HONOR BOUND (The Spare Heir) (17 page)

Realizing he was rapidly losing control of his emotions, Jorem stood and walked away from Vern and Jessie. He had not meant to get angry.  These people had every reason to be upset with his family.  The very people that were supposed to be protecting them had attacked one of their own.  It was a good bet that this scene would replay itself many times in the coming weeks.  He had best learn to deal with it now as later.

Still facing away from the shopkeepers, Jorem took a deep breath.  His fists were clenched tightly at his side.  Closing his eyes, he opened his fists and forced himself to relax.  Slowly exhaling, Jorem turned to face his latest challenge.  When he turned around he could see his reaction had shocked both Jessie and Vern.  In a way it was almost humorous.  It appeared that they had just realized that they had insulted a prince.  Not to mention that, they had cast doubt on the King’s honor.  Jorem couldn’t even imagine what would have happened if they had acted this way with one of his brothers.

Back in control of himself, Jorem sighed. “I’m sorry.  I should be used to what people say about me by now.  It has been a very long week.  But that is a poor excuse for losing my temper.”  Walking back over to the chair, Jorem picked up his wet shoes. “These boots will do fine.  I should buy a few extra pairs of thick socks as well.”

Focused back on his business, the shoemaker pointed to the shoes in Jorem’s hand.  “I’ve some cream that will keep those from stiffening when they dry.”

Jorem smiled at the man’s concern for a pair of shoes.  As he reached for his money pouch Jorem ask, “How much do I owe you for all of this?”

“I can send the bill to the Duke if you would like, sire,” Vern replied.

Jorem stood motionless for a moment peering into the pouch.  He could accept the shoemaker’s offer, but somehow it didn’t feel right.  He wasn’t here to be treated like royalty.  He was here to do a job and maybe, just maybe, repair the family honor.  Fishing around in the money pouch, he located the coins he was searching for.  From what Biorne had said, two silver marks was a lot, but it felt right.

“First off, ”Jorem said, “my name is Jorem, not sire.  Secondly, a friend of mine once told me that a craftsman should always be paid his worth.”  Looking each of the shopkeepers in the eyes and handing a silver mark to each, Jorem continued.  “I understand that there are a number of less fortunate people in the area that could use a good coat and a pair of warm shoes.  I would like you to use this to cover my purchases and to provide as many of these people with coats and shoes as you can.”

Both Vern and Jessie had bewildered looks on their faces.  Apparently this was not what they had expected of him.  While the shopkeepers were trying to decide how to react to his generosity, Jorem slipped on his new cloak and gloves.  The other items fit easily into the pockets of the cloak.  Vern and Jessie were still looking at the coins and each other as Jorem stepped out the door of the shop.

Chapter XVIII

When Jorem stepped out onto the walkway he saw that the snow was still coming down.  Idly, he began wandering up and down the streets.  There were buildings of similar design on both sides of the street.  Mostly the buildings were the same as the one that held the coat and shoemakers shops, wooden structures painted a variety of colors.  Some were two stories, though most were single level.  The signs above the doors of the buildings gave a general idea of the services that were offered inside.  A few of the signs had words on them, but most of them just had colorful pictures of what could be found within.

Jorem hadn’t gone far when the aroma of freshly baked bread caught his attention.  Following the savory smell, he found himself standing at the door of a bakery.  Testing the door, Jorem found that it was open.  As he stepped inside he heard the jangling of the bell that was attached to the door.  The aroma that encompassed him was so rich that it set his mouth to watering.  His stomach growled in response, as if to demand a taste of what he could smell.

Looking about, Jorem was surprised to find that the room he had entered was quite small.  Equally surprising was that he didn’t see any of the food that he could smell.  The sidewalls were lined with rows of shelves obviously meant for displaying something.  In front of the back wall was a large glass counter.  All of it was empty.  It looked as if someone had meticulously cleaned the entire room, for there wasn’t even a crumb of bread to be seen.

Jorem was just about to turn and leave when a girl slightly younger than he appeared through a door behind the counter.  When she looked up and saw him her eyes went round with surprise and she turned and fled the way she had come.  A moment later a large balding man appeared.  A fringe of short, brown hair framed a round, pudgy face that matched the man’s rounded body.  He had a stern expression, but the pink, flowery apron he wore kept him from being very intimidating.  He put hands that were covered with flour on the counter and his round belly pressed against the glass as he leaned forward.

