by Ann Bakshis
Since David never took the title of king, he’ll be back here. He’s the only one in an adult-sized coffin, as the rest were only infants or young children at their time of passing. I unscrew the bolts, and slide the lid off just enough to see inside, but I don’t find the medallion hidden anywhere on or under his body. When the screws are refastened, I head back to the castle to inform Lycus. He’s upset and insists the entire mausoleum be searched. I tell him it’ll require more men to accomplish such a task. He begrudgingly agrees but informs me that the men must work all day and night looking for it. I pull several men from their duties and task them, as well as myself, with the hunt.
We work tirelessly through the entire day and into the following morning, but the medallion can’t be located. I then send those men off to bed and gather fresh ones, as well as every servant and Vagter, to search every inch of the castle since I know that’s going to be Lycus’ next request. Again nothing. Then it dawns on me. Perhaps David gave one to Elizabeth as a way of marking their child as an heir to the throne. I can’t tell Lycus the truth about David and my sister because it’ll raise too many questions he doesn’t need to know the answers to. What do I tell him?
“It’s gone, Your Majesty,” I inform him the following afternoon. “I believe it may have been stolen by one of the whores Gregor liked to sneak into the castle.”
“Damn it!” Lycus roars. “Then interrogate them… torture them if you have to! I need that medallion!”
“I just came from the village, Your Grace, doing just that,” I say, lying. “None of them have it. However, there is one woman unaccounted for—either alive or dead.”
“And who would that be?”
I swallow the lump in my throat, so I can spit out the words. “A woman by the name of Elizabeth,” I reply.
“Then find her! I want that medallion!” he yells.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
I didn’t want to reveal her name, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. Also, it’ll give me a chance to find her and help keep her safe if Lycus does ever discover the truth. He can have the damn medallion, but I’ll never allow him to harm my sister or her child no matter what it costs me.
Three
Ore
I know it won’t take them long to find me since I’m hiding in my usual spot, sitting on a thick branch of a large oak tree only a few lanes away from the cottage. My back rests against the massive trunk while I close my eyes and listen to the sounds of the birds as they chirp above me. A warm breeze caresses my face as the sun tries to filter through the canopy of the forest I call home. It’s almost summer, which is my favorite time of year. I’ll be able to hunt better game than I can in the winter, peacefully swim in the lagoon a mile over, and cause trouble whenever I can. My mother says I inherited my wild streak from my father, but I only have her word for it since I’ve never met the man.
“Honora, get down here!” Caster bellows up to me from the base of the tree.
“Say my real name and maybe I’ll come down,” I reply, snickering.
“Honora is your real name!” my mother counters.
“You know what I mean,” I say with a hint of sarcasm.
“Just do it,” I hear my mother grumble to Caster.
I can sense his eyes rolling. “Ore, get your ass down here now!” he hollers.
“That’s more like it,” I mutter as I begin my descent.
When I reach the ground, both Caster and my mother glare at me with their arms folded across their chests.
“Are you done messing around for today?” my mother asks, clearly angered by my behavior. “You have training to get to.”
“But there isn’t anything else I need to learn,” I protest as she begins to walk away. “Caster’s already taught me everything I need to know, so why continue hounding me about it?”
“Because if one day you slip up and don’t have a weapon handy, you need to know how to defend yourself,” she says angrily, spinning around and jabbing a finger in my face.
“No one ever bothers us out here, Mom, and the closest civilization is the market five miles to the north,” I retort. “I can take care of myself with what’s around me. You and Caster have made sure of that every day since I can remember.”
“I think you worry too much, Elizabeth,” Caster says. “Ore’s right. She’s a strong woman like her mother. David would be proud of what she’s become.”
With the mention of my father, tears well in my mother’s eyes. I’ve never been told the details of how the two were separated, only that they loved each other very much and it broke both of their hearts to part, but it needed to happen—so I’ve been told. The only thing I have of his is the medallion I wear around my neck, tucked under my blouse. I never take it off since I feel his presence when I have it, which soothes me during moments of distress. I think sometimes he talks to me in my dreams, but that’s all they are… dreams. Caster says I look a lot like him with the exception of my long chestnut hair and piercing green eyes, which I got from my mother.
How I would’ve loved to have known him.
“Fine,” my mother grouses. “Then take her with you. I don’t want her hanging around here unsupervised as I have chores to do and she’d just get in the way.”
“Get ready to go,” Caster tells me.
I make my way to our cottage, a one-story rustic home with two bedrooms, a front room, kitchen, and a bathhouse outside in the back. I share a room with my mother since Caster needs one to himself, so she and I sleep in the one at the back of the house in a queen-sized bed. I’m already wearing my usual garb of brown trousers and a white peasant top, but it’s my breasts and hair that I need to alter. Everyone in the neighboring village know me as Caster’s son, which is why I’m permitted to go with him when he works. Even though I’m just over five-feet-seven, my face makes me look like an adolescent boy. I also don’t need to speak to anyone because they all believe I’m mute. That was my mother’s idea as I could never successfully pull off deepening my voice.
