HONOR BOUND (The Spare Heir)

by Southwick, Michael G.

  “Actually,” Jorem said as he set down his spoon, “it felt kind of nice to be treated like a normal person. Having a lady treat me as if I were kin isn’t an experience I’m used to. But it sure beats being fawned over. So are you the one who gets to cover for Linda tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” she said with a resigned sigh. “I should’ve knowed better. You was the one that stayed, and willingly too. Not like them others. They was like whipped pups with their tail between their legs a runnin’ fer home. If it’s them as is gonna’ rule after the King, I sure hope that weapons guy can knock some sense into them.”

  “Weapons Master Gregorio,” Jorem replied, nodding. “If it can be done, he’s the man to do it. Given free reign, I think he could turn a blind man into an expert archer.”

  “Well, here’s hopin,” she said. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she yelled over her shoulder at a table of men complaining about not being served. “You best finish up and get some sleep,” she said to Jorem as she walked away.

  As tired as he felt Jorem decided to do just that. Morning was going to come all too soon as it was. Soaking up the last drops of stew with a piece of bread and washing it down with a drink of cold water Jorem finished his meal. Once in his room he slipped off his boots and lay down on the bed. He had intended to put on his nightclothes but his weariness overcame him and he fell asleep as he was.

  Chapter XIV

  It couldn’t have been more than a moment or two after Jorem had fallen asleep when there was a tapping at his door. The door creaked open and a candle floated into his room.

  A child’s voice whispered, “Master Jorem, its morning sire”.

  “Not master,” Jorem said groggily, thinking this had to be a dream. “It’s just Jorem”.

  “Master or no, ‘tis still morning,” the child’s voice said unperturbed. “Biorne said I was to wake you.”

  Jorem sat up and ran his hand through is hair. “What time is it?” he asked of the boy who had awakened him.

  “It’ll be sun up in about a mark”, the boy said as he lit a candle on the nightstand next to Jorem’s bed. “Cook’s got hot nut bread with honey and juice waitin’ for you.”

  Without waiting for a response the boy turned and left the room. Jorem sat there for a moment trying to wake up. There was a basin of water on the nightstand so Jorem splashed some on his face. He dampened his hair and ran his fingers through it to straighten it a little. The cold water helped a little but his mind still felt numb. He hadn’t slept so hard in a long time. Nor had he been required to get up so early after a hard day’s work.

  When he arrived at the blacksmith’s shop he found a lantern hanging on a peg next to the door. Opening the door Jorem saw that the room was dark. Lifting the lantern from the peg he walked into the room. From the chill in the room Jorem could tell that the fire in the forge had not been stoked. Not sure what to do, Jorem stood for a moment and looked around. He was just about to go looking for the smith when the door opened behind him.

  “Mornin’ lad.” Franks deep voice resonated off of the walls. “Perth—that is, the Dukes son—has invited me and my family to witness his knighting. I thought he might be willing to have you there as well but I fear he holds you as responsible for Ben’s injuries as your kin. So if you’re of a mind to you can sweep up around here or, if not, you can take the day off.”

  Jorem thought about his options for a moment then said, “I’m already here and if there’s many that feel as Pertheron does it’d probably be best if I kept out of sight for a while.”

  “Probably just as well,” Franks said. “People around here don’t think much of the royal family. The Duke does a fair job for the locals but we don’t see much benefit from the throne for all the taxes we pay.”

  Jorem wasn’t sure what to say so he just shrugged his shoulders. He knew he should defend his father, but he didn’t know enough about the situation. He did know that his father spent a lot of time dealing with problems throughout the kingdom. He had seen it himself during some of the council sessions that he had been at. One of the councilors would read a request from some province or another and there would be a discussion of how to deal with the problem. Occasionally, in an urgent matter, a messenger would arrive and inform the council directly, but that was very rare.

  “What kind of help do you need that the Duke can’t deal with? Is there a problem with bandits that would require a larger force than the duke commands?” Jorem asked.

