A Noble Cause

III - A Fancy Carriage

Three: A Fancy Carriage

The sun rose and so did the city of Malmesbury. Once a prosperous market town in central England, the city now barely had a market of its own. Still, the population gathered around a 13th-century gothic monument in the central (and only) square, where local producers sold their products, which one might as well call the marketplace; there, one can find fruit, vegetables, dairy, meat and products alike. Around the marketplace, one found just about anything one might need in the shops: fabrics, metal works, ceramics, leather and more. These shops were kept by citizens for citizens. After all, who would want to visit Malmesbury?

That question would have remained unanswered had a carriage with four people not been coming from London to that forsaken town.

The last person who had come to Malmesbury was Samuel, Count of Argyll, and he had been the number one topic of discussion in the town fair ever since he came, which is mostly due to the utter lack of any other topic. Mrs. March's remarkably sweet beetroots, which caused a bit of a stir with rumours that she had sweetened them with sugar, and Mr. Loyd's prized sow giving birth to thirteen piglets were topics worth a mention now and then, but nothing compares to a brand new person — and they had been lacking these since Samuel. That day, at the fair, was no different.

"Morning, Thomas!" Sean said.

Sean was an Irishman who moved from Derry to Oxford, occasionally visiting Malmesbury to sell his products at the fair. Though to call it "his" would be a big stretch, for nothing he sold was produced by him, unlike the other merchants at the fair".

"What brings you here today? I've got beer, honey, and, oh, I am sure you'll like this one," he said, grabbing a bottle with a liquid that looked and moved very much like water. "Everybody at the University drinks this now; it's Brazilian and very strong. The professors need it to bear the students and the students to bear their professors."

"Sounds like a mutual feeling to me," Thomas said. "More than I can say about me and the wife."

"Is she still cuckolding you?" Sean asked, using medievalism for dramatic purposes, which is something he mastered, but also because a better word has yet to be invented.

"Yes. I caught her with the dentist yesterday."

"The dentist! For goodness' sake, man, what did you do?"

"Nothing! I love her; I could not do anything."

"And what about the dentist?"

"Have you seen him? His arms? One punch of his and you'd catch me in Derry, Sean. Nah, I can't do anything to him, either."

"Then what can you do? And did you do it?"

He nodded.

"I did. Once I went to his office because I had a toothache and I met his wife, Sarah. Do you know her?"

"May have seen her once. Blonde, isn't she?"

"Redhead."

"Ah, quite."

"Anyway. She is very sweet and, and, easy on the eyes, too! That day, she... I mean, she and I, we got along well; talked for a bit and we bonded. So yesterday, after I caught her husband, I decided to let her know about it."

"Why on Earth would you do that?"

"Because I wanted to hurt him! Plus, I wanted to show Sarah I had not taken our acquaintance for granted."

"And how did that go?"

"She... She told me she already knew. Not about my wife and him, but that it wasn't his first time doing something like that."