Chapter 8
“Here now, milady, it’s not that difficult,” Alvis quipped, unsuccessfully attempting to suppress a chuckle. He was holding the reins of the horse I was currently attempting to mount, just outside the stables in the castle’s courtyard. “Just get your foot up into the stirrup and lift your other leg over the saddle.”
“I’m too short,” I complained. Stretching my knee up as high as it could go, I could just barely slip my shoe into the stirrup, but I had little leverage with which to heave myself up. My still-puny arms, despite about a week’s worth of sword training, were not strong enough to pull me up. “Come on…”
Hefting, I got myself about halfway up before my strength fled and I dropped back down to the ground, thankfully landing on one foot and not losing my balance this time. My dress -one of the shabbier ones I owned- was still dusty from my first tumble a few minutes earlier.
“Up you get, milady,” Garrett’s voice said from right behind me, making me startle slightly.
“What are you- woah!” I cried as his large hands grabbed me around the waist and hefted me up onto the saddle.
“There you are,” Garrett chuckled at me, patting me on the shoulder once I was astride the saddle. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you,” I said with what little dignity I had left. I must not have been very successful because most of the party expressed varying levels of amusement. Valens was accompanying me, along with his Captain of the Guard, Lupis Condotti. They were being escorted by half a dozen knights. I, of course, would be riding with them, along with the two guards that were quickly becoming my personal guards; Garrett and Alvis.
Sometimes I forgot I was in the body of a prepubescent girl, and at other times I was starkly reminded of it. Most days I still felt like an adult, so being manually hoisted onto the back of a horse felt… infantilizing, for lack of a better term. And yet, that’s what I was. Well, a child rather than an infant, but I was essentially still someone not yet fully grown, and physically incapable of completing some tasks. Such as mounting a horse.
It wasn’t like I had much experience with horseback riding, either in this life or the previous one. Even Artesia’s memories held few instances of being on horseback, and in most of those she was riding in Valens’ lap. Most of my experience came from my middle school days. I’d grown up in a small town, with little police presence other than the county sheriff and a couple of deputies. Being a small town, where everyone knew everyone, legal justice was less important than community justice. As such, when dumb kids (such as myself) got ourselves into a spot of legal trouble, most of the time it was resolved without the official participation of the formal legal system.
In practice, this meant that kids were given unofficial community service and sternly warned not to get in trouble again. Better to do this ‘off the books’, so to speak, than to give a dumb kid a criminal record that would likely follow them throughout their lives.
For me, I got in trouble for breaking into an abandoned house on a dare. When I was caught, I was told I would either be officially charged and tried for the crime, or I could work for a summer on a small farm. Obviously, I’d chosen to work. The farm had belonged to Mr. Gunter, a stern older man who was a good friend of the county sheriff. The older man’s children had long since moved to larger cities (as most young people did in these communities) and he was getting too old to work it on his own.
That summer had been a hard one; twelve or more hours per day working in the hot sun, replacing worn fence posts, digging up musk thistle, cleaning out the stables, and many more manual tasks the old man couldn’t do on his own anymore. On the plus side, I got to learn a number of handy skills, and most of the daily fence inspection tours were done by horseback (which was necessary, since the horses needed to be exercised anyway). Besides, Mr. Gunter had been rather kind, despite his stoic nature; at the end of that summer, he had presented me with my first ever paycheck. It wasn’t much; he couldn’t afford it, really, but it had been appreciated.
Still, that had been a different world, with a different body. Even if the skills still somehow transferred over -like riding a bike, I suppose- that had been years ago. I was worried I’d do poorly and look like a fool.
“Well, now that we’re all saddled up,” Valens said, glancing at me and flashing me a teasing grin, “we may proceed.”
“Aye, milord,” Lupis nodded. He waved his arm forward with a chopping motion, and almost as one, the horses launched into a canter.
