Pax looked at Pug and burst out laughing. “You know, I think he might.”
Pug grinned at Horst. “I know he would.”
Pax and Pug both laughed.
Part 3
King’s Questions
Three days later, the sky opened up and a flood of water came pouring out. The Acheron became a raging torrent within only moments. And it seemed to Pug as if the rain never wanted to stop. Looking upon the waterwheel and the trough for the downspout of water that powered the mill stones, he saw a potential problem if it wasn’t taken care of: the torrents of water rushing over the slide had loosened the once fixed set-pin of the stones again, making it unsafe. Yelling to Horst to be heard over the torrential drumbeat of rain on the mills roof, he shouted, “We must tighten the stones again or they will break free. The pressure from the downspout has loosened them again.”
Horst understood immediately. This was serious. He also knew it would take more than just the two of them to fix it. Rushing past the door, heading to his living quarters to get Pax so he could help, Horst very nearly collided with a cloaked figure apparently coming inside to get away from the rain.
The man stood in the entrance to the mill with a soggy hooded cloak enveloping him from head to toes. Dripping water and carrying a small rugged sack, Horst figured it for a money pouch of some kind, he watched as a strike of lightning and a clap of thunder startled him.
After only a few moments, Pax and Horst came rushing back to help with the repairs. Pax, a strapping young man of medium height with black hair and a dark complexion seemed to interest the stranger very much. For nearly a full hour the stranger stood watching the three men tip, and then put in a new pin for the millstone.
After the repairs were done, Horst came up to the cloaked man and said, “Sorry about that mister, that was a close call. We had to get that done before I did anything else. With all this extra water in the river, the stones have more pressure on them. If that pin would have given way, it could have been bad.”
The stranger said nothing, simply went on watching Pax. He appeared to not be interested in anything else. After a few moments of this strange behavior, Horst asked, “What can I do for you?”
The man didn’t say anything.
Horst asked again, “Mister, can I do something for you? If not, I have work.”
The cloaked man removed his hood and looked at Horst sternly. “You can watch your tone mill worker. Who are you?”
Horst was shocked when the man removed his hood. It was the king: Kharon. Horst had seen him once in the capital not six years before when his wife, Queen Eliza, had given birth to their second child. Horst bowed quickly and said, “Your Majesty. I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you.”
The king didn’t acknowledge the apology. His attention was for the dark haired youth in front of him. For some reason, the lad looked familiar. It seemed he should know the boy from somewhere. He almost looked like the babe he’d thrown in the river those long years before. If he didn’t know any better he’d swear this was the same one grown to manhood. But that can’t be. He’s dead. I saw to it myself.
Pax and Pug bowed also. When Pax straightened he had a tremendous smile on his face. He acted as if the king visited the mill often. He appeared to be glad he’d stopped by.
Kharon noticed the smile on the young man’s face and frowned. Finally taking his eyes off the youth long enough to look at Horst, Kharon asked, “Are these two your boys?”
Horst bowed slightly at the waist and said, “Pax is, Pug is a worker.”
Pax bowed slightly to show who he was when his name was called. Pug, after a moment did the same.
Kharon nodded absently at the millwright. He wasn’t really listening to the man. All he could see when he looked at the youth was the face of the babe from so many years before.
Then Horst made a comment that nearly floored the king. In an off hand way Horst said, “Yes, it was by the grace of the gods the basket that held our Pax was found floating in the river by Pug. Without him all these years we would have surely been lost.”
It’s true. By the luck of the devil, the baby survived. He must not be made to come between me and mine. The king’s mind worked furiously to solve the dilemma of the youth still being alive. He’d thought the prophecy of the young man marrying his daughter had been long forgotten and taken care of with his death.
The king thought fast. With a smile on his face he asked the millwright, “Is there a place to stay in this town? I know it’s the capitol of the province, but I don’t come this way often, and I left the palace without provisions or tent.”
