CHAPTER 15
The Boy § 2
The town was small, just like a hundred other such places in rural Westania. Its market street was unpaved but at least the dirt was packed hard enough to keep mud from being a major problem. About half of the booths and stalls were open for business on a pleasant afternoon. The crowd, if such a small aggregation could qualify as one, wandered idly as folks stopped at one place or another to dicker over or just look at things they needed or desired. It wasn’t much of a place but many people in the world lived in worse ones.
Raimunde sighed when he saw the boy talking to a girl in front of her family’s candle shop. She was pretty with big brown eyes, curly hair, and a coquettish smile. They both saw Raimunde approaching and their conversation stopped.
“What now, Dad?” asked Froilan. A trace of exasperation colored his tone of voice.
“We have work to do at the stables, son.”
“Can’t I finish it later? I’m busy.”
“Come along. I need to have a word with you on the way,” his father told him.
Rolling his eyes to express himself, Froilan turned to the girl. “I guess I have to get back to the job now. I’ll look for you next time.”
Her smile widened. “You really do have a job?”
“I’m the rake-pilot,” he said. “You know, I rake it here and pile it there.”
“That’s not very funny,” she said as her smile dimmed, but it didn’t disappear entirely.
“I know it’s not funny. I’m the one who has to do it,” he said, and that was a bit more amusing to her. “Well, goodbye for now.” He raised his hand and waved his fingers to her. She did the same in return.
“Oh, wait,” she said as they started to leave. Speaking to Raimunde she asked, “Sir, may I ask a question? Is he really seventeen?”
“No. He’s fifteen.”
“I’ll be sixteen next month,” Froilan insisted.
“Hah! I knew you weren’t older than me,” the girl told Froilan. Turning back to Raimunde, she added, “I’ll be sixteen soon too.”
“And you’re very lovely for any age. Or has my son already told you that?” The girl didn’t say anything but the way she looked at Froilan answered Raimunde’s question. Tugging the boy by the shoulder, Raimunde managed to get him walking in the direction of the stables.
“I’ll see you soon,” Froilan called out to the girl as he looked back.
“I hope so,” she replied.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Raimunde mumbled, “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Do you think Margee is prettier than Tissa?” the boy asked. His father already knew that Tissa was the daughter of the man who ran the potter’s shop, so Margee must be this new girl.
“They’re both older than you.”
“Not by much and they believe me when I lie about my age.”
“Son, I think we need to repeat that talk we had about puberty.”
“Ack! Don’t say it again. I remember it all. How I have these new feelings about girls and all that. You act like I’ll say something I shouldn’t just because some girl smiles at me,” the boy replied. Then he slyly added, “Or holds my hand and lets me kiss her.”
“What?”
“When the time comes, I mean.” Froilan said with a grin.
Raimunde hesitated a moment before saying, “Come off of the main street with me.” Froilan followed his father into a quiet alley and both of them looked around to make sure no one could overhear. “Son, I trust you with secrets, but . . .”
“But you don’t want me to talk to anyone,” interrupted the boy.
“No, that wouldn’t work. People would think you’re strange if you didn’t take some interest in females your own age.”
“And everyone thinks I’m fifteen. We should start saying sixteen now.”
“Don’t try to distract me and don’t exaggerate too much,” said Raimunde. “Boys, and men too I admit, want to impress girls and women. It would be easy to reveal something secret to one while trying to make her like you.”
“Stop, please. If you keep saying this stuff, I’ll have to rake up this alley too,” Froilan scoffed.
“I’m just saying that you must remember never to slip even when you get excited. The urges will grow stronger for you in the next few years and you’re already well advanced beyond most thirteen year old boys. Whatever happens, don’t tell the truth.”
“How can I tell anyone what’s true?” the boy replied. His sarcasm dripped openly. “I don’t know any truth because you won’t tell me!”
“Quiet! Lower your voice. I do tell you things.”
“Sure, tiny bits and pieces here and there. If I told a girl all that I know, it would be a very short conversation. And even if you did tell me everything, any story I made up would be more interesting than my own real life.” Then Froilan saw the look on his father’s face and added, “Wouldn’t it?”
Raimunde paused before responding. “All right, I’ll tell you something else. Something more important than what you’ve heard so far. But not here. Tonight at home after dinner.”
Seeing that Raimunde was serious, the boy let his father lead him back to the stables.
When they reached their place of employment, Raimunde headed for a corner where harnesses, bridles, and other leatherwear needed mending and Froilan grabbed a shovel. Certain things had occurred during his absence which required the boy’s attention. When he finished with the mess, he leaned the shovel up against a wall and looked around for something else to do. As he did, he saw a stranger talking to Chavel, the owner of the stable. Chavel pointed to Froilan, obviously showing the unknown man who the boy was. Froilan turned away. When he glanced back, he saw both men looking at his father.