The main gate in the courtyard in Balfors Castle wasn’t very large; it had probably been built that way intentionally. The deep gates held two pairs of thick double doors, each backed by an iron portcullis. The passage through the gatehouse was narrow as well, only barely wide enough for two horses to pass side-by-side. Arrow slits and murder holes lined the arched roof, and I could see faces of some of the wall guards peeking down at us from them.
‘I pity whoever tries to assault these gates,’ I thought to myself.
Between the steep slopes at the base of each wall, the impressive walls themselves, and the narrow pathway that wound up the slopes of the promontory to the gatehouse itself, any assault against this castle would be terribly difficult. The walls themselves weren’t overly high, merely ten feet or so, but they were lined with crenellations and machicolations that would allow the defenders to fire arrows or bolts from cover, even down to the base of the walls themselves.
It was honestly very impressive architecture.
As the group travelled down the single trail from the castle into the city below, I was quiet and contemplative. Everyone else was chatting and joking as we went; even Valens was participating in the telling of dirty jokes amongst his knights. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, like this was some sort of hunting trip.
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Gently smiling, I exalted in the warm spring sunlight and the feeling of camaraderie created by the byplay. Yesterday’s irritation seemed to have evaporated like a morning mist, and I was feeling quite content. Even my meagre horseback riding skills were coming back; I only had to grab for the saddle horn three times to keep from falling off.
The bonfire in the main square was still burning brightly as several laborers attended to it, and I was again reminded that not all was well in this city. ‘Life can be so fragile…’
Looking around, I took in the relatively primitive conditions I saw all around. Even in the wealthier parts of the city, the roads were rough and rutted. There were no delineated sidewalks, no gutters, no real drainage at all. I could only count my lucky stars that it hadn’t rained recently, otherwise the horses and people would be trodding through a sodden, muddy mess.
Further down the main thoroughfare, a line of people waited at a well. Mostly women and children, they were taking turns cranking a handle to lift a small bucket of water to where they could get at it, fill their pots, and carry them home. Running water wasn’t nearly universal in this city; hell, even the castle had little more than a well to one side of the courtyard. The servants had to trudge it all the way up the towers for Valens’ and my convenience. It was… primitive.
‘How could I go about fixing that?’ I wondered. Obviously, an aqueduct would resolve most of the issues quite nicely, but those were expensive and took years to build. Even with relatively nearby mountains, lush with streams that could feed a waterworks project, I wasn’t sure the County could afford the expense, nor was I sure I could find people with the necessary skillset to construct one. Stonemasons would probably be able to do it, but if this world was anything like my old world’s history, their services would not be cheap.
Even if the coalmine panned out the way I thought it would, the revenue from that alone wouldn’t be sufficient to construct one.
I got lost in a storm of ideas, crafting and discarding them as we rode along.
“Artesia,” Valen’s voice caught my attention and pulled my heads out of the clouds. “Where is this old woman you were telling me about?”
Looking about, I realized that we had made it the entire way through the city and had arrived at Riverside Square. Today was not a religious ‘day of rest’, so much of the square was packed with stalls and shoppers. At a glance, there seemed to be twice the number of people present as before.
“Yesterday, she was over there,” I replied over the din of the crowd, pointing towards the far corner of the square, near the tavern Alvis, Garrett, and I had visited. “I can’t see through the crowd, though…”
“Very well. We’ll make our way there first,” Valens reassured me. “Lupis, if you would…?”
“Of course, my lord,” the captain of the guard replied. With a flick of the reins, he guided his horse to the front of the procession, shouting “Make way! Make way!”
The crowd seemed to melt away from Lupis’ path, and the rest of the group was quick to fill the newly-created space. Some few people, either more conscientious or just more observant than the others, dipped into bows or curtseys as Valens and I passed. In a surprisingly short amount of time, we had managed to cross the crowded square.
As we neared the tavern, I spotted the old woman’s stall. Catching Valens’ attention, I pointed it out, telling him, “That’s where I bought the necklace.”
“Hmm,” he replied noncommittally, barely audible over the crowd. "Doesn't look like much, does it?"
