Casimir's Journey (8 page)

She bobbed a little curtsy and hurried back to the kitchen. He sighed. This felt normal. Well, at least what might pass for normal now.

He watched as the local people came and went, girls and women getting the evening ale, some buying bread. Always, he was noted. No one spoke to him, but all took note. He wished he had a hat of some sort to shadow his face. He’d forgotten how people paid attention to those just passing through. In a life where most did not travel, they paid mind to those who did.

Finally, Elspeth returned with a heaping platter. “You do look hungry, sir. Here you are.” She put the platter down and went back to the bar. Grabbing a tankard, she brought that over as well.

“Are you well, sir?”

“I am wondering, Mistress Elspeth, if you can tell me if there is room in the stable for my horse and me this fine night.” He felt bad that he was nearly flirting with her, but he needed a place to stay within four walls that would offer privacy. Staying in the stable made him look like he lacked in funds, and that was just what he wanted.

“The owner does let out stalls for man and beast, sir. I’ll tell him you’d like one, shall I?”

“Please do. I can pay upfront.”

She nodded and headed back to the bar. He hadn’t seen anyone who looked like the owner, but that didn’t signify. The man was close by. If there were any concerns, Elspeth would return quickly. He chewed slowly. She didn’t return, which meant he would probably gain a pallet in the stables with no trouble. He turned his attention to the food. The boar was excellent and falling to bits, as advertised. The bread still held warmth, which warmed him within.

When he’d nearly done, Elspeth returned. “More ale, sir?”

“Please,” he said, after draining the last drops and wiping his mouth on his sleeve as he’d seen laborers do. She nodded and reached for the tankard.

“The owner, Narris, says that it will be an extra four pence for the stables. The meal is also four pence, so you’ll need eight pence for the night.”

“If I make it an even ten pence, would you be able to make me a packet to take with me on the morrow? The boar is delicious, as is the bread.” He smiled and reminded himself not to beam at her. It might expose him, even if it helped him in the moment.

“We can do such, sir. I will have the cook make a bundle for you.” Smiling, she turned away with the tankard. She brought it back to him quickly, and he took it gratefully. He finished the remainder of his meal and pushed away from the table to observe the other patrons in the tavern.

As the evening progressed, there were more people coming in. No one sat with him, which said much about how he was viewed. There were normally not enough tables in an establishment to meet the needs of all who wished to be inside, so sharing a table was done often. Everyone glanced his way and sat elsewhere.

Casimir smiled to himself. He wasn’t sure if that was a plus or not. He’d take it for what it was worth and ignore it.

Elspeth returned to lead him to the stable, stopping to drop his coin with a somber looking man who appeared at the bar, like a marionette popping up behind the stage. He nodded at the man, who gave the merest of nods in return.

“This way, sir. Your horse has been brought in already.”

Casimir hadn’t been expecting the hostler to take his horse, and it made him glad that he’d brought in the saddlebags. Who knew who’d been over his horse? The fact that he was so suspicious of his own countrymen made him sad. He didn’t remember feeling this way before.

The stable itself was clean with the warm smell of horse and hay. He went to his horse, patting him down and subtly checking him over to make sure the things that he left on the horse were still there. Everything seemed to be, and he turned around to say something to Elspeth, but she had already gone.

There was a box in the stall, and a lit candle in a clay holder sat atop it. He lifted the holder and let the dim light filter around the stall. Someone had placed a pallet in the corner which he had not expected. He removed the saddle from his horse.

“You still need a name, don’t you?” He looked in the box once he’d set his saddle in the corner. He found several brushes, not the best quality, but they would do. “What to name you? I can’t just call you horse.” He ran the brush along the back of the horse, and its skin rippled in response. The horse swung his head around to look at him. “You’re a good sort, aren’t you? No complaints.” He continued to brush the horse, and he could feel the animal relaxing.

It was warm in the stables. The other horses made the small noises of rest. His horse sighed, and Casimir smiled. He could understand. One of the first things he and his brothers had been taught, once they were able to sit on a horse, was the care of said horse. “I haven’t been very good to you, have I? Selfish dolt, is what I am. I’m sorry, boy. I’ll be better.” He made more of an effort with the brush, working down the legs to loosen some of the mud that had dried. He ran his hands down to the hooves and lifted them up, checking along the bottoms to see how things felt, to see that the shoe was still attached.

