Casimir's Journey

by Lisa Manifold

  She laughed. “I saved you because I thought you were like your father. Fair and kind. I see now you are more like those you fostered with. I shall enjoy this immensely.” She patted his clothing pile and left the room. Casimir heard her chuckling even after she’d left.

  There was something very wrong with Catrin. He felt he should have a better idea of what that was, but he could make no sense of her, her actions, her words, nothing.

  Yet he agreed to go along with her. Well, to a point. He got the clothes and put them on. The sooner he left, the sooner he could be heading towards his father’s palace.

  He gathered up the bag with his supplies for his disguise. It was not perfect, but he felt that combined with looking like a common laborer, no one was going to look twice at him for his resemblance to Prince Casimir. With a last look around the room, making sure nothing was forgotten, he walked out.

  He found himself in a small hallway. Following it to the other end led to a kitchen. The girl was on a stool leaning over the stove, and Catrin at a table by a window.

  “Come back when you’ve gotten what I asked for,” Catrin said without looking up from her task.

  “I will. You will honor our agreement?”

  Her head flew up and bright eyes bored into his. “I do not renege on my word.”

  “Neither then shall I. Is the horse outside?”

  She nodded, and he left the kitchen. The horse was as promised, tied to a small post outside the door. He checked him over. There seemed to be everything he needed. There was even a good sized satchel where he could stow the bag he now carried. Reaching in, he pulled out a bundle of cloth. It was a long, heavy cloak. That surprised him. She didn’t seem overly generous. He stuffed the bundle back in the satchel, covering the bag with his mix and herbs. He didn’t want to lose that. Who knew how long the disguise would last?

  With mixed feelings, he mounted the horse, and began the journey away from the house. He looked back, and saw that it looked as rude and small as it had when he looked out of the window in his chamber. A plume of smoke rose, completing the little hut picture. He blinked. It looked even smaller, if possible. Shaking his head, he gave the horse a nudge and headed for the main road.

  Once reaching the main track, he realized he didn’t know where he was.

  “That’s clever, Casimir,” he muttered. Fine way to start off on his quest. Not knowing where he was. It boded so well for the future.

  He stopped himself. It was so very easy to fall into failure, all the reasons why he could not succeed. That did him no good. It did not keep his eyes on the goal. And the goal was to return to his life and to Thea.

  Thinking about Thea, his heart ached. She thought he was dead. Worse, she had watched him die, or so she thought. He wasn’t sure he would be able to recover from such a sight. Would she be angry that he was not dead and had not told her? Would it be better to just go to her, and tell her some madwoman had somehow saved him?

  After several hours, his incessant thoughts were broken by the sight of a village in the distance. Even though he didn’t know where he was, finding somewhere that had a tavern was a good thing. He could venture in and discover his location. If he was still in Gallivas, even though it was not his land, he knew it well. If this was Ethion, he knew it even better. It would be a good test of his disguise, even as he planned to shed the disguise in short order.

  He pulled up the horse. Marching into a small village tavern asking where he was would not go over well. He needed a reason to be lost and unaware. What story could he tell without creating a mountain of questions? The horse, feeling his unease, shifted about, muttering a bit. Casimir yanked the reins sharply to settle him, but the horse didn’t find the stern hand calming, and he bucked in response.

  That was it. He would tell anyone who asked that he had been thrown from his horse. The horse was jumpy and unseasoned. A spill from the saddle would impugn him as a rider, but he didn’t care. He would end up with the information he needed without garnering too many queries into who he was.

  Who was he? He couldn’t go out proclaiming his name. He didn’t need that sort of scrutiny. Yates. Fairly nondescript and forgettable. He’d claim to have forgotten where he was.

  He found himself in the dusty area in front of the few huts and buildings that made up the village. A tavern, of course. A black smith, a small chapel a bit away from the tavern. A few more buildings, probably a carpenter, and a mill. Further away, he could see the daub and wattle homes of the villagers. There was no castle or manor house visible, but he knew there would be one close by.

