by Guy Antibes
Boxster was able to get the woman down to two, paid in advance with a surcharge for cleaning the room an additional time. Trevor almost whistled. The woman’s cleaning did not come cheap.
“Is there any lunch left that isn’t pig’s swill?” Boxster asked.
“Of course there is. It’s cold by this time, but you’ll find it more than edible. Put your things in your room, and I’ll have something ready by the time you come down. Just go through the center door and up the stairs. The dining room is through this door or the one on the same side as this in the hallway. There is a stable a few doors down on this side of the street that can put up your horses.”
Boxster smirked. “Will they charge by the week?”
~
Trevor sat down in the dining room of the house. He fingered the hem of a real tablecloth. He hadn’t had a meal on a covered table since he last ate with his family in Tarviston. The landlady entered with a plate of sliced roast beef and a plateful of sliced bread. She didn’t say a word until she returned with a pot of butter and a bowl of apples.
“My boarders generally butter their bread and put a slice or two of roast beef between two slices.”
“I have seen these before in other places,” Boxster said.
“I didn’t claim I invented the things. Everyone has a different name for them. A few of my boarders call them meat beds, but I don’t like the term, so please don’t use it. I’ll join you as soon as I return with a jug of ale,” the landlady said.
Trevor didn’t wait and slipped two thin slices between two buttered pieces of bread and tried out something new. The butter was salty, but it only added to the flavor. He finished it long before Boxster did and just as their hostess was beginning to eat hers open-faced with a knife and fork, only eating one slice of bread and a slice of meat. She did keep pace with the ale drinking.
“Where are your other boarders?” Boxster asked.
“Working. Unemployed people can’t afford to live here. I have some shopkeepers, the schoolmaster, and others in town who don’t want to buy a house.”
“What is Peeker’s Flat known for?” Boxster asked.
Trevor sat silently, eating another meat bed. He didn’t like the name either, but he felt like he was going to school, listening to Boxster talk to the woman.
“It is kind of remote; then, the same can be said for most of the villages and towns in the Red Forest. There is a tin mine not far from here. One of the owners took up residence here when his wife died. Logging is big, of course, but only for the furniture trade. We have some rare species of trees that get sent to Tarviston.”
“No farming?” Trevor asked.
“Livestock. Chickens, pigs, cows, milk cows.”
“You are sure that only tin is mined close by?” Boxster said.
The woman colored a bit. “Of course.” She narrowed her eyes. “You aren’t king’s agents, are you?”
Trevor laughed. “Not dressed like this.”
“We have seen them dressed just like you. The king’s tax collector gets most of what we make. Peeker’s Flat isn’t any more prosperous than any other village or town in Presidon, and it only gets worse the closer you get to the borders. I hear it is the same throughout the country. We are fortunate that we are big enough to discourage the army from taking this town. You two aren’t from around here, are you?”
“Tarviston, if the truth be known,” Boxster said. “We ran a small forge in the city, making weapons, but we were taxed out of existence. The army behaves in the capital.”
The woman scoffed. “Not out here. Women don’t travel alone out of town. Villages…” She shook her head. “I won’t say any more, except I hear it is worse out to the west where the lords and their fiefs are almost lawless.”
“Has the West Moreton army given you any trouble?” Boxster said, finally easing into the purpose of their mission to the large village.
The woman shook her head. “Soldiers in the two armies are all alike. We haven’t had a raid from either side for a few years. The last time a company came through here, none of them made it out of the village. Since then, both armies have stayed away from Peeker’s Flat. I heard the West Moretons were traveling back to their country heading south from east of here, but that still leaves the Presidonians. We are stuck with them forever.”
“We are headed east, so we will take that as a warning,” Boxster said.
Trevor pursed his lips. “No, we aren’t. We are headed west. Lilyton is west, not east,” he said. “You never were good with directions.”
“You don’t look like you’ve been working with him for long,” the woman said to Trevor.
“He is my father’s kid brother,” Trevor said. “I never could relate to my father, so I took up with Uncle Des.”
“And he treats me like I’m the nephew,” Boxster said. “I suppose we won’t be running into the West Moreton army after all.”
“Dinner is when I ring the bell.”
Boxster took an apple from the bowl, and Trevor did the same. “We will take a nap, then. Thanks for lunch,” Boxter said.
The landlady smiled. “My pleasure. You paid for it.”
~
Trevor thought dinner would be a repeat of midday until the inhabitants of the boarding house sat down for dinner.
“Soldiers of fortune. That is what I call you,” a shopkeeper said. “Stay away from either army, Presidon or West Moreton, or you’ll be involuntarily drafted. I’m sure you won’t like that.”
“I would agree,” Boxster said.
The mine owner puffed up his chest. “Presidon is Presidon, right or wrong,” the man said before he leaned forward conspiratorially, “but keep most of your money hidden from the tax collector. King Henry is getting worse and worse every year. He must be a man ruled by greed.”
“West Moreton is morally superior to Presidon,” the schoolmaster said. “They don’t pillage their people like the Presidon army does.”
