A Simple Misunderstanding . . . [Bloodkiss and ChaosLord29]

Caoimhe smiled when Allister spoke to the wolf, and Midnight seemed satisfied. Hurrying off into the woods, he glanced back only once, his eyes flashing between Caoimhe and Allister. She knew that if Allister failed to protect her, Midnight would fight him until his last breath. The thought made her shudder, and she pushed it off as she took Allister's hand and got back into the saddle. "Thank you...but, won't it look strange that I'm riding your horse?" A thought struck her, and she beamed. "He's big enough to carry us both, is he not? And he has been well rested, so it would not be too much of a strain." When the reality of her suggestion hit her, she blushed. That would mean that she'd be riding either in front of, or behind Allister. Either way, they'd be very close...But she couldn't let him walk into the village while she rode in comfort. It would not only emasculate him, but it might appear to the villagers that he was under some sort of spell or enchantment, forcing him to cater to her whims.

That was something he had not considered, given his thought of Sleipnir as first and foremost a warhorse bred and raised to carry a single rider into and out of battle, and that his saddle was not quite so properly braced as to hold two passengers. Phrasing it however in terms of the destrier's strength and endurance however made him all the more confident that he would be able to handle them both. So confident in fact that her momentary flush and hesitation after the suggestion escaped him and he was quick to get one foot up into the saddle and keep her hand in his so that he could quickly swing himself up and her into the saddle with him as soon as she accepted. "You are right of course, and this is a fitting compromise I think, and I can only assume you will be most comfortable riding behind me, with the pommel positioned as it is." he smiled from behind his visor, as he lifted his leg over and leaned down agilely to help her up behind him, having always prided himself on being an expert rider.

Caoimhe took his hand, surprised by how quickly and agilely he moved in his armor. Settling into the saddle behind him, she tried to get comfortable without getting too close. Having no such luck, she gave in with a sigh and scooted up behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso for safety. "I'm ready when you are, My lord." She grinned, mocking him playfully. He'd called her 'milady', knowing full well that she was no lady of high rank. She'd even insisted that he not call her that. But she didn't mind so much as she had when they'd first spoken.

Despite their closeness, Allister felt more at ease with her in the saddle next to him. His mind could much more easily justify what might otherwise be considered the intimacy of her wrapping her arms around him for security when riding, and it was not the first time he had ridden Sleipnir with a woman behind him, though it had been more for sport and show and quick feats of agility to impress his peers. Those were the thoughts to bring a blush to his cheek now, that he might somehow impress such a woman as Caoimhe with simple tricks of horsemanship, and set him to give Sleipnir a good pace, trotting down the road and into the first signs of cultivation as the neared the first farms at the outskirts of the village.

He was content to ride in silence for a time as the cleared fields now bathed them in the orange glow of the setting sun, and he was thankful for the shade provided by his visor as they rode down the widening road and past the indentations of cart tracks and other beasts of burden. At length though, the drew up on what he had originally thought to be a mound of some stones in the shadow of a road marker, and now as they neared it, revealed itself to be some persons, hunched in the shade of it. Allister was not perturbed, believing at first it to be some beggars, or if brigands, that they would not trouble a knight passing through to town, but as they drew near, their seemed to be some agitation amongst the smallest of them, and he set his spurs lightly to Sleipnir's side, thinking their might be some child their being roughed or held up.

What the scene resolved itself to be as they neared Allister could not have prepared himself for. Their was indeed a child, and he was quite determinedly trying to move from beside the rode one of the two shapes resting near the road marker. The shapes, Allister could only think were the child's parents, unmoving, stiff and quite clearly dead in his eyes and he rode on the next few paces slowly, unable to tear his eyes away from the grisly sight. So fixed did the child seem in attempting to rouse his parent, he did not notice their approach till they were only some few yards from him, at which point he froze, staring wide eyed, his gaunt cheeks drawn tight in fright as Allister pulled up his horse to a halt, unsure of how to continue.

