Bragi set the small ballista into position behind Hansa. The giant mare stood in line with a dozen horses, and was mounted by a straw and stick mock up of the bard, which looked surprising real, even at 100 paces.
“How can you be sure the murderer will appear M’lord” said his captain Bartholomew Bitters.
“I have studied the arrogant sod’s traits” replied Bragi, “and you can be sure as soon as he reads the king’s warrant charging me with bringing the man to justice, he will mount the parapet there and hurl his favorite epithets before settling in for a siege.”
Within minutes of the General’s declaration, a tall rotund chap in hose and velveteen stepped to the top of his castle’s protections and began to shout rather nasty vitriol toward the assembled King’s men.
“Hansa, now” was all the bard said, and the horse moved to her left, pushing the line to move along with her, and a moment later a bolt the size of the leg of a stool rocketed toward the foppish figure.
The men nearby heard the pluck of lute strings and a soft voice whispering words of promise, just before the huge arrow found its target and sent Baron Carden McCray into the sky for a short while before depositing his now lifeless corpse atop the woodpile near the castle kitchens.
“Aye,” a soldier exclaimed, “behold the scorpion’s sting! A fine shot your Bardness!” Bragi smiled and bowed, then remounted his lute onto Hansa’s haunch and turned to his Captain once more. “I know its cheating a bit” he said, “but I have a date with Galtee's Queen Regent tonight and she hates to be kept waiting.”