"She's a poor old woman, she likely can't afford anything better."
"I suppose you're right," he shrugged. With practiced ease, Valens dismounted his horse and looped the reins around the saddle horn. "Shall we?"
"Of course," I replied with a nod. Dismounting was, objectively speaking, much easier for me than mounting a horse. After all, I had gravity working in my favor. Copying Valens, I also looped my reins over the saddle horn. Well, as best as I could; Alvis, who had been riding next to me the whole time, ended up having to lean over and straighten them up.
We -that is, Valens and I- left the rest of the group there near the tavern and walked the remaining distance to the stall. The crowd, obligingly, parted before us. On one hand, I was feeling particularly gratified by the treatment; it made me feel as if I was someone important in this world. On the other hand, I knew that I was only 'important' due to an accident of birth. Did these people only behave this way because, as the daughter of their liege lord, they feared the potential consequences of not making way? Or, did they genuinely respect Valens and, by proxy, me?
'Now is not the time for waxing philosophical,' I chided myself, bringing my attention back to the present. The old woman's stall was just as shabby, and the assorted handicrafts on display were no different from before; made with care, of course, but out of common, low quality materials.
"Lord Valens!" The old woman exclaimed in surprise the moment she laid eyes on the two of us. She grabbed a polished stick that was leaning against her stall and, using it as a cane, started to stand.
"No, no, there's no need to stand on my account," Valens told her, waving her back to her stool. "Please, elder, remain seated."
The Pommeran word Valens used was 'illya'. It was a common way of addressing older people and had a respectful undertone, depending on the gender of the person you're addressing. The masculine form of the word was 'illyich', but calling an old man 'illya' was an insult. In most contexts, though, it would be translated to 'respected elder'.
"Ah, thank you, my lord," the woman replied, settling back down onto the stool she had halfway stood from. "These old bones don't move like they used to."
"A detriment of growing old," Valens commented with understanding. "Alas, there is a price to be paid for knowledge and experience."
"Flatterer," she chided him, chuckling at him.
"Only the truth, elder."
"I'm sure you didn't come by just to chat with an old woman," she changed the subject, her blue eyes twinkling at the by play.
"As pleasant as that would be, you are correct," Valens nodded. "No, I am here concerning another matter."
"Perhaps something to do with the sale I made to the young lady accompanying you?" she shrewdly asked with a knowing look in her eyes.
"Yes. My daughter," he said, gesturing in my general direction, "came home yesterday with tales of a gem deposit on my lands."
"Your daughter?" she asked, caught off guard. "She's your daughter?"
"She is. Did she not say so?"
"She did not," she replied, shooting an irritated glance at me. Valens, too, looked both annoyed and dismayed at the same time.
"Is that so?" Valens asked, looking straight at me. "Care to explain?"
"I'm sorry," I murmured. "I thought it would be funny."
"Funny how?"
"Seeing her surprise, when she finds out who I am," I explained, hunching my shoulders and looking down at my feet.
"It was a jest in poor taste," Valens sternly chided me.
“Yes, sir.”
Valens sighed heavily and shook his head at me. “We’ll speak about this later.”
Turning back to the old woman, he continued. “My daughter tells me one of the orphans in your care has found some jetstone and amber. Is this correct?”
“Aye, milord, that's what he told me,” she confirmed with a nod. “He likes to explore out in the foothills, see, and he says he found the stones near a stream up there.”
“And you’re sure he did not simply pickpocket them?” Valens asked, sounding suspicious.
“Aye, milord, I’m sure,” she reassured him. “They were still rough and unpolished when he gave them to me.”
“Very well,” he nodded, conceding the explanation. “I am interested in finding this place for myself. Perhaps you could convince the young lad to show us the way?”
“Aye, milord,” the old woman agreed, once more leaning on her cane to heft herself off of her stool. Once standing, she glanced at the sun, now high in the sky, and said, “I suppose it is almost lunch time. Give me a moment to gather my things.”
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