LJI F&R 2: Second thoughts...
Dec. 14th, 2015 08:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alexpgp[Previously...]
The first few steps back toward the town were easy; the next dozen took quite some effort, as I thought about my situation and considered just what I was getting myself into by going back there by myself.
I came to a halt in front of a tree, of a species whose roots formed calf-high barriers for some distance from the trunk before disappearing into the grouned. One such root lay across the track to town, and I stubbed my toe as I misjudged its height while trying to step over it. Suppressing a rude word, I hopped over to the base of the tree, a few yards off the path, and sat down to rub my foot.
As I did so, my mind started replaying the events the previous evening, focusing on the man Malon, whose outward appearance was pleasant enough—handsome, even—until he moved or spoke, and then you understood you were in the presence of a vile thing, a serpent in human guise, with arbitrary caprices, lascivious appetites, and no scruples at all.
In any event, that was Lascaux's and my experience the previous night, after arriving at the town's inn. We had arrived shortly before sunset, and took a table toward the back, opposite the kitchen, next to the wall. Never take a seat with your back to a door, Lascaux used to say, and he never did.
The dining hall of the inn was spacious, with the usual collection of mounted animal heads and such on the walls, a number of tables with benches for customers, and a roaring fireplace a person of my stature could walk into while standing erect. What made the place unusual was a spring that gently gurgled up through the floor near the fireplace and drained to somewhere outside the building along an open trough. Small black and white stones decorated the bottom of the spring and the trough.
Most of the other tables in the hall were occupied by the time we arrived, but the table that drew Lascaux's immediate attention was the one at which a group of four large men sat, eating meat with their hands and washing the meat down with ale. Their conversation ranged from loud remarks of a generally crude nature to a quiet, conspiratorial buzz, all punctuated by peals of raucous laughter and cursing. Despite annoyed expressions on the faces of other customers, nobody rose to complain, and the landlord pointedly made believe that nothing untoward was occurring. At one point, as we were finishing our dinner, Lascaux caught my attention, pointed to the group with his eyes, and made a sign to me with his fingers that meant “caution!” When I replied with a questioning look, his old eyes hardened and he repeated the sign, slowly, as if to emphasize the message.
Just then, the front door opened and a group of five people entered the hall. As the group came up to the table where the four men sat, I guessed that, apart from the two young men who looked like they belonged at the table with the four men already seated, the other three were a family: a man, his spouse, and their daughter.
It was an easy enough guess. The man stood protectively between the table and the two women, and the older woman stood as if to shield the younger woman. For her part, the girl was obviously her parents' daughter, having inherited her mother's red hair and her father's chin. The rest of her was pretty easy to look at, as well, though my admiration was interrupted by a sharp kick to the shin from Lascaux's side of the table. Again, he flashed that sign at me.
Then one of the men at the table stood up, wiped his hands on his shirt, and addressed the dining hall.
“Good citizens!” he began, “You all know me to be a fair man.” Other customers stopped what they were doing and shifted their attention to him. As I turned to look at the man, I recalled Lascaux's long-ago admonition, A man who makes a point of telling you he's fair almost certainly isn't.
“The facts of the matter are these,” continued the speaker, casting his gaze around the room. “Over the past few years, several strokes of ill fortune have caused farmer Slamin, here, to borrow sums of money from me from time to time. I have been patient, agreeing to collect only interest on the balance from farmer Slamin, but now, the time to repay the principal has come due, and I am told he cannot pay it. Is this correct, farmer Slamin?”
“Master Malon, if you'll only...” began the farmer, but was interrupted.
“It's a simple question, my good sir. Am I correct or not?” There was a glint of steel in Malon's voice.
The man nodded his head. Malon continued.
“The security that farmer Slamin offered for my financial aid in his hours of need was the only thing of value he had to offer—the hand of his daughter in marriage. Is this not correct, sir?” he said, addressing the last few words to the farmer.
“Yes,” came the barely audible reply.
“Now, despite the fact that I would be perfectly justified in exercising my legal rights and taking possession, so to speak, of your daughter—who is quite a beauty...” said Malon, allowing himself to be distracted and not trying in the least to conceal the lust in his voice. “I am, as I said, a fair man, and will allow fortune to intervene one last time in your favor before I do so.”
At this, Malon picked up a bowl of nuts that was on the table and emptied the contents into a little pile on the table. He then stepped over to the water trough, bent down, and picked out two stones—one white; the other, black—and made a show of putting them in the bowl.
