Spero of Iter

13. Gang of Thieves

            Jaqueline's vision fluttered, the light of midday burning her eyes which were filled with sleep. She winced at the sight, turning her face further towards the ground. No pillow rested under her head, nor did the muddied forest floor. No, rather a thick bed of dampened grass lay beneath her. She moved her hands to aid her to her feet, but they were bound behind her with a bristly rope. Ouch.

She fast-tracked her ritual of waking up, struggling to do a sideways sit-up. She brought her knees parallel to her stomach, using them as leverage. Once the world was right side up again, she examined all that surrounded her. A campsite, though pitiful in resources was made up for by numbers. Small, brown, triangular tents were strewn across a large valley, densely surrounded by the same large trees from the forest she had just been in.

Countless ragged men were either shuffling about or twiddling their thumbs next to an unnecessary fire. None seemed to peer up from their goings on, all continuing their trivial activities. Men laughed hoarse laughs, baring their beer-stained teeth above their bristly beards. Other men wallowed on the ground, seemingly drunk out of their minds. Others did nothing to help remedy their drunken aguish, but rather laughed harder, nudging them with their brown boots, spilling some of the contents of their flasks. Not all were consumed by ale, however. Some men were hauling big crates and barrels from one tent to another. A few men were cooking by the fires, being how the sun was headed towards the west.

Jaqueline shuddered at the sight after recognizing her situation, as well as the fact that this wasn't some movie where a knight in shining armor would come to rescue the damsel in distress. The only thing she could do now, was keep a low profile. "Look! The little lady's awake," said a horrendous voice, his pronunciation completely slurred in his high pitch Cockney accent. He sounded like a parody of himself.

Well there goes my low profile, she thought to herself, fluttering her eyes in annoyance.

Several of the unkempt gentlemen encircled her, as if observing a wild animal for the first time. "She don't look like no lady to me," said one guy who was more boy than man. His shaggy brown hair drooped over his beady eyes like a cartoon character. Not to mention his pants were about two sizes too big, cinched at his prepubescent waist with rope. "She's got pants on." He pointed a long finger at her legs.

"Idiot," said the overly-Cockney voice. He had a very long, skinny face, leaving the illusion that his blue eyes were bugging out of his head. "She must be one of 'em girly knights like they says gonna start appearing soon enough. So she ain't a 'sir,' but a lady."

"Maybe she was a lady, and her castle got burned down, so she had to flee so she wouldn't get taken by pirates," said a short, stubby man with a long, black beard.

"Idiot," said the long-faced man, flicking the short stubby one's forehead. "We're pirates." He pointed his nearly black hand from dirt back and forth between the two of them.

"But we don't got no ship," said the young one.

The man with the overdone Cockney accent seethed, his pale face turning beat red as he turned towards the kid. "And why is that? Eh? We don't got money to get a ship," he nearly yelled.

"Then, why don't we ransom her off to her family?" The short stubby man interjected thoughtfully, caressing his beard with his thumb and forefinger.

"Hey, that ain't a half bad thought you got there," said the long-faced man. He then took a few steps forward, getting right into Jaqueline's face, examining it.

"Ca-can I help you?" Her voice faltered unwittingly. She was so caught up in listening to them ramble, she had almost assumed they would just forget about her.