The Innkeeper

          I shift uneasily on my straw-filled cot and squint as the morning light hit my

eyes. The tiny window is my only connection to the world allowing me to see the

passings happening on the sidewalk. The bare feet of the petty commoners stride

past me. With every step they remind me of how far I’ve fallen, so far that I have

resorted to living beneath them, under their feet in a jail-cell. The satin-shoed fools

stepping daintily across the sidewalk as if they owned it used to stare and jeer at

me, but they quickly stopped when my eyes met theirs. Serfs in ridiculous garb that

do their owners proud walk in groups of four carrying a litter for some dainty lady or

prestigious official. Bare feet, leather shoes, and crude rags prance by my window

dragging oxen and horses behind them. Even though I am less than a foot away from

the masses, their world is beyond the window while mine is here.

          Soon the priest will arrive eager to give a hopeless criminal the last

sacrament of reconciliation and save me from my fate with the damned. But I see

into the priest’s eyes; I am damned to rot in hell for all eternity. They say a pitiful

criminal, no murderer, like me has no place in heaven with the faithful. But still they

want me to repent and bow my head before God. That’s why they persist in torturing

me. They hope to beat forgiveness out of me, but they try in vain.

          I groan slightly as I roll to my side and stand carefully on my feet. I bear the

pain from the scars and bruises from their beatings but I will never give them the

satisfaction of breaking me. Pain is a friend to the damned and I gratefully accept it.

I have been cursed my whole life, ever since my first kill. Throughout my whole

career I have completed each assignment given to me, killed those I was ordered to

and sometimes more just for fun. Some may call me sadistic, but I believe I am

misunderstood. But at the height of my zeal I failed to dominate over the death of a

simple man, an innkeeper. It is he that consumes my thoughts and leaves me blind

with rage. But my failure was a lesson and I will force myself to replay it over and

over again, until the day I die.

         Thirteen years ago my career was at its climax. I worked for the upper class as

an exclusive assassin, killing here and there. My gifts fetched a high price, high

enough to live like a prince. Around mid-summer I received a dispatch containing a

simple and straightforward assignment. As high-priced as my work was my patrons

retained a certain level of autonomy and therefore I was kept in the dark about the

specific details concerning my mission. I was simply to murder a band of people at a

roadside inn.

          The road I traveled was well paved with stone and my stallion made the trip

easily. As he trotted down the path I looked around at the masses of the poor

flocking towards the city. Farmers came with wagons of vegetables to sell and

animals in tow while many peasants trudged along the road, their feet wrapped in

rags to protect them from the burning stone underneath. Their clothing was scant

allowing the sun to burn them to an unseemly color. These poor pathetic people

stayed out of my way knowing I would trample them if they came close.

          The sun rose in the sky and evidence of the drought torturing the country

became visible. Leafless trees lined the street and dead cows lay in the field. The

horses’ hooves kicked up dust and dirt impeding the vision and comfort of those

around, but the people didn’t see my sly grin hidden behind my black hood. The sun

had not only dried out the streams and lakes but the people’s hope as well. The

cities were becoming overcrowded with streams of peasants flocking in. Of course

the drought had also worsened the local protests. Groups of hungry people

wandered around raiding villages and small farms. Not only were the people getting

upset but the guards were fighting hard for order. Their tactics had become more

vicious and their ways brutal and harsh. Their questioning strategies were starting to

draw the attention of the lower half of the scale. But nobody questioned; they didn’t

want to be next. We had already had two peasant uprisings in the last year, fighting

for food. Hungry people disturbed the peace and rose against the Word. These

rebels had been quickly put down and destroyed. Unfortunately for the other

peasants they had been subject to raids and prejudice, hah.

          I continued my leisurely ride along the dusty road every once in a while

stopping to check over my horse. The same trees and dead grass repeated itself

over and over again. But up ahead it seemed that there was some type of village. But

what does it matter to me? Villages were for the common scum also called those

who walk with the dust. I had my generous supply of water and shelter as well as

everything I would need, so I spurred on my horse and started to trot by.
         
