden in my keeping.  I winced as my sore shoulder twinged.  Well, mostly defenseless.

   “Not especially.  I’m with you, aren’t I?”  I had to smile at her defiant tone.  Yes, indeed, she still was, though that was in part because she hadn’t been fool enough to jump off the back of a galloping horse.  Murray had slowed back down to a walk now, though, and I didn’t trust her not to try to make an escape soon.

   Murray halted, and the sound of running water nearby told me we'd reached our destination.  “Good, then.”  I formed a sphere of pale violet-blue handfire, sending it wafting into the air slightly above us to dispel the surrounding shadows.   My horse, as ever, was unfazed by this display.  Behind me, Jennet gasped, clutching my waist more tightly, but there were no screams or wails ensuing, just the motion of her leaning slightly to one side to peer around me.  

   “Does that…hurt?” she asked after a long moment.  Not so much fear in her voice as simple curiosity.  I smiled.

   “No, my lady, not at all.  If you’d like, I’ll show you more when we set up camp.”

   That got more of an upset reaction from her.  “Set up camp?  I can’t camp with you; it wouldn’t be proper!

   I burst out laughing.  She glared at me while I patted Murray's neck and dismounted.  She was still glaring as I helped her down, steadying her on her feet before using a sleep spell to keep her from bolting until I could set up protective wards around us.


Chapter Eight:  http://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php?topic=727.0
« Last Edit: June 12, 2011, 02:17:14 pm by Evie »
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

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Offline AnnieUK

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Re: Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered--Chapter Seven
« Reply #1 on: June 06, 2011, 12:10:18 pm »
...and for an extra complication, add another woman to the mix...

Offline Jerusha

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Re: Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered--Chapter Seven
« Reply #2 on: June 06, 2011, 12:15:52 pm »
Very entertaining!  I do hope that the Baron agrees with Sextus' strategy for the night's accommodations.  Lady Jennet might come up with her own version of the evening's events upon her return to Daddy.
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Offline Elkhound

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Re: Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered--Chapter Seven
« Reply #3 on: June 06, 2011, 12:59:22 pm »
...and for an extra complication, add another woman to the mix...

A good general rule.  I've never understood the attraction of polygamy; keeping ONE woman happy is hard enough for most men! ;D

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Re: Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered--Chapter Seven
« Reply #4 on: June 06, 2011, 01:23:46 pm »
...and for an extra complication, add another woman to the mix...

A good general rule.  I've never understood the attraction of polygamy; keeping ONE woman happy is hard enough for most men! ;D

As my dad likes to joke, "No man can serve two masters."  ;D
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

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Offline Alkari

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Re: Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered--Chapter Seven
« Reply #5 on: June 06, 2011, 04:10:22 pm »
Silly Sextus!   I have a suspicion that he might end up wishing he'd just galloped straight back to Levington, dumped the chit back with her father, collected his pay and then made a very swift escape!  :D

Ah yes, the Green  Barrel ...  ;)

« Last Edit: June 06, 2011, 04:37:41 pm by Alkari »

Offline derynifanatic64

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Re: Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered--Chapter Seven
« Reply #6 on: June 06, 2011, 06:33:15 pm »
This story just keeps getting better and better......
We will never forget the events of 9-11!!  USA!! USA!!

Offline Elkhound

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Re: Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered--Chapter Seven
« Reply #7 on: June 07, 2011, 03:35:28 pm »
Silly Sextus!   I have a suspicion that he might end up wishing he'd just galloped straight back to Levington, dumped the chit back with her father, collected his pay and then made a very swift escape!  :D

Ah yes, the Green  Barrel ...  ;)



On the other hand, if he did that, she'd just run away again as soon as she could, and they'd just begin all over.  Or, if not that, her father might do something truly dreadful to her, and Sextus wouldn't want that on his conscience either.

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Re: Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered--Chapter Seven
« Reply #8 on: June 07, 2011, 03:52:20 pm »
Choices, choices....    :)

When the legal thing to do happens to also be what one believes is the moral thing to do, the right choice of action in that sort of situation is easy.  But if for some reason what one believes to be the right thing to do happens not to be the strictly legal thing, the decision becomes a bit harder....

*whistles to self and gives the upcoming chapter another proofread*

 :D
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
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Offline Jerusha

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Re: Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered--Chapter Seven
« Reply #9 on: June 07, 2011, 07:08:05 pm »
And the Lady Jennet, after riding behind the handsome Sir Sextus to Levington, is likely to be thoroughly smitten by the "ruffian".  He  has to be an improvement over the intended that has been a friend of ther father "simply for ages".   ;)
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

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Re: Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered--Chapter Seven
« Reply #10 on: June 10, 2011, 12:29:41 pm »
I'm sure Lady Avisa wouldn't have any problem with Sir Sextus returning home to Kinlochan with a smitten Lady Jennet in tow.

Oh, wait....   :o

 :D
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
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Offline Elkhound

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Re: Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered--Chapter Seven
« Reply #11 on: June 10, 2011, 01:08:42 pm »
As my dad likes to joke, "No man can serve two masters."  ;D

Bigamy is the crime that is its own punishment.

Offline Alkari

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Re: Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered--Chapter Seven
« Reply #12 on: June 10, 2011, 07:14:43 pm »
Indeed.  I suspect the next few chapters are going to be painfully punishing for poor Sextus  :D

Offline Elkhound

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Re: Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered--Chapter Seven
« Reply #13 on: June 11, 2011, 07:25:36 am »
Indeed.  I suspect the next few chapters are going to be painfully punishing for poor Sextus  :D

He might consider--BRIEFLY--asking Uncle Dennis about how one goes about entering a monastary or someplace else where there are NO WOMEN.  He'd think better of it immediately, of course.

 

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