“Piss off, you scoundrel. You’re not one of the masters yet.”
“I love her so.” Tyv winked at Sigurd and left the cottage for the first time since he had found it.
Slats of bright morning light cut through the canopy and made the snow glitter like filched jewels. Tyv purred to himself, thankful for the stolen wool stockings and heavy leather boots on his feet because the melting snow would have soaked his toes in his old footwear. It didn’t take long to find the road again, and all Tyv had to do was plant the pretty blue shoe in the center, hide beneath a cluster of holly bushes, and wait.
As he sat, he daydreamed like he always did. His current fantasy of choice was breaking into Eirik’s bedroom in the dead of night and scooping the squire up into his arms and carrying him away. They’d find a port town and take a ship to a land without snow where they could drink rum and watch the sun set over a foreign horizon.
“What do we have here? What a fine little slipper you are.”
Tyv peered through the waxy green leaves of the holly and saw a plump man with a plump ox in tow. Tyv stayed still, listening to the old fool talk to the shoe as if it could talk back.
“Fine you are, quite fine, but where’s your fellow now?” The man looked left and right, trying to catch the flash of a silver buckle or a spot of blue amongst the white snow. “Huh, you seem to be all by yourself. What a shame, a shame. You’re no good without a fellow.”
The ox owner dropped the shoe back to the ground and continued leading his ox down the path. Tyv waited a few minutes before reaching out and snatching the shoe back into his hand. The path curved around a hill, and Tyv used the hill as a shortcut to get himself back in front of the farmer and his ox. He dropped the same shoe onto the road and hid back into the brush.
“Oh no, what’s this?”
He heard the same voice talking to himself only two minutes later.
“Here’s the other one, and I was a fool and left the first behind! Well, now, come here, Hilde. We’ll just tie you up like so, and I’ll run and get that shoe and be back in just a moment. The old dame might forgive my gambling if I present her with such a handsome pair of shoes as these!”
With that, he trotted off after the first shoe, and Tyv untied Hilde and led her to a sunny clearing where he could hide her until it was safe to lead her home without being discovered. Tyv heard the farmer’s lament through the forest, but what he didn’t expect was to hear the old fool deciding to rush home and get one of his other two oxen to sell in place of the first one. Tyv stroked his chin with a gloved hand. He didn’t care for how Sigurd had given him extra difficulty with his task. It was clear the thief wanted Tyv to fail his test so they could send him away or, worse, kill him for stealing from them.
But if he’d asked for one ox and Tyv gave him two, even that scoundrel would have to admit that Tyv was as good as any of the men in his troupe, so Tyv left Hilde in her sunny spot to graze what she could find beneath the snow and went after the farmer. Tyv stayed in the forest as the farmer went to his estate. He climbed a tree and tied his rope into a noose as he waited. When he saw the farmer coming back to the forest with the second ox, Tyv slipped into the rope and hung himself by the armpits, making sure his cloak obscured the view enough to make it appear that he’d hanged himself by the neck instead.
“Lord have mercy!” the farmer exclaimed when he reached Tyv’s tree. “What a bad omen. I’ll say a prayer to keep me and Nina here safe.”
Tyv waited for the farmer to pass and hoisted himself back up the tree. He untied the rope and scurried through the woods to get ahead of his mark again. Then he pulled the same trick, hanging and waiting for the farmer to see him.
“Do I believe my own eyes?” the man asked after a few minutes. “Could there be two who’ve hung themselves just this morning? Their red cloaks look like the devil’s own. I need to hurry away in case this is witchcraft!”
Tyv waited and freed himself, and used the hill as a shortcut once again to get ahead of the farmer. He hung himself a final time and waited for the shouts announcing he’d been discovered.
“Witchcraft! It must be witchcraft! First the shoes appear and disappear, then my poor Hilde vanishes, and now this red devil appears thrice! I-I need to tell the priest! Yes, but, oh bless my soul, he won’t believe a sinning gambler like me. I need to be sure. If I go back and the first two bodies are still there, then this is some sort of murder, but if they’re gone, this is the work of the devil!”
