The Brave Apprentice (3 page)

Patch snipped off the loose end of the thread on the last of the buttons and held the dress up for his master to inspect. “Have you ever seen better work?” he said.

But John had stepped away from the fire to peer out the window. “Hold on, Patch. Never seen these gents before. And look—that’s the kings banner, ain’t it? They came all that way in weather like this?”

The strangers were riding from the south in a horseback procession, dark shapes on a snowy road. They wore heavy cloaks and hoods against the cold. The horses, steaming in the cold air, slowed as the party entered the village. The first rider carried the emblem of the king on a flag that hung from his lance. After him came a severe-looking man who pushed his hood back and surveyed the village. He had a narrow face with a hooked nose, and dark eyes that simmered under a heavy brow. His long hair and sharp beard were the color of rust. For a moment his glance lingered on the sign above the door of the tailor’s shop.

After this man came a mounted servant, leading two horses with no riders. Then another servant, driving a light wagon pulled by a pair of horses. And finally, two more important-looking men, with swords by their sides.

People stepped out of their homes and shops to see
the visitors. The blacksmith bowed respectfully, and while his head was bent he secretly inspected the shoes of the horses, hoping there might be some business for him down there. The baker came out holding a tray with an assortment of his goods.

Patch heard John whistle in appreciation, and he knew that the tailor was admiring the fine clothing that was parading by. “Oh. That trim on the cape, very nice. Lined with fur, too—rabbit, I’ll wager. And look at the tall one with the coppery hair, Patchy—that purple tunic you can see under his cloak? That’s the kings shade of purple, no one else is supposed to wear it unless they’re on his business. And all that gold piping and the gold belt—that’s a lord, or some other nobleman for sure.”

The potter’s wife, Cordelia, was returning from the village well with a bucket of water in each hand. Never a shy one, she stopped to offer a cup to the tall lord with the dark eyes. Cordelia blushed as the man spoke to her—Patch could not hear what he said—and she responded by pointing down the road toward the inn.

“Maybe they’ll stay at Bernard’s for a few days,” said John.

“If they can stand Bernard’s company that long,” Patch replied.

“Ha! Well said. You know, though, there might be some work for us in it. Wouldn’t that be an honor? Never sewed anything for a genuine noble before.”

As the party approached the inn, the door burst open
and Bernard rushed out to welcome them. Even at a distance, Patch and John could hear his flustered, booming voice.

“I most humbly and properly welcome you, my sirs … sires … graces … uh, worships?” Bernard blathered, grinning up at the mounted men with a look of growing panic. He seized the tall lord’s hand and pulled it toward his lips, trying to kiss the glove. “Please enter my domain and rest your weary … er … nobleness …,” he fumbled on. The glove slipped off the lord’s resisting hand, and Bernard stared at it blankly. Then startling everyone, he bellowed over his shoulder, “Boy! Stable boy! Come get these bloody horses, you worthless toad!”

At last the entire party had dismounted and disappeared into the inn, practically shoved by Bernard, leaving the horses and the wagon to the hapless stable boy.

The tailor and his apprentice went back into the warmth of the shop, shaking their heads and chuckling. Patch tried to return to his work but found himself wandering to the window again and again to look down the road toward the inn.

“Master, do you suppose …”

“Oh, go on, Patch, find out what’s going on over there. And see if any of them needs a little tailoring while you’re at it, eh? A torn sleeve, a frayed cuff, a missing button …”

Patch got up to run, but John had one more thing to say. “Patch—just a bit of advice before you go. You might want
to keep quiet. I know you, you’re never shy about speaking up, but you haven’t been around these noble types much. They like us common folk to know our place.”

Patch grinned, tapped a finger against his lips, and dashed outside.

Seconds later he arrived at the inn. Even as he opened the door and stepped inside, he could hear Bernard’s voice, unhappy and blustering. “But Lord Addison, you can’t take them. I mean of course you
can,
a noble gent like yourself can do whatever he wants. But it simply isn’t fair! A man has a right to his livelihood, don’t he now?”

Patch stepped into a dark corner by the door, watching. Inside the inn, in the big room full of long tables where meals and ale were served, the tall man was speaking to Bernard.

“I would hope,” Lord Addison said evenly, “that for the good of the kingdom you would gladly part with these bones. But whether you would part with them happily or unhappily is beside the point.”

At these words Bernard’s shoulders drooped and he hung his shaggy head.

“However,” Addison said, producing a small pouch from his pocket, “a certain compensation might be appropriate, were you to have the remains loaded onto our cart by sunrise.”

Bernard dropped to one knee and held his hands out to accept the pouch. “Thank you, your lordship!” He smiled crookedly at Addison through his bushy beard.
Patch noticed his fingers greedily working the pouch, trying to guess how many coins might be nestled inside. “I thank you kindly. It was my honor and duty to help rid the kingdom of this scourge.”

Addison put one leg up to rest on a bench. “Indeed? Did you slay the creature? We were told by many people that a young tailor struck it down by himself, with only a shepherd’s staff for a weapon.”

Bernard’s knees popped and crackled as he got to his feet. “Well, your lordship, Patch, that’s the little tailor’s name—an apprentice, actually, not a real tailor—he
was
on the bridge when the troll lost its balance and stumbled into the river. But it was me who hauled the troll out with a team of horses and hacked it to pieces before the beast could come back to its senses. Why, with one blow of my axe …”

Patch, standing in the shadows, gasped so loudly at this lie that one of Addison’s men, a younger knight with a pleasant, handsome face, turned to see who was there. “Hello, boy. When did you sneak in?”

