Chapter 21 Market
We go back to when the Earth Scientists were still here. They brought horses and all types of animals to raise here but decided that the water buffalo they introduced to Midhe Nuae needed to be more aggressive. They changed us in their labs, made us different. – Prince Eater #34
Whether Fia curled across Alec’s feet as he worked, walked beside Erienne when she ran errands, or stretched out with her head on Jon’s chest, Fia’s devotion brought an improvement in Jon’s outlook and he would often scratch Fia’s ears affectionately.
Alec had to admit that Erienne’s care also helped Jon’s recovery. When he ate, she would smile and coax and urge Jon “a little more, only a bit more” and Jon would oblige. It was her idea to mash solid food with a mortar and pestle, then spoon tiny amounts of it into the side of Jon’s mouth. When he reached the point where he wanted to feed himself, she helped his unsteady left hand hold the utensils as if doing so was the most natural thing in the world.
After meals were over and Jon washed up again, Erienne would sit next to Jon and talk about her day, the latest news, or the current gossip making the rounds in SnakeIn. Jon didn’t usually respond to what she was saying, but his gaze told Alec that Jon was listening to it all. Alec used that time to run errands, go to the green grocer, or, at long last, be able to thoroughly scour thrift shops for clothes that fit Jon, Erienne, or himself. Sometimes he simply wandered to stretch his legs and clear his head.
He kept his eye out for ways in which they could earn a living when the recovery year was complete. He was a soldier, trained by his father from the time that Alec first learned to walk. He didn’t know how to be anything else. He had been able to find small jobs such as loading and unloading ships or wagons, and on one occasion he chopped up and removed a fallen tree from someone’s garden. The money from the small jobs helped with daily expenses, and although Tom never failed to send over a purse every dimming, Alec felt he didn’t need to scrimp as much with the money he’d earned himself.
One late morning after laboring to load a cargo ship’s haul into separate wheelbarrows for fishmongers to sell at the city market, Alec found himself wandering through the market stalls searching for something to take home to Jon. When he paused to get his bearings someone bumped into him from behind. He spun warily, fists at the ready, only to see a large man holding his palms up in apology.
“Sorry, sorry, meant no harm. Just not watching where I was going.” the man said quickly.
Alec noted the man’s chiseled features and dark curly hair and realized that he was the delivery man who helped Rory.
“Hey,” the delivery man said. “Aren’t you Mr. Jarek’s friend?”
“I am,” Alec acknowledged guardedly.
“How’s your husband doing? He looked like he’d been hurt badly,” the delivery man asked.
“He’s fine,” Alec replied. “We were worried that he’d catch your cold, but he’s okay.”
“Yeah, turns out it was an allergy of some type. Nothing catchy at all,” the delivery man explained. He curved his elbow over his mouth and exaggerated a fake cough. When he recovered, he smiled and said, “I’ve got to get going. Got a job waiting. Mr. Jarek said that the two of you are new in town, so don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.” He waved his hand in a casual circle. “Everybody knows where to find me.” With that, the delivery man turned and hurried off through the crowd.
“Thank you,” Alec said to the man’s disappearing back. Alec looked around to see what direction he wanted to go next. He discovered he was standing next to an elderly grandmother and a young girl who were offering various flowers for sale from a small, roughly built stand. Alec meant to walk by, thinking that something more tangible would be best, such as a nice belt that fit Jon better after the weight loss caused by his injuries, or a sturdy hunting knife to replace the one lost during the ambush, but an array of white blossoms caught his eye. He also noticed the raggedness of the girl’s clothes and how the elderly woman had to hold her thin shawl closed. He greeted the woman pleasantly and asked after the white flower buds.
“They’re closed now,” the elderly woman explained. “But they’ll open wide after the suns set. They’re moonflowers, grown from the finest seedlings brought here from Earth.”
“They are very special to a friend of mine,” he said with a smile. “I’d like a small bouquet, if I may.”
“Of course, sir, of course,” the woman agreed happily as she waved at the girl to wrap up the stems.
