So Cornichon/Pickles sings some songs! Changed some lyrics to make them era appropriate. Please review if you like! I don't like to ask but it helps me a lot.
The carriage tumbled over the incline, and jolted Toki awake. He had only been dozing anyway. With the roads as they were, rocky and filled with pits, the wheels tossed over the road and the carriage careened the right and to the left, lifting Toki and Cornichon from their seats.
Toki held Cornichon steady, afraid he might be sick at any moment. But the drummer was fast asleep and snoring steadily, his head on Toki's shoulder and a half empty bottle of wine in his hand. Toki smiled. He snatched the bottle and pushed Cornichon to the other side of the seat, just in case. The moon was high above them. It was the dead of night, and they were en route, the coachman going at breakneck speed.
He took a deep swig of wine. It was a bottle from the inn at the crossroads. The Golden Flea, it was called, and Cornichon had insisted they stay the night. It was much slower going in a carriage than by horseback, and they couldn't ride all night, much as Toki wanted to.
They dined on duck and turnips, and afterwards Toki had a tart and Cornichon another glass of the inn's specialty Red. One glass turned into another until Cornichon had finished the bottle, and started another. The guests departed one by one until it was just the two of them, and a curious barmaid who lingered at the counter, cleaning the glasses. Only a few lamps were lit. Toki took Cornichon under the armpits and tried to drag him to bed, but by then he had begun to sing. His voice was deep and gravelly.
"Make a mess dripping crimson and bone!"
Toki dropped him, but he went on singing. "Cornichon!" he hissed. "Shuts up!" The inn was sleepy and small, but everyone knew it was bad to draw attention on the road.
"Hey," slurred Cornichon, his eyes dreamy. "Where's the Queen? This is her favorite song!"
The barmaid was giggling. Toki struggled to pull him up again, but he was a dead weight. Cornichon shut his eyes and went on singing.
"Na na na na, na na na na!" His voice was now a loud wail, and he sounded almost like Thunderhorse when it hit the low, crackling notes. Then his voice went high and nasally, and he kicked the floor as he sang.
"My name is Cornichon, I like the Duc d'Orleans
Hanging out with Mozart, riding on a donkey cart
Shooting jokes with Voltaire, eatin' twenty eclairs
Taking shots off trollops, you know I drink it all up."
"I ams sure you do," said Toki, rolling his eyes. He took Cornichon by the arm and dragged him backwards across the floor. He backed into six feet of solid flesh.
The innkeep was standing over him, holding a now extinguished candle. He was frowning and towered over Toki in his nightgown and cap. The barmaid yelped and darted out of sight.
Toki backed up.n"I'm sorrys! I trys to quiet him."
The innkeep grumbled and reached for Toki's neck. Toki's eyes went wide.
And the innkeep fell to the ground.
Behind him stood three men, obscured by the darkness.
"I thanks you, sirs," said Toki, bowing, but they said nothing. They swept around him in a circle. One of them carried a club, one a knife, and the other a pistol. Toki reached for his sword, and wished he had practiced more on that as well.
"You woke up the entire inn," said one of them, a man with thickly muscled arms. He swung his club in a circle.
Toki tried to keep him in his line of sight, while also staring at the other two, but it wasn't possible. "He just likes to sings, that ams all," he answered.
The man kicked Cornichon.
"Hey! Fuck off!" yelled the drummer.
"Lucky for us," said the hooded man. "We're the only ones here. How much gold you got on you?"
Toki fumbled in his purse and pulled out a handful of coins.
The man laughed. "That's all? No, that won't do. Our master won't be pleased with that." Cornichon began to sing again, and the man lifted his leg to kick him.
"Don't hurts him!" cried Toki, his eyebrows furrowing. "He ams a nice man!"
The man delivered another kick to Cornichon's gut.
Toki was on him before he knew what was happening. He didn't even bother with the sword. He leapt up onto the man's back and bit his ear through the hood, hard. The man screamed, and blood poured down his neck from under the hood. "You crazy bastard!" He swung his club uselessly in the air, and the other hooded mean honed in. Toki hissed and kicked at them. He landed one in the chest, but the other grabbed his leg and swung him on to the ground as though he were a rag doll and he landed on Cornichon.
"Watch it!" wailed Cornichon. "I'm trying to sleep here!" Drips of blood fell over their bodies as the men leaned over, and piece of severed ear fell next to Toki's head. He swallowed and saw the gleam of the knife and pistol, and the dull weight of the club as it beat on the table.
"All right boys. That's, ah, enough for tonight." A figure with a lantern, slimmer than the hooded men, slipped in between them. "Don't need another murder on our roster."
