HONOR BOUND (The Spare Heir) (11 page)

“No, no, I can’t say that I have,” Jorem replied.  Not wanting to hurt the man’s feelings, Jorem tried to find something good to say about the ale.  “It’s very strong,” he temporized.             

The little man leaned closer to Jorem and scrutinized his face.  “Why, you’re but a lad.  Have you ever had ale before?”

Jorem could feel the color rising in his cheeks as he stared fixedly at his plate and shook his head.  He had always been curious about the taste of ale, but had never had an opportunity to try it.  Now that he had tasted it, he was even more curious as to why it was so popular.

“It’s alright, lad,” the man said as he patted Jorem on the back.  “It’s best if you’re expecting the taste, especially the first time.”  The little man raised his hand up and snapped his fingers twice.  At the signal, the woman who had been serving the plates of food hustled over to them.

“Linda,” the man said. “Would you fetch this lad a drink with a bit less bite to it, and I think he’d like another bowl of stew if I’m not mistaken.”

Jorem looked up at the woman.  “Water would be fine miss.”  Then he turned his attention back to the man.  “Thank you sir.  I’m not used to drinks with such strong flavors.  The stew is wonderful though.”

Linda smiled at Jorem.  “Best keep an eye on this’n, Biorne.  With manners like that, he’ll be getting extra helpins for free.”

The woman winked at Jorem and hurried off to what must be the kitchen.  Her curly, dark brown hair bounced with each step.  Biorne, in the meantime, had gone off to check on other patrons.  Another woman emerged from the kitchen carrying two large pitchers and began circulating through the room refilling mugs of ale.

Midway through his third bowl of stew, Linda reappeared at his side.  “Will ye be havin’ another bowl of stew?” she asked.

By the tone of her voice Jorem could tell that she was teasing him.  The smile on her face was infectious and Jorem found himself smiling back.  A commotion behind him caused him to turn and look.  Jorem’s older brothers sat together at a table laughing and drinking.  It appeared that they were having a contest to see who could drink the most.  The food on their table had hardly been touched.  The more they drank the louder they became.

“Sons of the King, or so they say,” Linda said, shaking her head.  “I suppose rank has its privileges, but they don’t quite fit a girl’s idea of  ‘prince charming.’”

Jorem found himself embarrassed by his brothers’ behavior.  He wasn’t sure if he should defend them or make excuses for them.  Instead, he decided that nothing he could say would make any difference.

“So,” Linda asked expectantly, “more stew?”

As good as the stew was, Jorem seemed to have lost his appetite.  “I think I had best walk off some of what I’ve already eaten.  Thank you, though, it was excellent.”

“Just as well,” she sighed. “Biorne’s got a feast that needs carrying up t’ the King’s room so the serving down here’ll be a bit slim fer a while.”

As she walked back to the kitchen, Jorem got up and headed for the door.  He needed some quiet time to think about what the serving girl, Linda, had said.  Actually, it was more the way she had said it than the words she had used.  Something he had heard before was itching at the back of his mind and he needed to puzzle it out.

Chapter XII

The night was cool and crisp.  Stars glittered in the sky. There were more than Jorem could remember ever seeing before.  He stood leaning against a railing at the side of the inn.  Lights shone from the windows of most of the houses scattered near the inn.  A light breeze rustled the leaves of a nearby tree. After breathing the dust from the trail for days the air here had a fresh, clean smell to it. Something about the area soothed Jorem’s senses and gave him a feeling of peace and calm.

The door of the inn opened and closed several times.  Jorem listened to the sound of those leaving the inn.  Most were pairs, quietly disappearing into the darkness of the night.  A few were groups, staggering and stumbling on their way.  Jorem inhaled deeply as he pushed himself off from the railing.  Perhaps he could find his answers in his sleep.

He was just rounding the corner of the inn when he heard a commotion coming from across the way.  Jorem started towards the sound, curious to see what was going on. What he saw caused his hand to brush the empty place where his sword should have been and his pulse quickened. He had left his sword in his room thinking that it would not be needed.  He knew he should call for help but something drew him onward.

