Weaving Man: Book One of The Prophecy Series

by Tove Foss Ford

  Worst of all was Menders. Borsen gravitated to him ever since he’d been told Menders was his uncle and was always holding his hand, chattering away, perched on his knee or sitting beside him. They sketched together. Menders got Borsen interested in reading once his vision was corrected and they talked over the books for hours. They spoke Thrun together constantly. Menders was teaching him to drive – Menders was just smitten with Borsen.

  “Well, you brought him here,” Katrin muttered to herself, her lighter side trying to reason with her darker self. Katrin had found him, saved him and befriended him. She’d loved helping him, but now everyone else was putting their fingers in the pie. Borsen had love and adoration from all sides and didn’t need Katrin so much anymore.

  She’d always been loved and cared for, of course, but nothing like the way people doted on Borsen. That was probably because she was the Princes. People didn’t get as close. Well, everyone couldn’t be a pretty little Thrun boy people just itched to pick up and cuddle. Some people were big for their ages and stuck being princesses! It was hardly fair.

  Katrin had worked herself into a black mood by the time Menders and Borsen returned. The day had continued miserably sultry and humid, the kind of weather that always made her feel sick, and she had a headache from it. Sprawled on her bed and looking at a book she wasn’t reading, Katrin was not pleased when she heard Borsen making his way up toward the suite. His progress was marked by enthusiastic greetings from everyone he encountered.

  “There’s my Little Man!” That was Franz, guaranteed to be swinging Borsen around by the hand.

  “Whoops, little Cuz!” That was Kaymar. “We’re cooking outside tonight, all the Men. Does that sound good for dinner? It keeps from heating the place up. Good, we’ll count you in.”

  “Hello darling! Did you have fun at the village?” That was Eiren, of course. She was as soppy about Borsen as Menders was. Always giving him a kiss, having him sit next to her to hear him read or help him with his lessons.

  “Hello, Cuz!” Borsen said from Katrin’s doorway, his voice joyous.

  Katrin looked up without a word. He was holding a wrapped parcel and beaming at her. “Wait until you see what I got!” he said excitedly.

  “I really don’t care,” Katrin snapped. Borsen looked shocked and stepped closer.

  “Why? What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “Do you think you can just walk into my room without knocking?” Katrin asked, her voice rigid with resentment.

  Borsen blinked.

  “I… I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I always have just come in if the door is open. I just wanted to show you…”

  “I don’t care to see. Who do you think you are, anyway? This is my estate, you know, and I can have you off of it anytime I decide we don’t need a tailor’s apprentice, just like I decided we needed one. You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me!”

  As she saw the horror that flooded Borsen’s face, part of her was ashamed even while another part of her was gloating. Something tingled and crackled in her blood. For an instant she thought she heard a rustling of whispered voices from the corners of the room – or perhaps from inside her head.

  A moment later she was alone in her room, Borsen’s parcel lying on the floor, the paper broken open. Eiren was standing in the doorway, glaring at Katrin, rigid with anger.

  “I overheard that exchange, young lady! How could you be so cruel?” Eiren seethed. She continued upbraiding Katrin, but the words fell without effect, for something worse than words lay on the floor.

  Katrin stared at the cloth spilling from the torn paper. It was a light cotton, white with a beautiful print of spring flowers – not the men’s suit fabric that Borsen had been coveting. It was cloth she had admired but been unable to pay for the last time they were in the village together.

  He had bought it for her, with love.

  Oh no.

  ***

  Piteous wailing made Menders look out his office window. He saw Borsen rush from the back kitchen door, blundering along, blinded by tears. Kaymar and Ifor were loitering in a shady spot, but turned and then ran toward the boy, who collided with a tree and then rushed unsteadily onward.

  “What is it, Little Man?” Kaymar asked, catching Borsen. Ifor crouched and took Borsen’s glasses, cleaning them on his shirt, then swabbing at the boy’s eyes with his handkerchief. Menders vaulted over the windowsill and ran to them.

