Chapter 35 - the Foundling I
The man's given beginning had been beyond humble. All men have a day of their birth and parents, but even this had been denied him. Both his parents had died when he was still a baby, and his dead Father's sister and her husband had taken him in and raised him. They did seem to try their best and give him their all, and his adopted family had been truly wonderful to him, in his estimation. It was his childhood peers and his dealings with them that had been excruciating.
Village children can be cruel beyond measure even if they don't realize it. The other children had teased him about being a bastard and not having parents. He had run home eventually in all but tears, and had to tell his parents what was wrong. Instead of laughing and telling him the children were wrong, as he knew the other children to be lying? His Mother and Father had smiled and sat him down and eased into a conversation which ended with the children being right on some basic level.
They admitted they weren't his parents, they were his Aunt and Uncle. His two 'older brothers' were his Aunt and Uncle's biological sons. Gareen, the oldest, would inherit all his Uncle had in the world when he one day left the world behind. Mekall would become his right hand man if both of the brothers so chose. Alternately, one or both might decide to pursue individual destinies. These older brothers were almost old enough to be his own parents, so they always smiled and treated him the way an older family member looks to children.
He was cast a lot in life to forever be the servant, the underling, the helper. He would never be a leader. He would never become great. A man can choose at least if nothing else, what his own dream will be, yet even this seemed denied to him. His own personal dream? Would obviously have to be much more modest than what he would have wanted.
The gods and even the Great Father, the oldest Father of the gods themselves. The almighty himself seemed to rather have it in for him as it had appeared. Cruel indeed were the various fates that had intertwined to produce his constant state of misery growing up.
He did not know his father, as he had been too young to remember when the great tragedy had occurred. The village children had most of the story right at any rate. His parents were both dead. Like any story not fully understood though, explanations for the story were invented that seemed to make the best sense to each family. Each family's young children then, had a slightly different version of the incident that claimed both of his parent's lives.
They had fallen off of a cliff, taking a dangerous shortcut to hurry and get back home before a sudden spring thunderstorm could strike; they had been trying to beat the rain home, and fallen victim to cutting a real life corner. The rain they were evading overtook them at simply the worst possible moment, while inching along a high, narrow trail at the edge of a cliff.
To tease him? His parents were stupid and lazy. Enjoying a picnic rather then work that spring day, then trying to hurry home before the storm hit. The taunt was that he had inherited their stupidity and their laziness. Bad as this seemed, it was the least of the stories the children appeared with.
The mother had been all but a whore even though married, and her husband grew jealous and angry and slew the whorish wife, before meeting his own dark fate. Some versions had him kill himself, falling on his own sword he had just killed his faithless wife with. Some had him commit suicide off of the same cliff as the 'nice' version. There were various 'versions' that were suppositions coming off of these basic themes.
The worst version? Claimed he slaughtered the both of the cheaters in a drunken rage, then killed himself after whatever period of time and in what manner that version claimed.
Without a real father, there was no way around his birthright, which was of course absolutely nothing. Men are born into this world with nothing, and they die and leave this world with the same. In between, you could either accumulate wealth and respect on your own in some fashion… or be fortunate enough to be the eldest son and inherit your birthright, the accumulations of your father and his fathers before him. Or even better yet still, some men seemed to manage to get both.
A man could by chance end up with a half a loaf of bread, or a whole loaf of bread. A man with only half a loaf of bread, and even a small half a loaf at that? With great talent and ambition and perspiration can aspire to grow his half a loaf into something bigger than what the 'whole loaf' guys trotted around with. It did sometimes happen.
But not for himself, oh no. He didn't get a noble birthright, so no large whole loaf of bread to start with. He didn't get a common birthright, so again, not even a smaller half loaf of bread to begin on. He didn't even carry his own family name; taken in by his uncle, he had naturally taken on that family name for his own.
He had a name, of course. His small name was Shan, and he was absolutely on his own with it. No other child in any village he knew of had this uncommon name. Once again, the gods had marked him as different. He wished his common name had been Dann. It was very common and enough Dann's were running around the villages that when two Dann's met for the first time, they would generally clasp forearms and have a drink together and exchange tales. One Dann might stand up for another Dann just for sharing the name.
But for himself, he could naturally count on no one to step forward and take his part when he was outside of his own family's house and land. He was alone. It was somehow natural then, in some cruel way, for a man seemingly destined to be alone to have a name that reflected it.
Then there was of course the not-so-trivial matter of his Median name; the fact that he was known to even have a median name was something that made him yet once again… stand apart from other boys in the village. No one in any of the small villages he knew of was given a Median name. Well, none but those that wished to show off.
Rich families sometimes gave a Median name at birth, as it was generally reserved for the nobility to do such. Yet, even the nobles often enough did not do so. Because, what if the family screwed up in the Median name? A seemingly pretty young girl with a beautiful mother, might well get cast a Median name 'Beauty', because with her Mother's beauty surely this pretty girl will grow into the full flowered beauty of her Mother.
But… what if the girl grew into a fat and lazy adult woman? It then became a cruel joke that her given and unchangeable Median name was 'beauty', when she clearly didn't have any. No, often far better to let the world give the child a Median name, which would become like a nickname that really 'stuck' and sort of turned into their everyday name.
Who would want to be the parents of a young boy given the Median name 'Courage', who might well grow up to be more interested in craft-work than competing in games. A craft-worker obviously need not have any courage, and indeed might be almost incapable of displaying any real testicular fortitude. Again, the boy's Median name would grow into a lifelong joke… as in 'there goes Dann Courage again!' when the man ran yet again from yet another conflict.
So in practice, only the vainest people trying desperately to appear noble would even attempt a Median name at birth. Only a shortsighted fool couldn't see the tragedy in trying to predict the nature of an adult, when gazing at them in their mother's arms for the first time.
