Twilight stole cautiously across the sky overhead as I stood at the end of the lane leading to the constable's house. That officer of the town resided in a stone building placed in the center of the roadway. He was the third and final brother of the three I had been hired to educate in the ways of treating a noble's lady, or really any of feminine extraction.
I hesitated as this one was going to be the toughest of the three. Thus far the first brother had been a piece of the richest, finest rum cake, easy to consume with the bites of my court jester's manner. The second had been a tad more difficult but after I had survived his abhorrent manner of devouring meat, he had succumbed to me without a significant amount of additional trouble.
The constable was easily the most intelligent and cunning of the threesome of siblings. He had procured the post of the village magistrate through trickery, blackmail and the occasional bludgeoning of his opponents' kneecaps. A neighborly fellow he was not.
His home, a squat stone construction served also as his place of work and the community's prison. The front of it was set up as a small court room, with a cramped jail cell set on one end. The rear of that building contained the man's living quarters, which due to his general piggish manner, was ill kept and was utilized as a brothel as much as a home.
Once the sun had ducked its face below the horizon, freeing the sky to be fully claimed by the encroaching darkness, I felt it safe to move. I crept down the street, taking care to remain as much as possible in the shadows provided generously by the over hanging thatch of the houses I passed. Luck proved to be more than just a state of mind, keeping me unnoticed by any villager or canine as I went.
I paused below a roof corner near the back of the constabulary and studied the rear entrance. It, as was the place I stood, was bathed in shadows, but I wanted to ensure there would be no slovenly tavern wench, or any other visitor inside. Such individuals could interrupt and destroy my plans for the night, so caution was of utmost importance. No sound or movement announced itself to my senses, so I felt it safe to proceed.
I stole as noiselessly as I was able to the rear door and paused once more, listening and watching. Still nothing aroused any alarm in me. Testing the door I found it unlatched. I thought little of that as the constable must often leave the back entry open so as not to be forced into providing each of his whorish associates with a key. That would be most inconvenient and risky, especially if he had a falling out with any of his nocturnal wenches.
The portal creaked quietly upon its leather hinges as I eased it open to peer within. The room beyond was dim, but I could make out the rough and cheerless furnishings possessed by the resident. No sign of that swine of a man existed. so I slipped in and closed the door behind me.
Silence caressed my ears with a touch that was both ominous and peaceful, impressing upon me the need to find my quarry as quickly as I was able. Fearing that some of the floor boards may creek underfoot I proceeded with the greatest measure of stealth through the back rooms of the building. They lay empty of life, save for a spider of more than ample size suckling upon the venom addled body of a house fly.
Hesitantly I inched towards the opening leading into the court room residing in the front of the building. A pang of nervousness crept along the length of my spine, suggesting that perhaps, something was not right. Some activity, sound or other sign of habitation should have existed. The constable was not one to exert himself in his duties, especially when he could be resting at home with a pot of ale during a cool night, so there should have been some sign of his presence.
Suppressing my anxiety I entered the main judicial area and peered around. That too was empty. Was the constable for some reason forced to leave his home to attend to some emergency? That seemed possible yet doubtful. No signs of any disturbance had come to me from any where in the village, and it being a small community of only a few dozen residents, any such trouble should be easily noticed.
Crossing to the cell I peered in, finding that barred chamber as well free of any occupant. Tentatively I pushed upon the prison door, its rusted iron bars cool beneath my finger tips. They gave slightly beneath my pressure and the door swung open sufficiently so that I was able to stick my head through the gap.