"But you said-!" protested the man with the dagger.
"Well, ah, the situation seems to have altered." He knelt down with the lantern and Toki blinked.
"Christ, Count Wartooth," said Ofdensen. "Did they hurt you?" Toki squinted and made out the red tri-corner hat and the glint of the light against the spectacles.
"Master. He bit off my ear!" shouted the man with the club.
"I see. Part of the job description, if you'll recall."
"But-my ear!" the man protested.
He handed the man a small pamphlet. "Employee handbook. Refer to page four, if you will."
"I can't read," said the man. A drop of blood landed on Toki's cheek and he rolled over, groaning.
"Then allow me to read it for you." Ofdensen snatched back the pamphlet and cleared his throat. "Statute sixteen. In the event of any and all employee injuries the liability lies with the employee and not with Ofdensen Marauding and Management. Clear as day, am I right,15?"
"But my name is-"the man protested.
"Statute seven," read Ofdensen, clearly irritated. "Employees will renounce their given names upon employment with OMM and answer to their designated number."
"Oh," said the man, clearly lost for words.
Ofdensen shook his head and pressed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Training new recruits," he told Toki. "The worst part of the job." Another drop of blood fell next to Toki's face.
"Will you back off?" said Ofdensen, shooing the hooded men away. Toki pulled himself up and scowled at Ofdensen.
"I thoughts you were a managers," he said.
Ofdensen shrugged, and sat at the table, resting the lantern. "I am, Count. Among other things. You saw me out there with my pistols.
"But you does that to meets Skwisgaar!" Toki almost shouted. He shook Cornichon, but the drummer rolled back on his side and continued to doze.
"Indeed. I have several business enterprises." He smiled. "This one, at least, is tax-free."
Toki crossed his arms. "I ams sure that consoles you when you ams killing people."
Ofdensen smiled. "It does. The taxes in France are very high. People say it's that Queen of yours."
"Marie?" asked Cornichon, waking up and yawning. "Real nice lady."
"Well," said Ofdensen. "I didn't realize that the wealthy noble on the road was you, of course. That might have changed things. My deepest regrets."
Toki grunted and looked to the side.
Ofdensen looked around. "Now where's, ah, Skwisgaar? I'd have thought he'd be traveling with you." Toki went red.
"Skwisgaar loves Count Wartooth," said Cornichon sleepily, resting his head on Toki's leg. Toki blushed again, scowled, and shoved him.
Ofdensen smirked. "I'm sure he does, Monsieur-"
"Cornichon," said Toki. "He ams a drummer. He plays with Skwisgaar."
Ofdensen's eyes lit up. "A drummer? Do you have representation?"
"Represen- what?" Cornichon pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes.
"I can make you a great deal of, ah, money, on your gigs."
Cornichon blinked, looking both confused and highly interested. Toki shot to his feet. "No you don'ts," he said, pulling up Cornichon by his arm. "We ams leavings here!"
Ofdensen frowned. "That simply isn't necessary. Stay the night. You can have your pick of the rooms."
Toki looked him wryly. "Well, for ones, there ams no one working here anymore."
"Come now! I suppose this man won't be any help." He nudged the fallen innkeep with his toe. "But look!" He marched to a high stack of barrels and pulled out the trembling barmaid from behind them. "This young lady can take care of you."
The barmaid shrieked and dashed out of the building. Ofdensen shrugged. "I suppose that leaves my employees." He gestured down the hooded figures, who were huddling in the dark corner.
Toki shuddered. "No, thanks you! Now ifs you haven't murdered my coachman, I'lll be ons my way."
Toki found his coachman huddling in the barn in terror, a pile of hay over his head. Cornichon was still singing. Toki managed to wrangle both of them towards the coach. And finally, in spite of all the jolts and shocks and bumps from the road, he was able to think.
Now that he had the chance, he felt a strange embarrassment. So much had happened on this night, and so much more would happen when he saw Skwisgaar, when they had a chance to speak, to be alone. His face grew warm, and he pressed it up against the window pain, looking at the web of stars overhead. He felt nervous, but the sensation was almost pleasant. It was as though a landscape as broad as that night was open to him, with as many intricate crossing paths as the spaces between stars. Skwisgaar was still a figure that made him anxious- with such a mocking expression, and such a fierce confidence, it was as though he fed on anxiety. But under all that, Skwisgaar thought of him. The prospect seemed both alien and enchanting, and Toki wondered with some trepidation how the Swede would treat him when they were finally together.
But he kissed me before, on the lips and on the forehead, and he whispered my name too.
And now- now Skwisgaar loved him. Or at least he claimed he did.
