"Tims! Tims!"
Tims’ eyes opened with a start as he blinked away the last remaining vestiges of a dream.
Rubbing his eyes, he looked over to where Kim, one of Brad's women, was pulling the sheets from him. She looked to be still half asleep. Her hair wasn't combed and she still wore her nightgown. For women in her profession, mornings started late. Her loose fitting gown hung low as it was suppose to so men could get a good look at what they were paying for.
"Get up, boy!" she said hurriedly. The look of apprehension was in her voice.
"What?" Tims asked still clouded with sleepiness. "What’s going on?"
"Soldiers! They are at the door asking for you! Now get up and get dressed!" She leaned over and flung a pair of pants in his direction. Angrily, she said, "What did you do last night to have King's soldiers banging on our door!" She ran out the door where another woman stood blinking back sleep. "What's happening, Kim?"
Kim didn't stop as she said, "Our boy here did something stupid! King's men are here. Now shut up and get dressed!"
With the last remaining sleep fading fast, he hurriedly dressed.
Soldiers? What did they want with him?
Events from last night flashed through his mind. He stopped pulling his shirt over his head and froze.
Had the King changed his mind? Maybe the King thought he actually had a part to play in the attempted assassination!
Stop thinking too much! Nothing can be done about it but to see what the soldiers wanted.
He finished pulling the loose fitting shirt about him and grabbed the pair of shoes next to the bed. He carried them with him walking the length of the hall down to the parlor room.
The first thing he saw was a guard reclining in a seat drinking hot steaming mead. The still cool air of early morning hung about the parlor as Brad stacked logs in the fireplace. Near him, Brandy sat in a chair watching from concealed eyes everything going on. She wouldn't get up of course. The only time she allowed herself around men was when they paid her.
"Master Tims, I presume?" The guard stood to his feet on seeing him enter the room. He wore a blue livery coat fashioned in the pattern of the King’s home guard. An emblem embroidered on the upper arm of the coat came into view.
Tims’ heart leaped into his throat and he faltered on coming any closer to the man. This wasn't any normal guard. This was the Knight Marshal! He commanded the King’s Home Guard from Sarsda! What was he doing here for? He nodded slightly, feeling uneasy. "You asked for me?"
The man gave a thin smile and replied, "My name is Jennings. I am King Joshua's Knight Marshall of Sarsda. I was asked directly by him to escort you."
Tims frowned, confused. "On what charges?"
Jennings shook his head. "You misunderstand me, young sir." He drew out a piece of parchment from a coat pocket and handed it to him.
Tims looked at the lettering and shook his head. He turned to where Brad was watching with feigned boredom. "Can you read this for me?"
Brad made his way towards him and took the parchment in hand glancing at the signature several times. Slowly, his eyebrows rose with a look of considerable disbelief. Finished reading, he simply stared at Tims the same way he reacted to the letter.
"What in all the nine gods did you do, last night boy!" He turned to Master Jennings. "Is this real?"
Master Jennings nodded. "It comes straight from King Joshua's hand."
"Well, what does it say?" Kim made her way over along with several other women. "Spill it, Brad. What did the boy get himself mixed up in?"
Brandy's eyes locked on his.
"He saved the King's life, that's what this says!" Brad tried to laugh but he couldn't quite get his mind around the thought.
To Tims, he said, "Pack your bags, boy. You are no longer mine to worry about." He laughed again and patted him on the head before returning the letter. In an off handed remark, he added, "To think, a bastard like you saving the King. What will come next?"
Tims watched as Brad walked away. Something deep inside pierced through his heart like a dagger he didn't know was there. He knew Brad hadn't asked to raise him but was there nothing in him that cared? Even a little?
Hanging his head, he slowly walked back to his bedroom.
Just yesterday he was dreaming of adventure. Now as it came to him, a fear welled up inside. He was leaving everything he had ever known. The one man who had watched over him was discarding him like he was no more than an unwanted servant. Which is what he was, wasn't he?
