Black clouds groaned overhead, chilling the wind on an otherwise balmy spring day. Abelard Detmarlend rested his horse for a short while, allowing the beast to feed as he surveyed the lush vista from his saddle. The wide valley spread out before him, the inky green pine forest staining the land beyond. In the middle distance, the small town of Ostelin squatted beneath pillars of hearth smoke. Red and yellow gonfalons fluttered among the smoke stacks.

It had been an unusually harsh winter. The stores were low and many had died. For Abelard though, his preoccupation had been the closed roads. His beloved Heide’s parental manse was at Ostelin and for three months they had been separated. At the first melt of snow, he’d sent a messenger to precede his arrival and now was anxious to make haste. His horse steamed at this desire and well deserved its current rest.

The wedding was planned, and Abelard rolled the plain engagement ring about his finger as he thought deeply of Heide. How he longed to see her once more, longed for their rings exchanged to clink in an embrace of hands so sorely missed. The heady scent of her perfumes filled his mind and the warm sun on his face seemed cool compared to her passion.

The gentle lilt of the birds was broken suddenly by the drumming of a horse at canter. Abelard turned in his saddle to regard a rider advancing behind him. The figure unsettled him and he rested his hand over the basket of his sword, turning his steed gently to meet the stranger.

At ten yards the horse pulled up panting and blowing froth. The figure cut a strange image, clad all in loose black cotton but for an open huntsman’s ghillie coat that flapped about him like leaf-green fur. The figure sported an extravagant, embroidered, but somewhat tattered chaperone hat of black satin. Its tail was drawn firmly across the figures face, obscuring all but his eyes, and even these were cloaked in shadow. And between them, as his horse bucked to a stand, the stranger held steady a grim pistol.

‘Stand sir’, the figure squawked. His voice distorted like that of a marionette master at a carnival show. A comedy voice for the joy of children seemed now all the more sinister when heard along the barrel of a weapon.

‘You riches, which I know you have in that pouch at you thigh; hand them over sir, or forfeit your life!’ He flourished the pistol slightly as his sweat-lathered steed stamped impatiently.

For a moment Abelard considered his options and his fingers tightened about his hilt. The stranger perceived the slight tension and croaked forcefully, ‘sir! For sure you value your life at greater a price than the coin at your belt! Would you make my crime all the greater for your foolishness? Hand it over now and be on your way’.

Abelard released his grip and with scorn for his assailant, and more scorn still for himself, untied the pouch and dropped it to the ground. He bowed his head and rubbed his hand down his moustache.

‘Very good sir, I see we shall both leave today in profit, you have your life, and I have your riches’. The stranger nudged his horse forward slightly, stopping a little closer. ‘The watch at your waist sir; I shall take that also’.

Abelard complied; gritting back his pride cowed under the muzzle, and dropped his pocket watch beside the pouch. The two men regarded each other for strained moments and slowly, Abelard spurred his horse gently on.

‘Hold sir!’ The figure squawked. ‘That ring upon your finger. I shall take that also. And have a care, for my pistol is loaded’.

Abelard closed his eyes and summoned up late defiant courage, ‘that ring is a token sir, and I will not part with it in this life. Do what you will. Take my life if you must, but I will not give you this ring’.

The figure wavered slightly and then with a flick of the pistol, urged Abelard on. As he cantered away, the figure scrambled to the dirt road to retrieve his prize.

***

Abelard stood anxiously in the garden amid the lush topiary. He tugged at his doublet, smoothing it across his stomach, and straightened the cut sleeves. He had slept poorly at the inn, too excited to rest. His annoyance at the events on the road and his impatience to meet Heide once more conspired to disturb him. His money belt had contained further coin, enough to purchase accommodation and a new suit. He had chosen the crimson garb for its style, and as ever that meant a sacrifice of comfort.

Heide appeared suddenly from beyond a topiary dragon, her pale beauty framed in a vivid yellow gown. His heart fluttered painfully as Abelard struggled to maintain decorum. He nested his left hand in the small of his back and strolled slowly towards her approach.

They both stifled smiles which grew as they drew together. As Abelard reached her hem, she offered a gloved hand. He took it gently, feeling their rings knock, and kissed the back of her hand formally. Their eyes never parted.

‘My lady, it is most agreeable to see you once more’.

‘Indeed’, she replied through full lips. ‘Come walk with me a while, and tell me of your winter in Konigstaal’.

The pair spent the morning strolling about the gardens and laughing carelessly, eventually finding seats in the ‘swan’s bower’. As she adjusted her gown to the seating, Abelard noticed a heavy glint at the chatelaine. Hanging there was his watch, taken on the road the day before! He blushed heavily and shifted in his seat, anger and embarrassment welling in equal measure.

Heide noticed his bluff and uneasy posture and coyly remarked, ‘my love! Whatever troubles you?’

‘Nothing’, he responded curtly, ‘please continue the story of your uncle’s venture to Marienburg’.

‘Nothing sir?!’ She responded through half a smile. ‘Ah! But what is this at my knee? Your watch! My, how did that come there?’

‘Indeed!’ He snapped.

‘Well then. The time has come for confession, for it was I that robbed you on the road my love! So here take your watch again’. She rose and approached with a smile fuelled by love and jest, holding out the watch for him to take.

Abelard raised himself, his anger barely concealed.

‘Do not hold temper against me my dearest Abelard. I meant no harm nor to deprive you. I did intend to know, since we are to marry this summer, that if you are my true love.’

‘And how would you know that of me by so gross an act?’ He growled.

‘My dearest! If you had given me that ring I gave to you, I’d have pulled my trigger and shot you dead’. She smiled from her chest and offered up the watch once more.