“He told me. He’s very lonely – and he’s so thin! He doesn’t say much about his life at home but I can tell he’s not happy. He draws beautiful clothing designs and he’s desperate to learn tailoring. I’m sure he would work very hard.”
Menders nodded. So far, so good.
“How long have you known young Borsen?”
“A year now, since he started coming to school. He thinks he’s twelve, but he’s not sure. He’s tiny, even though he’s Thrun, more the size of the eight year olds. He’s very quiet and good and never gets in trouble. He’s smart but has trouble with schoolwork.”
Suddenly Menders remembered the essay Eiren had shown him.
“The boy who wrote the essay about the marble statue?” he asked.
“Yes, he’s the one.”
Menders nodded, thinking. The boy had an original turn of mind. No dullard could have written that touching little essay.
“Do you know anything about his parents?” he asked.
Katrin shook her head. “Borsen doesn’t talk much,” she explained.
“Well then, change out of your beautiful ballgown and we’ll ride over to the school and have a word with your friend. If he wants to be apprenticed, I can speak to his parents and see what can be done,” Menders smiled. Katrin jumped up, hugged him hard and fled upstairs, where she could be heard banging her wardrobe door around and pulling on her riding boots.
As they rode up to the school, the door opened and waves of children poured out, as the school now served over sixty pupils from the ages of five to sixteen.
Menders saw a group of large boys clustered at the side of the steps leading down from the main door. He watched idly but then sprang off Demon’s back as he saw them deliberately thrusting a stick under the feet of a small boy. The child tumbled down the flight of four stone steps, landing face down in the dirt.
Katrin bounded off of her farlin and raced over to the big boys. Their nasty glee over the injury they’d done to their victim dissipated as the Princess of Mordania confronted them.
“I know each and every one of you!” she roared. “Don’t you dare try to run away! You think you’re so brave, hurting someone smaller than you, so just stand there now and take what’s coming! Menders is Master of The Shadows and he will deal with you!”
One of the boys, the oldest and tallest, raised a hand as if to strike Katrin. She glared at him defiantly.
“Goren, no!” hissed another boy, grabbing at the first boy’s sleeve. “She’s the Princess! White Eyes will kill us!”
Eiren ran out of the schoolhouse door, followed by a rawboned, thin young woman Menders recognized as the daughter from the Polzen freeholding. Eiren dropped to her knees in the dust by the fallen child.
“Borsen, are you hurt?” Eiren asked. Menders saw that Katrin had the instigators of the incident cornered, cowering and obviously going nowhere, so he knelt by the child as well.
He lifted the boy’s face to his.
My Gods, it’s me, he thought, taking in the frail form, pale face and large Thrun eyes. Aylam Josirus all over again, small, weak and tormented. There were tears in the boy’s eyes but he swallowed repeatedly, refusing to let them fall. How well Menders remembered doing that.
“Don’t try to sit up yet,” Menders said quietly. “Not until I’ve seen if you have anything broken. Can you feel your feet? Move them – good. Now, can you feel your hands? Wiggle your fingers for me. Good boy. Anything hurt?”
“All over,” Borsen said softly. “No one place.”
The Polzen girl, who had been quivering with rage as she knelt beside Borsen, stood abruptly, eyes blazing and began striding the direction of the three louts. Menders caught her wrist, shaking his head when she turned to glare at him. She knelt by the Borsen again.
“After a fall like that, you’ll be very sore,” Menders said kindly. “Now, Eiren and I are going to help you roll onto your back. You just lie there for a while. Would you bring some water, please?” he said to the Polzen girl and then nodded to Eiren. Together they turned the little body.
Borsen winced but did not cry out. Menders was relieved. There was no serious damage, though Borsen’s hands were deeply scraped from his attempt to break the fall. He settled the small dark head against Eiren’s thigh, rose and strode over to where Katrin was holding the three big boys at bay.