Alec couldn’t help but smile as he thought about the surprise that would be on Jon’s face. When he reached the inn, he wanted to run up the stairs to their attic room, but walked up slowly, being careful not to damage Jon’s moonflowers. He tucked them behind his back as he opened the door. Jon was sitting in one of the upholstered chairs while Erienne was organizing medication and dishes on the small table. She glanced up at Alec at the same time that Jon did, so she didn’t see Jon’s happiness when Alec revealed the gift.
“Oh, they’re beautiful,” Erienne said, her voice breathy and her eyes wide. She cautiously picked her way around Fia who was stretched out in the middle of the room and then hurried over to claim her prize. When she turned her back to the two men to look for an empty jar she could fill with water, she added, “I don’t think anyone has ever brought me flowers.”
Alec’s eyes were wide in astonishment as he held up his open hands questioningly. Jon sighed, tipped his head back and forth as if he had no answer to the dilemma, but then waved toward Erienne to indicate they should let her have the bouquet. Alec signaled his acquiescence, pleased that Jon realized he had intended the flowers for him, but also glad Jon was not willing to hurt Erienne’s feelings.
She moved the various items on the small table and placed the flowers in the center proudly. Walking to where Alec still stood by the door, she went up on her tiptoes, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, Erienne. But you need to thank Jon, too. He’s the one who suggested it,” Alec pretended gallantly.
“Oh,” she said softly. She looked back and forth between the two men as tears rolled down her cheeks. “The two of you are so kind to me. Other people called me names, and some of them even spit at me. You always appreciate the few things I can do to help, and you’ve made me feel as if I have a home again.”
“You do, Erienne,” Jon told her. “Of course, this is your home. You and Fia are family now.”
Fia stretched as she rose from the floor, wandered over to Erienne, and pushed her nose against the palm of Erienne’s hand. The three of them chuckled at the dog’s obvious concern for her. When Alec settled in the empty chair opposite Jon, Fia walked over to Alec and then sat down on top of his feet. She leaned against his legs, rested her head on his knees, and cast large, pleading eyes toward him.
“I hope dinner will be ready soon. I’m starved,” Alec said idly as he stroked the dog’s head and ears.
“I’ll run down and see,” Erienne offered as she headed toward the door. “I need to go downstairs anyway because I want to borrow a vase for the flowers. That jar is too small.”
When the door swung closed behind her, Alec leaned forward and rested one hand on Jon’s knee and Jon placed his hand over Alec’s. The archer missed their time alone together and was glad for this rare moment. He didn’t begrudge Erienne the flowers. He realized that she worked as hard as he did caring for Jon, even if slower to respond to Jon than Alec himself would be. He understood that her presence made all their lives easier. Still, he longed for an evening with only Jon and him sitting talking, or maybe with Jon already sleeping and Alec beside him in the uncomfortable wooden chair, or perhaps sitting side by side with no conversation at all, and Jon’s hand resting in his, the way it was now. He heard Erienne’s footsteps coming back up the stairs, so he squeezed Jon’s hand, and then nudged Fia to one side so he could rise.
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“I’d like to get some of this fish smell off me,” he said as he grabbed two empty buckets. “I’ll pop down and get some fresh water first.”
He smiled at Erienne as they passed on the stairs, but didn’t turn to watch her ascend. Nor did he notice that she had paused to observe him.
Jon missed Alec’s company, missed how they teased each other, and missed how amusingly meticulous Alec was in his care for Jon. Alec was hauling stones for a builder and had been working for a solid dimming. When he came home in the evenings, he was so exhausted that he ate a few bites of his meal and then went straight to sleep. Erienne was kind to him, her touch was tender, and she had a good sense of humor, but she was quick to abandon tasks as “good enough.” Alec never short-changed Jon’s care that way. He remembered teasing him when Alec tried to wash his feet and the memory caused Jon to chuckle all over again.
One afternoon Jon was startled awake by someone’s hand stroking him tenderly. Thinking Alec was home early, he popped his eyes open and instead saw Erienne leaning forward. Each move was gentle and exciting. He gulped with difficulty and muttered, “Erienne, no. I mean, you don’t have…you shouldn’t…” His voice trailed off.
“Jon,” she murmured softly. “Jon, let me, please. This is the one thing they said I was good at.”
He gulped again and tried to push her away weakly with his good arm when she leaned farther forward. He heard Fia’s toenails clip-clop across the floor as the dog jumped onto one of the cots. Although he could not look, he sensed that it was Alec’s.
