The Lord of Misrule

Chapter 8

"Struit insidias lacrimis cum femina plorat" - When a woman weeps, she is setting traps with her tears 

Mikael chuckled and slowed his pace until he was level with a farmer that was hauling a load of barley on a horse-drawn wagon. The poor sod looked like he was in desperate need of nourishment. Prior to today, Mikael would have sworn that it was not possible to have a neck as long and sinewy as this chap's.

"Good sir, we're in a bit of a bother and were wondering if you could lend a helping hand." Mikael clinked a couple of copper coins for added effect.

The farmer spat a rancid mixture of tobacco, birch leaves and nuts on the path. He leered at Mikael, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "Eh? What ya gettin' at?"

"Well, say I and my lovely companion here slip into the back of your wagon to rest our aching legs. And say that we 'accidentally' drop a couple of copper in the back of your wagon. My companion here is ever so clumsy." Mikael shot a playful glance towards Ami.

The farmer squinted at him and spat again. "You tryin' to get me 'ung, lad? For a cup'pa ale, no less?"

Brownish liquid streamed down his chin and disappeared into a scraggly mass of chin hair that barely passed the threshold for a 'beard'. Mikael, mesmerized by the liquid's gloopy texture, subconsciously wiped his own chin.

"I may be a two-bit 'anker, but I ain't some newborn calf without its mother's milk."

"You might want to..." Mikael pointed half-heartedly to the farmer's beard, which had begun to change color. "I don't even know what to call that – it just looks uncomfortable."

The farmer spat again.

"Listen, I promise we won't get you—" Mikael's appeal was cut off by a gruff gesture of the farmer's hand.

"Don't you'se make me any promises, boy. You wan' to hide 'n the back while I smuggle y'er through the gates? T'would be my reckon that only criminals and those unholy would take a fancy to that! I ain't riskin' nothin' for the likes of you. Now scram!"

The farmer's wild gesturing was starting to attract attention from the other passersby and Mikael backed off instinctively. Ami slipped in between Mikael and the agitated farmer, drawing back the cowl from her head.

"Please, sir."

She gave him a look that would make any man whither into a puddle of jelly. Her large eyes gazed at him in forlorn entreaty and the luscious lashes that framed them quivered with every sigh. Her soft, pink lips curved downwards into the beginnings of a pout. Mikael forcibly restrained himself from yelling obscenities at the emaciated drudge for being lucky enough to witness this scene without being castrated.

"We're not criminals. I give you my word, sir. There are some vile creatures in that city that believe they are invincible and can do anything when they have a sword in hand and the backing of a rich man." Her hands trembled and she clasped them over the front of her tunic to calm their shaking. The gesture bunched her shirt down, revealing the long line of her neck where it met the curve of her bosom.

The red-faced farmer glanced back on the path and noticed a group of mercenaries frantically checking carts and cloaked faces. It was only a matter of time before they would catch up to them.

Despite a valiant effort to keep her resolve, a singular tear slid down her cheek and her voice cracked. In that moment, with her eyes downcast and a demure expression clouding her features, her visage emanated a pure innocence that almost made Mikael forget the firecracker that was bottled up inside.