Page 5 of 5 This left Guilliume le Courageax and the Marquis to walk to their respective lodgings. Guilliume inquired as to how those women could move their bodies in the manner they did and the Marquis said “years of training”. Guilliume admitted the evening had a profound effect on him and the Marquis responded that he too, had been effected but not with churlish thoughts. For the dancers had danced, and undulated and wiggled and shook, and they were happy. He saw the sincerity of enjoying the music and the dancing. Their female laughter had been genuine and they were able to have old fuddy duddy Bretonnian Nobles relax and forget about the horrors of war. “Sir d’Ascoyne, I am not an old fuddy duddy”, protested the younger noble. The Marquis reminded le Courageax of the red haired dancer. Guilliaume immediately understood for she had danced in front of him and their eyes had met many times during that long dance. The younger Noble blushed, “Oh, I didst behave unnobly towards her, I fear. I shall not hide behind the alcohol or the company of friends I was with. I feel most badly about it.” They arrived at le Courageax rooms and the Marquis bade him a goodnight and a bit of information. “That’s all well and good, Sir Knight, but she came to me and made bold an inquiry as to your name and your duchy. She said she could help you in many ways.” Guilliume le Courageax was sobering up fast! He leaned against the wall and sighed a deep sigh. An Arabian Beauty at his doorstep! Oh the havoc that would bring! And a Dancer at that!! The Marquis tapped his companion on the shoulder. She is not ‘just a dancer, Guilliume”, he said calmly. She is a Scribe of the first order, she keeps the Accounts of her father’s shipping service. She is educated as well.” The information sank in slowly, like thick oil on a sponge. I am providing you with her location in L’Anguille as she lives there with her father. Do as you wish, I feel she is sincere in wanting to work for you.” He patted the young man on the back and guided him through his doorway and then down the stairs to the street, 70 paces west and into his own apartment.. Now it was the Marquis turn. He entered the apartment chewing sprigs of mint. He tiptoed across the outer room and entered the bed chamber. The room was well lit and his wife of 38 years reading in bed. She asked him without looking up, . “Were the dancing girls of Araby to your satisfaction?” “By the stars, I have never seen such lovely rhythmic women, young le Courageax may have found the Seneschaal he has been looking for and-“ Here he stopped in mid sentence. The Gorgon had struck!! He could feel his feet and legs slowly turning to stone!! His heart sank, he stared stupidly ahead. “Oh Hercule, When you are honest with me I forgive all!” She came out of bed to help him undress. Realizing that the Gorgon had blinked and spared his life, he sighed a great sigh of relief. His wife continued. “Honesty is always the best policy, m’dear” and she gave him little kisses as tokens of her affection. Dumbfounded, he was led to bed to dream of Djinns and Efrits and Flying Carpets, but mostly about dancing women.
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