Published: 22 Aug 2019

Thorby of Whitten

The boys were not challenged when they entered Whitten. Ian had taken the truffles. “It’s best if I go alone,” he said. “Wait for me…”

“I’ll give you a penny for each, boy,” the Masterbrewer said. “Looks to be thirty of them. Let’s say two silver shillings tupence.”

“You’ll use them in your ale, and make a hundred times that on the flavor, alone,” Ian said. “Ten shillings is more like it.”

“What do you know about brewing, boy?” the man asked, his eyes narrowed.

“I lived on a farm with eight uncles and five older brothers,” Ian said, laughing, “Where better to learn? What more could I learn than they taught me?

“Don’t worry,” the boy added, his laughter gone. “I understand guild secrets. I won’t tell.”

The Brewer was mollified by the boy’s explanation, and agreed to six shillings.

The Goldenseal fetched five shillings at the shop of a Herbalist, who recognized Jeremy as a druid. “Wish there were more of your people hereabouts,” the man said. “No one knows the woods better than a druid.”

Ulee held tightly to Ian’s hand. The alley where they were waiting for Jeremy was dark and dirty, and it stank. The squalor brought back unpleasant memories of Ulee’s apprenticeship in a tannery. The people who passed looked at the boys sidelong or through narrowed eyes as they skuttled by. A boy skipped toward them. His face was partly concealed by a cloth cap, but his mouth seemed to smile. He held a stick, with which he rhythmically tapped the bricks of the buildings as he skipped. A few steps before he reached Ian and Ulee, he looked up. His mouth turned to an O of surprise. He stumbled, and fell against Ulee.

“Sorry,” he blurted, and then skipped away.

“My ring!” Ulee gasped. “He took my ring!”

Ian gestured to a mongrel dog that had been licking a lump of vomit. The dog turned, barking. Ulee saw what Ian had done and concentrated; there were now three very large and angry dogs blocking the thief’s escape. The boy jerked to a stop, nearly falling. He darted to the wall of the alley and stood with his back to it. He looked first at the dogs, and then at Ian and Ulee. A breeze that had been wafting through the alley strengthened until it was strong enough to pick up not only grit, but also small pebbles. The thief, he made the breeze! Ian realized. Against his will, but before he lost control of the dog, Ian commanded the dog to bite the thief. Gently, he tried to convey. We only want to break his spell.

The dog’s bite was severe. The thief cried from the pain, and lost control of the Air Elemental he had conjured. The wind died, and dropped the pebbles and grit. Ian sternly ordered the dog to open its mouth. When the dog did so, Ian released his compulsion. The dog shook its head, and then hurried away.

The thief slumped against the wall of the alley. Blood streamed from his calf; tears streamed from his eyes; his face was ashen. His hand opened, and Ulee’s ring dropped to the cobbles, ringing loudly. The sound seemed to waken the thief from his daze. His voice trembled as he whispered, “You’re a mage!”

“Yes,” Ian said, matter-of-factly. “And so are you. I heard the magic you used to make the wind. You’re very noisy. If there were Red Robes anywhere near, they’d have heard you.”

“Red Robes won’t come here,” the boy said, looking around the alley. “They know better…” His furtive look gave lie to his words.

“Why did you steal from Ulee?” Ian asked. “He’s as poor as you. I didn’t think Thieves stole from the poor.”

The Boy-Thief shrank back. His eyes darted about as if looking for an eavesdropper, or an escape route. Finding neither, he reluctantly spoke, “I was hungry. And I saw the ring. I’m sorry…” He looked at Ulee. “Please don’t tell…?”

Ulee clutched his ring. He remembered when he stood in a rain-filled ditch, miserable with cold and hunger. “No … no, I won’t tell.”

Jeremy arrived to find Ian binding the boy’s injured leg. Ulee whispered an explanation to Jeremy.

“We have food, and we would share,” Ian said. He had sensed Ulee’s concern for the boy. “Is there a place we would be safe?”

The boy thief looked at Ian. Squinting, he assessed the boy’s sincerity. “Follow me,” he said, at last.

The Boy-Thief, Thorby, led the boys to the town square. “We’ll be safe, here,” he said. “Really,” he added when he saw the doubt on their faces. “People are afraid of other people, I think. They do things in an alley and in secret they wouldn’t do in public.”

Ian nodded, and broke a loaf of bread into four pieces. The boys ate, while watching the town people pass by. Thorby was right. No one even looked at them.

“I’m not much of a thief,” Thorby said, a little more confident, now. “I wouldn’t be in the Guild except I got caught once. Not by the guard – by two thieves.” His face scrunched up as he remembered. “They weren’t angry with me, but with my master. They took money from him, and made me join the guild. Afterwards, he beat me.” Thorby glanced at the second loaf of bread and then looked away.

