"Jumping to Conclusions"
Sometimes in trying to clean out the accumulated odds and ends, I find something that might possibly be a story. I love Fitz...
I really don’t remember when this Challenge was issued. I started it several years ago, but Fitz was being way too quiet. He finally decided to speak up…
Jumping to Conclusions
Hugh Fitzcarn was soaking wet. Worse than that, the dive off the Ponte Veccio had cost him his sword and the second money pouch he usually carried in his fashionable puffed breeches. The second assassin has sliced at his gut and a very fast turn was the only reason he wasn’t bleeding to death, or really dead at the hands of a pair of hired killers.
The sun was setting and that was not helping either. The sneeze nearly blew his head off and as soon as the world quit spinning, he looked around trying to figure out exactly where he was. Hummm, the riverbank had the look of a place used for washing clothes. He shivered and sneezed again. Well, this was not getting him any dryer.
Village lights showed downstream so Fitz decided to throw himself on the mercy of some local innkeeper’s wife for a meal and a dry place to sleep. “And who knows, she might like a tale to wile away the evening and a bit of ale for the teller.”
The village didn’t look very lively. He could hear a few dogs and there were rooting noises from behind a small hut, but nothing that even looked like an Inn. Fitz walked a bit further, deciding he just might have to roll into a convenient haystack, when he heard a horse coming up the path behind him.
The rider didn’t seem inclined to stop, so he got out of the way. “Well, you aren’t a bandit, but damn if I know what you are!”
The voice was that of a woman, though the figure rode astride like a man.
“Dear Lady, I am no bandit, only a poor fellow set upon and brought to the sad pass you see by misadventure. Hugh Fitzcarn, your humble servant,” he said, bowing deeply, though the effect was spoiled by the massive sneeze.
“Did you fall off a boat?
“Off a bridge, Milady, and barely kept my head above water until the welcoming shore of your charming village gave me respite from my unintended swim.”
She laughed, no silver chime here, her laugh was rich and full and Hugh found himself laughing with her in spite of the fact that he was rapidly freezing to death.
“Well, friend Fitzcarn, I am Magdalena di Espada, the village is Lastra a Signa and a full twenty miles down the river from Florence. Quit a swim.”
“True enough, Milady, but the alternative was not an attractive one.” He bowed, making another flourish of it, but he sneezed again and his hat, bedraggled plume and all, wound up in the dusty road.
Her laugh rang out around him. “Perhaps a change of clothes and a place by the fire would be agreeable?”
“Ah, I knew the moment we met that you were a lady of great perceptions.”
“Well, I’m not a lady, but I do have a small house on the other side of town. Father will be wanting dinner and there’s more than enough in the pot to warm you up. I think Nicodemus can carry both of us”
She reached down and braced him enough to get his foot in the stirrup and settled behind her on the broad backed horse. Her saddlebags clanked and he found gripping with his knees painful, but it was a short ride. The house wasn’t large, but it did indicate that the family was definitely not poverty stricken. Hugh slid to the ground to assist her, but she was down and leading the horse around the back of the house before he make the offer.
Hugh followed her, expecting to see a stable. The building was not exactly a stable. Oh, there was a comfortable stall but a good-sized forge took up the rest of it. She opened the saddlebags, returning tools to their places around the anvil and bellows.
“Father’s a blacksmith, is he?”
The glare she gave him should have killed him. “My father is a sword smith and one of the very best. He studied in Toledo and Damascus and he taught me!”
Fitz said nothing for a long moment. “Milady, I meant no offence, truly.”
She busied herself with the horse, wiping him down and then hanging up the tack. Fitz’s attempt at helping was simply ignored. She went into the back, returning with a pail of water and measure of grain. She hadn’t spoken to him again.
Cursing to himself for assuming things, he followed her back to the house. Wrapped in shawls, a figure sat in a wicker wheeled chair by the fire. He looked up as they came in, but said nothing.
“Papa? I’ve brought a fine gentleman from Florence to talk to you. Will you entertain him while I go find him something dry to wear. He tells me he swam here from the city.”
