Hell Hath No Fury....

[Dhugal]

"Where do you think you are going, John Bates?"
John finished buckling the harness on the horse and turned to look
at his wife. "Where else would I be going? To market! Are the eggs
ready for delivery to the Dagger?"
The look on his wife's face was enough to make John take a step back.
"No, there will be no eggs for market today. At least not for THAT place.
Did you hear what happened to the cup?"
"Mary, it's only a cup."
"It was NOT just a cup! It was my mother's and she gave it to me on
the day I married you. It was the first fine thing I owned, and I promised
it to Blessed Pritchard when that blood plague came if he spared us and
the children. And that..that..woman...threw it out like trash. You heard
what Brother Cyth told us. "
"But Mary..where will we sell our eggs?"
"We'll find a place." Mary had that stubborn look on her face."And until
we do, we'll barter them with other folks for what we need. We don't need Myrken. We grow our own food. We spin our own yarn. We make our own clothes."
John frowned. "But there's other things we need."
"Then we'll go elsewhere. Myrken folk look down their nose at us
because we sent a few offerings to their precious tavern? Hmmph. We'll
see about that. Finish hitching up the horse. We're going to see my sisters."
Inwardly, John groaned. Mary had five sisters, all of them married to farmers in this district of Myrken. "Which ones?"
She climbed into the cart and waited. "All of them. We're going to boycott Myrken and THAT tavern. We don't need them. They need us."

[NightSteel]

Having five sisters was all well and good, however, Mary and John Bates also had neighbors.

Nosy neighbors.

After hearing that little exchange, Sarah Jones hurried on home with a certain look on her face, basket hooked over one arm. She had just come from Myrken, having picked up a few sewing supplies. She had needed buttons and thread, to be precise--her family farm was based upon cattle, pork, and a few chickens. 'Scandalous!' said her expression.

She blustered into her kitchen. "Ezekiel! Do you know what I just heard!"

The gray-bearded Ezekiel sighed. That Sarah.. such a firebrand! "No, Sarah, what did you just hear?" He spoke slowly, and tiredly. The woman was a terminal gossip.

"The Bates' have stopped sellin' to the Broken Dagger! Over what? A cup! I heard Mary yelling at John on my way past! They're going to go talk to her sisters! Now you git over there and snatch up that business!"

Ezekiel gave her a look. He never understood what that Sarah's obsession with getting one-up on the neighbors was all about. He was a calm one, content to do good, honest work and live out his days. He wondered sometimes why he had agreed to marry her. Looking back, he wasn't sure that the dowry was worth the incessant chattering, even if it had added to his land holdings significantly. Sarah, however, had a point. Business was business, and his sales *had* been flagging a little lately. It was hard to compete with the power of six farms working together, but if they were going to stop supplying.. "You're sure you heard right?"

"Yes, yes! Now hurry, before the Smiths hear about this!"

Inwardly, Ezekiel Jones grumbled. Sarah just may turn out to have been responsible for saving the farm. He would *never* hear the end of it. But he went and got his saddle ready anyway. Knowing Sarah, he *did* have to hurry. All of Myrken would hear about it from her, before long!

[Mikhail]

After a long bit of hours, there was a voice that called out into the darnkess, to the owners of the Bates farm, the vagabond who was known as Mikhail would call out towards the house, ment on sleeping the night until early dawn to tend their farm. "Wake up ya bunch a fools!" Hands cupped to his lips as he yelled, from the vantage point of their lawn. "Be hearin' ma once I be assurin', fer ya is na asleep yet .." He noted the few flicks of light, of when Mikhail had finally arrived at the farm it was barely nighttime, surely there was atleast -one- son awake to hear his call; they were lucky he didn't kick down their door and wake them all up to hear his words. "Tha monk be lyin', he bein' disrespectful ta tha rules o' the tavern, Broken Dagger. He be putting tings tha bein' wrong on tha bar, an' tha barmaid be tellin' 'im ta na do it, den he be arguin' and she accidently be breakkin' tha cup ta make tha monk's bad shrine be goin' away! He be lyin' ta ya, he bein' unmonkla ta be talltalin' on tha good maid. Ya 'eard i' from Mikhail, tha new tender dere in tha tavern, an' ifin' ya dun wnat ta be givin' us ya wares, then ya be lossin' good business ova lies!" He huffed out, through his cupped mouth, and before anyone could give him a reply, he was walking away from the farm; they obviously would make a choice to what they believed after -that-, whichever the choice -was-.