Horst thought a moment, stroking his chin. “Yes. There is lodging in the town. It isn’t very good, but it’s there.”
Kharon didn’t respond. His eyes never left the face of the youth he thought long dead. Pointing to Pax, he told Horst, “Have this youth come to my rooms in the morning. I have a job for him. He will be payed for his efforts. He must carry a message to my queen. I will be longer than expected in the country.”
Horst bowed slightly and agreed quickly. “Yes, your majesty. He’ll be there.”
Pax nodded but did not bow. He didn’t know why the king would want him to do anything. He’d had the distinct feeling from the moment the king came into the mill he didn’t care for him. He’d kept a wary eye on him the whole time.
Kharon turned on his heels and without saying anything walked into the storm. When he was gone, Pax looked to his father and asked, “Why me, Pa? What does he want with me?”
“I don’t know, Pax. But maybe this will garner some favor from him.”
Pax watched as the king strolled away. In a brief lightning flash, he could have sworn the king had his fists clenched. Shaking his head he smiled at his father. “I guess I’ll be going to the palace. I always wondered what it was like. And he said I’d be rewarded.”
Horst nodded. He didn’t have a good feeling about the king as Pax seemed to. He may not have ever been around royalty before, but he knew men. And men of any breeding are still men. And this man, the King, looked at if he had something besides messages on his mind.
Part 4
The Message
Pax stood in front of King Kharon with a smile on his face.
Looking into the eyes of his king, Pax saw an empty soul. Although the strange man should have held some meaning for him, he felt nothing. This was a first for Pax. Usually one look told him all he needed to know, good or bad. When he looked upon his father and mother he felt and saw nothing but love and admiration, and also for his brother Pug, but with this king, nothing. It was very disconcerting.
The king stood in front of this strange boy whom he had killed once already and said, “Boy, you will deliver this missive for me to my queen.”
Pax didn’t say anything, merely waited.
Kharon asked again, this time forcefully, “Did you hear me, boy?” No one ignores me when I give a command, my subjects answer or suffer.
Pax nodded, watching the dead eyes of the king. This king is like a mad dog, he must be fed or he breaks his chains. “Yes, I heard you. But, why do you want me to take this message for you? You could have one of the town messengers do it. I am needed with my father at the mill.”
Kharon growled at the boy, “I have not the time nor the patience for finding anyone else, boy. You will deliver my message.” The insolence! Kharon gritted his teeth to hold his temper.
Horst quickly stepped in. “Sire, he is young yet. Please, be patient with him, he meant no harm.” Pax had always been too mouthy for his own good. Never knowing when to keep it shut. “He’s been like this, always asking questions, since he was a small boy.” Horst fidgeted, it was a good thing he’d come with the lad, his boy’s tendency to blurt out was annoying, even to him. And it seemed it wouldn’t take much to offend the king. “He will do as you say, sire. Please, he will do it.”
Pax looked at his father with love. He knew Horst was only trying to save him, but he also knew he
didn’t need to grovel. The king was nothing to him, the mill and his family however, everything. Pax nodded agreement. He knew he’d better do what the king said or he may take his anger out on them all.
Kharon looked to the millwright, then at the boy again, and slowly nodded. “Very well, but he must be quick about delivering it.”
Pax answered, “As quick as I can. I don’t want to be gone long, leaving father and Pug alone to tend the mill.”
Kharon growled low in his throat. I would gladly kill this insolent boy now, but I need to make it appear he gave offense. So far he’s only shown a little spirit. That isn’t a hanging offense. My subjects must see me as kindly and fair minded, not a monster.
The king reached into his rucksack and pulled out a wax sealed fold of paper. Handing it to Pax he said, “Give this to my queen. She will know what to do after she reads it.”
Pax’s eyes widened. “I am to leave now? I don’t have any provisions for the journey.”
“Here,” said Kharon, holding out a small bundle. “I have thought of that. This will provide you with all you need. Your two gold pieces are there also for your payment.”