“How may I help you, young man?” the man asked in a high, soft voice.

Jorem could tell the man was trying to be serious, but even through the stern expression he looked kind and friendly.  By the look of him, Jorem doubted the man had a mean bone in his body.  From the corner of his eye, Jorem could see the young girl peering through the doorway.  From the color of her hair and the shape of her eyes, Jorem guessed she was the daughter of the man at the counter.  Unlike her father, she was rail thin and very petite.

“I couldn’t help but notice the wonderful smell coming from your shop,” Jorem explained.  “The door wasn’t locked, so I thought you were open.”

In spite of himself the man smiled at Jorem.  “The Book of One teaches that a locked door welcomes no man.  Although my door is not locked, I do not sell on Firstday.”  At the look of confusion on Jorem’s face, he continued.  “Many choose not to cook on Firstday.  For them I cook meals and keep the food warm until they are ready to eat.”

Disappointed, Jorem nodded in understanding.  “Is there someplace close were I could buy a meal?” he asked.

“You are not from around here then?” the man asked.

“I’m just passing through,” Jorem temporized.

“With this weather?” The man asked.  “You will be staying longer than you think. The places to eat that are good are too far away.  Wait for a moment and I will make for you a sandwich.”

Without waiting for a response, the big man bustled back through the door behind the counter.  The man had turned and gone so quickly that Jorem hadn’t even had a chance to protest.  He stood in the small room unsure of what to do. Muffled sounds of someone moving about came through the door.  Then the young girl poked her head through the door.  She stepped up to the counter shyly and looked across it at Jorem.

“Hi,” she said. “My name is Cassy.”

Jorem hesitated for a moment.  Going around blurting out his name didn’t sound like keeping a low profile.  There was no reason why he should give his full name.  Borrowing a trick from the guardsman Jacobs, he decided to be someone else for a while.  Jorem smiled back at Cassy and stepped closer to the counter.  He should have thought of this before.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cassy.” Jorem said.  “My name is Rim.”

Rim was just a shortened version of his real name.  In fact, Pentrothe often called him Rim during lessons.  If anyone asked if he were Prince Jorem he could easily brush it off by saying that his friends called him Rim.  After all, he did consider Pentrothe a friend and this way he could get to know people without them treating him differently because he was the son of the King.

“My Da’s the Baker,” Cassy said.  “You said you’re not from around here. So where are you from?”

Her voice was light and musical.  Her dark brown hair was cut so that it just brushed the tops of her shoulders.  The delicate features of her face reminded Jorem of a porcelain doll he had once seen.  The only blemish of her near perfect complexion was the sprinkling of freckles across her nose.  Actually the freckles made her even prettier than she would have been without them.

“I’m from south of here, down in the valley.”  Jorem said.  No point in being too specific.

Cassy’s eyes got big when she heard his answer.  “Do you live near Capital city?”

“Near there, yes,” Jorem said, while thinking, “A
fter all, the center is about as close as you can get.”

“Have you ever seen the King?”  Cassy ask excitedly.  “And the princes, have you seen the princes?  My grandpa used to tell me stories about the King when I was little. He said the King was the greatest man he’d ever met, and he said the palace was the grandest building he’d ever seen.  I’ve always wanted to meet one of the princes.  They must be so handsome and brave.  What do they look like?”

Jorem was left speechless for a moment.  He hadn’t known it was possible for a person to talk so fast.  It had all come so fast that he wasn’t sure what to say.  She spoke clearly enough, there just wasn’t a break between her words.  It had sounded like one incredibly long word.

“Do you always talk that fast?” Jorem ask with a smile.

Cassy rolled her eyes and looked at Jorem as if he were slow witted.  “Maybe you should learn to listen faster.  I bet a prince wouldn’t have any trouble understanding me.”

Jorem had to laugh at that.  “You’re probably right.  My father has always said that I’m a bit slow.”

“So, have you seen any of the princes?” Cassy ask again.

“A prince is just a boy with a title,” Jorem said, a little more seriously.  “A title he didn’t have to earn.  Yes, I’ve seen the princes and I’ve seen them make mistakes.  They are just people. No different from you or me.”

