“Hey! Leave my sister alone!” a voice shouted. A small figure dashed out of the darkness, running into the group of men, knocking one of them to the ground. The would-be rescuer grabbed the girl and pushed her away from the circling men. Without hesitation, she dashed away into the darkness.
The man who had fallen staggered back to his feet, cursing as he did so. Dismay covered Jorem’s face as he recognized the voice as that of his older brother, Daniel. As a group, his brothers turned on the intruder. They were angry and drunk. This man, boy really, for he was no bigger than Jorem, had ruined their fun. They meant to make him pay.
The boy hadn’t a chance as they attacked him. The grunts of pain seared into Jorem’s mind as he watched his brothers kick and pummel their victim. The distinct sound of a bone breaking followed by another drove Jorem out of the shock that held him frozen in place. He had to stop them. He had to at least try.
Jorem had taken no more than two steps toward his brothers when a group of armed men came rushing out of the darkness. The men drove his brothers away from the boy who now lay curled up on the ground. Fear rose in Jorem as he approached. No longer fear of his brothers, but fear for his brothers. Instead of watching his brothers viciously beat the young boy, would he now watch his brothers die for their mindless attack?
“Ben!” a high-pitched voice screamed.
Again Jorem found himself unable to move as the rescued girl ran to the injured boy and collapsed beside him. Suddenly there were people everywhere. They came pouring out of all of the buildings. Many were carrying torches and lanterns lighting up the bizarre scene like some ghoulish nightmare.
“What goes on here?” The King’s voice boomed over the babble of the crowd.
All voices were stilled as the King approached, the sound of his steps firm as he walked into the scene. One person began telling what had happened then another and another until so many were speaking that nothing could be understood. The King held up his hands for silence and slowly the crowd quieted.
“Those of you who are not involved in this, unless you can stand as witness to the events, return to your homes.” The King’s voice brooked no argument, yet still many remained. “Any who remain will be detained and questioned by the royal guard.”
At that pronouncement most everyone returned to the homes from which they had come. Jorem watched them as they passed by. He could see anger in many of their faces. He noticed that although most of the people went into their houses or into the inn, a few stood in the shadows just close enough to see and hear what happened. These few would likely report to the rest later.
Jorem quietly walked over to the boy who lay crumpled upon the ground. The boy looked to be about Jorem’s age though he had a much stockier build. The innkeeper knelt by the boy’s side. Gently the small man ran his hands along the boy’s arms and legs. The girl, the boy’s sister, and a woman that must be the boy’s mother, also knelt by the boy. The boy’s skin was ashen and he lay as still as death.
“Is he?” the question choked in Jorem’s throat.
The innkeeper looked up at Jorem, his face grim. “It’s not good. His injuries are severe. I think he will live, but it will be months, maybe years before he fully recovers.
“What about a healer?” Jorem asked.
“We have no healer. Besides, a healer can only do so much,” said the innkeeper, shaking his head. “There hasn’t been a healer in the kingdom with the power to fix something like this in a long time.”
The innkeeper looked over at the armed men surrounding the sons of the King and his face clouded with anger. “I’ve seen wars start for less than this. The Duke’s son, Pertheron, may not settle for anything less.” Looking up, the innkeeper asked, “You saw what happened?”
“I saw,” Jorem whispered. His head hung low with the knowledge that he had done nothing to stop his brothers. “I should have done something to stop them but I… I didn’t.
“There’s nothing you could have done,” the innkeeper counseled. “Likely, they would have done the same to you. Best you go tell the King what you saw. Send some of those guardsmen to help us move Ben here to the inn. The sooner we start putting him back together, the better.”
As Jorem turned to walk over to the King, three men on horses rode up to the King and dismounted. Two of the men were heavily armed and armored. The third wore a deep blue robe and a coronet encircled the flaming red hair on his head. This would be the Duke of Broughbor.