Tyv worried that the fool might have enough sense to take the ox with him, but being fat and old, he decided to tie her up and run on his own without the hassle of the ox. Tyv grinned as he led Nina through the forest and tied her up beside Hilde.
He shook his head as he heard the farmer wailing and screaming about witchcraft and the devil, but better the devil be blamed than a thief because Tyv wanted to pass Sigurd’s crooked test. He perked up his head, however, when he heard the desperate old farmer swearing he’d go get his bull and sell that for the highest price he could bargain because he couldn’t face his wife again with two missing cows and no money to show for them.
Tyv covered his mouth with a gloved hand to muffle his laughter. He couldn’t believe how stupid the old farmer was. At this point, he thought the forest was haunted by the devil, but he still wanted to bring his last ox through. Well, Tyv figured that if he brought all three oxen to Sigurd, not only would the bandit have to admit that Tyv was a good thief, but that he was better than any of the other men. Thus Tyv found a comfortable spot to eat his lunch and wait for the farmer to return one last time.
This time, when he heard the farmer shouting prayers up at the trees to keep all the phantoms and illusions away, Tyv started to bellow like a cow.
“Oh thank the Lord! Thank the Lord! It’s my Hilde or my Nina! If I can find them both, all my problems will be solved. You stay here where it’s safe, Gunnar, and I’ll be right back with the others and we’ll be on our way!”
With that, the old farmer disappeared into the woods in search of his oxen, and Tyv took the bull and went in the opposite direction. He heard the old fool wailing about ghosts, demons, and devils stealing his cattle. Finally the farmer shouted to hell with his old dame and vowed to take the east road and start a new life for himself in the city. Tyv wished him the best as he led his prizes back to the cottage. The stable was crowded with both the gang’s horses and the three oxen, but Tyv figured they could deal with it later. For now, he wanted wine and food and the hearth fire.
“Well, well, our young apprentice is back.” Sigurd grinned and licked goose grease off of his knife.
“Of course, I’m back, and never mind the coffee, Lene. Wine will do.”
“I’ve told you a dozen times I’m not your servant. Pour your own wine!” She scowled and pretended to sew in her chair by the hearth, but Tyv saw her watching and knew she was curious about how his test went.
“So…” Sigurd picked his teeth with his dagger. “Did you steal the old man’s ox?”
“No, I’m sad to say I did not steal an ox.” Tyv sighed and shook his head.
“Pity, that.” Sigurd rose up from his seat, knife still in hand. “We have no use for an apprentice who can’t even steal a single ox from a foolish old man.”
“Yes, that’s true. An apprentice should be able to steal a single ox.” He poured himself a glass of wine, ignoring Sigurd’s slow trek toward him. The other thieves sat around the table, eating like nothing was happening. Tyv continued to speak. “And a seasoned thief, I bet, could manage to wrangle two oxen from him, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, any of my men could have done that.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought, too.” Tyv grinned, downing the wine. “And what if they took all three? Is that even possible?”
Sigurd snorted, amused as always by Tyv’s flippant attitude. “Well, I suppose anyone that could manage all three oxen would be a master among thieves.”
“Better than you?”
&nb
sp; “Well, at least as good.”
“Yeah.” Tyv nodded. “That’s what I thought too. Well, I suppose staying here won’t do me any good after all.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. You’ll always have a bed here, though be it a narrow one amongst the trees.” Sigurd gestured with his knife. “Mind being a good sport and taking off my cloak? I’d rather not get blood on it, but I will if I must.”
“My cloak. We wouldn’t want to get blood on my cloak. Would you like to know their names, first?”
“Names?” Sigurd asked.
“The bull is called Gunner, and he has a foul temper. The little one is Nina; she’s a gentle thing. Now Hilde, the bigger of the two cows, likes to put on airs, but I won her over with a handful of tall grass I found poking out of the snow.”
“Is this another one of your stories?”
