At Wit's End

Jessamyn gripped the heavy coin pouch and stood in a defensive position. Money does provide security in more than one way.

She moved, swiftly and elegantly with the grace of a dancer, her every movement calculated and precise. Her silk skirt bellowed in the wind around her legs like a tempest caught in silk.

Her assailant, the burly man with a snarl etched deep into his features, swung his blade with brute force, each strike aimed to cleave through her slender neck. But she was no easy prey. With a flick of her wrist, she parried his blows, fighting for an innocent in the confined space.

Seeing that she was a tough opponent, the other man joined, with a thick jute cord in hand. Jessamyn dodged the cord slicing the wind like a whip. At that time the burly man slashed her with the blade and she blocked it with the pouch. She saved her neck, but…

*Clang*

The pouch split open, spilling the coins on the dirty cobblestone pavement. Jessamyn pressed her lips seeing the torn piece of leather in her hand; the only weapon she had left was now useless.

"Pesky wh*re!"

The man wielding the blade spat at the wall and wiped his mouth on his sleeve while smirking at her. The other man folded the cord and prepared for his next attack.

Behind them, she saw the basket moving a little. A whimper of a child followed.

"Maa…ma…"

The heart-rending whine of the helpless child caused a hurricane in her heart. She wanted to run and hug that scared little boy.

But she needed to defeat those two men before getting to that boy. 

Jessamyn bowed her head and took in a deep breath. She may not be wearing her workwear; trousers would be more comfortable than the silk skirt, for sure. But her eyes glimmered with determination to take the fight head-on.

Wicked people shouldn't have peace!

She threw the torn pouch down and took the stance of defense. If she knew there would come a time when she would be left without her trusted crossbow and poisons, she might have concentrated more on those combat lessons taught by her master. But it didn't matter. She was used to picking fights with men larger than her from a young age. She knew how to street-fight.

With a roar, she charged at the men.

-----

Isadora's grip on Bernard's collar loosened only after she saw her lady's head disappearing in the crowd.

She took a step back and fixed her skirt. Bernard was still leaning, his eyes unblinking and mouth agape.

It was just a kiss on the cheek. Why is he so…

Isadora's brain only then registered the gravity of what she had done. Till then, she only wanted to give her lady a good time and didn't think much about her actions.

She did notice everyone in the shops looking at Bernard weirdly. She thought it was respect because he was the archduke's right-hand man. And now she had caused a big issue.

I kissed a man in the middle of a crowded street! What have I done!!!

Isadora's lips trembled as she looked around. Her eyes reddened out of embarrassment. Some people didn't mind but the women in the stalls glared at her. She had a feeling everyone was looking at one particular woman as if they were expecting that woman's reaction. That particular woman wearing widow's weeds didn't even look in their direction, pointedly.

The other women then snickered among themselves as they looked at Isadora and Bernard. If it weren't for the tourists patronizing their stalls, Isadora thought that those women would stone her for promiscuity.

I am not a loose woman…

Isadora wanted to say. She shrank out of embarrassment and her ears rang. She felt like she was on trial, naked, in front of a thousand eyes. She saw one fat woman curling her lips at Bernard and said something to mock Bernard.

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry…" she gripped the big man's sleeve and whispered, her voice barely above the ring of a mosquito.

She couldn't bear that Bernard got mocked in his hometown because of her. He was a respectable man and her brazen act had caused him shame.

Why didn't I think of him?

Bernard, on the other hand, was floating in heaven oblivious to what was happening in the world he was in.

I was kissed tenderly by a woman!

Isadora's despaired voice snapped him out of his reverie and he descended from heaven only to see her tear-soaked cheeks. His heart sank to his heart.

"…They're mocking you because of me. I'm sorry…" she said and sniffed.

Bernard blinked and stood straight. Clearing his throat, he spared a glance at the women in the stalls. Those women avoided eye contact with him and proceeded to mind their business. As always, they never had anything to say to him.

His eyes ended on the woman wearing the widow's weeds. That woman didn't spare a glance at him and was talking to her customers. Standing just a few meters away from her, Bernard felt like he was in a different world from her.

His lips trembled and he fisted his hands. However, he hardened his heart. He held the hand of the little woman now crying because she thought she brought him shame.

Her hands were cold when he held them. Her eyes widened as she looked at him. Another drop of tear rolled down her cheek.

He stretched out his hand. He did so smoothly, not to startle her. With his hands just inches away from her hand, he noticed that her face was almost the same size as his finger.

How small is she? She's crying for me…

He couldn't hold back from touching her anymore when he saw her eyes filling with tears once more. "Don't cry," he wiped her tears. His voice shook. He never thought there would be someone crying for him. He was a wretched being undeserved of compassion. 

"I'm…" Isadora couldn't even speak as a sob escaped her throat.

"No," Bernard said, holding her hand. His heart split seeing the tears down her cheeks.

What can I do to stop her crying?

He writhed in pain as he felt helpless. Every teardrop in her eyes felt like someone stabbing a knife into his heart. 

At that time, something unexpected happened. Above them flew the bird that could imitate human speech—the archduke's pet bird.

"Danger!!! Danger!!! Sword!!!"

Isadora's ears perked up and she looked up. "It's that myna bird!" She exclaimed. Her tears dried up and she sniffed pulling in the snot. "Bernard! Milady is in danger!"

Without even caring for him, Isadora then turned and ran toward the direction the bird flew from. Having no other way, Bernard grabbed her hand and led her.

At least she was not crying anymore!

He had a feeling where that woman might have gone if she ran into danger. He rushed through the alleys. Seeing him running at them, the crowd split giving them way. He couldn't find that woman in the usual dangerous areas.

Where could she be?

-----

In the dead-end street, Jessamyn was at her wit's end. On one hand, she had managed to coil the cord around so that the man wouldn't be able to attack her with it. On the other hand, she was holding the fisted hand of the man. The blade was by her feet.

The burly man grabbed her hair with his other hand when she tried to grab the blade. The other man let go of the cord and tried to get the blade. Jessamyn tried to kick the blade away but the burly man twisted her hair making her eyes water.

Ah! Am I going to die here…? Like this…?