The Baker's Boy (15 page)

After a while he
heard the sound of someone crying out. "Help! Help!" came a woman's
voice. Without hesitation, Jack headed toward the noise. He found himself on a
cleared road. Ahead, he saw a woman being attacked by a young boy with a knife.
He wasted no time in rushing to her aid. The boy was fast and sped off into the
woods. Jack dashed after the lad, but he was already out of sight. He turned
back to the woman and realized she was only a girl.

"Are you
hurt, lady?" he asked gently, coming toward her.

"Please,
leave me be. It is only a nick." Jack saw that she was referring to a cut
on her wrist.

"Please,
lady, let me help you. It looks more than a nick to me."

The girl regarded
him coolly. "It is not the wound I am concerned with. My purse has been
robbed."

Jack desperately
searched for something intelligent to say. "Lady, you should return to
town and inform the royal guard. They will catch the lad." The girl paid
his words scant attention.

"At least he
never stole his horse back, and I still have my supplies." As she spoke,
she dragged forward a large woven sack.

"Lady, you
should return to Harvell at once and get the cut seen to."

The girl
considered for a moment and then said, "I will never return to Harvell
again." Her voice was strong and clear, and despite the coarseness of her
cloak he could tell she was a noblewoman.

"Where are
you headed?"

"You ask too
many questions. It is no concern of yours. I must be on my way." With that
she loaded the sack on the horse's back and faced east. Jack did not want to
see her walk off.

"I am heading
east, too," he said, thinking quickly and deciding that he would indeed
head east.

"That is
nothing to me. I will walk alone." The coldness of her voice made him
wince, but he was not about to be put off that easily.

"Next time
they may steal your horse."

The girl
hesitated, her deep, blue eyes flickering over her horse and its burden.
"Very well, you may accompany me a little way, until we are free of town
and castle."

They walked in
silence for a while, the girl sucking on her wrist to stop the bleeding. Then
she surprised Jack by saying, "I think it would be better if we left the
road." He'd been thinking just the same thing and wondered what her reason
was for suggesting it. Her tone did not invite questions.

He led her into
the woods and tried to strike a path parallel to but some distance from the
road. As they walked, the lowering sun shone through the trees and illuminated
the face of the girl. Jack had never seen such perfect milky skin or such large
dark eyes. The image of Findra the table maid, who had long stood for female
loveliness to Jack, now seemed less enchanting. Here at his side walked someone
more exquisite, more regal, and therefore more unattainable than any woman he
had ever met.

Jack was thrown
into a turmoil of self-awareness. Never had his legs seemed so long and so
beyond his control. Every step he took seemed fraught with the potential for
embarrassment. What if he misstepped and tripped on a twig? What if his foot
became stuck in a rabbit hole? His hair had lost all semblance of order and
fell over his eyes every fourth stephe knew, he'd counted them. And to top it
all off, he'd been robbed of the ability to speak. Not only were his lips
refusing to move, but his mind had stopped playing its part in the whole
process, as well, and kept coming up with ridiculous subjects to talk about. As
if this girl with the perfect profile and cheeks as pale as just-kneaded dough
would want to hear about Master Frallit's gout!

He stole a
sideways glance-there was something about the expression on her face that
struck a chord within him. Gradually he began to comprehend what he saw there:
it was a reflection of his own emotions. She was scared and trying to hide it.
He decided to risk speaking-if he made a fool of himself, so be it.
"What's your name?" he asked softly.

"What is
yours?" she replied quick as a flash. Jack could not help but smile.

"I am called
Jack." The girl seemed reluctant to name herself, so impulsively he asked
the name of her horse.

"He has no
name. Or rather he has a name, but I don't know it." That she did not know
the name of her own horse struck Jack as funny, and for the first time that day
he laughed. It felt good to do so and his spirit was lightened. "I just bought
it today," the girl explained, mollified by his laughter. "If you
think it's so funny, come up with a name for him yourself."