“No, no, no, not a story at all, but if you check for rumors in the city to the east, you’ll hear a fine story of an old farmer, drunk and rambling about how the devil took all three of his oxen to hell with him, and you may even hear about an old farming dame whose husband up and left her after stealing their oxen and gambling their money away.” Tyv set his goblet down on the table with a solid thud. “Well, as for me, I think I’m going to bed. Tomorrow, I’ll seek my fortunes farther down the road in the larger cities.”
With that, Tyv plucked a single kiss from Sigurd’s slack, confused mouth and sauntered up the stairs. The room below was frantic with the thieves all talking at once, and Sigurd himself was so shocked about the oxen and the stolen kiss that all he could do was curse. Tyv didn’t lie down in any of the beds; that would surely be his death. Instead, he climbed out the bedroom window and into the cold night.
Ice coated the branches near the cottage, but Tyv managed to take hold with his gloves and make his way down to the ground. He crept to the stables and hid in the hay, waiting for thieves to check to make sure all the animals were accounted for.
“Did he steal any of the horses?” a voice shouted outside.
“No! But come see this!”
There was noise and confusion and swearing as all the thieves gathered into the small space of the stable.
“All three of them.”
“I’ll be hung. The little bastard really did take them all!”
“Oy, oy, Sigurd, we could have used a kid like that. Why’d you try to kill him? Now he’s gone ’cause you scared him off.”
“Easy for you to say. He didn’t steal your clothes.”
“You can buy all the clothes you want with the money from these oxen, but you won’t get a penny more from him because of your damn pride, Sigurd.”
“Fuck this. It’s cold and all the horses are here. I’m going to sleep. We don’t need that brat. We’ll have plenty of coin from this heist alone.”
After that, the complaining started to fade. Tyv waited a bit longer to emerge from the hay and clean himself off. Tyv already had several bags of riches he’d been pilfering from the thieves during the blizzard and some extra stores of food. He saddled up Sigurd’s horse, a white mare named Snøfall, and tied all his stolen treasure to the horse’s side.
“Welp, three oxen for a week’s lodgings, a horse, and a few bags of treasure isn’t exactly a fair trade since each bag is worth an ox, but these thieves have no manners, so I’ll lose no sleep over robbing them.”
With that, Tyv licked the stale beer and goose grease taste of Sigurd’s kiss off his lips as he took off into the night. Once out of the woods, the stars guided him back to his old home. They had no stable, but there was an old cave that Tyv had played in as a child in which he sheltered the horse and hid his treasure. He walked back to the shack he used to call home. His father sat hunched near the fire eating porridge. When he saw Tyv, he hugged the bowl to his chest as if afraid he might have to share it.
“Hey, old man, miss me?” he asked his father.
“YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED to come back,” the old man said. He glared at Tyv’s outfit. “You’re dressed like a fine sort. What kind of mischief have you been up to that you could dress like that after only a week?”
“Well, you gave us leave to pursue any profession of our choosing, and it just so happens that it only took me a week to become a master at my new craft.”
“Which is?”
“Thieving.”
“Get out of my house.” The old man pointed to the door. “I might be poor, but I didn’t raise a thief.”
“Well, technically, you did.” Tyv set his hat on the table and sat on the wobbly stool that used to be his favorite. “I have pickled eggs. Want some?”
“You still can’t stay here.” The man shook his head, though he eyed Tyv in a way that said he would like to try a pickled egg.
Tyv sighed and dug through the bag at his hip until he found a jar of pickled eggs and a wedge of cheese wrapped in cloth. He set the items on the table and slid them over to his father’s side.
“Look. I don’t care if you approve of me or not. You were never a kind father nor did you provide well. Fact is, I’m here for a reason. There’s something precious that I need to steal, and this place will act as a convenient base until my heist is over.” Tyv shrugged a shoulder and gave a wave of his hand. “If all goes well, I’ll be out of here in a week, and you’ll never have to see me again, just as you would prefer.”
“This is my house! Not a base for a thief!”
“Quiet, old man, or I’ll beat you with a birch club and make you quiet. It’s the squire’s heart I want to steal, not his gold, so don’t judge me too harshly.”