For a long moment, he sat on the edge of his bed trying to wrap his head around what was happening.
A soft touch to his shoulder and he looked up.
Brandy slowly sat down next to him. Unexpectedly, she reached over and hugged him.
"Brandy?" he asked, unsure what to make of the girl's gesture.
Brandy gave a deep sigh. "You are different than everyone else." She was looking down, not able to look him in the face. "You are special."
Tims gave a tight laugh to conceal the sudden pain well up. "If you say so." More words escaped him and the two of them fell silent.
At last, Brandy placed a hand in his, giving a gentle squeeze. "You're not like others, Tims. You're gentle, thoughtful, you sympathize with us who have lived through hell." A small smile escaped. "Don't ever change, not for anyone."
Tims looked away feeling awkward with her words. A lump was forming in his throat and he tried to hide it with a smirk, failing miserably.
"I have to get going." He stood to his feet.
Brandy stood then and for a long moment, they stared at each other awkwardly.
She leaned in and without asking, pulled him towards her, kissing him on the lips. Stepping away, she looked into his eyes, never saying anything. Finally, she leaned into his ear and whispered, "I will miss you," before hurrying out of the room.
He swore he saw a tear in her eyes. But Brandy never cried.
It took less than ten minutes to pack all that he owned. With one small bag of belongings, he walked back into the parlor where the man called Jennings awaited. "I'm ready," he said in a dejected voice.
Marshall Jennings nodded. "Then let us be on our way. It's a five day’s journey to the capital." He stood to his feet digging out a coin and placed it on the table next to the chair he had been sitting in. He motioned for Tims to follow.
Tims paused to look one last time about him.
Jennings already had the front door open. Turning, he watched the boy for a moment. "The world awaits you, young master, but I am not getting any younger."
Tims nodded with a sigh and followed the Knight Marshall out the door to two horses waiting on the street.
Jennings looked about him and then back at the established brothel. "Perhaps the future will treat you better than what you have known so far." He gave a comforting smile seeing the nervousness in Tims. "Come, boy." He turned and walked to where the two horses were tethered at posts.
Tims took a deep breath and let it out. There was nothing here for him. He was truly alone in the world.
He followed Jennings and with a bit of help, was on the back of a horse. He had never ridden a horse before. His awkwardness showed and Jennings gave a few tips on how to sit in the saddle.
When Jennings’ horse began to trot, Tims blinked stupidly. He knew the reigns were there for something but that was the extent of his horse knowledge.
Without warning, his own mount began trotting behind Jenning’s horse.
Well, that’s good…I think. He looked about him, feeling his insides knot up. He was on a horse behind one of Calmone’s most powerful knight.
When they were almost to the edge of town, he thought hard about looking back at the place he was born.
Turning his eyebrows down, he scowled.
He would not look back. Not ever.
* * *
The ride to Sarsda was a week's long journey of sore muscles and a wounded pride. Nobody told him the most painful part of riding would be between his legs. For the first two days, he groaned and dismounted at times. He could hardly walk which prompted Jennings to pad the saddle with a blanket. He gave a brief smile. “Not knowing anything about riding will do this to you, boy. Don’t think too much about it. You’ll learn soon enough.”
The pain of riding was distracted by the majestic beauty of the countryside. Tims had never been outside of Willow Town. The sight of the rolling hills and trees, the colors of nature took him by surprise. The land flowed with vegetation, tall ancient trees and flowing streams. Stone bridges and lush pastures painted the day with small cottages. By night, the sky lit the surrounding land coupled with a strangely different world of sights and sounds.
At week’s end and nights of sleeping on roots and pine cones, a large span of flatland came into view. A large winding river flowed by Jennings called the Rock River. It flowed from the Drysin Sea, north of them, into Calmone's many provinces.
