“Could I have a rose?”
Penny and Sera howled with laughter. “A rose?” Sera mocked. “What kind of silly gift is a rose?”
Sascha glared at Sera, wishing she could stop. “My father always brought me back a rose on the days he went to town, and I’ve longed to see one again. They’re so rare here. If you happen to pass by a stand selling roses at the market, I’d very much like to have just one.” She smiled sheepishly, a blush creeping over her cheeks.
Mr. Longwillow smiled, giving the girl a hug and smoothing her hair. “A rose you shall have, then.”
****
Thaddeus Longwillow hadn’t felt so low since his wife had died some twenty years before. His grand market day in Falkin had been doomed almost as soon as he put his foot in the path. After pulling himself away from the tavern that morning, he and the old mare and wagon had set off on the Avenue through the forest toward Falkin. The morning was grey, but that hadn’t dampened his spirits in the least. Nor had the rain that began to fall several miles outside the city gates. However, when he reached the port city and most of the marketers had been chased away, he started to lose hope. Then as he made his way toward the docks, a great commotion had drawn a crowd. The ship from which he was to get his supplies had just come in completely devoid of cargo save for the captain and a half-dozen dead crew members. By the time he realized his livelihood was at stake, he began to despair in earnest.
“No wine.” He sighed as he squished down the muddy road toward home. “No grain. How on earth will we make bread with no grain?” The mare whinnied, seeming to understand his dilemma. “The tavern will be ruined. Just ruined.”
The heavy-hearted companions continued toward home slowly. It was nearly nightfall when they came upon the forest at the edge of Kaspar. “Ah.” Thaddeus sighed. “Be it ever so humble.”
The wagon rolled over the rocky path, skirting the trees with creaks and groans. He looked up at the trees that rose beside him in the gloom of twilight. It seemed they were the gnarled bodies of witches, looming over him and dancing obscenely. He began thinking about what he was going to tell Sera. Without any grain—grain that he’d already paid for—they were in serious trouble.
Thaddeus slowed the wagon as much as he could. He didn’t want to get home any faster than he had to. In fact, when he came to the break in the path, he thought he’d take the longer way through the forest. He’d never been that way before and if he was lucky, it might add a few more minutes to his journey. Sure enough, when he came to the fork, he steered the old mare down the new path, leaving his troubles behind on the familiar avenue.
The farther into the forest he traveled, the more lost Thaddeus became. He knew he’d been plodding away for hours, yet nothing looked familiar. Surely he should be nearly home by now. The sun had set long ago, and now the blue-grey sparkle of the gloaming had faded to the midnight blue of night. He pulled up tight on the reigns and leapt down to the ground to orient himself. He looked left and right, noticing that the clean cut of the path had become overgrown with vegetation. At some point, he must have steered from the hoof-worn trail and into the wilds of the forest. He sat down on the ground and put his head in his hands. What was he going to do now? His livelihood lost, his plans ruined, and now he was lost. Hopelessly lost. He could do nothing but sob as he thought about the dark turn his life had taken.
After a few moments, he looked up and wiped his eyes on his kerchief. Imagine that, a near-sixty year old man crying like a spoiled child in the road. He was so glad that no one was around to see him. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a light coming from somewhere deep in the wood. He squinted, trying to make out the outline of what lay ahead, but could only see the starburst of light given off by whatever it was.
“Is that a house up there?” he asked aloud.
The horse only whinnied in reply, so he began walking toward it, leading her behind him. As he got closer, he noticed the trees began to curve overhead in a broad canopy, leading toward the light. Thaddeus could feel that he was getting close to something, and his spirits began to lift. Before he knew it, the canopy of trees had led him into a vast garden. Even in the darkness of night, he could make out the magnificent display of floral delights. The perfume of nightshade and belladonna wafted past his nose, making him sigh with the ecstasy of their scents. Wildflowers and hydrangea dotted the path here and there with lush ferns and cherry blossoms rising all around. He was near drunk with the beauty of this haven, and he longed to lie down in the bough of the trees and rest for the night, but he had to get back to the inn. Sera, Penny, and little Sascha would be expecting him soon.
