by James Bee
“I would ask to be released from your service.”
Silence took the room.
Gerald kept his face lowered, unable to muster the nerve to look up.
“Rise, Gerald.”The king’s voice was as frosty as a winter’s morning. Gerald stood and looked up. It was as if a mask had fallen away from the old man’s face. Underneath was a visage of pure hate. Eyes blazed as he stared down from the throne, mouth curled into a snarl. Gerald had known that the man hated him, yet he was still unnerved to see it so plainly. The king was trapped; he had no choice but to grant his request. It was not so great a reward, not unreasonable. It had to be granted. “You may go. Though I would not deem it wise for you to stay in the capital.”With those words, the elderly monarch raised his head and stared away, as though Gerald was not even there.
Bowing low, he began to step away. Yet before he turned he stole a glance at the other throne. The queen’s face was slack. Gerald realized it was the first time he’d ever seen her look surprised. Spinning on his heel, he strode from the room. With each step, it felt as though a weight was lifted from his shoulders.
Outside the palace, Frothy was waiting for him. His saddlebags were still hanging off of the side of the horse. Guess I won’t have to pack. Vaulting onto his back, he spurred the horse forward, eager to be free of the city. He would have to leave now, no time to track down and say goodbye to Rauf. He’ll understand. We could never be brothers. More than likely, men would be on his trail by nightfall. In the palace walls he was a useful example, but outside of them he was an unnecessary embarrassment. He had to leave, and quickly. There was only one stop to make first.
38
Chapter 38
A cow moo’d reproachfully as they approached the farmhouse. Frothy trotted on, ignoring the animal. Apart from the grazing bovine, the grounds were empty. It was still early yet, the sun barely starting to peer over the horizon. Sliding off his horse, Gerald took a wrapped bundle and placed it under his arm. Taking a deep breath, he looked around.
There was nothing but fields as far as he could see. Crops of some kind grew in tall rows. A sense of peace lay over the farm, like a heavy fog. It made sense that Kayl had come from a place like this. You always carry a piece of home with you, and his friend had certainly done that.
Heart hammering, he approached the doorway to the house. As he neared, Gerald could hear voices from inside. It’ll be about breakfast time. Gerald could imagine the scene inside already. A sturdy table set with simple foods, surrounded by the family all eating happily. He’d be ruining all of that. Maybe I should just go. Move on and leave them to their peace.
Instead he knocked. Kayl would want them to hear it from me. Footsteps approached the door, and it swung open. An older woman opened the door, grey streaks peppering her hair. Beyond her, Gerald could see four others staring. One was obviously Kayl’s father and the other three his younger sisters. None looked to have seen yet their thirteenth year.
“Er. Hello. My name is Gerald, I’m…”The woman’s face lit up and she took his arm, pulling him through the doorway.
“We know who you are! Kayl’s mentioned you in his letters enough times. Sir Gerald this and Sir Gerald that!”she said warmly. Smiles and welcoming words boomed out from the other occupants of the cottage.
“Oh, he did. Well…”Gerald stammered, flustered. The speech he’d been practicing on the road here abandoned him. He didn’t have the words. How could he say it?
His face must have given something away, some hint of his intentions. Quick as they’d arrived, the smiles faded, the air of good humour evaporated. Gerald knew he had to say something, but what? What words did he have that could make anything better?
“Kayl …he…”His voice choked, and he couldn’t say anything more. Though it didn’t matter. He’d said enough. The woman crumpled slowly, collapsing to her knees. Wails burst from the younger women, high and heart-wrenching. Kayl’s father buried his head in his hands.
Stepping out of the house, Gerald left them to the privacy of their grief. A bench was nearby, just under an overhanging stoop. Sitting on it, tears streaked down his face as he waited. It was wrong that Kayl was gone and he was here. That his friend had left a family behind yet Gerald had survived. It wasn't fair.
After a time the sounds of sobbing quieted. The door creaked open, and Kayl’s father stepped out. His eyes were red-rimmed and his nose was running. Despite this, he still had his composure. A glass of water was in his hand, and he handed it to Gerald before sitting down beside him.
“Would you like to know how?”Gerald asked.
The older man shook his head.“Not now, lad. Not now.”
Reaching into his coat, Gerald pulled out a small sack.“Here, it’s not much, but it’s all I could scrape together.”
The older man stared at the sack and reluctantly took it.“Thank you. If times were normal I’d refuse it, but they’re not. Damn war. Ain’t enough men to bring the harvest in. Ain’t got the gold to hire ’em. This’ll help.”The two of them sat in silence for a time. Once again, Gerald found that he lacked the words. What could he tell the man about his son that he didn’t already know? How could he put into words what his son had meant to him? All the days and nights spent together, on the march, in the fields. How his son had saved his life, over and over again. How could he repay that debt?
Suddenly, Kayl’s father stood. “I’m afraid I can’t even spare the day. Not to mourn. The wheat is growing old in the fields. Do no good for us to starve. Kayl wouldn’t have wanted it. Stay for the night, if you would. You’ll do us much comfort to be here.”
“You said that you need help with the harvest? I don’t know much about farming, but I can work, if you’ll have me.”The older man looked taken aback, and he quickly protested.
“But … you must be getting back to the service. You cannot …you’re a knight, for godsake!”
“Not anymore,”Gerald said quietly. Kayl’s father considered this and after a time nodded.
“In that case, we’d be glad to have the help. You can stay in the house, of course, bit loud but it don’t leak like it used to. We’d be glad to have you for as long as you can stay. One more pair of strong arms might make all the difference. Best be on with it then.”Gerald stood and made to walk toward the fields, but the older man stopped him. “Don’t think you’ll be needing that,”he said, looking at the blade hanging off Gerald’s hip.
“Right.”Gerald undid it and hung the strap on a nearby peg. Kayl’s father nodded and strode off. Gerald stood, feeling different without the familiar weight on his hip. Instead of vulnerable, he felt free. Freer that he’d felt in his life. That sword belonged to Sir Gerald, the half bastard of the queen. Without it he was just Gerald the farmhand. Smiling, he followed the older man into the fields.
THE END
About The Author
James Bee lives in Port Moody, Canada. You can follow him on twitter at @jameslikesbooks. For more information on upcoming novels, visit him at https://jamesreads.blog