Squire Hayseed

by S E Zbasnik

  Sucking in tighter to herself, Hayley muttered, “Yes.”

  Finn didn’t leave, but he stopped trying to pick her up at least. Folding his arms tight, he asked, “Why?”

  “Because!” She was so sick and tired of having to explain herself. Explain why she stole. Explain why she was bad. Explain why she couldn’t read. Explain why she had to become a squire. Explain why she let Marco die.

  And what gave him the right to question her? To judge her for it? He didn’t know what it was like to be her. To be always on the run. To never look back. To always be hungry, always cold, always looking over her shoulder. To think for even a minute that she might be worth someone’s attention beyond what little gain she could provide.

  “I deserve it,” she whimpered instead, her head falling to her chest. Rain pooled on the crown of her cap, running off the three sides in drenching waterfalls as it struck her shoulders and back. Slamming her eyes tight, Hayley wrapped her arms to herself as the cold seeped up her legs. It always started at her toes, where the right one lost two nails, and traveled upward. So she’d never ever forget as hard as she tried.

  “Hayseed,” Finn breathed. “It’s…” He drew a hand back over his hair, slicking all the short red fibers back in one draw. “I’m…that thing that I…did. Said. It wasn’t that I wanted to-to hurt you. I only wanted, really wanted to…blighted bollocks on toast!”

  He fell silent again, his head turned to the rain while Hayley remained in the mud. Each pang of the water struck deeper and deeper to her hide, as if all of the armor she grew over her life began to wash away. Soon it’d reach her heart and then what would be left?

  “I watched someone die,” her lips breathed through the chill, the words forming a haunting puff of smoke.

  Finn swallowed a moment before dropping down on his haunches. “You told me.”

  Her head twisted back and forth slowly. “No. Not…not then. Now.”

  “Now?” he sounded confused and agitated. “Do you mean during your trip?”

  She watched how he pursed his face tight, unwilling to listen to her. Unwilling to think that her brain was a half-eaten mushroom anymore, constantly surging with dark memories and pain. With a shrug against the pelting rain, she said, “Sure. Fine. I can’t do this.”

  “Yes you can,” Finn began, not even knowing what she was complaining about. Getting out of the mud? Talking to him again? Facing another day?

  “You don’t understand!” she screamed, so tired of being talked over, talked through. With her hands flat, she slapped the puddles. Muddy water sprayed up, dousing her cheeks and lips, trying to slip into her throat and clog it shut. Hayley barely noticed it, her eyes upon the pink sting rising on her palms.

  “What do you want to do?” Finn asked.

  She told Gavin she’d keep being his squire because what else could she do? Nowhere wanted her, no one wanted her. It was a farce, a lie he’d figure out soon enough. He’d toss her away from this life as quick as he kicked her away for kissing him.

  Sucking in her tears, Hayley jammed her stinging palms deep into her armpits for warmth. “I wanna stay here,” she spat out, her head hanging down.

  “Okay,” Finn said. Easing into the mud, he planted his ass beside Hayley. When she turned to watch, he yanked off his oil-slicked coat and held it above both their heads. At her look, he shrugged. “So we don’t both catch our deaths and get henpecked by Gravy.”

  Gasping in surprise, Hayley launched for him. Both of her frozen arms wrapped around his chest, her rain-stung cheeks burrowing into the warm oasis above his heart. Finn didn’t touch her, he kept his hands extended high to try and ward off the rain. But he did whisper, “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

  She had no idea how long she sat in the rain, but when Hayley stomped through the doors of the little house Gavin glanced over and gasped, “Did you drown in the river?”

  More than puddles, moats formed around her feet, circling her body as if to protect her — or lock her away from everyone. Hayley lifted up her arms staring down at the clothing plastered to her freezing skin. When she dropped both hands a wet sucking noise erupted from deep inside her, causing the girl to wince. It sounded rude. Certainly rude enough to make her knight draw his eyes back to the fire.

  God that sounded nice. Hayley didn’t realize how frozen solid she was until she tried to rise in the tampering off drizzle. It cut deep to her bone, her skin trembling in random patches as if to shake it all away.

