As Abigail Winters sat upon her horse in front of the Nobleman's Inn, the ruckus inside was so loud, she could hear the drunken laughter, shouts, and the laughter of whores and conversations going on. The hood of her cloak hid her features fairly well, as she dismounted the nag that was her farm's only mode of
"Oh Jezabelle; he better be here." she said to the mount; as she gently slapped the reigns on the post; "I don't know where else to look. I've been all over this city looking for pa."
The horse just snorted and stamped her hoof as if saying 'Darn tootin' he better be here I'm fed up too'.
Entering the place Abigail heard the familiar laugh before she saw whom she was seeking. Sighing with relief at finding her father, she made her way to the table where he sat with three other men. One was middle aged, he had a balding head, and a beard. The one across from her father, was cloaked heavily, so she couldn't see his features, the third was an older gentleman with greying hair and a ruddy face.
Grasping her father's shoulder, Abigail pulled; "I am so glad I found you," she said, "Come let's get you home."
Wesley Winters, tilted his head up, his eyes were glassy and his cheeks red from so much drink; he gently patted her hand.
"In a moment, I am about to win big" he said, to his daughter, as he faced the men.
Abigail's heart hammered, she looked at the table before her father and saw he had next to nothing left in coin.
"I say we should go," she said, her voice like a whip, "Now, before you make a fool out of yourself."
"Hey, leave the man alone, he's been amusing." the bearded bald man said, "I am enjoying his fun tales. What's your bet my man? You are down to mere low coins. It won't be enough to get you through the next round; "Ten silver coins is my bet."
The man threw down the coin; and Wesley grinned; "I throw my last farthing, and my daughter's hand in marriage" he said, as he tossed the last of his coin into the lot.
Abigail's eyes widened, and her jaw dropped in astonishment; "ARE YOU MAD?" she said, "Come, let's go. Fold in now before it's too late!"
Wesley just ignored her, fingering his cards, as he sat looking at the men.
"Your daughter eh? Well I don't know if me wife would like that, but I would keep her well as a mistress" the bald man said, giving her a lecherous grin. "What about you Lord Tagget?"
The older gentleman sat up and you could almost hear his brain ticking as he seemed to seriously consider the offer. "She be of good breeding age then?" he asked Wesley.
"Aye, and fair to boot. A pretty thing she is my Abigail." Wesley stated, as he sipped his tankard of ale; "Works hard and don't complain that one. She'd make a good wife to any man!"
"Gentlemen, can we just get on with the game? I'm tired of the babble" the cloaked man grumbled. Abigail, started at the deep timbre of the voice of the cloaked man and she felt a frisson of fear run through her. As her father continued the game, She looked at the stranger then at the two other men at the table. How is it possible, she was the only one objecting to this lunacy? Her fear, was palpable.
The last card was drawn, and the final show was made, the cloaked figure won the bet. Abigail felt her knees start to buckle. Her white knuckled grip on the back of her fathers chair, was the only thing keeping her upright. She felt faint. Her fathers features crumpled in shock, as he looked down at the winning hand on the table, and back at his hand. "I was so.. sure..." he said haltingly, then he lunged for the man beside him, grabbing a dagger; "You will not have my daughter!"
He plunged the knife into his chest, and Abigail screamed. She grabbed her father as he slumped to the floor. Begging, Screaming, and sobbing as her father's last breath was given. The horror of the moment happened as though in slow motion. She gathered his lifeless body in her arms, "Papa... oh Papa what have you done" she wailed, "Why did you do this.. to me.. to yourself?"
The cloaked figure's arms came around her, gently pulling her back as her father's dead body was removed. She struggled to follow. Wailing all the while. She clawed bit, hit, kicked but the man held firm.
"He is gone woman," the cloaked man said, "And you belong to me now."
Abigail wailed even harder, tears pouring down her cheeks as she was roughly hauled outside. She twisted from the man's grasp kicked him hard enough to make him swear as he dropped her to rub his shin. She bolted towards the horse that held her father, and leapt nimbly up on its back. Kicking the person away she clucked and the horse bolted down the street.
She galloped, spreading throngs of screaming people and mud, from the streets uncaring about their safety. She had to return her father to their home, where he could be buried with his wife. She managed to get to the gates somehow, and through them. She could hear hoof beats behind her but she dared not to look. Her heart was slamming in her chest.
The ride was hard and fast, she dodged wagons, and traveller's along the way. Frantic to return home to the small town where she and her family had lived for years.
Finally she saw the small church just on the outskirts of Willows Bane, her hometown. She flew right up to the doors dismounting in a rush and pounding on the door shouting for Father Brian to come to her aid.
A portly young man, with ruddy cheeks in monks clothing opened the door. He saw Abigail, then looked to where she pointed as she collapsed on the steps of his church. He was about to question her, but seeing her distress, he shouted for his apprentice as he hurried out the door. Between the two of them, they brought the body inside. Dispair and sorrow filled him, when he realized who it was. He dispatched the lad to fetch the undertaker, while he gently helped Abigail up and into the church. His housekeeper, hearing the noise, ran out, and he asked her to prepare a cup of tea for the girl as he sat her in front of the fire, trying to calm her.He hoped the undertaker was home, and would come right away.