[Dhugal]

Unfortunately for the Jones', Sarah was seen walking away
from outside the Bates' barn by one of their farmhands.The
fellow dutifully reported seeing the woman skulking about on their
property to his employers, and Mary Bates' eyes narrowed.
"She thinks to gain by other's misfortunes. Well..hmph...
we'll see about that. John, we'll see Lucy first. Lucy, and her
husband, Wat."
John groaned inwardly again. Wat was the only miller in the
immediate district. Yes, there were others, but further away in
Myrken,which meant crossing areas that had been dangerous of
late. As he drove the cart along, he could see where Mary was
heading with this. Without a mill, grain could not be ground to
feed. Without feed, cattle and chickens could not be fed. Anyone
breaking the embargo would not be able to do business with
the only miller nearby. Knowing Wat, he'd do as Lucy insisted.
The six sisters had married well, and there were the two brothers
and their families to boot. And most of the women folk, like Mary,
had taken a dim view of Myrken Town after all the disasters of the
past few years. It would not take much persuasion to get them to
go along with the embargo. And they in turn would exert pressure
on their in laws..this could be bad. Very bad.
***********************************
"John! John! Wake up..there's a madman outside!"
"Mary, what the..?"
"Shh! Listen!"
And so John lay there and listened. When it was over, Mary
sat up in bed.
"The nerve! A drunk from THAT place with lies about Brother Cyth!
Wait until I tell the others about this!"
John sighed. He'd get precious little sleep now this night. Whoever
that fool had been, he'd really stirred up the hornet's nest now!
__________________

[NightSteel]

Ezekiel had returned from his little outing after a short while, and he had found Sarah, of course, at the center of a ring of clucking hens.

"Oh, oh, Ezekiel! Did you hear what they're saying!"

"No, Sarah, what are they saying?" He sighed. If she was that worked up, not even caring if he had managed to sell their eggs, it was definitely going to be a long night.

"That Mary Bates is telling people that I was mucking about on their property, preying on their misfortune! Misfortune, indeed. If there's any misfortune to be had here, she creates it for herself!" She puffed, indignant.

"Were you?" The gray-bearded farmer eyed her, flanked as she was by her biddies.

"...Of course not! I was walking by on the road from Myrken! You know how that woman's voice is when she gets cross! Some lying field-worker, no doubt, intending to gain favor with her!"

Ezekiel tended to believe her. She was a gossip, to be sure, but not much of a liar. He'd lived with her long enough that he could tell. "This is fast getting out of hand, S--"

"It's already out of hand! I won't have these lies spread about me!" Indeed, the old maids' network was already operating in full swing--Ezekiel could see in the distance a pair of women walking away, chatting animatedly, and others on their way. This all had to be Sarah's doing.

Well, maybe it would be good for business. Perhaps the Bates' and their relatives control upon prices could finally be broken, if they could get together enough support. There was nothing that that family did that there wasn't someone else to do. There would be inconvenience, surely.. but in time, that would all be worked out.

Tomorrow, though, Ezekiel would speak to John Bates. Ezekiel Jones was an honest man, and he did honest work, and he didn't much care for the hens to be drawing battle lines for him. Even a return to the status quo would be good enough for him. Besides, he didn't--couldn't--have the whole story. Over a cup? That *couldn't* be everything. It was just ludicrous.