The old man looked suspiciously at Fitz. “Swam, from Florence? Impossible.”
Fitz laughed, “My dear sir, when you are beset by people who have no regard for your charm and skill, there are many things done that would not happen in gentler times.”
He nodded. “True enough, I suppose... We’re too far from Florence for Fernando’s enemies to pay us any mind most of the time, but there are still bandits in the hills. I worry when Lena goes out. Devils!”
Lena was back quickly with an armful of dry things for their guest. “Father, I promised our friend something dry to wear and a place to sleep for the night. Let him go change out of the wet clothes and we can have our supper. You can question him later.”
When Fitz returned, Lena was showing her father a dagger, small, but finely made. “The hilt was damaged. He wants a matching one. For his lover, I think, though he would not say so.”
“You know how to fold the metal. Other than that, setting the jewels is the only difficulty.”
“I have two weeks. Will you examine it when it is finished?”
“Yes, but Lena, you are as skilled as ever I was. Your hands do not shake. You are better with the fine work, you know that.”
Fitz sauntered in, “I thank you for the loan of the clothing, sir. Am I interrupting?”
Lena quickly put the small dagger away. “No, not at all. I have a commission from one of our patrons. Father has done work for him in the past…”
“Lena, it is long past time for our supper.” The old man’s tone was sharp.
Lena looked a little startled, but obediently began to serve. Fitz was ravenous and happy to have the fresh ham, fresh greens, warm bread and butter. There was homemade wine, too and Hugh Fitzcarn was never one to turn down a good glass of wine.
Finally, Lena’s father was dozing, his chin resting on his chest.
Quietly, Lena began to remove the dishes.
“May I make up for my earlier lack of judgment by assisting you?”
She nodded and they quickly cleaned the bowls at the pump and fed the leavings to the geese.
Fitz helped her settle her father in his bed. They returned to the main room and Lena poured both of them glasses of wine. “So, now, Master Hugh, if that really is your name, how did you get here and what do you really want?”
“Madam, you wound me. I spoke the God’s Truth!”
She looked at him, shook her head, “You are far more used to tales than truth, sir. I will have truth, or you will leave with the clothes you came here in and nothing else.”
“I truly am Hugh Fitzcarn and I was forced to make an unconventional exit from the city by people who resented my attentions to a lovely young woman. I had no idea that she was wed to one of the Duke’s bankers.”
“You did what?” She started laughing.
Fitz hung his head, “A mistake in judgment, I’d only been there a day or two. A friend of mine was to meet me, but he hadn’t arrived and I thought to pass the time with a harmless flirtation. I assure you, I had no idea that she was being watched by her husband’s guards.”
“Lately, everyone has someone watching everyone else. It’s become a nest of vipers, everyone suspecting everyone else… If my father could travel, I would take him away from this place.”
“I’m sorry to hear of the sad changes here, Magdalena, when I was here a few years ago, all I needed to be worried about was the girl’s father. Duncan says I should be more careful, but beauty… Somehow it makes everything else fade away…”
“Duncan?”
The friend I was expecting. He was traveling here from Rome.”
She motioned out the window, “This road leads to Rome. If you follow it, you could meet him.”
“Ah, but I would not leave you here, by yourself.”
The look on her face was a study in self-control.
He paused, realizing that he’d best remove his foot from his mouth, “Uh… Again, I find myself in an awkward position.”
She nodded, “Yes?”
Fitzcairn shrugged, “I meant only that you might be safer…”
He was saved by a thud from her father’s bedroom. She stood very still for a moment. Without another word, she opened the door. Her father was still. The water jug, broken, on the floor beside his bed explained the sound they’d heard.
“He’s gone.” She was silent, her hands twisted in the linen skirt.
“I’m so sorry, Magdalena. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
She took in a deep breath and turned to him, “As a matter of fact, yes. Are you still journeying toward Rome?”
“It was my plan, but I could postpone my travels…”
“Could you deal with a traveling companion?
“You would leave your home?”
