Careful for what you wish
'This is several weeks late.' greeted the noble.
'I know, I know.' was all he could manage in return. He had done the hardest part, herding them several miles to this place, where they would soon become someone else's problem. A problem of the sort that seemed totally out of place with this perfect weather. He understood the seasons, how for the largest part of the year, the climate dimmed and cooled in the most unpleasant of ways. If rain did not accompany the miserable conditions it would be sleet that would sting to the touch. The day had started misty as was common all over Caledonia year long but today the fog had been swept away by a gentle breeze. All that was left now was a perfect blue sky that any cloud would be ashamed to spoil. Even the colour was unlike anything he remembered, it seemed to insist those beneath look up to give due credit. There was no doubt in the mind of the noble that this thought consumed the shepherd and quickly relished an opportunity to break his vacant gaze.
'They're mangy beasts and nary worth the trouble.' he spat in the shepherd's direction.
'Twas but a long winter...' and as an afterthought at the trouble that might be endured, 'Fifty heads at your request, Sire.' was added without a hint of smile or disingenuous intonation. Though he fully expected that his verbal pandering would not be enough to appease. After all, it was several weeks late. His family stood around the pen where the animals had been held. The eldest was a girl and little use around the plot which he kept. It would be several more years before his son might be able to assist with rudimentary tasks. His wife had been met by the other women and they began to gossip and haggle over utilitarian matters. A noise similar in comparison to the gaggle of geese that walked freely amongst this scene. Birds that seemed to squawk in agreement that today was a day finer than any they could recall.
In the distance the hills rolled and seemingly reflected the blueness of the atmosphere. They represented a distance twice that of his home. Of course, by the time that he had returned, he could have quite well walked all the way there. It had been some time since he had embarked on that journey. The hills were a place where he had spent a large part of his youth and he felt pride in his ability to attest to knowing them as well as any other, or at least during this vein of thought. A river wound through the hills, falling in several places with one being the most beautiful of them all. By account of those who stumble and are luckily fated this encounter, its splendour would be confirmed.
'3 per head is more than they're worth.' muttered the noble, which jerked him from his daydream. Then he continued more emphatically with 'At the same quality I will not reward thee next time.'
'You're a good man. Bless you Sire.' he said with a glee that had been absent before this development. The noble walked away to be confronted with another merchant offering all manner of goods. Confirmed with swift relay of the purse, it was clear it had been settled before his arrival. Muneration imparted merely prevented him from a recount and wasting further time. His eyes flashed towards his wife, still engrossed in conversation with the other women, his daughter being courted by a local boy and lastly his son chasing around some hens in the distance. The feeling of the purse in his hand weighed more satisfactorily than he thought possible. A feeling coursed through his veins that he had not felt for some time and subsequently unrecognisable. Relentlessly yet mercifully the sun pounded down on his instantly successful transaction and for a moment he relished the smell of the air, warmth of the breeze and an innate joy for being alive.
When he looked up he was confronted by a young beautiful girl staring directly at him. Better still was that she smiled in understanding of his predicament. Though not dissimilar to his daughter in size she seemed more mature. Without an exchange of words a connection became immediately apparent. She carried under one arm a basket filled with breads and other produce that seemed irrelevant. Clean, was the first word that came to his mind in relation to her presence. Like all the other women she was wearing less than was normal for the other nine months of the year. Though she did not carry the air of a harlot. After what seemed to be minutes, the feeling from attainment of payment had not subsided. Only now it had increased and bordered on giddiness. Drunken and woozy he swayed on the spot and she watched on in silence.
She reminded him of his youth. Not a female specific to his history but the excitement and thrill of the unknown. He opened his eyes and then closed them again impervious to how silly he might appear. She realised that suddenly it might seem that she was now the one who looked out of place and meandered without any real purpose to an alternate viewpoint. Each step offered a feminine wile designed to enrage the most simple of men. Then he felt the guilt that attaches itself to holy matrimony. He had been faithful mostly for a natural inability to covet another. There was no spare money which could be wasted on drink or whores. These things were of little interest in the first place. However it was instinctive that his gaze dart towards his other half. She remained engrossed in the detail of nattering mouths, the same ones as before, or not, impossible to discern. When his eyes returned to the girl who stood opposite him moments ago, she now stood in the opposite direction perhaps talking herself into some free items. It all became a blur.
He stood in the sun, on a perfect Celtic day, with enough money for his family for half a year, his daughter in the grip of another, his son playing happily in a field, his wife doing that which made her happiest and a buxom female pleading for his attention. And he thought of his secret place in the hills. Grass softer than a finely woven cloth, the sound of a stream, sunshine like today and this beautiful young lass. He imagined that it would be a gentle and delicate encounter. Only that she would trust him enough that it would be as he pleased. There would be passion and it would be memorable. Afterwards, well, afterwards, he was much older than her and there would be sheep to be fed. His children and a life that no one knew how to keep but himself. It seemed more than plausible but just maybe it would yield an impossible result. He opened his eyes, silently sighing whilst staring into the sun and wondered if this is the way that this thought process should have progressed. Talked down from a stupid scenario before he even chanced whether it could be reality. As a last ditch attempt to reconcile these two worlds in his head, his focus returned to the girl. Now in a completely different spot, leaning against a gate, dismissing the boys that paid her attention on the way past, staring at him even more provocatively than before. Her skirt was now more than intentionally raised to expose the lower portion of her leg.
His lips parted as if he was to say something. Although a shout would have been required to reach the girl who stood with her eyes set upon his location. As his mouth reached the maximum width an almighty crash came down upon the right side of his head, above and upon his ear. The thud deafened him and he rolled away to the left gripping his skull as if he had been bludgeoned with a rock. A shriek escaped without his realising what happened. When he turned to the direction from which the blow had come he recognised the figure of his wife without the misfortune of focusing on her scowl. It seemed she had returned to conversation with the surrounding women and without breaking speech did not witness the outcome of her strike. In his head an intense squeal replaced the sound of activities that had filled the scene only seconds prior. The welling of tears that were never meant to be shed prevented him from seeing what happened to the imaginary girl in the distance.