  Borsen hurled himself in Menders’ direction the moment he heard his voice. A quick grab kept him from falling over a tree root. Then Borsen was held close in Menders’ arms, his arms tight around Menders’ neck, sobbing brokenheartedly.

  “What the hells happened?” Menders asked the other men, who looked at each other in confusion.

  “Can’t get a word out of him,” Kaymar said.

  “Doesn’t seem to be injured, as far as I can see,” Ifor added.

  “Now then, what is it?” Menders murmured to Borsen, knowing that the best way to calm a crying child was to remain calm yourself. It took a long time before a response came.

  Once Borsen related what Katrin had said to him, it was all Menders could do to remain calm. Seeing Kaymar’s enraged expression brought him back to reason, knowing he must look like that himself, or worse. With the recent incident at the building site still fresh in his mind, Menders steeled himself to remain in control of his emotions.

  “I should probably be apprenticed somewhere else,” Borsen wept, unable to stop sobbing.

  “No, that isn’t going to happen, this is your home now,” Menders answered. “You’re my boy. Katrin doesn’t make the decisions about the estate. It’s her estate, but I run it.”

  “Why did she say it? I thought she was my friend! I love her!” Borsen wept.

  “She said it because she’s thirteen,” Menders sighed. “She is your friend and she loves you too, but at thirteen… even nice girls sometimes grow fangs.”

  Kaymar, who was still standing by, snorted sarcastically. Menders looked over Borsen’s shoulder at him.

  “I’d like you gentlemen to leave this to me,” he said quietly. “I’ll deal with Katrin. Everyone else needs to get back to business.”

  Kaymar looked ready to protest but then sighed and walked away with Ifor, much to Menders’ relief. Kaymar was very fond of Borsen and intensely protective as well, but he had a vicious temper that dwarfed Menders’ own.

  It quickly became obvious that Borsen was too heartbroken to calm down. He tried, but then would burst into new wails of grief, clinging to Menders with all his might.

  “All right, Little Man, I know. I understand. Fresh wounds hurt old scars, don’t they?” Menders whispered, patting his back. “We’re going to go see Doctor Franz so he can give you something to help you calm down. Then I think you need to go to bed because you’ve managed to cry yourself into a fever.” He carried Borsen back into the house, put him to bed and then went for Franz.

  “He might quiet a bit faster if you weren’t here,” Franz whispered to Menders after a small dose of ramplane failed to help Borsen stop crying. “It comforts him to have you with him but it also reminds him of what upset him in the first place. I’ll sit with him. Once you’re not here, I’m certain he’ll drop off.”

  Menders nodded, bent over Borsen and said, “Now remember, this is your home and you’re my boy.” Borsen smiled weakly, and began to fall asleep.

  Menders went to a particular bench in the rose garden, knowing that Katrin would be looking for him sooner or later. He wanted very much for her to come to him, so that he didn’t have to seek her out and confront her like some vengeful disciplinarian. He was trusting in Katrin’s own nature and upbringing to make her know she had done the wrong thing.

  He took calm, deep breaths, clenched and unclenched his hands, then seated himself.

  Nearby The Men were preparing their outdoor cooking, and called for him to bring Katrin and Eiren to dine with them later, to which he nodded a smiling acceptance.

>   Then he waited.

  ***

  Katrin fled from Eiren’s savage scolding. She knew it was well deserved, but she couldn’t bear it, not from Eiren. Seeing her so angry was frightening; she was always soft-spoken and gentle. The cruel words Katrin had flung at Borsen seemed to be burning away somewhere on the back of her tongue. It was as if some vicious other-Katrin had risen up and said them.

  She crept down the hall and peeped through the door to Borsen’s room. He was in bed, with Doctor Franz sitting beside him. She could smell ramplane and watched silently as Doctor Franz reached over to feel Borsen’s forehead, looking concerned.