  “I was in the rain,” Hayley muttered, having no explanation. She didn’t know why she panicked, why she ran, or why she squatted in the mud with Finn barely speaking anything and crying for ages.

  No doubt her eyes were still red and raw as if she rubbed onions into them. Gavin glanced over his shoulder once more, no doubt his tongue about to wag at her for making a wet mess on the floor, when he sighed. “You should change, dry off before you catch your death.”

  That word drew a full-on shudder to Hayley’s body. Death. Damn thing was everywhere. She thought she would catch it sometimes in the edge of her eye; a vulture circling just out of sight but waiting. Knowing one day it’d get its turn.

  Bobbing her head, Hayley walked to her little room in the pantry. Every step squelched deeper as if she jammed wet mud into her fists and kept squishing it. Gavin could barely hide his shiver at the noise before Hayley rounded the stone room, now holding two drying rabbits. She froze. Where there’d been an open space with shelves and barrels of pickled stuff now was a slab of wood.

  “There’s a door here?” she asked, uncertain if she imagined it. Hayley lay her hand flat upon the unpolished wood.

  “Yes, I put it up earlier. Thought you might…” her knight swallowed deep, his voice cracking, “You would require your private space.”

  She was never, ever going to live that stupid kiss down. Still. Picking up the latch, Hayley slipped inside the more or less same pantry now cut off from the rest of the house. The arrow slit windows were still in place, but one would have to place their eye directly next to them to get a hint of her inside.

  Hayley wiggled a finger through the gap in the stones, waiting to see if any more rain landed upon the digit. A few drops plopped in place, but the deluge seemed to have greatly slowed. Satisfied, she tugged off her clothing fast. That had to count as a good wash, at least. No reason to do it again.

  Hanging both the tunic and mud-spattered leggings on the bed, she yanked out an old, slightly puckered sweater. It smelled like the sheep it came from, and the armpits were itchy, but it hung loosely off her body and nearly down to her knees. Falling into a warm, wool hug that didn’t require her to risk herself for it, Hayley slithered a set of hose on over her wet legs.

  There was so much grunting and cursing, Gavin called from the other room to check on her. It wasn’t easy in the tiny pantry, but Hayley managed. She yanked off her cap, trying to tousle the partially submerged hair but it was going to cling to her neck no matter what she did. For a moment, she placed the old blue hat on her bed to dry along with the rest, when she winced.

  Her heart was yet thundering in her chest as if Hayley ran from the edge of the estate to the manor house while horses chased her. It was stupid. She knew there were no hunters out, no evil knights with red eyes clutching fiery swords, but the panic wouldn’t leave. Rolling her wet hair into a knot, Hayley stuffed it all under her damp cap and finally strolled out to her knight.

  Gavin filled the full seat of the armchair. Usually, he’d be perched on an edge as if he couldn’t wait to leap free and rush to a new problem. Today was different, or maybe he was different — his entire back swaddled by a blanket hung on the chair and cushioning his head. As Hayley inched closer, she spotted the reason why. By the glint of the fire, he was counting through the pillaged lockbox.

  “Is there anything left?” fell from her lips.

  The lagging spine straightened immediately, Gavin not rushing to hide away his remaining riches, but he did whip his head to her. “Why
do you care?”

  “Just…” She drew her warm tongue over her frozen lips still chapped and bruised from the road. “Wondering. It sounded like a lot to…free them all.”

  No doubt he figured Hayley had made plans to do something nefarious with his coin. Having it all get swiped out from under them both would have put a crimp in such plans if she’d thought for two seconds she could get away with it. Gavin rattled his box once more, the clink sounding as poor a country church’s donation plate.

  “It was for a good cause,” he said slowly.

  “Sure, sure, and the rest of ‘em were less than willing to fork over enough to it,” Hayley spat. She didn’t know shit about finances and the like, but she could tell when people were patting their pockets loudly to make a show of how they really, really didn’t want to contribute.