Shan's Median name was "Ildor", which at least meant nothing in his people's language. One mean boy who seemed to be making a living off of picking on Shan all day every day, had coined the joke that the family knew Shan was going to turn out to be "nothing", so, hence the Median name that meant absolutely nothing.
When he had yet one more additional time questioned his Mother Aunt about the mystery of his Median name and why she had bestowed it upon him, she finally admitted to the boy that her brother, his Father… had given him that Median name, and so in his memory and to honor his wishes she had kept it; she just didn't know what it meant.
She had hugged him as warmly as ever as she wiped her own tears away. She was crying softly as she hugged his cheek to her bosom and wiped his hair out of his face. Then she told him his real Mother's name, her full name. He had always kept that name a secret and never told anyone outside the family that didn't already know. WHOever and WHATever he truly was, was his secret to keep, and what's more, he kept it extremely well… for he himself didn't know what her name meant.
How could his Aunt-Mother not know of her own brother's bride, he had then beseeched her. To respond, she decided to tell him about her brother, his real father.
"My brother's name, your father's name… was Jymanae. My family originated in Rhyshia, you already know that."
"So, I'm Rhyshian… is that why I look so different from everyone else around these lands then?"
"Yes and no. You're only half Rhyshian, actually. Your mother was not from Rhyshia. She was from another land."
"What land then, Mother? Where's the other half of me from. May… maybe… when I become a man, I could travel there… maybe… fit in better."
"I… honestly don't know, son. I wish I did. Now, I know you well enough to know what you were just about to ask, so, I will tell you of your father. I was the only daughter, but, I had three brothers. You've met both your Uncles, right?"
"Yes, mother. I like Naxon more, he's more fun when he comes and visits."
"I know what you mean, dear. I love both surviving brothers the same, but yes, Naxon has a way with people, they love to hear him tell stories and entertain them. You uncle Waylem is… well, he's not as… let's just keep it our little secret that I understand a small child enjoying time with Uncle Naxon more."
"I'm not in trouble if I don't like Uncle Waylem as much as I like Uncle Naxon, Mother?"
"No dearest, you're not in any trouble. Just remember its our little secret that I understand what you mean. Never repeat it, but… the oldest Father himself help me for whispering it, your own real father was… lets say 'closer' to Naxon too."
"Mother, was my Father small, like me?"
"My son, know this… and know it well…"
"what would you have me know, Mother."
"You are not small. You are as tall as any boy your age and even older. In Rhyshia? You would have been considered a fine figure for a boy and then some. I speak the truth."
He had puckered up some, then sputtered out…
"Have you not eyes, Mother? Do you not see that I am but a little poplar sapling, trying to grow among mighty oaks? I am doomed, mother… why does the Oldest Father hate me so!"
"Your words are too hasty, son. My eyes work as well as when I was a little girl. Now, it is true that the men of this land… yes, they are short and thick, the most of them. Yet, it is also true, that many of the thickest men here, well, how can I say this and still claim to be a Gentle Woman. Let me put it this way, as gently as I may… not all, but, many of these so-called 'mighty oaks'? Also have a mighty dim fire up in their branches. You, my son… I do not seek to flatter you in any way with this, but, your fire in your branches? Burns quite bright. I am very proud to be the mother to such a son."
"Why does that matter so, mother? It is yet one more thing that the oaks beat their branches against me for! I want to learn to hunt, and to fight! As all of they do! I want to be a man someday! Why must I suffer being taught to be a woman wearing trousers?"
"Son! Stay your hasty tongue. Now, know this first… I am in absolutely no way displeased with you, but I will know where you learned that bit of nonsense. Right now. Do you not know the language of drunken fools when you hear it?"
"I… know not the names. It was something I overheard, and that was all. They did not speak it to my face, so…"
"Shh. Son, it is a small matter."
She softly cooed.
"If you know not who, then I would simply wonder exactly where you overheard this pig speech. Speak with no fear, son. No great harm will come of it."
"When I am at the garden, you told me to go to the tavern across the street for apple juice and sweet bread for lunch."
"Oh, I might have known. Where else would my son pick up the speech of drunken pigs, other than a tavern."
"Mother! I told you, and it was the truth. It was not spoken to my face, so…"
"Son? Let me explain something. I'm more or less fairly sure you were meant to hear it, so you could repeat it. These drunken pigs believe what they lack the courage to say to me and my husband's face, may safely be repeated out of the corners of their drooling mouths. I will correct this error within the hour. But let us talk of more pleasant things, all right? Son, do you like the apple juice, and are you getting the sweet bread with the frosting I told you that you can have?"
"Yes, mother. I rather enjoy my lunch."
"And, have you been polite, and carried yourself like a Gentle Man, when you are about the tavern, concerned with your meal?"
"Yes, mother."
She smiled warmly. "Then I am well pleased, son. You know, when I first arrived here. Until the seeds I brought from my homeland grew enough I could finally again see a green apple, well, there was little else other than your father's face that I enjoyed here. Until you came."
"You will see one day, I promise you. Just not this day. Today, I would rather we go to town. Your father is yet away on his concerns with the blacksmiths. And now that we mention the green apple juice and the sweet frosted bread you enjoy, I would have some myself. Shall we walk to town, son?"
Smiling and excited now, he shook his head yes.
Once walking on the road to town, he asked.
"Mother? We always run… shall we?"
She smiled sweetly.
"Not today, son. I would enjoy the day. I am not as nimble as I once was when I was your age, and I would be well rested when I arrive at the Tavern. Go on, you run if you wish. I'll be along."
"Are you sure, Mother? Gareen and Mekall have taught me to never let a girl be alone when traveling, neither in the forest, nor upon any road."
"Son, this road is short and well traveled. I will be fine."
"Mother, Gareen and Mekall never once made mention of the quality of the road, only what I have repeated."
She smiled at him.
