[Graham King]

Thanks, John! I had fun with the names.
Those for the next piece (my fourth and last submitted before deadline) exercised me more. I felt I had to leave the victim unnamed, as the nickname we now know him by.. is of our own generation's devising. To call him by it would be anachronistic and give the game away, whereas to call him something else could be distracting.

(Hmm. Should I have used 'plaits' instead of 'braids'? ...Ladies?)


Karela’s braids whip in alpine afternoon chill. Fists knot: “Late. Late. Late.”
Justiciar Erdeweise leans close also; over the fur-clad, tattooed shepherd damp with melt-water, soon to refreeze: “Yes… days past. Don’t fret; you couldn’t have done more. Kinfolk?”
“He’s none known. He settled from the northeast, ten years ago...” She shakes, not merely cold: “Murderers.”
“I’m… uncertain of that…” Erdeweise raises one palm, quelling protest: “I know: ‘kindly; respectable herder; quiet’. But… some secret bloodguilt, long borne? Those strangers, spotted trailing him, maybe wrought fair vengeance.”
“Arrow to his shoulder? While fevered? No honourable challenge!”
“He’d made for the pass; seemingly, knew himself pursued. Fleeing- why?”
“Ach! ...Must we leave him, so?”
“There’s not time before dusk. Tomorrow…”
But suddenly Karela knows: this high cold sleep will endure far longer…
“Whoever next sees him… slain, alone, here… will they think us savages?”