Adventures (with 8 Ball influence)

(Deciding our fate by use of the Magic 8 Ball.)

Daubigny strolled down the path and cautiously looked out the gate. It was full day, and he thought he might go exploring and see something of the village. Or should he stay and wander the grounds? He looked behind and spotted a familiar face. "Hello, Chevenier. Would you care to walk into the village with me?"

Chevenier smiled as Daubigny walked up to him, and waved slightly at his friend. It was a nice day, indeed, but Chevenier was rather enjoying the sun in the castle gardens.

"No, I think not," he replied. "However, if you would like to explore more around the castle, you would find me a willing companion."

Hmm. It was a beautiful day, but Daubigny's mind was clouded with indecision and apathy. "What do you recommend?" he asked.

Chevenier tapped a finger against his lips lightly, contemplating. Several ideas crossed his mind, and he rejected each. Then, he smiled as one seemed right.

"Have you seen the stables yet? I have heard that they are quite pleasant." He gestured for Daubigny to precede him with a slight bow. "We shall see if they have any horses worth looking at."

"Stables? No, I didn't know there were any stables. Though who would keep horses there now? Unless perhaps the keeper - or villagers who don't have a place of their own." There was no reason to waste perfectly good stables, after all. And as they approached the stable building, he could indeed hear horses within. "Do the prisoners ever have a chance to ride?" he asked. Not that he himself was much of a horseman at all.

"I do not believe so," Chevenier replied. He made a dismissive gesture with one hand. "They think that we will use the horses to escape, I think. Or, at the very least, we would go past the boundaries of our captivity."

He let out a sigh, thinking of his cavalry days - now behind him until the end of the war. "I do miss being upon a horse."

Turning to his companion as they walked, he grinned. "What do you think - should we try to convince the stable master to let us ride anyway?"

Daubigny's grumbling stomach told him that he would much rather eat one of the beasts. "No, I think not. To tell the truth, I have been at sea since my youth, and I never had much opportunity to improve my horsemanship." He pulled open the door and immediately sneezed at the dust from the hay. Apart from the whickering horses in their stalls, he thought he heard a noise. "Is someone else here?" he asked.

Chevenier cocked his head slightly to listen, but the only sounds were the whickering and shuffling of horses, and the creaking of old boards. He shook his head. "I do not hear anyone else at the moment."

He moved further into the stables, smiling wistfully at the horses. "It seems a shame to be here when we cannot ride. Shall we find something else to occupy our time?"

"I'd like to look around in here," Daubigny said, tentatively stroking the nose of one of the animals. "Perhaps there are useful... tools, or things." Though if there ever had been, it was more than likely someone had pilfered them already. He and Chevenier were surely not the first prisoners to visit the stables. Then he laughed. "I'm surprised there's not a guard to stop us from tearing up the stalls for firewood. This place is freezing. Any chance of warming up somehow? I'll bet sleeping in here with the horses would be warmer than that drafty hall with its enormous high ceilings."

"It likely would not be that hard to warm the stables," Chevenier said thoughtfully, looking around. "Perhaps with the doors closed and all the horses stabled..."

He grinned, struck by Daubigny's suggestion. "The straw would also likely be softer than those wooden slats." He laughed. "We could try it, no?"

A stable. How quaint. Blanchard stared at the weather-worn structure and longed to go inside. It was rather breezy that day, but something told him it was wiser to stay outside and shiver.

"Is there something terribly fascinating in there?" He called. "A distillery, perhaps?"

Daubigny stared at Chevenier. "I didn't actually mean we should sleep here." Was the man serious? "And anyway, wouldn't we get in trouble? And the smell..." But he did not want to appear reluctant or even cowardly. "Though I suppose it's not much different than the smells of men aboard a ship, ha ha! Particularly in the doldrums." The horse gave him an impatient snort and he stepped back hastily.

Then he heard the man's voice outside. "Blanchard, is that you?" he called. "Come in. We're going to sleep in the stable, ha ha!"

Chevenier laughed again at the dumbfounded expression on his companion's face. "Do not worry, my friend, I do not mean it seriously."

He turned to the door as well. "Indeed, Blanchard, you may test its comfort for us!" He called teasingly.

That hardly answered his question.

"Are you hoarding all the wine for yourselves?" Blanchard paced restlessly. His curiosity was piqued but still he dared not go too near the stable.

"Haven't seen any wine," Daubigny called. "Why don't you come in?"

"No," Blanchard replied, feeling sheepish. "No, I rather like the breeze out here."

Chevenier leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. "Afraid to come in the barn, Blanchard?" he asked with a smirk.

He looked out into the sunshine, taking in the mild weather, and nodded slightly. "The breeze is quite fine," he said. "Perhaps you had another suggestion for the day?"

Daubigny came to the door. The fresh air was indeed a relief from the smell of the horses.

"Blanchard," exclaimed Leveque, strolling up from the direction of the village, "what brings you to the stables?"

"I don't... know," Blanchard confessed. "I can hardly say why I am here at all."

"Hello, Leveque!" Chevenier called. "Blanchard thought there might be wine in the stable, but he refuses to come in. Perhaps you can persuade him."

"Chevenier!" Leveque waved a greeting to the other man, then turned to Blanchard, "Wine in the stables, you say?" He chuckled, "Perhaps that is why Jarreau is so often down here. All this time I thought it was because he was fond of the beasts. Shall we go in and see if you are right?"

He stared at Leveque. "You may, certainly. I will remain here. It does not smell so foul."

"Come, sir," he protested, "Will you stand out here alone, prophesying some secret cache of spirits while the rest of us profit by it?" Leveque took Blanchard's arm and tugged him gently, but firmly in the direction of the barn.

"Well I didn't see any wine," Daubigny said, stepping out of the stable and into the sun. "I suppose one must go to the village for that?"