The Bowdancer

As they headed down the path with one of his men following, Bastin asked, “Does the bowdancer have a name?”

She smiled. “I am called Jan-nell... and you are Bastin. I do not know yet if we are well met. From where do you come?”

He spread his arms wide. “From anywhere and everywhere. I usually am king of all I can keep my eye on.”

Jan-nell was shocked. “Are you telling me you are a bandit?”

He smiled. “That nasty word has been applied to me. I prefer to be called an adventurer, taking my pleasure where I find it.”

“You mean you rob and pillage and rape?”

He flashed a smile. “I never... rape.”

Jan-nell looked away. She cleared her throat at his bluntness. Yet, considering further, she laughed at his arrogance and shifted her bow to the hand nearest him.

He laughed again. “That quarterstaff is enough to discourage the strongest heart. Is that why you live alone?”

“The child has not come yet.”

“Whose? Yours? It does not happen that way.”

“The next bowdancer,” she answered impatiently as to a persistent child. “I was found at six. The next has not yet appeared.”

“Then what happens?”

“I train her, and she becomes the next bowdancer.”

“And what becomes of you? You flirt with the locals, yes? Who is left by that time?” He looked her over again. “Though I would certainly wait for one as you.”