Walking out into the night I enjoyed the cool sea air on my skin. I was heading back to the hamlet I had previously purchased the hog from. Perhaps they had more to sell. By a stroke of luck, I ran into a modest lit cottage on the way. A shepherd had his flock on the nearby hills. I negotiated for a few of the beasts. Mutton would serve well enough. Paying with Wulfric’s silver, I left with four of the creatures. I found what had seemed like a good idea at the time was proving otherwise. The three ewes handled easily enough. The ram however was an ornery beast. The shepherd had been adept at guiding the animals. I made up for the lack of skill with a stick and a lot of shouting. It was hard work getting back in the dark. I had been so absorbed in the wrangling that I failed to notice that I had picked up some company.

Waving my makeshift crook in the air, I nearly brained the man besides me. We both yelped at each other for different reasons. Me out of surprise and him… out of surprise as well. Surprised at nearly getting brained by a branch. I do not know how I failed to notice him. The hood and cloak may have had something to do with it. My antics with the stick shook him out of the hood. I realized he was highborn the moment I saw him. His height and hair color helped. The bright blues of his eyes as well. What really made him unmistakable was well… was how beautiful he was. No, not in that way. I think you are confusing beautiful with pretty. Though I would wager there would be a lot of women who would kill to look as half as good. If lady Maron was beautiful, he was otherworldly. Yes, that is a good way of describing him. He was ethereal. The silver hair helped the impression. I noticed the silver hair. A correction, I recognized the silver hair. Dismay panic rose within me. It came up to my throat.

“Shit.” I muttered. He blushed. Various thoughts raced through my mind. He must have been the one at the plaza ambush. Was he here for revenge? Should I run? Could I beat him with the stick? I was pretty sure I could leave him cold and make a run for it. In the end I did none of those. It was the smart choice as well. I would never meet anybody on the continent that was as good with a blade as he was. I was face to face with Roland de Charney, son of Count Armand de Charney. Not that I knew who he was then. So, I just repeated what I said. “Shit.”

“I’m sorry. I did not mean to alarm you…”

“Shit.” He thought I was angry at him. How he got that impression from my terrified wide-eyed delivery was beyond me. He could have lopped my head off there and then and had little trouble over it. He was highborn. The son of a count no less. It took me a moment to register that he had no idea who I was. It took me another to notice that my sheep had wandered off. “Shit!”

“Are you alright?”

“No. The mutton!” They weren’t mutton yet, but I had half the mind to turn the ram into force meat there and then. We were not far from the beach and the animals had not completely dispersed. I reigned in the multitude of foolish urges and turned to new companion. “If you want to help, lend a hand.” And that he did. The progress was a lot smoother between the two of us. Being highborn probably helped. The animals seemed to be more willing to listen to him than me.

“You never introduced yourself. Is that common in the south?” Foolish but I felt like needling him.

“No. It’s Roland. What about you?”

“Ed. At least that’s what friends call me. So, which one are you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What I am trying to say is, what are you doing out here? Forgive my suspicion, but most decent people are not about at night in the middle of nowhere. Especially not in dark cloaks and with steel on hips.” I gave the sword hanging by his waist a significant look. “Not if they don’t mean trouble.”

“Ah. Some friends and I heard that there was a party. We decided to…”

I think he realized how lame his excuse sounded. Who came to a party armed? I gave his sword another look. It was an ornate piece that was more fanciful than practical. Under the obscuring cloak was an ensemble of dress that looked more at home at a ball than a seaside revelry. The Monforte autumn ball to be precise. On my return I discovered we had new guests of a better class. Women in shimmering gowns and men in sharp dress. Perhaps in the glittering dance halls they looked beautiful. But in the flickering firelight they looked gaudy. Meticulously painted faces paled before the healthy flush of earthy joy.

“Well if you came looking for entertainment, I don’t think we are your kind of people.”

“Yes. More than you will know.”

Roland wore a practiced smile. It had that perfect quality of some artificial. In his own way this stranger was as lonely and lost as I was. I guess it takes one to know one. We delivered the sheep to more capable hands. Judging by the size of the crowd we needed it.

“Your lot I presume?” I nodded towards the newcomers.

“Not really. I was dragged along to be honest.”

“So, you don’t fit in with them either.” Roland’s façade cracked for a second before it seamlessly restored itself. I did not know what to make of it nor wanted to know. I had enough problems of my own. “You look a little lost. So am I. My advice is to go out there and have a good time. Take what you can get when you can get it. Feel free to do whatever you want. We all have our ways.” I then walked away leaving him to his own decision. I could be conscious if I wanted to be.