“The squire’s heart?” His father cackled and smacked the table in amusement. “He’s too good for the likes of you.”
“That’s why I’m stealing his heart and not winning it.” Tyv grinned. He stood, curled up into the hay pile that was always his, and while he missed the thick quilts he’d grown accustomed to, the scarlet cloak around his shoulders kept him warmer than the rag he used to use as a blanket.
He woke up at dawn. The sun continued to melt the snow from the freak storm a week prior. Tyv gave himself a cold, unpleasant washing in the creek near his father’s home and did his best to manage the brown curls that grew like brambles out of his scalp. When he looked presentable, he slipped on his cloak, gloves, and hat, and made the familiar trek to the squire’s property. He skipped the orchards, the goose house, and the stables, and went straight for the squire’s manor—which always looked like a fairy-tale castle to Tyv when he was young and didn’t realize that higher-end nobility and royalty lived even more grandly than squires.
A woman gasped when he entered through the servant’s doorway. He winked at her and placed a finger to his lips to shush her. She ran off, and Tyv hoped that it was to find Eirik and inform him of an intruder. He made it all the way to the dance hall before Eirik found him.
“Who are you, and what do you think you’re doing here?” Eirik shouted. Half a dozen guards stood behind him with spears pointed at Tyv, but he wasn’t worried.
“Don’t you recognize me?” He tipped up his hat and grinned.
“Oh.” Eirik gasped. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he turned to his guards. “It’s all right. He’s a guest. Leave us.”
The men lowered the spears and left Eirik and Tyv alone. They stared at each other from across the room and stepped forward. Tyv’s boots disturbed the old rushes and dried herbs on the stone floor, kicking up dust that glittered in the shafts of sunlight sneaking in through a skylight above them.
“Feels like it’s been awhile,” Tyv said.
“I saw you last week.” Eirik raised an eyebrow. “You were stealing an apple from one of my trees.”
“I’ve stolen much more since.”
“I was wondering about the clothes. Is that why you’re here? To take my pretty silver candlesticks and jeweled hairpins?”
“No. There’s something much more valuable that I want.”
They both stopped in the center of the room, sunligh
t pouring down on their heads. Tyv took off his hat and tossed it on the floor so it wouldn’t get in the way of what he was about to do. He held Eirik’s face and stole a lingering kiss from his lips. When he pulled back, he realized that Eirik’s eyes were closed, his lips still parted, and a delicate pink was brushed across the top of his cheeks.
“How dare you,” Eirik whispered as he opened his eyes. “I could have you hanged for that. All I have to do is call the guards back.”
“I will give you my neck, and you can do with it what you will, but I want your hand in return.”
“You know damn well that I’m supposed to find a knight’s daughter to wed in order to secure and increase the value of my house.” Eirik frowned as he spoke.
“You know damn well that I don’t care about anything you just said. Elope with me, and we’ll go south where the snows are brief and men fight giants and trolls to make their own fortunes without needing pedigrees and marriages of economic convenience.”
The tension left Eirik’s shoulders, and a smile overtook him. He sighed, combing through Tyv’s impossible curls with his fingers.
“Such a delightful tale, and I wish I could indulge in it, but I know I shouldn’t. Give up being a thief and go be a bard. Maybe I’ll let you sing for me during Yule feasts.”
“That’s not good enough. I want to wed you, not perform for you.” Tyv seized Eirik’s shoulders and pulled their bodies close together. “I have loved you since we were boys picking wild blackberries in the woods, and I will continue to love you until a narrow bed of earth claims me for my last night.”
The breath caught in Eirik’s throat. He stared at Tyv for a long time. He grabbed Tyv’s shoulders in return and pressed their bodies the rest of the way together until they were kissing again. Eirik’s mouth felt like brushfire against Tyv’s lips, hot and fierce and uncontrollable. Tyv melted into the moment, forgetting everything he ever knew, but Eirik pulled away again and it was over.
Once Upon the Rainbow, Volume Two Page 23