  Oh Gods, I’ve made him sick, she thought, guilt stricken. He wants to be a strong man but he’s such a frail little thing! Franz says he’s made of silk and toothpicks, that all those years of not enough food have undermined his entire constitution.

  Why did I do it? Why?

  Because you wanted to. The thought was so much like a whispered voice that Katrin whirled around, fully expecting there to be someone behind her.

  She wanted Menders suddenly, even if he was furious and would tear strips off her. She deserved it. She tiptoed past Borsen’s door to the glass door at the end of the hallway and looked into the rose garden.

  Menders was sitting on a bench, not far from where the Men were building up wood for a big fire. For once he wasn’t reading or writing in a notebook. He was just sitting. She knew he was waiting for her.

  Katrin swallowed a couple of times and went to him, a dark knot in her stomach making her feel sick. Menders looked up and patted the seat next to him.

  Katrin sat down.

  “What’s wrong with Borsen?” she asked fearfully.

  “He was heartbroken over what you said to him and cried himself into a fever,” Menders answered. “Did you really say that you could send him away from here, Katrin?”

  She looked at the ground, unable to admit it in words. She could only acknowledge her guilt with a nod. Menders sighed.

  “You know that isn’t true,” he said softly.

  “I don’t know why I said it!” Katrin cried in a whisper, knowing it was a lie. Despite feeling bad about hurting Borsen, there was a thorn of resentment lodged in her heart.

  “You’re a bright child. I like to think you’ve been well brought up. If you examine your feelings, I think you’ll know why you did what you did.”

  Katrin nodded. “I… was jealous and I took it out on him. I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

  “It’s true that everyone here has been very taken up with Borsen. I can understand why you’d be that angry,” Menders said, his voice very controlled, but kind.

  “Well, you’re the worst of all,” Katrin replied irritably – startling herself. She hadn’t meant it to come out like that, even if it was how she felt.

  “Oh yes, and just how is that?” Menders tone cooled.

  “I… you positively dote on him, day and night! More than you ever did with me!” Katrin’s temper flared.

  “Oh, what nonsense! And what if I do?” Menders said. “My affections are mine, to give as I wish to whomever I wish – and, may I add, I certainly have doted over you for many years and still do.” His voice was level and frighteningly cold.

  Katrin stood up suddenly, to her own surprise. “But he’s not your child!” she protested before she could stop herself.

  Menders rose also, so quickly, so effortlessly that she could not have been more surprised if he’d drawn back to strike her. His face was a mask, hard and unreadable. For the first time in her life Katrin understood why some people were afraid of Menders.

  “No, he is not my child,” Menders said with terrible calmness. “Might I remind you, young lady, neither are you.”

  Katrin gasped.

  “Yes, that’s right. My life has been given over to the care of other people’s children,” Menders went on. “The fact that I choose to love them and care for them as my own is something I consider a blessing, not a detriment. It would serve you well to remember that, Katrin.”

  Katrin felt sick and light headed. Why had she said that to Menders? A voice inside her head seemed to be screaming for her to stop, to remind her that she was not like this, but her blood was on fire and she felt a terrible urge to fire cruel words back at Menders, to hurt him as she had hurt Borsen. She fought the urge. Desperate to regain something of herself, she could think of only one thing to do.

  Stepping back, she made a full formal curtsy to Menders and said, her voice shaking,

  “I have insulted and angered you and hurt my brother deeply. I am truly sorry and apologize. I am ashamed of myself and beg your forgiveness, Father.”

  When she rose, Menders just looked at her for a moment. Then he stepped forward, took her hands and drew her into a hug. Katrin sighed in relief and fought back tears. Anything Menders said or did could not be more frightening to her than hearing his heart hammering chest beneath her ear, like the pounding hoofbeats of a running horse.

  She’d seen Menders this angry only once before, when he’d torn up that carpenter who’d said vulgar things about her at the school worksite.