The healer in Caoimhe sprang to life, and she did not wait for Allister to stop before leaping from the horse's back. With grace, speed, and a look of terror etched on her sculpted face, she hurried to the child's side. Her knee ached terribly from the leap, but she didn't pause to scold herself for such stupidity. She knew that they were probably beyond help, and that all her medicine would be futile, but her heart would not let her ignore the poor child.

The child darted behind the road marker without a word as Caoimhe descended, moving to the slumped heaps of the parents. It took only a moments examination to reveal that the parents had been dead since the previous night, and their bodies withered in the day's sun. Their flesh was unnaturally pale, their veins constricted and blue and visible to the naked eye, and blackish sores were raised on bruises, dappling their skin, clear indicators of disease, a plague that could only have been the cause of their death. Allister identified these signs with a gasp as he descended halfway off of Sleipnir, riding with one foot in the saddle and rounding the marker where the boy had fled.

He didn't mean to alarm the boy, he simply wanted to get them away from the plague corpses as fast as they could, before they were exposed any more than they already had been. His sense of duty could not allow him to abandon the child, even though he was surely exposed, as had been his parents, but it was Caoimhe bending over as she was near the bodies that he was truly concerned about.

Caoimhe gagged as the stench of the bodies hit her full force. Upon noticing the horrid state the bodies were in, she stumbled backward in shock, her eyes darting around for the child. "Allister!" She backed away from the fetid corpses, spotting the boy and moving slowly toward him. "I'm so sorry that you've lost your parents, but you must come away from here. You could become very ill." She extended her hand toward him, her eyes pleading for him to aquiesce. She could not leave a poor child alone with these corpses. Looking toward Allister, she tried to soften the fear she knew was evident on her pale face. "We have to be gone from here." She knew that he was already aware, as she noted the look on his face.

Caoimhe's soft words and empathy drew the boys attention, even though the words she spoke washed right over him without being grasped. It was enough for Allister though, he did not care to wait for the boy to come to his senses, he had seen grown men shocked to the point of catatonics by less than he could imagine this boy was going through and as Caoimhe approached slowly, he quickly darted behind the boy, lifting him up beneath his arms and hoisting him into Sleipnir's saddle before he fully grasped what was going on. "I think we should make more haste to the village, for our sake and the boys." He said, as cooly as he could manage, the visor hiding his wide eyes, and the tension in his cheeks. He could not imagine what they might be too late for, whether this plague was simply the work of nature or more malign influences, but he wanted to be away from the gruesome scene.

Caoimhe nodded and with great relief, rushed toward Allister and Sleipnir. She struggled onto the horse behind the knight, not worried about the weight on the horse. He was huge, and she and the boy probably weighed less than a grown man in full armor put together. She wrapped her arms around Allister's middle, motioning for him to be off as soon as she was settled.

Feeling Caoimhe settle into the saddle behind him, Allister was about to spur Sleipnir away, when a flicker of shadows off in the field to their right drew his attention. Turned round in the saddle, keeping one gauntleted hand around the boys shoulder and just caught in the fading light the sight of several figures fleeing quickly into the brush out of the field towards the village, cutting along the dirt paths that lead through the other fields and farms. He frowned, narrowing his eyes, telling himself it was not so odd a thing that the local peasantry might be fleeing their homes to the safety of the town in the face of a plague. But in the back of his mind he could not shake the feeling that they had been watching Caoimhe and he and the child, and that they would suddenly flee after spying on them did not bode well for how they might be greeted in the village.

'All the more cause for haste.' The voice in the back of his head piped up and he set his spurs to Sleipnir, driving the powerful steed down the high road, in hopes not just of reaching the village with their new charge, but in beating their observers back, whatever their intentions might have been. He did not mention the sight of them to Caoimhe, hoping she would not notice and that their return to the village might be in as positive a light as the situation would warrant.

Caoimhe held on tight as he spurred the horse, her sore, bandaged hands aching. She did not mention the sight of the shadowed creatures she'd seen. It would only alarm Allister more if he knew they were being watched. The parents of the boy had not died from a plague. At least not one she'd ever seen before. They had died of a much more malignant force, that she was almost sure of.

