Chapter 3 – The Succeeding Day of That Long Summer

Disclaimer: Still not Shakespeare. Ah well.

Look, chapter 3! I am aware that it is shorter than chapters 1 and 2, but at least it's here. Many, many, many thanks to Meg, who posted the only reviews by someone other than my schoolfriends, and convinced me to write another chapter. I have now completely run out of ideas, so please post prompts, because Zebra's are a bit... well... Modern - Cheesy wotsits to you too, Zeb.

"Expect thee not to win every skirmish of me so, Bea; forget not that I won many of our battles on progress, and so backward and forth went the victories all that summer while the court remained at Messina that one moon or a little longer." Parried Benedick.

"Hmph. Not done with thy much-reused Jade's Tricks I see." The tongue on that woman! Did he not love her so well as he did, Benedick would despise her so much as ever. No other quarreled with him so long.

The day after the newly remembered first skirmish of their merry war, Ben, Bea and all the other children had ridden (Hero's tiny bay gelding still led by a rein tied to Bea's feisty little chestnut pony, Beatrice's stallion having authority over the smaller mountain cob, and taking second place as king stallion only to Prince Pedro's magnifical miniature white Arab; since, Hero being so little as she were, she could not yet ride unaided) up the hill which fronted the Messina estate, towards the Familia deMessina's favourite spot for picnickes, with baskets fulled with their luncheon strapped to their saddles, and the strict instructions issued them that the prince and the two counts were responsible for all the younger childern.

Benedick swiftly espied trouble arising with Bea's side-saddle. The girl had been fidgeting the whole way, clearly discomfited by both the silly, impractical way to ride, and the knowledge that it held back the lads, and now each time he looked, the girth-stringes looked a little more frayed, one more stringe having snapped every time he glanced back. Once or twice he caught a flash of metal in the corner of his een. He were unconcerned at first, but after three of the things went, he felt he had to amention as much.

"Bea, look thee to thy girth, 'tis breaking 'apieces." Bea looked down with an expression of exaggerate horror, and cried

"O spite! 'Tis so! Now must I ride bareback, or not at all!" She slid from the saddle, and as she did so her sash pressed against the outlined shape of what Ben realised a'suspicion to be a small meat knife. Meanwhile, Bea untied the remaining girth-stringes, and thrust the saddle to the ground. She attempted to mount her beast again, bareback, and promptly fell back to the ground. She continued to create a great deal of bother while she repeatedly mounted and slid off. Eventually the girl stood and made and exasperate sighing noise.

"Fie on this, 'tis impossible! I cannot ride bareback! Can any one of you?" They looked around at each other. The only boys who could ride without saddle were the Prince, and, because the Prince had shown him on the way to Messina, Ben.

"I can, Bea. So can the Prince." A crafty look, which worried Ben greatly, overcame Bea's face.

"Why then, wilt thou not lend me a saddle? I know to ride as a peasant-girl so well as a lady."

"Thou dost? I have an inkling 'twas not e'er your uncle's intention." The girl grinned.

"Your inkling be correct, for 'twas Meg that taught me, not any of uncle's hostlers." Ben raised an eyebrow, but dismounted and untied his own girth-stringes, and handed his own saddle to Bea. Fie on that girl, she had picked up his accursed nickname in an eyeblink, and now thought he of himself as Ben. As he handed over the saddle, he bent down to whisper in her ear

"And cut you the strings on this, I shall ne'er lend you anything o' mine again." This last reduced both of them to helpless giggles, and so each refused to explain to the others at what it was they laughed so.

Bea mounted again, astride her pony as well as any boy, and grinning most happily. They continued up the hill, once Hero had been retied to Bea's new saddle. When the children reached the summit, the terrain flattened out, and they leapt once more from their little steeds. Ben proceeded to cast his saddlebags to the ground and unwrap the parcels of food inside. All the others did likewise, but none with such great speed. Bea and the Prince laughed to see his eagerness to eat, while Lorenzo and Count John looked with scorn on the younger boy and on the quality of the victual contained in the packages. Hero gingerly took her own luncheon from Bea's saddlebag, and silently picked her way through one of the parcels – Stuffed vine leaves with pepper and chickpeas.

"Such haste! Broke thou not thy fast this morning, that thou hungerest still?" Laughed Beatrice, reaching for her own food.

"I broke my fast, but not my hunger. Now I presently desire my luncheon." Explained Ben, digging into his own stuffed leaf. All the children resumed eating, until, soon enough, Ben came to a decision that all was too quiet, and resolved to break the silence by lobbing an olive stone at his brother. It hit the older boy squarely in the ear, and Lorenzo leapt to his feet, enraged. Bea and the Prince both collapsed in a paroxysm of giggling, while even John, Lorey's friend of the heart and sworn brother (Lorey considering himself deficient in adequately stuffy true brothers) seemed, for once, to be struggling with amusement that did not victimise firstly, Ben, or secondly, women. Lorey himself, however, seemed (for his own inexplicable reasons) to be somewhat distressed by the state of affairs. He cast a fistful of pinenuts at Ben, and proceeded to holler at him.

"Hast thou no respect for my superior age, little brother? I must confess to thee that I think myself above such base, childish behavi – " Another olive stone became mysteriously incarnate in the vicinity of Lorenzo's other ear. He whirled about in the direction from whence it came, coming to face Bea, who were near sobbing with laughter.

"Lady Beatrice!" exclaimed Lorenzo, purple of countenance, his fury were such, "Thou dost sorely test e'en my refined state of humour!"

"S-state of humour, my lord?" choked Beatrice, "Pardon my maidenly confusion, did you say state of humour? Forgive of me mine ignorance, I beg, but what state of humour? And have not you demonstrated already that conversing with us is beneath you?" Lorenzo gave a commendable imitation of a man on the brink of explosion, struggled with himself a moment longer, then turned on his heel and, with all dignity, walked over to his pony, mounted, and kicked the poor beast into a gallop, cantering down the hill and back to the house.

Bea watched him thoughtfully as he took his leave.

"Thou wast right, Ben, thine elder brother is a stuffy bum-bailey. I pray thee, was thine observation of his face so satisfying as thou hopest? I, for my part, found it monstrous so."

Count Lorenzo diPadua inherited his father's estate at the age of fifteen year. He were a negligent master to the people of Padua, and deserted from his friend Don John of Arragon's side halfway through the war in which Don John attempted to take the throne from his popular younger brother - Don Pedro, rightful ruler of Arragon, Messina, Florence, Padua and Calabria - by force. He died childless the month after Benedick and Beatrice were married, leaving them lord and lady of Padua. It were ten year into their marriage when Beatrice and Benedick eventually managed to complete their task of restoring Padua from Lorenzo's neglect, but it were a happier, wealthier Padua was finally inherited, five and twenty year after that, by their firstborn, Count Pedro diPadua.