Chapter 22 Auction

Even now there are whispers about experiments that don’t come together the way they should. We have all heard the screams and grunts from the underground levels of Tara Citadel when we’ve been waiting to be fed.— Prince Eater #34

Craig Docherty came upstairs the next day with an ebony cane with flames of inlaid gold encircling the wood upward from the tip until the flames intermingled with the tail of the silver phoenix at the very top. The bird’s wings were spread for flight, creating a curved space between them for Jon to hold easily, and when used as a bludgeon held near the tip, the wings became a deadly weapon.

“A gentleman left it here when he couldn’t afford his room,” Craig explained. “Instead of staying to enjoy a brew at our pub, he went out with some friends he’d met, and they robbed him. I was unhappy about it all at first, but now I see it was meant to be here for you.”

Jon grinned with delight when he discovered he could cross the room using only the cane. He was doubly excited when Alec suggested they go outdoors so he could try it on uneven ground, but then balked when he remembered that Alec would need to bear him down four flights of stairs, and afterward bring him up again.

Alec brushed off his objections and once outside, he set Jon on one of several wooden benches behind the inn. Erienne followed them and claimed a seat on one side of Jon while Fia placed herself on the ground by Jon’s other side. Alec stood nearby, a satisfied smile on his face. Kenzie, Rory, and a few of their guests stopped by to chat with Jon who greeted them all with his natural charm and seemed glad to be outdoors again. Alec rejoiced to see these improvements; however, he was still worried. The vicious red scar running down Jon’s face accented his gaunt paleness, and he wore out easily. Alec took heart that he was eating better. Jon’s teeth had firmed back into place, the raw spot on his tongue had healed, and his appetite was returning, no doubt because he was being given heartier food, although still mashed or in tiny pieces. As if she could read Alec’s mind, Kenzie disappeared into the kitchen and returned with small jars of ale for everyone and soft, bite-sized beet nut sandwiches.

It didn’t take long for Jon to grow weary, so Alec hoisted his friend in his arms, and they retreated upstairs. Erienne waited a few minutes, and then came up also. She sat beside Jon until he’d fallen asleep, and then showed Alec that she had purchased yarn and needles with her new income. Smiling, she offered to sit with Jon as she knitted if Alec wanted to go for a walk or do anything he needed to get done. As if she understood the entire discussion, Fia jumped up and waited at the door with her tail wagging happily.

Thanking Erienne for the opportunity, Alec took several coins from the purse Tom provided, fastened his bludgeon on his belt, and headed with Fia toward the wharves. It was too late in the morning to pick up any work, but he thought he might hear about opportunities for the next day. He hoped that he could get something steady. Erienne was a blessing in their lives, helping both Jon and him. He told himself that Jon had been right when he said that the four of them, including Fia, had become a bit of a family. Well, except for that one thing which he still didn’t know what to do about.

He was wrenched from his thoughts by the high-pitched scream of a young boy. Instinctively he ran in the direction of danger. He skidded to a stop in shock when he turned the corner and saw an open wagon with two corpulent men and a boy wearing ripped, finely tailored linen trousers and the remains of a soft shirt. The procurers were displaying him to the crowd before the start of an auction.

The boy was already promising to be tall. His long blond hair was badly tangled, and an entire patch was missing from the procurers using it to drag him around. The boy’s stunning blue eyes were wide with fear. The more rotund of the two men hawked loudly, “He’s still delicate and fresh. Worth a king’s ransom to your discerning clientele.”

“Leave me alone! Leave me alone!” the boy cried as he struggled to pry the men’s fists from his forearms.

Alec shook his head in disbelief: Prince Seán. They were going to sell Prince Seán to the highest bidder. He took a deep breath, flourished his bludgeon in the air, and bellowed, “You Rotten Unclaimeds. That’s my nephew. What the figg’t do you think you’re doing with my boy?”

The crowd gasped and started to yell and hiss at the auctioneers, calling out, “You stole an innocent boy!” “You’re trying to sell someone’s nephew!” “You figgict Unclaimeds.”

Although Alec wondered where the crowd thought such wares came from, he was more than willing to use their disgust to his advantage. He lowered his head and shoulders and charged toward the wagon. The men spun toward him in surprise, and then the fatter one said to the wagon’s driver, “Go, go. Shit. Go!”