He murmured to the horse, gentle soothing nothings, really. It was imperative to let the horse know he was doing nothing to harm, and was only there to help and soothe. The occasional sighs of his horse told him that in spite of his near constant neglect, the horse was willing to forgive.

Casimir stood up after inspecting all four hooves, stretching a bit. Leaning down made his back ache. “You’re a good boy. I think I have a name for you, finally. Toly. Your color is like my first pony. He was the best pony, and I think you have the same good nature.” He rummaged in his pack for a cloth and went to a water bucket outside the stable. Wetting the cloth, he came back to the horse, Toly, and rubbed his face.

Toly sneezed at him. Casimir laughed. “I know. No one wants their face washed by another, but you need it. Who knows how long the dust has been plaguing you?” He was rather ashamed. Toly showed signs of the road even more than he did.

With Toly clean, for the most part, Casimir took the candle, now burning low, and walked through the stable, looking for some grain for the horse. While he was not a destrier, he looked to be a palfrey of good breeding. He was clearly comfortable in saddle, and other than the first day with a new hand to the reins, hadn’t given Casimir a lot of fight or resistance. His father would be angry at him for not caring better for Toly. A horse was a gift beyond compare, as well he knew. He would not be able to take on this quest without one, and he resolved to quit his moping and take care of those who were in his care.

At the moment, it was only Toly, but since he’d been doing rather poorly with him, perhaps it was best he had only himself and a horse to be concerned with. He found a box with grain and scooped out several handfuls into bags that were hanging near the box. He found a heavier leather bag that he guessed was for water, and he filled that as well before heading back to the stall.

His movements had brought the interest of some of the other horses. They leaned over their stalls, a few whickering in question.

“It’s all right. I’m nearly done. I’ll be quiet shortly.” He smiled. There was something calming about being in a stable surrounded by horses. It made him feel safe. Even though he could smell that the stables needed a cleaning, he was not put off. He’d spent a great deal of time as a youngster in his father’s stables, mooning over his pony.

Toly was glad of the grain and water and fell to eating eagerly once Casimir poured the grain into his small trough. There was a second trough and after splashing a bit of water in it to dislodge any old debris, he poured the water in. Hanging up both bags, he pulled the pallet out and laid it flat in a corner. He’d have less chance of being stepped on there, opposite from the feeding troughs. “Toly, I just need to get my cloak, and I’ll leave off bothering you.” He patted the rump of the horse to let him know all was well, and took his bedroll off the back of the saddle. Toly snorted, but didn’t take his head out of the trough.

He settled his bedding onto the pallet and laid down, pulling his cloak up to his chin. Sighing, he wondered what tomorrow would bring. Today had been uneventful, which was good. He was getting his bearings back, getting himself into a pattern that would ensure his survival and success. He knew better than anyone that having a method for approaching the day made a man better suited to accomplish goals than any. He gave himself a reprieve, however. Losing and finding one’s head while fending off the delusions of a sorceress might give anyone pause in their normal routine.

Closing his eyes, he fell asleep to the whiffling of Toly. He was tired, bone tired, but this was the most comfortable he’d been since before he died.

Casimir couldn’t believe his eyes. He was with Thea. She held his hand, pulling him along, laughing as they walked in the forest around the castle in Gallivas.

“I am so glad you’re here with me,” she said.

“I am glad to be with you, also.” He couldn’t tell her how much. How to tell her all that had happened? Was it a dream? He reached up and felt his neck. No scar. It had all been a dream. He had gone through a terrible nightmare, but here he was, with his love, and all was well.

“Father is going to officially announce our betrothal,” said Thea. “Finally! I’ve been asking him to do so for some time.” She stopped and took his other hand. “I am excited to move to the next step in our lives, Cas.” She leaned in, pulling him closer to her.

He dropped her hands and cupped her face. “I’ve wanted nothing more for ages, Thea. When will he call for the wedding?”