I take off my top, grab a burlap roll off the dresser, and proceed to wrap it around my chest to flatten it. It’s painful since I’m well-endowed and have to plaster them down as tightly as possible. I hate using this stuff, especially in the summer because it causes me to itch when sweat builds underneath the burlap. Once the roll is set, I put my top on and go over to the mirror that stands in the corner of the room. I refuse to cut my hair, even though both Caster and my mother have insisted, so I have to braid my long hair before tucking it under a hat with a wide brim that covers most of my face, to add to my disguise. No one really gets up close to me, so I don’t worry too much about being discovered. Also, Caster never lets me leave his side or sight when I’m with him.
I’d hate to think what would happen if everyone found out I was a female. All I know is that they’d never trust Caster again and we can’t afford for that to happen.
I meet Caster outside. He helps me mount the lone horse we have, then gets on in front of me. My mother watches us as we head down the lane then cut west over to the main road that’ll take us straight into the village of Nysa, a hamlet close to the southeastern border of the Kingdom of Pelheim. It’ll take us almost a half hour to reach the village at full speed on the old mare. Before we officially enter the village though, Caster stops the horse so I can make any necessary adjustments to my disguise, since things have a tendency to shift while traveling.
He then directs us through the square and over to a bakery that’s being repaired from a fire that happened several weeks ago. I dismount before he does and keep my head down as both he and my mother have instructed.
“Morning, Caster,” an older gentleman says, shaking Caster’s hand. “I see you brought your son with you today.”
“I hope that’s all right.”
“Not a problem. We could use him to haul away the debris.”
Caster gestures for me to pick up one of the buckets loaded with charred wood and dump it along the tree li
ne several lanes away. I make sure not to make eye contact with anyone and work until I feel like I’m about to break. I will say with all the manual labor I do I’ve developed a nice physique and strong muscles that I otherwise might not have. It makes hunting and training a lot easier.
At the end of the day I’m paid for my efforts along with everyone else, then Caster and I return to the cottage where my mother has dinner waiting for us. She chides us both for smelling like burnt refuse, so after we eat, I take a quick bath and head off to bed. It’s not long after that I feel my mother crawl in beside me and I’m asleep before she blows out the candle on the nightstand.
The following morning, I take the money I earned and head to a market several miles north of the village to avoid those who may recognize my face, wearing more traditional attire of a dress with a hem that dusts the ground, has short sleeves, and a bodice that makes me self-conscious about my chest. I purchase some freshly baked bread, soap for the bathhouse, and a couple of apples to eat on the walk home. Caster took the horse this morning and returned to the bakery, but the stench of burnt lumber for one day was enough to turn me away until he finds work elsewhere.
After I leave the market, I take a detour towards a small hidden lagoon because I don’t feel cleansed enough from yesterday’s rushed bath. The air is warm, but I know the water will have a slight chill to it from the winter runoff. I’ve never seen anyone come out this way in all the years I’ve been sneaking into the body of water. I’m not even sure Caster and my mother know it exists because if they did, I’d be banned from it. As I get closer to the lagoon, I carefully survey my surroundings, making sure there isn’t anyone in sight before proceeding to the lone willow tree that rests along the lagoon’s western banks. Cattails and tall, stiff grasses cover the rim of the water, blocking it from sight of the lane. The only reason I know this precious body of water exists is from hunting wild game in the area. I place my purchases under the drooping branches of the tree, strip down to nothing with the exception of a leather sheath that holds my beloved hunting knife I keep strapped around the outside of my thigh, and slowly enter the water.
My teeth begin to chatter from the cold, but I push myself out into the center where I splash around for a few minutes before lying on my back and stare up at the bright blue sky. I close my eyes to listen to the trees as the slight breeze rustles through their branches. Birds chirp off in the distance and even though my exposed skin is prickling I feel at peace. My mind wanders to thoughts of what it’d be like to be on my own, to go about the village as myself and not masquerade as Caster’s son. I want to ask questions about my father since I’m eager to learn more about him, but I know answers won’t be provided to me because it seems to cause everyone too much pain.
“Ahem,” a deep voice says from out of nowhere.
I falter under the water as I’m startled by the sudden intrusion, then bob my head up just enough to see who’s bothering me. A tall young man I’ve never seen before is standing beside the willow tree, leaning against its cracked bark. His brown hair brushes his ears and the muscles under his shirt cause the material to stretch beyond comfort. He’s wearing brown leather pants, a dark green top, and carrying a rucksack across his chest.
“What the hell,” I say as I spit out water I’d swallowed when I went under. “Don’t scare people like that. Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners?”
“Yes, which is why I made my presence known so you could cover yourself,” he replies, then smiles.
“How long have you been standing there before you said something?”
