Interruptions it seems are frequent, this time it was sleep which befell me at my desk. My page ruined. Putting a halt to my meanderings. I have learned when the knock upon my door awoke me that there is another applicant for the post of my bookkeeper. I figured I may as well start a new page.
I am so very tired after the events which transpired both that night, and last night and the surprisingly merry and near interrogation free meeting with the Captain's daughter and the Dalesman at my home. Finally coming to an agreement over the celebration which I am to host. Bar one or two tense moments. I managed to barely discuss either the Ranger's woman or my childhood friend. Indeed, there was much laughter and merriment.
I woke in a strange bed yesterday morn. I seem to remember following the rum there being lots of brandy At least, it was not my bed nor my brandy. It seems that in my stupour I fell into a spider's web. Tempted with honey by a black widow seeking to devour every smidgeon of sense left in you as it has done in the past.
That is a very unkind metaphor for my childhood friend. But she is not the black widow I speak of. The black widow is an agent of the fates sent to weave me into a cocoon. It is metaphysical. It makes you feel warm and it certainly makes you feel safe and then it sinks it's very fangs into your beating heart. Drains it, not satisfied until it has sucked the very life from you as well as any happiness. Leaving a broken vessel quite empty.
We talked for an age. Our tryst in the late watches discovered by that simpering nursemaid with her child. Whelped upon her by the guardsman that had done so much to attempt to sully my friendship with the woman she saw, joined to me quite literally and not figuratively at the hip. I believe I laughed, and I laughed loudly. For I could summon no other response. Caught red-handed. My guardsmen and indeed my Innkeeper and waitresses have been discreet about my seeing of this woman but no doubt word will spread throughout the village that what was merely rumour is reality. The nursemaid is as keen a gossip as any.
I do not know what to say. There is little I can say. I think I managed to avoid any discussion of why I had left for distant lands and we resolved any misconceptions over the whole guard business.
I will simply say that I got up that morning. Left, spent most of my day working until the meeting I mentioned. It seems my knocking upon that door and my tryst has not yet reached the ear of either of my friends. That discussion is postponed for now. Truly the Dalesman was of great help in that.
I managed sleep, though not enough being as I fell asleep at my desk today.
It seems to me I have a brothel to visit in the town. Oddly enough on business.
Damn these books, damn this quill and inkpot. I am sick of the sight of paper and ink.
