| View Blog
|
|
|
|
| Feedback Please - Chapter One |
Chapter 1
Sara felt the knots in the muscles of his lower back give way beneath her experienced hands and heard the sigh as he relaxed further into the furs lying soft upon the stone bench.
She worked long and hard on his thighs and calves, marvelling at the smooth skin where the constant contact with linens and leather saddles had removed all the fine, almost invisible blonde hairs that covered the rest of his muscular body.
Moving up to kneed the heavy muscles of his arms and shoulders, she felt rather than heard the gentle snore that demonstrated the state of deep relaxation he had slipped into. And as she continued to work on the muscles in his back, arms and neck, he slept the sleep of one who feels truly safe and secure. A state he rarely achieved and one that came only in the presence of this quiet and capable woman.
Sara finished the deep massage with gentle fingers rubbing away the tension under his short cropped hair, across his forehead and around his rugged jaw line.
Covering him with a soft blanket that lay warming by the fire, she bent to murmur something almost imperceptible into his ear and threw a handful of sweet smelling herbs into the gently bubbling kettle of water that hung over the fire.
“Mama?” the child lying quietly in the corner said in barely a whisper.
“Come little one.” Sara whispered back, “I am finished, come to me.”
She watched as he stood on the opposite side of the room, steadying himself against the wall, then the hesitant steps as he traversed the room, reaching out every now and then to make contact with the wall, to establish his place.
Sara had been aware of his blindness shortly after his birth and had been horrified when a couple of weeks later she had seen the awareness in her husbands eyes and the determination on his face.
“You’ll have to get rid of it.” He’d said with no show of emotion.
“I’ll have no child of mine being seen as a weakling. He’ll be a target for every one of my enemies. I won’t have it.”
When she had protested, he had simply replied. “See, it starts already. You are focused on the child and not where your duties should be, with me. Get rid of it. That’s an order.”
Her husband had never been a loving man, but as Captain of the Guards for a powerful lord, he had looked after her well and she had lived a life of comfort as a companion to the lady of the keep. Sara had never wanted for anything, but as she dressed in comfortable boots, picked up the small pack that she could carry with ease on her back and tied the sling with the baby in it around her shoulder, she knew she was making the right move. She chose a time when the lord and her husband would be gone for a number of days and leaving the keep she wandered through the town to confuse her scent before joining a caravan of wanderers and minstrels heading out into the countryside.
Sara had stayed with the wanderers for a number of months learning the trade of masseuse under the expert tutelage of an ancient Geordie and earning her keep many times over, before the advances and questions of one of the leading hands had become too difficult to manage. In a port city she had taken the babe and the best wishes of the old man and jumped aboard a vessel heading north.
The touch of her child’s hand upon her knee startled her out of her memories and she picked him up, placing him on her lap. His hands reached out to touch her face, tracing the familiar contours of her eyes, cheeks and chin before trailing down her neck to rest where he could feel her heartbeat.
“Sit here little one, we will watch over our laird whilst he is sleeping.” She said quietly.
“Will you tell me a story Mama? Will you please?”
It was a constant request and one she never tired of hearing.
Sara glanced at the man lying sleeping and pulled the child closer, resting his head on her chest so he could hear her no matter how low she spoke.
“There was once a boy,” she started.
“Was he blind Mama?”
“Yes, he was blind, and he lived in a keep in the highlands.”
“Just like me, Mama?”
“Yes child, just like you.”
“Tell me about him Mama, did he ….”
“How about I tell the story, and at the end you can ask the questions, okay?”
“Okay,” he settled back with a sigh.
“It was the first day of the new year in his seventh year, his naming day. All the other seven year old boys in the keep were excited and eager to discover their secret name and the name by which they would be known for the rest of their life. This child was quiet and nervous. A name had such power and could determine a person’s fate, so for one who already knew fate had dealt him a tough life he was a little concerned. His mother knew how he must be feeling and thought to distract her little one before the ordeal. So, she packed a picnic and took him out through the gates of the keep and into the meadows in the valley. There she watched him as he ran around in the snow, not frightened of bumping into things. She played games with him, moving and calling his name until he caught her. Being very quiet and asking him to tell her what he could hear, smell and identify, and describing everything, as well as she could, until he saw the beauty of the valley through her eyes.
She called a horse up and let him feed it an apple, before touching and stroking the magnificent beast. Then she lifted him onto the horse and let him feel the ripple of the muscles beneath its skin and the warmth from its broad back. As the sun moved behind the mountains and the air grew colder still she led him back to the keep and his naming day celebrations.
The children stood in a line in the central courtyard of the keep and his mother led him to the end of the line where he stood quietly amongst his more boisterous peers.
A hush came over the crowd as the old seer, who lived in the uppermost tower of the keep, and the lord of the keep, came forward to stand before the first child in the line.
The lord spoke. “Today and from this day forward every boy child here will have a man’s name. Every boy child here will have a man’s responsibilities, and every boy child here will have a man’s secrets to carry unto the grave.” He paused for effect and to let the importance of his words sink in.
“A man’s true name is magic so strong that in some ways we would be better off foregoing the knowledge. A man’s true name makes him strong and sure, but in the wrong hands it can kill. Guard your true name above all else and live up to your true name by using wisely and well the everyday name, the adult name you will be known by henceforth.”
The lord stepped aside and the seer came forward. Placing his hands on the shoulders of the boy in front of him the seer whispered in his ear, as the child nodded his head the seer spoke in a booming voice that belied his stooped and elderly frame.
“This child shall be known as Garin, ‘One who leads’,” he said.
And so it went on down the line, Fendin, Horvell, Jaquan, Kiarien, Lothair, until finally the seer stood in front of the little boy who was blind.
The seer placed his hands on the child and then drew back with an intake of breath. Reaching forward he took the shoulders again and held tight, bending down so his breath tickled the boys ear.
“You’re true name is Aritharendel, it means Place where Swallows meet, and is a name of incredible power and beauty. Do you understand?”
The child nodded. Then the seer stood with one hand on the head of the child and facing the crowd said “This child shall be known as Saren, ‘One who sees’”.”
A sharp intake of breath from the child sitting on her knees bought a smile to her face.
“Do you want me to go on?” she asked in a whisper.
“Yes please.” The deep reply came from the man laying on the furs a matter of feet from them. Sara looked up and into his deep blue eyes.
“Oh, my laird, I’m so sorry, I did not mean to wake you.” She apologised getting to her feet and depositing the child on the chair.
“I can not think of a better way to sleep or to wake,” he stated smiling and stretching.
“However, I think you had better pass me my clothes and I should rejoin the bedlam that exists outside these four walls.” His voice held a note of regret as he looked around at the calm tasteful room.
“But I shall hate to miss the rest of the story.” He squatted down in front of the child and picking up one his hands placed the palm on his face.
“Do you think you could wait until bedtime for the rest of the story and I shall return to hear the next chapter with you?”
The child gently reached out with his other hand, tracing the face of this man whose voice he knew so well, but who had never spoken directly to him, or acknowledged his way of seeing before.
“I should be honoured my laird,” he replied, feeling the smile that arched the man’s lips and raised his cheeks.
“The it’s a date, and you young sir should listen where your mother will not and call me Gareth when it is only us three, for I think you and I shall be friends.”
Before the child or young mother had time to protest, the lord had pulled on his breaches and boots and was out of the room. They could hear his voice from the corridor as he called for a mug of mead and a log to be added to the fire in the hall.
|
|
Posted by Keep_Left on 2009-08-19 05:36:51 | Rating: | Views: 35
|
|
| |
|
|