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The Thrall
Topic Started: Mar 17 2009, 04:19 AM (474 Views)
Kedros
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Bard
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Ged leant back revealing golden patches where his hands had polished the axe-haft. Sharing a grimace with his older brother, the one dragging the back of an arm across his brow, and the other turning his neck stiffly to each side- the two of them, though three winters separated their birth, the spitting image of each other, and their visage uncannily that of their grandsire. "You hang on too tightly little brother!" the more seasoned coppicer remarked with a toss of the chin towards the haft. "You got to learn to let go."
If not for this brief respite the two would be unaware, but as it was the bright sound of well shod hooves came ringing up the lane, and they looked over to see the Count's Lancers, each and every one of them looking as miserable as whipped dogs.
Ged caught his brothers be quiet, stay back glance, and made a point of leaving his axe embedded in the round of pine he'd been splitting. Dael let his own axe drop at his feet, stepping over it.
The Captain marked the brothers had both put their weapons, as it were, out of reach -giving a businesslike nod to the score of crossbowmen flanking him to stand at ease. "Dael son of Deleg." The stoney words.
Dael slowly wiped his brow with his singlet, pulling it over his suntanned shoulders. "I take it you've not come for the purchasing of more ale good Captain?" Dael asked, a deep sadness in his voice.
The captains flat lips expressed his unhappiness even through his fabulous moustache. "Would that it were so, goodman Dael."
With a gathering intensity Ged heard the rumour of his pulse in his ears, felt his spit turn a queer flavour. He watched in silence as the Captain dismounted, unfurling a lengthy scroll -which he read patiently piece by piece, explaining to the two youths.
Dael blinked slowly, his face grey. "Captain, how many seasons will it take to work back what is owed?"
The Captain gripped Dael's sagging shoulder in a steadying hand. "I have taken pains to see you stationed where your considerable talent brewing is utilised properly. But even then, you will be a Count'sman all your life."
"Sell the farm!" Ged erupted.
"No!"
"No!" Both Dael and the Captain cut Ged short, their eyes inexorable -and Ged wise enough to know to fall silent.
"I'm sorry... cousin." The Captain bowed low to Ged, and led Dael away.
Dael swung up onto a sleepy-seeming gelding, his last glance at his little brother expressing more certainly than any extent of words one day you will understand. Ged stared agape in disbelief as Dael rode away, the Lancers holding their lances point down behind them as a sign of respect for Dael's cooperation. Each of them had looked apologetically into Ged's eyes as they passed, nodding in turn. The last of the lancers paused a moment, reaching down. "This from my betrothed, it is an ancient heirloom of your Kin."
Ged drew out a weighty key, his mind swimming with half-heard talk, and felt an understanding come simmering to the surface of his mind.
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