Chapter 82: Short Fight

I was not looking for a fight, but I found one. It was late in the day when I came to the roadside tavern, a small place as they go. I took care of my horse, used the privy and once inside found a circle of men in one corner, spectators to some sort of event. I got a beer and joined them, elbowing a few aside to see what was going on.

Rape was what was going on.

A big man with his white britches hanging loose at his knees along with his black galluses was buggering a good-sized young woman at the end of a table. The girl was spread out, holding on the far side where another man sat and, I now saw, he was gripping her wrists.

"Dumb - uh - bitch - ugh - dumb -damn'd - bitch - ugh - dumb - ugh - bitch." The litany went on and on as the big man savaged the girl's ass, ramming her hard against the edge of the table. Somehow he had gather two big hanks of her long hair, twisted them into ropes and then looped them through her mouth. He was now using her hairs as reins and keeping her head up as he used her as cursed her

"Who is she?" I asked the man standing next to me.

He shook his head. "She was selling duck eggs."

"Damn," I said, "he a redcoat?"

He nodded. "Nasty bastard."

I sat down my beer, pushed my way through the spectators, grabbed the big man by the arm and pulled him away from the girl, hitting him in the gut with a good right and in the mouth with a wild left. It was like hitting a brick wall.

His friend let go of the girl, and she slumped to the floor between us.

"That's my sister," I yelled at him. "Leave her alone."

"She's a stupid cunt," he roared, "insulted me, she did."

He was a big man, big in the chest and belly and thigh, heavier than I was by three or four stone and nearly as tall. I was fairly sure I could handle him, but I was worried about the other fellow who was extricating himself from the table and growling, a gleaming knife in his hand.

"Stay out of this," I yelled at him, drawing my big bayonet.

He lunged at me, tripped over the fallen girl and died at my feet. I pulled my big blade out of him and faced the Redcoat who had now pulled up his breeches but had not refastened his foreflap and his limp cock still hung out, purplish and heavy veined. He opened his arms wide. "Unarmed," he said.

"Leave," I said.

"Naw, fair fight's what I want. Your sister's a foul whore, but her ass's worth fighting for."

"Outside," I said, sheathing my bloody knife.

He nodded and backed away. I helped the girl to her feet and got her to sit down and rest her head on the table. "Get her some water," I said to the crowd as I watched the big man head for the door and button his waistband. I removed my heavy belt and gave it to the girl. She looked at me blankly.

The crowd from inside the tavern did not make much of a circle outside since there were only a dozen or so in number. But the soldier and I squared off in front of the tavern for a fight that, mercifully, did not last long. He charged at me, and I sidestepped and tripped him. I jumped on his back, twisted his head to the side, got both hands on it, and when he failed to ask for quarter, I broke his neck with a savage twist. It made a very loud crack and the big man slumped beneath me.

I went back inside, found my beer and sat across from the girl.

"Brother," she said, putting her hand atop mine. She gave me a wan smile.

"You all right?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Big bastard broke my basket and smashed my eggs."

"Why did he assault you like that?" I asked.

"Wouldn't kiss him," she said. "He just grabbed me and then, well, you saw."

"Who was he?" I asked, pointing at the dead man they were dragging our, the one leaving a blood trail on eh floor.

"Can't say. They were drinking together." She pushed back her long hair. "Did I thank you?"

I nodded. "Would you like a beer?"

She smiled and I ordered two. I noticed that although the small crowd had returned to the tavern, no one sat near us.