She sat her horse like a man, and the attitudes of the
others bore testament to her unquestioned leadership.
“Well, what have we lads?” she cried out as she reined
in the mare.
“Not much gold,” one of the men answered, “but at
least we’ll feed.”
“On just these two,” she asked, “where’s the driver?”
“Up the road a piece,” sang out one of the others,
“Already dead, I’m afraid.”
“Pity.” she said. “What a waste.”
The realization of their fates had begun to sink in with
the squires. The younger of the two, no more than
nineteen years old, fell to his knees screaming, begging,
pleading to be spared. The thieves were amused by his
pathetic performance. As they laughed the young squire
could not stop himself from fouling his fine linen
britches. Their laughter tore through the night air,
lacking all semblance of humanity.
The other squire stood stoically watching. He would
not allow himself to be disgraced by showing his fear.
The beautiful woman stopped the mare right in front of
him and dismounted.
“Please Madam …” he began.
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