“This is what I propose,” said Malon, standing up and rattling the stones in the bowl. “As you can see, I've placed one white stone and one black stone into this bowl. A stone will be chosen. If the black stone is chosen, then I shall claim your daughter as my bride and your debt will be canceled. If, however, the white stone is chosen, then not only will I renounce my claim to your daughter, but your debt shall be canceled as well. Is that not fair?” The farmer nodded, more as an acknowledgment of what had been said than agreeing with it.
“Now we just need a stranger—a disinterested party—to choose a stone,” said Malon, who again looked around the room, his eyes finally settling on me and Lascaux. He pointed out Lascaux to one of his men, who began moving in our direction. “Your face, my good man, is not familiar to me. You are a traveler, passing through our town?”
“Yes,” said Lascaux, after a moment.
“Are you an acquaintance of farmer Slamin?”
“No,” said Lascaux, shaking his head. Malon turned his attention to the farmer.
“And you, Slavin, do you know this man?” asked Malon.
“No,” said the farmer.
“Very well, then!” said Malon, with a smile, as Lascaux was brought up to where he stood. Malon then shook the bowl, raised it over Lascaux's head, and motioned for him to choose a stone. Lascaux hesitated for a few seconds, then stretched his arm above his head, fumbled in the bowl for a moment or two, and then withdrew a closed hand.
And before anyone could say or do anything, he took two quick steps to the trough, bent down, plunged his closed hand in the water, and then withdrew it, empty.
“I offer my apologies,” said Lascaux, rising to his feet, “but I couldn't bear the thought of being the agent of potentially unpleasant news for this family.” Lascaux nodded in the direction of Slamin. “We can easily tell the color of the stone that I chose, however,” he continued, “because the stone that was left behind will be of the opposite color.”
Without the slightest glance at the stone left in the bowl, Malon flung the bowl at the fireplace. When it struck the mantelpiece, the bowl shattered, and among the debris that fell onto the floor was a black stone, which bounced and spun for a little while before coming to rest. Malon turned to Slamin.
“It would appear fortune has smiled on you this evening,” he said. “Your debt is canceled. Your daughter is free. Go home now, and enjoy your family.” The look on Malon's face added, while you can. As Slamin and his family hastened out the front door, Malon turned to Lascaux and perfunctorily thanked him for his participation, in a voice that was anything but thankful.
Once Lascaux was seated at our table, I asked one question: "Two black stones?" Lascaux looked at me, made a little shrug, and nodded. Then he smiled, which was a rare thing for the old man to do. Later, when we tried to go up to our room, we were accosted by Malon's boys on the staircase and quickly escorted out a side door. And now, Lascaux is dead, I've been beaten unconscious, and...
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of running feet, and then I saw a flash of red hair as the young woman from the night before fell flat on her face after tripping over the root that blocked the track. She winced upon regaining her feet and taking a few steps, and while she was a little surprised to see me when she noticed my presence, she did not hesitate with formalities.
“Can you help me?” she said, with great urgency. “They have nearly caught up to me.” She extended her hand in my direction, which I grasped in mine. Her fingers felt warm to my touch.
Turning to the vines and bushes that lined the track, I quickly found a place where we could pass through without leaving a mark, and I gently parted some branches. “Follow me,” I said, and the girl and I left the track and disappeared into the brush.
[To: Part 3. Fremdschämen.]
The first few steps back toward the town were easy; the next dozen took quite some effort, as I thought about my situation and considered just what I was getting myself into by going back there by myself.
I came to a halt in front of a tree, of a species whose roots formed calf-high barriers for some distance from the trunk before disappearing into the grouned. One such root lay across the track to town, and I stubbed my toe as I misjudged its height while trying to step over it. Suppressing a rude word, I hopped over to the base of the tree, a few yards off the path, and sat down to rub my foot.
As I did so, my mind started replaying the events the previous evening, focusing on the man Malon, whose outward appearance was pleasant enough—handsome, even—until he moved or spoke, and then you understood you were in the presence of a vile thing, a serpent in human guise, with arbitrary caprices, lascivious appetites, and no scruples at all.
In any event, that was Lascaux's and my experience the previous night, after arriving at the town's inn. We had arrived shortly before sunset, and took a table toward the back, opposite the kitchen, next to the wall. Never take a seat with your back to a door, Lascaux used to say, and he never did.
The dining hall of the inn was spacious, with the usual collection of mounted animal heads and such on the walls, a number of tables with benches for customers, and a roaring fireplace a person of my stature could walk into while standing erect. What made the place unusual was a spring that gently gurgled up through the floor near the fireplace and drained to somewhere outside the building along an open trough. Small black and white stones decorated the bottom of the spring and the trough.