“The gifts!” he exclaimed, realizing that during the day’s misery, he’d forgotten all about the gifts he’d promised the girls.
What would he say to them when he returned empty-handed and penniless? As if the angels had been listening, a splotch of red caught his eye. As he turned, he saw the most beautiful rose bush standing alone in the corner of the garden. Seemingly hidden from the rest of the garden, the roses growing between the thorny branches of this bush were much larger than any others he’d ever seen. Their petals opened gently to reveal centers of deepest onyx. The rain from the earlier storms still clung to the edges of the plant, giving the roses a glossy look that only added to their magnificence.
“I promised Sascha a rose, and a rose she shall have.” It was no secret that the little slave girl was the most favored in his household, and to deny her this one wish would have hurt his heart absolutely. With the gentlest of touches, he leaned forward and grasped the most glorious of all the blooms, plucking it carefully so as not to pierce his skin with the thorns. He brought the flower up under his nose and inhaled the sweet scent. He cradled the rose in his hand, not wanting to damage something so blissfully delicate.
Thaddeus turned and started back toward the wagon when he noticed that the old mare shied. She whinnied again and pulled at the bridle anxiously. He paused, staring into the darkness around them. The only other time he’d seen her act so strangely was when a wolf had been nosing around the edge of town. She was old, but her sense of smell was keen. Something had spooked her.
“Come on, girl. We’ve stayed too long,” he whispered, pulling at the reins to go back through the canopy. Perhaps they could get back to the more familiar avenue before too long and make it home before dawn.
“Indeed you have,” a voice boomed from somewhere in the shadows. “Far too long.”
Thaddeus stopped short, afraid to turn and face the speaker, for he knew the voice all too well. “Lord M-Marek,” he stuttered, gripping the leather straps at the horse’s side. “Thank heavens you found me…”
“On the contrary, old man, it is you who has found me.” Marek stepped into the moonlight, towering over Thaddeus threateningly.
Longwillow bowed deeply, stepping away from the larger man and nearly falling over. “Begging your pardon, I was returning from the markets in Falkin and got lost on the way home. I saw your light…perhaps you could help me.”
“You’ve strayed far from the road to end up here. My lands extend nearly to Falkin itself.” Drawing closer, Marek spied the rose clutched in Thaddeus’ hand, and he narrowed his eyes. “What do you have there, held so lovingly?”
Thaddeus was puzzled a moment, forgetting all about the rose until Marek indicated it with a nod of his head. “Oh, this?” he exclaimed, his voice climbing an octave. “You see, I promised my serving girl a rose and…”
“You plucked a rose from my garden?” Though it was dark, Thaddeus could see the way in which Marek tensed his jaw with contained anger. “How dare you steal from me, old man!” His voice became a low growl as his eyes darkened to a fiery orange. “Have you any idea of the penalty for stealing from one of noble blood?”
Thaddeus shook with the impact of Lord Marek’s voice. Everyone knew it was not wise to anger him. Pushing all sense of pride aside, he threw himself at Marek’s feet. “Oh please, my lord...I didn’t know it was
your garden. It was only a simple gift…”
“Get up.” Marek snarled, kicking the other man off of his boot. He paced back and forth, rubbing the rough stubble at his chin. The law of the land stated that any man stealing from anyone of royal blood was subject to immediate execution. But despite Marek’s reputation for ruthlessness and being ill tempered, he couldn’t kill a man for plucking a rose. Even a rose as exquisite and unusual as the ones on that particular bush. And the old man was obviously sincere in his intentions. He had a peculiar intuition about such things. “A law has been broken and therefore a debt must be paid,” he said, his voice softening slightly.
“I will do whatever you wish, my lord,” Thaddeus stammered, still crawling on his knees pitifully. “I did not wish to offend you.”
“Your endless groveling offends me, old man.” He turned and looked down at him. “The law says I can kill you.”