Afterward, he felt good about it and guilty at the same time. He thought of Alec’s strong, caring hands and remembered the long hours and days Alec had put in alone, with little to no help, nursing him back to health. He thought of all their conversations before his brothers died when they discussed where they would live, on the coast perhaps; what flowers to grow in the garden, maybe morning glories to balance the moonflowers; what color their kitchen might be, yellow kitchens are always more welcoming. He thought about the horrible day that his father and the Most Revered turned on him. Alec was the one who rode out to rescue him. Alec was the one who sacrificed a successful career as an admired and upcoming member of the Kings Royal Archers. And now, Jon had betrayed that love, that loyalty, that friendship, that honor. They had never had a reason to discuss it, so Jon wasn’t sure that Alec even realized that he enjoyed women as much as he enjoyed men. Still, Jon admonished himself, he should not have allowed Erienne the opportunity. His love for Alec was deep and true, and he owed Alec his faithfulness. He should have refused her more forcefully. Even if her feelings would have been hurt, he should have refused her in no uncertain terms, but he hadn’t. He promised himself that he would if it happened again.
Erienne’s suggestion that Alec sell crossbow bolts turned out to be valuable. Alec had decided that as long as he sold them through an intermediary it would be unlikely that anyone would trace them back to a disowned prince and an exiled Royal Archer. During the dimming just past, he had taken several to the market, found the elderly grandmother who sold flowers and asked if she would offer them for sale in return for a portion of the profit. When she agreed, he sat down with the girl and explained how exacting he was when he made the shafts, and that the fletching was all done by hand.
“Customers can order feathers in a wide variety of colors or with lightweight wood,” Alec explained. “Personally, I prefer feathers, but I can just as easily fletch them with wood if the customer desires that.”
The girl moved her eyes from the crossbow quarrels to his eyes, her face serious, and responded, “We’ll charge a fee for custom orders.”
Once he helped the girl and the grandmother rearrange their flowers to create a display for the new merchandise, Alec sighed and turned to leave. As he did, a gentleman asked after the quarrels, so Alec paused to listen for a moment while the girl expertly explained their distinctive features. The girl sold the man half a dozen quarrels and his wife a bouquet. Two days later, she appeared at the inn’s front desk to ask Craig if he would let Mr. Holdingfree know that they were out of crossbow bolts and ask if he would mind bringing them more to sell.
The day the job moving stones was complete Alec had the chance to deliver that second order to the market and shop for Jon, before returning home early. As he climbed the stairs he thought about how much Erienne made his days easier. In the short time she had been there he’d noticed a vast difference in what he was able to accomplish and in his own overall energy. He had always been so busy with the endless tasks related to caring for Jon that he had no time to himself, no time to regain his internal balance, no time to work, no time to look ahead and try to construct a plan for their future. In all honesty, Alec did not believe Jon would ever be able to earn his own way because of his injuries. A strategy for the future was essential.
Alec paused at the door of the attic room to clear away his worried thoughts. He set down the bundle of purchases in his arms and clutched the doorknob. Before he could turn the handle, however, he heard the low guttural sounds of satisfaction coming from inside the room. He’d heard that reaction from Jon often enough times when the two of them were together. Since the injuries Jon sustained during the ambush were so serious, Alec had waited. He’d held Jon often, especially after nightmares, and he’d made certain to hold hands and do other, simple things to demonstrate his affection. But he had thought it important to wait for some sign that Jon was well, healthy enough, and ready for more than that.
Alec pressed his hands on each side of the door jamb and rested his forehead against the door. He squeezed his eyes tightly, trying to stave off tears. After several seconds, he lifted his head, rubbed his eyes, and walked down the stairs to the pub where he asked Craig for an ale. He nursed the drink for an hour, and then requested another.
By the time Alec climbed the stairs again, gathered up the packages he’d left by the door, and entered the attic room, Erienne was stretched out in her own cot. Although she was pretending to be asleep, Alec could tell that she was not, and he was angry that she ignored Jon tossing and crying out from nightmares. Fia whined as she sat on the floor beside Jon’s bed with one paw on its edge. Rather than speak to Erienne, Alec patted Fia’s head as he slid into Jon’s bed, enclosed Jon in his arms, and softly cooed, “Hush. It’s okay. Hush.”
