Page 97 of New Storm Rising
“K-knock, señor. I knew I should have, but—”
“¡Silencio!Do you sink I will tolerate sis kind of behaviour? Questioning me? Interrupting my contemplation of myCabernet Sauvignon 1833? I should have you estrung up and have you whipped for your insolence, fool!”
For some reason, this tirade did not have the desired effect. Rather than being suitably cowed, the philistine who had dared to barge into De La Fuente’s room simply stood there, his eyes flicking between his employer and the window. A window through which, he finally noticed, angry shouts were drifting in for some reason.
“I-I’m sorry, Señor De La Fuente! I shall be glad to accept punishment later, but now…right now sere’s—”
“Yes?” he demanded impatiently.
Just then, behind De La Fuente, something slammed against the window. Damn pigeons!
“Sere…” The useless thug cleared his throat. “Sere seems to be some trouble going on in town.”
“Well? Then what are you waiting for? Take care of it!”
“I would, Señor, but—”
Again, something slammed against the window. Something which decidedly did not sound like an avionically challenged pigeon. Instead, it sounded suspiciously like…rocks?
Growling, De La Fuente whipped around to face the window. “What in Santa Teresa’s name is going on out sere? Who se hell—”
That was when a rock crashed through the window, shattering the wine glass in his hand and splattering red wine all over the floor, walls and Spanish nobleman.
The goon cleared his throat again.
“Ehem…satis going on out sere.”
“¡Campesinos sucios!How dare sey—”
Just then, a brown-green blur shot through the smashed window. A moment later, the mouldy cabbage hit the Spaniard straight in the face. Silence descended over the room. That is, until the cabbage slid down the Spaniard’s front with ashloompnoise and hit the floor with a wet thud.
“Um… Señor.”
“Get sem.”
“Pardon, Señor?”
“I said. Get! Sem!” Fury blazing in the Spaniard’s eyes, he stabbed a finger at the crowd outside the window. “Show sem what it means to anger a Noble of the Spanish Empire!Make sem pay!”
“But, um, Señor, se people are already agitated, and I don’t sink it will be a good idea to—”
“Now!” Reaching over to the wall, the Spaniard tore down the decorative sword that had been hanging there. “Or you’ll be first to be struck down!”
“Y-yes!” the scared little rat nodded, backing away. “Yes, Señor!”
“Go! Let those peasants know what happens when you trifle with Maximo Emilio Reyes Espiridion Victor De La Fuente!”
“As you command, Señor!”
Five minutes later, the room was empty except for a stone, a cabbage, and a dripping wet nobleman who suddenly didn’t feel so good about the decision he’d just made as he had a moment ago.
***
“You,” I told my dear husband, “are a son of a bachelor.”
“I thought we had already finished that argument, Mrs Ambrose.”
“We did. And I won.”