Hooves clattered on the cobblestones in front of the church. There was a small entourage of men led by the cloaked man. His hood had dislodged itself, during their wild ride as he tried to catch Abigail. He will have to give her a good talking to as the little ninny nearly killed herself and others ariding at break-neck speed through the town! He was furious as his beautiful stallion was now lathered from the chase. His horse was copper, and well muscled. He did not deserve the crazy treatment he just received. He was scowling and his lips were pinched. He gestured to one of his men to take care of the horse as he angrily dismounted and headed up the steps to the church.
The monk saw him and immediately went to his knees; "Your majesty, what a surprise to see you at Willow's Bane" he said, "What do we owe for this pleasure."
he ignored the priest and his question and stormed inside, scanning for Abigail. Her sobs led him right to her. He grasped the sobbing woman by the arm; "Come," he said. He began pulling her to the front door, when the priest tried to waylay him.
"My lord" the priest said in shock; "She has just lost her father, please she is in mourning."
Dominic snarled, and broke pace only long enough to address the distressed priest. "He killed himself," he snapped, "To keep from paying the debt he owed."
Abigail's wail of denial and anger sounded as she flung herself at the man who dared to say the truth to the priest, she beat at him mercilessly shrieking.
The priest, displaying a bravado he did not feel, stepped forward; "Be that as it may, he still deserves a burial, and proper like with the ones who loved him. That is his daughter and the village." the priest said, "So if you do not mind releasing her for the moment, I will see to his burial and arrangements."
Dominic, took a moment as though counting to 10, snapped his teeth, and dropped his grip on the woman. Maybe she'll be easier to deal with, if she sees her father buried. "Fine, but I am not leaving without my prize."
Abigail, suddenly finds her voice and shouted; "OH go hang your prize, I am not a trophy." she said, "My father was in his cups and did not realize what he was doing." Her heart and all hope hanging on him being a reasonable man.
Dominic sneered; "He was perfectly sound, he knew what he was getting into. He made his bet and lost. You are now my property by right. I will leave you to mourn, but I will be staying here until the funeral ends then you will be coming back with me."
That said, he turned and strode out of the church. He instructed one of the men to ride ahead and secure rooms, food and stables for the group, then to two others, he gave a grave order. "Be sure she does not escape. I want her watched like a hawk."
The guards nodded, and two of them left to keep an eye on the woman that their lord had been riding like mad to get to. Although the behavior of their lord was a bit odd they didn't dare question it. Having attended to business, he looked back once at the church, then set off at a leisurely pace back to town, shaking his head at the unusual events of the day.
transportation. "Oh Jezabelle; he better be here." she said to the mount; as she gently slapped the reigns on the post; "I don't know where else to look. I've been all over this city looking for pa."
The horse just snorted and stamped her hoof as if saying 'Darn tootin' he better be here I'm fed up too'.
Entering the place Abigail heard the familiar laugh before she saw whom she was seeking. Sighing with relief at finding her father, she made her way to the table where he sat with three other men. One was middle aged, he had a balding head, and a beard. The one across from her father, was cloaked heavily, so she couldn't see his features, the third was an older gentleman with greying hair and a ruddy face.
Grasping her father's shoulder, Abigail pulled; "I am so glad I found you," she said, "Come let's get you home."
Wesley Winters, tilted his head up, his eyes were glassy and his cheeks red from so much drink; he gently patted her hand.
"In a moment, I am about to win big" he said, to his daughter, as he faced the men.
Abigail's heart hammered, she looked at the table before her father and saw he had next to nothing left in coin.
"I say we should go," she said, her voice like a whip, "Now, before you make a fool out of yourself."
"Hey, leave the man alone, he's been amusing." the bearded bald man said, "I am enjoying his fun tales. What's your bet my man? You are down to mere low coins. It won't be enough to get you through the next round; "Ten silver coins is my bet."
The man threw down the coin; and Wesley grinned; "I throw my last farthing, and my daughter's hand in marriage" he said, as he tossed the last of his coin into the lot.
Abigail's eyes widened, and her jaw dropped in astonishment; "ARE YOU MAD?" she said, "Come, let's go. Fold in now before it's too late!"
Wesley just ignored her, fingering his cards, as he sat looking at the men.
"Your daughter eh? Well I don't know if me wife would like that, but I would keep her well as a mistress" the bald man said, giving her a lecherous grin. "What about you Lord Tagget?"
The older gentleman sat up and you could almost hear his brain ticking as he seemed to seriously consider the offer. "She be of good breeding age then?" he asked Wesley.
"Aye, and fair to boot. A pretty thing she is my Abigail." Wesley stated, as he sipped his tankard of ale; "Works hard and don't complain that one. She'd make a good wife to any man!"
"Gentlemen, can we just get on with the game? I'm tired of the babble" the cloaked man grumbled. Abigail, started at the deep timbre of the voice of the cloaked man and she felt a frisson of fear run through her. As her father continued the game, She looked at the stranger then at the two other men at the table. How is it possible, she was the only one objecting to this lunacy? Her fear, was palpable.
