Friends of the Crown - Book 1 of Heroes of the Realm

by Scott Van der Haeghen

  Chapter 2 – Old Barlow

  The following morning found Nev and Brey at the lake behind the Cousins' farm. The lake was their private haven; the one place where they were no longer just the farm boys, Nev and Brey, but Neville Morton and Aubrey Cousins, Heroes of the Realm. Yes, heroes; as well as warriors and adventurers of the unknown! What made this place so special was its isolation. Being in a small hollow surrounded by a grove of maples made it feel as though they were worlds away from Carsby village. Here there existed a world where anything was possible for the two young men, it was also the world where they planned and prepared for their biggest dream; a dream they hoped to bring to life soon. A real adventure!

  For some time now, both Brey and Nev have dreamed of striking out on their own, undertaking an amazing journey. The adventure they most wished to pursue was to travel beyond the Crystalline Sea; to see the world and its treasures was what occupied the minds of the youths most every day.

  "Imagine! Great swelling waves and a fine wind. Umph!" grunted Nev as he delivered a mighty blow with a large stick he used as a sword.

  "Not to mention fighting off pirates and bringing back treasure." replied Brey fending off the blow and slipping passed his opponent's guard to skewer him squarely in the center of his bark breastplate. "Hah! You have been vanquished!" he cried triumphantly, holding his own stick aloft in victory. He imagined the sunshine on the wood was instead glinting off the polished steel of a fine sword.

  "Arg! You get me every time. You are real good, Brey." said Nev dejectedly. "I wish I could stick you just once." Of the two, Brey was clearly the superior swordsman, though Nev was more masterly at sailing their homemade boat on the pond. The young men had been training for early five years in sailing and swordsmanship, with the help of a retired soldier in the village named Old Barlow. Though neither had spoken of it to their mothers recently, the felt the time to pursue their adventure had arrived.

  To be sure, both of their mothers knew of their dream, for they had spoken of it often enough over the years. Brey's mum was to marry Carl and would be well taken care of, and Nev's mum had finally come back to herself; it seemed as though the Creator was cledaring the way for this moment. As they pushed off in the homemade skiff, they agreed to speak with everyone about it that very night.

  Supper at the Cousins' farm that night was a bit unusual. Instead of two or three for supper, there were five and the mood was light and festive. It was the first night that the Cousins' and Mortons, along with Carl, supped together as a household. Ellen and Abby worked together preparing supper as Carl and the boys set to adding seats to the enlarged table they had contrived out of the table normally occupying the center of the floor and a table from the Morton home. They were not exactly the same height but it worked well enough. The chairs too were mismatched but in the end, they all agreed it looked quite fine since it was to be occupied by family and the best of friends. The supper of venison and roots wasn't a banquet but was good and plentiful; thanks to Carl's fine hunting skills and the spring tubers from Neville's garden.

  After everyone had eaten and tea was being drunk all around, Nev nudged Brey with his foot under the table. The time had come. They exchanged a quick glance and Brey cleared his throat somewhat theatrically. Once he had the attention of the adults at the table, he began his rehearsed speech. He got as far as the first sentence.

  "Um, Nev and I would like to ask all of you a question." At this point, the remainder of what would have been an impassioned and eloquently prepared statement fled his brain. "Well, we- um."

  Seeing that Brey's mind had turned to jelly, Nev stepped in, speaking quickly. "We've had this idea for some time now and we thought it was about time we went on and did it." Seeing his audience hadn't quite caught on he went ahead. "Well it's not as if we haven't thought it through; we have done all we can to be ready for it." He became more animated as he continued. "We've learned the skills and heard every story of Old Barlow's at least ten times. We've practiced with our hickory sticks and can sail better than anyone in the village! We really are ready. So, what do you think?"

  Nev's mother looked at him quizzically. "Neville, have you been drinking?"

  "No mum! I'm sober as a Creator's servant!" he replied with a slightly wild look in his eye and his hand over his heart. He realized a moment too late how silly he sounded and everyone got a laugh at his expense.

  With his ever-present grin, Carl spoke up. "What is it you boys are driving at?"

  "Our adventure." they answered in unison.

  "Adventure?" he asked. "What adventure?"

  Ellen explained. "The boys had this notion of going off into the world to live out an adventure in which they become great explorers and warriors and in the end, Heroes of the Realm." She turned and smiled at the boys. "I thought you two had outgrown that silly dream years ago."

