‘What are you doing, woman!’ he screamed, spittle flying as he turned beetroot red and frothed at the mouth. ‘Out of my way!’
Marianne had run between the knight’s horse and the forest looming before him, blocking his path.
‘Stop! The creature has done nothing to you!’ she yelled, turning her back to the woods and waving her arms.
The knight pulled hard upon the reins. The grey horse stopped moving forward and pranced on the spot, its iron-shod hooves cutting divots into the sodden earth. Pulling the reins to the left, he caused the horse to spin anticlockwise as he whipped his head around, looking down at the woman before him.
She was small, or appeared so from his mount, dressed well, not wealthy nor a pauper, her long dark hair pulled back from her face and held by a leather thong. Hands raised, imploring him to stop. Fear and uncertainty showed on her face.
The two faced off, the knight getting his mount under control. He could feel it was still tense and anxious, its nostrils flared, pulling upon the reins, trying to loosen them to get its head free. He glanced beyond the woman into the shadows of the forest behind her, but saw nothing.
‘Move aside, woman!’
‘NO! Why are you here?’ she asked, glancing over her shoulder.
‘I’m to kill the beast! To rid the village of the nuisance!’ he called again as he pulled the reins to the right, turning the horse again, trying to break its focus to calm it. The rump of the horse passing close to Marianne caused her to jump clear, closer to the forest behind her.
‘It’s not dangerous, leave it be.’
‘I can’t. I’m told it is taking stock, causing havoc for the village. They want to see it dead. I must free the village of the creature.’
‘It’s not killing the stock. It is harmless; it eats nothing more than the branches and leaves of trees.’
‘Rubbish, woman, that is not what the village says.’ His horse finally stopped, as the scare of the woman blocking its path faded, to the point that the knight sat into the saddle, easing the grip of his knees, further calming his mount.
‘They lie. They know it’s not the creature killing their stock,’ she pleaded. ‘They’ve seen the creature; they know it is not this creature that does the damage.’
‘I’ve seen the remains, girl. The cattle and sheep have been gorged, their throats ripped, fur and skin flayed by the beast.’ He scanned the forest behind her, trying to see and spy the creature. This was where the villagers had said it would be, in here, where the woodcutter's path entered the woods.
‘It’s not this creature, I swear. If you could see it, you would realise it is not possible.’
He looked down upon her, weighing up the situation, thinking. He’d gotten the village, in their fear, to agree to submit to the word of his god if he was to rid them of the beast. Yet here she stands, declaring its timidness, its innocence. How was it possible? Is she in league with the beast? His mind whirled as he tried to reconcile the bloodiness of the livestock they’d shown him with the woman standing before him.
‘Show me.’
Without asking, she turned and walked to a hedge at the edge of the path they were upon, reaching into it and snapping, tearing a branch free, a clump of leaves coming off with it. Walking towards the nearest tree on the edge of the forest, she thrashed the branches against the trunk and whistled, calling into the woods. ‘It’s okay, little one, you can come out.’ She shook the branch.
After waiting a minute, he was about to speak and declare enough, and then it appeared, extending towards the clump of leaves—a creature's head, easily the same size as his horse’s. Before the creature could bite the head of leaves from the branch, Marianne stepped away, taking the branch with her.
The creature stopped momentarily, its head tilting a little, and began to move forward. Revealing a neck that went for three to four feet before revealing the true bulk of the creature, it was enormous, its girth as large as two horses, its shoulder broad and an easy 18 hands high, higher than his mount, towering over the woman in front of it.
The horse's ears flattened to its head, whinnying. Again stomping, pulling at the reins, trying to get its head—to flee or attack, he did not know. He reined it in again.
Marianne shook the branch again, cooing, luring the creature further from the shadows of the forest. ‘See,’ she spoke over her shoulder towards the knight in a calm, semi-quiet tone, ‘no claws, not even teeth. There is no way this creature could have done the damage you’ve seen.’
