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“So do you think your dad will finally accept my offer to buy your hand in marriage?” a young man of twenty years asked. He had the touches of sun weathered skin and the strong promise of a man to come into the fine trade of shoeing horses or hewing trees.

“Do you really think a silk merchant is going to accept 10,000 Silver Crowns and your fathers best Roan Stallion as a dowry for his only daughter? You may as well have asked a silkworm to spin gold from its sacks.” A young lady just cresting into womanhood, nineteen years in the luxury of all things given, walked by the rugged companion; where he had stoutness she promised elegance and grace that diplomats begged for.

Her brown eyes gazed up at his greys and she smiled softly. “Aaron, you would do better with the Cobbler’s daughter, Gelda than you would be lurking about my father’s properties. You and I are of two different worlds.”

Aaron’s face took on a bitter grimace as he took her hand; one rough by honest work, the other soft by dalliance. “Freya, you know better than to spew these words. When have the value of things and the standing of our birthrights stood in the way of the love we’ve felt? I don’t recall thinking how much the red Dournish Silk dress was worth and how much value was lost by the young maiden wearing it that chose to sit in the dewy grass one night.”

Freya let fall a tug of smile and a glimpse of white teeth in the evening shadows as they walked for the Market District. “You remember the Dournish Silk dress and not that dreadful stench that I was sitting in? If I hadn’t have slipped and sat in something foul from a horse then I’d be with a much finer guy.” She gave him a cool measured stare; her raven black hair shimmered from the lilac oil combed into it making errant strands to coil over her ear right cheek of a fine cream peach.

“I really doubt a finer guy would appreciate the scent of a good road apple much less help a woman that landed in one. And of course I remembered the dress. I’ve only seen one of them in my life time. Dournish Silk is a king’s ransom to buy. You were very appreciative of my help and gave me that kiss.” Aaron said.

Freya laughed. “Kiss? You ogre, I had slipped when you helped me up on more of the road apple as you call it. Just my lips brushing your cheeks, why else would a girl of my gentle upbringing participate in such an act with a young man dressed in smelly leathers and half of a barn.”

“Oh really? So the first kiss was a slip in road apple? Was the second one a slip two? The third? What of the nights we’ve stolen out together to the festivals, the boat rides in the Glen. Beltane last year?” He asked with a triumphant smile.

Freya gave his left arm a mild slap of indignant annoyance and smirked. “Very well, stable boy, you have caught me in my lies. I do love you, but my father does not.”

“Who cares about what your father loves? If he won’t accept a very reasonable offer from an honest man, then why not leave tonight? Be away the both of us and seek out life in the outer territories and cities. There are many to choose from.” Aaron said.

Freya gave Aaron an incredulous stare as if thinking him a bit mad to challenge her father in such a way but the nature and suddenness of it was appealing. Her chance to speak was robbed as several large men in heavy leather armor emerged from one of the many alleyways that dotted the main streets of Lorence.

“Aye, boy, you may want to reconsider your words and actions with this little tart. Seems dear ol’ daddy has deep pockets.” The words came from a man emerging from the alleyways and he was not alone. He was in heavy leather armor like his other four companions, all stained black with a simple rusty steel ring with five arrows arrayed around the outer edge set into the chest panel of the cuirass.

Aaron turned to face the men, a strong hand snaking out to grab hold of Freya and guided her behind him. “Brotherhood of the Five, so you are hired thugs now for her father?” he asked the man.

The lead man shrugged his large shoulders and unlatched a large, heavy wooden club from his black leather belt. “The Brotherhood is on hard times, Aaron Bay. Lots of white knights in this city are doing good for the people, lots of black knights in the city doing bad for the people and then there are us guilds that just want to do our jobs, make a living and be happy and wealthy. It’s nothing personal Aaron, it’s just business and you happen to be our business now.”

Aaron clenched his jaw and backed up some keeping Freya shielded. “Freya, get out of here and get back to your father. I’ll handle these guys and come see you again.”

“Oh wrong again, boy.” The man said.

Raising a hand his four companions quickly fanned out to cut off their escape. Citizens smartly avoided the blocked streets, went into shops, stayed in their homes or curiously watched from a distance with a drink or two at hand.

“You see, Tarence Hawkren, hired me and my boys to teach you a lesson, one that may just kill you Aaron, but he didn’t mention how nice and young his daughter Freya was and the value of Silver Crowns just isn’t what is used to be. The price he paid us will only go so far split between five. He made no stipulations on leaving you alive or any mention about his daughter or what to do if we find her in your company. So, how about you cooperate nice and easy and as a sworn Brother of the Five, Sir Hesnon will make your lesson quick, painless and we’ll get to know the tart for the night.” Hesnon said.

Freya trembled hearing the man and trembled more hearing that her father was the one that had moved his hand to this wheel of fate. Aaron hadn’t budged and he was eyeing the other four who had all armed themselves with the heavy wooden clubs like Sir Hesnon. There wasn’t going to be a quick death, the men were a cruel sort that wanted to draw out the pain and suffering. His hand moved to the small dagger he wore for trimming horse hooves and cleaning them out. Little in the way of defense but he would try. Freya stood frozen behind him unsure what to do, violence was not her way, was not a concept or thought in her daily life much less the implications the men had for her should Aaron fall.

Sir Hesnon sneered slightly seeing Arron draw his tiny blade. “Fine. You want a hard lesson then. Alright lads, we mess him up good. The girl stays put. Knock her good on the head if she runs, she’s not missing the fun tonight.”

Aaron held his dagger ready. “You want her; you have to go through me.”