“Rather than be forced to marry to save it, yes.” She shrugged, eyes filling with tears, “My father is dead. That cannot be changed. No one knew how ill he was. No one knew I was doing the work of a sword smith. If I try now, I’ll be laughed at and married off to some idiot before the harvest.”
“Milady, I’d be happy to accompany you, but… if your town is like most of them, won’t tongues wag if you leave with a handsome stranger?”
In spite of her sorrow, Magdalena laughed. “Perhaps, perhaps. but I won’t be here to listen to them. My father was the only one I cared about, Hugh.” She looked around the room. “He had the soul of a Viking.”
The fire had gone out in the old stone fireplace. Her comment gave Fitzcairn an idea. “What would you say to a Viking funeral of a sort?”
She looked bewildered for a moment, and then smiled, “We can let the house be his pyre!”
He nodded, “How long will it take for us to pack what you need?”
She looked around the room, “I think everything will fit in the small cart. If we break down the gate it will look like Nicodemus ran away. I can turn the cow loose. Someone will be glad to take her in.”
“I’ll take the cart on up the road and come back to help set the fire.”
“There’s an abandoned farm there. We could stay there until it’s light enough to travel.”
Fitz spent the next few hours fetching and carrying as Magdalena made choices as to what they would take along and what would be left to burn. He took the loaded cart up to the farm and returned to help her with the cow and getting the small pack ready to go.
Finally she had him help her take her father to lie next to his anvil. His leather apron was tied on and she placed one of the older hammers in his hand.
“Father, you were the best teacher I could have had. You should have lived longer.” She brought a candle from the bedroom and lit some of the straw. Coals from the forge were brought in and started the rear wall of the house smoldering. They watched and waited until the fire was spreading on it’s own. Then they mounted Nicodemus and rode off up the road to the barn.
Days later they parted company with Fitz heading to Rome. Lena cut her hair and dressed in some of her father’s clothes. “Father’s friends in Toledo will help me. They often asked him to come and stay with them.”
“Perhaps we’ll meet again, Lena. I know one thing, I will be more careful not to jump to conclusions about lovely ladies from here on in.”
-30-
I really don’t remember when this Challenge was issued. I started it several years ago, but Fitz was being way too quiet. He finally decided to speak up…
Jumping to Conclusions
Hugh Fitzcarn was soaking wet. Worse than that, the dive off the Ponte Veccio had cost him his sword and the second money pouch he usually carried in his fashionable puffed breeches. The second assassin has sliced at his gut and a very fast turn was the only reason he wasn’t bleeding to death, or really dead at the hands of a pair of hired killers.
The sun was setting and that was not helping either. The sneeze nearly blew his head off and as soon as the world quit spinning, he looked around trying to figure out exactly where he was. Hummm, the riverbank had the look of a place used for washing clothes. He shivered and sneezed again. Well, this was not getting him any dryer.
Village lights showed downstream so Fitz decided to throw himself on the mercy of some local innkeeper’s wife for a meal and a dry place to sleep. “And who knows, she might like a tale to wile away the evening and a bit of ale for the teller.”
The village didn’t look very lively. He could hear a few dogs and there were rooting noises from behind a small hut, but nothing that even looked like an Inn. Fitz walked a bit further, deciding he just might have to roll into a convenient haystack, when he heard a horse coming up the path behind him.
The rider didn’t seem inclined to stop, so he got out of the way. “Well, you aren’t a bandit, but damn if I know what you are!”
The voice was that of a woman, though the figure rode astride like a man.
“Dear Lady, I am no bandit, only a poor fellow set upon and brought to the sad pass you see by misadventure. Hugh Fitzcarn, your humble servant,” he said, bowing deeply, though the effect was spoiled by the massive sneeze.
“Did you fall off a boat?
“Off a bridge, Milady, and barely kept my head above water until the welcoming shore of your charming village gave me respite from my unintended swim.”
She laughed, no silver chime here, her laugh was rich and full and Hugh found himself laughing with her in spite of the fact that he was rapidly freezing to death.