Toki glanced at Cornichon. There were so many places this could go wrong.
Could Skwisgaar have been lying, or Cornichon? Or could there have been a simple misunderstanding?
Toki pursed his lips together and could hear his own heartbeat and he pressed up against the window pane and curled his legs under him. He could feel his eyelids sinking, and he was in the parlor of Sangeaux again, in the late afternoon. Skwisgaar was stretched over him, his body melded over his, and they were joined in a kiss as rich and warm as the golden light around them.
No, no, there were no lies. It was real, it had to be.
And now he was awake again, keeping Cornichon steady and fixating on the rising moon. There was another jolt, this one far fiercer, and the carriage pulled to a stop. Toki waited a minute, then another before opening the carriage door.
"What ams happening?" he called to the coachman.
The coachman huffed in frustration, and hopped down from his seat. He looked anxiously about him. The experience at the inn had clearly harrowed him.
"It's no great thing, my lord, simply the horses. We're going to need to change them."
Toki frowned. He studied the surroundings, the dark road and the black woods on either side, and shivered. "How wills we do that?"
The coachman rubbed his forehead. "There's an inn not two miles from here. They should have a full stable where we can change horses- for a price."
"We will pays it." said Toki. He felt an even greater impatience to be back at Versailles. "How far ams we?"
"At this pace?" The coachman shrugged. "Three hours should do it."
They rolled slowly into the inn, allowing the horses a chance to rest. Toki thought of his Skjelve, and felt sorry for them. He let Cornichon sleep and hopped into the inn for a quick drink while the coachman changed the horses. When he came out, a hooded woman was at the door, speaking to a man with a kerchief around his neck.
"There's no chance?" She asked, her voice shaking. "We've been delayed here too long. I must make it there tonight."
Toki started. The voice was familiar. He peered over, but the woman bent her hooded cloak over her face.
The man shook his head. "There's no chance of that, my lady, and there's roads are perilous. I can escort you, but you'd be better making straight for home."
The woman knelt down and buried her face in her hands.
"You said you could get me there," she said bitterly.
"I could have, my lady, if weren't for the search and the lamed horse. I regret it, I do my lady." He sounded sad.
"Don't worry," she said, her voice breaking. "You attempted to help me, and at such great risk. Get me home, and I will pay you regardless."
"Thank you," the man said, the relief plain in his voice. He walked toward the stables.
Toki held a tankard of ale in his hand, and he looked down at the huddled figure at his feet. My lady. So she was a noblewoman. Perhaps she had come from Versailles.
"Drinks this," he said, handing her the tankard.
"You are kind," she said, and took the tankard before pausing. She lifted up her hood and stared him in the eye.
"Baron Wartooth!" She flushed deeply, and stood up.
"Yolande!" he cried, and resisted the urge to throw his arms around her.
Her breathing was unsteady and she averted her gaze.
"You ams in trouble," he said, reaching out for her hand. "Tells me."
She turned her eyes to him and gripped his hand. "I simply…I wasn't expecting to see you here."
"Why? Where ams you going?"
"I was going to you."
Then tears were streaming down her face, and though she couldn't help them, she was making a great effort not to contort her features. She started to speak, and at first her words were incoherent. "Today. Dawn. The two of them…"
"Yolande, I don'ts understand."
"It's Skwisgaar."
Toki's heart beat, and hard. "Tells me."
"He's going to duel, with my husband. Over me," she added, her voice strained with grief. "I wasn't supposed to know, but I found out last night. At dawn today, and I thought if I could just reach you. But we were searched by the customs agent, and my horse was injured and-." She buried her hands in her face.
"But why comes to me?" He asked, his chest aching.
"He trusts you," she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "He talks about you sometimes. I thought perhaps you could talk some sense into him. He wouldn't listen to me- and my husband. No, my husband won't speak to me at all." Her entire body was trembling, and Toki but his arms around her gently before he realized he was shaking just as badly.
"But I found you," she said, her voice growing strong. "There may be time. We must head back together and speak to him."
Toki nodded briskly and they made for the carriage. The new horses were in place and the coachman was ready.
"Cornichon ams with us, "said Toki.
"Thank God," said Yolande. "Skwisgaar will listen to him."
Toki opened the carriage door and grimaced. "I don't knows if he ams in much of a state to talks." Cornichon was curled up in fetal position on the carriage floor, fast asleep.
Lady that she was, Yolande stepped gently over the body as though it wasn't there. "Make it two hours and there ams golds for you!" called Toki.
"Risk our damned necks," muttered the coachman, but he flicked his whip and they were off into the remains of the night.