"You can obey their instructions with any other girl, and you should. But… I am quite capable of handling my own affairs when your father is busy, am I not? What does the Hammerfist say of his wife traveling to town alone? Repeat it for me, Shan."
"Father says… I worry about it not, for if any man is so dim as to desire to touch red hot metal, he deserves to have his fingers burned."
"And your Father, the Hammerfist himself. Does he drop what concern he is busy with, to accompany me on my trips to town? Hmm?"
"No, Mother, he does not. The other Fathers do… but… he does not…"
He trailed off his speech. He hadn't noticed that before.
His Mother smiled at him. "So then, while you are wise to imitate your older brothers, are you not equally wise to imitate your Father? You need not reply, for you know it is so. Now… run along, and I will be at the tavern within the hour. As I said, I would be well rested when I arrive."
So, he hugged his mother about the waist, she tousled his hair, and he ran off.
Shan's difficulties in his life primarily stemmed from petty squabbling with the other children. His Father's command that he was not allowed to fight or hunt until such time as Father gave him leave to do so, greatly troubled him. A young child not allowed to fight back against other children taunting him, well, it made him somewhat of a target for the sport of the other children.
Around responsible adults, children behave quite well, almost all of them. Out of sight for even a moment, and as all children they were apt to get up to mischief. Shan liked and even loved his lessons at the Children's Garden just across the street from the Tavern he was approaching. It was when they broke for lunch and play at mid-day that the squabbling started. After too many issues, Mother had forged an arrangement with the Tavern-master.
The Tavern-master was given eggs and milk every week, the extra from their own small farm that would otherwise go to waste or to be traded for profit. In return, all he had to do was provide lunch for Shan every day when the Children's Garden broke for lunch and play, and to keep his eyes and ears on the boy. The boy could now enjoy his lunch and his playtime at the Tavern, and Shan was much the happier for it.
Almost all of the other children, were only at the Children's Garden for a short time, and usually not every day. There was no cost for a mother to leave her children at the Garden, while she was about her business in the town. The adults there at the Children's Garden were to the last of them, just like his mother… A Gentle Man, and two Gentle Women.
These adults watched and hovered over the flock of children. They also instructed the children while they were there. Shan's parents insisted he be there before they opened their doors, and not to leave until after they closed them. Both his Mother and Father insisted that this was his 'job' for now. The only break was for mid day lunch, which for some time now was at the Tavern.
Shan looked about to see if his friend, a young girl he passed idle time with pleasantly was about. The Garden was closed, and she was not about, so he went into the Tavern to await his Mother. Something was he felt, perhaps amiss. His face must not have shown it, for as he sat down and waited, the Tavern-master called out heartily to him.
"Ah! Young man Shan. How goes things."
"They go well enough, good Tavern-master. I enjoy the sound of your flattery, trust me I do, but I am still a boy."
"Pah! Your ax arm may be yet a boy's, but your reckoning is mighty indeed. I have meant to tell you, young Shan, that as you know I am but one tavern of three in the village? And… apparently I am simply the envy of the other two."
"And no doubt on account of your fine service and manners, I am sure."
"Perhaps… but this envy is on account of you, young man. The other tavern-keepers have gotten wind you have been reckoning for me, and I tell you, the jealousy since it's gotten out I have access to a reckoner and a scribbler, well, I could throw green paint on them and it would not show."
"The Tavern-master is most gracious of a host, but it is a small matter. I am here enough anyways, and my mother's wish is for me to seek to make myself useful, wherever I find myself. If you enjoy my reckoning, all is well, for I enjoy your company and my time here."
"No doubt this usefulness, is your Father's wish as well, I would guess."
"You would not be incorrect on that count, good sir. With one exception only… my Mother's wish seems to often be my Father's command."
"I have heard your Father once say, that if a man can learn naught but three things? That they are… the children respect the Mother, The Mother respects the Father, and many hands make light work."
The same two woolers were on the far side of the tavern, the wooler and his wife, as they had been the last two days. The man's loud voice carried over:
"Do all the women in this town wear the trousers? I've not been to such a place before."
The Tavern-keeper was just about to say something, when he thought better of it, and addressed Shan quietly instead.
"Young Shan, these two… they are not from here, they are only in town to collect their bales of wool. They should have been on their way already, yet, as you can see… they are drinking up some of their profits before they even have it. They matter not, if you know what I mean."
"I do, good sir."
Young Shan stood erect suddenly, and addressed the couple politely.
"Good wooler? A pleasant evening to you and your lovely wife, I assure you. I am not old enough to give advice to adults, but, if you were to ask me my counsel… then I would tell you… nay, I would beg of you, good wooler… to please not gossip about my mother and trousers. You are soon to meet my mother, and she is not a woman that takes to idle gossip very well."
"Will your father be with her, little boy?"
"Actually, good wooler? No, he will not. He is away on other matters that concern him. I would again beg you to heed my counsel, and consider it wise. That you should be less concerned with my Father's absence, and a whole lot more concerned with the imminent presence of my Mother. I will not warn you again, good wooler, that my mother is not to be taken lightly."
The Tavern-keeper suddenly found his voice.
"Woolers! We have had several matters in the last two days, mostly concerning you and your wife's tongue. Has not my wife threatened you twice now with her wooden rolling pin? I have never heard my wife threaten a man the third time, and you can take that however you wish."
"Tavern-master, I give you a profit. And I will have you know I have never seen such a place as this. Why, a Tavern is not a place for women and little weak boys in the first place. You will notice my wife here, she knows how to keep her teeth together when men are talking. Women and children? Are best seen and not heard."
"Wooler, what little profit you are providing me? Is I think less useful than you would have me believe. What is the use of your small profit, if you are driving away my larger profits? It is the week's end, and my tavern is empty. I am beginning to think it is you and your wife's tongues that lash my paying customer's ears and drive them away. They provide me with profit round the year. I am beginning to think you would be better served in one of the other two taverns available to you in town."