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“If he’s that guy’s nephew, he sure isn’t Prince Seán,” the less obese procurer retorted unhappily. “And if he ain’t Prince Seán, he ain’t worth risking my life.”

“I told you, I bought him directly from his brother,” the fatter man objected. “The one named Gunnar.”

“I’m not Seán! I’m not,” the boy lied in desperation. “That’s my uncle. I look like Seán, and he pays me to pretend to be him sometimes when he doesn’t want to go to school, but I’m not Seán. I’m not.”

Alec reached the wagon and swung his club into the legs of the fattest man who fell sideways and back against the wagon’s driver. As the club swung up for another hit, the less obese procurer heaved Seán off the wagon. Two brothel owners standing close to the wagon raced forward and grabbed Seán to prevent him from careening face-first to the ground.

Injured when the procurer fell on him, the driver struggled to rush the wagon’s team of horses forward rather than confront Alec’s wrath. Alec stood in the dust swirling from the wagon’s wheels, scrutinizing the procurers’ retreat to verify that they were truly departing. Once satisfied, he lowered his bludgeon. He turned to gather up Seán only to discover that the two brothel owners were walking backward, forcing Seán to go with them as if they intended to keep him for themselves. Alec took two long, angry strides toward them. They swiveled around to run and found themselves pinned between Alec and a snarling wolfhound. The brothel owners glanced at each other, pushed Seán toward Alec, and then ran in separate directions so that the wolfhound couldn’t chase them both. Alec swept one arm under the boy’s knees, wrapped the other around the boy’s shoulders, and barked out, “Fia, come.”

As the three of them raced from the crowd, someone behind them announced loudly, “That’s Mulrian The Archer! The hero who saved the prince.”

Hearing cheers from the crowd and several feet pounding toward them, Alec pushed himself to run more quickly. As soon as they outdistanced the adoring followers and left the dangerous wharves behind, Alec ducked alongside a residential building and set the boy on the ground. Yanking off his own shirt, he wrapped it around the frightened, trembling boy and said, “Seán, what the figgict happened? Are you all right?"

“Gunnar tricked me,” the boy responded gasping for breath and wiping tears from his eyes. Fia moved to the boy’s side and stood leaning slightly against him.

"Take it easy," Alec said gently. He wrapped the shirt around Seán more tightly to comfort him.

“Gunnar said he was going to buy a new crossbow and that I could have our grandfather’s blue one," the boy explained. "Instead, that man gave him money for me, and Gunnar helped tie me up. Gunnar thought it was funny when I started crying. I was so frightened I couldn’t help it. He kept laughing at me anyway.” Seán looked at Alec intensely and added, “I know you, don’t I? You’re Jon’s friend, the archer.”

“I am, yes,” Alec reassured him.

Seán sniffled and said, “Are you going to keep me safe, Captain Mulrian?”

“Yes, you’re safe now. Call me Alec. I’m not a Royal Archer anymore. Not that it matters, but I was only a Corporal.”

“No, they made you a captain because you helped Jon. I overheard my father talking with the commander of his soldiers and Captain Brady. The commander argued Jon is dead, but then they also said that Jon was your duty. They decided to pay you more money because what you’re doing is dangerous.”

Alec shook his head but didn’t argue with the crying boy. Instead, he lifted Seán up again saying comfortingly, “Let’s get you home. Jon will be happy to see you.”

“He didn’t die?” the boy questioned between tears. “Jon is alive?”

“Very much so,” Alec responded. “He and I are married. My duty to him is because he’s my partner and my friend. I owe him my fealty and my life because I love him, not because anyone ordered me to or promised to pay me more. I can’t return to Hilltown, so paying me more is an empty gesture. Listen, this is important, if anyone asks, tell them that your name is Seán Holdingfree. Don’t tell anyone you’re a prince. It isn’t safe.”

“Those men wanted to hurt me,” Seán confessed, his voice shaking.

“That’s exactly what I mean. Let’s hurry and get home. Come Fia,” Alec said as he broke into a run again. Fia watched them for a moment and then loped after them.

©2022 Vera S. Scott