“But grandpa said King Grendith was so amazing,” Cassy said stubbornly.

“Did your grandfather know King Grendith when he was Prince Grendith?” Jorem asked.

“I… I don’t know. He never said,” Cassy said thoughtfully.

“The main difference between a prince and any other boy is that most people won’t take a prince to task when he does wrong.”  This was one of Pentrothe’s favorite subjects and Jorem knew it by heart.  “Everyone just looks the other way.  Oh, they might talk about it when they think no one can hear, but they just let it go.  If people are reluctant to teach a boy right from wrong, how will he learn?  What will happen when that same boy, or prince, does something really wrong?”

“You mean like what happened to the smith’s son, Ben.” Cassy said.  “I bet Ben started it.  Everybody knows he’s got more muscle than brains.”

“No, it wasn’t Ben’s fault.”  The incident flashed through Jorem’s mind as fresh as the night it had happened.  He could still hear the sound of bones breaking and the grunts of pain.  “Ben was protecting his sister.  What was done to him is inexcusable.  The king promised that the princes would be punished for what they did.  I think he meant it.”

“It’s really true then?  What everyone has been saying?”  Cassy sounded as though a trusted friend had betrayed her.  “But they’re princes.  Princes are supposed to be good.”

“They’re just people, Cassy, and people make mistakes,” Jorem said.  “At least the King left one of his sons to help with the blacksmith’s work.”

“Ya, the spare.”  The disdain almost dripped from Cassy’s words.  “You know what everyone says about him.  The smith will be lucky if his shop isn’t burned to the ground.”

Not reacting to the girl’s words was the hardest thing Jorem had ever done.  Cassy’s words were likely just some she had heard others speaking; that she parroted them made it all the worse.  He felt as if he had been stabbed in the chest.  It was hard to breathe. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but he knew he couldn’t. This was so unfair.  Here he was, doing the right thing, and what did he get for it?

Jorem’s mind flashed back to a scene from years ago.  A young boy burying his tear stained face into the black, silken-robed lap of a dark haired woman with emerald green eyes.  The hurt that had caused the tears was long forgotten, not so the words that came from the calm and caring voice.  “
If the right thing to do was always the easy thing to do, who then would do wrong?”
She had stroked his hair and let him cry.  When he had cried himself out she had stood him up, grasped his chin and locked eyes with him.  “
Be the one that does what is needed, not the one to cause the need!”

Luckily the baker chose that moment to bustle back into the room.  The man’s entrance saved Jorem from having to respond to Cassy’s words.  In his hands the baker carried a package wrapped in paper.  Cassy stepped to the side to allow her father to get up to the counter.  The big man had a wide grin on his face as he placed the package on the counter.  The package was nearly a half an arm length long and a full hand wide.

“Here you are young man,” the baker said as he pushed the package across the counter toward Jorem.  “That should be enough to satisfy even a starving lad such as yourself.”

“Thank you very much,” Jorem said. He busied himself untying his money pouch to give himself time to recover from Cassy’s comments.  “How much do I owe you?”

“Nay, not a thing,” the baker replied, waving off the coins Jorem offered.  “I’d not charge a stranger for a bite to eat on Firstday.”

“But…” Jorem started to protest.

“No Buts,” the baker interrupted.  “If you must make payment, do good unto another.  As the Book of One says, ‘Each is to do good unto others that all might be served.’  Now off with you, I’ve many meals yet to prepare.”

Jorem unwrapped the sandwich as he strolled along the street.  The bread was light and fluffy, almost like a pastry.  Inside, the sandwich was filled with spiced meats and cheese all coated with a tangy cream sauce.  The sandwich was so big Jorem was sure he would be carrying a portion of it back to the inn.  It was a bit of a surprise when he saw that he was popping the last bite into his mouth.  It had tasted so good he had eaten the entire thing without realizing it.

Chapter XIX

With the thick layer of clouds and the snow drifting down, it was difficult to tell what hour it was.  The western sky seemed a little brighter than the east so Jorem decided it must be well after midday.  Unlike his home, the streets here ran at odd angles.  Several times Jorem had to backtrack because the street ended without warning.  The people who lived here likely knew this and had no problem navigating their way.  For Jorem it was more than a little confusing.