The spirited ride the rest of the way into the village took the rest of the fading light, and as Allister reigned up Sleipnir in front of the main square road of the village, it was to a deathly quiet twilight of closed doors, and windows, boarded up buildings and a stillness that was almost preternatural. Allister's soldier sense was tingling as he Sleipnir trotted a few steps forward and he loosened his hold on the boy in front of him when he realized he had been holding him in a near vice grip to keep him steady on their ride. Immediately the boy seized the opportunity and leapt down from the saddle, breaking the stillness as he scrambled away towards the alley of one of the buildings. Sleipnir neighed and stomped a bit, and Allister was too distracted with keeping the steed steady to go after the boy.

Caoimhe didn't react quite as quickly as she'd have liked to, but she went after the boy. The poor child was terrified, and she had no idea if he had anyone else in this world. She couldn't let him run blindly into the night alone. She felt responsible, and she had a feeling that Allister did too. Propriety wouldn't allow him to ignore this boy in need.

Following the boy as she did down the alley however, Caoimhe was suddenly confronted with the sight of the terrified boy staring up at a band of peasants, who's eyes were fixed on Caoimhe as she rounded the corner. They were pale and gaunt, with stern, set jaws and wide eyes that spoke of anything but courage. Their hands gripped staves, tools and other makeshift weapons so tightly that their knuckles were white, and it was a long minute before the boy took a step backwards toward Caoimhe, his hand grasping at the hem of her dress even as the peasants eyes darted from her to the boy. The furthest forward amongst them leaned forward, barely setting one foot forward, though it was clear his intentions were not friendly.

Caoimhe shoved the boy behind her, brimming with matronly instinct. "Allister!" She didn't yell loudly, for fear of startling the villagers into action, but her voice carried. She sincerely hoped that he heard her, and started backing slowly, pushing the boy along, in an attempt to distance them from the angry mob. Daring a glance down at the boy, she attempted to smile reassuringly. "I promise, you'll be alright. Just stay behind me." Her voice was now barely a whisper, soft and calm.

Allister indeed heard her words, and had no sooner settled Sleipnir than he sprinted to where he had seen them disappear, brandishing his hammer and shield, and instantly placing himself between the pair and harm's way. The villagers with their weapons seemed quite taken aback as Allister presented himself, brazenly standing tall and proud in his armor, but Allister did not attack them, nor even settle into a fighting stance. Instead lowered his hammer, gripping it by the neck as he indicated towards them with his shield, "Good people, there is no cause for violence here. What has inspired you to take up arms in this way?" He asked, in a friendly but authoritative tone. The half dozen or so villagers did not answer, instead looking rightly confused and still clutching their tools and weapons tightly. "Why do we not put down our arms, and find the magistrate, surely he can explain the cause for all this."

"The Magistrate is dead," Rang out a baritone call from behind Allister, Caoimhe and the boy. "And the cause for his death is only too clear." Allister rounded, seeing a man dressed in burlap robes, balding and haggard but still powerfully built in spite of his age holding a large crook and leather bound book in his other hand. He cold only be a missionary or flagellant dressed as he was.

Caoimhe swallowed the lump of nervousness that had formed in her throat, taking the boy's hand and holding it tightly for her own moral and emotional support. She had a feeling that the direction this was headed in was not one favorable to her. Heart pounding loudly in her head, trying to thump its way out of her chest, she stood tall and raised her chin proudly. "I'm afraid it's not so clear to us. What caused his death, my lord?" She didn't need to ask. She knew what he was going to say, and she knew that it would only further taint her reputation.

The man in the burlap robes stepped forward, thrusting his chin out as he snorted haughtily at Caoimhe's words. He thumped his crooked stave upon the ground and pointed accusingly at her, the gesture seeming to pierce right past Allister's armored form and focus the every attention upon her. "You mock us with your foul words, almost as much as your presence befouls the ground upon which you walk heathen!" He called out, turning from her to the faces of the mob that Allister now directed his attention to. "It is you're unholy plague which has robbed us of so many friends and family! This demon consorting witch has cursed this village, and now we suffer for that curse!"