Bernard’s eyes widened in a sudden flash of panic when he spotted Patch, and he began to babble. “Why here’s the little apprentice now, my good sirs! Of course, when I said the troll lost its balance, I meant that Patch here
caused
it to lose its balance, because as you so wisely pointed out, he did strike the troll with a shepherd’s crook—the blind troll, did I mention that the troll was blind? Fell right off the bridge, the sightless oaf. But in a
way, I suppose Patch did—” Bernard stopped talking abruptly as Addison held up a gloved hand.

Another of Addison’s knights, a burly man with a sprawling black beard, stepped forward for a closer look at Patch. “Him? This little pup killed the troll? Slew the beast in that box? I find that hard to believe.”

“Well,” Bernard said, piping up again, “it
was
a particularly old and feeble troll. And lame. Full of maggots, nearly dead …”

Patch was watching Addison carefully. His face hardly changed expression. But with the subtlest shifts—his eyes narrowing slightly, his nostrils dilating a fraction of an inch—he directed his gaze on Bernard in a way that made the innkeeper’s jaw snap shut before another word could spill out. “Innkeeper, perhaps you should busy yourself preparing our rooms and our meals,” Addison said quietly.

Bernard’s ears turned red. “Of course, your lordship.” He shuffled out of the room. The moment he passed through the doorway and disappeared, Patch could hear the sound of coins being emptied from the bag into Bernard’s palm.

“And some ales while you’re at it!” shouted the burly one after the innkeeper.

“Right!” Bernard called back, his voice cracking. There came the sound of coins hitting the floor, followed by muffled cursing.

Addison exhaled loudly, drew out a chair, and sat at
one of the tables. He pulled the gloves off his hands, finger by finger. “Young tailor, please tell me that you are not as talkative as that innkeeper.”

“No, my lord,” said Patch. “I mean yes. I mean I’m not.”

“I’m glad. Now come over here and tell us: Did you really kill that troll?”

“I did, my lord. At least, I knocked him into the river, where he was trapped under the roots of a tree and drowned. Although I believe the troll would have died soon anyway. He was old and very sick.”

Addison brushed his rusty beard with the back of his hand. “An honest answer. And is it true that there was an old man with you, a friend you were trying to save?”

“Yes, my lord,” Patch said softly.

The younger of the knights sat down beside Patch. “That must have been quite an adventure, boy. Not everyone who confronts a troll is so lucky.” A shadow crossed the young knight’s face suddenly. He looked anxiously at Addison, as if he might have offended him somehow.

Addison’s expression did not alter, and he waved his hand. “Never mind, Gosling.”

The burly knight approached, holding something that might have been mistaken for a square of leather, but it was a couple of inches thick. Patch recognized it for what it was: a piece of hide that Bernard had taken from the drowned troll. “Have you seen this, Lord Addison?” he said, handing it to the rust-bearded nobleman.

Addison took the hide in his own hands, hefting it
and running his fingers across the pebbly outer surface.

“It’s very tough,” Patch said. “It took Bernard a long time to saw it off.”

Addison offered Patch a frosty sideways glance. He passed the hide to Gosling, saying, “We should take this as well. It would be difficult for an arrow to pierce all the way through, wouldn’t it?” Gosling nodded.

The door to the kitchen banged open, and Bernard returned bearing a tray with three mugs. He put these down on the table where Addison sat, then tucked the tray under his arm and stood there, rocking on the balls of his feet and glancing nervously toward the piece of troll hide.

“Something to eat, if you please,” said Addison. “For us and the boy. Then you will kindly leave us be.” Bernard looked down at Patch, offered a fleeting, fraudulent smile to Lord Addison and the knights, and then left the room again, muttering when he thought he was beyond earshot. Gosling laughed and leaned back in his chair. “What a charming fellow. Don’t you think, Mannon?”

The burly knight snorted. “Northerners.”

“Your name is Patch, is that correct?” asked Addison.

“Yes, my lord.”

“I will get directly to the heart of the matter. My name is Lord Addison. My companions here are Gosling and Mannon.” The two men nodded at their introductions, Gosling with a smile and Mannon with a grunt. “Word of your encounter with the troll has reached Dartham,
and King Milo has taken a particular interest in your story. I have been sent to find you and bring you back to Dartham. There you will be introduced to the court and will tell them about your encounter with the monster.”

Patch’s mouth had slowly opened as Addison spoke. He stood there blinking.
Dartham, the castle on the river. Home of the king.
He’d dreamed of seeing it one day, but had never imagined he’d ever walk inside.

Addison said, “I trust you will not object. The king was adamant.”

Gosling leaned forward, grinning. “Addison, I think you’ve stunned him. Shall I shake him until he recovers?”

Patch found his voice at last. “It’s just so—I never expected—of course I don’t object!”

“Very good. Not that it would have mattered. Like that pile of bones, you would have come either way,” said Addison without emotion. “There is an important council in three days, and we must reach Dartham by then. Which means we leave in the morning.”

apprentice, going to meet the king. And the young queen as well—I’ve heard she’s a beauty! My mind can hardly absorb the idea! Here, Patch, take your tools, you might find some work along the way.” John stuffed the coffer into a bag with the rest of Patch’s belongings.

“You’ll send word to my parents, won’t you?”