  “Not the usual bandits, no. Perth has a special group of guard that takes care o’ them.” Franks’ pride in his future son-in-law was obvious in his tone of voice. “Outlaws have learned to steer clear of the valley. It’s the strange stuff that we want the king to help with.”

  “What do you mean by ‘strange stuff?’” Jorem ask curiously.

  Franks thought for a moment. “Mostly I suppose it’s the things that seem like magic. Like animals or even people disappearing from the fields, gone as if the ground had swallowed them up. It don’t happen often, mind you, but when it does it sets the seeds of fear in your soul.”

  Jorem couldn’t help the look of doubt that showed on his face. What Franks had said sounded like a tale to scare children into behaving.

  “Why, just last pass, Dell lost one of his best milk cows. He had his boy out minding the herd and that cow just disappeared. All anybody ever found was some blood splattered on a tree. The boy swears he never even heard a whisper of a sound. Wouldn’t hurt none if the King would do something about the day of the Folk like King Grendith done neither.”

  Jorem’s attention perked up at the mention of his grandfather and the Folk. “The day of the Folk?”

  “You’ve not heard of the Folk?” Franks asked in surprise.

  “I read a book about them once, but it didn’t say anything about a day of the Folk,” Jorem replied. “What is it and what did King Grendith have to do with it?”

  “Well, mind you, it was before my time, but the oldsters say that the Folk used to terrorize the country right regular. Then Grendith comes along an he gives em what for. After that they kept to themselves and things was right peaceful. Wasn’t till years after King Grendith died that the problems started up again. Oh, it’s not as bad as they say it used to be. Once or twice a year the Folk come tearing through a screamin and a hollerin. They take any young ones they find and ride off with ‘em. Nobody knows where they come from nor where they go. They just appear of a sudden and disappear like ghosts.”

  “Has anyone told the King about these problems?” Jorem ask. “Has the Duke sent a request for help or a messenger to explain the problem to the King’s council?”

  Franks scratched his chin as he replied. “I don’t know that he has. The Duke is a mighty proud man. Askin’ for help wouldn’t be an easy thing for him to do.”

  Jorem cocked his head to one side. “Isn’t it a bit much to expect the King to fix a problem that he doesn’t even know about?”

  The smith’s eyebrows rose at the question. “Never really thought about it like that. Maybe I’ll ask the Duke about it when I see him today. Speaking of the Duke, I’d best be getting ready to go. Jannett will have my hide if’n we’re late for the ceremonies. There’s a barrel out back by the cinder pile for sweepings and such. Don’t go throwing anything away. Lot’s of stuff in here that needs fixin might look like junk.

  “Oh, an’ tomorrow’s Firstday so we won’t be working the forge. The wife gets upset if I work on Firstday. Better peace in the home than food on the plate, I say. You’ll have every Firstday off. Don’t know which of the Gods you pray to, but there’s a number of temples in town. Just ask Biorne and he can tell you where they are.”

  “I’ll be fine, sir”, Jorem replied. “Like I said before, I think I’ll keep a low profile for a while.”

  The smith nodded in understanding. “I’ll leave you to it then,” he said, then turned and left.

  Jorem looked from one end of the room to the other trying to decide where to start. Cle
aning wasn’t new to him. He had helped Pentrothe clean the workshop many times. After considering it for a moment Jorem decided to work from the far end of the room to the end of the room with the piles of rocks. It took longer to find the broom than he had thought it would but eventually he found one. For a dustpan he had to settle for a flat-bladed shovel.

  It was a slow process. He constantly had to stop to pick various things up off of the floor. The tools that he found he put on one of the tables. All of the other oddments he brushed off and set by the wall. By mid-day he was a little more than halfway across the room so he decided to take a break and get something to eat. He brushed himself off as best he could and washed his hands and face at the water barrel. He had been busy enough that he hadn’t noticed how hungry he was. As he dried his hands his stomach growled, letting him know that first meal had been some time ago. From now on, Jorem decided, hot or cold he would have some cereal in the mornings. The bread and juice he’d had for firstmeal wasn’t enough to last.

