A Burden Given

by James Bee

  “You have it all mistaken, I’m afraid. I am but a hardworking farmer, toiling day after day in the soil. You missed the mark but by a chair’s length. There is your prince!”he said, pointing at Gerald. “The noble Prince Gerald, most handsome of bastards.”The smile slid from Gerald’s face as quickly as it had appeared. Orland didn’t notice, too busy staring up at the barmaid. For her part, she was gaping at Gerald, eyes wide as a full moon. Bowing again, she retreated from the table. Gerald watched her walk over to the bar and begin speaking to the men there.

  “Dammit, Orland! Can’t I have one night of peace free from my mother’s shadow?”he said, taking a long drink from his mug. Orland looked between Kayl and Gerald’s unsmiling faces.

  “What? It was only a joke. Not likely that these bumpkins would know much about it,”he said defensively.

  Kayl shook his head in exasperation.“Everyone in the whole damn kingdom knows about it! The farther away from the capital the more ridiculous and fanciful the story becomes.”The men at the bar were looking over to their table, openly now. From across the room Gerald could tell that they were drunk.

  “Even then, it’s not like it’s your fault! Why does it matter if people know who you are?”Orland protested.

  “People look at me differently. Gawk like she was doing, like they’re doing.”Word was spreading throughout the tavern. People were staring at him, some openly, some making some small effort to be discreet. Orland looked around, and his face reddened.

  “Shit. Sorry, mate, I didn’t think,”he said with an uncharacteristic frown. Suddenly he yelled, “What are you all looking at?”Kayl groaned, grabbing the nobleman’s arm to keep him from standing up. Silence overtook the tavern; now everyone was staring openly.

  “I’m looking at the queen’s bastard, boy. Ain’t every day that we get to see such a famous man,”a large man from the bar said, sauntering over to them. Two strong-looking men following behind him. The man’s eyes were unfocused, a mocking smile on his face.

  “Have your look, then best return to the bar, friend,”Gerald said evenly, staring up at him. The big farmer shook his head, leering down at Gerald.

  “Not before you answer some of our questions. Bastard,”the man spat out the word at him. Gerald ground his teeth and shifted his feet. There was little question what was going to happen next.

  “He ain’t got to answer anything,”Kayl rumbled. “Best heed his words and go sit down.”The bulky farmer looked down at him, taking in Kayl’s considerable size. He threw up his hands, gesturing for peace.

  “Easy, big man, easy. We ain’t looking for a fight. Just got some questions. He don’t gotta answer if he doesn't want to,”he said placatingly.

  “Yeah, like is it true the queen slept with the whole household guard?”one of the big man’s mates slurred from behind him. Gerald felt a flush rising up his neck. A different sort of silence gripped the tavern. Orland swore and would have leapt out of his seat if Kayl hadn’t been gripping his arm.

  “Peace,”Gerald said under his breath. The third farmer stepped forward, resting his boot on the table.

  “They say that your father stole into the palace at night and forced himself on her,”he said, the sour smell of ale drifting off of him and filling the table.

  The big farmer shook his head.“That can’t be right. Everyone knows the reason why they named him after his father. So the queen could call him to her bedchamber every night and pretend he was him.”Gerald leapt to his feet, blood roaring in his ears. Orland and Kayl were behind him a moment later. The three farmers stumbled back, fists held up. A few other men from around the room stepped forward, their faces grim. For a moment neither side moved, staring at each other, waiting to see who would make the first move.

  Gerald snatched his mug from the table and drained it in a few gulps. Wiping his mouth, he placed it back on the table. His body was screaming at him to lash out, to strike. Forcing his voice to stay calm he said, “We’re leaving. I’d rather not get your blood on my new cloak.”Flicking a coin onto the table, he turned and strode out the door. A stunned silence filled the room behind.

  A moment later, Kayl and Orland burst out behind him. The trio hurried over to their horses and jumped on, Gerald slicing through the ropes with his sword. The haste was not in vain as a small gang of farmers burst out of the tavern. Reeling with drink, they stumbled toward them, shouting curses.