“So they drift into our country to do their pillaging here,” another unidentified man said. “If they are so perfect in thought and deed, then why have they killed Presidon soldiers on Presidon soil? If you love them so much, head south, schoolmaster.”
The schoolmaster stood up, his face red with indignation. “Can a man share an opinion without being ripped apart?”
“Not when it is treasonous,” the mine owner said.
“And what do you call hiding cash from the royal treasury?” the schoolmaster said.
“Do you want to take this outside?” the mine owner said.
“Certainly. Any old fart can take you on,” the schoolmaster said, stomping out of the dining room. The mining owner followed, and so did the rest of the boarders, leaving Boxster and Trevor looking at each other from across the table.
“More food for us?” Trevor said.
Boxster looked at the food and shrugged. “Eat when you can,” he said before filling his plate again.
The fight didn’t last too long, and when they heard the clomping of boots and more shouting and loudly expressed opinions, Boxster led Trevor upstairs before the men showed up.
“I was hoping for a more sedate conversation from the boarders. I’ve seen pub brawls that took more arguing to get going than what we saw tonight,” Boxster said.
They prepared for bed, but Trevor wasn’t quite ready to retire and pulled out the thicker scout’s journal. He read for a few minutes until he had a comment to share with Boxster, but when he looked across the small room, the ex-sergeant began to snore.
~
Only a few boarders were eating at the breakfast table when Boxster and Trevor entered the room.
“Sorry about last night,” the mine owner said. He sported a black eye and other bruises on his face. “We get a little worked up from time to time. It doesn’t happen often, but talk of Presidon and West Moreton brings out certain emotions in the south.”
“He’s right,” one of the boarders said. “The truth is the Presidon army has a mea
n streak, the king keeps raising taxes, and the West Moretons are running around stirring up trouble. Isn’t that right?” He looked at the mine owner.
“That covers it, Grune,” the mine owner said. “There are Presidon supporters and West Moreton supporters and everything in between in the borderlands.”
“The Red Forest is a borderland?” Trevor asked as he sat down after filling his plate from the breakfast buffet on the sideboard.
“The southern end of it. Washingfalls is the start of borderlands. Red Forest is too far north to be considered so, but Peeker’s Flat is a border town,” Grune said, encouraged by the tolerance shown by the mine owner.
“Washingfalls and Peeker’s Flat are about the same distance south from Tarviston,” Trevor said.
“Size matters. The larger the town, the less it is a border town. Ossingwell, on the border, for example, isn’t a border town, but all villages are border villages from just north of here all the way to West Moreton. The soldiers are less restrained the farther south you go.” Grune said.
“I will agree with that,” the mine owner said.
Trevor gave the men a shrug. “I guess we will find out what kind of town Lilyton is.”
“That one is ruled by a mean lord. It isn’t a border town. It is too strong like Washingfalls. You are headed there to work for the lord?”
Boxster was the one to shrug this time. “We have to eat, but we might be there for a meal or two and then move on. I’m not one to throw my weight around those less fortunate than I am.”
“Then you’ve never served in the royal army,” Grune said.
“Or the West Moreton army,” the mine owner said.
“I would say the army isn’t in my future,” Boxster said.
Trevor almost smiled at Boxster’s evasion.
“I have to leave. I understand you are single nighters?” Grune said.
Boxster snorted. “I suppose that would describe us in the current situation. Thank you for the breakfast table conversation,” he said.
Grune grinned. “You missed a good fight last night.”
The mine owner chuckled and wiped off his mouth. “We can leave together.” He looked at both of them. “Good luck in your travels.”
Boxster and Trevor turned to their breakfast just as the landlady walked into the room.
“You are the last this morning. You’ll have to ride like the wind to reach Lilyton before dark.”
“Dark is fine if the road is good,” Boxster said.
“It is,” the landlady said. “Stay safe, boys. Lilyton isn’t as benign as Peeker’s Flat, but I’m sure you know that.”
“We do now,” Trevor said.
“Hurry and finish so I can get this cleaned up. I have to wash your sheets today.”
Boxster laughed. “Can we strip the beds?”
“You won’t get a no from me,” the landlady said with a pretty smile for Boxster.
They didn’t take long to finish and did as Boxster offered to do, taking their things downstairs and managing a bundle of bedroom linens. Boxster had a few words with the landlady while Trevor fetched the horses. Soon they were saddled up and headed out of town toward Lilyton.
They hadn’t gone more than a mile before they found the northern road on the map and circled back toward the West Moreton encampment.
“Do you think they thought us mercenaries?” Trevor asked as soon as they entered a trail in the woods, not much bigger than two horses walking side by side.
“More so, since you thought to correct me after I gave the woman the wrong direction to Lilyton.”
“At least we can talk more freely,” Trevor said. “I always felt the landlady kept her ear to the door the entire time we were there.”
“She did,” Boxster said. “When you were slumbering, I sought out the washroom and bumped into her scurrying toward the stairway. As soon as our door was shut again, I’m sure she resumed her post. She will know all the secrets of her boarders; of that, I am sure. I might be tempted to do the same thing if I was in her position, all alone in the world.”
“How do you know that?” Trevor asked.
“That is a question I will not answer, and I have spoken all I will on the subject of the landlady.”