Allister stood firm, as the villagers began to murmur, looking around at each other and then to Caoimhe, shuffling their feet as he laid his accusations. Allister was not surprised at the villagers suspicion, he recognized some of them as those who had come to him first when he had been passing through the village. But this man was unknown to him, and from his guise and garb he guessed him to be a travelling missionary of some kind, and for a stranger to the village to so suddenly accused Caoimhe struck him as odd at the very least. "I did not realize she had already been convicted, when I myself have seen that she is not to blame for the plights of this village." Allister replied, gesturing from Caoimhe to the villagers with his hammer, shrugging his shoulders and speaking casually, but authoritatively, "Or that strangers might accuse others of such heinous crimes without even speaking their names."

She could not surpress a growl of rage, and angry tears threatened to burst from her eyes. "I am not responsible. These wounds were received from defending this village! I give my sweat and blood to help these people, not to harm them!" Taking a deep breath, she steeled her nerves and gripped Allister's forearm gently, reassured by the strength of his armor. She would wrap her heart in the same strength, and perhaps she would be able to withstand this trial.

Allister's and Caiomhe's words seemed not to phase the man who continued to glare and point accusingly, "Feh!" He intoned, as he swept his arm towards them dismissively and turned to gesture menacingly at the crowd of villagers which was now gathering behind him. "This witch would poison our minds with her lies and feigned weakness!" He cried out before turning back on them and pointing with his stave, "As she has the fallen knight who now stands by her side."

That last statement made Allister's hackles rise and he interrupted what he was sure to be another rant by the venom spitting monk. "Enough!" He cried out as he leaped forward and slammed his hammer's head into the ground before him, causing a loud crack to resound through the alley as a sudden plume of earth and shattered stone flew up before them. The villagers immediately took a step back. "You have no right to make such wild claims!" Called out, bringing his hammer up and gesturing just as forcefully back at him, "Who is a simple monk to speak so brazenly to a Knight of the Silver Hand and his companion?!" The word companion left his mouth unbidden, it felt natural to refer to Caoimhe as such his companion, the implications not truly registering, concerned as he was with defending their honor.

Caoimhe stepped toward Allister, but stopped when she realized how futile it would be to try and calm him. He would defend their names without hesitation. She squeezed the boy's hand softly in an attempt to reassure herself that this would be over soon. "Believe what you will, old man. But I have spent my whole life healing these villagers and birthing their babes. And in spite of their willingness to betray me, I would never do the same."

At Allister's and Caoimhe's harsh words, the monk seemed quite taken aback though his features remained hard and his fervor seemed to remain completely religious in it's nature. "I am Confessor Marcien, and the Lord and Light have led me to this village in their time of need that I might shepherd them back into favor and grace." He said, drawing himself up to his considerable size as the villagers around him began to mutter and whisper, uncertainty written all over their faces, though his words immediately began to shore up their convictions. "It is clear that the plague is most unnatural, and that the toll it has taken upon the people is a clear sign of their disfavor with the Light." He gestured around him to the boarded up homes, "The Lord has given signs as to the source of it, and it is in taking favors from this Witch, that they have incurred this curse upon them."

Allister narrowed his eye through his helm, unsure of how next to approach this difficulty. This confessor would indeed carry great weight, with so many as a representative of the churches patriarchy. This authority certainly did not supercede his own as a knight, but then he was not the lord over this village. What he needed was some means to prove that Caoimhe was innocent, or else obtain the time in order to do so.

Caoimhe sighed in exhasperation, realizing how pointless it was to argue with a man of the church. She prayed to all the Gods that Allister would buy her some time. Kneeling beside the boy, she tried to appear calm. "Do you have any other family?" She would find somehwere for this boy to go, and then she would run. Perhaps she could escape with her life. If she could find nowhere for the boy, she would take him with her. It might make things easier. She could find a village far enough away and tell them that her husband had died, and she and her son had nowhere else to go.