"I would remind the Tavern-master, that our clothes and purse are in your room, that we lodge in."
"And I would remind the woolers, that can be quickly remedied. Shan? Would you perhaps be so kind as to fetch my wife."
Just then, there was a pleasant and lilting voice at the entrance.
"What's all the fuss? I thought the night was pleasant, Tavern-master. Am I mistaken."
"Oh, it is a matter of no great import. Please, be seated, Shan was just going to get my wife for me, we will tend to your wishes directly. I hope you were not waiting long."
"Actually, Tavern-keeper? Just long enough, I now believe. Shan! Did I not hear the good keeper send you on some small errand? Go and tend to it, and take your time of it."
Shan went off, and he smiled and shook his head at the Tavern-keeper, who rolled his eyes back. They both knew this likely wasn't about to end well. Shan went for the wife, who would be in the house in the back around now. The Keeper stayed in the doorway to the back kitchen and pantry.
The wife of the wooler, as drunk as her husband and perhaps a bit more, was giggling. Then she was laughing, and she finally tugged her husband's sleeve and pointed… the husband followed her finger practically cross-eyed. Then, the husband started guffawing, and slapping the bar in loud amusement.
The wife spurted out, trying to hitch her breath in between peals of laughter… while rudely pointing at the woman who had just entered the tavern.
"Look!… she's… actually… wearing… trousers…"
And she now slapped the bar top in merry amusement at this new development, almost in time with her husband.
"You must surely be woolers. It is the season, and the other woolers I have seen about. My congratulations on you celebrating what must surely be a profitable year for you. I know I have heard the wool is exceptionally thick this year, and that the price is low. What with the price of the yarn staying steady, may I congratulate you on your coming success."
The man quit laughing quite as hard, just long enough to tell her as impudently as he might…
"No, you may not! You? Are a woman… with no man about. Other than a wee tiny boy, and I pass turds bigger than him. It is already admitted you have no husband about. Now, as amusing as all this really is? Put your teeth together, woman, before I show you the back of my hand. Am I speaking plain enough for you to hear me? Off with you!"
"Good woolers, this is a tavern. I understand how words can sort of bounce off the walls, and land in the wrong ears. I mean, for a time I was willing to assume… that I heard incorrectly. That could still be the case. There is no need for such harsh words to follow words chosen in haste. Would you not rather part friends, good woolers? Surely that would be better than the alternative."
The drunken wooler shook his head disdainfully, and paid her no mind.
"I am a Gentle Woman. I would beg the good woolers to not confuse 'gentle' with 'weak'. There is a difference. I am not entirely sure you will enjoy where this conversation is leading us."
Now the whole time, Shan's Mother had ever so slowly, and slyly, been inching her way closer to the two of them. As she would wag her head, or shift from the one foot to the other… her feet were bringing her closer and closer. They so far hadn't seemed to notice, and it was soon to be too late. Now at that end of the horseshoe shaped rectangular bar, she had them penned in. She was sure they didn't realize they had been backed into the corner. Drunkards rarely did, until it was already too late.
Shan's mother had primarily been keeping her eye on the husband, and the fat, drunken wife was merely a buffer between the two of them.
The wife then put herself squarely in the Gentle Woman's cross-hair.
"I can not believe it… I thought all the tales about the Rhyshian whores wearing trousers, and even refusing to ride side-saddle? Were only jest. I can not believe it is true, I am not sure anyone will believe me… this is too funny…"
Shan's mother was slightly less polite for the first time, and lowered her voice to a stage whisper. The fat, drunken, slob of a woman leaned in to better hear her.
"You are correct about a number of things. I am Rhyshian. I do wear trousers. I do not ride side-saddle. But, you are making one small error. I am no whore. You see, a whore charges coin for her gentle caress. My gentle caress? Is free of any charge."
And with that, the politeness vanished in less than a blink of an eye. With no warning whatsoever of her sudden intentions, the tall woman who spoke so politely and so charmingly was replaced with a demon. She had been standing with her hands up the opposing robe sleeves, hiding them. Her left hand chopped out, directly back into the fat woman's throat.
Her eyes bugged out, and the tall woman had two fistfuls of her greasy dark hair and yanked her violently back, practically off of the bar-stool, which tipped back under the obese woman's girth. The woman's head thumped the wall hard enough you could feel it as well as hear it, but that wasn't the worst of it… she simply whipped her melon shaped head directly onto the bar counter-top, making a loud thud which was much worse than the back of her head off of the wall. It rattled the dishes, but not before she had twisted her head and practically thrown the wooler woman to where she landed, face down.
When her face hit the floor, there was a wet sort of slapping or popping sound, which was no doubt the nose exploding. Her eyes already rolling up into her head, she tried to roll over, choking and coughing on her injured throat, or maybe it was blood from her nose, who could tell. She fell onto her side, and quit moving. Blood faucet-ed out of her nose and instantly formed a small pool of itself around her head. A puddle of what surely was urine spread out from her waist.
The wooler husband was shocked and in awe at this lightning development, and his two day drinking binge wasn't helping him in the slightest. His armor of corpulence was working against him just as surely as he slipped and skidded, trying to gain his feet and come after this crazy woman. He was just about on her, being seemingly ignored by her… her back was mostly towards him… he would have her, when…
Zip! Her right hand shot out of her left sleeve and made instant contact with the wooler's throat. There was a blade digging into his throat, and this woman was inching him back further into the corner. Her eyes were suddenly thin little slits of barely contained rage. Her words were slow and unhurried hisses of pure unadulterated venom.
"Now, I will speak plain. And you? You will hear my words and you will heed them. You, are a drunken pig, as is that brood sow you call a wife. I understand it is the nature of a pig to wallow in his filth, and I do not really care… yet? when you get up and shake off the filth, you had best take care, that none of the filth you fling off, lands in my son's ears again."