“Long enough,” he says, chuckling. “I’ve never seen you around here before.”
“I can say the same thing about you,” I say as I continue to bob up and down in the increasingly cold water.
“You look like you’re freezing. Why don’t you come out of there?”
“Go away and maybe I will,” I respond.
“I’ve already seen what you have to offer, so it shouldn’t matter now anyway.”
“Who the hell do you think I am? Some prostitute from the main town?” I holler in disgust, which only causes him to laugh harder.
“No, of course not. I know them all and you’re definitely not one of them.”
“You’re sick,” I chide.
“I’m not the one naked in a lagoon talking to a stranger, but we don’t have to continue being strangers if you tell me your name,” he says with a genuine smile.
“Sorry, that’s not going to happen,” I reply. “Now if you’ll kindly go away so I can get out before I die from pneumonia that would be most helpful.”
“Suit yourself,” he says, then steps away from the tree and heads down the lane.
I wait until he’s out of sight before swimming to shore and drying myself off with the hem of my dress. I’ve put everything back on and am in the process of slipping on my shoes when someone taps me on the shoulder. I quickly slip my hand under my dress and remove the hunting knife. When I turn to confront the person, I discover it’s the same young man from only a few moments ago, carrying a heavy blanket in his hands.
“I thought you might want this,” he says, holding it out to me while my knife is only inches from his throat.
“Where’d you get it?” I ask, still grasping my weapon tightly.
“From my horse,” he replies. “I figured you’d need it to help warm up after you got out of the lagoon.”
I hesitantly take the blanket from him and wrap it around my body, as my teeth chatter, but I don’t relinquish the knife.
“Good to know a young woman like you can take care of herself way out here,” he says, nodding to the blade.
“What brings you by this location?” I ask, my eyes boring into his deep blue ones.
“I’m traveling around the kingdom for the summer and Nysa is one of my stops. I was in the market when you caught my attention, so I needed to know where you were going.”
“Why?” I ask, cautious about his intentions.
He chuckles. “You’re not used to compliments, are you?”
I don’t respond as I’m too mesmerized by his kind and gentle manner, but I can’t allow myself to get pulled into someone as it’ll lead to my demise—at least that’s what my mother has always drilled into my head.
“My name’s Evan,” he says, holding out his hand.
I have to give up my knife to return the gesture because my other hand is clutching the blanket tightly around my shivering frame. “I’m Ore,” I say after setting the weapon down on my packages.
“What kind of name is that?” he asks with a contagious smile. “Is it short for something?”
“Perhaps,” I reply.
“So, what do I need to do for you to tell me what it is?”
“Give me a ride home.”
“Sure. My horse is just this way.”
I finish putting on my shoes, hand the blanket back to Evan, and pick up my purchases though I keep the knife handy as a precaution. His horse is tied to a tree a quarter-mile down the lane. Evan takes my parcels and places them into a saddlebag. I secure the knife into its sheath before he helps me up. I hold the damp blanket for him while he mounts, then direct him where to go. I know what my mother is going to say if she’s home when I return. Hopefully Caster can reason with her later tonight, but sometimes I can’t tell whose side he’s actually on. Lately it’s been mine, but that’s a new development now that I’ve gotten older.
Evan takes his time meandering through the trees and down the various lanes needed to reach the cottage, and we arrive twenty minutes later. He dismounts, then helps me down from the saddle, holding me firmly around the waist.
“Do I get that name now?” he asks, releasing me and removing my packages from his bag.
“Honora!” my mother yells though she’s only a few feet away. “Get in this house now!”
“Well, there you have it. The awful truth of who I am.”
“Why don’t you like your name?” he asks with
sincerity. “I think it’s beautiful.”
“Honora, now!”
“Thank you for the ride,” I say, tucking my head down as I scamper away.
I feel him watching me as I hurry to the front door, which my mother has propped open, then he mounts his horse and leaves in the direction we came from. I head into the kitchen and set my parcels on the table and before my mother can open her mouth I start.
“I know,” I say, sounding bitter. “You’re going to tell me that I was reckless. That you and Caster didn’t raise me to be like that and how my father sacrificed his love for you to protect me. I know all of it, Mother, but there are just some things I need to figure out on my own.”
“But you’re only seventeen, Honora,” she whines. “I’m not ready for this.”
“What if I am?” I ask, turning to face her. “You told me when I was little how you and Dad knew the minute you saw each other as children that all you wanted was to be together. Why is it so difficult for you to let me experience that kind of existence for once in my life?”
“Is that how you feel about the young man who brought you home?” she asks, astonished.
“No, of course not. But I’ll never know what it’s like if you keep me trapped in the cottage and in the woods. You’re letting your fear control our lives and that’s no way to live.”
“You’re so much like your father,” she says as tears well in her eyes while the back of her hand caresses my cheek. “I need time, Honora. Please, just give me time to figure this out before you do anything rash.”