“You miserable bastards,” he said quietly, glaring at them over his glasses. “It takes a true coward to hurt someone that small and frail.” He called to Eiren, never taking his eyes off his quarry.
“Do any of these boys pay tuition?”
“No. All of them are here through your patronage,” Eiren answered. “I expelled them yesterday. They’re banned from school grounds.”
Menders’ turned back to the cowering boys. “I don’t want people like you around the children who come here. Your parents will hear from me, and they will know exactly why you have been expelled. I hope your fun was worth losing the chance for schooling. You probably won’t enjoy spending the rest of your lives shoveling shit. Perhaps I’ll tell your parents I’ve gotten you commissions in the 35th Infantry. Mordania needs cowards. After all, we have to give the enemy something to shoot at. Now, get out of here and don’t come back.”
They fled. Menders put an arm around Katrin’s shoulders.
“I’m proud of you, Little Princess. Now, let’s go see to your friend.”
“One of them was going to hit me but the others stopped him. I was going to let him. I wasn’t afraid.”
“Oh did he?” Menders said, glancing at the fleeing boys and filing the information away for later reference.
Borsen was sitting upright now, still very rattled. Katrin crouched beside him. Eiren had bathed the scrapes on his hands and Varnia Polzen had gathered his scattered books and papers.
“Now then, how to get you home?” Menders said, bending over him. “Where do you live?”
“About two miles from here,” Borsen whispered. “I can walk home now.”
“No, my boy,” Menders said firmly. “Perhaps you could, but I shan’t let you, not after a fall like that.” He looked up at Eiren.
“I want to speak to his mother,” she said. He could see she was trembling and shaken. Katrin was still furious. The Polzen girl drew in quick little breaths through nostrils that were tightly pinched with tension and rage. Menders understood why they were upset but the last thing Borsen needed was more emotion flying around. He was desperately trying not to cry.
Menders beckoned to Eiren and walked her away from the young people.
“Why don’t you let me drive him in the cart?” he suggested. “You ride Trouble home. Katrin can manage Demon. I’ll explain things to his mother. He’s already overwrought and Katrin’s so angry she’ll just upset him further.”
Eiren began to protest, but he laid a finger on her lips.
“I want to see if this boy would like to be apprenticed to Tomar,” he explained. “It would be a good situation for him. If he’s amenable, I’ll bring it up to his parents.”
“It would be salvation for him,” Eiren said. “All right, I’ll leave him to you.”
They returned to the youngsters.
“Borsen, Menders is the Master at The Shadows,” Eiren said gently. “He’ll drive you home in my cart. He’d like to assure your parents that no more harm will come to you here. Is that all right with you?”
“Yes.” Menders saw that Borsen seemed relieved. He’d been right in assuming the overwhelmed boy needed no more emotional display, no matter how heartfelt.
Katrin began to protest but Menders looked at her and shook his head. She didn’t understand, but nodded silently.
“Now then,” Menders said, helping Borsen up, “let’s get you home.”
Menders didn’t press the child for conversation for the first half mile, letting Rosie jog along lazily. By the end of the next half mile, he knew that being companionably quiet was doing what he expected. Borsen suddenly put his head down on his knees and b
egan to cry. Menders could hear that there was relief in the outburst.
When the worst of it passed, Menders drew up under a shady tree and waited for Borsen to look up.
“You know, when I was your age, I was just as small as you are,” he said conversationally. “I also had a very difficult time when I was a boy.”
That did it. Borsen slid across to him, burying his face in Menders’ shirt front. Menders put his arms around the fragile child and let him cry, remembering how Tharan-Tul had done just this, letting Aylam Josirus cry out all the pain and fear in his heart without chiding him to stop. Menders could still remember how clean and clear his mind had felt afterward.
Soon the sobbing quieted and Borsen was still. Menders patted his shoulder gently and supplied a clean handkerchief. Though tear streaked and weary, Borsen’s face no longer had that pinched look of a child trying to stay in control of himself.
