The Shadow Thief

Chapter 5 - Rumors

Chapter 5

It was a bright, sunny morning in the Baraland Fief as Jeremiah Bingsley strode along, his hat on his head and a tune in his mouth. As he whistled, his faithful dog followed along behind him, tail wagging with the song. The sky was clear and bright, the weather was perfect, and the cheerful singing of the birds created a light, happy atmosphere. Green grass swayed in the cooling breeze, and colorful flowers danced to the carol of the birds, bending back and forth gracefully in the wide open fields along the roadside.

As the farmer entered the town, canine trotting along behind him, thick staff rising in falling in time with his steps, people looked up from their work and nodded a greeting to the cheerful farmer. Some waved, and Jeremiah blushed as a pretty maid gave a shy smile. He tipped his hat to her and continued on his way, feeling the happiness bubble up inside him. Even his dog seemed elated, tongue lolling and tail bouncing.

"Greetings, Bingsley!" Bart Revons, the Stablemaster, called. His large, rough hand was raised in greeting, high above the man's powerful, commanding face. Clean shaven, with a curved, handsome jaw and deep green eyes, the man had a kind, but firm look about him. A maroon leather jerkin was fastened over his pale brown shirt, and a dagger hung round his chestnut colored breeches. The stable was huge, clean, and smelled of fresh hay and horses. Burt Revons was an orderly man. Stalls were filled with fresh bedding, aisles were swept, and tack rooms were faultlessly organized. The high ceiling was supported by thick oak timbers, and huge glass windows imbedded in the wood of the roof provided natural lighting.

The farmer lifted his own limb in reply, waving as he approached. "Good mornin to ya!" Bingsley replied, blue eyes sparkling with excitement. He leaned against the expansive barn doorway, tipping his hat up slightly to see his friend better. Bart raised an eyebrow, setting down the bag of horse feed he had been carrying.

"Goodness Bingsley, what's got you so excited?" The man smirked, wiping some sweat off his forehead. "Haven't seem you this cheerful since your prize cow gave birth to triplets." Bingsley grinned like a schoolboy.

"Well sir, to be right honest with you, I'm not sure it's a good reason to be all worked up, but I can't help ma'self. Ya know I can't help but feel a twinge of regret cuzza ma feelings, seein as it seems rather spiteful. But I have my reasons, that's certain. Things that's been done to me and stuff 'as been stolen, and I figure it's pure justice, that's all." He finished with an insignificant shrug. Bart's face was vacant of expression as he listened, showing his disapproval of Bingley's celebration.

"They're going to hang the Shadow Thief, aren't they?" He made a guess, turning back to pick up the feed sack. With a barely audible grunt, the Stablemaster hefted the bag up on his shoulder and turned to walk down the stall aisle. His long legs quickly ate up ground as he headed for the supply room. Bingsley trotted to catch up with him, undersized legs hindering his gait. Fur bouncing with the sudden movement, the dog followed at his heels.

"Ah come on, Bart, the man stole from me! He's a thief and a nuisance, the fief will be better off without him." The farmer argued, slowing to a brisk walk. "Hurt me too! See this gash?" Bingsley lifted his worn hat and pointed to the bandage, still wrapped around his greasy hair. "There's no telling how many others the cursed burglar has injured, and the way he sneaks 'round, it's not healthy! I've sayed it once, and I'll say it again. The fief is better off without 'im." He finished decidedly. Bart turned to face him with a sigh.

"I suppose your right Bingsley. The man most certainly deserves punishment. Hanging, even. But that doesn't mean you should take joy in it. That's not right." The Stablemaster said, plopping the sac of grain down on a shelf with a thud. He turned back to face the farmer, understanding written on his face. "I get what you're feeling. You want revenge. But revenge isn't what you should be seeking." Bingsley frowned, pondering Burt's words. "Justice," The man put a firm hand on his friend's shoulder. "Justice is what you should be after." He gave an empathetic smile. The farmer opened his mouth to protest. As a man of many, many words, the talkative farmer was always prepared to bite back with a fairly logical defense. But this time, he could find no reason to oppose Burt's reasoning. With a heavy sigh, he hung his head.