AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He bowed his head to the lady of ill repute. “That would be a very apt and polite way to put it.”
A mischievous thought struck me. “So should we stay in one of these places to try out the local flavors?”
“I have only one current favorite,” he returned as he smiled at me. “And she’s seated beside me at this very moment.”
I nudged his arm with my elbow. “You know how to make a girl blush, I’ll give you that.” I folded my arms over my chest and looked about us. “So what sights should we see?”
Ben patted his breast pocket. “We should leave Fysan’s list for last so the vegetables won’t be too wilted by the time we return to the house.”
“So what then?”
He cocked his head to one side and grinned at me as he directed Ferox off the main road and onto the first side street. “What do you say to having an early drink?”
“That would depend on the drink,” I mused as we passed a pub.
The door was open, which was fortunate for the man who was unceremoniously tossed through it and out onto the street. He landed almost in front of us and Ferox jerked to a stop with an indignant snuff. The short-stop flight left the man a little dazed and he struggled to stand. He grabbed the harness of our carriage.
Ben shot to his feet. “You might want to let-”
Too late. Ferox reared up, launching the man into the air. He landed with a clatter halfway between us and the open door. A soft groan escaped the twice-abused fellow.
The burly fellow who had tossed him glared at his former customer. “And that’s what you get for not paying!” And with that, he stomped back into the bar.
Ben hopped down and rushed over to the man. The gentleman of the bar counter was just staggering to his feet as Ben grasped one bent arm.
“Are you alright?” Ben asked him.
The man dropped his head back and grinned up at Ben. The stranger was about forty with three-day-old whiskers and unruly hair that would have sat about shoulder length but was now draped over everything but his shoulders. He wore a drab overcoat and matching pants with a soiled shirt underneath. A pair of worn boots covered his feet.
“Of course I’m alright,” the man replied as he dug into his coat and drew out a bottle. “I managed to get this prize before he tossed me.”
I hopped down and hurried up to Ben’s side. The bottle was in pristine condition. “How is that not broken?”
The man leaned toward me and gave me a wink. His breath wreaked of alcohol. And garlic. “Magic, miss. Ain’t nothing better than to use a little sprinkle and save a perfectly good bottle.” The man proceeded to pop the cork, or would have if his clumsy fingers could have grabbed the short nub.
Ben chuckled as he gave the man’s arm a tug. “Perhaps you should enjoy your victory somewhere other than the middle of the street.”
The man whipped his head to and fro, and his mouth flopped open a few times. “Is that where I am?”
“Come on,” Ben encouraged him as he led the man out of the street.
Ferox snorted again and pulled the carriage out of the flow of traffic. I followed the two men and Ben set the drunkard on a barrel a stone’s throw away from the bar out of which he’d been himself thrown.
The man dropped back against the wall and blinked furiously. “Well, that’s awfully nice of ya, young fella. What’s yer name?”
Ben grinned. “Have you forgotten it already, Mr. Dugal?”
Dugal leaned forward and squinted at Ben. After a moment’s study, his eyes widened and a grin spread across his stubby face. “Well, I’ll be! Ben!” He clapped a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “By the powers of nature, how you’ve grown! What happened to that skinny lad I used to sling over my shoulder and toss into the sties?”
Ben chuckled. “I’m afraid I’m a little too old to be swimming with the pigs.”
Dugal shook his head. “Pity. They were awful fond of you. Especially the sows.” He fumbled a moment longer with the cork and wrinkled his nose before he shoved the bottle against Ben’s chest. “Do an old man a favor and open this bottle, will ya?”
Ben took the bottle and shook his head. “I’d rather have a conversation with you and not the bottom of the bottle.”
Dugal sneered. “Perish the thought. ‘To be sober is to be dead,’ that’s my motto.”
“I thought it was to ‘focus on the spirit rather than the mind,’” Ben reminded him.