  They were too slow; the big man was knocked to the ground as the horses galloped past them. Riding into the dimness of the dusking sky, Gerald gripped his reins tightly and ground his teeth. It seemed he was safe nowhere from his parent’s infamy.

  5

  Chapter 5

  Redstone was little like any of the other towns he’d been to. Instead of tall walls and gates encompassing the whole place, it just slowly appeared. A few ramshackle huts, a small farmstead on the side of the road. All around, the denseness of the forest crowded, soaring oppressively high. So much so that they hardly saw the town before it was upon them. A couple of ditches and a small wall were all that separated it from the woods.

  Still, it was larger than Gerald had imagined, though truth told, he had expected little more than a few squat houses in the middle of a swamp. Compared to that, Redstone was a welcome surprise. Over the walls, he could see a multitude of buildings of all shapes and sizes. Breathing a sigh of relief, he nudged his horse toward it.

  A cry went up from behind the gate. Briefly, Gerald worried that arrows might come flying over at them. After days trekking through the forest, his men likely looked little different than a band of wild woodsmen. Holding a hand up for a halt, Gerald turned back to his soldiers.

  “Stay here. We’ll go on alone. We don’t want these folks to get too jumpy,”he said, motioning to Kayl and Orland to follow him. Breaking into a gallop, he headed toward the town walls. A spear throws away, he reined Frothy in as a head peeked over the makeshift battlement.

  “Who are you?”the person yelled, voice deep and booming.

  “Sir Gerald, sworn knight of the king and new mayor of Redstone,”Gerald yelled, loud enough to carry into the city. Letting the news of their announcement spread before them would make things easier. It seems fear and panic are alive here — this jumpiness is not a good sign.

  For a moment there was no answer from behind the gate, and Gerald began to worry that they might turn him away. It would hardly be a promising start if he had to lay siege to his own town. These worries turned out to be unfounded as the gates slowly rumbled open. While the wooden doors swept open, the people arrayed behind it came into view. A sizeable force stood behind them, roughly the same number as his own men.

  They were clearly not soldiers, though he wouldn't hold that against them. Having been on the march for the greater part of two weeks, Gerald was rather sick of soldiers. Instead, these men looked to be a typical town’s garrison. Ranging from the quite young to the worryingly old, they clutched improvised weapons. A man strode out from their midst. Gerald slid off his horse to grasp his hand.

  “Good to meet you, my lord. The name’s Blane, Blane Beesbury. I’m the captain of this sorry lot,”the man said, clutching Gerald’s hand in a crushing grip. He was tall and sinewy, with more than a couple of scars on him. Clearly a man who’d seen more than his share of combat. Gerald nodded a greeting.

  “The pleasure is mine. Apologies for giving you and your lads such a shock,”he said, grinning.

  “Aye, that you did. Armed band of fifty men arriving at our doorstep. It’s enough to make the old heart beat a little faster,”the grizzled captain said.

  “Odd that a force such as ours could show up without your knowing about it,”Kayl said from behind Gerald. “Especially since we weren’t bothering to hide our approach in any way.”Gerald winced at the blunt criticism. Blane reddened slightly, his frown deepening.

  “This is Sir Kayl, commander of the king’s forces behind me. Beside him is Lord Orland Mallister. He’s here to drink all of your wine,”Gerald
said. The garrison commander’s frown didn’t budge.

  “Aye, we should have seen you coming. Truth be told, our eyes are rather focused on the other direction,”he said, gesturing to the north. “But there’ll be time enough to speak on that later. Don’t see much sense in bandying words outside the walls. You and your men must be tired. Come inside and I’ll show you to your chambers.”Nodding his thanks, Gerald turned back to his friends.

  “Kayl, see that the men are quartered away, please. Orland, go and buy some wine for them and their new comrades, if you would,”he said, tossing a small bag of gold at the nobleman. Grinning, the young man rode off into the town, and the grim faced militiamen parted to let him through. Kayl nodded and turned back toward the men. Grabbing his horse’s reins, Gerald began to walk beside Blane.