Most of the other tables in the hall were occupied by the time we arrived, but the table that drew Lascaux's immediate attention was the one at which a group of four large men sat, eating meat with their hands and washing the meat down with ale. Their conversation ranged from loud remarks of a generally crude nature to a quiet, conspiratorial buzz, all punctuated by peals of raucous laughter and cursing. Despite annoyed expressions on the faces of other customers, nobody rose to complain, and the landlord pointedly made believe that nothing untoward was occurring. At one point, as we were finishing our dinner, Lascaux caught my attention, pointed to the group with his eyes, and made a sign to me with his fingers that meant “caution!” When I replied with a questioning look, his old eyes hardened and he repeated the sign, slowly, as if to emphasize the message.
Just then, the front door opened and a group of five people entered the hall. As the group came up to the table where the four men sat, I guessed that, apart from the two young men who looked like they belonged at the table with the four men already seated, the other three were a family: a man, his spouse, and their daughter.
It was an easy enough guess. The man stood protectively between the table and the two women, and the older woman stood as if to shield the younger woman. For her part, the girl was obviously her parents' daughter, having inherited her mother's red hair and her father's chin. The rest of her was pretty easy to look at, as well, though my admiration was interrupted by a sharp kick to the shin from Lascaux's side of the table. Again, he flashed that sign at me.
Then one of the men at the table stood up, wiped his hands on his shirt, and addressed the dining hall.
“Good citizens!” he began, “You all know me to be a fair man.” Other customers stopped what they were doing and shifted their attention to him. As I turned to look at the man, I recalled Lascaux's long-ago admonition, A man who makes a point of telling you he's fair almost certainly isn't.
“The facts of the matter are these,” continued the speaker, casting his gaze around the room. “Over the past few years, several strokes of ill fortune have caused farmer Slamin, here, to borrow sums of money from me from time to time. I have been patient, agreeing to collect only interest on the balance from farmer Slamin, but now, the time to repay the principal has come due, and I am told he cannot pay it. Is this correct, farmer Slamin?”
“Master Malon, if you'll only...” began the farmer, but was interrupted.
“It's a simple question, my good sir. Am I correct or not?” There was a glint of steel in Malon's voice.
The man nodded his head. Malon continued.
“The security that farmer Slamin offered for my financial aid in his hours of need was the only thing of value he had to offer—the hand of his daughter in marriage. Is this not correct, sir?” he said, addressing the last few words to the farmer.
“Yes,” came the barely audible reply.
“Now, despite the fact that I would be perfectly justified in exercising my legal rights and taking possession, so to speak, of your daughter—who is quite a beauty...” said Malon, allowing himself to be distracted and not trying in the least to conceal the lust in his voice. “I am, as I said, a fair man, and will allow fortune to intervene one last time in your favor before I do so.”
At this, Malon picked up a bowl of nuts that was on the table and emptied the contents into a little pile on the table. He then stepped over to the water trough, bent down, and picked out two stones—one white; the other, black—and made a show of putting them in the bowl.
“This is what I propose,” said Malon, standing up and rattling the stones in the bowl. “As you can see, I've placed one white stone and one black stone into this bowl. A stone will be chosen. If the black stone is chosen, then I shall claim your daughter as my bride and your debt will be canceled. If, however, the white stone is chosen, then not only will I renounce my claim to your daughter, but your debt shall be canceled as well. Is that not fair?” The farmer nodded, more as an acknowledgment of what had been said than agreeing with it.
“Now we just need a stranger—a disinterested party—to choose a stone,” said Malon, who again looked around the room, his eyes finally settling on me and Lascaux. He pointed out Lascaux to one of his men, who began moving in our direction. “Your face, my good man, is not familiar to me. You are a traveler, passing through our town?”
“Yes,” said Lascaux, after a moment.
“Are you an acquaintance of farmer Slamin?”
“No,” said Lascaux, shaking his head. Malon turned his attention to the farmer.
“And you, Slavin, do you know this man?” asked Malon.
“No,” said the farmer.
“Very well, then!” said Malon, with a smile, as Lascaux was brought up to where he stood. Malon then shook the bowl, raised it over Lascaux's head, and motioned for him to choose a stone. Lascaux hesitated for a few seconds, then stretched his arm above his head, fumbled in the bowl for a moment or two, and then withdrew a closed hand.
And before anyone could say or do anything, he took two quick steps to the trough, bent down, plunged his closed hand in the water, and then withdrew it, empty.
“I offer my apologies,” said Lascaux, rising to his feet, “but I couldn't bear the thought of being the agent of potentially unpleasant news for this family.” Lascaux nodded in the direction of Slamin. “We can easily tell the color of the stone that I chose, however,” he continued, “because the stone that was left behind will be of the opposite color.”