Throughout the week’s long journey, Jennings filled his head with a wealth of knowledge he never thought of before. The Rock River was a major source of travel for distributing most of the eastern half of Calmone's resources. It began in the port city of Cabol, north of the capital city of Sarsda. From there, it entered Sarsda's ports and warehouses. Dustow was just south east where many sailors stopped to take in the many fine artistries and upscale social activities afforded to the rich merchant ships. Other ports existed even more south but for now, Tims only needed to understand these three ports.
When asked why he needed to know this information, Jennings smiled. "You will understand when we reach Sarsda." That's all he would say.
A few days later, the last hill was crested before a large bay opened. The valley itself was marked by a few houses but what struck the eye was the structure in the center of the valley.
Towering walls sprouted up encircling an enormous city. Behind the walls, spiraling towers grew on top of each other with interconnecting bridges. An inlet from the Rock river flowed through the city as well. In all, the grandeur of it all took him by surprise. He gaped at the marvel he was seeing.
Beside him, Marshall Jennings reigned in and took in the sight himself. "I sometimes forget how Sarsda can look to the outside world. It’s one of the most ancient places known in the Five Kingdoms of Elise." He smiled before pointing out an obvious sight. "Do you see those pillars in the valley? They circle the entire city wall and yet nobody has yet understood their purpose." He shook his head. "It's like that with many things in our country."
Tims recalled a bard singing something to that affect before. Calmone held many ancient relics of the past but there was little record of it past 300 years.
Jennings continued, "We are in the summer months now but when it comes time to harvest, there will be a festival celebrating the season. But we will also celebrate the Historian Society as we delve into uncovering our own past." He patted him on the shoulder. "You will like the festivals. Everybody does." He rolled his eyes then. "Unlike me who has to deal with the influx of travelers from across the Five Kingdoms."
In a few short hours, they passed under the first gatehouse of Sarsda opening to a world Tims knew nothing about.
Streets ran everywhere with building after building. People with horses and carriages passed by without end. The number of bodies staggered him. He wasn't used to being around so many people! The noise as well was much louder. Street corner vendors shouted out their wares while a strange aroma filled the air. There was such a mixture of smells, he couldn't tell what was what.
Jennings hurried him along without giving him time to look around. In the course of another hour, they had passed under two gatehouses that separated Sarsda into sections. When at last they approached the third, the gatehouse entered a long tunnel. At each end stood a guard who made certain to know your business. They didn't bother to look twice when Jennings approached. The first guard parted with a salute.
Jennings saluted back with a fist to his chest.
The echo of cobblestones underneath resounded in the dark tunnel.
On exiting, they were met with a lush green lawn and a variety of trees. Paths meandered here and there while the main road turned to the right where a large pasture loomed. The main stables stood out with a large hall attached.
"The hall is where you will be staying," Jennings said at Tims curious stare. "You will be part of the royal stable hand underneath Master Richards. The hall is part of the Courier Riders who dispatch all the important messages to and from the capital."
Approaching the stables, Jennings reigned in his horse.
Tims did his best to do the same and he succeeded somewhat though a bit awkwardly.
"For your services to the King,” Jennings said facing the stable yards and an open door, “you have been granted a special place inside the royal establishments. Not many young people are as privileged as you right now." He looked over to the stable door and waited. “Make sure you adhere to the Master handler in all he says. Understand?"
Tims nodded, unsure how to talk. Being assigned a position in the royal stables was never part of his dreams. Sure, he had wanted to leave Willow Town and have an adventure but this was far more exciting.
The smell of horse rose in the air and he felt a sudden compulsion to run and be with them himself.
From the stables, two men walked out to meet them.
The first man was tall and rugged. His hair was matted brown and losing the top. He was also built with a mustache. He smiled warmly as they approached.
"Marshall Jennings, a pleasure to meet you. What brings you to my humble stables?" He looked at Tims as if he were a fresh new horse he was about to break.
Jennings patted Tims on the shoulder. "You have a new stable hand, Richards. He's the hero of the attempt on the King's life. The King has ordered he be placed under your good care. Teach him everything you know. The King seems to have set his eyes on him."
