Warning: Paragraph Five contains “coarse” language.
Lester wondered how he could get his beloved, Lady Virgyn, to belove him. She currently had ninety-nine suitors; he wanted to be lucky number 100.
Unfortunately for Lester, she would make him stutter. He practiced but his words still came out jerky: “m-m-y b-b-b eautiful l-l-ady.” He worried that, as he could not speak his love clearly, she would think his wooing was ambiguous.
She received suitors on Mondays 8 to 4; Thursday 4 to 8; and Friday 2 to 4. The crest of the hill upon which her father’s fine manor stood was an undulating mass of hopefulness and love.
Lester patiently waited in line. The flowers he clutched wilted in the hot sun. It seemed an epoch until he was close enough to smell her perfume and hear her tinkling laughter. His eyes were glued to the backs of the those in line. All seemed better dressed, wittier and more worldly. Some recited poems written to her beauty, her virtue, her delicate womanhood. Others brought gifts of exquisite gems, exotic spices, perfect pearls. They had speeches prepared comparing her to their gifts – eyes of gemstone, perfume of cloves and nutmeg, her skin radiant opalescence. Lester looked at his wilted flowers and tossed them in a large vase he passed. Gift less, he thought he should leave.
Just as he was about to turn away, devastated, and head home, Lester heard overheard conversations that shocked him. There were snickers from the suitors before him in line. They spoke of the sordid acts of lust they planned for their wedding night with Lester’s beloved. One “gentleman” in a rich velvet outfit laughed vulgarly, stating there was no reason to wait for the wedding night. His words become even more disgusting when he added that a hymen is a hymen, wedding ring or no. Laughter erupted along the line. Lester was trapped. To leave his spot in the line-up, he would forfeit his chance to see her. Yet, if he stayed, he would be exposed to more vulgarity, more suggestion as to how a “gentleman” could take away his beloved’s precious virginity. And, worse, insinuations on how much she would enjoy it.
Lester had enough. With a rage and strength he did not know he possessed, he defenestrated the five men. They bounced of the roof of a shed, rolled, with some force, into piled bales of blackberry canes and prickle shrub, ending their “ride” in a pig sty. A cries of “well done,” “good to get rid of the beasts,” and expressed fears that mi’lady might overhear if Lester had not acted. He turned red with embarrassment, accepting handshakes from his rivals, and moving five spaces up in the line.
One of mi’lady’s ‘tweenies,” tip-toed past the men dressed as if for a fancy ball. She was getting used to visiting hours, but still felt small and intimidated by so many large men with booming voices. She witnessed Lester’s bravery in stopping the ugly talk of mi’lady. Finally safe in her mistresses’ chambers, she whispered her story to Lady Virgyn’s former nurse maid and now close confident, Mistress Fiona.
In turn, the story was relayed to Virgyn herself. Impressed by Lester’s sense of honour and duty, she sent for him. Twisting his hat into a pretzel behind his back, he strove to not twist his words. He accepted her gratitude, invitation to dine with her that evening, and even a soft, sweet gentle kiss on the cheek. Lester strolled back down the line, his heart racing. Now he was high man on the suitors list.
Written for Mindlovemisery’s Wordle #55.
© phylor 2015 (1225 post)