  Gavin’s amber eyes shot up to her and she gulped. “Everyone gave what they could. The Order is only as strong as its numbers. Without those we are nothing.” He sounded like he’d been repeating that to himself a lot, to the point even he might buy it. Hayley understood that losing so much coin was a big deal, especially the kind you tried to earn honestly. But he seemed really down from it. About to jump off a cliff down over it. Like there was something else she was missing as to why he needed all those riches.

  Maybe it was like the rest of ‘em. Gavin was pooling his gold for the fancier wines and upscale women. His mystery blonde woman seemed to be super upscale compared to the others who traveled with the armies.

  “Ser…?” Hayley whispered, patting both her limp hands together. When he finally turned to her, she asked, “What comes next?”

  “You wonder how we can continue on as before?” he asked, his lips stretched in a grim smile. “After what you’ve seen, after the losses…taken to us all, how do you return to what once was and not be different?”

  Gavin scooted closer to the fire, elbows dug into his thighs as he tented his fingers together in thought. “How do you pick up that same sword again, even if your blood runs hot with panic and cold with fear?”

  “I meant more should I put a kettle on for dinner or see what Ania’s got planned?” Hayley jerked her head to the manor house.

  The broken man dropped his head and laughed. “Food is a good decider in these matters. Acquiring it, keeping it, forming it, eating it.” He rose to his feet, placing the lockbox safely upon the mantle over the fire. “A light soup would be best, I think, after our travel. Wouldn’t want to inflame the humors more than they already are.”

  Hayley bobbed her head, planning to scoot away, when Gavin spoke again. The voice drifted in and out as if to himself, but why bother with her there. “I had intended to refrain from the tourney this year.”

  An impenetrable silence fell after that last word, bounding about the room and smacking into Hayley until she said, “But…”

  His head lifted, shaking back the increasingly knotted hair. “Its purse would nearly cover the coin lost to retrieve our brothers and sisters.” He seemed settled on the idea, as if there was no other option, even if it wasn’t one he wanted.

  “Why were ya gonna skip it before? I mean, if it’s that much coin, and everyone was yammering about how you’d be certain to win.”

  That caused him to blink his eyes in surprise, a hint of a blush burning on his cheeks. “They were?”

  Hayley only shrugged in response and Gavin began to pace on his little rug. He said, “In truth, I’d written off the tourney months ago.”

  “Thought it was time for someone else to have a chance?” she asked, trying to lighten the damp mood.

  “I doubted there would be much point. A knight does not fight alone,” he whispered to his walls. “The squire’s performance is taken into account as well.”

  Shit. It was all her fault. He was going to walk away from riches because she was shite at this. Because he didn’t think he could trust her. Because a few months ago he doubted he’d even have a squire.

  That never-ending burning returned to her gut, grinding her intestines like sausage and leaving her gasping. The noise drew Gavin’s eyes to her and Hayley spat out, “Why do it now? If you didn’t think you couldn’t before…”

  “It’s…a lack of options, I suppose. Squire?” He pleaded for her attention, but Hayley was trying to dig into her side. Her lungs burned and toes froze deep inside her socks. “Hayley,” Gavin’s warm voice drew her in, and he smiled, “I did not want to put the pressure upon you. To have you feel as if it were your fault. It would be a hit, to not have you fight in the rounds as well, but I may be able to overcome it.”

  She nodded coldly, her hands cinched tight to her shoulders. So he figured she’d be bad at it. Made sense. She was bad at everything she did. Even most of her survival techniques only worked thanks to good luck. Stumbling towards the pantry to fish out some old bones to make stock, Hayley paused.

  “I want to try,” she whispered to herself before turning to Gavin and declaring louder, “I want to try to fight in the squire tourneys, or however it works.”

  “That isn’t…”

  “Please. Maybe I’ll be awful, probably I’ll be awful, but anything’s gotta be better than nothing, right? And-and if I can help, just a little bit, to get you back the coin you lost, then it won’t have…” It won’t have been her fault. Maybe he wouldn’t get rid of her first chance he had. Maybe he’d even want to keep her.

