In the Lion's Den

Renewal of a Contract

"You fool. If you get yourself killed, my mother will have your head."

To my surprise, Simon answered with a half-grin.

"That is not funny, Simon Brandon."

"No it isn't. Just that - by now, I cannot think of any scenario in which your mother will not have my head."

I looked at him, now having to smirk at his gallow's humour.

I remembered the many, many times he had said something like "Your mother will have my head if I let you do this", when I was about to do something dangerous or foolish.

More often than not it had been to no avail, and I had gone and done it anyways - and he had charged along, protecting me from any danger that I had gotten myself into.

I smiled remembering those times.

Times when our friendship was certain and my mother's fury was the only threat to it - and a weak one at that, as my mother usually did not even get angry.

But now, Simon was looking at me gingerly, adding: "And she would have every right to."

He must have seen the question and uncertainty in my eyes, as he continued: "I am sorry, Bess. I was about to cause the greatest grievance to you and your parents. I almost got you gravely injured. I got you in trouble with the law, and I took advantage of your trust in me. I swore to your mother that I would protect you with my life, and I just did the opposite. I should offer my head to her on a silver platter for all that I put you through."

"That would defy the purpose though", I remarked dryly, trying to mask how moved I was.

Simon chuckled, actually chuckled, but then groaned in pain as the waggon hit another bump in the road.

It was so good to hear his apology.

I did not agree with all of the digressions he had listed, having been rather actively involved in some of them.

I especially refused feeling sorry about the night we had spent together - even though I surprised myself by significantly bending my usually very clear sense of propriety when it was about Simon.

"Are you alright?"

I wanted to reach out to him, but my hands were bound and so were his.

So when the wagon was going steady again, I tried my luck and changed places, coming to sit next to him.

Then I carefully laid my head on his shoulder.

"Live, Simon, please. If you cannot do it for yourself, do it for my sake. And for Marianne's, if it comes to that."

He rested his head on mine, and I felt the tears running down his cheek.

"I will", he promised, whispering into my hair.

"And Simon?"

"Mhm?"

"You don't get to release me from my promise. If we get through all of this alive and if by any miracle you don't marry Marianne, I will be by your side, no matter what."

It was a sad smile he gave me in return.

There were far too many conditions in that sentence for any more than that.

The waggon came to a stop and Simon stilled.

"Listen", he whispered.

There were shouts of recognition, then footsteps, then low voices.

"This is your last chance, lad. If you let them slip through my fingers again, the world will know what your father did, and your whole family will fall into disgrace."