Pax took the bundle and shook it. The unmistakable sound of jangling coins came to his ears. Pax looked at the king, then at Horst, and nodded. “Where do I go?”
Kharon’s mouth fell open in amazement. “To the palace, boy.”
“Where is that?” asked Pax.
Kharon just shook his head. “To Tyre. Just head east along the river and you’ll get there in about four days if you hurry. Go to the center of town and anyone can direct you to the palace.”
Pax nodded and turned to go. Kharon stopped him by saying, “Give that only to the queen, boy, no one else.”
Pax nodded. Saying goodbye to Horst he headed east on the mill road.
Part 5
King’s Decision
Kharon watched the upstart go until he was out of sight. Long before, however, the two mill workers had left the room. I shall one day see to those two upstart mill workers also. I cannot abide such as they.
As the head of the boy topped a rise and disappeared he smiled a cat-eating grin. He knew the boy would never be seen again. His queen would take care of his problem for him.
Pax looked back once and waved to his mother and father and brother. It was the last time he ever lived at the mill, and the last time he ever saw Pug alive.
Chapter 3
Part 1
House of Thieves
Pax had never been farther than forty or fifty leagues from the mill in his whole life. Oh sure, he’d been with his father when he went to get supplies from the next town over, or with his mother to go fetch grapes from a vine growing wild in the nearby woods along the riverbank, but traveling along the river road outside the influence of the mills sight, never. And the leagues to the palace were long. So long in fact he didn’t know where he was by the time the second night had come upon him. The king had told him to follow the east mill road for four days and he’d come to Tyre, where the palace was located. And he didn’t stray a foot off the road the whole long first day. But soon after sunset, he’d come to a fork in the road which veered away from the river in both directions. Not knowing exactly what to do and no one to ask; he hadn’t seen a soul pass by in hours. He decided he needed to keep moving, no matter the direction, and picked the left fork. One way was as good as the next if there wasn’t a sign to point the way.
The first night had been rough, sleeping in a haystack off the main road. He was too scared traveling by himself, with the small pouch of money, to risk trying to stay in an inn. Horst had warned him his whole life about carrying anything valuable because of cut-purses and robbers. One had to be careful not to wind up dead in one’s sleep.
Waking, burrowing his way out from the haystack, hungry and still tired from the long walk of the previous day, he knew he needed help. And food. He had plenty of money to pay for anything he wanted, and he would definitely not be picky about what was on the menu. But first he had to choose a direction and keep walking. The lay of the countryside had changed in the last few hours of the day before, turning from a straight line road along the river with little coverage on the sides, to a wooded area which seemed to cover miles in every direction. He’d been lucky to find a clear patch of woods that had the haystack. Elms, conifers, pine and spruce had taken over where yesterday there had been nothing. Someone had taken quite a few hours clearing a spot so grass could grow.
He noticed a lone elm tree standing in the field which housed the haystack he’d used for a bed, and one lone jackrabbit sitting by its trunk watching him emerge from it. Smiling through his hunger and thirst, and wanting only to be going again, he set off in what he hoped was an easterly direction. But only minutes after emerging from the field he was hopelessly lost again. Not only was he turned around from the night before, he was turned around because of not being able to see anything but trees.
He realized he was in a forest. And from the feel of it, a very big one. And, to make matters worse, he was lost in it. This is just great. Not only am I lost, but I’m more hungry now than when I got up. I need to find some help somewhere. And food.
Pax was weary, hungry and more lost than the day before by nightfall. Wandering in a strange place and finding no relief from what he considered an endless forest, his feet barely moved by time the sun had set on his second day. But this time there was no handy haystack to climb into for shelter. Searching around to try and find another place to hole up for the night he did the only thing he could, he kept walking. And without warning, a light came to him, peeping through the branches and trunks of the trees.
