By request of Lioness's Heart:
Beka and Rosto
"To tangle with our Terrier,
You'd be worse'n a fool,
She brave and true; a really Dog,
And she brought down old Lant with a stool!"
Beka covered her ears and roared, "If I hear one more person singing that sarden song, I swear he'll feel the bite of my baton!"
Sniggers arose from the crowd packed into the Dancing Dove. Most nights, the Dove was filled with petitioners or challengers or Rats waiting to make their reports. Tonight, it was full of spectators.
Beka moaned quietly to herself and rested her forehead down on the table. What had possessed her to do it?
Hearing someone slide onto the bench next to her, she said in a muffled voice, not caring who it was, "I will never live this down, will I."
A familiar chuckle sounded. It was Rosto, of course. Who else would have the nerve to sit down by the Terrier when she was in a mood? He said, "If half the things I've heard are true, then you're right. What really happened?"
"What have you heard?"
"That you the Dogs were in a tight corner when it came to that villain Lant, and you, Tunstall and Goodwin had been sent to sort him out. Something about a fight, with you and Lant the last one's standing, you without your baton and him with a big long knife. It was pretty muddled after that."
Beka mumbled something.
"You did what?"
She lifted her head to face him with a martyred expression. "I shouted that he was a no-good Rat, and gave him a crack over the nob with a stool that had been sitting in the corner where we made our stand."
A rowdy old cove with a tankard in his hand whooped. "And a right solid crack it was too, gixie!"
Someone else called, "Aye, a stool's the proper tool for the job!"
Rosto tried and failed to keep a straight face. "Come with me. We'll get Kora to do something about that cut on your cheek."
Beka smiled ruefully as she stood and followed him into the kitchens. "Do you know if she has anything for injured pride?"
"No, she doesn't. But I do."
"Oh, and what's that?"
They had halted in front of the warm ovens. Rosto leaned over. "This," he said, and kissed her.
The rowdy old cove with the tankard whooped again. He was peering around the kitchen door watching them.
Beka's face went as red as a poppy. The way news spread, everyone in Corus would know before the day was out that a Dog had been caught kissing a Rat.
As she fled up the stairs, she could hear someone in the room next door singing:
"Oh, some'un's tangling with our Terrier,
He's got her heart for good,
But what'll happen when Tunstall hears,
Beka en't acting as she should!"
"I hate you, Koramin Ingensra," Beka muttered as she slammed her door.
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Next time: Daine and Numair by request of singinandlovinit.
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I just wanted to let you all know that this was inspired by a poem I found while doing some research for school. I thought I'd paste it in here so you can have a look. It made me laugh so hard!
The Song of Mrs. Jenny Geddes
By John Stuart Blackie
'Twas the twenty-third of July, in the sixteen thirty-seven,
On the Sabbath morn from high St. Giles the solemn peal was given;
King Charles had sworn that Scottish men should pray by printed rule;
He sent a book, but never dreamt of danger from a stool.
The Council and the Judges, with ermined pomp elate,
The Provost and the Bailies in gold and crimson state,
Fair silken-vested ladies, grave doctors of the school,
Were there to please the King, and learn the virtues of a stool.
The Bishop and the Dean came in wi' mickle gravity,
Right smooth and sleek, but lordly pride was lurking in their eye;
Their full lawn sleeves were blown and big, like seals in briny pool;
They bore a book, but little thought they soon should feel a stool.
The Dean he to the alter went, and, with a solemn look,
He cast his eyes to heaven, and read the curious-printed book:
In Jenny's heart the blood upwelled with bitter anguish full;
Sudden she started to her legs, and stoutly grasped the stool!
As when a mountain wildcat springs upon a rabbit small,
So Jenny on the Dean springs, with gush of holy gall;
Wilt thou say mass at my lugs, thou popish-puling fool?
No! No! She said, and at his head she flung the three-legged stool.
A bump, a thump! A smash, a crash! Now gentle folks beware!
Stool after stool, like rattling hail, came twirling through the air,
With, well done, Jenny! Bravo, Jenny! That's the proper tool!
When the Devil will out, and shows his snout, just meet him with a stool!
The Council and the Judges were smitten with strange fear,
The ladies and the Bailies their seats did deftly clear,
The Bishop and the Dean went in sorrow and in dool,
And all the Popish flummery fled when Jenny showed the stool!
And thus a mighty deed was done by Jenny's valiant hand,
Black Prelacy and Popery she drove from Scottish land;
King Charles he was a shuffling knave, priest Laud a meddling fool,
But Jenny was a woman wise, who beat them with a stool!
Please remember: I didn't write it. I realize that it might offend some people, but then, what won't? Take it in the sense it was shared in: good fun.
