Negotiations! Some take place with chicken, some take place with knives.
‘So, Corporal, you got into the chicken business after you left the army?’ asked Marshall Gney, who was now happily seated with his leg up, eating Emsie’s Grandpa’s chicken in the chicken tent.
‘It is very good chicken though! It must be the Batavian recipe. The Cardinal seems to like it too!’
He gestured at Mascarpone, who was also seated and eating chicken in the chicken tent. The difference was that Mascarpone was tied to the chair.
‘Delicious, isn’t it?’ asked Gney.
Mascarpone nodded and continued to eat. Gney had decided that Emsie’s Grandpa should keep him captive to ensure that there was a suitable cleric available to officiate at Amarilla’s wedding when Beowulf ‘brought home’ the right Louis (whoever that turned out to be). To pass the time the Marshall had decided to sample the chicken and talk. He was really enjoying himself.
‘Very fine granddaughter you have, Corporal,’ he observed, ‘Brave, resolute, pretty and excellent at making chicken.’
Emsie had resumed her usual job, having found some chicken that hadn’t been stolen by the villainous Albert. This had left Grandpa free to find a special bottle of wine and start drinking and eating chicken with the Marshall.
‘She reminds me of my Niece, Amarilla; who is also all those things, with the possible exception of being good at making chicken. I don’t know if she can make chicken. I’m pretty sure though that if she did make chicken it would be good chicken; don’t you agree Mascarpone?’
The Cardinal nodded.
‘And, if Bull turns nasty and won’t do the wedding, you will help me out, won’t you?’
The Cardinal nodded. Gney turned back to Emsie,
‘Could I trouble you for some more chicken?’ he asked, ‘it may not cure my leg, but it certainly makes it feel better!’
In the clearing, Amarilla stood over the unconscious body of the assassin, clutching her branch. In truth she was a bit surprised that he had gone down. Earlier she had watched Louie-Louie strike the same sort of blow with no effect and she had not really expected to be triumphant.
Beowulf was quicker to recover. He stepped across the clearing, took the branch from her hands and gave Naiman another stout blow to the back of his head.
‘If that doesn’t kill him it will certainly leave him out cold for a while.’
He picked up his knife.
‘Thanks for the rescue,’ he said, ‘it was timely.’
He looked around.
‘And now to business,’ he said, ‘I hope you won’t be too disappointed with Louie-Louie as a life partner. I’m sure you can help him get over the religious thing.’
He moved towards the fallen Louis.
‘Stop!’ shouted Amarilla, ‘I just saved you.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Beowulf, ‘and?’
‘And I don’t want you to kill Lewis!’
Beowulf smiled,
‘Love at first sight? He is a good deal more handsome than the proper Louis’ I suppose; but don’t you think he’s a bit dim? He can’t even speak French. Be a realist, girl, he isn’t the one!’
Amarilla quickly stepped in front of him.
‘I saved your life,’ she argued.
‘You hit an assassin; I was going to take him out anyway.’
‘I don’t think you were!’
Amarilla stared challengingly at Beowulf, who had to slightly look up to return her stare. He laughed.
‘Even if you did save me, I have a reputation for dishonest dealing that I’m not keen to lose; especially over something as trivial as attraction. Move over!’
Amarilla gritted her teeth,
‘I’ll fight you,’ she said. This caused Beowulf to laugh harder, ‘you’ll fight me, will you? You are a girl armed with, let me see, nothing and I have a great big knife; who do you think is going to win that one?’
He extended a hand to push her out of the way. She grasped it.