  “I’ve quite a few questions, as you can imagine,”he said. The biggest one being why the hell am I here? Gerald thought, looking into the town.

  “I have no doubt. Not sure I’m the man to answer them, though. There’s a council meeting tonight, and you’ll be able to ask away to your heart’s content. Have some questions asked of you too, most likely,”the tall soldier said in a tone that indicated a lot of the questions would be coming from him.

  “If you’ve concerns, feel free to voice them now. No need to wait.”Better to steer into the storm than to run from it, Gerald’s old drillmaster had said. Blane nodded, grinding his teeth as he struggled to find the right words.

  “Seems a lot of men you’ve brought. Not that we’re unhappy to see them. King’s men too, with two of the king’s own knights leading. Only a fool would think that you’re truly Banesfort’s replacement,”he said. Gerald looked sharply at the man. He was asking the same question that Gerald had been for weeks. If only he had some answers for the man.

  “Aye, you’ve seen the truth of it. You won’t have to suffer my presence forever, just until the Crown decides on a suitable replacement. Though I doubt too many people are going to volunteer for the job, no offence.”They passed through the gates and into the town. The smell of humanity washed over him, filling his nostrils. Two weeks away and he had already forgotten the stench of humans living together.

  “I appreciate the honesty. I’ll give you some truth back. I’m glad to see a soldier in charge at a time like this.”The commander spat, waving his men away. They left, muttering to themselves and casting glances back at Gerald. No doubt the speculation would soon start.

  “How do you mean?”Gerald asked, worry starting to grow in his belly. The mission was growing less and less dull by the moment. Instead of answering, Blane shook his head.

  “It’ll be explained better in the meeting. Best save it for that.”Gerald nodded, unwilling to press the man. “That’s the town hall. I expect you’ll be spending quite some time in there.”Blane pointed to a two-storey building. It had a gloomy look, darkness peering from behind its windows. “The taverns are that way, and the market is that way. I doubt it’ll take you long to find your way around, what with you being from the big city and all.”Townsfolk were staring at him as they passed, word spreading of newcomers. They seemed a healthy folk, no strangers to labour. There was a leanness to them, one that you wouldn’t find in the capital. All nodded at Blane as he walked by, Gerald noticed. A man well respected in the community. A man that would bring a lot of support to his side if he could befriend him.

  “Have you lived here long?”Gerald asked.

  “Ten years. Best years of my life,”the tall soldier answered gruffly. “Good people here, hard-working.”

  Gerald nodded his agreement.“I don’t doubt it. Living this far north can’t be easy. The hike up the mountain nearly did in half my men.”

  “Aye, folk here are tough. Don’t much trust outsiders, ’specially not soldiers,”Blane growled. “Took me a long while for them to accept me.”They stopped outside of a small house. Fishing in his pocket, Blane gestured at it. “This is where you’ll be living.”Pulling a key out of his pocket, the grizzled soldier suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Of course, you have claim to the mayor’s house, it’s just that Banefort’s widow and son are still there…”

  Gerald held up his hand for the man to stop.“Here is more than fine. I have little use for a mansion. I can only sleep in one bed, after all,”he said.

  Blane seemed to relax a bit.“That’s very decent of you. They’re still shaken over the mayor’s death, and I wouldn’t want to upset them further.”Blane tugged at his beard. Gerald stepped forward and opened the door. A musk wafted out, smelling of dust and, strangely, fire.

  Stepping through the threshold, Gerald looked around. The inside of the house was sparse, the walls bare and with only a little bit of furniture to give a semblance of comfort. A dark fire pit dominated the main room, long cold ashes squatting in its depths. A closed door held the promise of a bed, one that he was eager to take advantage of.

  “It’s not much, but it keeps the rain out,”Blane said, stepping in behind him.

  “Reminds me of home,”Gerald said. The garrison captain gave a half smile, the kind that is reserved for when one is unsure if a joke has been made.

