Post by econdha on Mar 15, 2005 18:51:20 GMT -5
Based on a song by the same name
The market was bright with dust and Brigette covered the fresh fruit with her shawl to keep it from spoiling in the sun. The basket distracted her, and she didn't notice the huge black horse gallop between the stalls. The rider pulled it to a stop to a round of cheers.
The rider dismounted, greeting his comrads. Dogs cowering complacently to the master of the house. She'd seen him once or twice before, she reflected, watching them. He'd caused quite a stir when he'd first arrived in Hallsburrow, an Arab devil from the Holy land.
He wore a loose white linin shirt and polished pistols. The foreigner caught her glance, returned her stare with equal vigor and eyes as dark as her own. His skin was darker than woodsmoke. His jaw was squared, hard but a warm smile softened it now.
She couldn't take her eyes off him, unaware she was staring, unaware within her own engrossment.
"A creature as lovely as yourself should not be shaming flowers thusly." Realization that he was addressing her did little to dispel the clouds from her mind. His words, sifting through the fog, puzzled her, though.
"How do you mean, master Bgreathiou?"
He put a finger to the red blossom in her hair. "But what a blessing to be so near so great a beauty. You outshine even the wonders of Lebanon. May I know your name?"
"Brigette, daughter of Aryn, the landlord."
"I would have the privalege of escorting you to your destination."
Brigette savored his voice, the way he spoke the words. So exotic. She found herself agreeing, being pulled onto the huge horse in front of him. They raced out of town at speeds no English pony could ever reach.
He assisted her off the horse at the door to the Inn. The residents had noticed their lady's unusual arrival and were crowded in the courtyard. Ignoring the servants, he led her before her father.
"Aryn, master of the house, I am Ishamael Bgreathiou and I would wed your daughter. I offer you this as a token of good faith." He produced from his pouch a silver bejeweled necklace.
"Return tomorrow at midday and we shall discuss it, master Bgreathiou." Aryn held his hand to Brigette. "Bess."
Ishamael squeezed her hand before releasing it. "Does this please you, my love?" He whispered.
"Yes my lord." She curtsied and went to her father. The Arab once again bestrode his steed and rode towards Hallsburrow.
"Is this your wish, my daughter?" Aryn asked. "Please do not answer just out of concern for me and your place in society." Though such a wealthy husband would be a fitting match for a landlord's daughter, his concern was for his only childs happiness.
"Yes father, it is my wish."
___
On a hill on a blanket the two lovers sat, a few months after their engagement. "I want to show you this." Brigette held a package wrapped in brown paper to him. Within was a red velvet coat, repleat with lace. "Lace is the newest style from Paris. I know you ripped the sleeve of yours."
Ishamael immediately removed his coat and put on his betrothed's gift. "It is wonderfull. I brought you something as well." He pulled a jade pendant on a chain from the breast pocket of his shirt.
"It's lovely! It is exactly like the one Madam Bonnaville had."
"I know, I recalled you admiring it. So I aqquired it."
"But how? She lost it to a Highwayman on a black horse a fortnight ago..." Brigette looked up as Ishamael diverted his eyes. "You're the one the redcoats are looking for. Those soldiers are all after you."
Ishamael locked eyes with her now. "I love you, Bess, I would never hurt you."
"And what about yourself? Those soldiers could find you at any time. They could kill you."
"What, you mean you don't care that I..."
"I love you, whatever your path is."
"If you're concerned, I won't do it anymore."
___
"What an exquisite jewel." Madam Bonnaville told Brigette at a party a few months later. "I had one similar to it, but we unfortunately parted company." She fixed Ishamael with a hard look.
He nodded graciously at her, making the lace on his coat bob. "I aqquired it on a recent journey to Paris. Nothin less than perfection for my bride."
"Mmm. Oh look, Sir Overhill, excuse me I must have a word with him." The fat old woman toddled away.
"Do you think she recognized it?" Brigette asked.
"If she did, it wouldn't matter. Jewelers are always selling duplicates of 'unique' jewels."
After pleasantries were exchanged, Sir Overhill mentioned Bonnavilles speaking to Ishamael and Brigette. "That jewel she wears looks strikingly similar to the one you lost."
"It is the same. How else could they have gotten a jade Bonnaville family crest?"
"You suspect he aqquired it from the vandal who stole it from you?"
"I suspect he is the vandal who stole it from me."
"Dangerous accusations, what proof do you have?"
"The Highwayman who has terrorized us for the past few years rides a black horse."
"So do many other young men these days, he's started a trend."
"Those are good English ponies, this was one of his Arabian beasts, I'm sure of it. Also, my footman tore the brigand's coat and master Bgreathiou now wears a new wrap."
"Bess commissioned that from my seamstress, it is purely a coincidence."
"The last fact is most incriminating. He plans to purchase the McFergun estate up above the Northern Moors. I believe you're familiar withthe place. I hear he has McFergun quite in his pocket."
It was well known that Sir Overhill had been trying for years to aqquire Matthew McFergun's hill
estate. "Doubtless to use as an outpost for his raids on the honest folk of Hillburrow." He stroked his moustache, considering.