[Dhugal]

It was not just over one broken porcelain cup. The fine comb
and brush set that belonged to a miller's wife had been sent by
Mary's sister Lucy Miller. The plain brown clay cup had been the
offering of the widow of a farmer from a less prosperous family
but still one that was well respected .
The wives and mothers of many farmers in the area had been alarmed
by recent events in Myrkentown. The latest one, the rioting near that
huge sword, had actually claimed one or two men from their families.
Why should they risk death in Myrkentown if a lowly barmaid could
casually toss their heart felt offerings out the tavern door like so much
garbage?
Worse still, she was a newcomer. And another newcomer had insulted
Brother Cyth who everyone knew couldnt hurt a fly. Now the monk had
vowed never to return to the Dagger until apologies were made, and
his friends would follow suit.

Word traveled quickly from farm to farm in the outer districts

[NightSteel]

Word did indeed travel quickly. Lines were indeed being drawn. Would cooler heads prevail, or would the old wives' network destroy the province's economy, all over a few mere things?

Only time would tell..

[channe]

Agnieszka Kaczmarek thought very little of Brother Cyth and his beliefs -- especially now as they were poised to make her hungrier.

She'd been there, of course, upon the date of the proclamation of the doctrine of Blessed Pritchard.

She'd seen that devil-thing use the bar as if it were a canvas, bouncing his screeching carcass about with a magical paintbrush in hand, uttering some kind of frighteningly potent spell that had caused daisies to pop out of her ears. His red paint had dropped from the rafters as if there were a dead body draped there like a cieling-fan; it was this -- this paint, paint! nothing more! -- that the idiot madman monk had called the blood of the Blessed Pritchard and -- and, well, began the tale of his martyrdom and sainthood and the rest of the crock that Myrken Wood was swallowing like a baby lamb at his mother's teat.

She'd liked the barkeep, but -- this? She had half a mind to give that Brother Cyth what-for the next time she saw him!

Her mother, Magda, was at the helm of the gossip syndicate on the farm, so Agnie knew quite keenly what happened when hysteria takes over a story. Magda, who was quickly becoming an old biddie herself, fell to the side of the Millers and Mary Bates, no matter how much Agnie tried to sway her. Perhaps, Agnie thought, was that her story -- her true story -- was even more improbable than the one sainting Pritchard the Barkeep.

The entire thing was the work of madmen, she concluded.

Blessed Pritchard. Hah!

[Mikhail]

Yes, well. Drunk men do rash things, and Mikhail? He had an abundance of both quirks plaguing him it would seem. It's not like he's the smartest man either, but one could say that since he was truely a nobody; even moreso to the folk around these lands, it didn't matter much what he thought. One thing was for sure though, he wasn't about to let the name of that good maid go sour with the chatter of bored housewives and the antics of a -- in Mikhail's eyes -- man that had no respect for people or property. Mikhail couldn't be swayed otherwise on that matter, for perhaps here such men of the cloth's words were holy and true, but tell that to the thousands of his kin being slaughtered in the name of their god, the families' land once green with harvest now dead and drentched in the blood of their innocent children. Unfortunately, such belief's made him on the opposite side of these supposed battle lines.

[NightSteel]

Late the next day, Ezekiel Jones made an excuse to get away from his wife and her biddies, mumbling something that she didn't hear anyway in all the chatter. Sarah cared not, she was doing what she loved the most. Ezekiel had made a resolution to himself yesterday, and he intended to carry it out.

The gray-bearded farmer put on his hat and strode out of his house, off his property, and down the road. He made no effort to hide himself from his neighbor, walking right up the Bates' front path to their house and knocking on the door. "John and Mary Bates! It is Ezekiel Jones, and I would like to speak business with you, if the time is convenient!"

[Dhugal]

John had spent his day tending to the farm's business, but all
day long there had been a steady stream of female visitors to the
farmhouse to talk with Mary, and the few times he'd been able to
watch, those leaving seemed to nod to his wife in agreement before
setting off for home.
Dinner had been a hushed affair, and the younger children just sent
off to bed when the knock came at the door followed by the voice of
Ezekiel Jones.
Mary immediately bristled. "The nerve of that man."
"Now hush, mother. We don't know why he's here yet." John rose
and walking to the door, opened it up to his neighbor. "Mite late
for you to come calling, Jones, isn't it? What is it you want at this
hour?"