“Well, friend Fitzcarn, I am Magdalena di Espada, the village is Lastra a Signa and a full twenty miles down the river from Florence. Quit a swim.”
“True enough, Milady, but the alternative was not an attractive one.” He bowed, making another flourish of it, but he sneezed again and his hat, bedraggled plume and all, wound up in the dusty road.
Her laugh rang out around him. “Perhaps a change of clothes and a place by the fire would be agreeable?”
“Ah, I knew the moment we met that you were a lady of great perceptions.”
“Well, I’m not a lady, but I do have a small house on the other side of town. Father will be wanting dinner and there’s more than enough in the pot to warm you up. I think Nicodemus can carry both of us”
She reached down and braced him enough to get his foot in the stirrup and settled behind her on the broad backed horse. Her saddlebags clanked and he found gripping with his knees painful, but it was a short ride. The house wasn’t large, but it did indicate that the family was definitely not poverty stricken. Hugh slid to the ground to assist her, but she was down and leading the horse around the back of the house before he make the offer.
Hugh followed her, expecting to see a stable. The building was not exactly a stable. Oh, there was a comfortable stall but a good-sized forge took up the rest of it. She opened the saddlebags, returning tools to their places around the anvil and bellows.
“Father’s a blacksmith, is he?”
The glare she gave him should have killed him. “My father is a sword smith and one of the very best. He studied in Toledo and Damascus and he taught me!”
Fitz said nothing for a long moment. “Milady, I meant no offence, truly.”
She busied herself with the horse, wiping him down and then hanging up the tack. Fitz’s attempt at helping was simply ignored. She went into the back, returning with a pail of water and measure of grain. She hadn’t spoken to him again.
Cursing to himself for assuming things, he followed her back to the house. Wrapped in shawls, a figure sat in a wicker wheeled chair by the fire. He looked up as they came in, but said nothing.
“Papa? I’ve brought a fine gentleman from Florence to talk to you. Will you entertain him while I go find him something dry to wear. He tells me he swam here from the city.”
The old man looked suspiciously at Fitz. “Swam, from Florence? Impossible.”
Fitz laughed, “My dear sir, when you are beset by people who have no regard for your charm and skill, there are many things done that would not happen in gentler times.”
He nodded. “True enough, I suppose... We’re too far from Florence for Fernando’s enemies to pay us any mind most of the time, but there are still bandits in the hills. I worry when Lena goes out. Devils!”
Lena was back quickly with an armful of dry things for their guest. “Father, I promised our friend something dry to wear and a place to sleep for the night. Let him go change out of the wet clothes and we can have our supper. You can question him later.”
When Fitz returned, Lena was showing her father a dagger, small, but finely made. “The hilt was damaged. He wants a matching one. For his lover, I think, though he would not say so.”
“You know how to fold the metal. Other than that, setting the jewels is the only difficulty.”
“I have two weeks. Will you examine it when it is finished?”
“Yes, but Lena, you are as skilled as ever I was. Your hands do not shake. You are better with the fine work, you know that.”
Fitz sauntered in, “I thank you for the loan of the clothing, sir. Am I interrupting?”
Lena quickly put the small dagger away. “No, not at all. I have a commission from one of our patrons. Father has done work for him in the past…”
“Lena, it is long past time for our supper.” The old man’s tone was sharp.
Lena looked a little startled, but obediently began to serve. Fitz was ravenous and happy to have the fresh ham, fresh greens, warm bread and butter. There was homemade wine, too and Hugh Fitzcarn was never one to turn down a good glass of wine.
Finally, Lena’s father was dozing, his chin resting on his chest.
Quietly, Lena began to remove the dishes.
“May I make up for my earlier lack of judgment by assisting you?”
She nodded and they quickly cleaned the bowls at the pump and fed the leavings to the geese.
Fitz helped her settle her father in his bed. They returned to the main room and Lena poured both of them glasses of wine. “So, now, Master Hugh, if that really is your name, how did you get here and what do you really want?”
“Madam, you wound me. I spoke the God’s Truth!”