          The road passed right through the village square and up ahead I could see a

throng of people. As I neared the crowd began to disperse, the people gathering in

small numbers to gossip. Interested, I galloped closer and saw a wooden scaffold in

use. A dead man dangled from the rope; a dead man dressed in the rags of a

prisoner. The wind blew the corpse from one side to another and rattled the sign

tacked to the scaffold. The sign marked the man for his crime. Etched in the slate of

wood was the word murderer. A poor bloke got caught after a messy kill no doubt.

But I am not the common murderer and I do not get caught, I thought at the time.

Putting the scene behind me I spurred my horse down the road.

          My thoughts turned back to the mission. I would normally not accept an

assignment involving mass murder but this time the pay was high. Still part of me

wanted to toss the job away, how dare I accept such a low bred idea. The thought of

going into a common person’s inn and staying there absolutely repulsed me. I

prayed that this inn would be civilized. I didn’t fancy the thought of mingling with the

commoners. As I neared the inn the well paved road was replaced with a dirt path,

ill-kempt and overgrown with weeds. The sun was lowering in the sky but

nevertheless it still beat down on the dead grass and dying trees. As the sun left the

sky I saw a small light glowing in the distance. I neared the light and made out the

shape of a building, the inn.

          I tied my horse to the hitching post and entered the building. My black finely

trimmed cloak stood out against the common country garb of the people. The room

was full of simple peasants celebrating with a glass of ale after a hard days work. It

was a simply built inn, common but solid. Before I had a chance to observe more, a

jolly fat man came up to me with a smile on his face.
         
          I laid eyes on this man and disliked him immensely. He wiped his hands on

his spotless white apron and stared at my face trying to see past the hood of my

cloak. I lowered the hood of my cloak and started to remove it. He started to take

my black cloak in his grubby hands but I snatched it out of his hands. I muttered

gruffly that I would keep it with me. The innkeeper looked at me and quickly smiled,

whatever you say. He directed me slowly towards an empty table all the while

chatting incessantly. The filthy innkeeper must have thought that I was a lord or

something because of my cloak and hurriedly asked if I would like something to

drink.
         
          In a little while he came back bearing a glass of ale, filled to the top. After his

chubby hand lowered the glass onto the table he asked if he might be of service.

          “I don’t have time to waste. I’m looking for a particular inn to stay at, that was

recommended to me by a friend. If you know where it is, tell me and I will be off after

this glass of ale,” I answered short and curt, I hated this innkeeper already.

          “Why you have found the inn you are looking for, but I am very sorry, my lord

this inn is occupied and there is not a single room left,” he answered with a look of

distress on his face.

          “Surely you have more than enough rooms for these people,” I said while I

looked around. “I will take any room I get. Ask your other guests to share, but I must

have a room alone.” I flashed some gold coins and the innkeeper’s face lit up, what a

foolish idiot. While he took a moment to contemplate this proposal I looked at him

more intently. What a simple minded dope he was, with a good-hearted air. But then

I turned my attention back.

          “I’m very sorry. You can stay for a drink but then you must go. I don’t have

any room for you.”

          “I’ll take anything even the stable. Do you really want to throw me out in this

heat? Bad things might happen, and you will surely be held responsible.”

          The innkeeper looked around the room cautiously. He gazed at the window

where the rain was pouring down. He bent in closer and talked to me. “See the inn

was rented out for the night by that gentleman in the blue coat and he was most

insistent about not allowing guests. I cannot on my good conscience throw you out

into terrible heat with all the bandits there are so here is what I will do. You can have

my room for tonight but please, do not disturb my other guests. You can stay down

here in the common room until the men go into the dining room. From then on,

please, stay in my room for the night. In the morning take you horse and go. Don’t

worry about paying me; your safety is payment enough.”

          I listened to this innkeeper with shock. This stupid idiot had just given me all

the information I needed. How can one man be so unselfishly good to a man such as

me who barges into his inn? I knew at this point that I didn’t dislike this innkeeper I

hated him, hated him for being so good and kind, for being foolish and an idiot. I

hated every fiber in his body and wanted desperately to kill him myself. But I

accepted the idiot innkeeper’s conditions and settled back to drink my ale, making it

very clear the conversation was over.