  Brey and Nev stared at her in horror.

  Brey's mind was jolted into motion once more. "No!" he blurted. "It's all we have dreamed of and all we have worked for since we were seven years old."

  He decided to speak from his heart and risk the possibility of being branded a disrespectful youth. He said to Carl, "When we were seven years old, Nev and I were allowed to go to Carsby with our fathers to get supplies. We thought of that as an adventure at the time. Then we met Old Barlow while we helped load the new seeds for planting that year. He told the most amazing stories you ever heard about seeing far away places and doing adventurous things while he had been in the Royal Army."

  Ellen looked gravely at Brey for a few moments and drew a deep breath. "I am sure this may be difficult for you to understand and certainly next to impossible to accept, but Barlow is an old man who, like many old men, likes to tell a yarn or two to pass the time." She shifted her gaze from one boy to the other and continued. "While I don't doubt that old Barlow was in the army, I am doubtful that the life of a soldier was all that exciting and adventurous. In times of war, a soldier's life is hurried and often short; while in times of peace it is probably boring and full of useless marching and standing on watch."

  She reached out and took the hand of each young man as she had many times before making her mealtime prayer. "I know the Time of Choosing is close to hand for both of you, but I know that we all hope you will make your Choice based on what is real and right rather than what is imagined and hoped for. We would hate to see you make your Choice only to have your dreams crushed. The army can still be dangerous even in times of peace."

  The Time of Choosing is a ritual that each man undertakes when he reaches his fifteenth year. By tradition, everyone marks another year of age on the first day of summer, which is also the Day of Choosing for the boys who turn fifteen. The ritual itself is quite simple; a young man chooses his next phase of life. He may become apprenticed to an artisan or craftsman, or he may choose to stay with his family farm or business, which is what happens most often in Carsby village. Young men may also declare their intention to leave the village to seek employment in another village or town or even join the army. They may also declare themselves independent, beholden to none, and free to travel or pursue individual goals. Having made this choice, however, young men must leave the village to discourage them from becoming layabouts or vagrants.

  Upon hearing that she thought they intended to Choose the army, the boys laughed. When she frowned at their reaction, they immediately stopped and apologized.

  "I'm sorry, mum, we meant no disrespect, it's just that we don't intend to join the army. We are going to strike out on our own and make our own destiny."

  This statement shocked the three adults into silence for a moment. "You mean you are going to just walk off into the world with no money, no craft, no experience?" Carl's voice was strained with shock as he asked this question.

  "I will not allow it! I won't - Choosing or not!" burst out Abigail. "I'll not have you throw away your prospects in favor of a dream you have yet
to grow out of." Ellen vigorously nodded her agreement.

  The boys were sent to loft to 'think about their Choice'. After some further discussion, Carl returned to his rooms above the smithy in the village and the women retired.

  The next morning, Ellen and Abigail left for Carsby to find old Barlow, leaving the boys to tend to the chores of the farm. They walked in near silence, only speaking to exchange thoughts on the best way to excoriate the old storyteller for filling the boys' heads with 'nonsense'. By the time they reached the small cottage on the outskirts of the village they were not only well armed verbally for the exchange to come, but in a mood well suited to the task at hand. In short, they were fine examples of well-contained, focused fury. Despite her condition of recovery, Abigail was too angry to even be a little tired after so long a hike.

  They walked up to a small three-room cottage, its whitewashed exterior and flower garden showing clearly that a man of meticulous leisure resided there. The terse knock on the door was answered promptly by a spry man in his seventies who showed every sign of having lived a very full life to this point. He wore a trim beard of gray that complimented the blue of his tunic. He had deep-set eyes the color of flint and is bearing, though only slightly bent by age and hard use, still bore a military bearing.

  "Good day to you Ellen, and to you Abigail. It is nice to see you out and about once again." he said in his clear, deep voice. Barlow, as did most residents of Carsby, knew of her plight since the loss of her husband and daughter.

  Abigail drew herself up and spoke with little preamble. "Good day to you, Barlow, we would have words with you regarding the nonsense our sons have learned at your knee!"

  "I am not certain I know what you mean." replied Barlow with a tilt of his head.

  For the next ten minutes both Abigail and Ellen told old Barlow exactly what they meant and in terms that even the slowest of minds could have comprehended. Barlow bore the abuse until both women had stated their piece. He then sighed heavily and bowed his head for a moment, while leaning against the door of his cottage.