  He yanked on the reins again, and the horse actually stopped. He wondered if Catrin had given him a difficult horse in the hopes that he would fall and crack his head and the whole thing would be at an end. It didn’t seem out of character for her.

  Dismounting, he made his way into the tavern. There were a few local people within, and he sat at a table. An older woman came to him.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “A tankard of ale and some information.”

  She made a noise that could be anything as she went back to fetch the ale. Casimir couldn’t tell if that meant he’d get any information. He sighed. Something needed to go right for him. Even one small thing.

  The woman plunked the ale in front of him, sloshing a bit from the top. “What do you want to know?”

  “Thank you, good madam. The road is dusty. I’m hoping you can tell me where I am.”

  Her mouth fell open. “What do you mean?”

  “I took a fall from my horse. I cannot remember where I am. I know I am to go to Ethion, as I have to help my mother’s ailing sister, but I don’t know exactly where I am. My head feels most tender.” He rubbed the side of his head in illustration.

  “I see no injury.” Her gaze turned suspicious.

  “I thought the same. I got back onto the horse and then realized that, in spite of there being no blood, I had suffered some injury. So I rode on hoping to recognize a landmark. I have not, so I have to ask for help.”

  He looked at her as he pulled the ale to him and took a gulp. She squinted at him, debating the truth in his story. “You’re in Temes, on the land of Lord Alston. We are close to the border of Ethion, so you’re probably on the right road.” She glared at him once more, and then turned away.

  First test passed. He took another drink, looking around. As Casimir, he didn’t have much call to be in the small villages that dotted the estates of the various lords. This looked to be prosperous. The walls were stone, and the tavern keeper actually had a counter from which to serve that had long wooden planks atop it, all of which were polished and neat looking.

  Disgruntled keeper aside, the tavern was well kept and the ale not bitter. He made a note to congratulate the absent Lord Alston on the overall health of his tenants. As the lord of the land, even if they were not, their prosperity reflected well on him.

  He’d found this in most of Gallivas. King Aland was a good ruler, and he expected similar from his nobles. Even in times of drought and less than ideal crops, the people of Gallivas were well off. None went hungry, and the dame in charge didn’t look to be missing many meals.

  The uncharitable thought was quashed almost as quickly as it had come to him. Nothing about the tavern keeper had anything to do with him or his troubles. Venting his spleen at her, even just within his own thoughts, was not fair.

  He looked around and found her watching him. “Your ale is good. Another?” He held up the tankard. She nodded. He felt into his pouch and touched coin. Catrin had given him some funds, and he could feel that he’d have enough to pay for the ale without causing comment. She could have given him gold coin, rather than the coppers he knew were there. Perhaps she wanted him to succeed.

  The woman returned setting the second tankard down. He nodded at her as she moved back to the counter. Casimir drank the ale slowly, taking his time. He found that he was not disposed to getting back on the horse and back to his task. His disguise
didn’t seem to bring any more questions or suspicion than any other traveler. He’d bet the woman was surly with everyone. The thought made him smile. You’re not special, Casimir.

  He took another drink of his ale. This needed to be his last, as he could ill afford to be sodden with drink as he set out.

  No one else came in as he sat. He finished his drink and left two coppers on the table. He nodded again to the woman who, after glancing at the table to ensure he had paid, nodded back. The horse was where he’d left him, casually grazing on grass off to the side of the tavern. Mounting up, he could see where the road led on outside the village, and he turned the horse towards that direction.

  Other than himself, there was no else about. While it felt eerie to him, he knew it was because most of the inhabitants were in the fields or at labors that would keep them occupied until evening. The horse settled into a light trot, and Casimir had time to reflect on all that had happened. There were no real villages or settlements between here and the border, if he remembered correctly.

  What was Thea feeling? And why did Catrin believe Thea was so awful? The whole family, actually. She didn’t seem negative regarding his family, but she really did not care for the royal family of Gallivas. He couldn’t see why. Aland was a good man and a good king. He cared for his people, and he ensured that his nobles did as well, even if they were not as enthusiastic about it as Aland was. Casimir grinned. He’d seen the king lay into a nobleman who was not as good a steward as Aland urged them to be.

