It was night. The smells and sounds of the local taverns stirred, it brought a smile to his boyish face. It was always entertaining this job. Sometimes the person would cry in shame after the act; begging god for forgiveness of their sin. Especially if it was a male customer that he had attended to. That gave the perfect opportunity to blackmail more money out of them.

Around town there had been whispers of revolution. As much as John loved the idea of the Lords being cast down; the noble women being raped while scrubbing the floor and being able to take whatever plunder he wanted for himself. He had no desire to be hung up in a cage for the sport of animals, bored military men or the mob.

He sighed, the scent of the beer he had been drinking coming from his lips. As experienced eyes gazed at the crowd, looking for someone who may be interested in his trade. There were a few; some trying to hide the fact they were eying the prostitutes as they walked about.

His thoughts went back to Jessie; his dark Jezebel of a sister. Maybe that was the name that his Mother had been thinking of when she named the daughter. She was pretty, young, flirty and easily able to grab any man she wanted for trade. While John was certainly pretty, it was harder to encourage those who still have social and moral qualms about having sex with a man.

It was cold. But he had to promote himself as it were. He opened the front pair of his shirt by loosening the laces and ruffling his hair to make him look younger. People were always such perverts. A somewhat innocent and frightened look came across his features, the perfect lure for people. Plus there was the added bonus of customers thinking they could take advantage of him. The cocky bastards were bound to get a treat.

Leaning against the wall, he waited.

Oh how the night was young. Jessie had just awakened not three or four hours ago. She would have awakened at dawn like everyone else in the city but she hadn't even gotten to sleep until then. Oh what wondrous fun the world was when most of the Lords and Ladies went to bed. They didn't know what a sinful world lay beneath their feet. They were too busy sleeping the day's troubles away.

Last night had been a grand night for Jessie. One would think she wouldn't gather as many client because she was so young and didn't have any curves yet. But she was sneaky. All she had to do was lie to them and tell them that she hadn't gotten her monthly bleeding yet. Without the risk of getting her pregnant, the men flocked to her bed. She hadn't known a night without sex for quite awhile.

Now it was the perfect time to start all over again. The men and women of this place were all asleep and the men and women of the night were taking to the streets. Already she could spy those who looked at her with an over-eager eye. She would have winked at them or something but she wanted to find her brother first. She needed to give him some of last night's profits.

Alas, she saw him already on his street corner. How she loved John. He was just standing there with his shirt open but still, he was perfect. And he was hers. She ran up to him, pulling her hair out of their plaits. He was such a beautiful man. The best of the man whores, he was. "Good evening brother dear." she said and kissed him. "How did your night go last night?"

John was skilled at manipulating potential clients. Look a little bit innocent, confused, try to make yourself look younger that always seemed to do the trick. A man who seemed to be decently wealthy was eying him, but seemed to be quite shy about it all. The pimp/prostitute was about to approach him when seemingly out of nowhere Jessie appeared.

Inwardly he cursed. But she was Jessie and had a special place in his heart. Putting an arm around her, the illusion of a helpless youth was broken and the man walked off to seek amusement elsewhere. He returned her kiss, on the lips and it was too intimate for siblings. Well normal siblings.

“Hello Jessie love, it was good. Three sucks and one fuck, not too bad. Got some tips and yourself” He asked; with a friendly rivalry in his eyes.

The brother didn’t like his sister working alone. He knew what could happen to a prostitute who worked alone. He had been beaten, raped, earnings stolen and spending the next few nights too bruised, swollen and ugly to be able to work for a while. He didn’t want this to happen to her.

Putting his arm around her as they walked together. “Tell me Jessie; have you been following the rules. Staying safe?”

The sun having long since dipped below the horizon Owain stepped from a dark side street into the dimly lit main commons of the village surrounding Lawley castle. As his errands for Lady Katherine had been completed faster than anticipated he decided to take a stroll around the village square. Keeping an open ear to whispers and rumors in town was one of his unofficial duties.

Stopping, he gazed about the space with disinterest. As he was doing this the sound of a sharp, raspy, intake of breath captured his attention. He turned to locate the source of the disturbance and was greeted with the sight of a disheveled looking farmer; drunk, and familiar. “Ahh…him…well this should be entertaining,” he thought as a smirk played its way onto his face.

“You,” the drunken farmer growled. His weather-beaten face dark and his eyes glazed with inebriation. “You’re tha one,” he slurred “You’re tha one tha dun et.” With a growl of fury he lurched unsteadily toward Owain. “Been look’n for yeu,” the man rumbled darkly. A wave of anguish and hate suddenly raked the mans form. “Tha Devil take yeu!” he screamed, lunging toward Owain. His intent to harm etched clearly in the expression of his face. Two other serfs who had been witnessing the event ran up; grabbing him just as he was inches from the younger man. “Nicholas…dun be givin ‘em tha satisfaction,” one of them pleaded as they strained to hold him back. “E’ll jus’ ave ya hanged,” the man’s friend said with a tinge of remorse.

