---a nod to the vampire's of Ring World and the...distraction... they caused me so many years ago--
"Aht! Aht!" Brendon called out and snapped the lead reigns lightly.
The pair of oxen leaned into the yokes on their backs, the wooden wagon creaking and rocking up the slope of the hill.
Brendon glanced to the left at the woman sitting next to him.
"I'm... not sure if..." the woman began and then shuddered before beginning again, "I'm not sure if I can be going on with this."
Brendon hawked and spat over the side of the wagon and snapped the lead reigns again. He ran the fingers of a hand through his thinning gray hair, scalp covered in liver spots and fought back a curse. The wagon, more akin to a giant keg on wheels gave a sudden jolt, an oversized wooden wheel bouncing over a rock in the ill kept road.
"I've done paid ye half yer gold sovereign," Brendon replied when the woman failed to say more, "The time ta be naysain was twenty miles back afore we left Michelsberg!"
"I's the right ta tell ye what I want!" the woman shot back.
"Aye, ye do," Brendon replied calmly, "And I's the right ta have you up afore the Bench ta see me money back and twice more fer the waste ye put me through."
The woman's face turned scarlet and she seemed to swell in her simple, linen one piece dress. She tossed her head to get her long, silky black hair out of her face while she glared at Brendon down her long, narrow nose.
"You'd do no such thing, Brendon Miller!" the woman shot back, "Vampire huntin's illegal and you'd end up dancin a pretty jig if'n ye did!"
Brendon gave a nod and a smile.
"Aye, an look who's sittin her aside me helpin ta hunt them vampires," Brendon replied, "I'd not be the only one to be dancin a jig.
"And me... I'm old 'nough not ta be fearin a short drop ta me maker, and spiteful 'nough ta go afore the Bench ta be gettin mine back just ta spite ye if ya go an naysay now!"
The woman glared at Brendon for a moment before turning to look down the ill used, overgrown tract. A crow gave a sharp caw before a dozen of the evil, black birds took wing with a soft explosion of sound.
"Why ya needin me fer anyhows?" the woman asked softly.
"You know," Brendon replied.
The two rode on in silence for several minutes with only the harsh brrrr of insects and thrill of birds to keep them company. Brendon leaning far out to the side to glance back to see the three men trailing them, two carrying heavy crossbows with an iron tipped quarrel already spanned.
"Will it be hurtin?" the woman asked softly.
Brendon sighed and snapped the reigns, the oxen snorting through their noses.
"No more'n any other time ye've flipped yer skirt up on the docks for a silver penny," Brendon replied, "An ye'll be makin a sight more ta flip yer skirt this time."
They rode in silence again for several minutes, every stone, every root the cart bounced over hitting them both in the ass and bouncing them up off the unsprung wooden bench. Brendon glanced over at the woman's ashen, worried expression and took pity.
"I've told ye how it's ta be, Agnes," Brendon said quietly, Agnes giving a slight flinch but not replying, "The lad's 'ill be doin all the work, all ye needs ta do is keep one a them... preoccupied as such so he doesn't go runnin off or takin after one a the other lads.
"Yer there ta be keepin one a the lads from doin himself or one a us a mischief."
Agnes gave a snort of a laugh and glanced over at Brendon, "That a problem, is it? One a yer strappin, fine fellas takin a hankerin fer another?"
"No one's right in the head wh..." Brendon began.
"Hoy!" a voice called from ahead.
Brendon glanced up to the top the crest of the hill they were climbing, Joshua, Pritchard, and Karl waving and pointing beyond.
"Do what yer told, just do what comes natural, and ye'll make more ta be flippin yer skirt up today then you'd have turned in a year with no harm to come aside from beings sore'n bow legged fer a week!" Brendon said and brought the cart to a stop as soon as they reached the crest.
The valley beyond fell away in a riot of green, second growth oak, maple, ash and elm filling what had once been farms with cleared fields and grazing pasture. No more than a mile away a steep hill poked through the green, a broken, rotten, blackened tooth topping it the remains of the motte of old Sheridan, burned and partially collapsed. The bailey faired little better, burned and gutted wattle and daub homes, many tumbled down into gaping cellar holes surrounded by a wooden palisade shattered in several locations.
"How close do you want to be getting?" Joshua asked when Brendon stopped the wagon next to the men.
"We'll take the wagon right up ta the gate," Brendon replied after setting the brake and jumping down from the high seat, "Firsthand thiugh, gather roun'."
He opened a box and pulled out chocks he used to kick beneath the right hand wheel and then pulled out a handful of handkerchiefs and a wooden flask.
Last he pulled out a handful of wooden sticks, one noticeably shorter than the others.
"Move your arses!" Brendon called to the three men coming up from behind, "You're like a gaggle a old women comin home from the Sunday sermon!"
The men broke into a jog and soon joined the group standing to the right of the wagon, several casting an occasional glance up at Agnes who sat rigidly in her seat, her hands clasped tightly together.
"Alright, draw," Brendon said once all the men were gathered together and held out the sticks in a clenched fist.
Each man pulled out a stick and proffered it to the others until the fourth man, Joshua, pulled out the much shorter length. He stared nervously at the stick and then gave a furtive glance up at Agnes who was still staring straight ahead.
"Lucky bastard!" Petter, one of the men from the rear carrying a crossbow said and slapped Joushua on the back hard enough to stagger him.