Jack was pleased
to be asked to do this and thought for a while. "How about Silver, after
the flower. I just saw one earlier." It was the girl's turn to laugh now.

"He can't be
called Silver-he's brown." Her voice was lightly mocking and Jack felt
foolish: Silver! where was his brain? He quickly searched his mind for
something clever to say in response. When nothing came to him, he settled for attempting
to endow his silence with a knowing air.

They walked for a
while more before the girl spoke up. "My name is Melli. I will tell you
that, but I beg you, ask me no more questions." Jack nodded slowly. He
knew she was a lady, and so that was not her full name. Ladies had long and
beautiful names. He was pleased she had told him part of it, though, and for a
time, the pleasure of sharing names with the girl by his side was enough to
keep the morning in the past.

The sun gradually
descended below the treeline and the sky turned to dusk. The woods, which
already knew the stillness of winter, embraced the greater quiet of the night.
Jack and Melli both agreed they were hungry. The day was drawing to a close and
so they decided to make camp for the night. They had stumbled upon a deer path
which headed southeast, and they were now several leagues south of Harvell's
east road.

Melli
unceremoniously dumped the contents of the sack on the ground. There was a
large amount of a very unappetizing dried meat and several packages containing
drybreads. There were two tins, one of which was sealed closed with wax. Melli
opened them: the first contained snatch, and the second, to her horror,
contained live maggots.

"Ugh."
She threw the tin away, which proved a disastrous action, as the maggots
spilled out all over the ground and onto the precious supplies. Jack quickly
gathered the food, pots, and blankets, shaking them free of maggots. He then
moved a few yards away, leaned against a tree and proceeded to chew on a length
of pork.

"How can you
eat that after maggots have been on it?" Melli grimaced, annoyed at his
casual manner.

"Easy,"
he replied, "there's nothing else to eat." This answer did not please
Melli one bit. She was furious. What on earth had Master Trout been doing,
giving her maggots?

"Were you
planning to go fishing?" asked Jack. "You don't look like much of a
fisherman."

"What on
earth are you talking about?"

"Why, the
bait of course. Come to think of it, you don't look like the type who would
chew snatch, either." Melli knew Jack was angling for information, but she
had no wish to confide in him. Still, she was glad that she was not alone; the
incident with the boy had badly scared her.

For the first time
she looked properly at her companion. He was tall, if a little thin, with brown
hair that kept falling over his face. His hands were large and
calloused-powerful hands, used to hard work. Yes, there was something
attractive about him. He was certainly brave; he'd run to her aid with no
thought for himself. Bands of robbers were notorious on the east road and most
people walked away at the first sign of trouble. For all he knew, there were
more men lurking in the bushes. It wouldn't have been the first time a child
was used as bait in a trap.

She noticed that
he was dressed very inadequately for the cold weather; he didn't even have a
cloak. She decided on impulse to give him her lambswool riding cloak; she would
keep the one she was wearing because it was a lot warmer.

"Here, take
this." She offered him the gray cloak. He took it gratefully and she
immediately felt a little guilty for keeping the warmer one for herself.

Melli forced
herself to eat a little drybread, which unfortunately only served to make her
thirsty. The water flask was, of course, empty. Jack offered to go off and find
a stream, but she didn't like the thought of being alone. So they went off in
search of water together, Melli guiding the horse.

Neither spoke as
they walked through the trees, and Melli was glad of the silence. Her father would
be searching for her by now, she almost felt sorry for him. It would shame him
to admit to the queen that his daughter had run away. She loved her father.
There was softness behind his bullish facade, and he'd always been indulgent
with her, but now she had to consider herself first. No, she didn't regret
running away. With her newfound ally at her side she wasn't even afraid.

She caught Jack's
eye and he smiled gently. There was strength in his face--and kindness. She had
to fight off the urge to touch him, to casually brush her hand against his. She
told herself it was folly, brought on by the tensions of the day. What was he
but a common laborer-and a smug one at that. He'd purposely made her feel
foolish about the maggots. Indignation, combined with the fear that she might
actually reach out and touch him, made Melli strike out ahead on her own.