The knight leant forward, patting his horse, talking to it quietly, calming it.
‘Can you lead it to the village?’
She looked at him. Could she trust him? ‘Why?’
‘If you want the creature to live, we need to show the villagers that it is not the killer. The most expedient way to do this is to show them.’
He looked alien to her, sitting atop the grey, his plate armour polished, the long pole rising 10 feet vertically from where it rested in the stirrup next to his right foot. His face, though, was human. She studied him.
‘You will need to help.’ She doubted it, what she’d heard of him before she even sighted him. Rumours said he did little; it was his lackeys, his squire, that did it all for him. Even now, she could see the squire in the distance, waiting, simply standing, watching from afar.
‘How?’
‘Go ahead, leave branches, lucerne, hay, anything you think would tempt a horse or cow. Leave it in the path, and we will follow.’
Without a word, an assumption of an unspoken command, he pulled the reins to the left, turning the horse, and walking it back towards his squire.
Marianne pulled the branch from the beast, having to tug it away, taking the opportunity to remove it as the jaw slackened whilst chewing. She began walking, following the direction the knight had taken. As she arrived at the point the squire had been standing, a carrot lay on the ground.
Breaking it in half, she held her hand out flat. The creature took it, crunching and eating, stepping forward, approaching her, nudging her, clearly wanting the second part of the carrot. Marianne smiled and walked on.
The carrot was followed by another, and as they passed through the orchards, apples took their place. The knight and his squire were nowhere to be seen, just the treats for the creature. This is how she proceeded, heading back towards the village.
Arriving mid-morning, she was surprised to see the fields leading to the town were unusually vacant, with no one working the fields, no driving of ploughs or drays, empty, as if it was the seventh day, the day of rest.
Getting closer to town, it became apparent why. The villagers who should’ve been in the fields were gathered in the town square, silent, waiting. In the middle of the square stood two troughs, one with water, the other burgeoning with heads of lettuce.
The creature paused at the sight of the crowd. Although they stood still, it sensed their presence, sniffing the air, hesitant. Marianne grew worried it would flee.
Standing to the right of the trough containing the heads of lettuce stood the knight, bereft of his horse, plate armour and lance. He stood in a padded leather doublet, trousers and fine boots, a sword sheathed over his left shoulder.
He bent and grabbed a lettuce, tossing it to her feet. ‘See if he likes lettuce.’
Marianne looked at him. He looked more human now, out of his armour and at the same level as herself. She nodded thank you to him, bent and picked up the lettuce. Turning, holding it high, she shook it towards the creature, which in its alert state had risen to its full height, three feet above where she held the lettuce.
The movement and the scent of the fresh lettuce grabbed its attention again, distracting it from the presence of the stilled crowd. It bent and took the lettuce whole in its mouth, returning upright, surveying the crowd, the sound of the lettuce crunching audibly as the creature chewed. Swallowing the lettuce, it sniffed the air, trying to discern the scents about it, searching for more of the sweet smell of lettuce amongst the smell of humans all about it.
Suddenly, it stopped sniffing, looking directly towards the trough of lettuce, and for the first time, broke from Marianne's lead and trotted about her directly towards the trough, bowing its head to take another lettuce. Again, returning to full height, looking about, surveying the crowd.
Swallowing, it bent down again and took another lettuce, returning upright to scan the crowd.
And another.
As it bent towards the trough again to get its fourth lettuce, the knight struck. Decapitating the creature in one fell swoop, severing its head immediately behind the skull.
The crowd broke into shouts and screams of horror, none louder than Marianne’s.
The knight shouted above the din, ‘IT IS DONE!’ thrusting both hands into the air, as if calling for the crowd's adulation, or upon his god for recognition.
‘IT IS DONE! NOW AS AGREED, YOU’LL BEND YOUR KNEE TO ME, YOUR LORD AND SAVIOUR, SIR GEORGE!!’
No comments:
Post a Comment