Four men stood in a circle facing one anther as Jorem approached. The King looked angry yet defeated. The Duke listened intently to what the others had to say. A tall man, likely the Duke’s son Pertheron judging by his features and red hair, was gesturing and arguing. The fourth man was barrel-chested and stood quietly with his arms folded across his chest.
“There is no excuse,” snarled Pertheron. “Can you really expect us to ignore what they have done? They must be punished for what they did to Ben. The law must apply to all men, even those who would call themselves prince.”
“You’ve let those boys run wild for too long,” the Duke said in a deep, calm voice. “It’s time you reined them in and taught them some discipline. What do you intend to do?”
The King stood silent for a while then heaved a great sigh. He stood tall and straight as he looked the Duke in the eyes. “I’m going to do what I should have done years ago. I’m going to turn them over to someone who lives and breathes discipline, Weapons Master Gregorio. They will be in his charge until such time as he deems them fit to return to the castle. They won’t be considered princes of the realm until they have proven themselves worthy of the role. They may be the heirs to the throne, but they won’t be enjoying any of the privileges.”
The Duke seemed satisfied with the King’s decision and his son grudgingly agreed. The fourth man, however, did not seem content. Although he was shorter than the other three men, it would have taken all three of them to match him in breadth. When he braced his hands on his hips, he looked very much like the trunk of a massive oak tree.
“Begging your pardon, your majesty,” the big man said, his voice so deep it startled Jorem. “Young Ben is more’n my son, he’s my apprentice. Biorne there says the boy should recover but it could be a year or better afore he’ll be back to working the forge. Proper smithin’ takes two an there’s none in Broughbor that’s willin’ to do the work. Law says yer kin’s gotta compensate for my loss. One o’ yer boys there, they gotta take Ben’s place till he’s better.”
“I’ll not have any of ‘them’ anywhere near Jannett!” Pertheron snapped.
“Now son,” the Duke started to say.
“No, Father,” Perth said heatedly. “You saw what they did to Ben. What would they have done to Jannett if he hadn’t gotten her away from them?”
“Now see here!” the King blustered. “Those are my sons you’re talking about!”
The four of them all started talking at once. None of them were listening to the others. Each of them was trying to be heard above the others. Jorem could feel the eyes of the townspeople watching them. He could still see the anger in their faces, the tears in Ben’s mother’s eyes.
That’s when he remembered what he had been trying to recall earlier. He had read it in one of Pentrothe’s history books, but hadn’t understood it until now.
“How the people of the land view their leaders will determine the destiny of that land. One act, be it for good or ill, if it be such that it sways the will of the people, can make or destroy any governing body.”
Jorem understood it now. He could see it happening right in front of him. If this situation got out of hand the anger of these people would spread. This could be the beginning of the end of the Kingdom. As he watched the four men arguing, something that Pentrothe had told him came to his mind. “Just as a small stone can change the course of a mighty river, the right person in the right place at the right time can change the course of history.”
Before he thought about the consequences or
allowed himself to change his mind Jorem pushed his way into the middle of the arguing men. His action was so sudden and such a surprise that all four men took an involuntary step back. It took a moment for the King to realize who it was that had interrupted them. Jorem could feel the searing heat of the King’s glare.
“Jorem!” The anger in the King’s voice caused Jorem to flinch. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Turning towards the King, Jorem gritted his teeth in determination. From the corner of his eye he could see that the Duke’s personal guard had drawn their swords and started to advance. Raising his hand to show that he was not armed, Jorem gathered what courage he could find and put his thoughts into words.
“Father,” he spoke as clearly as he could to be sure he was not misunderstood, “I will stay. One of us must stay. We are not above the law. I won’t be missed at home. You know that I won’t. Let me do this. Let me make it right.”
There was silence for a moment and then the King said, “Jorem, you had nothing to do with this. Go back to the inn.”
“I was there Father. I was there and I didn’t even try to stop them. I should have tried.” Jorem held his Father’s gaze and slowly clenched his hands into fists. “I should have tried and I didn’t. I need to pay for that Father.”
