Diablerie

The small boy sat looking at the scene. The Rector had his back to
him, but he could see his arms moving around emphatically. The two
young ladies stood in front of the Rector heads bowed, looking intently
at the cobbled stones. The boy couldn't hear what was being said apart
from the occasional over expressed "Yooouuu&;#8230;." Or
"and&;#8230;&;#8230;" but he knew approximately what was being
said as he had witnessed everything that had gone before.

It had been a normal morning on market day in Wickham, the local
farmers brought their wears on carts, the wealthier farmers sat on
wagons drawn by horses and the poorer ones dragged their carts
laboriously behind them. It was early summer and the crops were good,
prices had been driven down and the villages were happy except for the
odd greedy farmer who relished a harsh year, and a good price. As it
was though, the Market was getting into full swing with sellers
shouting out their wears and villages buying up their needs. There
sometimes was performers around the square on these market days as
there was today. Fire breathers and jugglers and a wagon at the side
with a play being shown. The local children ran and dashed from one
performance to the other, jumping and screaming with excitement. Groups
of men walked slowly discussing prices and women moved more swiftly
considering purchases.

Of late, the village had grown a great deal as the lands across the sea
prized the regions wool. Merchants often stayed in the area to buy up
the produce, locals were getting richer, and the village prospered.
With this prospering came new opportunities, what was once the only
tavern, now had many rivals with many rooms. Fancy foods were served
and drinks of many descriptions poured. The village was growing into a
town. From down one street there came a lone boy who sat at one edge of
the square and watched, no one seemed to bother him, no one seemed to
notice him and so he sat and watched. After a little while there
appeared the two young ladies, prettier by far than many of the others,
they were the daughters of the local Rector and respected by the
villages on the whole.

However the boy knew differently, he knew what these two were really up
to, what they had been doing for so long now. The boy watched them
approach the square giggling with their hands partially covering their
mouths. He watched them and waited as they walked through the crowds,
for he knew what they were up to. One cart in particular was their
quarry, a local young farmer who kept an orchard. A strapping
individual who was admired by his fellow farmers for turning his
fathers farm from ruin to riches. His apples were thought of very
highly in the village and he stood beside his cart displaying them
proudly.

Then the boy observed the Rectors daughters stand by the cart and look
around, they thought no one was watching and each grabbed an apple.
Retreating and giggling they headed straight for the Tavern courtyard.
Looking behind to see if anyone had seen them they ran right into their
father who was then leaving the tavern, intent on a belch which his
daughters caught full in their faces. They dropped the young farmers
apples immediately. The father picked them up and putting two and two
together, he began to chide them for their rascally behaviour.

The boy watched the Rectors arms wave around and around as a crowd
gathered around, now the boy thought the crowning moment. At which time
the local women from an upstairs window of the Tavern shouted at the
Rector to let his daughters have their spoils as he had certainly just
had his. The crowd roared with laughter and the Rectors family went
redder than the rosy apples they fought over. The boy nobody had
noticed smiled at the side of the square, it seemed so easy to him now
and he knew it would just get easier.