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A Touch of Spring


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This one is for another quiz that appeared at the Attic. It will be incorporated into In Sheep's Clothing at some point.


The song was one that made the rounds at the local Ren Fair.



“What is the name of this festival?†Delainy asked, her eyes darting furtively back and forth among the throng of boisterous throng of people,


“Greengrass,†replied a pleasant voice to the werewolf’s right, a voice that sent a reassuring thrill down her spine.


“Very…descriptive,†Delainy dryly said, “Are there always this many people Nalia?â€Â


The werewolf felt a slight hand press gently on the crook of her elbow, and slowly dragged her out from among the crowd.


“There are usually more,†explained Nalia’s warm mezzo, “Given the troubles we’ve had as of late, I’m just glad to see this many people taking part.â€Â


Nalia’s gaze settled on her friend, and saw a tinge of green in her friend’s cheeks…and the redness of her eyes.


“What’s wrong Delainy?†asked Nalia, “Did someone slip you some whiskey again?â€Â


“Gods, I hope not†muttered Nalia, quickly looking for the quickest route away from the celebrating multitude. The noble’s urgency was quickened as she remembered the veritable deluge of blood unleashed by the drunken werewolf when someone thought it would make Delainy more…amenable…for a roll in the hay if she was drunk.


I had to burn the robes…I never did get all the blood out thought Nalia, suddenly seeing a parting of the crowd.


“This way,†she cried, her hand locked on the werewolf’s…only to be brought up short as Delainy refused to move.


“I’m not drunk,†growled Delainy, “It’s just all these people and…â€Â


“What about these people?†interrupted Nalia, “Don’t tell me there are too many. I saw you make your way through Athkatla.â€Â


Delainy sighed, “May I finish? It’s all these people and the flowers they are wearing. It’s causing hell on my senses. In the woods, it wouldn‘t bother me…the breeze would carry their smell away. Here…â€Â


Nalia looked guiltily down at her tunic, the garland of flowers a riot of color on the eyes. It contained almost every flower she knew, such as purple foxglove, white daisies, yellow daffodils, orange chrysanthemums, and purple violets, most of whom had been grown indoors specially for the celebration.


“It is traditional…†Nalia said quietly, regretfully fingering the garland the youngest page had presented to her.


“I know,†said Delainy, “So, why did you drag me out here? I was planning on going for a good run…â€Â


Nalia pointed toward a small circle of people laughing and clapping, “I know how you like to hear new songs and stories…â€Â


“Songs?†Delainy whined eagerly, the werewolf‘s enthusiasm overcoming the affects of the blooms, “Why didn’t you say so…â€Â


Nalia started to chuckle as she could picture Delainy’s tail wagging at the treat, then the sound died in her throat as the image clashed with the morals she professed.


“Aren’t you coming?†asked Delainy.


Nalia shook her head, “I have other business to attend to. I will see you this evening…enjoy.â€Â


Nalia reluctantly turned around, as she heard the troubadour start to sing:


“Come gather all ye fellows

And lift a cup to memory

Of a common working fellow

Much the same as you and me

He was a simple goose-herd

A poor but happy working man

When the King's guard came to see him

And gather taxes in this land


When the guards came calling

The goose-herd said he'd try to pay

But he hadn't any money

To send off in the usual way

So he went out to his goose-pens

To choose the finest in his herd

And he told the waiting guardsmen

He'd like to give the King the bird


The captain's face was livid

‘You cannot speak so of the king’

So they took him to the Baron

To have Peer explain the thing

But the goose-herd was determined

He was a man true to his word

‘If I cannot pay in money

Then I shall give the King the bird’


Oh the Baron took to shouting

‘A court of nobles should convene

To keep this peasant quiet

And keep such rabble from our king’

So they gathered all the peerage

But still the man would not be swerved

‘If I cannot pay may taxes

Then I should give the King the bird’


They were ready for a lynching

When in the King's own herald came

He cried out he had the answer

Keep silence in the King's own name

He approached the goose-herd kindly

‘You see you poorly chose your words

It is not the proper etiquette

To try to give the King the bird’

Then the goose-herd seemed to brighten

As if a light came to his head

‘If I cannot give the king the bird

I'll give the queen a goose instead’â€Â

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