“Dear Prudence! It’s been ages. How are you?”
“Well enough, Neil. Thank you for
asking. Let’s see you, shall we? Come Neil; a mother worries when her son
disappears for such a long time. Ah, you’ve done well. Were we otherwise, I’d
say you’ve grown but since we are as we are I’ll say you’ve become more solid.
I’m grateful for you, boy. ”
“Not proud Prudence; just grateful?”
“Pride’s a sin Neil, don’t thou forget.
And Pride comes in many guises, such as this Pledge of yours. Can you say on
oath there’s no pride at all in foreswearing the chase for gentler-found
victuals?”
“They’re still people Prudence; still
our countrymen. And didn’t you accept the Change and survive the wounds of
Marston Moor to make England a better home for goodly folk? I
don’t want to hurt them: I want to protect them which is why I always dreamed
of being a soldier.”
“Jarl Erik says you’ve done well and
sends his regards, though he says you’re too soft with the vanquished. And Sir
Richard greets you and asks ‘Do you ever sup amongst the Moors you’ve bested?’”
“One or two; in the heat of battle or when I’m
unobserved and angered by what they do to their own people. And we don’t call
them Moors now. No; it’s the half litre bag for me and moonlit helicopter rides
when duty calls. Let’s go into town. There’s a pub by the hospital and a nurse
I need to meet and pay tonight. She doesn’t ask much and I like to keep friends
all across the city, which beats making enemies…or making too many friends.
Hey, Prudence, not that way; it’s too dark and secluded down there, and… Oh, marvellous.”
“Well, good evening’, sir and bitch.
Nice watches. Expensive. And what’ve you got in the briefcase for us tonight,
eh?”
“Prudence, you’ve tricked me again.”
“A lad needs to work for his supper sometimes.
It’s good for the character and fine, healthy exercise – and will a dozen
footpads be missed?”
“I do work for my supper Pru, but now I’ve no
choice but stick around so you don’t finish them off. And you, yes; you with
the knife. You obviously don’t watch enough television.”
“Wotcher mean, you little queer?”
“Wotcher mean, you little queer?”
“When you watch films where one or two
harmless-looking people in dark alleys are menaced by gangsters and they don’t
act scared at all, or run …What happens to the gangbangers every single time?
No idea? Too late: there she goes. Prudence, don’t empty them – leave the
dregs. I mean it, mother.”
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