“Young man,” the Duke interrupted, “I can see that you’re willing, but a smith’s tasks are hard work. Maybe when you’ve put some meat on your bones you could be of help, but”
Jorem was just opening his mouth to argue his point with the Duke when he felt hands settle on his shoulders. Looking over his shoulder he saw Jacobs standing behind him. Jacobs stood tall and proud, this eyes locked on those of the Duke.
“Rodney,” Jacobs said, “Prince Jorem is a fine young man. You give him a task and he’ll do it, or break himself trying.”
As Jacobs spoke the Duke’s eyes grew wide. “Cobren?” the Duke gasped.
The corner of Jacob’s mouth twitched but his gaze held steady. “Jorem says he needs to do this; I say you let him.”
The Duke took a moment to regain his composure and then nodded to Jorem. “That’s good enough for me. Majesty, what say you?”
The King stood contemplating Jorem for a moment before replying. “So be it,” he said with a sigh. Then without hesitation he barked, “Captain, confine those four to their rooms.”
They stood and watched as the four brothers were herded back to the inn. Being held at sword point had apparently sobered them a little bit as they managed not to stagger on their way to the inn. The King stood staring after them in silence. The door to the inn closed and the King sighed again.
“Under the circumstances,” he said, turning to the Duke, “I think it would be best if my sons and I returned to the capital. There’s no point in dragging this mess into the knighting of your son.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” the Duke replied. “I’ll have my quartermaster send down supplies first thing in the morning.”
The King nodded acceptance of the service. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, it’s been a long day and I’m very tired.” Without so much as looking at Jorem, the King turned and strode back to the inn.
The Duke watched the King as he left. He glanced back at Jorem and a look of concern crossed his face. “You are the King’s son, aren’t you?”
Jorem felt a reassuring squeeze on his shoulders. “Yes sir, I’m Jorem, last born of Queen Tervena.”
Understanding came to the eyes of the Duke. “She was a fine queen, always caring for the less fortunate. Well, that’s neither here nor there. If you’re going to be staying for a while, you might as well come along up to the keep so we can find a place for you.”
Jorem saw the disgruntled look on the face of the blacksmith. It wasn’t difficult to see why he would be unhappy about him staying at the keep. The time it would take to travel from the keep to here and back again would cut into the time he spent with the smith, even more so if he ate his meals at the keep. No, staying with the Duke was not an option if he was to do right by the blacksmith.
“Thanks for the offer sir,” Jorem said, “but I think it would be better if I stayed here. I should be on hand whenever the smith needs me. Perhaps you could arrange for a room here at the inn.”
The Duke scratched his chin as he thought about the idea. “I don’t have a problem with you staying here, but I’m not so sure the King will allow it.”
“We could assign him a room in the officers’ wing,” Perth suggested. “Whether or not he uses it would be his own choice.”
The Duke smiled at his son. “An excellent idea. If anyone asks,” the Duke said to Jorem, “you’re staying at the keep. Where you choose to sleep is entirely your own affair. Perth, would you have one of your men make the arrangements with Biorne?” Then the Duke turned to the blacksmith, “Will this be satisfactory to you, Franks?”
The blacksmith still didn’t look very pleased with the situation and said, “Can’t say as I’m happy ‘bout getting the runt o’ the litter, but I suppose ‘tis better than nothing.” Looking at Jorem, he said, “Y’be at the smithy first thing in the morning.” Then the blacksmith left to check on his son.
Meanwhile, the Duke’s son had turned and walked over to the men that had first arrived to rescue Ben. After a brief discussion one of the men jogged over to the inn and slipped inside. A moment later he reappeared and rejoined the group of men. Perth waved to his Father then he and the men with him disappeared into the darkness.
“I see you still have the night watchers active,” Jacobs said. “Perth’s a good choice to lead them. I’ve never seen anyone that can handle a sword the way he does.”
The Duke looked at Jacobs warily. “How long have you been with the King, Cob?”