She paused to press the knife a tad harder to punctuate her words…
"Collect your brood sow, collect you belongings, and be out of my sight… trust me, it is a far more fair bargain than you deserve. What say you, pig, do you accept my terms. Hmm?"
"You… you will hang on the morrow, if my wife does not rise!"
Which was really a poor choice of words. She pressed the knife in just a hair more… she leaned in to let him smell her hot breath on his face. He was painfully aware of her height now, and all his size gained him nothing. She was looking down into his face. Her whisper grew even quieter and more venomous.
"That may well happen… tomorrow. But this will happen here and now. Are we understood?"
"wh…wh…"
"Grunt, squeal, nod your head… do… something to indicate you accept my most gracious terms of our understanding. Do it quickly, before my considerable patience reaches an end. Or I will have all your blood on the floor, and I promise you, as surely as the sun will rise tomorrow morning? I will geld you, while I watch the last of your life drain from your ugly little pig eyes."
And, at the word "geld", two additional things happened. For one, another small knife was in her other hand, and it was pushing firmly up into his crotch. The second thing, of course, was the drunken wooler's bowels evacuated themselves down his legs.
"Normally, I would have a man's oath on it, but yours would be worthless anyways."
She made a face at the smell.
"I'll take that as your aye, that you accept my gracious terms. Now off with you. And take care to remember me next season, piglet. Now? You and your sow? Well, you can entertain everyone. Regale them with your tale of actually meeting a full Ryshian woman. And that we do, indeed, often wear trousers."
And with that for a grand finale, she simply whirled and turned, and walked over to the other side of the bar and sat down. When she released him however, she suddenly ripped the knife off of his throat. His eyes widened, he was sure he had been cut… but it was the blunt edge of her blade. She had done the same simultaneously with the knife up into his crotch.
He stood there shaking for several seconds, then on unsteady legs he trotted upstairs. He threw their clothes and a purse out his room's window, and it landed by the front door. He trotted down and dragged his fat wife, who was now moaning, out the front door and ostensibly off to wherever they would prefer to be other than here.
He was met by the Tavern-keeper's wife, who pointed at the leather purse with her big wooden rolling pin. "Lodging, two nights, two people, one room. That's six coins. Would not want you to forget, in all the excitement."
The drunken wooler immediately unbound his purse, and rather slowly and carefully for his situation, reckoned out six copper coins on his shaking fingers. He held them out for the tavern-keeper's wife to see his reckoning was correct.
She indicated the ground with her rolling pin.
"Leave it."
He immediately dropped the coins, and resumed dragging his wife and their belongings away. The tavern-keeper's wife bent and retrieved the coins, which she dropped unceremoniously into one of her apron pockets and her big wooden rolling pin went into another. She shook her head and smiled thin, and walked back erect into her and her husband's tavern.
"Sorry about that, good woman. I tell you, every wool season, it's the same curse. Pity we can't have the sheep without the woolers coming in to get it. If you don't mind me saying so."
Shan's mother smiled. "Oh. I don't mind. At least the woolers are but a temporary evil to be suffered. Another wool season come and just about gone. So too will the last of the drunken woolers disappear as well."
"Well, I say, good riddance. Might I ask you something, good woman?"
"Speak freely."
"I don't much like keeping sheep, it's why I married a merchant. You can see about how much I enjoy the woolers that the sheep bring. In truth? Sheep and the drunken woolers are a blessing compared to the nobles."
Shan's mother smiled at the words, but Shan was pretty sure she was smiling as much if not more so for his own benefit, because she winked at her son.
"What do you mean, tavern-mistress. Would you not make more coin with the idle rich populating your tavern here."
The woman thought about it briefly.
"I suppose we would. But… the more nobles you have about? The more castles and lords and ladies you have. Then there goes the taxes. Up up up, every year. It doesn't quite reckon out like you would think it would. Oh, sure… it seems a fine thing, but it isn't, at least not for my part. Like spoiled children they are, for all their fancy clothes, and fancy castles, and all their fancy airs they put on. Then? There's the matter of their actions. Worse than spoiled children, I swear! I've seen it, with these eyes. Above all, they are. Above the laws, above the customs. They take all the best for themselves, you would see. You put up with it all, what do you get out of it? Naught, but higher taxes. No… the only lords and ladies I prefer to have around, are all out there…"
And with her thumb over her shoulder, indicated the back door. Her lords and ladies, were the ducks on the little pond she kept for eggs.
"Tavern-mistress, I do often think it would be a fine thing, if we were to send you and your big rolling pin to a court somewhere. I do think, that might set a fine example indeed."
"A fine thought, I would suppose. I just don't think my arm could swing as big a rolling pin as I would need."
All three of them smiled and chuckled, then the tavern keeper's wife changed the subject.
"Husband? Have you not been talking with me and the daughters about this boy and his parents."
"Yes, wife."
"Well, we have the boy and the boy's mother. Tell her your concerns."
The husband nodded, and the wife was off to see about her business out the back. The Tavern-master leaned on the bar, and seemed to be deciding how to begin. He started but stopped twice, he was deciding how to bring this up.
"Tavern-master. Please, speak freely. I have always been pleased with you, as is my husband. Even my boy speaks highly of you. Why do you take such care, is it such a weighty matter? Speak. We are friends. To my husband's accounting of it, and mine, we are all but kin."
"Gentle Woman. I have two things that concern me, and they concern your boy here. I… would not make decisions such as these for my part. The wife and the daughters? They have… taken it upon themselves to call your boy by a name. They are sure all is well. Me? I told them to stop it, until I asked you or your husband. We forget to ask when we see you, but, tonight's entertainment you have provided. It reminds me."
His mother smiled, and took one of the man's hands in both of hers.
"Tavern-master… speak freely. You have nothing to fear from me, nor should you fear my husband. You provide us the service. We are in your debt."