  She crumbled deeper into herself, her stupid words echoing around the room. Hayley, do squire stuff? Last time she sparred against anyone, she wound up in the mud. Even Ania could kick her ass. It was so idiotic, it was doubtful Gavin would even take her to the tourney. She’d be left behind with the geese while everyone else went to fame and glory. Her face knotted up into a snarl, Hayley mentally shouting at herself for even putting out the idea.

  “Very well,” Gavin said, shattering through her self loathing.

  “You mean…?”

  “If you wish to fight, to prove yourself at the tourney, then we have work ahead of us. The tourney is not for a few more months. During the height of summer, everyone will gather to prove their skills.”

  Two months? There was no chance. She could barely shoot, could only deflect a few attacks, couldn’t stab… Her vision flashed to her trembling sword sliding right through the man’s flesh. It fought her less than she expected, folding and twisting and squishing more than the wooden dummy ever did. Blood pooling on her hands and down her arms as it heated her wet skin.

  Coughing to try and cover up her sudden downturn, Hayley said, “Forget it. It’s…two months is, there’s no chance. I’m so bad at all of it already. I’d just, can you do it without a squire? Without needing one?”

  “You think you’re without skill?” Gavin asked, his head tipped to the side.

  Hayley nodded her head vehemently. He couldn’t be that stupid, he was the one teaching her after all. If people like Erin and Larissa picked up on it, surely Gavin recognized her failures.

  Popping his lips while watching Hayley slink deeper into herself, Gavin asked, “Have you climbed the rope yet?”

  “No?” She was lost. What did the stupid rope have to do with her fighting in the tournament?

  “Forget supper,” he said, “I’ll handle the meal. You should head to the barn and climb it.”

  “Y-y-yes Ser?” Hayley walked towards the door, moving slowly to jam her boots on. She kept an eye on the knight who was rustling through the kitchen with a scrape of a song in his throat. At least he looked happy, she thought while slipping outside.

  Stomping through the eruption of puddles, Hayley stared up at the grey but rain-less sky. What was the point of her climbing the damn rope again? To prove she couldn’t do it? A reminder that in all of the squire things, Hayley was as capable as a newborn chick? Though — given some of the geese she suffered — put one in armor, send it onto the field, and it might take out an eye or two.

  She knotted her hand around the rope, glumly tugging upon it. Craning her h
ead back, she stared high at the beam and that secret message Gavin carved in those first few days Hayley arrived at the estate. He wouldn’t tell her what it was, just said she’d read it one day. Which never happened. Each time, each climb, Hayley just gave up and collapsed on the ground.

  Grunting, Hayley lunged high. Her left fist clamped tight, the shoulders tugging but not screaming as she began to rise off the ground. The rope undulated but Hayley folded with it matching the sway back and forth as she climbed higher and higher. Even knowing it was impossible, even knowing every time she fell and nearly cracked her skull, she kept going. Hand after hand, sweat stinging in her eyes, Hayley pulled her body through the sky itself.

  Her eyes burned into the rope, focusing only on the challenge. She had no concept if she got more than a few feet off the ground until her right knuckles grazed the beam. In shock, she craned her head back to find the massive red-brown wood and the eyelet for the rope both hanging in reaching distance. With one last stretch, Hayley lunged her arm fully around the beam and pulled herself up.

  She did it! She got up the stupid rope, and it…it didn’t even seem hard this time. Just something she had to do.

  Wiping her hand over the beam, Hayley scattered the clinging water droplets to try and make out whatever Gavin carved. With her finger as a guide, she read what she couldn’t have understood the first time she arrived on the estate.

  “Hayley Was Here”

  He’d taken out his knife and with slow precision told the estate, the whole world that Hayley existed. That Hayley deserved to be here. That one day Hayley would climb up this damnable thing and prove herself.

  Shaking away the tears in her eyes, Hayley scrabbled up to the top beam. She sat perched upon it, her legs dangling off while staring over the horizon. In the distance, the clouds were beginning to part, revealing golden sunbeams that weren’t banished from this world by the rains. They were simply waiting for their chance.

  Summer would be here soon. It’d take a lot of work and effort for her to get ready, for her to stand a chance. The scrawny hayseed blown in from slave-trade winds smiled to herself.