  "Would you like to come in and join me for a cup of tea?" he asked with a smile, as though this were no more than a social visit. He sat the two at his table and prepared the kettle.

  The interior of the little cottage was well lighted and tidy; the walls were the same clean whitewash as on the outside. The furnishings were spare but comfortable. A simple wooden table with four chairs, a sturdy long bench along one wall and a well-made stone fireplace on the left-hand wall completed its interior furnishings. Straight to the back was a door that led to a small bedroom. Every surface appeared scrubbed clean and was free of unnecessary clutter. It was obvious that the little home was well cared for and well loved.

  "Now, what I am to tell you must, in part, be held in confidence for reasons that will become obvious." He moved to a corner of the cottage, opened a large chest near the fireplace, and removed a wooden box that was about one hand-width to a side. He placed the finely finished container on the table, where he slowly unlatched the ornate hook on the front. He then began a tale that both of the women would forever remember.

  "At the tender age of ten, I had but a single dream in my heart. I wished more than anything else in the world to become a soldier. Not just any soldier, mind you, but a member of the Queen’s Regiment, one of the Elite, the very cream of the crop." He said, a faraway look in his eyes.

  "This dream was still mine to have or to leave as I Chose in my fifteenth year. The village from whence I came, Vorstad was its name, no longer exists but was once a nice home, not unlike Carsby; a simple and wholesome place to grow up. I suppose that is why I chose to live here." he said with a sad smile.

  Barlow rose and went the hearth to remove the kettle and prepare the tea. "As I say, I had the Choice, not unlike Brey and Nev, when my time came." He brought the teakettle and a tray with cups and tea to the table and resumed his seat. "I Chose my dream."

  "As I recall, my father was unhappy, but proud I had Chosen a path that had a chance at honor; my mother was just unhappy." He grinned to himself at the memory. "She was of a certainty that my future was forfeit. She viewed soldiers as bullies and brutes. She had a bad experience as a young girl and judged all who wore a uniform based on that experience." He served the tea and continued with more vigor.

  "Once I had joined the army, I set about making myself the best of the company. I had a goal before me and nothing would bar me from achieving it. I did not hesitate to take on additional duty and I fought as a man possessed, for there were many battles to be had back then. I trained hard and battled well, and in time was recognized for my efforts by Field General Ethan Marsdon himself!" The memory of having the greatest military leader of the time shake his hand and congratulate him on a job well done after the Battle of Kressling was etched sharply in his mind.

  "By this time, I had distinguished myself and risen to the rank of Sergeant. I was very proud, but I had yet to achieve my goal. When the Field General asked what I would like to do with my career I told him of my goal. He laughed a bit, knowing this was a common goal amongst all soldiers, and promised to do what he could to help me."

  With a great sigh, Barlow returned for a moment to the present. "I am sure you are wondering what this has to do with your boys. Well, I will get there in due course, if you will indulge me but a moment or two longer." He settled back into his chair, and continued.

  "Well, old Marsdon made good on his promise and I was soon assigned to the The Regiment. Never was there a prouder moment in my life - but one." Barlow leaned forward with a gleam in his eye. "It was not more than a year after I had been assigned that my company was escorting Queen Ariel and her two-year-old daughter, Arriana, from the eastern coast to the palace at Wellton. We were ambushed by rebels at the ford of the river Gree and were sorely beset. Their archers had killed all but a handful of our company. Myself and but four others remained to protect Her Majesty and the young Princess from certain death. We fought hand to hand with nine of the remaining rebels. One, two, then three of our men had fallen, but just as we had lost men so too had the enemy. Only three remained near the end when my corporal, Shelling by name, was run through while taking one of the enemy with him. I was left to fight two by myself!" Setting aside his cup of tea, Barlow moved to the edge of his seat and continued with fire in his eyes.

  "Never had I been so fierce, though tired I surely was. I fended blow after blow until I was able to score a hit on the larger of my foes, the leader of the rebels as it turned out. Once the big man had fallen, his cohort wilted under my continuing onslaught and surrendered in due course. Good fortune that was too, as I had tired to the point of exhaustion and could not have fought much longer." Barlow leaned back in his chair and exhaled, as though even the telling of this story tired him.

  "The rest is known to nearly one and all. The last major rebellion had been broken shortly thereafter." He reached over and opened the box he had placed on the table earlier. "And the Queen bestowed upon me the greatest of honors. I was declared a Hero of the Realm, Protector of the Crown." In the box lay an ornate and beautiful medal with the symbol of the crown emblazoned upon it, strung with a wide silken ribbon of gold.