Something caught my attention within, and I desired a better look at that object, without actually setting foot within the cell. I became so fixed on that half hidden thing that I failed to hear the stealthy foot fall behind me. Then, a hand roughly shoved my shoulder, so that I toppled forward onto my face. A booted foot followed, which heaved me deeper into the jail, leaving the portal clear of the obstruction of my body. the door clanged behind me, and the earth of the floor pressed into my face, cold and hard packed, unyielding to the skull I possessed, which had proven that night to be far thicker than I previously believed. A soft chuckle came from beyond the collection of stout bars. The owner of that subdued mirth then strolled away, jingling a set of keys. his jaunty footsteps raising the pressure in my veins with each tread. I rolled to my side and caught a glimpse of the back of the constable, disappearing into his living space, the same rooms I had vacated moments earlier. That ample behind, seemed too great in width to fit through the door, and I fancied it was surmounted by a curly tail, matching the squished snout like nose adorning that one's face.
Knowing there was no point I tested the door. It was firmly locked and I was left in the cell, having been forced inside by the constable. I had little doubt his brothers had informed him of the strange doings for which I was responsible, and that he had concocted a scheme to capture me. He was just clever enough to have hatched such an idea, and I in my arrogance had allowed my caution to lapse.
I reclined upon the dirt floor of the cell, pondering my predicament, attempting to keep the aroma wafting from the unemptied waste bucket from interrupting my thoughts. That was most difficult and breathing through my mouth only partially quenched the simmering nausea that began forming in my belly. A bedbug, or at least something similar, crept up my boot and before I could squish it to snuff out its blood drinking ambition, it disappeared beneath the cuff of my leggings. I swatted the place I expected it to be, and as though fueled by the escaping life force of that insect, an idea crawled into my mind.
Residing in my pocket, were the two clover like pieces of tarnished metal I had lifted from the first two brothers. I studied them for a few minutes in the dim shadows of my cell and noted they might fit together as one piece. Fiddling with them for some moments I achieved success as they clicked together and formed the most bizarrely shaped key I had ever seen.
Curiousness took hold of me and I reached my hand through the bars to see if my new key would fit the lock. That took some doing as I had to push my hand between several pairs of bars until I was able to get the required angle with my arm to reach the lock. Failure seemed inevitable, and then just when I thought to give up I succeeded. The key fit neatly and with a further will of effort I was just able to turn it with the tips of my longest two fingers. I then pushed the door open, which magically stayed quiet upon its hinges.
It was my turn now to be stealthy and this time I exercised the full abilities of my creeping skills. The door through which the constable had vanished was soon reached. I carefully, ever so carefully, peered through. My heart leapt into my throat with a mixture of fear and excitement at the fortune I beheld.
The constable was sitting on a rough stool just beyond the left frame of the door, well with in reach. Changing my approach and throwing my caution to the mercy of the winds of chance, I dove forward and was able to latch my fingers upon the throat of my victim. There was a rough tussle lasting the measure of a few heart beats, but blessedly the stool tipped and the man fell to strike his head upon the wall. It was then little effort to press my fingers upon the point in his neck to ensure he was indeed unconscious.
More time than I should like to admit was required for my next act. That loutish constable was notably heavier than I, so I had to push, heave, pull and tug from numerous directions to maneuver his limp body across the floor of the building. Initially the door presented me a great challenge, forcing me to drag the man by his heels through the opening, which inevitably resulted in his arms catching on the frame. That conceived within me an understanding of what a wise woman experienced when dealing with a breech birth, save that the individual I handled was vastly more repugnant than an about to be new born infant.
Growling with the effort, I managed to complete my job and stood, looking over the constable's prone form as it now lay within the cell. I pulled the door to that barred chamber closed, caring little that its bottom corner clipped the crown of the man's skull on its way by, leaving a bloody scrape. The sight of that trickle of life's fluid oozing from this one's head amused me, and I smirked, knowing that I, nick named Loupe by my associates had punished the three piggish brothers as my lord had wanted.
The End
Your Thoughts:
This is the conclusion to, "The Grim Prankster." As always I look forward to your thoughts in the comments below or on my Facebook page: Author Jonathan Birdsall on Facebook, or on my Twitter page at: Writer Jonathan Birdsall (@writerjbird).
I humbly await your return next monday. Cheers my good readers!
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