"He has, huh?" Richards looked Tims up and down. "Your name, boy."
"Tims, sir." Tims tried to sound older than he was. He was far out of his element here.
Richards gave him a scrutinizing glance up and down. "Have you ever worked in the stables before?"
He shook his head no.
Richards drew in a long breath before letting it out. "Have you at least been around horses?"
Again, he shook his head no.
Richards gave Marshall Jennings a glare. "How do I know this whelp won't whine about the chores? This isn't the city stables. I make a point to know who I employ."
Marshall Jennings gave a wicked grin. "Then have at it, my friend. But the King has ordered it."
Richards' glare turned on Tims. He motioned for the one who followed him out. "Daniel, he's yours to train. Don't make me regret this. If he messes up, you answer for him." Richards took a few steps back.
Daniel was tall and lean with a short beard but it could be told he wasn't yet a man. His figure was thin but his eyes were keen as a hawks. He took in Tims’ young and scrawny features then turned to face Richards who wore a smirk. "Are you serious?" Turning back to him, Daniel sighed. "Get off the horse. I guess we are going to start with the very basics."
Tims dismounted, all the while Daniel yelling, "That's not the way to dismount!"
Marshall Jennings laughed. "Good luck, boy!" and turned to leave.
Tims saw Daniel had a frown on his face. "This is going to take some time, isn't it?"
Daniel simply nodded. "Grab the reigns and bring him in. I'll show you how to rub him down and feed him."
* * *
That first week found Tims slopping manure. Every time he got something wrong in how Daniel trained him, the manure was left for him as punishment.
Every morning, he would wake at the crack of dawn and eat in the dining hall shared with stable hands and the Royal Couriers. There were easier ways to deliver messages and faster. Magic was the normal delivery system for the temples. Most people in the city took their messages to the main temple grounds where a special delivery system was set up through magic.
But King Joshua was a stickler. He was of the old ways. It was no secret he held ill feelings towards the priests and their temples. When the morning prayers were heard, Joshua would never attend. Neither did his family. It was just one of the many reasons the rumors said he was at odds with the nobles at court. To snub the gods was always dangerous.
The first two days, Tims ate alone. He knew nobody and nobody wanted to know him. He was the new comer and looked like he hadn't worked a day in his life.
On the third day, he discovered exactly why he was shunned.
He had gotten out of bed erasing the last remnants of sleep from his face. He held up a pair of new pants and marveled at the idea. Brad had rarely gotten him anything new. They were hand downs from other people and this was only when his clothing began to fall apart.
Walking down the corridor of the servant's hall, he saw two boys snicker as they spotted him, quickly running down a stairwell.
Ahead the great doors of the dining hall opened.
He didn't give the boys’ laughter a second thought. He was new. Of course he was going to be the butt of jokes for a while. But wait till he showed his stubborn side! He would make a name for himself here. He smiled as he plotted out his life in the service to his King. He would be the best stable hand ever!
The smell of food floated through the hall as he got in line to wait for his turn. His stomach growled and his mouth watered. Bacon, eggs, fresh bread, milk, the finest of cheeses. He had landed in paradise.
Stepping behind a boy about sixteen, he waited patiently thinking of all the wonderful food that would fill him this morning.
Two more older boys stepped in line behind him. "That's him, isn't it?" somebody whispered from behind him.
"Of course, can't you see the scrawny thing? No doubt he probably slept with half the girls himself!"
Laughter cascaded from several more boys behind.
A sudden rough tap on his shoulder and Tims felt hands grab him, turning him roughly around to face a crowd of onlooking boys, some his own age, others much older.
The one who grabbed him was about his own age with curling red hair and a pocked face. He grinned with a wicked smile. "I hear you're a bastard. What is it like to know your mother has slept with half the city?" More laughter erupted.
Another boy grabbed him roughly and said, "He probably did the same! He's old enough. I think he might be diseased."