“As soon as possible, if I have any say.” They laughed, knowing that Aland was not likely to let them have a lot of say. He was not unkind, but very much a king who preferred to be hands on with matters of family and state. They’d get married when he felt it appropriate. Casimir knew, though, that Thea would be able to persuade him into a wedding date that made them both happy. She and her father had a good relationship, which was important since her spouse would be king to her queen. With twelve daughters, King Aland had accepted that he would not have a son of his blood to rule after him, and so allowed his daughters more freedom than many might. He was wise. He knew that he needed to get along with the man who wed his heir.

That was not a concern with Casimir. He felt Aland to be a second father, so much time had he spent in their home.

“Which means you’ll nag him as a fishwife until he caves to you,” he teased.

“If it gets us wed sooner, so be it,” she answered resolutely. He drew her closer, intending to kiss her as he’d been wanting to do for a long time.

They both jumped apart as they heard a crash and a cry. Turning, they saw an old woman and a toppled cart.

Casimir woke up, his heart pounding and a beading of sweat over his entire body. Why had the dream stopped there? What was it about the woman that made him afraid? For afraid he was, unmanly though he might be. The sight of her made his fear rear up in him like a wild horse.

He glanced over at Toly who was eyeing him, apparently put out at his abrupt waking and unsettled motions.

“Sorry boy. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Toly snorted, and turned away.

He got up, stretching again. He’d been sweating for some time. The sweat mingled with the herb infused shirt he wore under his jerkin, allowing the scents to waft out around him. Well, at least they were more sweet than bitter herbs, he thought. I won’t be ripe with an offensive aroma.

He rolled up his bedding and went to saddle Toly. Once saddled, he packed his bedroll and saddlebags. He took Toly’s reins and led him from the stall and out of the stable.

The quiet yard of the night before was bustling as the small hamlet went about the business of a new day. A few of the villagers glanced at him, but most were too busy with their own concerns to be interested in him, a worn and dusty man.

He looped Toly’s reins on the rail and entered the tavern. Elspeth was at the bar. “Mistress Elspeth, might I collect the packet we spoke of last evening?”

She smiled. “I made it ready for you, sir. Here you are. Good journey, sir,” she said.

“I thank you.” He took the small cloth bundle and gave her a clumsy bow. He was careful not to look like a courtier—that would ruin his guise of a common man. She dimpled even more widely at him, and went back to the kitchen.

He could stay here, he thought. A simple woman like Elspeth who would solve all his problems. He would not be at odds with Catrin any longer. Elspeth was pert and pleasing, a good countenance, and a seemingly good heart. She would be a good wife, and he could live the rest of his days as a scribe, maybe helping in the stable, or the tavern itself.

A future heretofore not considered stretched before him. It didn’t look bad. He was tired. His back ached. In all honesty, his heart ached. Seeing Thea in his dreams and waking to see no one but Toly had served to remind him of all he’d lost. He was again aware of how different his life was, and he missed being the prince. He wondered if he was better off this way, more aware of and kind to others.

All this flew through his mind as he watched Elspeth walk away, merry and graceful even as she moved to cleaning the bar. He knew, although he could not tell how, that she would be willing. He had only to ask.

It would be so easy. All his troubles would be gone, and he would live his life out in obscurity, happy but anonymous. With nothing that he had grown to expect as his. Not his family, and no Thea.

It was Thea’s face that snapped him from his reverie. He loved her. He knew this. With his very soul he loved her.

Shamed, he turned from the tavern and hurried out the door to where Toly stood waiting. He hurriedly mounted the horse, and urged him to get out of the village quickly. He could barely look forward, barely focus on where he was going or what he was supposed to be doing.

For this showed him to be most cowardly. He’d been prepared to die for Thea. He had died for Thea. It was not, he found, the dying that was hard. It was the living. Catrin had allowed him to live again, but at the first hint of making his life easier, he had considered abandoning his goal.

He could not castigate himself enough. One look into his memory at the way Thea watched him, watched him to the end, watched him die, and he knew that she suffered more than he did, even now, without his place, or name, or family. She thought him gone. He knew he had a chance to regain all of that, and her as well.