“Katrin and I came to the school to speak to you,” Menders said. “She told me you’d like to be apprenticed to a tailor.”
The boy nodded slowly, his huge dark eyes riveted on Menders.
“Well, we have a tailor at The Shadows who’s about to die of overwork,” Menders continued. “Would you be interested in being apprenticed to him? His name is Tomar Fersten. He’s very skilled and he’s a most kindly man, with a family of his own.”
“Yes, please,” Borsen whispered. His small hands were shaking and he began to wring them nervously. They were thin as bird’s claws. His arms were emaciated. Menders could feel the jut of a swollen belly against his side where the little fellow was leaning against him, and ground his teeth in rage. The child was starved.
“All right then, but we must ask your parents,” Menders said, keeping his voice measured and calm. Borsen nodded. Menders took up the reins again and clucked to Rosie, who started out once more.
After another quarter mile, Borsen spoke abruptly. “My parents won’t care. My father hates me. He’ll be glad to see me gone.”
“I see,” Menders answered unemotionally, as if they were discussing the weather. “Well, if that’s how things are, it’s just as well you get started on your own life. My own father hated me, so I know what it’s like. I went to military school when I was eleven and that’s when my life started to be good.”
He heard a little sigh of relief beside him and smiled.
Half an hour later, Borsen’s pitifully small box of belongings was in the cart with them as they drove back toward The Shadows. Menders was furious, but showed nothing to Borsen, who seemed unaffected by his parents’ immediate acceptance of Menders’ offer and their insistence that he take Borsen with him immediately. They showed no concern over where he was going or what sort of people he would be living among. It was obvious that Borsen’s father, a large, fullblood Thrun who certainly didn’t share the emaciation of his eldest son, despised the boy. The woman with him only shrugged, looking at the floor.
Menders offered to bring Borsen home for his rest days and made it clear his family was welcome to visit him at The Shadows. In response the father turned away, opening a bottle of wine, while the woman picked up a grubby baby and began to nurse it. Borsen got his things and left without a word.
Katrin met them as they drove up in front of The Shadows.
“I fixed up an apartment for you,” Katrin said to Borsen, showing him two rooms on the first floor near the Family Wing. When she went for water for the washstand, Menders took the opportunity to speak privately to the boy, who seemed completely flabbergasted and kept touching the bed hangings with wonder.
“Borsen, I want you to understand that you are under my protection,” Menders told him gently. “You will come to no harm here. If anyone ever tries to hurt you again, you are to come to me, and I will help you. This is your home. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mister Menders.”
“Just Menders. We’re very informal here. The Princess is Katrin, my wife is Eiren. Now, let Katrin get you settled and show you around, and then later I’ll introduce you to Tomar. You can get started tomorrow, if you like.”
Borsen grinned suddenly. His face changed from pinched to elfin in an instant. Menders couldn’t help grinning back.
“I’m glad to have you here, Borsen,” Menders said, extending a hand for the boy to shake. “Tonight you’re getting thrown in at the deep end because it’s family dinner, which means that there will be thirty-eight people in the dining room at once. Do you think you will be comfortable with that?”
After a moment’s thought, the little boy smiled and nodded.
Katrin came back with the water and asked Borsen if he wanted to see the rest of the house. He nodded and grinned again, and the two of them rushed out eagerly.
***
If a hawk turned into a woman it would look like Varnia Polzen, Menders thought as he studied the young woman standing stiffly before him. She was sharp featured and dark, with large grey eyes that could only be described as piercing. It was obvious that she seldom, if ever, smiled. Tall and thinner than she could be, she possessed a wiriness that indicated strength most people would not expect.
The Polzen farm was grimly familiar to Menders – a freehold, rare in the district where most were tenant farmers on The Shadows and other estates. It was bleak, windswept and unfruitful. Mister Polzen, the owner, was a dour and callous man, rendered uncaring by years of failure. Indifferent to the suffering of others, he was uncaring toward his livestock and family.