“Long enough, Rod, long enough.” Jacobs had an odd glint in his eyes when he replied. “You take care and say hi to Pat for me.”
“I’ll do that,” the Duke said as he turned and walked to where his personal guards held the horses. They mounted and rode off without another word.
Totally bewildered by the conversation he had just heard, Jorem turned to Jacobs. “You call the Duke ‘Rod’? And who in blazes is Cob?”
“Let’s just say that the Duke and I go way back and leave it at that. More than that, you’re better off not knowing, for now at least.” Jacobs reached out and ruffled Jorem’s hair. “You take care lad. With luck, we’ll meet up again some day. I’d best report to the captain that you’ll be residing at the inn. Even if the King thinks you’re at the keep, it would be best for someone to know where to find you.”
Jacobs left him there in the darkness. The stars still twinkled up in the sky and the breeze still ruffled the leaves, but somehow it was different. Maybe it was just that his toes were growing numb with the cold, but something felt different.
Chapter XIII
Jorem woke early the next morning. He wanted to make a good impression with the blacksmith, so he quickly dressed and headed for the common room. When he got there, he found a large pot of some brownish, bubbling paste hanging over the fire. He leaned over the pot and sniffed, trying to discern what it was.
“Best eat something,” a voice said behind him.
Jorem jumped at the sound. He had thought he was alone, but when he turned around he saw two of the royal guardsmen. They were sitting in a shadowed corner making them almost impossible to see.
“Good…,” Jorem’s voice squeaked out. “Good morning.”
“The chow’s good an filling,” said the guard on the right. “If you’re going to be working in a smithy, you’d best get your fill. It’s hard work and it lasts all day long.”
Dishing up a bowl of the gooey stuff, Jorem sat down and cautiously put a spoonful in his mouth. He recognized the flavors of the oats, nuts and what was likely honey, but there were spices and subtle hints of flavors that he had never tasted. Before he new it, he was scraping the bottom of the bowl with his spoon. He thought about having another bowl, but realized
that he was quite full. Standing up, he turned to head out the door. Before he was halfway across the floor one of the guardsman hailed him.
“Before you go, Jacobs said to give this to you. Something about you needing working clothes and such.”
As the guard spoke he tossed something small and shiny to Jorem. Catching it, Jorem found that it was a coin, a gold crown. This was enough to feed and clothe a family for a year. Surely a set of work clothes wouldn’t cost this much.
The guard noticed Jorem’s confusion and added, “Winters get mighty cold this high up. See that you have plenty of warm clothes as well.”
Jorem nodded to the guard and headed out the door, carefully placing the coin in his pocket. The sun was not yet showing above the peaks as Jorem stepped out the door. After allowing his eyes time to adjust to the dim light of dawn, he headed off toward the blacksmith shop. It wasn’t far to go and, following the directions the innkeeper had given him last night, wasn’t hard to find.
Having never been to a blacksmith’s shop, Jorem wasn’t sure what to expect. The building he approached didn’t appear to be very large. It was a wooden structure and bits of light shone through the slats of the walls and the frame of the door. The door didn’t have a handle, just a rope with a knot in the end. When he opened the door a wave of heat struck him with such force he gasped.
The room was a clutter of benches, barrels and a tangle of what looked like farming equipment. One end of the room was filled with a large brick column. In the center of the room was a table made of brick with a fire pit in the center of its top. The other end of the room was covered with mounds of rocks and scraps of metal. Everything was covered with a thick layer of black dust.
Jorem stepped into the room but saw no sign of the blacksmith. Waves of heat radiated from the pit in the table centered in the room. Wisps of smoke rose from the pit into a large, upside down funnel that hung suspended from the ceiling. Jorem peered into the pit and was surprised to see that it contained rocks. The rocks were splotched with gray and black on the top, but underneath they glowed a sullen orange with bits of flame flickering here and there.
HONOR BOUND (The Spare Heir) Page 9
