by Wil Ogden
THE COURTING MONGOOSE
The sounds of a poorly played lute outside the window of Lorraine's bedroom soured her mood. Her sister, Shauna, who shared the room with her, had another suitor. Lorraine didn't even bother to look at this one first before heading down to the feast hall to fetch her sister.
“Lady Lorraine!” The seneschal ambushed her at the entrance to the great hall.
“Yes, Edward?” Lorraine glared at the book in the seneschals arms.
Edward opened the book and pressed his finger on a conspicuous blanks spot on a page full of numbers. “The dairy farmer, Luke, has declined to pay his taxes this month. He says he does not have the money.”
Lorraine snorted. She'd seen Luke buying fifteen new cows at the market a fortnight ago. “Send four men; have them take a cow if he doesn’t come up with five silver. Make sure one of the men is Harry; he'll make sure we get a good, healthy cow. I think Luke will find the money. If not, with almost forty cows, he has more than enough to live off of bartering milk and cheese.”
“Yes, milady.” Edward bowed as Lorraine walked past him into the feast hall.
Since her father died of pneumonia over the winter, her mother had been reclusive. Shauna, though elder, couldn't be bothered with running the County, so Lorraine made all the decisions. Their father's death directly contributed to the increase in suitors. Whoever won Shauna's hand would become the next Count of Northwind. Lorraine wished that just once someone would see her as a woman worth courting.
She found her sister trying on a new tiara and admiring herself in the polished silver mirrors of the feast hall.
“There's another minstrel singing outside the balcony,” Lorraine announced
“If this one is cute, could you, maybe, let him win?” Shauna asked.
On his deathbed, Count Daniel Northwind had requested that anyone seeking to court Shauna must first defeat Lorraine in a duel of swords. Once they heard of the requirement, all but three of the young men seeking Shauna's hand had rescinded their offers. Those three hadn't lasted ten seconds, combined, against Lorraine.
“It's not my fault they didn't prove worthy.” Lorraine patted the bell of the sword hanging from her belt. The sword had been her father's, it comprised the entirety of Lorraine's inheritance. Shauna got the Duchy. Lorraine was pretty sure she'd gotten the better heirloom.
With a stomp, Shauna said, “You're the best sword fighter in the northern counties. It was cruel of father to require that.”
Lorraine rolled her eyes at her sister's tantrum. Did stomping ever help a point of debate, she wondered. “Shall we see the new suitor? So far, all I know is that he cannot even tune his lute, let alone play it.”
She followed her sister back up to their bedchamber balcony. She gasped when she saw the suitor. He wore black leather with shiny golden studs and a sword at each hip. He smiled when they glanced down on him, but kept his off-key ditty going.
“Look at that scar on his face?” Shauna whispered, her voice showing her disgust.
“That's Desaythian the Mongoose.” Lorraine whispered back, guessing his identity from the stories of the legendary bandit hunter. Hunting bandits seemed like a far more exciting life than managing a county. She longed for the chance to really test her skills in a life or death fight, not a controlled duel to first touch.
“The guy who attacks bandits in their lairs?” Shauna asked with a hint of awe in her voice.
Lorraine nodded. “I think we just found someone who can beat me in that duel.”
“First, I have to approve and I just can't get past his scarred face.” Shauna pulled Lorraine back, away from the balcony. “Let’s go down and send him on his way.”
When they emerged into the courtyard, the minstrel was leaning under an apple tree. As they approached, he stepped from the tree and bowed.
“I am Desaythian, Lord of Silverfalls and I come to ask permission to court you, Lady Lorraine of Northwind,” he said.
Shauna fainted and fell forward. Desaythian leapt forward and caught her, setting her gently on her back in the shade of the tree.
“Wow,” Lorraine managed to say. The man’s quickness lived up to his reputation.
“My apologies, I did not mean to distress your sister.” There was nothing apologetic about his wry smile.
Lorraine didn't return the grin, keeping her demeanor proper and collected. She couldn't help but like everything about the bandit hunter before her, but until she knew his motivations, she'd keep her feelings to herself. “She's never had a man come courting and find herself not the object of affection. I’m confused as well. My hand does not come with the County. Why would you want to court me?”
“There are tales of a young woman of strong mind, wisdom beyond her years and a sword of unparalleled grace. I had to meet her for myself,” Desaythian said.
Lorraine had to turn away to hide her sudden blush. “That’s an exaggeration and still does not really say why you asked to court me.”
Desaythian circled around to stand before her. “Not as much of an exaggeration as your modesty would believe. But, in truth, I have recently acquired a few more scars and it occurred to me that I must either look to giving up my life as a bandit hunter, which I am not so eager to do, or I must find a partner. The rumors of you make you the perfect candidate. As I traveled here and heard more and more tales of your wisdom, of your strength and of your skill, I must admit, I fell in love.”
“But those are just tales. How do you know I am really as they say?” Lorraine asked.
Desaythian shrugged. “I don’t, but it is enough to begin a courtship. So, will you allow me to woo you?” He knelt before her and offered her his hand.
“Get up, Desaythian,” Lorraine said, stepping away. She wanted to take his hand and pull him close, but was having more fun making him work a little for her affection. “I’ll come with you, and be your partner.” She felt dizzy at the idea of leaving her home for the life of high adventure, but Edward was capable of getting the decisions made properly. Desaythian certainly met her requirements for what she sought in a mate.
Desaythian stood, brushing his hand on his doublet as if there must have been some taint that kept her from grasping it. “But, will you allow me to woo your heart?”
Lorraine took a moment to pretend to admire the apples high on the branches before she held out her hand and smiled. As he took it gently and kissed it, she said, “Only if you promise never to sing to me again.”
About this story:
This one is less obviously from the world of Mealth. It is, but there are not any references to places or people from other stories.