[NightSteel]

"I apologize for my timing, John Bates. It was the earliest that I could get away." Ezekiel took off his hat, wringing its brim a little. He figured that John would understand the reference to his wife rather than to his work. "I don't mean to disturb you, or Mary Bates. I am here to apologize for Sarah."

He took a breath, and continued. "This business is out of hand, John Bates. Half the province is intent upon denying anything to Myrken, and to the other half of the province that isn't. Now.. Brother Cyth is a good man, an' none of us would ever disagree with that. But he isn't exactly the sharpest scythe in the barn, and I know you and Mary Bates understand." He gave John a look, then, a serious look.

"When I was in Myrken yesterday, I heard tell of it from the city folk. It seems to me that all of this could be a misunderstandin'. There was a lot of talk of property being owned by somebody else. Would you be happy, John Bates, if a man not of your faith wandered unbidden into your barn, or your dining room, and set up his shrine? How about Mary Bates' kitchen? Your bedroom?"

Ezekiel was doing his best to talk sense without accusing anyone of anything--well, except Brother Cyth of a slight malady of the mind. He knew that Mary Bates would have almost nothing of what he said, though. After all, the networks *were* in motion. That, of course, was why he was speaking to John Bates. Finally, he appealed to the business sense of his neighbor.

"I think, John Bates, it would be a good idea for you and I to go there tomorrow, try to find this newcomer, and hear what she has to say. I would very much like to return your business to where it rightly belongs, and put this whole mess behind us. If a way is not found, then crops will sit and die unsold, and it will not be the people of Myrken Township who suffer." Ezekiel Jones would not lose his farm, no matter how many millers refused him. He would find a way.

Ezekiel Jones was an honest man, and he did honest work.

[Dhugal]

John heard the man out..it was the polite thing to do..but then he
shook his head.
"The woman went too far, Ezekiel. Twasn't Brother Cyth's idea to put
them there in the first place. The folk who sent him asked him to do it.
And it t'wasn't the first time he did it. Th' lass could have waited until
the next day and taken it down then quiet like. But no, she threw it
all outside the door..and there's witnesses she did that. She insulted
all the families who sent things. I bet if Cyth had left the money pouches
on the bar as well, she'd not have thrown those out, now would she?"
He shook his head again."I am not happy that things have come to
such a pass, but the women folk are angry, and nothig short of that
new barmaid's apology will settle this ruckus now."
Good eve to you, Ezekiel"

[NightSteel]

Well, he had given reason his best effort. "Good evening, John Bates." Ezekiel put his hat back on, with a polite nod, and turned around to leave. Mentally, he began ticking off the largest customers of the Bates, and of the farms of Mary Bates' sisters and brothers. He, like plenty of the other struggling farmers in the province, saw opportunity in the Bates' unwillingness to budge. He, like plenty of the other struggling farmers in the province, would feel no remorse in seizing it.

He still liked, however, the idea of going to visit Myrken and speaking to this vilified newcomer. Maybe he would anyway. Sarah might even like to come along--it would give her something else to yap about.

[Dhugal]

"Is he gone?" Mary was waiting for him in the bedroom.
"Yes he is. He will take advantage of this, mark my words."
Mary snorted as she made ready for bed. "He might try...
he might even succeed for a few weeks. But no matter what he
and the others do, those with us will stand firm. And that means
that what little we can't make for ourselves, we'll buy elsewhere
than Myrken Town. We've already discussed this. It's a long way
until harvest, yet..crops just barely planted.And Wat has enough
feed already ground to feed our livestock."
"Mary.."
"Don't Mary me, John Bates! And another thing! We've all agreed
that we'll not sell any of the ale we've brewed to the Dagger or
anyone else from Myrken Town."
John sighed."And what will we do with the ale then?"
"Why, John Bates..the same as you'd do if y ou were at the Dagger!
Drink it!"
He blinked..and then laughed as she grinned at him.
"Woman, you are a caution!"