But put a pretty face in front of him, an unassuming, easy life, and he looked at the path with longing. He was a coward, and a weak one at that.

Hot, angry tears fell down his cheeks. Now he was crying, on top of everything else. But in this moment, after watching Elspeth walk away and seeing a future with her so clearly he nearly reached for it, he was so ashamed.

“I don’t have the worst of it,” he muttered, dashing the tears away. Instinctively, he glanced around to see if there were any other travelers on the road. Thankfully, he was alone.

He didn’t deserve Thea. For all his protestations, he was ready to give her up in a moment. He’d resisted that moment, for now at least. What might happen if he were to be presented with a life of even greater appeal and equal ease of assumption?

He didn’t want to consider it, but having seen this great flaw, he had no choice but to look within. There is not a lot to do when one is on a long journey by horse, no matter how good company the horse might be.

Catrin had been right. Thea had allowed the execution to go on. He didn’t believe she wanted it, but there was something stopping her from just telling her father what he wanted to know. Impetuous Aland might be with his temper, had Thea told him where they went at night that their slippers were ruined the next day, Aland would have called the whole challenge off.

Thea knew something. Something she wasn’t telling. But he had seen her on the day of his death. She was breaking from within. He could see it in her eyes. They told him she would never be the same, and when he smiled at her before raising his arms, he’d sent fervent wishes that she would recover, and go on to live a good life. She deserved it, even with whatever it was she withheld. He didn’t hold that against her.

Unlike him, while she didn’t die, she was willing to take the responsibility for her actions. He knew that Aland had yelled himself nearly hoarse before the execution. He’d heard it from his steward, who was frantically attempting to find a way out for Casimir. The steward reported that Thea had been sobbing in the most heartbreaking fashion. That in and of itself was a statement considering his—former—steward was most angry with Thea, although he never was anything but respectful in his behavior to her.

And here he was, reunited with life and his head, and given a chance to right all the wrongs, and because it was hard, he wavered.

While he didn’t like to admit it, he’d wavered hard. He’d nearly called out to Elspeth, reached his hand and his heart to that new, easier life.

The tears fell again. What had he become? What would this make him in the future? If all it took was a pert, upturned nose and the sweet spatter of freckles on skin, he didn’t like his chances moving forward.

Was he really that weak? Was his love for Thea, for his family, really that shallow? Granted, it had never been tested, never been pulled at all that much before. Now, with all that faced him, it was being tested to a large degree.

He squared his shoulders. With a final wipe of his sleeve, he cleared his face. He was weak. Should he make it back to his previous life, he would strive to be strong, to be the man he’d been raised to be, to be the ruler that Thea was. He would strive to be her equal and win her heart and hand again.

First things first. He needed to get to this chapel and find a way to beat the knight errant rumored to live there.

He shook his head to clear all the doubts and whispers. What would his father say? What would his plan be faced with this unknown enemy?

He needed a weapon. He had the blade, but if the knight had a sword, or mace, or an axe, his blade would be nearly useless. The lack of reach alone would negate it as an effective weapon.

He debated as Toly ambled along. Would it be better to go to the chapel and see what there was to work with? He wasn’t sure he had the coin for a good weapon, nor did he want to bring attention to himself in the acquiring of one. Most of those who carried weapons were of birth, or of a guard, or knights that had reason to carry weapons. In his guise of a traveling scribe for hire, the blade would be acceptable, but seeking out a sword would cause comment. He didn’t want the attention.

So there it was. He’d go to the chapel and see if there were any weapons from previous applicants to entrance, or whatever. He couldn’t remember why anyone would go there, but he’d heard the stories of knights attempting to enter and losing the fight. As unchivalrous as it felt, if there were long gone knights, there might be armor or weapons about that he could use.

He gave Toly several nudges, and the amble became a trot. He was anxious to reach the next village to be that much closer to his goal. He felt his stomach shrink a little at the thought of meeting an insane axe-wielding knight, but pushed that fear way down. If Thea could brave her future, he could surely do this.

“Let’s get there, Toly. Let’s get this done and over.”