  "The name by which I was known in my younger days was Braydon, Barlow Braydon."

  The women were thunderstruck! Braydon was a name to conjure with; he was hailed as the greatest hero known in the history of the kingdom. For even after being named Hero of the Realm he went on to continued glory as a line officer and eventually a field general. Not once, but twice, was his status as Hero of the Realm publicly reaffirmed; once more by Queen Ariel, and also by her son and successor, King Roland. After Roland was forced by illness to pass on the crown to Arriana, it was she who conferred upon Braydon the rank of Crown Knight; the highest possible rank for a soldier of the realm. After serving as personal military advisor to the Queen for some years, Braydon chose to retire and was n
ever heard from again.

  For all this time, the people of Carsby had believed Barlow to be just a personable old man with some entertaining stories and a knowledge and wisdom brought on by his years. Yet here in their village they find a hero of mythic proportions, for it was never known what had become of Braydon when he left his service to the crown more than ten years before.

  "How can this be?" uttered Ellen, once she was able to find her voice again.

  "I don't understand, what- ?" Abby couldn't quite finish her question; she was too awed by what she had been told and seen.

  "It's quite simple really. I did not choose to be followed or mindlessly admired. I wished to retire in privacy as well as comfort." replied the old soldier, reaching up to stroke his beard. "So, I chose to use only my given name, grew a beard, and I came back to a nice little village I had passed through many years before. Carsby. As I said, it reminds me much of my former home and I wished to feel at home. Besides, I rather enjoy the role of Old Barlow, local eccentric." he finished with a devilish chuckle.

  Abby stared hard at the man for several seconds before drawing a deep breath and saying, "I still don't understand." She shook her head trying to get her thoughts clear.

  "I can see this comes as a surprise and you are undoubtedly wondering what this has to do with your sons, so I will tell you."

  The old hero poured more tea for all and continued his explanation. "Brey and Nev have a dream, just as I once had. Though I know not if they are able to fulfill this dream, they should at least be given the opportunity to try. I do know that the pride of a young man can be fragile and can lead to regrets that are difficult to live with through the years. I have seen this before and it can make a bitter man of even the finest youth." He paused for a sip of tea and continued. "I advise that you give them your support to try. To be honest, I cannot say for certain if they will get beyond the next village; dreams require much desire and even greater determination. Only time can tell if they truly wish to make this dream be real or if they merely wish the opportunity to allow them no regrets later. For what it is worth, I believe they have the will to succeed. "

  "But they have no skills, no trade; how can they hope to protect themselves or even feed themselves on the road?" asked Ellen with a tremor of worry in her voice.

  "Well, I have spent much time training them in the means of protecting themselves. They are both quite able, though Brey is the superior swordsman by far. In fact, he is as good as I have seen in quite some time." he said with pride. "Both are able to read a map quite adequately and I am sure Neville has developed his own abilities for cooking, having done a bit of that for himself these past couple years. And, of course, Carl has seen to it that both lads are competent huntsmen. I shouldn't be too concerned over their ability to provide for their safety and their stomachs."

  "So, that's it? You expect we should just allow them to Choose a wanderer's life without protest?" asked Abby incredulously. "They have no idea where they might go, they have no money, they do not even have a sword between them! What good is your training without the tools to carry it out?"

  Barlow chuckled and grinned almost impishly. "I have, in fact, considered all of these things, even your visit here today." Barlow once again rose and walked to the big chest in the back of the room. "In the village of Vorstad, we had a tradition of providing gifts for those who Choose to move from the village, whether to join another village, the army, or to Choose an independent life. I believe the reason was to provide that person with a means to remember their home."

  He lifted two large bundles from the chest and brought them to the table. "I prepared these for the lads some time ago, knowing they would one day pursue their dream, through Choice or perhaps afterward. I wished to follow my childhood tradition in providing each with a gift that would remind them of their home as well as provide useful tools to make attaining their dream all the more possible."

  He unwrapped one of the bundles and displayed its contents. On the table lay three rolls of parchment, a small pouch, a compass, and a sword of plain appearance in a leather scabbard.

  "As you can see, each of these gifts contains the very tools they will need to travel the Queen's roadways adequately." He pointed to each item in turn saying, "Each will have a map, a bit of money, a compass to guide them, and a sword for protection."

