Chapter 5

After an early morning romp that left Stefan sated again, he rolled back over to steal a few more minutes of sleep. Even with the loss of the warm body curled up against him, the coziness of the overstuffed mattress with its scents was seductive. For the first time in many a year, Stefan had no desire to rise from the warm confines of a bed.

He next awoke to the poking of a broom handle in the middle of his back. The jabbing was annoying and insistent, and becoming too painful to ignore.

"Get your shaggy butt out of the mistress's bed. It's bad enough that you kept us up half of the night; now, you want to hold me back from my chores," the old voice groused.

"Have mercy, Esmie," Stefan whined, "I think your mistress drained me dry and left a husk of my former self in her bed."

"Braggart!" Esmie scoffed with a smack of her broom on his bicep. "You will not speak poorly of the lady, especially in her bedroom."

"Poorly?" Stefan haggled, "I am in awe of her worldly skills!"

He jumped out of the bed before the broomstick slapped the mattress with a distinct "thwack." Declining to run out to the privy, he took his time pissing in the long neck pitcher stored under the bed. With the nastiest of little smiles on his face for his tormentor, he shimmied into his clothes and walked out into the front room to put on his boots. Giving his muscles a stretch, he caught sight of a hunk of bread and cheese. Munching on his breakfast he opened the door leading to the shop.

"He still leans to the left, Methody," Esmie yelled at the top of her lungs. "You owe me two coppers, you old hag."

Stefan exited the shop with the sound of cackling laughter behind him, his pride intact and beaming. He thought about going directly to the garrison, but thought better of the idea and made his way to the brothel. The bleary eyed madam took one look at his uniform and told him to go upstairs to the second door on the left.

The weary strumpet opened her mouth to protest as he stepped into the room. She held back her tongue and instead, pointed with her finger when she surveyed his clothes. With a shrug, Stefan slapped his fellow on the butt with the same indignity as Esmie had done to him earlier. However, Gregor barely groaned.

"If he stays any longer, I'm going to charge him again for using my bed," the woman threatened.

"Help me sit him up," Stefan ordered, ignoring her carping. In a short time, they got the blond man seated, and Stefan yanked his cloth and trousers halfway up his legs, at least enough to get his boots on as well. With his unbuttoned blouse and jacket hanging off the drunken man's shoulders, Stefan stood Gregor up, holding him up with his arm. The woman pulled his pants up the rest of the way and with efficient, professional ease, buttoned him up.

Under Stefan's guidance, Gregor stumbled down the stairs and through the tavern into the street. Coming to his senses, Gregor lurched around the corner on his own and took a good, long piss on the wall. As he finished up, the madam came charging screaming that she wasn't going to pay the fine for pissing in the streets. Stefan and Gregor took off running down the street, even as Gregor tried to tuck himself back in his pants. The denizens of the street laughed as his manhood flapped every which way as the two soldiers fled to escape the screeching harridan.

They escaped into the outdoor market, where Gregor purchased his breakfast of steamed wild birds' eggs and a griddle cake. With a loud belch, Gregor declared his appreciation for the feast and the two made their way back to the garrison.

The Captain of the Guard seemed spectacularly unimpressed with the return of his temporary charges. He relayed the order to report to the Governor's office, and turned back to repairing the tack spread out on the floor. That a captain would condescend to such menial tasks was beyond their sensibilities, but both strategically chose not to comment. They gave brief salutes to his back and returned to the streets.

The governor kept them waiting for several hours, which didn't really bother the two young men. In the hallways of power and prestige, everyone kept the King's Guard waiting, and the governor was demonstrating that he was no different. Only the peasants leapt when the Guard approached. One of Gregor's many resources was his dice carved from a cow's hipbone. The men kept themselves suitably entertained until the secretary came out into the hall to summon them; Stefan was actually up a couple of coppers, not that they paid their debts off to one another. They ignored the look of distain on the man's face and followed him to the Governor's doors.

The Lord informed them that they would be returning to the capitol with a down payment of estimated taxes for the king's treasury. The Governor was scribbling on a piece of paper as he explained that if the King Gringolas wanted full payment, he had better send enough men to escort the coin safely back to his royal treasury. The reduced payment would be ready the second hour after sunup in the back courtyard.

As the two men turned to leave, Stefan was told to remain and Gregor was dismissed. The governor gave him a silent, close examination with his good eye.

The governor almost growled, "I understand that you are keeping our Healer company during your stay in Esala."

"Yes, my Lord," Stefan answered with immediate humility; his heartbeat ratcheted up as if he were ramping up to go into battle.

"How did this set of affairs come about?"

Stefan swallowed, "She sought me out and invited me, sir."

"So it was her choice," the Governor considered the fact. "Then let me voice my concerns. I know the experiences and reputation of the King's Guard, as your friend so amply typified throughout last evening. If you hurt the Healer Mirela in any manner, in body, soul, or even her feelings, I will have you flayed to the bone by sunset. Do I make myself clear, Guardsman?"