There were a number of sons who worked the farm, all unschooled, near-savage boys, and the one girl, Varnia. Polzen’s wife had died some years back, leaving then ten-year old Varnia to do all the woman’s work on the place, toiling endlessly and desperately to keep up with the heavy chores. She rose hours before sunrise to have the work finished so she could attend Eiren’s school, where she was an average but diligent student.
She had just completed her final school year and would be doomed to a miserable spinsterhood on the grim landholding unless she married. Her looks were not the type to catch a man’s eye quickly. Or, perhaps, at all, Menders thought regretfully.
Varnia had been protective toward Borsen when he began attending school. More than once Eiren had barely averted an outright brawl when Borsen was harassed and Varnia would rise, fists clenched, ready to hurl herself at his tormentors. Though fierce and taciturn, the young woman was tender and kindly toward the little boy.
Now, a week after Borsen was apprenticed at The Shadows, Varnia had appeared and asked to speak to Menders. Attired in a severe grey dress, her hair tightly coiled in a knot at the nape of her neck, she initially refused a chair and only consented to be seated after handing Menders several letters of recommendation.
“I’m here to apply for employment, Mister Menders” she said crisply. “I’ve had seven years’ experience running a household. I will be willing to accept any form of domestic work.”
Menders leafed through the letters. They were from various people in the district who apparently knew Varnia Polzen and could attest to her diligence and character. He let his mind whirl into action as he scanned the letters.
“What of your own family?” he inquired.
“They’ll manage,” Varnia replied, without longing or regret.
Menders made a point of keeping household duties within The Shadows’ residents, sharing out the work between the Men, occasionally hiring some of the tenant farmers’ wives and daughters for seasonal cleaning. Katrin’s security was the compelling reason for this. The fewer people privy to the workings of the house, the better.
He didn’t know the Polzens well and didn’t want to. He had exchanged some rough words with Mister Polzen about a cow left lying in his farmyard after a difficult calving. When Menders happened along, the suffering animal had been out in all weathers for several days and was in agony from infection. When he confronted Polzen, he was told that the cow was being left to “take her chance” and that a bullet wasn’t going to be wasted on her. Menders offered to sho
ot the cow himself and did so after the farmer shrugged indifferently. He’d avoided the place ever since, thankful it was not one of The Shadows’ tenancies.
Young Varnia seemed cut from a different bolt of cloth than her sullen father and slovenly brothers, whom Menders had seen loitering in the village from time to time. Still, he wanted to know why she had chosen The Shadows when she had already worked for some of the people who had given her references.
He looked at her over his glasses. She met his gaze.
“Borsen is a dear little boy, isn’t he?” Menders asked gently, going with his instincts as to why this young woman was here.
“Yes,” she answered, never wavering. “That is the main reason why I have applied to you, Mister Menders. I would like to see to it that Borsen is looked after.”
“We fully intend to do that,” Menders said with some amusement.
“Yes, and I mean no insult, but he is very frail and I could provide whatever extra care might be necessary. I would also perform any other sort of domestic work you might require.”
Menders waited.
“My eldest brother has just married, Mister Menders,” Varnia continued coolly. “I was not happy doing all the woman’s work on the farm, but I am certainly not going to stay and do the bidding of some other woman. I wish to be here not only because of Borsen, but because I am a friend of the Princess. From the way she has been raised, I can tell that this is a decent and loving home. But I am not afraid of hard work and hard situations. If I do not find work here, I will find it elsewhere.”
Menders nodded, leaning back in his chair. He thought for a moment while Varnia waited with no sign of discomfort or impatience. She gave the impression that she was as comfortable with silence as Menders was.
“I would like to speak to Eiren for a moment,” he finally said. “I can give you an answer today, if you would like to wait.”
She nodded.
“There are plenty of books to browse. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He rose and left her there. He hurried upstairs, finding Eiren in their suite.
Weaving Man: Book One of The Prophecy Series Page 49