Dimly, he saw four men surrounding a girl.  They were laughing and pushing her from one to another.  “
Four to one,
” Jorem thought.  “
I’d be dead in a minute.”
  He stood transfixed by the sight, knowing he needed to get help but unable to turn away.

“Hey!  Leave my sister alone!” a voice shouted.  A small figure dashed out of the darkness, running into the group of men, knocking one of them to the ground.  The would-be rescuer grabbed the girl and pushed her away from the circling men.  Without hesitation, she dashed away into the darkness.

The man who had fallen staggered back to his feet, cursing as he did so.  Dismay covered Jorem’s face as he recognized the voice as that of his older brother, Daniel.  As a group, his brothers turned on the intruder.  They were angry and drunk.  This man, boy really, for he was no bigger than Jorem, had ruined their fun.  They meant to make him pay.

The boy hadn’t a chance as they attacked him.  The grunts of pain seared into Jorem’s mind as he watched his brothers kick and pummel their victim.  The distinct sound of a bone breaking followed by another drove Jorem out of the shock that held him frozen in place.  He had to stop them. He had to at least try.

Jorem had taken no more than two steps toward his brothers when a group of armed men came rushing out of the darkness.  The men drove his brothers away from the boy who now lay curled up on the ground.  Fear rose in Jorem as he approached.  No longer fear of his brothers, but fear for his brothers.  Instead of watching his brothers viciously beat the young boy, would he now watch his brothers die for their mindless attack?

“Ben!” a high-pitched voice screamed.

Again Jorem found himself unable to move as the rescued girl ran to the injured boy and collapsed beside him.  Suddenly there were people everywhere.  They came pouring out of all of the buildings.  Many were carrying torches and lanterns lighting up the bizarre scene like some ghoulish nightmare.

“What goes on here?”  The King’s voice boomed over the babble of the crowd.

All voices were stilled as the King approached, the sound of his steps firm as he walked into the scene.  One person began telling what had happened then another and another until so many were speaking that nothing could be understood.  The King held up his hands for silence and slowly the crowd quieted.

“Those of you who are not involved in this, unless you can stand as witness to the events, return to your homes.”  The King’s voice brooked no argument, yet still many remained.  “Any who remain will be detained and questioned by the royal guard.”

At that pronouncement most everyone returned to the homes from which they had come.  Jorem watched them as they passed by.  He could see anger in many of their faces.  He noticed that although most of the people went into their houses or into the inn, a few stood in the shadows just close enough to see and hear what happened.  These few would likely report to the rest later.

Jorem quietly walked over to the boy who lay crumpled upon the ground.  The boy looked to be about Jorem’s age though he had a much stockier build. The innkeeper knelt by the boy’s side. Gently the small man ran his hands along the boy’s arms and legs.  The girl, the boy’s sister, and a woman that must be the boy’s mother, also knelt by the boy. The boy’s skin was ashen and he lay as still as death.

“Is he?” the question choked in Jorem’s throat.

The innkeeper looked up at Jorem, his face grim.  “It’s not good.  His injuries are severe.  I think he will live, but it will be months, maybe years before he fully recovers.

“What about a healer?” Jorem asked.

“We have no healer. Besides, a healer can only do so much,” said the innkeeper, shaking his head.  “There hasn’t been a healer in the kingdom with the power to fix something like this in a long time.”

The innkeeper looked over at the armed men surrounding the sons of the King and his face clouded with anger.  “I’ve seen wars start for less than this.  The Duke’s son, Pertheron, may not settle for anything less.”  Looking up, the innkeeper asked, “You saw what happened?”

“I saw,” Jorem whispered.  His head hung low with the knowledge that he had done nothing to stop his brothers. “I should have done something to stop them but I… I didn’t.

“There’s nothing you could have done,” the innkeeper counseled.  “Likely, they would have done the same to you.  Best you go tell the King what you saw.  Send some of those guardsmen to help us move Ben here to the inn.  The sooner we start putting him back together, the better.”

As Jorem turned to walk over to the King, three men on horses rode up to the King and dismounted.  Two of the men were heavily armed and armored.  The third wore a deep blue robe and a coronet encircled the flaming red hair on his head.  This would be the Duke of Broughbor.

