Yes she does... And it's quite an event.

The usual hustle and bustle of the Friday market sounded subdued as William sauntered through the gathered crowds. Feeling eyes upon him, William knew his presence was putting the townsfolk on edge, but his face cracked a smile as he spotted Beatrice haggling the price of a sad looking turnip. He approached Beatrice unnoticed then gently felt her slender shoulder. "That's a shocking turnip, Beatrice."

"Oh! Sorry... my, Liege. You shocked me. You're early? The sun say's its not yet noon."

"I was excited." William nodded towards the vegetable stall. "So the turnip... How much?"

"He wants a pretty penny for an ugly turnip."

"Is that what he asks for? I do suppose he must make a living like the rest of us." William untied the velvet pouch that hung from belt. He then pulled out a silver groat. "My good man. I have a silver groat."

The ill looking grocer stood open mouthed. "Forgive me, my Liege. Have you not got a smaller coin? I have not enough to change your groat."

"Then give me its value in other vegetables."

"I would, but I fear I do not have enough to sell you."

"Stop worrying, man... My chamberlain will send a kitchen boy later in week to collect the rest. "

Beatrice felt confused by William. "I didn't think you would be so keen on such vegetables."

"They are for you."

"But I only wanted a turnip."

The smile on Beatrice's face raised William's spirits. "Yes. You need a good meal... almost as much as this trader needs the money."

"I appreciate your kindness. But can I share the vegetables among the townsfolk?"

"Why would you do that? I bought them so you can eat well for a month."

Beatrice glanced around the market. "Because they are my neighbours." Seeing the tired faces of the people she had always known made her feel sorry for those she had lost. "We endured the bad times, so we should also share in the good times."

"I can see that you're a generous soul."

"I try to be."

Eyeballing the grocer who appeared close to ****, William ordered, "Pack the vegetables into a strong sack and deliver it to the cookhouse with the order to make fine soup for the town's needy."

"That's very kind, my Liege. Right away."

Beatrice felt humbled by William's actions. "They will appreciate your good gesture."

"It was not my gesture, but yours. I need to change my ways as I'm tighter than an otter's bottom."

"How do you know how tight a... never mind."

"I was reliably told by my gamekeeper." William could still sense the eyes of the town on him. "Do you think once the peasants get their soup they will stop looking at me like my horse just shit on their doorstep?"

"It's not your fault, nor is it theirs. They're just weary. The last Baron was known for his bad temper and punishing taxes."

~

The pair arrived at the moat lawn where a fenced ring had been constructed. A crowd had gathered and cheered the pig handler, who opened the gate of the pen to release his animal into the ring. As the pig snorted and patrolled its space, William asked, "So explain... what is this so called sport?"

"Basically, it's a penny to enter and the first one to catch the pig takes the winnings at the end of the day. If there is more than one winner... then it's the one with the quickest time. But hardly anyone ever catches the pig... It's easier to find an honest Norman."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

"Oh my Lord!" Beatrice covered her mouth with both her hands. "I'm so sorry, my Liege. A mere slip of the tongue."

"Don't worry." William's eyes widened as he heard the crowd cheering his name. "Why are they cheering my name? Have they found out about the soup already?"

"No, the pig is called... William."

"But I'm called William?"

"Yes. That is a fact which hasn't gone unnoticed."

William ground his teeth. "That's more than pure coincidence... isn't it?"

"Well, it is a common name."

"Not in pig circles it isn't. I mean, it's not up there with Porky, Smoky or bloody Sizzler. Is it?"

"I thought you told me you didn't have a sense of humour?" Beatrice watched as William took off his rich robe. "What are you doing?"

"Right, I'm going to challenge."

"Are you sure? You will get filthy, risk making a fool of yourself, or even injured."

"I'm a fine specimen of a man. All I have to do is keep it on its flank for three measly seconds, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, how hard can that be?"

William noticed the pig handler asking for participants, then threw his arm up into the air while shoving his way through the crowd. The pig handler felt shocked and shouted over the excited cheers of the audience. "My Liege?"

"I see your pig is called William."

"I swear to God that I did not name it in your honour. It's a family name."

"I want to prove that there is only one William in this town."

Fearing for his own safety as well as the Baron's, the pig handler uttered. "Are you sure you want to enter? It can be dangerous, my Liege. No place for the landed gentry."

"Damn it, man. I'm as sure as a man can be."

"OK. Then you're first."

The pig handler shoved open the gate and the Baron stepped into the ring. William faced down the greased pig who seemed more interested in combing the floor with his snout.

The word had spread and it seemed the entire town had now gathered to watch the surreal event of a Baron tackling a pig on a muddy field.

William rolled up his sleeves while he slowly walked up to the pig. "Easy boy, I'm not going to hurt you." As William steadily closed in on the pig, he slowly opened his arms. "Now there we are. I just want to give you a hug, old boy." He then stopped with only half a step between them.

The crowd collectively drew its breath as they watched William inch closer towards the pig. All the time the pig was yet to even acknowledge the presence of the Baron.

William pounced but the pig scampered.

A flailing William hit the muddy turf with nothing to embrace but the muddy ground. While he lay motionless on the rain sodden turf, he could hear the mocking crowd ringing in his ears.

Finally William cracked, "The little bastard." Wiping the dirt from his face, he climbed to his feet. "Time to get serious." He glared at the pig which seemed uninterested. "You're going to be on my plate before this day is through."

To the cheer of the crowd and the sound of his own battle cry, William raced towards the pig.

In an effort to reduce the escape routes, William shepherded the pig towards the fence. Remaining light on his feet he tried to judge the direction of its escape.

Carefully judging the distance William once again threw himself at the pig. This time he landed on top of the hog and wrapped his arms around its body. He then proceeded to ride backwards on the pig with its curly tail tickling his face. But the grease aided the pig's struggles and William eventually lost his prize.

On the churned ground William pulled dirt from his mouth once more. He then spat towards the mud as he gingerly picked himself up. The crowd remained silent as if they did not know how to react to the Baron's plight. William shouted, "Who wants roast pork tonight?"

William's rallying call caused the crowd to become raucous. He then approached the fence, where a worried Beatrice stood in the crowd, before offering his muddied hand. "Help me out here."

"Me?"

To a mixture of wolf whistles and cheers, William helped Beatrice over the rickety wooden fence. Jumping down onto ground, Beatrice stared at a mud covered William. "I don't know if I should laugh or cry?"

"What's life if you can't laugh, Bea?"

"I can laugh. But maybe we should just admit defeat here?"

"Normans never surrender."

Beatrice glanced at the angry hog. "But that's one hell of a pig."

"Just imagine it glazed with honey and stuffed with onion and garlic...Not to mention the succulent smell of it roasting on the fire."

"I can taste him now."

"Then let's get him on our plate."

The pair targeted the pig in a pincer movement, forcing the hog to make a dash in between. William made one last dive. This time he took the hooves from under the hog, tackling it to the ground. But once again he could not grip and risked letting the pig escape from his grasp. However to the delight of the crowd, Beatrice swan dived on the wrestling pair.

The exhausted pig laid in submission. The battle was won. William and Beatrice were the winners.

Pork dinners all around.

As the mud covered pair walked off the field, William had a wide victorious grin, and put his arm around Beatrice. "You're quite a woman Beatrice." The embrace was a public sign of affection and one that did not go unnoticed by the crowd. The public saw it as a sign that William was marking his property. They felt they already knew Beatrice was sharing his bed, or if she hadn't... She was about to.

~

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