She walked through
the woods enjoying the night. The air was cold and soon to frost; the trees
formed elegant silhouettes against the night, their branches reaching toward
the heavens in patient anticipation of the spring. A flash of white caught her
eye. High in the trees a bird settled to a branch. She stopped in her tracks,
suddenly wanting Jack to draw level with her. When he came to her side, she
pointed above and said, "I didn't think doves flew at night."

My, my, thought
Baralis, this is an interesting turn of events. My clever dove has located not
one but two fugitives from the castle. He was seeing through the eye of the
bird an unsettling view of form and movement. He watched as the two companions
made their way to a shallow stream. It was almost dark and the moon glimmered
softly upon the slowmoving water.

He had seen all he
needed. The pair would go no further tonight. He would have them captured tomorrow.
There was no need for haste, as his creature would track their movements. He
let the dove sleep, and as he withdrew his perceptions from the bird he was
aware that it was cold and had not eaten.

Lord Maybor was in
bed with his daughter's maid, Lynni. The enjoyments of the flesh had failed to
lessen his distress. His carefully laid plans would be foiled if he could not
find his daughter.

From an early age,
Maybor's only goal was to accumulate land and power. He had been born the
second son to a minor lord. His father had not subscribed to the view that the
land should be shared equally between sons and had died leaving all his
holdings to Maybor's older brother, Reskor. Maybor had bided time, hiding his
resentment beneath a veneer of fraternal duty, until one day an opportunity
presented itself to him. There had been a deep spring snow and the two brothers
were out helping locate lambs in the field. They were in a section of land that
Maybor knew well and Reskor did not. Maybor suggested to his brother that there
might be sheep still trapped in the distance beyond a low rise. Reskor galloped
off. Not long after, the still air was filled with the horrifying sound of
cracking ice. Maybor heard his brother's cries for help, heard the terrified
squeal of his horse. He took no heed, riding off to the manor house, never once
looking back.

After the spring
thaw, Reskor's body and the body of his horse were found floating on a small
lake. Snow had concealed its frozen surface, and it was concluded that Reskor
had accidentally ridden to a cold oblivion. Maybor inherited his brother's
land, but he soon coveted more.

His eyes looked to
the east, where the crops were bountiful and the climate more temperate. He
married the only child of a great eastern lord. There was no doubting his
motives, for the girl was not sound of mind and had been born with only a stump
for a right hand. It had been easy to convince her father that the troubled
girl had one day taken it upon herself to jump from a high battlement. Both Maybor
and the girl's father were glad to see her dead. Maybor's position as heir to
the father's estates was solid, for the brief union had produced a son. Five
years passed and his fatherin-law died, and Maybor gained possession of the
vast stretches of fertile land that lay west of the River Nestor.

Within a month of
his father-in-law's death Maybor married again. Never one to let his heart
choose his mate, he married a girl of little beauty and taste, but whose father
owned land adjacent to his own. His new wife had a brother who was due to
inherit her father's land. He was a sickly boy of eight summers. He soon caught
a terrible chill while out riding with Maybor and died shortly afterward.

And so Maybor
became the greatest landholder in the east. His second wife eventually died a
natural death, having provided him with two more sons and a daughter. She had
lived a miserable life, unloved and ignored by her husband.

Maybor then began
an aggressive policy of buying up neighboring land: if the landowners would not
sell, Maybor would force them. He would hire men to burn their crops and barns,
set loose their animals, and build dams to stop their water. Eventually most
landowners succumbed to the pressure, and Maybor picked up the land surrounding
his for a very reasonable price.

He soon found that
acquiring land was not enough. He wanted power and prestige. He yearned to be a
man of importance, to have the ear of the highest in the land, and he
succeeded-he bought and ambitioned his way into the king's favor. Now he
aspired to his greatest accomplishment: father to a queen. He had to locate
Melliandra; she held the throne room's only key.