  “My child - my beloved daughter, I also must apologize to you,” he said. “I’ve been very taken up with Borsen, because he craves attention and needs it desperately. You’re so very grown up now that it’s easy to forget you’re thirteen and still a girl. I never meant to exclude you, Katrin. I’m man enough to admit that I have been quite enamored of having a little son and I have neglected you. That was unfair and it won’t continue.”

  “But you can’t stop now that you’ve started, it would hurt Borsen so,” Katrin said into his shoulder.

  Menders chuckled, a welcome sound. “No and I won’t, but I can be more balanced with my attentions.”

  “Do you like him more because he’s a boy?” Katrin asked, drawing back and looking at Menders fearfully. “And because he’s your nephew?”

  “No. A son is a son, and a daughter a daughter,” Menders answered seriously. “Each delightful and enjoyable in their own ways. Katrin, no-one can take your place in my heart but there is room for Borsen as well, just as there is for Eiren and Hemmett. Borsen needs us all right now. People are responding to that need, which is why they’re making much of him.”

  “I knew that. When I said it – it was like some horrible thing rose up and talked with my mouth,” Katrin said.

  “Ah. You’ve met your personal version of the Red Beast,” Menders replied, seating her on the bench, then sitting beside her.

  “Red Beast?”

  “It’s what the Thrun call it, that part of yourself that contains anger, jealousy, rage, all the things that we as civilized people tell ourselves we control. You’ve seen mine.”

  Katrin nodded. She had indeed.

  “You can learn to control the Red Beast,” Menders went on. “You can even use it when you need it. But sometimes it gets away from the best of us - and then there’s little we can do other than try to contain and mend the damage.”

  “I was afraid you would be mad at me forever,” she ventured.

  Menders smiled and shook his head.

  “I was very disappointed in you, yet I trusted you to know you did wrong. You‘ve proved my trust. I also knew that what hurt I felt would pass. But you’re going to have to gain Borsen’s trust again. You shattered his confidence about being here, you see. He thinks that you hate him. Please, remember that he’s frail, Katrin. It will be a long time before a shock like this won’t make him ill. If ever.”

  “Silk and toothpicks,” Katrin muttered.

  “Doctor Franz’s apt description.”

  Katrin nodded. Then she remembered that torn parcel that was still on the floor of her room.

  “He… he brought me a present,” she choked.

  “Yes, I know,” Menders replied. “I was there. He went on about it all the way home. He loves you, Katrin.”

  Katrin blinked at tears. Menders laughed a little and handed her his spare handk
erchief.

  “Now then, that’s enough emotional turmoil for one day,” he said firmly. “Borsen should be waking up in a little while. It would be good to make this up right away and start out fresh. Go on inside now.”

  Katrin, suddenly feeling light, got up and ran across the yard to the front doors. Eiren was there, looking weary and hot, but she came to Katrin and gave her a kiss. They went inside together as Menders watched.

  No doubt they would have a talk and sort things out. All would be well, and as before.

  Perhaps not quite as before, Menders thought after a moment. Such happenings inevitably left permanent change in their wake, and likely that change would be in Borsen, who did not need his fragile confidence shaken or his frail health compromised.

  Menders went to his office, locked the door, then washed his face and hands in the washbasin on the stand by the window. He looked closely at himself in the mirror.

  Keeping his temper under control when provoked always took a toll. His face looked pinched and drawn, flushed in places, his eyes red around the edges behind his dark glasses. He combed back his hair, thinking of the exchange between himself and the Princess.

  She had never spoken to him like that before. For just a moment as she faced him down, her face hard and furious, he’d thought he seen the shade of Katrin’s grandmother, Morghenna the Terrible. He’d believed careful upbringing, love and attention could rid a child of inborn influences, but Katrin had just shown the sort of cruelty and jealousy that had made her grandmother infamous. Despite all the love and nurturing she had been given, it was there.

  There was a slight rattling at the doorknob, then Kaymar let himself into the office, pocketing the lock pick he’d just used to gain entrance. Menders groaned in exasperation as his cousin settled to lounge in a chair.