[ WP ] CSI in Medieval Times

With a great fanfare from a trailing retinue of minstrels in gaudy costumes, the coach pulled up to the hovel. It was painted black, with the words “ Ye Wilde-Arse-Guessers of Things ” emblazoned on the side in chipping gold paint. 
 
 From out of the hansom stepped a positively *ancient* man, who had to be at least 40 years old. Also included were two …strumpets? And, then, a thin, reedy-looking young man hobbling an immense leather case. 
 
 They were immediately followed by a swarm of uniformed peasants that began peering closely at every object within a hundred yards. Since they, of course, could not possibly afford polished glass optics, they tried to make up for it by opening their eyes very wide. 
 
 The village headsman waited outside the hovel nervously, covered in red droplets of blood, and flanked by two impassive, fully-armored gendarmes. He looked very uncomfortable. 
 
 “ ’ ere, you ’ re them then? The investigators? ” He piped up, his voice a touch higher than he ’ d intended it to be. 
 
 “ That ’ s what it says on the side there, right? ” replied the old man indulgently. The young man coughed, and turned his head. 
 
 “ Well, beggin ’ you ’ re pardon, sirs, as I can ’ t read. ” 
 
 The old man, who similarly could not read, smiled and nodded. He hadn ’ t ever asked why the sign painter had given him such a good deal, or why he ’ d chuckled as they drove away. The young man turned a faint shade of pink. 
 
 “ My name is Gristlethumb. These young ladies are my co-workers. ” 
 
 “ Why have they got so much makeup on? ” Asked the headsman, somewhat bemused. 
 
 “ They are empowered women, I ’ ll have you know! Why they choose to wear their bodices so aggressively low-cut is their business, as is why they are both so conventionally attractive! This is a modern, *pregressive outfit* I ’ m running here! ” 
 
 The headsman, who had been momentarily distracted when one of them had leaned over, ( somewhat unnecessarily ) to look at a blade of grass, stammered, “ Sorry? What about their outfits? ” 
 
 Gristlethumb didn ’ t seem to notice his befuddlement. “ Why, without their valuable assistance, I couldn ’ t have cracked my last six cases, what were all about secret sex clubs, *coincidentally. * ” 
 
 If anything, the headsman looked even more confused, “ Is… are they *that common*? ” 
 
 “ They ’ re a *modern-day plague* they are… As is the *actual plague*. ” 
 
 Gristlethumb nodded in a self-assured way. “ I reckon there ’ s no less than *three* secret sexy subcultures hidden with a mile of here. ” 
 
 They looked out at the rolling, barren fields. 
 
 A crow cawed in the distance. 
 
 “ Secret sex clubs are known for *sneakiness*, too. ” 
 
 “ Er, *yes. * Of course. But, um could you maybe *get on with it? * I ’ ve got to ride back to town as soon as possible. ” 
 
 Gristlethumb looked over at the headman ’ s horse, which seemed to be laden down with the town ’ s entire treasury. A gold candlestick poked out of one of the saddlebags. 
 
 “ Yes, won ’ t take a minute, I ’ m sure. No murdrin ’ fiend is safe from my modern tech-knee-queues. ” 
 
 On the floor, lied the victim. Naked, and with the head of the headman ’ s gavel lodged in his own. He was aggressively dead. 
 
 “ Right! So here we have the victim. And just from the evidence, it ’ s clear what happened! ” 
 
 He pointed triumphantly. “ See that! That, right there, is the murdrer ’ s weapon! And here, muddy footprints, under the body! Just the same size as the headmans! ” 
 
 The headman looked momentarily nervous. 
 
 “ And his clothes, all speckled with *gore*! Yep, I can say without a doubt… ” 
 
 Everyone leaned in expectantly, 
 
 “ The suspect is… ” The headman, sweating bullets, closed his eyes… 
 
 “ …*Witches! * ” he said in a harsh whisper. 
 
 The headsman opened them, and stared at Gristlethumb. The young man who had come with them as a porter sighed, and shook his head. 
 
 Mistaking the reason for his astonishment, Gristlethumb, smiling, replied “ It was simple, to discover that witches were responsible. Once I noticed how you ’ d loaded your horse for a long journey with all the town ’ s silver, I knew you were fleeing witches, counting on the pure metal ’ s ability to keep you safe! ” 
 
 “ …He stole the gold too, you know. ” Piped up the porter. 
 
 “ Gilbert! *Please! * ” exclaimed Gristlethumb. “ This man just narrowly escaped being framed by witches! Making a mistake like that is *perfectly understandable* in his state of mind. ” 
 
 The headsman, who had nearly gone limp from relief, babbled “ Oh, yes, yes! It was the witches! You ’ re incredible! ” 
 
 Looking smug, Gristlethum replied. “ It ’ s fortunate for you that I haven ’ t failed to detect the hand of witches in *every case* I ’ ve *ever investigated. * 
 
 At this, Gilbert slapped his forehead and groaned loudly. 
 
 “ How can I ever thank you?! ” The headman exclaimed. 
 
 “ No thanks are necessary, ser. However, you ’ ll now be executed for harboring witches in your midst. ” 
 
 His jaw hung open in shock. 
 
 “ Yes, I ’ m afraid you would have been executed… ” At this moment, he put on a pair of incredibly thick spectacles, “ *whichever* way this investigation went. ” 
 
 At that moment, a peasant was kicked by a horse, and screamed loudly. 
 
 “ We ’ re done here. Take him away ” 
 
 
 POSTSCRIPT 
 
 I hope you liked it. I've got other things like this [ *ova heah* ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/IWasSurprisedToo/ ). Hope you'll forgive my hamhanded attempt at parody...