The last card was drawn, and the final show was made, the cloaked figure won the bet. Abigail felt her knees start to buckle. Her white knuckled grip on the back of her fathers chair, was the only thing keeping her upright. She felt faint. Her fathers features crumpled in shock, as he looked down at the winning hand on the table, and back at his hand. "I was so.. sure..." he said haltingly, then he lunged for the man beside him, grabbing a dagger; "You will not have my daughter!"
He plunged the knife into his chest, and Abigail screamed. She grabbed her father as he slumped to the floor. Begging, Screaming, and sobbing as her father's last breath was given. The horror of the moment happened as though in slow motion. She gathered his lifeless body in her arms, "Papa... oh Papa what have you done" she wailed, "Why did you do this.. to me.. to yourself?"
The cloaked figure's arms came around her, gently pulling her back as her father's dead body was removed. She struggled to follow. Wailing all the while. She clawed bit, hit, kicked but the man held firm.
"He is gone woman," the cloaked man said, "And you belong to me now."
Abigail wailed even harder, tears pouring down her cheeks as she was roughly hauled outside. She twisted from the man's grasp kicked him hard enough to make him swear as he dropped her to rub his shin. She bolted towards the horse that held her father, and leapt nimbly up on its back. Kicking the person away she clucked and the horse bolted down the street.
She galloped, spreading throngs of screaming people and mud, from the streets uncaring about their safety. She had to return her father to their home, where he could be buried with his wife. She managed to get to the gates somehow, and through them. She could hear hoof beats behind her but she dared not to look. Her heart was slamming in her chest.
The ride was hard and fast, she dodged wagons, and traveller's along the way. Frantic to return home to the small town where she and her family had lived for years.
Finally she saw the small church just on the outskirts of Willows Bane, her hometown. She flew right up to the doors dismounting in a rush and pounding on the door shouting for Father Brian to come to her aid.
A portly young man, with ruddy cheeks in monks clothing opened the door. He saw Abigail, then looked to where she pointed as she collapsed on the steps of his church. He was about to question her, but seeing her distress, he shouted for his apprentice as he hurried out the door. Between the two of them, they brought the body inside. Dispair and sorrow filled him, when he realized who it was. He dispatched the lad to fetch the undertaker, while he gently helped Abigail up and into the church. His housekeeper, hearing the noise, ran out, and he asked her to prepare a cup of tea for the girl as he sat her in front of the fire, trying to calm her.He hoped the undertaker was home, and would come right away.
Hooves clattered on the cobblestones in front of the church. There was a small entourage of men led by the cloaked man. His hood had dislodged itself, during their wild ride as he tried to catch Abigail. He will have to give her a good talking to as the little ninny nearly killed herself and others ariding at break-neck speed through the town! He was furious as his beautiful stallion was now lathered from the chase. His horse was copper, and well muscled. He did not deserve the crazy treatment he just received. He was scowling and his lips were pinched. He gestured to one of his men to take care of the horse as he angrily dismounted and headed up the steps to the church.
The monk saw him and immediately went to his knees; "Your majesty, what a surprise to see you at Willow's Bane" he said, "What do we owe for this pleasure."
he ignored the priest and his question and stormed inside, scanning for Abigail. Her sobs led him right to her. He grasped the sobbing woman by the arm; "Come," he said. He began pulling her to the front door, when the priest tried to waylay him.
"My lord" the priest said in shock; "She has just lost her father, please she is in mourning."
Dominic snarled, and broke pace only long enough to address the distressed priest. "He killed himself," he snapped, "To keep from paying the debt he owed."
Abigail's wail of denial and anger sounded as she flung herself at the man who dared to say the truth to the priest, she beat at him mercilessly shrieking.
The priest, displaying a bravado he did not feel, stepped forward; "Be that as it may, he still deserves a burial, and proper like with the ones who loved him. That is his daughter and the village." the priest said, "So if you do not mind releasing her for the moment, I will see to his burial and arrangements."
Dominic, took a moment as though counting to 10, snapped his teeth, and dropped his grip on the woman. Maybe she'll be easier to deal with, if she sees her father buried. "Fine, but I am not leaving without my prize."
Abigail, suddenly finds her voice and shouted; "OH go hang your prize, I am not a trophy." she said, "My father was in his cups and did not realize what he was doing." Her heart and all hope hanging on him being a reasonable man.
Dominic sneered; "He was perfectly sound, he knew what he was getting into. He made his bet and lost. You are now my property by right. I will leave you to mourn, but I will be staying here until the funeral ends then you will be coming back with me."
That said, he turned and strode out of the church. He instructed one of the men to ride ahead and secure rooms, food and stables for the group, then to two others, he gave a grave order. "Be sure she does not escape. I want her watched like a hawk."
The guards nodded, and two of them left to keep an eye on the woman that their lord had been riding like mad to get to. Although the behavior of their lord was a bit odd they didn't dare question it. Having attended to business, he looked back once at the church, then set off at a leisurely pace back to town, shaking his head at the unusual events of the day.
Written By Caitlin Kraska
Edited By Shelley Dayman
Edited By Shelley Dayman