Owain just glowered at the man. He had not moved a muscle since the start of the event and seemed nothing but unconcerned. “No no good sirs,” he responded; his voice taunting and sarcastic. “Let him go.” An evil smile stretched across his face. “We have been too long without a hanging.”

A dozen emotions ranging from extreme hatred to pitiful frustration contorted the farmers features. Brimming tears of despair rolled down his rough cheeks as the futility of the situation settled itself upon his mind. Sobbing openly he pulled away from the other men. “Ow could ya do et!?” he cried imploringly. “She be jus’ a slip of a girl!” With those words his strength failed him. He fell to his knees dejectedly. “Ow could ya do et…” he said again. His voice had dropped to a sorrowful moan. “Ya ruined ‘er…aint no man gonna marry ‘er now.” His tears began to flow in a steady stream. “She ain’ been tha same nether….jus’ cries ‘n wimpers to ‘erself inna corner.” His remorse evolving beyond tears he lowered his head and just stared into oblivion. Too broken to stand; too drunk to avenge the wrong.

An explosive burst of hideous laughter escaped from Owain’s lips at the dramatics. The farmer cringed at the sound; his friends stared daggers at the well dressed lad. “If I even did care what am I to do eh?” he said coldly after his mirth had subsided. “Tis your own fault for letting the lass play by herself in such a secluded spot.” He grinned, “Tis no-ones fault but your own.” His brazen words cut deep into the broken man. “Besides,” his voice took on an amused lilt as he spat out a final remark. “I am certain there is someone somewhere who finds lasses with eye-patches alluring.” The last words sputtered out of laughing lips as he sauntered, chortling, away from the men. Behind him the farmer struggled to stand and lunge again but was pulled back by his friends.

His footsteps fell lightly as he continued cross the common toward his original target.“I was right,” he thought. “That was entertaining.” He quickened his pace and moved to intercept his old friend who was walking along seemingly engrossed in conversation with another being. A bright smile still lighting up his face as he reached his destination. “John.” He stopped short before of the young gigolo. “Still plying the trade I see. Come, I have a proposition that will earn you half again your normal fee. Let us speak more privately.” His smile had faded but his voice belied an uncommonly mirthful behavior. At least uncommon for someone who’s usual interaction with the peasantry involved chillingly snarled commands and threats of unorthodox punishment.

There was a certain way that the Smith siblings went about their business. They pretended to be way younger than they were. They also pretended to be innocent. Every good prostitute knows that most of the customers they get want to dominate them. Not many people want to be dominated. And if they did, there were special prostitutes for that. Jessie could now see the older man who walked away from the siblings, looking slightly dejected. She inwardly cursed herself.

A few more seconds and John would have had his next customer. She had ruined all that by approaching him first. If she was anyone else but herself, he would have slapped her for that. But no, she was his precious little sister. He couldn't harm her even if he wanted to. Nor could she harm him. She grinned her trademark mischievous grin before holding up five fingers. "I got five customers. You need to step it up a bit brother dear."

Jessie nodded. She knew that it wasn't always safe for her at night. But they both knew that she would not get as many customers if he was always hanging around her. She had only been so unfortunate as to be beaten and raped only once. She knew the rules. "Yes. I'm not a child anymore. I know what to do."

The smile faded from the girl's face as another man walked up to them. He was not one of the usuals. He also didn't seem like the type who needed a prostitute. Jessie had some dangerous looking customers before but none of them had anything on this man. He gave her chills just by looking at him. She had no idea what was going on. She stepped out in front of John. "Anything you can say to my brother, you can say to me. Who are you?" She tried to say this confidently but she wasn't sure that she succeeded.

"Anything you can say to my brother, you can say to me. Who are you?"

With a raised brow Owain looked down from John's face toward the voice. Before him stood a beautiful slip of a girl, her deep amber eyes dilated in the dim moonlight and only more embellished by her long dark hair. She had stepped before her kin; her pretty face a mask of intrigue tinged with uncertainty.

His grey eyes flitted approvingly across her form. Perhaps lingering slightly longer on more inappropriate sections of her anatomy than courtesy would recommend. A smile played slightly at his handsome face. The unique and appealing bone structure of his face almost glowing in the dim lunar light.

"Well I was unaware John had such an intimidating bodyguard," he chortled slyly. "I am Owain, personal Valet of Lady Katherine Lawley. I am certain that many of your brother’s clients are rather loose tongued and say....regrettable things during and after his services. I was hoping to interest him in payment if he is made aware of anything that would be of a useful nature or my lady." His voice was calm and friendly; he did not normally speak to the lower classes so openly. Something about this lass though......he blinked a few times. Something about her presence; it made him want to speak with her. "How odd" he thought, "I must be losing my touch from easy living."

A slightly concerned look crossed his face at these thoughts but be continued to speak. "I ahh....I extend that offer to you as well. If you hear anything that might be of use to mlady come to the kitchens at the castle and inform them that you seek me." Why had he said that? Why was he speaking to this waif at all? A look of confusion intermixed with worry marred his features. He nodded slightly and quickly stepped away toward a side street leading to the castle.