  "What of the other scrolls?" asked Ellen curiously, noting he had skipped them in his description.

  Barlow almost grimaced as he fingered the scrolls. "Well now, these are to be used each in a different case." He picked up a scroll with a red ribbon wrapped about it and a wax seal. "Should the lads make their way to Wellton, this is a letter of introduction to an old friend of mine who may provide them with shelter and work, should they need it by that time." He laid the scroll aside and picked up the other; this one bearing a wide blue ribbon and the same wax seal. "This letter is to be used in case my friend is dead or unable to assist them. Should they be in a crisis, they may present this letter to any of the Queen's garrisons or even to the Palace and they will receive aide. Though I may have been gone for more than ten years, I am not without friends in the army and even within the Palace, as Arriana is still Queen."

  At the surprised looks on the faces of the women, he chuckled with genuine mirth. "I do have something of a history with her Majesty after all!" He placed the scroll back in the bundle and began wrapping it back up. "Should the lads meet with trouble, and can get to one of these people, they will see that they are safely returned to Carsby, as that is what the last letter requests of them."

  "It is my sincere hope that they will not need to use that particular scroll. Not only would it mean they are in dire circumstances, it would also make it fairly easy to figure where I am living."

  After only a few more questions, Ellen and Abby left Barlow's cottage in a daze. They could scarcely believe what had happened and what they had been told. Barlow planned to present the gifts to the boys after the Choosing in something of a private ceremony, at which time he would explain what the gifts mean and what to do with the scrolls should they need to use them.

  The Day of Choosing was yet a week away and neither of the women had uttered a single word of their meeting with Barlow save to say they had spoken with him. They surprised both boys by also saying they would consider what they had to say about it; though they could not Choose for them. In fact, they could not interfere with the Choosing at all; each young man must make his choice independently.

  The days could not pass quickly enough for the two boys. Though they understood their mothers' upset, they could not bring themselves to give up their dream. The day before the Choice was to be made, the boys were called to the house and sat down at the table with their mothers and Carl.

  Abby began, "Now boys, we have given considerable thought to this. We understand your desire to live out the adventure you have planned for all this time. Our real interest is to make certain you have given all of the alternatives full thought as well.

  "While we have no doubt you have given this Choice much thought, we are worried that you may find that your journey is not what you expected. Should you make this Choice, you will not be able to return to Carsby for a half a year. You realize this don't you?"

  "Yes ma'am." the boys answered together, hope burning inside their chests.

  The women exchanged a look and Ellen turned to the boys with a sigh. "Then we will give our blessing, though not without misgivings. Now go and finish your chores." With that, the surprised and happy youths fairly leapt from the table and went out to finish their days work with a smile before their mothers had a chance to change their minds.

  Once the boys had closed the door, Carl looked at Ellen and started to speak. "Ellen –"

  "Now, I know what you are going to say, Carl." said Ellen, holding up her slim hand. "I only ask that you wait until tomorrow evening before passing judgment on our decision." She looked in his eye
s, seeking understanding. "Please?"

  Carl could refuse Ellen nothing and agreed to wait, though added that he hoped she could explain her change of mind, which seemed to be so foolish at its surface. She only smiled and told him he would understand everything tomorrow evening.

  Finally, the day Brey and Nev had been waiting for had arrived. They were up well before dawn, as further sleep was nearly impossible. They arose, washed themselves rather thoroughly, and dressed in the finest clothing they owned. By the time their mothers awoke, they had the tea prepared and breakfast nearly ready. Chores were generally excused on a Choosing Day.

  "Would that everyday could start like this!" exclaimed Ellen upon seeing that she and Abby had little to do this morning but wash and dress and eat the porridge and bacon Neville had prepared.

  The excitement in the air generated by the boys was almost palpable. "The Choosing isn't until this afternoon, boys, you will be worn out before your turn has come!" said Abby as she began to shoo them out the door. "Off with you now, you may spend a bit of time at the lake if you wish, only return before lunchtime, else you will miss out on the Choosing."

  "Not a chance of that!" replied Nev. "We will be back in plenty of time!" With that, the boys bounded across the field to visit their haven behind the Cousins farm.

  Shortly before midday, Carl arrived in his wagon to bring them all to Carsby for the Choosing. He still bore a faintly sour expression over the apparent change of heart of the two women.

