Charos

Charos. He is spoken of in quiet whispers in corners. Mumbled by gruff men in drinking houses. Some say he is a judgement and punishment to the damned. Others call him hero. All speak with fear. Eyes move wildly when his name is mentioned. As if such a giant could be amongst them. Listening.

I ran my hand down the cold mug of beer. My other hand picking splinters in the wooden table. My ears perked as I listened to the gossip at the next table. The Golden Compass was a drunken man's pub. People had bar stools named after them when the Reaper took them and their liver to hops heaven. The Compass was set with a low ceiling. Black timber beams imposing on the confined space. The musky smell of sweat and earth mixed with casks of ale stored behind the bar.

Syrus the bar keep polished mgs slowly. His one eye constantly moving along the dozen oak tables scattered around the L shaped bar. Drink loosened tongues and fists. The tables were bolted with iron to the floors.

The four travellers spoke loudly. Their cloaks stained with dust from the road. Their packs discarded around their table. The largest smashed his mug down spilling ale on his companions.

‘ Load of rubbish it is.'

‘Keep it down Ned you bloody fool. ‘

His weasel faced companion sought to placate him. His hand patting Ned’s shoulder.’

‘Get your damn hand off me Jim. I ain’t no child. You coward. I’m not afraid of him. Charos can kiss my arse.’

As one the bar muted. Nervous dirty patrons turned as one towards him. Even I could feel the air catch in my breath. My hand instinctively touching the dagger in my belt. The heavy oak door flew open. The cold winter air blasting through the earthy musk. Syrus has stopped polishing.

‘You four. Get your packs and clear off.’

Ned stood unsteadily at first missing the handle of his pack at first try.

‘Your all bloody mad. He’s just a man. If he even is anything at all.'

Syrus slapped a leather cosh onto the bar. The sound reverberated around the bar. Patrons watched on with me.

‘Your ales a load of crap anyway, come on lads lets get out of this stinking back water.’

Everyone watched as weasel face followed the other three and the door slammed shut. I ran my hands through my hair. Taking a sip I wrinkled my nose. The ale had gone flat. I grabbed my pack and flipped Syrus a Half Moon.

As the silver hit the bar. The door swung open again. Slamming into the plaster violently

‘I’ll get it Syrus.’

The wind made my eyes water as I walked out the door. The moonlight gleamed off the blood soaked snow. I heard the heavy crunch of snow. A tall shadow moved off . Snow swirling around his shrouded form. Ned’s bodiless head stared up at me in solemn silence.