  The inn was packed with people when Jorem got there. He had to snake his way through the crowd to get to the area that had been set up for serving the large crowd. When he finally got a plate of food he decided it would be far more comfortable to eat outside than to remain inside. Jorem seated himself on the edge of the porch and began nibbling at the cubes of meat and cheese. It was a little cool outside but not cold enough to be uncomfortable.

  It wasn’t long after he had started to eat that others joined him on the porch. Shortly after that the serving girls started to include the porch on their rounds with food and drinks. Thankfully, Daisy was understanding of his hunger and gave him extra helpings as she passed by him until he was finally full. The men eating around Jorem acted as if he weren’t even there. Not that being ignored bothered him, but it was unusual not to at least hear a comment on proper princely behavior. Then again, Jorem supposed, he wasn’t exactly dressed like a prince.

  Having finished his meal, Jorem handed his plate to a passing server and started walking back to the blacksmith’s shop. Stepping off the front porch of the inn Jorem passed a man who had just ridden up on horseback. The man was large and bearded, wearing dark leather clothing of a rich cut. The horse was a magnificent animal, one of the largest Jorem had ever seen. The horse’s coat was black as night, so dark it shimmered with blue highlights.

  “Boy,” the man yelled so suddenly that it startled Jorem and caused him to turn to the man.

  When Jorem turned the large man tossed the reins of the horse at him. “Stable my mount and see that he’s well cared for.” Without another word the man stalked off into the inn.

  Jorem was too surprised to speak as he watched the man leave. He looked back at the horse to see that it stood patiently waiting to be led to the stables. The people gathered on the porch weren’t even paying any attention to him as he stood there with the horse. Looking down at himself he realized that the man had mistaken him for a servant. With the coarse clothing and splotches of dirt and grime he had accumulated during his morning’s cleaning it would be an easy mistake to make. Gathering up the reins, Jorem headed toward the stables behind the inn. The horse plodded along behind him, apparently accustomed to being left with strangers.

  As Jorem approached the stables a skinny, gray-haired old man came out to meet him. The man’s nose must have been broken several times it was so crooked. He grinned at Jorem, revealing a number of missing teeth. There were also a number of scars running across the man’s face. If it hadn’t been for his small size and agreeable expression Jorem would likely have turned and run for safety.

  “That there looks t’be Broadworth’s horse,” the man said.

  “A big man with a beard, wearing black leather clothes told me to bring him here,” Jorem replied.

  “That sounds like Broadworth alright,” the man said, scratching his chin. “You steer clear of him, lad. Like as not he’ll cuff you for being too close to his all importantness. Biorne hire you on to help out?”

  “No sir, I’m helping the blacksmith while his son is mending. I figured it was better to do as the man said and avoid causing a problem.”

  The man squinted at Jorem and cocked his head to the side. “If you’re helping out Franks over to the smithy, wouldn’t that make you the son of the King? You don’t look like no prince I ever heard of.”

  “My name is Jorem and you’re right, I don’t look like a prince. I never have. I’m here to make amends for what was done to Ben, not to be a prince.”

  The grin on the man’s face grew wider. “If that’s the case then it’s a pleasure to meet you, Jorem. They call me Shelby. I tend to the horses and whatnot. If you’d be so kind as to put ol’ Killer here in the last stall on the left, I’d be obliged.”

  ”Killer?” Jorem asked, looking incredulously at the horse behind him. The horse’s eyes were closed and it breathed a deep sigh as it began to fall asleep.

  “Don’t let his mild behavior fool you”, Shelby said with a laugh. “He’s what you’d call a sheep in wolf’s clothing. Why, he could nearly deafen a man with his snoring, not to mention what would happen if he fell on you.”

  Shelby slapped the big, black gelding on the rump. The horse looked at the interrupter of his sleep with big, sad eyes, then ambled after Jorem as he was led into the stables. The sound of the heavy clomping of the horse’s hooves reminded Jorem how big this horse was. Gentle though he may be, it wouldn’t be wise to get underfoot. It was a good thing Killer was so gentle. If not there would be no way a boy of Jorem’s size could control him.