"Oh, very well. The oldest daughter started it, she took to asking when 'the Peen' will arrive. The other daughter, and then the wife? Well, soon all three were calling him that in the boy's absence. Then? My wife started using that name to his face. I made them stop. The wife and daughters, said they were sure there was no insult, and they were sure the Hammerfist would be fine with it. I told the four of them, and I will tell you as I told them. All would seem well enough? Yet… you will not presume to make such a decision. Does the Gentle Woman… approve of it? That we call him 'the Peen'…?"
Shan's mother laughed easily.
"If I am not much mistaken, is not a 'Peen', a smith's small round hammer?"
"Aye, it is."
"Well, Shan. It would seem you are now to be the Peen. The little hammer! Tell me son, do you like your new name."
The boy smiled. "Yes, Mother. I like it far better than what the other boys in the village call me."
"Oh, I can not wait to hear what they call you this moon… last month it was 'the Sapling', was it not?"
"Well… they have taken to calling me 'Naught'. As my median name is said to mean nothing in our tongue here. I tell you Mother, I much prefer being called Peen than Naught."
"Good Tavern-master? I appreciate your concern, but in the future? Make such decisions as you will. And when you ask me or even my husband, do not fear it. You, your wife, and all of your daughters… you are no drunken woolers. You are fine people. Worry not."
"Well, that's a load off of my shoulders, then…"
"You said there were two matters. What is the other?"
"Oh! Yes… you do know, that my oldest daughter was picked out, on account of her music… and she spent some time at a court. When she returned, she not only played the flute much better, she had learned to reckon the music. She can scribble music, if you can believe it."
"Yes. She takes her lunch at the garden across the street. She shows the children music. How is this a matter of any importance."
"Well… Shan Peen here, he is… he likes her music. She was much surprised to learn he can quickly learn to reckon music, as she does. She said he could not play the flute, but, he did quickly learn to reckon the music, then he was able to play the flute. And well enough. She has him do the low parts, while she plays the rest."
"I am pleased. My husband and myself, we have invested coin, time and effort into these matters, that the boy learn to reckon well. How would you expect we would not be pleased he is now reckoning music. I suspect there is something else to the matter."
"Yes… how might I say this gentle…"
"Say it plain, we are all but kin."
"Oh, all right. The daughter, you have seen her do it. She came back from court, and can now play two flutes at once. Now, this is a tavern, and if there is a place for idle words in jest, this is that place. Hmm. There were… idle jokes at my oldest daughter playing two flutes at once, if you take my meaning."
Shan Peen's mother furrowed her brow a bit.
"I… am not sure I am following your words. Continue; and fear not. You have my leave of it, I assure you."
"If the Gentle Woman might use her imagination, perhaps she could come up with such a jest as a pretty young woman… she is cunning in the use of her lips upon not one, but two flutes at once…"
"Ah, I see where our conversation is leading us. Does not your wife's rolling pin quell such talk as easily as it spreads out the dough for the bread? Your wife is not known to be… shy on such matters."
"Oh, the wife has that well in hand, you can believe it."
"Still, I am missing some small thing here. What would that be… does… my son speak so? Believe me, that would not happen twice."
"No, Gentle Woman, not that at all."
"How then, is this a matter concerning my son? I am now curious."
"It is the boys about the village. He is… now playing the flute with my daughter… perhaps the Gentle Woman can now summon… such imagination as to see what I am leading her towards… yes?"
Shan's mother smiled her tight-lipped smile, the one that was not always full of mirth.
"Oh. I see. And let me just guess which boy is doing this, am I mistaken?"
The Tavern keeper rolled his eyes. She knew exactly which boy, without the Tavern keeper naming him.
Her smile went mirthful again. "All is well, Tavern-master. I am constantly reminded, such as now, why I chose you to keep an eye and an ear on my boy. Are all of our matters now satisfied, good Tavern-master?"
"Aye, they are."
"Now then, onto our more important matters, then."
"Yes…?"
"The boy speaks so highly of his lunch he takes here, I thought we would both enjoy some. Have you any sweetbread left, and the juice he favors?"
"Surely… I will see to it myself."
He went and got a small cask of the green apple juice the parents provided the keeper with, and two of the daughters saw to the sweetbread, in bowls of milk.
As they drank and ate, after a time the tavern-keeper and his wife and daughters were in the back, about their business, and his mother asked him quietly.
"Son? What of you on this matter. The matter of the boy and his new taunt. The flute and all. What do you think of all this."
"In truth, Mother? I am not pleased, not in the slightest. Yet… I think of you and Father's words of it. It is just a taunt from children. Really no different than any of the others. Besides, I am not given leave to fight. Even if it truly angered me, I have no instructions from Father, Gareen and Mekall on any matter but games with sticks."
"It pleases me to hear this, but still. Are you just telling me what you know my ears want to hear? Or, does it trouble you naught."
Shan repeated the words of his Father and his two much older brothers.
"My Father, and both my adult brothers often say: 'It is my concern to do well in the Garden for now, and little else.' I suppose… I am well used to all this by now. In truth, I am more vexed by my slow progress reckoning the music, than I am the howling of a few hairy little beasts."
"Truly?"
Shan thought about it, then shook his head affirmatively. His mother smiled and simply said it.
"Young Man, Shan Peen. If I am not mistaken? I think we are getting quite close to you being declared a man. Your Father and I have been discussing it when you are not around."
"Not that it matters much, but pray tell me Mother. How long will it take me to learn to use a sword and an ax and a dagger properly? If it takes half as long as it took me to satisfy the Gentle People of the Garden, I would say, if only in jest… will this pass before I have my first gray hair. I should very much like to see my Father half as proud of me as he is proud of Gareen and Mekall."
