Sweet Revenge

                                                                    

The noon had receded, the dusk had arrived

Commotions had died out, the whispers survived

The dust storms had risen, how arid the air

The rains were awaited in many a prayer

That morning it was, when I’d entered the town

In a coat that was black, on a horse that was brown

To them I was a stranger, to me they were strange

The town had been sleepy, but something had changed

The gust of the winds, the flight of the birds

The flaring of rumours, the cautious words

A tension was born and the silence was broken

Few doubts, few questions, spoken yet unspoken

The scathing weather, my parched dry throat

Compelled me to shed off my thick overcoat

My eyes searched in earnest for a solitary inn

To quench the fiery thirst that burned but within

I entered the inn, I searched for a seat

A single remained, the last of the fleet

I strode to the chair, I spoke out aloud

“Where two makes a company, will three make a crowd?”

“Certainly not, do join us, dear Sir.”

Invited the men, for drinks on the spur

I ordered a treble, I gulped down my drink

I spoke out too fast before I could think

“I may be mistaken, but I may just be right

Why is the town in such a great fright?”

“Dear me, didn’t you hear what happened this noon?

In a town like this, news travels so soon”

“I didn’t dear sir, I’m a stranger by name

People may differ, but curiosity’s the same.”

“The Sheriff who lives in the heart of this town

On the hill that stands solo, near the brook that flows down

The one who drinks too much, the one whom we dread

Was found dead this afternoon, shot in the head”

“A murder in town!! What a rotten disaster!

Who is the killer? My curiosity grows faster.”

They glanced at each other, looked carelessly about

And said they were not sure, but they had their own doubts

One of them spoke with a meaningful look

“I think it’s his wife while he bets it’s the cook”

His friend interrupted in a whispered little voice

“I hate this suspect game, but we have no choice

The cook had her motives, she wanted his gold

His wife was asleep with a frightful old cold”

I solemnly asked in a tone that was low

“Did your Sheriff know anyone he considered a foe?”

The men rolled their eyes, and sipped at their gin

“The list is so long, where do we begin?”

“The Sheriff of south was a rival for life

With the mayor of north, he had a great strife

The merchant who sold him the silk from the east

Loathed him completely to say the very least

The bard, his butler, so many undercover

Among them was even his wife’s long lover!

I said,“Well, these enmities seem so very old.”

They said, “Revenge is a dish which is best served cold.”

I played with my glass while they played with their words

One said quite unsurely, “Well, tis something I heard”

Whispering softly, he told us, “In fact

The murderer left the house wealth intact!”

“The only thing missing is an ancient old cent

With their family crest bearing noble descent

I heard that his milkman and the baker downstreet

Had plotted against him, their plan was discreet.”

His friend interrupted, “That’s not true for sure

The baker’s my cousin, innocent I assure.”

I looked at the window and exclaimed aloud

“The night sky is clear, no trace of a cloud!

My home route is cluttered with many a thieve

So Gentlemen excuse me, I must take your leave.”

“Pleasure to have you” they went on to say

We’ll pay for the drinks, you be on your way.”

I smiled and said “Thank you, my wealth’s at a brink

But I still have enough to afford a drink.”

I put down my share, I bid them adieu

And walked out to start my journey anew

I pondered over the words the man had just told

“Revenge is a dish which is best served cold.”

The older the tale, the longer it lives

The deeper the wound, the more pain it gives

The older the revenge, the sweeter the taste

The deeper the thirst, the greater the haste

Revenge hits hard when it hits in disguise

To watch the light flash out from the Sheriff’s eyes

Back in the inn, the men thus resumed

Dividing their shares for drinks they consumed

They stared at the coin the stranger had shared

A cent with a family crest on the head.