The men all laughed and then they attacked. Sir Hesnon and a man on either side of him came in at Aaron at once. Freya watched in horror as Aaron attempted to fight, something the stable boy had never done before and watched the seasoned men break his arms with ease, disarming him of the knife, then raining blows on his body, like a cruel storm of hard wood and splinters. She began to sob and scream, her screams mingling with Aarons in the streets, as many of the watching vanished, and the Silver Crowns of Tarence Hawkren spoke loudly to leave the Brotherhood of the Five to their task. The two not beating Aaron forcefully grabbed Freya and drug her off to the alley forcing more screams of help from her.

No one was helping either of them and she feared this was it. Aaron would be dead, she would be defiled and her father would not want her at all as a daughter. She’d be cast out to beg for the rest of her life. She begged the men to let her go and was rewarded with a hard strike against the face to quiet her. She could still hear Aaron crying and sobbing as the men took their time drawing out the young man’s demise. She didn’t want to lose him. She didn’t want to lose herself. She felt a cold blade starting to cut away fabric from her shoulder and she closed her eyes.

“Please, someone, anyone, help. Help me please. Help us please. Anyone out there, please help us.” She prayed in failing hope.

Thunder cracked the skies, rumbling the air and lighting lit the evening for a moment. Freya felt the cold blade vanish for a moment. She opened her eyes as the men looked up to the skies to gaze at the heavy looking storm about to unleash rain. Another flash of lightning and fat, hard drops of rain fell down upon them all. Then they heard blood curdling screams from the street. It wasn’t Aaron’s weakening cries of death but the sounds of grown men dying and drowning in something wet and thick.

One of her captors left them and headed for the street only to fall down hard upon his back, the sight of a soggy, white mass of fur and golden eyes atop his chest. The wet dog easily darted its German shepherd like head towards the man’s face and before he could scream, gurgles came as the dog’s head came way slicked in beaded blood. It leaped off of the man’s flopping body and charged for Freya’s lone captor who was now standing. He brought his wicked club to bear and she heard the dog yelp and crumple to the ground from a solid hit to its head. It lay in a wet heap, blood pouring from its broken skull and Freya felt what little hope the oddness and terror the beast brought drain in the rain.

The man seemed fairly rattled and moved past the dead dog to check his fallen comrade that lay still now. He saw that his friend would not rise again with a throat torn out and he wheeled intent on beating the dog’s corpse to a pulp before stealing the girl for himself. He was not ready to face the dog alive, on all fours, blood welling from its head as the wound began to close quickly. His hesitation cost him his life as he joined his friend on the rain soaked alley floor, drowning in his own blood. The dog remained standing on the dying mans chest until his last gurgled breath left and then it looked at Freya. It gave a pained wuffle and leaped off of the dead man and left the alley.

Freya was unsure what to make of what had happened. One moment she was being taken and close to being abused and soiled, the next, she was freed by a feral dog in the rain? She gathered her wits after a few minutes of rain soaked shock and made her way out of the alley keeping from the dead bodies of her two captors. She saw the white dog pulling and scrabbling to pull Sir Hesnon’s lifeless body off of Aaron. She forgot about the dog, forgot about the violence she’d just witnessed and ran to her battered and broken lover. He cried as she cradled his broken body, his face puffed, swollen and bloody. She wept in the rain at the loss of someone she loved because he was viewed not wealthy enough for her.

Wet paws were heard approaching her then nothing. She looked up from the struggled breaths of Aaron to see the drenched, scrawny dog looking her, its muzzle stained faint pink from the fight. Golden eyes that sparkled like coins in a wishing well looked into her brown eyes a long moment. A soul gaze it felt before the beast bowed its head to look at Aaron. It wuffled once more and Freya watched two shimmering tears roll from the beasts eyes like two drops of golden sunlight. They splashed upon Aaron’s blood and rain soaked face causing the young man to gasp and open his eyes. Before Freya, Aaron’s body was mended, restored in seconds as if he’d not been beaten within an inch of his life.

She cried again in joy and hugged Aaron close, much to his dazed confusion at being near deaths door and now in the embrace of his dear Freya. When Aaron was able to get Freya to release him to breath he looked about at the carnage on the street.

“What happened?” Aaron asked her.

Freya shook her head in slow confusion. The wet dog was nowhere to be seen on the rain soaked street. “A very odd miracle. A wet, white dog just saved us and healed you.”

Aaron just stared at Freya and the words she said but having being beaten severely then being whole and restored in a span of minutes made him hold his tongue. He stared at the three dead men on the streets, the rain quietly dredging away the blood into the canals keeping the thoroughfare clean; a miracle that they had lived at all tonight.

“If it was a real miracle then it would’ve done more than just kill . . .” he paused as his hand brushed a damp, large cloth pouch dropped by his side.

He looked down drew up the pouch. With rain numbed fingers, Aaron opened the pouch and gazed inside. He looked to Freya in disbelief and showed her the contents as well. She gasped and looked to him. Within was nearly enough wealth to buy a merchant ship and a villa of their own. They both hugged in the rain and shared a true kiss, naked with passion and defiant to the walls of class. As morning dawned, a merchant ship set sail from the harbor to a sea town across the ocean on a new venture to set up silk trades with nomads. Upon that ship was Freya Hawkren and her fiancé Aaron Bay, sailing upon freedom bought by a mysterious miracle in the rain.

At the end of the dock, nestled among a coil of rope was a scruffy white dog. It peaked over the lip of its rope nest at the departing boat and gave a panting smile and a doggish loll of a tongue. It ears wiggled before the white dog rolled and went back to sleep.