  “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a few hours to collect you.”Without another word the tall soldier ducked his head and stalked out of the house. Gerald took a moment to explore the rest of the place. It was just as bare as the front room. The emptiness comforted him; it helped him to convince himself he wouldn’t be staying long.

  Stepping back into the afternoon light, Gerald pulled his bags off of Frothy. At the side of the house was a small horseshed. Leading Frothy over to it, he tied up the horse and headed back inside.

  The bedroom was small, nothing more than a bed and a small table. Exhaustion from the road suddenly came upon him. There were a great number of things that he should be doing. Seeing that his men were settled properly, surveying the town, asking questions about the mayor’s death. All things that demanded his attention. However, they would have to wait. Dropping his bags on the floor, he collapsed into the bed, falling immediately into a deep sleep.

  6

  Chapter 6

  It had felt like he just closed his eyes before Blane came back to pound on his door. A hour into the meeting and he was desperately wishing he was back in bed.

  “We need to be better prepared for the threat of the northern tribes. They could fall upon us at any time, and we would have little warning. Even with the king’s soldiers among us, we are still vulnerable,”Blane said, echoing a statement he’d made numerous times already. A derisive snort from across the table met his words.

  “The threat is nothing more than whispers in the wind. No doubt some savages are running around out past the walls, but they are little threat to us. We must focus on seeing to the mine,”said a small, reedy man. Rolan was his name, head of the miners’ guild. He had a slight build and was immaculately dressed. When Gerald had met him, the merchant grabbed his hand in the clammiest, limpest handshake he’d ever experienced. Little enough to damn someone, but the merchant hadn’t been climbing in his esteem since.

  “The mine is fine. Wealth flows out of it like it always has, filling pockets and corrupting our young folk.”This speaker was a priest, Lucan. He was dressed in a simple frock, on top of which lay a carved wooden circle. Even if he’d been naked, Gerald would have been able to pick him out for a holy man. All the priests that he had known were forbidding and severe, and Lucan was little different. He’d hugged Gerald, though there was little warmth in it. He’d liked this little better than Roland’s handshake.

  “The young folk will be more than corrupted if the Sanish hack them to pieces,”Blane argued, and the argument began anew. Sighing inwardly, Gerald knew it was up to him to mediate. That these men were all at least twenty years his senior would not make things easier. So far they had done little to defer to him, though he was technically in charge. Perhaps the power in this city does not lie with the mayor. Blane had as many men as him, albeit poorly equipped
and inexperienced. It was likely that Lucan controlled the people through dedication to the church. The wealth clearly lay with Rolan, whose mine essentially provided the reason for the town’s existence. Thus the question was who held the most power? So far none of the three were dominating the conversation or commanding deference from the others.

  “What of the mayor’s death?”Gerald asked, interrupting them.

  “What of it?”Rolan asked, frowning at the intrusion.

  “The details, mainly. I’ve been tasked with investigating it,”Gerald said.

  “Not much to investigate,”Roland said shortly. Irritation gnawed at Gerald, and he had to struggle to keep his voice level.

  “With respect, I’ll be the judge of that.”

  The guild master rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair.

  “Mayor Banesfort was found slumped over in his study. He was not in the best of health. We believe that he passed naturally,”Lucan said delicately.

  “Drank himself to death, not much else to say about it,”Roland said, scorn dripping from his voice.

  “You should speak to Lady Banesfort. I’m sure she can answer any questions you might have,”Lucan said. “Now back to the matter at hand. These new gatherings are quite worrying. I believe that we should—”The priest broke off as Gerald held up his hand.

  “Apologies for the interruption, but I believe that we have argued enough. You all bring up valid concerns that I will be looking into,”Gerald said. Lucan looked at him as though he were a child misbehaving at prayer.

  “You will be looking into? I don’t mean to be rude, but Lord Banesfort preferred to simply look after the day-to-day management of the city. He generally left us alone to mange our own affairs,”Blane said, the implication clear. Gerald looked around the table, seeing the dismissal on their faces. He shifted forward, feeling the sharp edges of the queen’s orders in his jacket.