* Hangover cures and other matters

Anne had arrived in Shouthampton a few days earlier in the company of the vast hordes of Devon's Knights. The journey from Bridgewater had seemed to go quickly, with entertaining banter round the campfires and decent weather to speed the days. Anne liked Spring anyway, the trees had come into vivid green leaf, many in blosson, the early flowers were appearing, the birds were singing their courtships.

A day later, the army had moved on, to pastures new where bandit and brigands probably weren't but needed deterring anyway. Anne had stayed behind with her friend Madalena, who had duties for some weeks in the city. Anne herself was at a loose end, but it was a good opportunity to meet people and explore a new part of the world.

Anne stumbled into the Red Lion after a day of quarrying. She smiled to see her friend already there and went to get an ale for herself. How was your day? Do you want a pint too, Madalena? Oh... Her voice trailed off as she realised Madelena had dozens of mugs in front of her already. Perhaps just talking would be better....


....Much later, Anne had had a few drinks, but was still in control. She helped Madalena upstairs to her cot and made sure she was safe. She found her own cot, smiled, and soon fell into a dream-filled and happy sleep.

The next morning, Madalena was already awake when Anne's dreams still ran. Anne lazily stretched and yawned, She felt good. She started to remember the night before and before long she had worked out what was dream and what wasn't, and decided she really ought to get up and do something with the day. Perhaps a swim?

Finding Madalena, she realised not everyone was faring so well. Whilst beautiful and lithe, her friend looked like she was in severe pain and her face looked full of anger. She brought Madalena a drink across and looked enquiringly across at her Don't move, tell me about it. Lets see what we can do. She kissed Madalena's cheek. Breakfast?

After participating on the Bridgewater’s archery tournament, Madalena remained on the lovely village for a few more days, savouring some of the best ale in the realm, as some inhabitants liked to emphasize. Between a pint and another, she met charming people and had wonderful, sometimes light-headed, talks. Anne, a young beautiful girl, somewhat older than Madalena, was a constant presence at the Crossroads Inn, and empathy and friendship poured from her heart for the very first time since Eduarda’s death.

Eventually, the buzz of life came to a halt. The contest had over and the travellers were headed for a new destination. Madalena was no exception. The young woman packed her scarce belongings and travelled alongside the Devon’s Knights, led by the General Vukotić, to Southampton. Anne kept her company, and Madalena greatly cherished the moments shared with Anne around the campfires, at night, when only their feminine voices and laughter were heard in the nocturnal quiet.

Upon their arrival at Southampton, Madalena accepted an invitation from the constable to be chief marshal of the village for at least a month. The pay was good and the young woman was in need of a more permanent occupation. Anne stayed behind with Madalena, keeping her company and cheering her days, breaking the silence of the lonely spring nights.

Madalena was sitting, holding an empty mug of ale on her right hand, when Anne entered the Red Lion Inn. The young woman was covered with dust, and Madalena assumed that she had been working on the quarry. Such hard work for a handsome girl like Anne.

“My day was just fine, thank you. And yours, Anne?” She smiled, drawling her words. “I have been here since… what the hell?! I have no idea.” Shrugging, she realised she was way too drunk to go anywhere or worry about wasted time.

They spent most the night talking, about everything and anything. When time came, Anne helped Madalena to her mattress, and the young woman fell into a stoned sleep.

Madalena woke up early on the next morning. The sun was bathing her bed and she sheltered her fuzzy eyes with one arm, grunting at the unpleasant feeling of being awake and hangover. She could tell that outside the birds were singing melodious symphonies that she found rather annoying. Perhaps someone would be able to appreciate such a stunning day, but not her.

Later, Anne would found her sitting at a table, holding her heavy head with one hand. The woman brought her a mug full of water and she sipped avidly. She was thirsty, and dizzy, and wobbly. “Thank you, Anne.” She mumbled, trying not to stir too much. “My head aches so much...” She was regretting drinking all that ale when the sound of the Anne’s lips across her pale skin made her head hurt a bit more. “Breakfast? I can hardly bear the thought of eating.”
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Ah, I see. I know what that feels like myself. Perhaps it is more than the ale. Concern for her young friend’s state of health didn't stop Anne ordering and quickly polishing off a breakfast suitable for supplying the energy needed for a day's labour, or more. While she ate, she thought about other things that might help Madalena feel more like her normal ebullient and joyful self.

'Hair of the dog' might be the most commonly suggested remedy, but much as Anne liked a drink or two herself, she had never understood the logic of what was effectively taking more poison to cure the effects of the previous night's poison. Some had told her that being buried in sand somehow helped, which sounded like some small round furry objects to Anne's mind. And she had already been plying Madalena with water, which seemed much more logical.

She decided to suggest food again a bit later, perhaps something sweet, or something easy to palette like a soup - but Madalena was clearly likely to throw up, attack Anne or both is she pushed the point just now. A refreshing dip might be another idea...

What about a cold bath or a dip in the sea? Shock therapy? Perhaps that would wake you up and shock your system a bit? Perhaps it was a mean suggestion, maybe Anne was enjoying a certain schadenfreude at her friend’s health, having often suffered such self-inflicted agonies herself but for once being the one feeling fine.

Madalena searched Anne’s eyes, "More than the ale?" She questioned feeling slightly confused and added, “This hellhole has nothing more to offer.” Despite her harsh words, today Madalena was grateful for the familiar quietness of Southampton, since her throbbing head could not tolerate the turmoil of a lively village.

Madalena closed her eyes as Anne rummaged through the inn, preparing a meal for herself. The young woman felt nothing more besides the aching in her head and stomach, and for several minutes they remained silent until Anne asked how she felt about a bath. Opening her fuzzy eyes, a cautious smile flourished on her dry lips, and she said “Perhaps that would be good, Anne. A dip in the sea, I mean. But I’d need your help, I cannot trust my shaky legs.” She reached across the table and touched Anne’s hand, “I promise you I won’t drink this much ever again, I’ll behave, I promise…” By the time she hushed, an adorable grin graced her beautiful face.
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