Quickly Froilan had an idea. Carrying water was an appropriate task for a stable boy and something he could do without arousing suspicion. A bucket lay beyond where Chavel stood so Froilan walked to it, listening as he passed the men. Picking up the pail, he turned toward the back door and the water trough outside. As he passed near his father, he coughed. The father did not move at first but a minute later Raimunde glanced at Chavel and saw a man wearing a brown hood walking away. Odd that the man was wearing a hood on a nice day, Raimunde thought. Then two regular customers approached Chavel and began to talk. Knowing they would keep the boss occupied, Raimunde went out the back door after the boy.
“What is it?”
“I heard that stranger ask Chavel if you’re really my father,” Froilan replied.
“How can anyone doubt that? We look so much alike,” said Raimunde. The boy just shrugged in reply, letting his silence say all that was needed. “What did this guy look like?”
“I couldn’t see much because of his hood. All I know is that he had a big nose and a dark suntan,” answered the boy. This time the father stood silent and thoughtful until Froilan said, “He’s one of those you told me about, isn’t he?”
“Don’t say anything, but yes, I think you’re right. One of the S, not the Y.”
“We have to leave again, don’t we?”
“Yes, first thing tomorrow. We should stock up on supplies before we go and get some hair dye for the horse too. Good thing we got that money that a friend left for us last week.”
“I’m really going to miss Tissa, Margee, Frieda, and . . .”
“Who’s Frieda?”
“I was trying to say ‘and all the others’ before you interrupted,” said Froilan. “Frieda is the brunette who . . .”
“Never mind, I’ll skip the details. What am I going to do when you’re sixteen, son?”
“Real sixteen or pretend sixteen?” the boy said with a grin.
“Either one,” sighed Raimunde. “Well, at least you’re cheerful about leaving this time. Let’s head east this time. I know a place where we can ford the Feluvial River without being seen and we haven’t been in Amicitia in a long time.”
“I have a suggestion since we have some money. You’ve be
en disguised as a man and posing as my father for five years. Maybe dressing in women’s clothing would be a good for a change.” Raimunde grimaced but did not dismiss the idea outright and the boy asked, “You’re still going to talk tonight, right?”
“Yes. I promised.”
The two lived in a small hut behind the stables. The odor was less than desirable but it did have privacy. After their simple meal, they sat in the dark since candles cost money.
“I’m going to tell you a name, son. A family name,” Raimunde began.
“Is it our name?” Froilan tried to ask but Raimunde reached out, touched the boy’s lips as a signal for silence, and then continued.
“The name is Audric. It’s a very old name and a great one. The Audrics have always been an important family but never a large one. There were plenty of collateral relatives, of course, cousins and such, and in-laws from those who married into the family. But none of those people used Audric as a surname. The others all had eminent names of their own, but the core of the Audric family remained small in number.”
“What happened?” asked the boy when Raimunde hesitated.
“Something terrible; you already know part of it. No one says the name Audric anymore. Most people think that none of us are left and those who suspect that I’m still alive are the ones we hide from.”
“So it is our name.”
“Never speak it. If for some reason you hear someone say it, try to listen but don’t reveal that you’ve ever heard it before. Son, you remember that buried chest I told you about, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. On the first day of every month you make me repeat the directions on how to find it just to make sure I still have them memorized.”
“Well, today isn’t the first so you don’t have to recite now. You should never . . .”
“Never write anything down. Yes, I know.”
“Forgive me for seeming pedantic but I’m telling you something of utmost importance. The chest contains no money or treasure, only a book. A book that tells the history of the Audric line for the last millennium. I wrote the last page myself but there still are many unwritten blank ones to be filled in.”
“What does all this mean?” asked the boy.
“The Audrics have always been leaders, son, and never by force or power. People appreciated our family for our wisdom and compassion, and for another reason which is difficult to explain. The leader of every generation of the family has always been able to convince people to follow just by using words. You’ll figure this out yourself, and I don’t just mean with the girls who flirt with you. Many will follow you because they believe that what you say is right and just. The Audric family’s leadership is an important part of the reason why much of the world has been at peace for most of the time over the centuries.”
“But now no one speaks the name and we don’t have peace,” said Froilan.
“You’re very perceptive son, but then I always expect great things from you. I don’t know exactly when, but you’ll need to find the book and read everything in it. You will write the next chapter yourself.” The words were spoken with passion and sincerity. “Or if everything goes well, scribes will be hired to write about you.”