THE CASTLE IN HILLTOWN
A dimming after these events in SnakeIn, Prince Seán wandered through what had been Jon’s private apartments in Hilltown, uneasy about how still the room was, how empty without Jon. He paused every few meters to examine various weapons in Jon’s significant collection: a set of swords and scabbards, a halberd and poleaxe crossed and mounted on a wall, a handful of nicked and dented quarterstaffs leaning in a corner, a dozen longbows and arrows. He came to a complete stop in front of what had been Jon’s favorite portion of his collection: row after row of crossbows, some elegant, some sturdy, some roughhewn. Seán ran a fingertip along the engraved design in the crossbow that had always been his own personal favorite.
Seán turned from the bows. Walking hesitantly to the door of Jon’s bedroom, he pushed it open, and then stood in the doorway holding the handle. Moonflowers vined lushly in the two oriel windows. Vases to hold flowers were displayed around the room, all standing empty now. Jon’s art collection rivaled his collection of weapons although few had ever seen it because of its sensual nature. Seán giggled, recalling the many times he had tiptoed into the room when he knew Jon was at sparring practice or math class or somewhere that would keep him occupied for a while. Seán loved the painting with an uncountable number of entwined bodies and had often tried to trace which leg and which arm matched which torso. Seán shook away his thoughts as his eyes settled on a withered bouquet of wildflowers resting beside a single, inexpertly crafted bolt with white and blue fletching displayed in a place of honor near Jon’s bed. Seán remembered Jon’s friend laboring over it, but he had never understood why Jon had taken it when his friend was talking with Archery Master Quinn and then kept it now that Alec Mulrian is a much better fletcher. Was, Seán thought. Was. He sighed. If it were up to Seán, this bolt would have been out with the other bolts and weapons so it could be used. If there were some reason Jon had wanted one by his bed, Seán knew that all he would have had to do was ask Mulrian and the Royal Archer would have given him one. No one refused the princes.
Seán closed the bedroom door. Returning to the empty engraved bow, he lifted it against his shoulder and aimed at various targets through the room: the inkwell on the desk by the window, the handful of quarterstaffs, the sketch of the five princes which hung on the back of the entryway door.
“Thwack,” he cried out as he pretended to shoot.
The door flung open. Prince Gunnar sauntered into the room and said, chuckling, “Thwack yourself, Seán. What are you doing with Jon’s things? Ogling his art collection again?”
“I’m just looking,” Seán replied defensively. “Being here with all of his things lets me believe that Jon is still alive, that he’s only out sparring and will walk through the door any minute.”
“He’s dead. You should be happy about it, not sulking around in corners, doing whatever in front of his art,” Gunnar said, still snickering. “We’re next in line for the throne.”
“I miss Jon,” Seán said as he sniffed to keep tears away. “And I wasn’t doing whatever.” “You’re so stupidly young,” Gunnar said to torment his sibling. When Gunnar saw tears roll from the corner of Seán’s eyes, he changed to a more conciliatory tone. “We all miss him. If you ask, I’m sure our father would give you this entire collection.” As Seán replaced the crossbow, Gunnar continued, “Listen, I’m going to look at a new style of bow that has just come out. A couple of traveling merchants have a stand set up at the market. I need some bolts and things anyway. Why don’t you come along? You can help me carry whatever I buy.”
Seán looked at Gunnar sadly but didn’t respond.
“Listen, though,” Gunnar said, lowering his voice and leaning forward to include Seán in his confidence. “These merchants are shy. We’ll have to go on our own without telling the guards or the Grays. I’ll arm myself well and make sure that there’s no trouble.”
Seán tipped his head at his older brother inquisitively.
“If I do buy a new bow, I’ll let you have one of my old ones,” Gunnar tempted. “The blue one that belonged to our father’s father.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Seán protested. “I’ll come. I might as well. Maybe it will cheer me up for a while.”
“Yeah, a quick change of scenery always helps,” Gunnar agreed. “And it’s something to occupy your mind for a bit.” He walked over to Seán, draped an arm over his shoulder, and derided, “Beside Jon’s art collection.”
©2022 Vera S. Scott