"Doubtless." Bonnaville agreed.
The market was bright with dust and Brigette covered the fresh fruit with her shawl to keep it from spoiling in the sun. The basket distracted her, and she didn't notice the huge black horse gallop between the stalls. The rider pulled it to a stop to a round of cheers.
The rider dismounted, greeting his comrads. Dogs cowering complacently to the master of the house. She'd seen him once or twice before, she reflected, watching them. He'd caused quite a stir when he'd first arrived in Hallsburrow, an Arab devil from the Holy land.
He wore a loose white linin shirt and polished pistols. The foreigner caught her glance, returned her stare with equal vigor and eyes as dark as her own. His skin was darker than woodsmoke. His jaw was squared, hard but a warm smile softened it now.
She couldn't take her eyes off him, unaware she was staring, unaware within her own engrossment.
"A creature as lovely as yourself should not be shaming flowers thusly." Realization that he was addressing her did little to dispel the clouds from her mind. His words, sifting through the fog, puzzled her, though.
"How do you mean, master Bgreathiou?"
He put a finger to the red blossom in her hair. "But what a blessing to be so near so great a beauty. You outshine even the wonders of Lebanon. May I know your name?"
"Brigette, daughter of Aryn, the landlord."
"I would have the privalege of escorting you to your destination."
Brigette savored his voice, the way he spoke the words. So exotic. She found herself agreeing, being pulled onto the huge horse in front of him. They raced out of town at speeds no English pony could ever reach.
He assisted her off the horse at the door to the Inn. The residents had noticed their lady's unusual arrival and were crowded in the courtyard. Ignoring the servants, he led her before her father.
"Aryn, master of the house, I am Ishamael Bgreathiou and I would wed your daughter. I offer you this as a token of good faith." He produced from his pouch a silver bejeweled necklace.
"Return tomorrow at midday and we shall discuss it, master Bgreathiou." Aryn held his hand to Brigette. "Bess."
Ishamael squeezed her hand before releasing it. "Does this please you, my love?" He whispered.
"Yes my lord." She curtsied and went to her father. The Arab once again bestrode his steed and rode towards Hallsburrow.
"Is this your wish, my daughter?" Aryn asked. "Please do not answer just out of concern for me and your place in society." Though such a wealthy husband would be a fitting match for a landlord's daughter, his concern was for his only childs happiness.
"Yes father, it is my wish."
___
On a hill on a blanket the two lovers sat, a few months after their engagement. "I want to show you this." Brigette held a package wrapped in brown paper to him. Within was a red velvet coat, repleat with lace. "Lace is the newest style from Paris. I know you ripped the sleeve of yours."
Ishamael immediately removed his coat and put on his betrothed's gift. "It is wonderfull. I brought you something as well." He pulled a jade pendant on a chain from the breast pocket of his shirt.
"It's lovely! It is exactly like the one Madam Bonnaville had."
"I know, I recalled you admiring it. So I aqquired it."
"But how? She lost it to a Highwayman on a black horse a fortnight ago..." Brigette looked up as Ishamael diverted his eyes. "You're the one the redcoats are looking for. Those soldiers are all after you."
Ishamael locked eyes with her now. "I love you, Bess, I would never hurt you."
"And what about yourself? Those soldiers could find you at any time. They could kill you."
"What, you mean you don't care that I..."
"I love you, whatever your path is."
"If you're concerned, I won't do it anymore."
___
"What an exquisite jewel." Madam Bonnaville told Brigette at a party a few months later. "I had one similar to it, but we unfortunately parted company." She fixed Ishamael with a hard look.
He nodded graciously at her, making the lace on his coat bob. "I aqquired it on a recent journey to Paris. Nothin less than perfection for my bride."
"Mmm. Oh look, Sir Overhill, excuse me I must have a word with him." The fat old woman toddled away.
"Do you think she recognized it?" Brigette asked.
"If she did, it wouldn't matter. Jewelers are always selling duplicates of 'unique' jewels."
After pleasantries were exchanged, Sir Overhill mentioned Bonnavilles speaking to Ishamael and Brigette. "That jewel she wears looks strikingly similar to the one you lost."
"It is the same. How else could they have gotten a jade Bonnaville family crest?"
"You suspect he aqquired it from the vandal who stole it from you?"
"I suspect he is the vandal who stole it from me."
"Dangerous accusations, what proof do you have?"
"The Highwayman who has terrorized us for the past few years rides a black horse."
"So do many other young men these days, he's started a trend."
"Those are good English ponies, this was one of his Arabian beasts, I'm sure of it. Also, my footman tore the brigand's coat and master Bgreathiou now wears a new wrap."
"Bess commissioned that from my seamstress, it is purely a coincidence."
"The last fact is most incriminating. He plans to purchase the McFergun estate up above the Northern Moors. I believe you're familiar withthe place. I hear he has McFergun quite in his pocket."
It was well known that Sir Overhill had been trying for years to aqquire Matthew McFergun's hill
estate. "Doubtless to use as an outpost for his raids on the honest folk of Hillburrow." He stroked his moustache, considering.
"Doubtless." Bonnaville agreed.