Yet another said, "I hear he slept with his own mother!" Now the entire line of boys erupted with laughter.
"Bastard!" a shout rang out.
Suddenly, it became a chant as boys pushed at him hard.
The boy who had first grabbed him, gripped him hard. A glare was in his eye. “You don’t belong here, bastard boy. You don’t belong anywhere and we don’t want you here!” He pulled back his hand, forming a fist to strike.
“Enough!” A bellowing roar shot through the hall.
The boys immediately stepped back as if struck.
From the doorway, Master Richards stormed in like a raging bull. His eyes were set like he was going to strangle someone. Coming to stand next to Tims, he glared profusely at the boy who was about to punch Tims. “You, Jimmy. You have slop duty. Go clean the stalls.”
“But-” Jimmy stammered, “I didn’t eat yet.”
“Now!” Richards shouted with a furious glare.
Jimmy sulked and stepped out of line. He slowly walked to the door but turned and gave Tims a hate filled glare.
“The rest of you,” Richards glared at the boys, “If I ever hear you talk like this again, I will dismiss you immediately from my service. Do you understand?” He waited as the group of boys slowly nodded, heads down. “I don’t give a damn where you come from. But underneath my roof, you will be respectful to all people.” He held their attention a few seconds later before turning to Tims.
His demeanor shifted immediately to concern. “Are you ok, Tims?”
Tims nodded mutely. He didn’t trust himself to speak or tell the truth. He had never cried before and wasn’t about to now. He ignored the dagger that twisted in his heart. He wished he could do the same with the words echoing in his own head. Bastard, worthless bastard of a whore...
As the potatoes were placed on his tray along with the bacon and eggs, he quickly left.
Walking fast so nobody could see the redness in his eyes, he made his way out of the hall and back to his bedroom, slamming the door shut.
He sat on the edge of his bed, hanging his head. The plate of food just sat in his lap untouched. All thought of eating vanished. He couldn’t eat now.
Rubbing his eyes roughly, he glared as tears began to well up and he tried to fight them back. He didn’t care about his mom! He didn’t care where he came from. It wasn’t his choice! Why did he care now?
Furious with himself, he slammed the plate of food on a nearby table and clenched his fists. The insides of his stomach tightened and he was shaking from the pain welling up. He never had to deal with this sort of thing before. Everybody knew him in Willow Town. They avoided him, sure. But they didn’t outright make fun of him!
Clenching his fists harder, he got up, opened the door, and ran. He didn't care where his feet carried him. He needed to run.
From the stables out into the pasture fields, he let his feet carry him along, numb to everything around him. Unbidden tears fell in streaks across his face as a soft wind burned against the salty taste falling about his lips.
For what seemed forever, he simply ran till at last his feet gave out.
He fell to the green grass where he lay staring into the morning sky.
His heart pounded from the exertion and his feet felt like led weights.
Why had he come here? What possessed him to think this was something he could do? Bastards didn't belong anywhere in society. He had no family, no claim to anything.
Tears again welled up inside and for what seemed an eternity, the pain wouldn't end.
Worthless...
Bastard...
Nobody...
He let out a scream and cried, burying his head in the grass.
For several minutes, he lay like this, his world a wash of pain.
The sound of distant hooves brought him out of his darkness and he looked up.
In the distance, he spotted a horse and rider galloping hard across the plains.
He wiped the tears from his face and focused his eyes.
The horse by the looks of things was one of the rare breeds of Dunland horses, famed for speed and beauty. He had learned a thing or two in just a few days.
He kept eyeing the horse and rider till at last he could make out the rider much more clearly.
The rider it turned out was a girl much the same age as himself. Her long auburn hair flowed in the wind behind her, her horse’s entire gait one of pure joy. She laughed as her mount sped down the plains like it had been stung by a bee.
Suddenly, the girl spotted him laying in the grass and her composure changed so quickly he blinked.
Slowing to a canter, she turned in his direction. A minute later, she came near before reigning her mount to a halt next to him. She looked down at where he lay with a curious smile.