I found Alwin sitting in the sand gently moving his hands backwards and forwards. That in and of itself was nothing new. He had always been a little strange. Then he started getting up and falling over repeatedly. Now that was odd even for him. I ran over to him to see if he was alright.

“Easy there Alwin, what’s going on?”

“Eddiwin… whysa… whysa my hand so big?”

“Are you alright?”

I could smell the drink on him. He must have let himself go. On the few occasions in which we had access to liquor, he had always been a reserved drinker. Looking at him now I could tell that he was steaming.

“Ed… Why am I’s a-right?”

He got to his feet and fell over again. I thought it was the effects of the drink, but I could now tell that it was deliberate.

“What do you mean Alwin.”

“This!”

He got up and fell over again. I wondered if he was afflicted by something stronger than whiskey. Then I noted that odd earnestness he had. He was thinking about something.

“Look!” Said Alwin. “When I fall over, I don’t get hurt! Whysat?”

“Maybe it’s because of the sand?”

“Nooo. It’s not.”

He did it again. And this time I watched.

“You must be falling differently then.”

“S’actly! I’m falling… eurgh!”

He violently threw up on himself. All that sloshing about must have gotten to his stomach. Even when he was drunk, he was thinking about fighting. He would later come up with theories on how to fall properly. It is interesting stuff. Especially the methods on falling from horseback. Alwin applied himself to the art of combat like… like how I would apply myself to making war. All of that is neither here nor there. I had a drunk friend who was heaving his guts into the sand. Helping him burry his mess, I promptly threw him into the sea. A little cold water went a long way into sobering him up. And making him smell better. Making sure he did not end up drowning himself in the surf, I left Alwin to dry himself by a bonfire. I went to find something to eat. I was feeling hungry again.

Squatting by a fire I held a skewered sausage to the flames. The mutton had yet to be finished so I found something else. I had returned to Alwin’s fire with an armful of edibles. Winston found me cooking up meal. He joined me in making some toast. Alwin just sat there, a mug of warm flip in hands. Winston had found a fork and tossed it into the fire. When it got scalding, we dropped it into a mug of cider with a drop of whisky. It was a common enough drink on the Isles. We were missing an egg, but it was close enough.

“Why does food taste better when you are drunk?” Winston waxed philosophically.

“Beats me.” I shrugged.

“When are the sausage going to be done?” Asked Alwin.

“When they’re done.” I snapped.

“It just strikes me that only cooking one at a time is rather inefficient.” Observed Alwin.

I saw the flutter of silk and an approaching shadow from the corner of my eye.

“Would you like a sausage too Lady Maron?”

“Is that meant to be an innuendo Mister Saker?”

“Not at all madame. I just wished to know if I should prepare one more.”

“May I ask what kind it is?”

“A big one. Meaty.”

“I believe that was an innuendo.”

“No, just an allusion madame.”

“Hm. Why then, I’ll accept your kindly offer.”

Winston gave a fine impression of a fish out of water. For all my banter I too was feeling the same way. It was strange of seeing her here. Though unexpected she was still a sight. Those amber eyes were as dangerous as usual. But I found myself more comfortable than overwhelmed by her presence. Perhaps I had gotten used to her.

“So, are you going to cook more than one now?” Alwin groused.

I looked at him and discovered that he was entirely indifferent to her presence. Winston had the usual reaction most had when meeting her. There were even a few heads turned our way. The only thing that must have crossed Alwin’s mind was how sharp a blade she was. Again, anything outside of dueling might as well not have existed. That and sausages in this instant. Osmund now him. Why did I get all the oddballs?

“Alright, alright. I’ll add a few more while I’m at it.” Affixing several more links onto the skewer, I poked the first sausage for doneness. “Now then. Unless I am mistaken, I do not think that you have left the autumn ball just for my sausage’s Madame Maron.”

“Whilst many would doubtlessly rejoice at the implied scandal, no I have not. Come, walk with me.”

Without waiting she turned and strode off into the night. Her invitation was an order. I had half the mind to just sit there and cook the sausages. I was hungry. However, I acquiesced, she evidently had something to say to me. I did not think her the kind to have abandoned such an important occasion out of a whim. Passing the stick laden with sausages to Alwin I rose to follow her.