Thaddeus nodded, a heavy sob escaping. “Yes, my lord…”
“But I hardly think a rose is worth a man’s life. So, I’ll tell you what. I’ll make you a bargain. The flowers from that bush are quite precious to me, but I will sell you just that one for a thousand gold pieces.”
Thaddeus paled. “My lord!” he exclaimed breathlessly. “I’ve never even seen a thousand gold pieces, much less carried them. I do not have that sort of wealth.”
“Do you own land in Kaspar?” He smirked, knowing very well that the innkeeper did. This was not the first time he’d seen Thaddeus Longwillow.
“No land, sire, but the inn…The Golden Goblet, it belongs to me.”
“Wrong. From now on, it belongs to me.”
“But sire, how will I live? The inn is my only means to survive…” His voice trailed off in a flurry of panicked words that amused Lord Marek, though his face was stoic.
“Quite right, old man. I couldn’t take your only means of support.” He crossed his arms over his chest and began to pace again. “Hmmm....” He sighed. “You have nothing else of value?”
Thaddeus thought hard, wondering what a poor innkeeper could possibly have that would be of interest to Lord Marek. One thought came immediately to his mind, though he wracked his brain for another option. But after careful consideration, he realized this was the only way to save his own life. “Well...there is one thing...I own one slave. Sascha.”
Marek ceased his pacing almost immediately, considering Longwillow’s words. “Alright, old man. You have until tomorrow at sundown to bring this slave to me.” He turned, stalking toward Thaddeus menacingly. “If you neglect to arrive, I’ll kill you. If she does not agree and sends you back in her place, I will kill you.” Each of his threats came accented with a move closer to the old innkeeper until he had backed him against the wagon. “If she displeases me in any way, I will kill her and then I’ll kill you.”
Thaddeus nodded his head wildly, trying desperately to escape the cold stare of the beastly man in front of him. “Yes, my lord. I will bring her here. She’s a good girl...just please...be kind…”
Marek interrupted him with a wide smile that showed the points of his teeth. “I will keep my own counsel on the treatment of slaves.” He backed off smugly, patting the rose that Longwillow still clutched to his chest before stalking off into the darkness. “By sundown!” he called over his shoulder before leaving.
Chapter 3
Sascha flopped across her bed with a heavy sigh. With Mr. Longwillow gone, there had been twice the work, and she was exhausted. Not to mention Penny had been twice as cruel with no one there to rein her in. Sascha’s legs ached, and she knew when she took her shoes off her feet would be cracked and bleeding. Her shabby, little room was the only safe haven she had in this place. A small shelf in the corner contained a few books she’d salvaged over her years of servitude. She had been given an old wardrobe to store her clothes in, although the door was falling off on one side and she had to keep a rock under one of the legs to keep it from tipping over, but at least it was something. Sascha’s life here was so much different than it had been. Her parents had never been rich, but they’d loved her. Her mother had been struck with a fever just before her ninth birthday. No one was sure how she’d gotten it, but one thing of which they were certain, she was going to die with it. She held on for nearly a month before passing away, leaving her husband with fields full of rotting crops, a tremendous debt to be paid to the landlord, and a daughter that was too young to not have a mother. Sascha didn’t blame him for his decision to sell her to Mr. Longwillow. She knew it had been an unfair decision to make either way—sold to Mr. Longwillow or given to Lord Marek as payment.
She lay on the bed nearly asleep when she heard a commotion coming from downstairs. She sat up, pausing to decide if it was real or just a fragment of her dream. When she heard Sera’s shrieking, she realized it must be real. She reached out for her robe and realized that she had fallen asleep in her clothes. She shrugged and made her way sleepily down to the tavern below.
****
“My dress! You promised me a dress, Papa!” Sera wailed as she stomped around the room.
“Sera! My darling daughter,” Thaddeus whimpered. “Didn’t you hear what I said? The ship with all of my supplies was robbed by pirates. They took everything. The money is gone.”
“You’d have brought my dress if you’d wanted to.” She pouted. “You just don’t love me enough.”