"And tell me… would it then please you, to serve your brothers? Would you not envy them. Would you not envy your Father's firstborn, the Mighty Gareen. You would be pledging your arm to your brother Gareen. He would command you."
Shan Peen thought about it.
"Mother? Gareen and Mekall serve you. You serve Father. Even the mighty Hammerfist, my Father? He serves some… absent Land Lord. It is well known, father does not harbor any great love for petty kings, yet, he is in service to one. Does not everyone serve someone, somewhere? Why should I be any different."
"Might you not grow envy, especially of Gareen? He is well known to be your Father's firstborn, and to inherit his birthright. Our great-house, will go to Gareen, as will your Father's concerns. To oversee the woodcutters, to oversee the matters that concern the smiths. Indeed, to become the steward when your Father becomes old enough he can no longer effectively serve his Land Lord."
"Why should I envy Gareen, Mother? Though he could if he wished, I hardly believe there would not be a place for me in his house, even at his table. What would I have to do for it, I do not do already, and enjoy. As long as I am not lazy or stupid, Gareen would seem pleased with me."
"And what would you do if Gareen cast you aside? Where would you go then, what would you do."
"In truth, though I do not believe such would happen, if it would? I am beginning to think that I might serve any merchant I so chose to. The Tavern-master, unless it is some deception you and him have cooked up, he claims I am worth my weight in coin. For my reckoning, he claims to enjoy it, and greatly. Unless the Tavern-master is lying or exaggerating, and I have never known him to do so previously, in my experience… he claims many petty kings can not afford to hire a man who is capable of reckoning and scribbling. Would not my coin purse weigh me down, when I finally returned home? Why, I could then lease, or even perhaps purchase some small piece of land nearby."
Shan's mother smiled.
"I am proud my son has conquered several enemies already."
"What enemies have I beaten, mother? I am not given leave to learn to hunt and fight yet by Father."
"Have you not? You have conquered stupidity. You have beaten laziness. Anger was your enemy for several winters now with your dealings with the other children, and you have finally learned to ignore it. Tonight, I do believe you have finally overcame envy. Always were you jealous of the bigger boys. I have heard that even kings can not often overcome all of these things, particularly envy."
"Well… I suppose it was the Gentle Man at the school the last year. He spent some time explaining exactly how to overcome envy."
"And, how is that done, little Peen."
He smiled at the sound of his Mother using his new nickname, he liked the sound of it.
"The Gentle Man instructs. If one man envies his fellow man some great prize he sees that he has acquired, that is wrong. The only way to beat down that envy? Is to become truly happy with your friend's new thing. The Gentle Man instructs, that once you become truly happy and joyous for your friend? You will soon find that envy never even occurs to you."
"Well, I think that's a fine way to word it. Can you give me an example?"
"Well… Surely you remember when Gareen was away for a time last year. When he returns from a travel, he often brings home some new and wonderful thing. As you well know, Gareen brought home a seeing stone. Almost no one has ever seen one. It's a fun thing. To see small things, and to be able to see all of it, as if it were much bigger, such a wonder! Something as simple as an ant? Me and Gareen spent hours looking at ants and bugs with it. An ant looks to be a terrible monster close up like that… well, I was having so much fun with Gareen all week playing with the seeing stone, I honestly forgot to be jealous or envious of him having it."
"Is this similar to the manner you say you are not in envy of Gareen and his upcoming birthright celebration?"
Shan looked up and off while thinking. The mother smiled, as it reminded her so much of her husband.
"My Father, the Hammerfist? Has no brothers. Yet if he did have brothers, would they not have a place in our house? And have a place at Father's table when the men gather. The other Fathers that do have brothers, this is the normal way."
"And?", she prodded.
"Well, Gareen would then have Mekall and me as brothers, and we would stay at his house, and we would sit at his table. I would imagine Mekall would sit at Gareen's right hand, and I suspect I would sit at his left hand. In a way, I suppose Gareen would sort of become Father, and I would then in some fashion become Mekall. If you are following my words, Mother."
"I am following your words. You are almost fourteen now, Shan. Any winter now, you will be declared a man, I am sure of it. In truth, if you take care to remember your Garden work is never done, your entire life? The Gentle Man that leads the Garden, he informs me he has you spending as much time passing on your instruction to younger children, and that your own studies are less now."
"You have said this to father?"
"Young Peen, in truth, your Father makes each and every decision in our house and on our land. Despite gossip otherwise, which matters not. Your Father seeks my counsel, then he makes his decision. Your Father asks me to advise him. Has Father not said often enough to the other men he works with, that… I would seek the counsel of my horse, if the result were superior."
"Yes."
"I think it is time I gave him my opinion as I have just told you. Now, what Father does with that counsel, is his affair, so I would ask you not to bother him with it. I know that when young, it must seem as if things can take forever. I tell you though… once things finally begin to change, they sometimes change quicker than you ever imagined."
"Then… I would be given leave to finally begin to learn to hunt and fight, as the other boys already do? I would accompany father with the woodcutters and on his blacksmith concerns, as Gareen and Mekall already do? That would be a fine thing."
"Your Father is pleased with you in all ways, and I am certain he will think it a fine thing as well, to see you learn to work with him."
"Will the other men think it a fine thing, do you believe? I do at times overhear the men grumbling about this boy or that boy accompanying the father to the woods or to the smith shop."
"That I can not tell you, as it is a matter those men will decide for themselves. And besides, it is of no great importance what the other men believe; it is only of importance what your Father and Brothers think of you, and I know they think well of you. It is my belief your worries have no foundation on those matters."
"Yes, mother."
"Now. Let me test your wits as I sometimes do. Did you not suspect something was amiss at some point coming here tonight? I thought I saw it upon your face. You remarked at my wearing trousers, as you saw them on me when I hitched up my robe as we crossed the puddles in the low spot in the road. I believe you said… Mother, why are you wearing trousers, when we are not riding and you are not performing your tricks. Did you suspect something?"