          I took this opportunity to inspect the putrid inn I had found myself in. It was

soundly built, with walls made of wooden slabs and chink filling in the cracks for

insulation. The adornments were sparse and the tables were little more than blocks

of wood, but overall the inn made for a friendly atmosphere. I then turned to gaze at

my victims, the man dressed in the blue coat and his companions. They were

probably minor nobles, ambitious like the whole lot of them. But what crime they had

committed I did not know. It was not for me to question orders from higher up.

          However, at that moment the innkeeper caught my eye. Yes, the jolly, old, fat

innkeeper that everybody loves, everybody except me that is. An idea blossomed in

my mind. Why not kill the men and the innkeeper as an extra bonus. God knows I

deserve some fun every once in awhile. I drained the last of my ale and made my

way outside to take care of my horse.

          Outside I untied the reins of my horse and moved him to the stable. I found

that the stable had a door that connected directly into one of the private dining halls.

In fact the entire far end of the stable was back to back with the private dining room.

A plan was formulating in my mind. But first I must make sure that these are the

men I want. From my boot I extracted a knife and proceeded to drill a small eyehole

in the door adjoining the private dining room. When I had finished I had drilled a hole

large enough to see everything that went on inside. Carefully I replaced the knife in

my boot and nonchalantly proceeded inside the inn once more.
 
          Once upstairs I examined my room, or rather the innkeeper’s room, for any

clues about him. But nothing out of the ordinary was in his room. I had time to kill,

so I decided to inspect my weapons. From my boots I drew out three razor-sharp

knifes and from my bundle I brought out an array of hand-axes. I left the flint in my

bundle; I wouldn’t need it until later. Carefully I polished and sharpened my weapons

and then with a thud I hurled the daggers, one after the other, against the wooden

post of the door. They smashed into the wood and embedded themselves deep

within.

          The sun slowly left the sky and I heard all voices downstairs cease; they had

moved into the private dining room. Carefully I crept around upstairs. I barred all the

windows so nobody would be able to get out. I could feel the excitement building up

inside me. It was almost time! I climbed through the last window and barred it from

the outside. Cautiously as a cat I crept my way across the thatch room and down

onto the ground. I dropped the last six feet onto the ground and waited there,

carefully listening. Then I made my way to the stable.

          I pressed my ear against the door and heard the murmur of voices coming

through the cracks. Shifting silently I put my eye to the eyehole and gazed within.

Inside I could see into the room where the men were congregated in a small group.

That idiot innkeeper was scurrying around serving drinks and taking care of small

details.

          I stood silently and heard enough to confirm that these were the men I was

searching for. Inside my mind I went over my plan. Haha, I knew the way to cause

the death of half a dozen men. I wouldn’t slit their throats in the dark, which I loved

doing, or put poison in their food like a coward for I had only one night to

successfully complete this mission. But right as I was about to initiate my plan, I got

caught up in looking at the innkeeper. My eyes burned with hatred at the sight of

him. Every time he laughed my blood would boil and I fingered my knife nervously.

And then I remembered, it was only a matter of time until I finish him off, in fact I

would finish all of them off.

          I moved carefully outside and began examining the doors of the inn. The

doors would be easy to seal off and prevent anybody from escaping and the windows

I had already taken care of. Nobody would be escaping. The thatch roof would

spread the fire rapidly and nobody would have a chance to react, they were too busy

having a jolly good time. It was starting to get dark; I had to get to work. I carefully

sealed off the doors and I climbed back onto the roof to double-check my work on

the windows.

          From my place on the roof voices floated up and reached my ears. They

were the voices of children and the innkeeper. It appeared that the innkeeper lived in

the inn with his children two small children, one boy and one girl. They were praying,

stupid fools. If God existed then people like me wouldn’t exist. But unfortunately for

them I am very real and they, are soon dead. I paused for a moment and then

resumed work. Anyways, nobody in this life is innocent not even the children. Killing

them would be as easy as swatting a fly. I stayed up on the roof until the wretched

innkeeper turned the lights out and night had taken over.