Trevor knew Boxster well enough not to pry, and it didn’t take much imagination to deduce there was a little hanky-panky going on between the two of them. Good for Boxster, Trevor thought. Trevor hadn’t hanked or panked in a long while.
If Boxster wanted the subject changed, Trevor would oblige his friend. “When you were fighting the West Moreton army, and I was confined, did you witness the Presidonian army taking privileges they shouldn’t have?”
Boxster nodded. “I intended to get around to talking to you about it. Now is as good a time as any. The men were complaining they had to focus on finding the West Moretons rather than finding a village to prey upon. They were disappointed they couldn’t pillage. Do you find you are living a sheltered life?”
Trevor nodded. “More sheltered than I could ever imagine. General Greenwood told me not to let my troops pillage. I thought it was a universal command. I find it easier to accept my siblings and maybe my father sending out assassins, but my life has always been about living an army life. I had harbored the illusion of protecting the citizens of the kingdom. I wish I didn’t believe Grune or the others, but I could see Sergeant Sender leading soldiers to a village to have some fun. I’m disappointed that many of the men I lived and sparred with in the Tarviston barracks had to have indulged themselves.”
“That they did,” Boxster said. “I imagine they were all commanded to keep that side of the army from you. I was too newly arrived in Presidon to have experienced that aspect of Presidonian soldiering, but I was told not to discuss such things with you.”
“I am embarrassed they were so successful,” Trevor said.
“Don’t be. Everything in the past is experience and learning. You apply that to the future, which starts anew at every eyeblink.”
“Sounds like something Brother Yvan would say.”
“That is who I heard it from not long ago,” Boxster said.
“I miss him. He’s the only one I miss except for Renny, but I’m not sure that Renny wasn’t in on everything. I can’t help but think the family was against me.”
“Not an unreasonable assumption in your case. I would think that anyone else who said something like that was whining, but that isn’t you.”
“One doesn’t have to whine about feeling melancholy.”
“Don’t dwell on it, as I told you.” Boxster said.
“My future starts here and now,” he said, “with this eyeblink.” Trevor blinked his eyes for a lingering moment and opened them, mentally preparing himself for a new life.
Chapter Twenty
~
F inding the West Moreton army wasn’t difficult in the twilight once they found the southern road they had used before. They rode directly past the sentries, who nodded to them, and dismounted in front of Commander Periwinkle’s tent.
“I didn’t expect you to return,” the commander said as he exited the tent with a few of the officers, including Captain Harpy. Periwinkle looked at the captain. “Question them and then return to me. I want them out of the camp by morning.”
The interrogation didn’t take long, but then it looked like Harpy didn’t expect much, although he took detailed notes.
“You will be traveling west to Tipping Vale and then to the border for a visit to Ossingwell before returning. We will be somewhere in the general vicinity of Ossingwell by the time you find us. I would say your mission will take you four or five days. You might have to wait at a spot on the map for another day or two.” Harpy said.
“You have decided to leave Presidon?” Trevor asked.
“That isn’t your concern, Prince Arcwin. Just do your job and show your value.” Harpy waved his notebook. “Your start wasn’t so bad.” The man chuckled. “We had a company following you the whole time.”
They returned to their quarters and found they were still restricted to eating by themselves. Guards still accompanied them around the camp.
“And we decided we deserved two companies to guard us,” Boxster said to Trevor.
“I’m just glad we behaved,” Trevor said. “Why do they guard us in the camp and then let us roam around Red Forest?” Trevor asked. “And why bother with us? If it were me, I might be tempted to put us to death.”
Boxster shrugged. “Obviously they don’t want us talking to the soldiers, but we must be of some worth to someone. I think it is a mystery that needs to be solved.”
Later, just before curfew, Boxster slit a seam and crept out the back of the tent while Trevor was trying to sleep. He knew there was something wrong, but he had no idea what it was. He followed Boxster through the camp as his friend crept toward a group of soldiers talking around the campfire.
While Boxster was listening in, Trevor picked up their voices and dropped his mouth. They were talking about drinking establishments in Tarviston. All the talk was about Presidon, and no one said a word about West Moreton.
Trevor couldn’t believe that Commander Periwinkle and Captain Harpy had tricked them so thoroughly. The West Moreton army was a fake. Boxster turned around.
“You’ve heard enough? Let’s get back.”
They padded back to the tent to find the two guards and Captain Harpy standing inside the tent, lifting the shutter on the lantern as they struggled in through the slit.
“Where have you been?” Harpy said.
Trevor winced at the anger in his voice.
“We wanted a little alone time to relieve ourselves,” Boxster said.
Harpy frowned. “You have undoubtedly learned too much, and that reduces your worth. Commander Periwinkle might have you put to death, after all.”
“That isn’t going to happen,” Boxster said as he rushed the largest guard.
Trevor punched Harpy in the face, surprised that Boxster had committed them to escape. It was their lives for sure, this time. The captain went down, and as he fell back, Trevor pulled out the man’s sword and used it on the remaining guard. He didn’t want to kill Harpy, but the man had threatened them with death, and there was no hint of misdirection in his words.