"I don't remember seeing you here before, boy. What is your name?"
Tims hesitated only a second before clearing his throat. "My name is Tims, my lady." He puzzled over her for a moment.
The girl's eyes shot up instantly with her mouth parting slightly. "Tims? Tims Caulder?"
He sighed. "Yes." Maybe he could change his name. He could hide his heritage that way.
The girl effortlessly dismounted with a flourish of grace. Turning to him, she knelt beside him and without warning, gripped him in a tight hug.
In a whisper, she said, "Thank you! Thank you!"
Tims blinked back confusion. With the girl's hands still wrapped about him, he asked, "What for? You have me at a loss."
The girl stifled a giggle. "I'm so sorry!" She pulled back and in a smile that melted him, she said, "My name is Averin Fredrick."
Tims’ heart thudded hard at the name. Quickly, he backed away and bowed. "My princess!" He whispered and dared not look up.
"Stop that!" the princess grabbed his chin and pushed him back up to look at her. "I don't care what people say. I don't want you bowing to me." She turned away and in a far off look, said. "I've heard what you did for my father." She turned back and looked him in the eyes. "You saved my father's life and for that I am grateful to you." She paused and looking off again. "I don't know what I would do without him."
For a time, neither of them spoke.
Averin kept glancing at him before asking, "Were you crying?"
"No!" Tims glared, trying to sound manly. "Why would you say that for?"
The princess huffed. "Because your eyes are puffy and you look like it." She punched him in the shoulder.
"Ouch!" he glared again. "What was that for?"
"For lying to me, stupid. Now tell me why you were crying."
"No." he shot back and began to get up.
Averin pushed him back down. "Not until you tell me!"
Tims blinked. "Are you like this with everybody?"
The princess shrugged. "I-" she frowned. "Just answer my question, boy."
"The name's Tims."
"Fine, Tiiiims." She drawled out the word. "So why were you crying? Do you miss home already?"
He snuffed. "I don't have a home."
This took the princess by surprise. She backed away just enough to view him fully. "No home?" This time her words weren't playful or demanding. There was sincere concern in her voice. "What happened?"
Tims looked away. "Weren't you already told?" The way he said it made Averin pause. She obviously heard the readily pain behind the words.
"I was only told you saved my father's life." She gave a sheepish smile. "I might have told father to bring you here so I could meet you."
A smile played on Tim's face briefly but vanished.
Sighing, she said, "OK, I don't need to know."
He gave a slight sarcastic laugh. "Everybody else knows. What does it matter now anyway?" There was clear anger behind his voice.
Averin waited silently.
"They're all saying my mother was a whore."
Averin's eyes lit up in anger. "Who said this! I will have father-"
Tims' raised hand stopped her.
In a soft voice, Tims said, "I was raised in a brothel by Brad. He raised me after my mother died." He paused to see the princess gasp. A soft pinkish hue washed over her face.
"I take it you know what a brothel is."
The princess nodded slightly. "I-" she floundered at what to say. Angered at her own embarrassment, she said, "I know what they do." She stopped short not knowing how to proceed. Then, "I'm sorry, Tims. I really am."
Tims shrugged. "It doesn't matter."
Averin stared at him for a long moment as though trying to find something inside him. At last, she got to her feet and pulled him up with her.
Again, she looked at him briefly without saying anything. Finally, she spoke but with it came a strange hesitancy in her voice. "If it's not too much to ask, can we meet like this again tomorrow?" She smiled wide. "I have nobody to talk to except Eseme and she's-" the princess thought for a second. "She's too proper for me." She made a disgusted face.
Tims laughed and Averin smiled.
"I'll be here." He smiled and for the first time in years felt a part of his insides warm.
"Tomorrow then!" Princess Averin said and leaped expertly back into her saddle.
With a wave of her hand, the princess rode off towards the stables.
Tims looked on in wonder. Maybe, just maybe he wouldn't run away.