"So if the sun rises in the East, and sets in the West, then I am...lost. Definitely lost." Tulio's horse let out a whinny of aggravation and he privately agreed. The old woman had sworn to him that he would make his fortune in Cordoba; apparently the blank signpost at the crossroads had other plans.
He was still weighing his options when a glint of gold down the righthand path caught his eye. "What do you think, old fellow?" He patted his mount's neck fondly. "Good a rationale as any, I say." A light kick to his side had the horse trotting down the path.
Tulio had proceeded only a few feet before he realized the gold belonged to no worldly treasure, but a crop of shining blond hair. What's more, it appeared to be attached to a roguishly handsome face, attached to a body holding up a sign, upon which the words, "I challenge you to a duel," had been painted.
Though beggars by the sides of thoroughfares were hardly a rarity in Spain, they were seldom this creative in their tactics...or, if he were being honest with himsef, this attractive in their features. The combination had him halting his mount.
"What sort of plea for help is that?" Tulio began demanding of the man. "You can't expect people to respond well to being challenged to face their doom by a perfect stranger!"
The stranger manipulated his eyebrows in a manner that Tulio found irrationally arousing. "Ah, but perhaps I seek only the sort of man who would accept such a duel." He lowered his sign and hooked his fingers through Tulio's reins with a grin. "As you have stopped, I can only assume that I have found him."
"On the contrary," Tulio said with a sniff, determined not to give this stranger the upper hand, "Why should I duel you? I have nothing to gain."
"You will have sated your curiosity," the man replied easily. "To some, that would be worth ten thousand pesos."
"And if you win, what will you have sated?" Tulio was unable to pinpoint precisely why he was still having this conversation, especially with the riches of Cordoba supposedly awaiting him.
"That, dear fellow," the stranger said, with another comely waggle of his eyebrows, "is rather up to you. If you'd rather postpone the duel for another time and head instead for the nearest tavern, I'm sure we could sort it out."
Tulio regarded him carefully for a moment. If he were a murderer, he was surely a well-spoken one. If a thief, unskilled enough to have little to his name. And if he truly meant him no harm...
Following the same wild impulse that had drawn him down the path in the first place, he extended a hand and hoisted the man onto his horse. "Whether we are to duel together or drink together, I would know your name."
The stranger paused a moment. "Each chapter of my life has begun with a new one. Why don't you pick the title for this one?"
The rational, sensible part of Tulio's mind recognized that picking up a purposefully nameless stranger with no sense of the way things were done in civilized society was a truly terrible idea. Awful. Horrendous. The other, sneakier part whispered that it might end up being more fun than he'd had in a long, long time.
And, after all, he supposed that if he really thought about it, asking someone you'd just met to name you was no stranger than challenging him to a duel. Not in any meaningful way.
"Miguel," he said finally. "As a youth in Barcelona, he was the best friend a boy could ask for."
"Very well!" The man wound his hands around Tulio's waist and rested his cheek companionably on his back. "From this day onward, I am Miguel. Your Miguel."
Tulio was struck with the strangest feeling that from that day onward, he would be.