Ian saw the boy’s look and felt his hunger. That was to be for tomorrow, he thought as he broke the second loaf and handed a chunk to Thorby. We have enough to worry about, today. I’ll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.

“I guess, then, we wouldn’t find a place to sleep at your master’s,” Ian said.

“Not even for me,” Thorby replied. “He’s dead, and his cart and all claimed by the town master. They don’t know about me.” He looked closely at the boys, and made a decision. “I sleep in the cellar under the mill – I know a way in. Come.”

A crowd of boys played and bathed in the mill pond. A few climbed onto the still wheel, and dove into the deeper water. “The water’s not too cold,” Thorby said. “And it’s free.” The four boys cleaned themselves and their clothes, and then sat on the bank until the other boys left. Thorby led them behind a bush. He pushed aside a large board that revealed an opening in the wall of the mill. They followed him into the darkness.

The board fell back into place. As their eyes adjusted, they could see a little light that filtered through cracks in the thick masonry and around the edges of the board. “Hedgehog? Please glow your ring,” Ian asked.

Thorby gasped. “I didn’t know it was magic!” he said as the mage-lit ring illuminated the basement of the mill.

“It’s not the ring,” Ian said. “It’s Ulee. We’re all mages – just like you.”

The silence was so profound Ian could hear Thorby’s heart beating. He felt the boy’s fear. Before the thought was completely formed in his mind, he closed the distance between Thorby and himself and hugged the boy. “It’s all right, Thorby. We will not betray you.”

“Thorby? I’ve never heard that name,” Ulee said.

“No,” that boy answered. “I was named for a famous thief, according to my father, one who became very rich. Perhaps my father meant to encourage me. I’ll never know.”

“He’s…?” Jeremy asked, but was afraid to finish the sentence.

“Dead,” Thorby answered flatly. “All my family are dead.”

“Ian?” Ulee said. “They’ll be able to see the ring’s glow when it gets dark.”

“You’re right,” Ian said. “Supper. The rest of the bread. We’ll get more tomorrow. Then, sleep, I guess.”

“Thorby,” Ulee asked later. “Will you share boy magic with me?” Ulee looked not at Thorby, but at Ian. Ian smiled and nodded. Ulee felt Ian’s approval wash over him.

“But I tried to steal from you!” Thorby said. “I made the air pelt you with sand and stones.”

There, Ian thought. He’s said what we both know. He is a mage. Now, perhaps, we can help him understand what he needs to know.

“And I know no better way to show you I forgive you,” Ulee said, taking the boy-thief’s hand.

A few pennies bought the next morning’s breakfast: fresh bread and grapes. Ulee, who had never seen a grape before, grimaced when he bit down on a seed. “Don’t eat the seeds, silly,” Thorby said. “Strain them through your front teeth, and spit them out.” He demonstrated.

Ulee giggled as the seed Thorby spat bounced off his arm. Ulee’s own first attempt flew wildly, and bounced off the rump of a woman as she walked past. She didn’t notice, nor did her escort. Thorby, however, began to giggle, and then to laugh, and then to gasp. Ian became alarmed.

“I’m sorry!” Thorby choked out. “It’s that I’ve not laughed in a very long time.”

Ian took Thorby’s hand. “I’m so glad you can laugh,” he said.

“We need more than bread and grapes,” Ian said after a second successful day of selling the things they’d gathered in the woods.

Thorby helped by pointing them to merchants who had a reputation for honesty. “At least,” he said, “at least they have a reputation for not cheating.”

Now, Ian led the boys into a public house. The publican glared at them until Ian showed him four pennies.

“You’ll leave soon, won’t you?” Thorby asked. “You don’t have to say it. I know—” His voice, scarcely a whisper, was barely audible over the sound of the mill stream.

“We will,” Ian said. “But,” he added, looking at Ulee and Jeremy, “we want you to come with us.”

Before anyone could speak, Ian added, “Just as Jeremy’s skills brought us through the forest, Thorby’s skills will bring us safely through towns and cities—including Kassel.

“Thorby, we go to Kassel to find refuge. If we find it, there will be a place for you. After that? We have vowed to take revenge on the Red Robes. You do not have to join that quest, but you would be welcome.”

“You said your family is dead. My parents are dead, too,” Jeremy said. “They were killed by Red Robes and their soldiers. The soldiers took my brothers into slavery.” Jeremy looked at Ulee and Ian. Both boys nodded. Jeremy continued, “Ulee was abandoned by his family – apprenticed into drudgery. Ian had to leave his family lest he expose them to the wrath of the Red Robes.”