We walked the sands for a while. I waited for her to bring up what was on her mind. In truth I had not expected her to turn up as she did. She had been out of my mind. I enjoyed watching the people make merry. I think she did as well. Both of us watched for a good while.

“Is it always like this?” She gestured towards the crowd. “Celebrations between the little people?”

I paused to come to with a fitting answer. “No.”

“I would think not. But it would have been nice if it were.”

“I find that not all things are what I once thought they were.”

“Cynicism at your age? It is boorish amongst the old. Pretentious in the young. Or so my tutors tell me.”

“Have you found much wisdom is their teachings?”

“Of a kind. Yes.”

I smiled a smile and she returned me one as well.

“I am sorry.”

“For what?” she replied.

“For the world. For everyone. For everything.”

She laughed at my words.

“And who are you to be responsible for those?”

“Nobody, as you well know. But somebody once told me that sorry could also express sympathy. Not just an apology.”

“Does it?”

“Maybe. It might not translate so well from my language to yours. Then again that person wasn’t the most linguistically versed.”

“Perhaps. But I think that it is a good sentiment. I like it.”

We fell into a companionable silence as we watched the dancers. It was getting late and their pace had slowed. I sighed and turned to her. I was going to ask her for a dance, but I could see her eyes were on someone else. I gave a wry chuckle.

“So, who’s the lucky gentleman tonight?” Bless her she blushed at that. We were young back then. Despite all her affectations, she was a woman within a gilded cage. “Is it Roland?” I could make out his distinct silvery hair.

“You are acquainted with de Charney?”

I choked on my next words. “De Charney?”

“You must have noticed.”

“No. I just made him… herd some sheep.”

She laughed. “You made the son of Count de Charney handle cattle?”

“I suppose I did… Ah, his companion then!” I noted that her eyes were still locked in the same direction. It was on that young man who was beside Roland on the night of the ambush. The one I instinctively disliked. I reflected that it was all mean spirited now. I pushed her towards his direction. “Go, have a good time”.

“What are…” She turned to say something, but I had already walked away.

She had left the ball because it had been too much. Such was politics. Toxic and venal it was the way of the world. It was a hard thing for anybody to take. In the highest halls and humblest homes, there is no escaping the inherent vileness of man. For all her drive and courage, it had been too much. There were cures for the ails of the world. Love and laughter were one. Drink is another. I decided I would substitute with the latter.

“His name is Bram.” A familiar voice prompted. “And I can see why she would fancy him. He has a laughter that would brighten up any room.”

“Good evening Madame.” I turned and found Janie smiling her sad soft smile. “It seems as if everybody knows where I am tonight. Though I have no idea what prompted my newfound popularity.”

“Have you considered that it may all be by chance?”

“Then your appearance is the gladdest of serendipities.” I took her hand and kissed it.

“Why, If I were but ten years younger-”

“You would have never looked my way.” I returned that same smile to her.

“Yes. I suppose so. But I was a fool back then. Did you know that it was young Eloise’s idea to come looking for you? The poor darling nearly stormed out of the autumn ball. It raised quite a few eyebrows.”

I sighed. “It was the path that she had chosen.”

“So it was, so it was.” She conceded. “You must have been a remarkable friend to her. She asked your Lord Cedric where you were by name. Your absence must have meant a lot to her.”

“She reacted… diplomatically I hope?”

“Not enough to cause a scene if that’s what you are asking. And before you ask, I was in attendance of the event. A gentleman had kindly taken me as his escort.”

“I hope your presence here has not affected that prior arrangement.” I sighed again. “She will have to learn to become less sentimental if she desires to succeed. I am but a piece of little significance in the great game.”

“She will.” Janie shrugged. It was unladylike but I found the artless gesture endearing. “What will you do now? From what I gather you are no longer favored by your pervious sponsor.”

“I don’t know. Continue as I always had I suppose. There will always be wars and flesh for the grinders is always needed.” I chuckled dryly. Janie frowned at my macabre comment. “But for tonight I think I want to dance.”

She smiled at that. “And I think I wish to be a young lady once again.”

“Why, that is already granted. Fie I say any blackguard that would think otherwise.”

“Then would you be my knight this hour?” She produced that rose pin she had made for me and secured it to my collar.

“Tonight, I think we can be forgiven for being everything and anything we wish to be.”

I took her hand and we danced the last waltz of summer. We danced for the mistakes, we danced for what we were not. We danced into autumn and war.