Where did that come from? Pax had no choice but to find out what the light was ahead of him. Slowly making his way through the brush, pushing limbs and fallen branches out of his way, after a few moments things began to take form. In just a few strides he could make out a light coming from not an open fire on the ground, but from a window of a small cottage. He didn’t know how in the world such a place could be tucked away in a forest, but he was grateful none-the-less. Maybe he could get some help from whoever lived there.
Cautiously going to the window he peeked inside. Sitting in a rickety but serviceable rocking chair was an old woman. She was facing a fire blazing beneath the hearth of a fireplace.
Pax knew he needed help. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves and get a grip on himself, after all it was only an old woman, he made his way to the front of the cottage. Not wanting to frighten the poor woman, he slowly opened the door and poked his head in.
Hearing the door open, the old woman started. “Who’s there?” she said, her rocking chair coming to a halt.
Pax slowly made his way past the door and showed himself to the woman. With his usual smile on his face he asked, “Please ma'am, I’m lost and hungry, can you help me?”
Part 2
Ajatar
Ajatar asked the boy, “Where do you come from, boy? And where do you go?”
Pax looked up from the piece of bread the old woman had given him and answered, “I come from the mill in Bon Odor. My father is the millwright. And I’m going to the palace.”
“Bon Odor?” said the woman. “You are a long way from home. Why do you go to the palace, boy?”
“The king told me to deliver a message to the queen.” He held out the letter to the woman and smiled. “He even gave me two pieces of gold to do it.”
“The king? You mean Kharon? He was in Bon Odor?”
Pax nodded, not answering, his mouth too full of bread.
“Boy,” said Ajatar, “after you get done, you need to leave. This is no place for you.”
Pax looked up quickly. “But, I don’t know where to go. I’m lost. And tired.” He opened his mouth and yawned to prove his point. “I thought maybe you could let me stay for the night.”
The old woman gaped at the boy. “You cannot. This is a den of cutthroats and thieves. I’m only here to watch the place. An old gra
ndmother tending to chores while they’re pillaging. You can’t stay. They will kill you if they find you here.”
Pax yawned again and slowly sank to the floor moving toward the warmth of the fire, trying to get some of the kinks out of his tired body. “I’m not afraid.”
The old woman was already too late to get him to move on. Looking upon the lad, she found him sound asleep in front of the hearth. One moment awake, the next, dead to the world.
The old crone could only look at the boy and shake her head in exasperation. I’m afraid for you, boy. I wish I could do something, but I don’t think it would do any good. If you are here when Reginald returns, he may hang you for the pure joy of seeing you swing.
Part 3
Thieves
Two hours after Pax fell asleep, the sound of thunderous hoof-beats descended upon the cabin in the woods and the old woman watching over it. And within minutes heavy footfalls came upon the rickety porch. With a tremendous bang and clatter the door to the shack flew open and in strode a massive man of almost seven feet tall and weighing four hundred pounds. His whole body filled the opening, his shoulders barely having room enough to enter without scraping meat off his hide.
In a thunderous boom of a voice the man said to the old woman staring him in the eyes, “What is there to eat, old grandmother? We are hungry.”
The old woman sat in her rocker, calmly watching as the huge man came closer, the smell from his body almost cloying. Looking up at the man she said, “Nothing. I wasn’t expecting you so early. I thought it would be in the morning you came back.”
“Prepare something woman, we are hungry,” he spat.
The giant of a man moved into the room and four others trooped in behind. None had the size of the first to enter, but none could be said to be small either. Buckgnaw was once a livery owner who over the years put on much muscle. Rusty, a tall, wily, willowy stick of a man had once been a bar owner and business man in the town of Champ, until just recently. Largebolt and Balk, brothers from a different mother, once the proud owners of an apple orchard that made the best heavy cider ever made. Now, each and all, outlaws, running from the king’s judgment. Supposed thieves and cutthroats when the urge suited them. They took great pleasure in helping the king’s men to their rewards of the Gods.