Four men stood in a circle facing one anther as Jorem approached.  The King looked angry yet defeated.  The Duke listened intently to what the others had to say.  A tall man, likely the Duke’s son Pertheron judging by his features and red hair, was gesturing and arguing.  The fourth man was barrel-chested and stood quietly with his arms folded across his chest.

“There is no excuse,” snarled Pertheron.  “Can you really expect us to ignore what they have done?  They must be punished for what they did to Ben.  The law must apply to all men, even those who would call themselves prince.”

“You’ve let those boys run wild for too long,” the Duke said in a deep, calm voice.  “It’s time you reined them in and taught them some discipline.  What do you intend to do?”

The King stood silent for a while then heaved a great sigh.  He stood tall and straight as he looked the Duke in the eyes.  “I’m going to do what I should have done years ago.  I’m going to turn them over to someone who lives and breathes discipline, Weapons Master Gregorio.  They will be in his charge until such time as he deems them fit to return to the castle.  They won’t be considered princes of the realm until they have proven themselves worthy of the role.  They may be the heirs to the throne, but they won’t be enjoying any of the privileges.”

The Duke seemed satisfied with the King’s decision and his son grudgingly agreed.  The fourth man, however, did not seem content.  Although he was shorter than the other three men, it would have taken all three of them to match him in breadth.  When he braced his hands on his hips, he looked very much like the trunk of a massive oak tree.

“Begging your pardon, your majesty,” the big man said, his voice so deep it startled Jorem.  “Young Ben is more’n my son, he’s my apprentice.  Biorne there says the boy should recover but it could be a year or better afore he’ll be back to working the forge.  Proper smithin’ takes two an there’s none in Broughbor that’s willin’ to do the work.  Law says yer kin’s gotta compensate for my loss.  One o’ yer boys there, they gotta take Ben’s place till he’s better.”

“I’ll not have any of ‘them’ anywhere near Jannett!” Pertheron snapped.

“Now son,” the Duke started to say.

“No, Father,” Perth said heatedly.  “You saw what they did to Ben.  What would they have done to Jannett if he hadn’t gotten her away from them?”

“Now see here!” the King blustered.  “Those are my sons you’re talking about!”

The four of them all started talking at once.  None of them were listening to the others.  Each of them was trying to be heard above the others.  Jorem could feel the eyes of the townspeople watching them.  He could still see the anger in their faces, the tears in Ben’s mother’s eyes.

That’s when he remembered what he had been trying to recall earlier.  He had read it in one of Pentrothe’s history books, but hadn’t understood it until now.

“
How the people of the land view their leaders will determine the destiny of that land.  One act, be it for good or ill, if it be such that it sways the will of the people, can make or destroy any governing body
.”

Jorem understood it now.  He could see it happening right in front of him.  If this situation got out of hand the anger of these people would spread.  This could be the beginning of the end of the Kingdom.  As he watched the four men arguing, something that Pentrothe had told him came to his mind.  “
Just as a small stone can change the course of a mighty river, the right person in the right place at the right time can change the course of history
.”

Before he thought about the consequences or allowed himself to change his mind Jorem pushed his way into the middle of the arguing men.  His action was so sudden and such a surprise that all four men took an involuntary step back.  It took a moment for the King to realize who it was that had interrupted them.  Jorem could feel the searing heat of the King’s glare.

“Jorem!”  The anger in the King’s voice caused Jorem to flinch.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

Turning towards the King, Jorem gritted his teeth in determination.  From the corner of his eye he could see that the Duke’s personal guard had drawn their swords and started to advance.  Raising his hand to show that he was not armed, Jorem gathered what courage he could find and put his thoughts into words.

“Father,” he spoke as clearly as he could to be sure he was not misunderstood, “I will stay.  One of us must stay.  We are not above the law.  I won’t be missed at home.  You know that I won’t.  Let me do this. Let me make it right.”

There was silence for a moment and then the King said, “Jorem, you had nothing to do with this.  Go back to the inn.”

“I was there Father.  I was there and I didn’t even try to stop them.  I should have tried.”  Jorem held his Father’s gaze and slowly clenched his hands into fists.  “I should have tried and I didn’t.  I need to pay for that Father.”