Bedraggled

“I can kill you here, if you like,” said the prison guard pulling the bedraggled man.

“Why would you say that?”

“You know the king’s reaction to treachery. Trust me, it would be a blessing. A mercy from an old acquaintance, if nothing else.”

“Keep your bloodthirsty mitts away from me, you fucking jackal. Once I see his royal highness, this whole mess will be behind us.”

“As you say,” the man said as a grease stain stretched across the stones from the prisoners cell. Bowen didn’t believe Manx, but that wasn’t his problem. Clean up might be by the state of Manx however.