Thorby nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I will join you on your quest. I’m sad for my family, and yours, Jeremy. I’m sad for Ian’s family; they must miss him. I’m sorry for Ulee, too. I am sad. But I haven’t been so happy in as long as I can remember.”

“I didn’t always sleep in the mill,” Thorby said when Ian told him they’d have to sleep in the forest. “At least the forest won’t smell as bad as the garbage piles I used to hide behind.”

Ian’s pessimism was misplaced. On the first night away from Whitten they found shelter with a farm family who allowed them to sleep in the barn, and whose children were delighted by Jeremy’s story.

Soup from a Stone
 

A hundred lifetimes ago, when people were less kindly toward strangers and – if truth be told—less kindly toward one another, a soldier wandered into a village. The soldier had been released from service at the end of a war – a war that had devastated great swaths of the countryside, destroying people and their homes, flocks, and crops. This soldier wasn’t the first soldier to wander into this particular village, and the people knew that he wouldn’t be the last. And, they knew that all soldiers were hungry. As if anticipating this soldier – which if truth be told, they were – they had hidden their food. When the soldier asked if anyone would give him some food, the people shook their heads and held out empty hands. “We have no food,” they said, “and we are as hungry as you.”

The soldier looked at the people and saw plump cheeks and rosy faces, and knew the people were lying. “No matter,” he said. “For I have a magic stone that will make a very tasty soup. If I only had a pot and some water. And a fire, of course. Yes, indeed. A very large pot.”

The Miller looked at the Smith who looked at the Publican who said. “I have a pot.”

The Seamstress looked at the Herbalist who looked at the Woodsman who said, “I have logs for a fire.” And before you could say lickety-split, a huge iron cauldron was beginning to steam over a fire built in the very center of the village square.

The soldier reached into his pack and held up a smooth, dark brown oval stone. Very carefully, using a huge wooden ladle that the Publican offered, he lowered the stone into the cauldron and began to stir.

The people watched in amazement as the soldier lifted the ladle and sipped. “Oh,” he said. “This is going to be wonderful. If it just had a dash of salt, that is.”

“I have some salt,” offered a woman, who rushed away and came back with a handful of salt. “That cauldron will need more than a dash,” she said. The soldier nodded, and the woman threw the salt into the cauldron.

The soldier stirred, and then tasted again. “Oh,” he said. “This is going to be wonderful. But it needs something. Yes, it needs carrots. I don’t suppose—?”

“Oh, I have some carrots,” offered a different woman, who rushed away and came back with a huge bunch of carrots. “A cauldron that big will need more than just a few carrots,” she said. The soldier nodded, and she threw the carrots into the cauldron.

The soldier stirred, and then tasted again. “Oh,” he said. “This is going to be wonderful. But it needs something. Yes, it needs cabbage. I don’t suppose—?”

“Oh, I have some cabbage,” offered a new person, who rushed away and came back with five large heads of cabbage. “A cauldron that big will need more than just a little cabbage,” she said. The soldier nodded, and she threw the cabbage into the cauldron.

Next the soldier said that the soup wanted potatoes, and someone had potatoes. Then he asked for turnips, and two people brought turnips. The soldier continued to taste the soup, pronouncing it better and better as people brought more and more things to add to the cauldron.

At last, the soldier pronounced the soup to be done. “However,” he said, “this soup is so good, it deserves to be eaten from your very best bowls and you should be in your very best clothes.”

The people nodded at the wisdom of this magician-soldier, and rushed to their homes to change clothes and polish their best bowls.

When they returned to the square, the soldier was gone and the cauldron was empty of all except a smooth, oval rock.

“He ate it all!” the people cried. “He was an evil man.”

“No,” said a child. “He only showed us how evil we are for hiding our food from a starving soldier.”

The next morning, the Mistress of the farm offered two loaves of bread to Jeremy. “Thank you for your stories,” she said. “You boys, be careful,” she added, addressing them all. “And avoid Paderborn. I have family there and I fear for them. The Red Robes—”

She stopped talking abruptly and turned away. Ulee would have said something, but Ian touched the boy’s arm and shook his head.

The boys had stopped for lunch by a swift and clear stream. “Why didn’t you want me to say anything to that nice woman?” Ulee asked Ian.

“I saw,” Ian began. “I saw in her mind and it frightened me. You reminded her of a nephew who came from Paderborn and who was killed by the Red Robes. Her heart was heavy; had you said anything, it surely would have broken.”

Forewarned, the boys skirted Paderborn and used no magic – not even boy magic—for three days. The weather was good, and Thorby seemed fascinated by new experiences and the sheer adventure, but Ian felt him getting testy is the best word for it, Ian thought, and was relieved when a traveler told them they were only three days from Kassel.

Let David know that you are reading his story. Email him at: David dot McLeod at CastleRoland dot Net

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