She looked at him, shook her head, “You are far more used to tales than truth, sir. I will have truth, or you will leave with the clothes you came here in and nothing else.”
“I truly am Hugh Fitzcarn and I was forced to make an unconventional exit from the city by people who resented my attentions to a lovely young woman. I had no idea that she was wed to one of the Duke’s bankers.”
“You did what?” She started laughing.
Fitz hung his head, “A mistake in judgment, I’d only been there a day or two. A friend of mine was to meet me, but he hadn’t arrived and I thought to pass the time with a harmless flirtation. I assure you, I had no idea that she was being watched by her husband’s guards.”
“Lately, everyone has someone watching everyone else. It’s become a nest of vipers, everyone suspecting everyone else… If my father could travel, I would take him away from this place.”
“I’m sorry to hear of the sad changes here, Magdalena, when I was here a few years ago, all I needed to be worried about was the girl’s father. Duncan says I should be more careful, but beauty… Somehow it makes everything else fade away…”
“Duncan?”
The friend I was expecting. He was traveling here from Rome.”
She motioned out the window, “This road leads to Rome. If you follow it, you could meet him.”
“Ah, but I would not leave you here, by yourself.”
The look on her face was a study in self-control.
He paused, realizing that he’d best remove his foot from his mouth, “Uh… Again, I find myself in an awkward position.”
She nodded, “Yes?”
Fitzcairn shrugged, “I meant only that you might be safer…”
He was saved by a thud from her father’s bedroom. She stood very still for a moment. Without another word, she opened the door. Her father was still. The water jug, broken, on the floor beside his bed explained the sound they’d heard.
“He’s gone.” She was silent, her hands twisted in the linen skirt.
“I’m so sorry, Magdalena. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
She took in a deep breath and turned to him, “As a matter of fact, yes. Are you still journeying toward Rome?”
“It was my plan, but I could postpone my travels…”
“Could you deal with a traveling companion?
“You would leave your home?”
“Rather than be forced to marry to save it, yes.” She shrugged, eyes filling with tears, “My father is dead. That cannot be changed. No one knew how ill he was. No one knew I was doing the work of a sword smith. If I try now, I’ll be laughed at and married off to some idiot before the harvest.”
“Milady, I’d be happy to accompany you, but… if your town is like most of them, won’t tongues wag if you leave with a handsome stranger?”
In spite of her sorrow, Magdalena laughed. “Perhaps, perhaps. but I won’t be here to listen to them. My father was the only one I cared about, Hugh.” She looked around the room. “He had the soul of a Viking.”
The fire had gone out in the old stone fireplace. Her comment gave Fitzcairn an idea. “What would you say to a Viking funeral of a sort?”
She looked bewildered for a moment, and then smiled, “We can let the house be his pyre!”
He nodded, “How long will it take for us to pack what you need?”
She looked around the room, “I think everything will fit in the small cart. If we break down the gate it will look like Nicodemus ran away. I can turn the cow loose. Someone will be glad to take her in.”
“I’ll take the cart on up the road and come back to help set the fire.”
“There’s an abandoned farm there. We could stay there until it’s light enough to travel.”
Fitz spent the next few hours fetching and carrying as Magdalena made choices as to what they would take along and what would be left to burn. He took the loaded cart up to the farm and returned to help her with the cow and getting the small pack ready to go.
Finally she had him help her take her father to lie next to his anvil. His leather apron was tied on and she placed one of the older hammers in his hand.
“Father, you were the best teacher I could have had. You should have lived longer.” She brought a candle from the bedroom and lit some of the straw. Coals from the forge were brought in and started the rear wall of the house smoldering. They watched and waited until the fire was spreading on it’s own. Then they mounted Nicodemus and rode off up the road to the barn.
Days later they parted company with Fitz heading to Rome. Lena cut her hair and dressed in some of her father’s clothes. “Father’s friends in Toledo will help me. They often asked him to come and stay with them.”
“Perhaps we’ll meet again, Lena. I know one thing, I will be more careful not to jump to conclusions about lovely ladies from here on in.”
-30-