Padric held his bruised neck and sucked in air, waiting for the wretch to fall, only to have his newly found breath catch in his throat when the man kept his feet and slowly pulled the sword from his own body. No blood ran from the tear in his filthy shirt, no drops ran red from the blade as it issued from the wound unblemished. It took the sword out and into hand before raising its head. There was no face! Only a sack stuffed and stitched with the semblance of human features, dead pits of blackness for eyes beneath the floppy brim of a…

“Slouch Hat,” Padric croaked.

The husk hesitated at the sound of his name, but Padric did not. He launched off the wall, swatting the sword out of the scarecrow’s hand before barreling him over. The stuffed body was heavier than it looked, but Padric still outweighed Slouch Hat by several stone and once they were down Padric pinned him fast.

“Murderous maggot,” he rasped at the husk.

“Padric!” a sharp whisper came from behind him. He turned his head and found Jileen in the entrance to the stall, eyes wide, white knuckles clutching a shawl about her. Her gaze shifted to the form pinned beneath him and she rushed forward, dropping to her knees next to them.

“Stay back,” he hissed.

“Padric, let him up.”

“What? Jileen…it just tried to kill me. It did kill Brogan.”

“Liar.” The word came from below him in a voice thin and reedy. Padric shivered, reluctant to look down at the formless face.

Jileen placed a hand on his arm and was about to speak when they both caught the glow of a light coming towards them. Jileen shoved Padric away and threw her shawl over Slouch Hat then grabbed Padric by the tunic, dragging him down on top of her. Her mouth found his, lips parting, her body pressed upwards seamlessly into him. They rolled and she was now astride him, hay caught in her tousled hair, dressed bunched up around her thighs. She breathed in little laughing gasps and did not stop when one of the grooms poked his head into the stall, lantern in hand.

“Oi now! What’s this, then?”

“The lord’s come a’callin’,” Jileen giggled, her voice slurred. She poked Padric clumsily in the chest. “Yer t’be flogged.”

Padric watched the groom’s grin begin to overpower his scowl. “Beg an hour?”

The groom gave him a knowing nod and went his way. Jileen waited for the lantern light to completely fade before ceasing her mummery.

“Boy,” the reedy voice issued from under the shawl next to Padric’s ear. “Would you get off me?”