  The ride into town was not a long one, but to Nev and Brey it seemed hours. All they could think of was standing in line and answering the question 'How do you Choose?' with a proudly proclaimed, 'Independence!' This was sure to cause a stir in the village as it is seldom heard in a Choosing ceremony these days. Most lads choose to apprentice in a craft, work the family business or farm, or take a job in another village; on occasion one may choose to serve the Crown in the army. Independence is very rare indeed in a small village like Carsby.

  Normally, the little town was dull with little color or excitement in the air - a common and boring farming village. The single dusty thoroughfare down the center of Carsby was barely more then a quarter mile in length. The various shops and homes were nearly all single story wooden cottages, some with a small loft. Not a one painted any color other than whitewash. The front portions of many were reserved for selling goods such as foodstuffs and general merchandise, while the back or loft was living space for the proprietor and his family.

  Today, almost every one of the nearly two hundred souls who lived in or near Carsby had come for the Choosing. Many of the small shops and cottages in town were decorated in some way. Here and there, flowers were strung up above a plain doorway to bring good luck, or colored bits of cloth strung up as a makeshift banner. Most folks were in their finest clothing, usually seen only on days dedicated to the Creator. The young men destined to make a Choice today each wore a single white flower pinned to their shirt or jerkin; Brey and Nev were each given one by their mothers just before leaving for the village.

  The carnival atmosphere was a welcome change to those who seldom got a chance to forego work and celebrate. The baker and the butcher had opened stalls on the street selling sweet pastries and seasoned meat pies, even Carl had a table arranged in front of the smithy selling small metal crafts, knives, and kitchen wares. The one inn in the village sold ale or wine, a modest offering getting modest traffic in a largely sober hamlet.

  A small platform had been erected in the square in the center of the village for the occasion and Mace Kellen, the Village Elder, stood upon it calling all those to make a Choice that day to come forward. Brey and Nev, along with eight others, nervously took their places on the platform. There was really no need to be nervous since most folks knew what each lad was to Choose already, but some, like Brey and Nev, would make their decision known there on that platform.

  The Choosing is a very old ceremony, which has changed little over the years. Larger cities have all but given up the practice, but villages like Carsby still adhere to this tradition. Its continued value to smaller communities likely lies in the need for a village to ensure that each member is doing his share and to see that all of the needs of the village can be met. Since there are only so many apprenticeships, only a few may Choose this, and so forth. In addition, allowing a young man to Choose to remain working the family farm ensures the farm will not fail because the farmer's son had to Choose something else. In this way, villages can thrive and know that each man is doing his part. But it is also a rite of passage for a young man, a rite that signifies it is time to set aside childish things and take on the responsibilities of manhood.

  Elder Kellen lined the boys up on the platform shoulder to shoulder; he gave the boys their brief instructions about the simple ceremony, and then turned to address the crowd that had gathered before it.

  "Once again we have gathered to celebrate the Choosing!" he boomed in his deep voice. "Before we commence with the ceremony let us bow our heads in a brief prayer to the Creator in thanks for this fine day and for the opportunity to bring these boys into the fold of men of Carsby village." Everyone bowed their heads as Mace intoned the ritual prayer for the Day of Choosing.

  "Now then, let us get on with the ceremony." he announced afterward. He turned to face the young men and asked the first of the required questions. "Are you one and all of legal age to Choose?"

  "We are." they all replied in unison.

  "Does each of you come forward mindful of the meaning of the day?"

  "We do."

  "Does each of you come forward with a Choice made of your own free will?"

  "We do."

  "Are you now prepared to make your Choice known to those gathered here today?"

  "We are."

  "I shall ask you each in turn to announce your Choice. Do so proudly and in the voice of a man."

  "We will." was the reply.

  Mace walked to the far end of the line from Brey and Nev and began asking each one for their Choice.

  "Ned Miller, how do you Choose?"

  He yelled a little too loudly, "I Choose to remain on the Miller farm!" Everyone laughed at the young man's enthusiasm.

  Mace moved to the next, "Matthew Jenkins, how do you Choose?"

  "I choose to apprentice with Master Crafter Hollings, by agreement." he answered in a strong voice.

  Mace moved again, from boy to boy down the line, with one surprise Choice being Michael Chilton, who announced he would travel to Newellen to join the Army.

  Finally, Mace reached our friends. "Neville Morton, how do you Choose?"

  In a voice that only cracked slightly Nev announced loudly, "Independence!"

  Silence.

  "Did- did you say ‘independence’, Neville?" asked a shocked Mace.