  On his way out of the stables, having left Killer snoozing in a shadowy stall, Jorem noticed some buckets next to the doorway. The buckets had holes in the sides or bottoms. They would require mending if they were ever to be used to hold water. ‘But they’d do for holding other things’, Jorem thought as an idea came to his mind. Looking about, Jorem spotted Shelby sitting on a stool just outside the door mending a harness.

  “Could I have some of these buckets?” Jorem ask.

  Shelby looked at Jorem for a moment before answering. “They’re no good. They’ve all got holes in them. I just haven’t gotten around to getting rid of them.”

  “They’ll do fine for what I have in mind,” Jorem returned. “How much do you want for them?”

  “You haul them off for me and they’re yours. Wouldn’t be right to charge you for something like that,” Shelby said shaking his head. “If you’ve got a use for them they’re yours.”

  “Thank you sir,” Jorem said as he gathered up the buckets and headed back to the smithy.

  As Shelby watched Jorem walking away, he scratched his chin and muttered to himself. “Now what would a lad want with holey buckets?” Shaking his head again he went back to repairing the harness.

  Chapter XV

  When Jorem got back to the smithy he left the buckets on the floor just inside the door and got back to work. He worked steadily through the afternoon sweeping and straightening. He tried to put the things he found in some semblance of order. He separated the various tangles of metal into groups that seemed to go together. The odds and ends that didn’t seem to go with anything else went into a pile in a corner of the room. When he finally reached the other end of the room, not only was he exhausted, he felt as though he had been rolling in a pile of grime. His hands were black and his clothes were filthy. There were still some things that he wanted to get done, but for the moment he needed a break.

  Stepping outside to brush himself off, Jorem found that the sun was setting. The shadows from the forest stretched to cover the open ground. Somehow while he was working he had lost track of time and now the day was nearly gone. After washing his hands and face he decided to get something to eat and then come back to finish. There were just a few more things he wanted to get done before Franks returned to inspect his work.

  When Jorem got to the inn it was practically deserted. A young boy, probably the same one that had woken him that morning, was sitting by the fire. The b
oy eyed Jorem with some trepidation. As Jorem approached the boy visibly relaxed as he recognized who Jorem was.

  “Everybody’s gone to the knighting ceremony cept’n fer Daisy and me,” the boy said. “The cook left a plate of stuff to eat in the kitchen if’n yer hungry. Daisy’s in there washing up dishes and stuff.”

  “Thanks,” Jorem said as he headed for the kitchen.

  As Jorem pushed his way through the swinging kitchen door he saw Daisy stooped over a sink full of soapsuds and dishes. To one side of the sink was a pile of neatly stacked clean plates and mugs. On the other side of the sink there was a mound of plates, mugs, pots and pans with a variety of food and grime on them. When Daisy heard him coming in she turned to see whom it was. At the sight of him she wrinkled her nose in disdain.

  “You are filthy,” she said. “You just stay over there away from my clean dishes. What in blazes ‘ave you been doing to get in such a state?”

  Jorem smiled at her and shrugged. “Would you believe I’ve been cleaning?” he asked.

  “What did you do, use yourself as the cleaning rag?” she teased. “Sit yourself down over there an I’ll get you a plate of something. Maybe I should make you wash and change first.”

  “I’m going back after I eat so there’s no point in changing,” Jorem told her.

  “Franks is working you that hard?” she asked with concern in her voice.

  “No, it’s not that,” Jorem explained. “I just want to do a good job for him. I’m not big enough to do the heavy stuff that needs doing. So until I learn enough about what needs to be done I’m going to have to do what I can as best as I can.”

  “Don’t you worry none about being big enough,” Daisy said as she piled a plate with cold sliced meat, cheese and bread. “You’ll grow soon enough, especially if’n you keep eatin the way you do.”

  Daisy set the plate of food along with a large mug on a table in a corner of the room. Jorem sat down and started eating. Even though it was a cold meal it still tasted wonderful. Jorem was sure that the meat was beef but he had never tasted anything like it. Unusual flavors mingled together to create a taste that urged him to take another bite. Picking up the mug and taking a swallow he was surprised to find that it was milk.