"Well… you were wearing a dress before we left, and you went to get your robe you wear when it is a chilly night and we are about. You surely changed and put on the trousers when you got your walking robe. This by itself would have meant little to me… yet…"
"Yes, go on."
"Hmm. I suppose it might not be an accident, that you were displeased with the tavern talk I repeated, concerning women and trousers."
"Is that all that you suspected?"
"Now that I think about it, there was more."
"Was there now. And what was that, then."
"You said you wished to be 'well rested' when you arrived at the tavern, and sent me on ahead. In reckoning the time for you to walk to the Tavern while I ran there, I thought you arrived quicker than I had reckoned. Unless you took a ride from someone on a passing horse or cart, I could only guess that after I was running around the bend? I would believe you then ran lightly."
"For what purpose would I have done this?"
"I now think, you wanted to listen outside the Tavern door."
"And why would I do this thing?"
"Well, you developed your sudden interest in the sweetbread and juice, directly after quizzing me on the idle tavern talk I repeated."
"So… you now think this might not all have been quite as much an accident as you would have normally thought, then."
"Yes. Would I be correct in believing this was all planned?"
"I did not plan it all out, but, I will admit I was curious what was going on the Tavern the last couple days. Several times, things you have repeated have indicated there was some sort of goings on at the tavern, and I wanted to hear for myself."
"Are you satisfied with my wits on this matter then, Mother?"
"Yes. I am. There was something afoot, and though you knew not what it was, you were seeing it. I am well pleased. Your brother Mekall's cunning has been rubbing off on you, of late. One day in the future, you might have enemies that seek to play games, and I believe they will not be half as pleased as I am, that you have your wits about you."
"I understand wits are important when dealing with enemies, Mother. But… of how much use will my wits be, if I can not fight well enough to finish the matter properly."
"Well, the next time you are walking in the fields with both Gareen and Mekall, and you are idle and talking, bring this question up. There are no secrets between brothers, and they will tell you. I know you are impressed with the sheer size and strength of your older brother Gareen, but, what Mekall lacks in size and strength, he more than makes up for with his speed and his cunning. Before they were adults, those two were constantly testing each other growing up. Believe me, it was not a small matter for me and your Father to separate them. They will tell you, they laugh about it as adults, but…"
"But what, Mother. Tell me."
Shan's Mother smiled.
"As I said, the very next time all three of you are idle in the fields, bring it up, and I am sure they will tell you stories. It is all funny now, but when it was happening? It was no small matter. It wasn't just Gareen and Mekall going for each other every other day. I even lost my considerable patience and your Father more then once had to attempt to separate all three of us. I honestly don't know what the neighbors thought of us. First, there was Gareen and Mekall rolling around fighting in the yard. Then, I'm out there and I end up getting into it with them. Next thing you know, your Father can only have his patience tested so far, and no more? Then all four of us were out in the yard."
"Mother! You are not jesting?"
"Oh, it is no jest at all. I am sure the neighbors on both sides of us, considered us all quite entertaining. I remember the one neighbor, the Father? He remarked to us sharply: 'If I come and steal all the goblets, will I have peace and quiet!' and your Father yelled to him, not in anger, but still: 'We are into a cask of apple pressings, you fool! If I break out the goblets and the wine, my wife and my oldest son will be crossing swords! I have but two hands and three sober fools to deal with over here!"
"What did the neighbor reply?"
"I seem to remember something about 'I could get more peace and quiet at the tavern on a raucous night! If I buy the cask of strong wine, will you all dive into it, and be quieter?' and I think your Father said something witty back. 'If clanging swords would bother you less, then do so!' And as I said, it seems funny now, though it was not funny at the time. Your Father was concerned one of the three of us would eventually injure one another."
"Mother, you were pleased when I sensed something was amiss, even though I did not possess the wit to immediately see it. Will such still please you? I feel I am certain on this matter, yet I would have you say 'aye' or 'nay', and if it would please the Gentle Woman, I would ask of you to say naught else."
"Oh. Young man Peen is to examine his Mother, then? I would say aye, son. Continue."
"That… sense of slight uneasiness, which pleased you, is still with me."
"On… what matter, son."
"Not… on one matter in particular Mother. On many matters."
Mother replied softly.
"Oh…"
Curiously, Mother was suddenly more interested in the surface of the apple pressings in her goblet of juice before her. She ran a finger idly about the surface. As if a person observing their reflection in a pool of still water. Mother's long sigh was both audible and noticeable.
Mother asked in but the slightest of whispers he had to strain to make out.
"And what would my Gentle Son make of all this, in sum."
"Mother… as gently as I may say it, do you remember the matter of the often missing sweetbread, when I was but little more than a seedling?"
This made his Mother smile, though it did not cure the situation. It raised her whisper the tiniest amount though.
"How could I forget such sweet things, as a Mother's amusing little games with her child."
"Mother, when you would examine me as a child about the matter of the missing sweetbread, I know you were amused with my childish little deceptions I attempted to explain it all away with."
"Son?"
"Yes, Mother."
She would now not look at him at all.
"All of us adults played the missing sweetbread game with you, did we not?"
"Aye, mother. You… Father… even my much older brothers enjoyed the game. As did any adult that was over the house for any time. Neighbors, family. In truth, all but the house-cat were in on the sport of it, as I remember."
"I will have you know only this. You know sweetbread is missing from the pantry shelf. Yet, where previously we were many adults in on the game we all played with one small child? The game is now reversed, as you suspect. The only difference? Being you are but one adult, and are playing the sweetbread game with several children at once, not a single child. I can not tell you anything further, except I would beg of you to remember the foundation of the game… the adults were never angry with the child for the missing sweetbread, were they?"
"No Mother, they were not."
"Then… first and foremost, when you discover where the sweetbread went? Remember not to be angry with the children who took it."