“Of course I do, angel,” he soothed, reaching out to take his daughter’s hand, only to have it snatched from his grasp. “But the money. The inn…”
“Who cares about the silly inn?” She plopped down on a barstool with her head in her hands. She was still brooding as Sascha emerged from the corridor, looking around to see about the commotion.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, lighting the lantern at the bar with her own candle. “I heard shouting.”
As soon as Thaddeus saw Sascha, a nervous burning welled up in his chest. How was he going to tell her that he’d had to give her to Lord Marek to save his own life? “Yes, Sascha dear. Everything is fine…”
“Easy for you to say,” Sera grumbled. Sascha ignored her.
“Are you certain, Mr. Longwillow? You look pale.” She looked from Thaddeus to Sera, wondering what had changed since the morning.
“I’m tired, child,” he said weakly. “Sera, could you leave us alone for a bit, love?” Sera looked up at her father in disbelief. “It will only be for a moment.” Sera didn’t reply, but snatched the candle out of Sascha’s hand and walked angrily toward the staircase. Both waited until the creaking on the stairs subsided and they heard Sera’s door slam behind her.
“What is it, Mr. Longwillow?” Sascha asked. “What can I do to help you?”
“I am afraid, Sascha…” His voice caught in his throat and for a moment, he feared that he may actually cry. “That I have made a terrible mistake.”
“How so?”
Thaddeus reached into his jacket and pulled from it the withered red rose that he had stolen from Lord Marek’s garden. He held it out to her, and her eyes lit up with delight. “I brought you the rose you asked for…”
“Oh, Mr. Longwillow!” she exclaimed in a breathless whisper. “It’s so beautiful! Thank you!”
“No, no, dear. Don’t be thanking me yet. I’m afraid that rose came with a terrible price.” He hung his head, not wanting to relay the story, but knowing that he must. “Because of a silly misunderstanding...I’ve...I’ve angered Lord Marek.”
Sascha’s breath caught, and she brought her hands to her mouth. “Oh, Mr. Longwillow.”
He patted her hand, trying to smile reassuringly. “It’s all right, child. Only…” He heaved a heavy sigh and looked away from her, trying to find the right words to make her understand his dilemma. He searched the walls and was depressed to find that there were no answers to be found. He’d have to just spit it out. “You know why your father brought you to me all those years ago?”
“He had to have the money to pay the taxes on our farm.�
�
Longwillow nodded and took her hand firmly in his. “Marek was going to take all of his property, including you, my dear.” Sascha’s face fell and she nodded resolutely. “Your father didn’t want to abandon you to that sort of fate, so he sold you to me. To work in my tavern as my slave, but you must understand, Sascha. I’ve never thought of you as my slave.” He shook his head violently, squinting his eyes shut as if to cast off the terrible truth. “No...I can’t do this! I simply can’t!”
“Ssshhh....” Sascha soothed, drawing her fingertips lightly over his brow. “Do not grieve so, Mr. Longwillow. Whatever it is, I will understand.”
A look in her cool blue eyes and he believed her. Such a kind soul she was. A spineless, old man like him did not deserve her kindness. “Lord Marek says that I must bring you to him. To be his slave in payment for my offense.” He saw her forehead wrinkle as her eyes widened with fear. Her lip began to tremble almost before he got the words out, and he paused. “But it is I who has brought this upon you. I should never have strayed from that path! I will go in your place and if he sees fit to kill me…”
“No!” Sascha gasped, taking hold of his arm. “I will not let you die in my stead. You’ve been like a father to me,” she answered evenly, putting on an expression of bravery. “How could I repay your kindness by letting you die for me?” She stood and kissed him gently on top of the head. “Everything will work out.” She started back toward the stairs and stopped, turning back. “When should I be prepared to leave?”
“He said that I had until sundown tomorrow to deliver you. But, Sascha, are you certain this is what you want?”
“What I want? No,” she replied. “But what choice do we have?”
Chapter 4
Beast of Burden Page 2