          I lit the torch in my hand and quickly lowered it to the roof. Moving swiftly I

slid off the roof and stood in front of the inn. Up to this day I have never left before my

job is completely under way and anyways, I wanted to savor this moment. The

thatch caught quickly but sped up when it struck the oil I had spread on the roof.

          Within moments the top floor of the inn had burst into flames and the fire was

proceeding to the bottom floor. Shouts of fire came from the top floor and banging on

the windows ensued. Thanks to my expertise the windows and doors would not

move an inch and the victims were trapped inside. A burst of laughter escaped me

as I completed the job not only for my employer but for myself. The innkeeper was

being consumed by flames and his life was no more.

          They were as good as dead and I turned to mount my horse but glanced back

when I heard a noise. A frantic banging was coming from within the inn against the

front door. The door quivered and shook as a person pounded furiously against it. I

turned in amusement and then I saw the innkeeper come barging out of the door

carrying his little girl. He looked at me and begged for me to take care of her. At the

look of his helplessness I grabbed a knife from my boot and slowly started forward. I

would have to kill him myself. Before I knew it he had already gone. The idiot had

dashed back into the burning building in a desperate attempt to rescue his other

child. All I did was watch as the building crumbled around him. The innkeeper never

came out and the hate consumed me.

          My ingenious plot was ruined. The innkeeper was dead but not by my doing. I

stood there thinking while the building was collapsing in front of me. The small girl

was lying unconscious in front of me and I stood there hatred burning through me.

The innkeeper had escaped me. He had not died the way I wanted him to die! The

innkeeper died saving somebody, not by my hand. The person I most wanted to kill

that night was the one I had failed to.

         I couldn’t handle it anymore. Darkness flooded through me. The others were

dead and the innkeeper with them. Was it really important that I hadn’t been the one

to kill him? I suppose not, I told myself. But deep within myself I knew I had tasted

failure and that I would never forget the innkeeper as long as I lived.

         I looked down and saw the girl lying at my feet. In a rage I slew the girl, a deep

darkness had blinded my senses. I drew my dagger across her tiny neck. She was

an orphan destined for a life of pain. But she was the offspring of that cursed

innkeeper and it was only fitting that I terminate any remnant of him. A child is never

innocent just like the rest of us. When I finally came back to my senses, I looked

down at the lifeless body. I had killed a child and the blood ran freely down her neck.

But the kill was justified in my mind; she was a part of the innkeeper.

          After this incident with the innkeeper, I continued my life as an assassin. I

killed as I had always killed. On the outside nothing had changed, but the burn of

failure and hatred forever changed me. The innkeeper and I had been complete polar

opposites and one was destined to dominate. When I knew I had won, he flipped the

tables. I don’t care that he died; what burns is my failure and complete

incompetence to choose his death.

         I lost my skills and my career went down. I became a common assassin and

thief. I still killed but not with such grace or eloquence. I became a wanted fugitive

hunted down in every town; so bad was this that I burned my face with acid and now

wear a small black mask over half my face. But all of this was in vain. I have met my

destiny and now I sit in a dank, dark cell. With a price on my head I do not merit a

trial and I sit here now knowing that the end is coming soon. However the powers

that be decided to allow me a trial, allow me a chance to explain my unexplainable

actions. My trial was surprisingly short and I was sentenced with the traditional

verdict given to murderers. A unanimous vote against me but then again I had

expected it. I have lost twice, once with the innkeeper and once with myself. I will

not be able to choose my death, which makes my failure complete. People look and

see me sitting like a repentant sinner, but as I look up they see the fire blaze in my

eyes. My life is ending I do not regret a single thing I ever did. Every murder or

attack I ever committed is justified in my mind. Killing is in my blood and I will take it

without struggle.

          The guards are coming nearer and nearer and I know the time draws near.

The door opens and my hands are bound with thick rope, while they push me along.

I walk up to the scaffold and glance around at the crowd, a blood thirsty crowd just

waiting for my execution. All that separates me from this world and the next is rope

and a quick drop. My life is over but I will see the innkeeper again. As I recall all the

wonderful deeds in my life a laugh escapes my mouth. I will find the innkeeper. I will

find him this time, and I will kill him.