  So what was Catrin’s reason for anger? He couldn’t see it. He’d been living in the castle for a number of years before the debacle of the slippers began. He knew Aland had a temper, but no more than any other man. He worked hard to be fair even when angry. Casimir found that admirable, as it was hard to see much when one was in the midst of a temper.

  His musings halted as he came upon a large farm cart full of hay. It listed slightly off to the right and forced him to move off the track in order to pass. As his horse moved around the cart, he saw that a woman knelt by one of the wheels. Beneath the wheel lay a man, groaning.

  He reined the horse and nearly flew off the saddle. “Madam! Can I be of assistance?”

  She looked up, and he could see the tear tracks on her face. “Oh, please sir! Please help me get this cart off him!” She burst into fresh tears.

  Casimir stood back. It appeared that one of the axles had broken, and the man had been under the cart attempting to fix it when the whole thing fell on him.

  “You’ll need to help me. I think I can lift it enough for you to pull him from underneath. Can you do that?” He put his hand on the woman’s shoulder, hoping to calm her. He needed her to be able to act quickly. Crying wouldn’t necessarily get that done.

  She surprised him, though. She wiped her face with her sleeve and nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

  “I’ll lift the corner of the wagon. When I do, you must pull with all your might and pull him out from under it. Even if he screams, and he might. He looks to be fairly well injured.” He squeezed her shoulder, letting her know he was in this with her.

  “I can do it.” He could see her attempting to compose herself. He squeezed her shoulder once more and then moved closer to the corner of the cart. “All right. I’m…I’m Yates. What’s your name?”

  “Miriam. This is Beldon.” She indicate the man. “He had to get this in today, and….” Her voice trailed away as she looked at Beldon. His eyes were closed, and he took shallow breaths. Casimir could see that he was in a great deal of pain. The broken axle landed across the lower part of his chest. Peering more closely, he couldn’t see any blood, but that didn’t lessen the distress.

  “Miriam, take his shoulders. When I lift up, as soon as you can, pull him free. Be ready.”

  She nodded. She placed a hand under each of Beldon’s shoulders, and then briefly kissed him on the forehead. Beldon made no acknowledgement of the kiss, which Casimir didn’t think indicated anything good. He leaned down and carefully lined his shoulder up under the edge of the cart. He gave a few test lifts to get a sense of how heavy the cart was. It was heavy. Well, perhaps getting around Catrin’s conditions would be a moot point, he thought ruefully. The cart might crush him as well.

  He met Miriam’s gaze again. “Ready?” She nodded again.

  Casimir put his all into it and pushed up with his entire body against the cart. Initially, nothing happened. He pushed harder, feeling the blood rush to his face with the strain. He kept on pushing and finally, he could feel the cart lifting. “Get him!” He grunted. He was afraid to look down, afraid that he’d lose the balance he was managing. He felt, rather than saw, the body of Beldon move from under the wheel. Beldon screamed horribly, indicating that he was being moved in a way that didn’t help his injuries.

  “Is he free?” Casimir grunted.

  “Yes, but he’s bleeding! He’s bleeding!” Miriam shrieked.

  Casimir didn’t respond but dropped the cart, exhaling heavily as he did. Then he breathed in and got a mouthful of hay. This made him sneeze.

  He moved closer to Miriam and Beldon.

  “How is he?”

  “I don’t know!” Miriam was weeping. “I can’t tell where the blood is coming from!”

  Casimir knelt down next to the pair, and lifted up Beldon’s tunic. A deep bruise showed along the bottom of his chest, and he was indeed cut along where the axle dug into him. A closer inspection showed that the cut was not deep, but Casimir found the bruising troubling. He had seen such injuries before, and it ended with the men coughing up blood. He didn’t want to say anything to Miriam, as she did not appear to be holding up well as things stood.

  “Is your home far from here?”

  Miriam sniffled. “We’re not far. Could you please help me get him home?”