Without the slightest glance at the stone left in the bowl, Malon flung the bowl at the fireplace. When it struck the mantelpiece, the bowl shattered, and among the debris that fell onto the floor was a black stone, which bounced and spun for a little while before coming to rest. Malon turned to Slamin.
“It would appear fortune has smiled on you this evening,” he said. “Your debt is canceled. Your daughter is free. Go home now, and enjoy your family.” The look on Malon's face added, while you can. As Slamin and his family hastened out the front door, Malon turned to Lascaux and perfunctorily thanked him for his participation, in a voice that was anything but thankful.
Once Lascaux was seated at our table, I asked one question: "Two black stones?" Lascaux looked at me, made a little shrug, and nodded. Then he smiled, which was a rare thing for the old man to do. Later, when we tried to go up to our room, we were accosted by Malon's boys on the staircase and quickly escorted out a side door. And now, Lascaux is dead, I've been beaten unconscious, and...
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of running feet, and then I saw a flash of red hair as the young woman from the night before fell flat on her face after tripping over the root that blocked the track. She winced upon regaining her feet and taking a few steps, and while she was a little surprised to see me when she noticed my presence, she did not hesitate with formalities.
“Can you help me?” she said, with great urgency. “They have nearly caught up to me.” She extended her hand in my direction, which I grasped in mine. Her fingers felt warm to my touch.
Turning to the vines and bushes that lined the track, I quickly found a place where we could pass through without leaving a mark, and I gently parted some branches. “Follow me,” I said, and the girl and I left the track and disappeared into the brush.
[To: Part 3. Fremdschämen.]
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no subject
Date: 2015-12-14 03:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-14 08:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-14 09:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-15 12:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-15 01:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-15 11:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-15 07:24 pm (UTC)Oh! I was going to share a different song, but Brecht/Weill's "Solomon Song" is appropriate:
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Date: 2015-12-15 07:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-15 07:36 pm (UTC)That said, there's a link to the first part of the story at the top of this installment! :^)
Cheers...
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Date: 2015-12-15 07:37 pm (UTC)"The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong... but that's the way to bet!" (Damon Runyon)
Cheers...
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Date: 2015-12-15 07:37 pm (UTC)Cheers...
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Date: 2015-12-15 07:39 pm (UTC)Me, I'm looking forward to figuring out how I'm going to do this "installment" thing without alienating people who don't discover the story until later. (I'm sure this issue was discussed in previous iterations of LJI, I just don't know where to find any conclusions that may have been drawn on the topic.)
Cheers...
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Date: 2015-12-15 07:40 pm (UTC)Cheers...
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Date: 2015-12-15 07:40 pm (UTC)I'm glad you're liking this.
Cheers...
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Date: 2015-12-15 07:41 pm (UTC)The back story seemed like the next logical step.
Cheers...
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Date: 2015-12-15 07:43 pm (UTC)Спасибо за ваших пожелания по случаю моего дня рождения.
Cheers...
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Date: 2015-12-15 07:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-15 09:25 pm (UTC)Poor Lascaux paid a very high price for helping that family, though I think he was already certain the bowl held two black stones and he know what his trick would cost him.
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Date: 2015-12-16 02:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-16 05:29 pm (UTC)I have heard the two stone folklore...but I liked the twist here ...great continuation from where u left last week...and now I want to know..what happens next? Got me hooked for sure...:) Good job!
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Date: 2015-12-16 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-16 10:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-17 07:30 am (UTC)This is wonderfully crafted. I like Lascaux. I'm sorry he's gone. And the introduction of a redhead is generally a good omen. 😊
I expect there is more to come which makes me very happy. Well done!
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Date: 2015-12-17 12:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-17 03:37 pm (UTC)Glad you liked it.
Cheers...
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Date: 2015-12-17 03:39 pm (UTC)Thanks for the kind words.
Cheers...
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Date: 2015-12-17 03:39 pm (UTC)Glad you're hooked.
Cheers...
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Date: 2015-12-17 03:40 pm (UTC)Cheers...
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Date: 2015-12-17 03:40 pm (UTC)Cheers...
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Date: 2015-12-17 03:41 pm (UTC)You betchum!
Glad you liked it.
Cheers...
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Date: 2015-12-17 03:42 pm (UTC)Cheers...
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Date: 2015-12-17 05:48 pm (UTC)Peace~~~D
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Date: 2015-12-17 11:14 pm (UTC)~
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Date: 2015-12-19 12:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-19 10:40 pm (UTC)