Chapter 2: Michaela

Vernon laughed uncontrollably with an unexplainable excitement. Euphoria flooded through him, along with everyone else who had witnessed the spectacle.

Other guests laughed and clapped as well. Some people had even fallen to the floor in their giddiness. They all felt the same pure joy. The feeling the woman left them with was a true gift. One they would not soon forget.

The woman smiled, proud of what she had just done. Letting the elation wash through the old tavern owner, she waited patiently.

Eventually his laughter died down to a mirthful chuckle. He glanced up at her and almost seemed surprised to see her, as if what he had just experienced might have been a dream. It dawned on him then that she was being quite serious about the story.

Clearing his throat, Vernon said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. But I didn’t catch yer name.”

“Oh my!” she said, putting her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry! Of course! My name is Michaela.”

“Ah, Michaela,” Vernon repeated with wonder in his eyes as he looked closely at the woman’s face. “That’s a fine name, it is. Well, my name is Vernon.”

“It’s very nice to meet you Vernon,” she said, offering him her hand, palm down.

Vernon stared at the hand, not sure what to do with it. After another moment, he reached out and gently took her hand in his. He suddenly felt compelled to lean down and kiss the top of her fingers.

A thrill ran through him as his lips touched her skin. Taking a deep breath, he straightened. He suddenly felt invigorated, a man 30 years younger. Still gently holding the young woman’s hand, he looked around his tavern again with new eyes.

He saw it for what it truly was, a fine establishment made from solid craftsmanship. A place full of history. A place of warmth, comfort, and solidarity. His tavern was a pillar of strength for their community. It was something to be proud of, if not a bit messy currently.

He looked down, meeting Michaela’s sparkling eyes. And he knew then the importance of this woman. Reluctantly, he released her hand.

Without further delay, he began, “Well, if ya really wanna hear Cilia’s tale, I s’pose I have to start with ole Detrick.”

“Oh, yay!” Michaela blurted excitedly. That drew looks from some of the people around her, making her blush. Composing herself, she said, “What I mean to say is that I’m very excited to hear your story.”

Eyeing her, Vernon nodded before glancing around to take inventory of the mess. “Well, I wouldn’t be all that surprised if Detrick stopped by before too long,” he said.

“Oh, wouldn’t that be nice!” Michaela said, her excitement returning briefly. “Now, you were saying?”

“Right, yes. Ya see, Deet’s as much a part of the story as Cilia. He was her champion, protector, and…” the old man cocked an eyebrow, “beggin’ yer pardon… her lover too.”

“Oh,” Michaela chirped, blushing. Vernon stared at her, waiting to see if she had anything more to say. When she didn’t, he continued.

“Understand, I only mention that last part because it's quite relevant. Those twos’ passion for one another was like no other. Detrick’s love for Cilia was unquestionable. But it all ended so very sadly, it did,” he finished with a shake of his head.

“Heartbreaking,” a woman added from behind Michaela.

Vernon took a moment before continuing. “I’m gettin ahead of meself. That’s not the way to start.” Meeting Michaela’s eyes again, he said, “We got to go back. Back about ten years before Cilia and Detrick showed up here. Deet had been fight’n on loan for Lord Shaw.”

“Loan?” Michaela asked.

The bearded behemoth who had first joined Michaela by stomping his foot, sat at the bar next to her. “Oh, yeah,” he confirmed with a nod, eyeing her figure up and down. It was impossible to tell if the nod of approval was for Vernon’s words or Michaela’s exposed cleavage dancing just under his nose.

He continued, still not meeting her eyes, “When de local lords need extra men in a fight, they’ll pay neighbor’n lords for the use of their soldiers. T’is common.”

The young woman nodded with understanding. The big man’s eyes went wide as Michaela’s movement made her breasts jiggle.

“Say,” the large man said, finally looking up into her eyes. “How would ya like an ale?”

Michaela looked at him suspiciously. “They’ve always looked interesting,” she said. “But to be honest, I’ve never tried one.”

The giant oaf leaned back and slapped his leg. “Ho!” he said. “Well then! Let’s remedy that! Vernon!” he yelled.

Vernon rolled his eyes. “Would ya like an ale miss?” he asked. “For that matter, are ya hungry? I still have some stew from this evening’s supper.”

She hesitated—oddly caught off guard by the questions. Then she said, “Thank you. What would you like in return?”

“Bah!” the big man exclaimed. “I’ll pay fer ya, don’t you worry bout it!”

Vernon rolled his eyes again before saying, “Jan! You haven’t been able to pay fer yaself in more than a year! Now, you just be quiet!”

Jan huffed in embarrassment, comically turning away like an overindulged child.

Vernon turned back to Michaela and said, “Lass, you just entertained all me guests better than I’ve ever been able to. You’ve earned yerself a hot meal and an ale if ya want it.”

The woman smiled at Vernon’s kindness. “Well then, a hot meal and an ale would be very nice. Thank you.”

Vernon tapped the bar with his hand and smiled at her. “Then I’ll be right back,” he said.

He whistled the tune to the song Michaela had just sung as he disappeared into the back. And true to his word, he returned soon after with a large bowl of stew and a mug filled to the brim.

He set it down on the bar in front of Michaela, who smiled as she pulled both containers closer. She sniffed the stew. “Mmmmm, smells delicious!” she said.

Vernon blushed over the praise. Michaela turned to the ale and sniffed at the foamy head. She grabbed the handle and lifted the mug to her lips, carefully taking a sip.

When she lowered the mug, a small amount of foam cutely lingered on the tip of her nose. Vernon smiled, offering her a clean napkin. “Thank you,” she said, taking the napkin and wiping the foam away.

And then Martha stepped up behind Michaela, gently laying a blanket over her shoulders. “You must be freez’n my dear,” Martha said with a smile.

Michaela pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders and gave Martha a nod in thanks. As she brought the first spoonful of stew to her mouth, the people in the tavern gathered around, pulling up chairs, preparing to hear the story.

Michaela glanced up again at Vernon. “So, you were telling me about Detrick,” she said.

“Yes,” Vernon continued, glancing around at the gathering crowd. “The fight’n didn’t go so well for Count Shaw’s men, ya see. Not at all.” He cleared his throat. “Shaw’s men were outnumbered four to one. And the Red’s are vicious fighters anyways.”

Vernon’s eyebrows rose up on his forehead sympathetically. “But in the end, none of that much mattered… Poor ole’ Detrick,” he said with a sad shake of his head.

He took a deep breath and gazed across all the townspeople watching him. “Well, let’s see if I can do the man some justice,” he said to them. “Least I can do.”

The townsfolk nodded back at Vernon with understanding smiles.

Looking back down, Vernon met the woman’s eyes. “As the story goes, it all started on the day of that battle I mentioned, when the Reds invaded Lord Shaw’s lands. Ya see, Detrick found himself in a bad spot on that day. A very bad spot indeed…”