Harun never knew three days which were over as quickly as these and simultaneously took as long to take to pass. On the one hand, he dreaded they might be over, and Karl, trusting his advice, would get disgraced in front of all his friends and fellow villagers; on the other hand, he dreaded even more the steward, prone to pop up wherever Harun went, throwing threatening looks around in all directions. This would only be over when he had openly been accused. So please, court, Harun thought, come quickly.
It was a well-established metaphysical law that dread of an expected event causes time to run quicker, whereas the longing for such only served to slow down the ticking of the world’s universal clock. Harun supposed the two effects must more or less have neutralized one another, for the days were going by with a vexing conformity to their usual timetable: 24 hours long, the sun going first up, then down again.
Going once.
Going twice.
Any last bidders?
Gone.
Harun had promised himself he would go, and so go he would.
“How? If the village people get hold of you, they’ll beat the stuffing out of you for sure,” Wenzel pointed out to him.
“No they will not…”
“Why?”
“…if you accompany me.”
“Me? Why me?”
“You are a guard, are you not? Guarding is what guards are for.”
“I am a castle guard. You're not a castle.”
“I can hold up a little flag in each hand if it makes you feel better. I am afraid that I cannot provide any turrets or battlements…”
“Oh shut up, will you?”
“Yes, Milord.”
“You really want to go to this court thing?”
“I do not particularly want to, no, Wenzel. I must.”
“Because you promised?”
“Because I must. You see… I’ve started this affair. I’ve given that man what he needs either to destroy his brother’s killer, or be destroyed himself. I cannot simply walk out on him now and let him face the music alone.”
Wenzel sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Though I wished you wouldn’t involve me in your grand acts of loyalty and sense of duty.”
Harun smiled knowingly. “You are still worried people may try and attack me?”
“Aye.” Wenzel frowned as Harun's smile broadened. He obviously didn't understand why his friend was so calm.
“Tell me, Wennzel, who is the judge at this court.”
“Sir Christian of course. Why…” Wenzel's mouth dropped open. “Oh I see! If he’s there, nobody’ll dare touch you.”
“That’s right. Now can we go, please? Time is getting on, I do not wish to be late for this.”
“I suppose…”
They went down to the village together, still squabbling. Wenzel was not sure whether Harun would be allowed to come to the court at all.
“And why not?” the scribe enquired.
“It’s only for the free people of the village.”
“So what? I am free. Sir Christian set me free, years ago. That is why I am here.”
YOU ARE READING
Well Dead
Mystery / ThrillerA murder at the castle gates, a young widow in distress - and only one man willing to solve the mystery of the violent death that has disrupted the peaceful village of Sevenport! After years of hardship and slavery, Harun the Arab has found work as...
