A Lesson for the Cyclops

Chapter 6

Conchinara was with the man by the time the freaks arrived. As the Cyclops entered the tent, Conchinara was laughing gaily at something he had said.

“Oh,” she said, fanning herself with a feathered hand-fan, “I must remember to be careful around you. You have a wicked tongue, sir.”

He sat on the cot in which he had slept the last three days. His skin was still pale, but the redness around his eyes had gone, and he seemed to be in fine spirits. Too  fine, actually, judging from the way he looked at Conchinara.

“My lady,” the man said with a lascivious smile that made the Cyclops’s heart ache, “I can assure you that my tongue is the least wicked part of my body. I know; I’ve looked. Twice.”

Conchinara laughed again, her voice every bit as musical as the Cyclops’s wasn’t. Her dark eyelashes fluttered coquettishly. She leaned toward him conspiratorially, revealing an expanse of perfect olive skin and a deep, inviting cleavage. The Cyclops did not want to be in the same tent with such beauty. She was hideous enough on her own, but when compared to Conchinara …?

“But perhaps you’d prefer to check for yourself,” D’Arbignal said to Conchinara with a wink. “Just to be sure, you know.”

“The gentleman mocks me!” Conchinara said, placing a slender hand upon his.

“Mock you?” he said. “Never. Tease you, perhaps, but I’d never mock a lady as beautiful as—ah, company!”

He smiled broadly and waved his hand in a theatric gesture of welcome.

“Come in, come in!” he said. “The sun is blistering out there. Come into the shade!”

Conchinara did not look pleased at the intrusion, but they were just the oddities. She must know they were no real threat to her.

“Hoow … how are you feeling?” Pahula said, her eyes lowered and demure.

“Never better!” the man said. He tested his shoulder by swinging his arm and winced. “Well, rarely  better, anyway.”

His audience laughed at his jest. He had the natural charm of an entertainer; it was obvious he was in the trade. An acrobat? Thespian? Some kind of showman, in any case.

Conchinara squeezed his hand. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better. I was very worried about you.”

“Fear not,” he said, grinning. “It’ll take more than that to get me to quit this world!”

“How did you get your wound?” one of the midget twins said.

A roguish sparkle shone in his eyes. “Why, in a duel, of course!”

“A duel?” the Cyclops said, incredulous. “With arrows? And you were hit in the back!”

“I didn’t say it was a fair  duel,” he said, and again, his audience laughed. “But I’ve been remiss. We haven’t been introduced.”

He performed a little bow and flourish from his cot. “I am D’Arbignal: sailor, singer, a fair dancer and a terrible poet, an occasional philosopher and an itinerant adventurer. I am also the greatest swordsman in the world! And you, my lady?”

The Cyclops blinked in astonishment. His words bounced around her head, and she tried to take it all in.

“Me?” the Cyclops said. “My … uh … my name is Maria.”

“It is a great pleasure meeting you, Maria,” D’Arbignal said.

One of the midget twins whispered to the other: “Did you know that her name was Maria?”

“But speaking of swords,” D’Arbignal said, returning his attention to Conchinara. “I recall stumbling into camp crazier than a 400-year-old mage who’d summon a demon to protect his village. I remember swinging my rapier at people, and that they were brave enough to take it from me. I thank you for that, and if it’s not too much trouble, ask that you reunite us.”

Conchinara flashed a guilty expression at the Cyclops.

“Um,” Conchinara said.

All present were staring at the Cyclops. She wished she could vanish into the ground.

Instead, she said, “I did that. I held your sword for you.”

D’Arbignal grinned and his eyes sparkled. “Did you now?”

Only then did the Cyclops realize the unintended double entendre’.

“Not like that!” she said, her face warm.

“Fool,” Conchinara muttered. “Of course  it wasn’t like that.”

All the people looking at her made the Cyclops uncomfortable in a way being in the Freak Show never had. “I’ll … uh … I’ll go get it for you. And your bag, too.”

The Cyclops fled the tent. As she ran across the grounds, she fervently hoped D’Arbignal would not repeat that bit about being the “greatest swordsman in the world” within earshot of Alfredo.