  "I did." replied Nev with an almost defiant tilt of his chin, eyes looking straight ahead.

  There were several murmurs throughout the crowd and heads brought hastily together to quietly express shock. Most believe Independence is claimed only by those who choose not to work and would become a lay-about or a criminal.

  Mace hesitated a moment and thought it best to simply move on to the last in line; Brey. Mace was certain Brey would announce he would stay on the family farm, his mother being a widow and all.

  "Aubrey Cousins, how do you Choose?"

  "I also choose Independence." he announced in a firm voice.

  The crowd once again surged with whispers and softly spoken exclamations. One voice, however, rang out over the crowd. "Well Chosen, boys! Well Chosen!" All heads turned in the direction of old Barlow as he stood calmly, arms crossed over his chest, beside a large oak to one side of the platform.

  "It takes a brave man to Choose to face the world on his own terms, to pursue that which he desires. I admire you both for having the courage to do so!" He clapped his hands a few times, and with a chuckle and a shake of his head, he turned and walked back
toward his cottage.

  After the closing of the ceremony, Brey and Nev made their way toward Carl's shop to meet up with their mothers and the smith. They could hear the whispers and feel the stares from the townspeople as they passed through the crowd. Clearly, the folk of the village didn't know what to make of it all. While Independence is considered the Choice of the lazy or lawless, the youths were well known to be good lads of good character. It seemed to make no sense. The young men decided it was no use trying to explain it to them, so the village folk would just have to think what they will.

  When they finally arrived at Carl's shop, their mothers informed them there was a surprise in store for them. They led the boys and Carl to Barlow's cottage and knocked on the door.

  "Well my friends," he said, "welcome, welcome! Come in. Please, have a seat. I have prepared something of a celebratory feast; it seemed likely you would not wish to remain in the square under the scrutiny of those who fail to understand your Choice."

  There upon the small table was a feast indeed. Fresh bread and butter, venison cooked to a turn, and a large wild berry pie. There was also cider and fresh cow's milk.

  "I would have provided wine, but thought better of it." he said. He then turned to Abby. "How fair you in mastering yourself, Abigail?" he asked with genuine interest, having provided Ellen with the knowledge to help her friend overcome her condition.

  "Very well, Barlow, I thank you for providing Ellen with such good advice." she replied. "The help of a true friend has proved the strongest medicine of all." she added, taking her friend's hand in her own.

  "I am truly glad of that." he said with a smile.

  "So, Carl," the hero continued, "I see by the lack of your ever-present grin, you do not approve of the Choice made by our young friends here. Perhaps I can explain to you as well as the lads here why I find it a grand Choice indeed."

  Barlow moved to the big chest and retrieved the bundles he had shown Ellen and Abby the week before. He brought them to the bench near the hearth and set them down without opening them. He turned and faced his visitors.

  "Lads, but a week ago, your mothers came to me and had many a word concerning your intended Choice, as well as my part in influencing that Choice." He chuckled and added, "In fact, I felt fairly well bruised by the time they had spoken their piece.

  "After having heard their say on the matter, I offered my humble thoughts and some advice. To judge by today's Choosing they have taken that advice and given you their blessing to undertake your journey." Both women nodded at the last. "Now I will tell you what I told them."

  Starting with the same promise to keep secret what he was to tell them, he retold much of the story he told Ellen and Abby the week before. Needless to say, the reaction of the boys and Carl was predictably incredulous.

  Once he had answered some of their questions, he turned to the bundles and picked them up. Holding one in each hand he said, "In my boyhood, it was a tradition to provide one leaving the village with a gift by which to remember their home. I have a gift for each of you to help you remember from whence you came and to aid you on your journey." The old soldier handed one to Brey and the other to Nev, then squatted down in front of them with a hand on the top of each bundle.

  "Now lads, you must understand that these gifts are normally given neither with condition nor expectation of return. I am going to break with tradition in this case and add one condition." He looked from one to the other. "You must learn to use these gifts wisely and well. With this in mind, you must see me as often as your mothers will allow over the next weeks to be best prepared for the life you have Chosen. Do you understand?"

  Brey and Nev nodded, wondering what could be in the bundles that could require such a promise.

  The old man looked into the eyes of each young man, then stood and said with a grin, "Open them then, for I know you must be bursting at the seams to do so."

  With only a moment's glance at each other, they fairly tore open the blanket wrapped bundles.