After about six steps he found himself forced to stop. A question screaming in his head that could not go unanswered; he turned toward the pair again. He couldn’t believe he was doing this but was unable to stop. The amazement on his face at his own actions was shrouded by the long shadow of a townhouse. "What is your name?" he asked hoarsely.

The night grew darker when a cloud covered the moon. It was a small, gray cloud that wouldn't have been able to cover the sun if it was daytime. But the moon was less big and less bright. The cloud covered it easily. Jessie hardly noticed the change in light. She was too busy focusing on the man in front of her. Her warm, amber eyes stared back into the man's cold, gray ones.

Jessie was not stupid. And she was not a child either. She had as much brains as John did. Maybe even more. One could say that she was the brains of their operation. But she was still a woman. And even though the way Owain looked at her creeped her out, she sort of liked it. His gaze made her feel even more beautiful than she knew she was. But she still didn't trust him.

Her eyes narrowed. So he wanted them to be stool pigeons did he? Jessie kind of liked that idea. All three of them knew how drunk most of their customers knew. She remembered all of the secrets she had heard in the middle of the night. It was so easy to coax information out of them. Which was what they used to blackmail them. Everyone these days had been with a prostitute but only some of them had secrets that would ruin them.

She noticed that he looked stunned. Why? Was he telling her something that she shouldn't know? Was he doing something he shouldn't be doing? For some reason, she longed to know more about him. She found herself mirroring his surprise. She masked it quickly with a look of thoughtfulness. She would take the deal. He came from Lady Katherine which meant that whatever he was offering paid very well.

"My name is Lucy." she lied to him without hesitation. Just because she was working with him, didn't mean she had to trust him. "I speak for myself when I say this but I will take your deal. I'll let my brother speak for himself."

"My name is Lucy." The words flew too quickly from her mouth to be genuine. “A trained response,” he thought “I will have to ask around another day for the truth.” His eyes found their way once again to John, who had simply stared at him this entire time with a blank, unreadable gaze. Owain was in no way surprised at John’s lack of response, not everyone was willing to be a spy for the nobility. What had surprised him was the lass…surprised him to the core.

He chose not to speak a word in recognition to her statement; instead turning he began to walk once again toward the dark side street. The shadows of the night enveloped him as he passed down the cobbled lane. A thousand thoughts and emotions spinning his mind into a frenzy. “What was that?!” his brain screamed, “What happened?? Why did that that whore make me feel so….” He suddenly stopped in his tracks. His halt so sudden and fierce an elderly woman passing him on the narrow street shrieked and shuffled away; assuming the sound was him lunging for her throat. Amusingly, had he not been so enraptured by the frenzy in his mind, he very well may have.

“Feel!.....feel?.....FEEL!!!” His mind raged. “I have not lived to be overtaken by the weakness of f****** emotions!!” He trembled angrily as he screamed in his head. “F*** that!! If anything in this life has shown me it is those who feel are soon dead…or whores like that little bitch!!” His thoughts summoning her face to his mind. Her large ebony eyes sparkling with moonlight at she gazed up to him. “NO!” he fought the rush of emotions that attempted to battle their way to his hardened heart. “No! No! NO!!”

Burning anger coursed through him as he began to move forward once again. His stomping feet thudded loudly on the stones. “No little whore will cause me to become a trampling mat for others!” he thought, “No little whore will make me….make me like my mother!......Weak and incapable of resistance!! I am STRONG!” He was openly trembling now. “I am feared!! I am…in control!!” his pace increased as his shoes thudded on the cold stone ground. The dark shadows of the night heightened as a cloud passed over the dim light of the moon.

Harold Tillman the baker’s son ambled jollily along the narrow street. The young lad was tossing a small coin in the air absently and humming softly to himself. “I hope father lets me keep this coin,” he thought. “I could buy a new hat with it….or one of the small wooden horses I saw today at the market!” He danced as he thought of owning one of those wooden horses, he friends would be so jealous. A grin spread across his happy face at that thought just as pounding footsteps began to echo along the corridor behind him. He turned to see who it was but froze in step when he saw Owain’s face. A mask of fury that was truly horrifying in the shadows of the night.

Blinded by fury and frustration Owain attacked. His fist flew through the air and slammed into the boy’s face. The sound of snapping cartilage accompanying the small squeak the lad was able to let out before reacting to the searing pain and slipping into unconsciousness. His nose was crushed by Owain’s first swing.

The boy collapsed; his body tumbling limply to the cobbled street. His face was a bloody mess, a fact only to become more severe as Owain continued to rain down blows onto the broken form. The grating of his clenched teeth became a song to his ears as he rained down blow after blow. The slamming of his fist releasing the pent up emotions the only way he knew how. Not stopping his assault until his fist felt the bone give way; the face of the lifeless form below him was a mass of blood and gore.

Staggering away from the practially dead child; Owain made his way slowly back to the castle. “See….I am not weak,” he thought to himself. The sickness in his stomach beyond retching he simply tightened his jaw. “They all will see…..I am not weak.” His walk evened out and he straightened his back. Wiping his hand off on a rag he spotted on the ground he stepped calmly toward the gates of his home.