  Casimir sighed. He anticipated this would take nearly all day, but he could not leave the man. He felt he might die, and didn’t want to leave him in the field. “Yes, of course. We’ll have to put him on the horse, although it’s not the best thing. You’ll have to help me and ride with him to hold him.”

  Between the two of them, they settled Beldon against Miriam on the back of Casimir’s horse. Beldon mumbled and cried out as they did so, but didn’t open his eyes.

  Chest heaving with the work and the heat of the midday sun, Casimir scrubbed his head, feeling the sweat bead on his scalp. “Which way, Miriam?”

  She jerked her head to the west. Figures, thought Casimir, as I need to go east. There was not any sense in bemoaning things, so he picked up the reins and walked the horse to the west.

  It took about five minutes to get to a small collection of huts. Miriam led them to one in the middle of the little grouping. Several women who were working over what looked to be a tub of laundry came running when they saw them.

  “Miriam! What happened?”

  “The wagon broke and fell on Beldon when he tried to fix it. Get the healer! He’s hurt!” The tears were still close to the surface when Miriam spoke, but at least she seemed capable of doing what was necessary.

  One of the women raced off, and the other two came to Beldon. “Let’s get him to the pallet,” said the older of the two. “Who are you?” She turned a steely gaze to Casimir. She was weathered by the sun and her sleeves were pushed up, the water from the laundry drying on her arms. Her clothes were worn and patched, but clean.

  “I am Yates. I happened along as Miriam was attempting to help free him.”

  “He lifted the cart off Beldon and helped me get him back. Thank goodness! We’d still be there if not for his help!” Miriam gave the woman a push towards Beldon. “He needs to be out of the sun!”

  This seemed to pacify the older woman, and she turned to Beldon. Between the three women, they moved Beldon into the hut. Casimir hurried ahead and moved aside the curtain that fell into the doorway.

  “The healer is coming!” The fourth woman ran back in, panting. “She says she’ll be here as quick as she can an
d to boil some water.”

  “What’s that going to do?” The older woman snorted.

  “Ladies, if I might, I will remove myself from your way. My best wishes to you and to Beldon. I am for Ethion, and must make haste.” He bowed, and all three women turned to stare at him.

  Miriam opened her mouth to speak, but a look from the older woman stopped her. “We thank you for your service, good man. Yates, is it? We shall remember you to Beldon.”

  “Please do. He is in my thoughts for a speedy recovery.” He bowed again and exited the hut. He glanced at the door once more, and swung up on the horse. The distance back to where he had found the pair was not far, but he’d spent the better part of a day assisting them.

  He gave the horse several nudges to speed him up. He was glad to have helped, but he found himself most eager to be on his way. The sooner to Ethion, the sooner to his father, and back to Thea and his life.

  He rode past the broken down cart. The hay had begun to fall out of the side that collapsed with the broken axle. He hoped that Miriam had someone to assist her. He didn’t give Beldon good chances for survival, but he would not say such doubts aloud. It brought bad luck, and Beldon had more than his share of that already.

  Shaking his head, he pushed on. He wanted to get to the border of Ethion before the morning. It looked that he would be riding through part of the night. Alone, the thought made him nervous. He’d traveled at night before, as Prince Casimir, but that had been with his retinue, and guards, and a tent. He didn’t even have a tent. That fact made him cast a worried eye to the sky above. He didn’t want to spend the night out in the open if it rained. Thankfully, the sky was a bright, clear blue. It didn’t lessen his concern.

  He considered what it was like to travel as Yates, a common man, and not as Prince Casimir with all the attendant titles and belongings that came with that. It felt scary, and he felt very small and extremely vulnerable. He wondered if Catrin wanted him to have that experience.

  Catrin. She was indeed a woman of mystery. He couldn’t tell what her goal was. She had to be a very skilled sorceress to reattach his head. She would have expended a great deal of effort and energy. But why? She said it was because he was a good man, like his father. Did she know his father? Though dressed as a well-off commoner, Catrin didn’t seem like a commoner. She had the air of nobility. If she knew his father, why the immediate turn to condemn him as she had done? She wasn’t being entirely honest. Who could tell exactly what it was she was lying about? He couldn’t.