Barrett The Beggar - 2. A Refuge

The bath was located at an inn. The shingle over the door proclaimed it to be The Boar’s Head. Will puzzled at the symbol: a boar’s head issuant, he thought. I’ve seen that before, somewhere. To the right of the main door, a smaller door leading to the bath opened. Will and Barrett were enveloped in a cloud of steam and eucalyptus and warmth that quickly dissipated in the cold air. Will forgot his curiosity about the boar’s head and tugged Barrett’s hand, leading the boy inside.

The bath attendant turned up his nose and snorted his disdain. He was immediately sorry, for Barrett was not only dirty, he and his clothes stank. Before the boy could open his mouth, Will held up a penny. The attendant glared, but by custom, he could not refuse. “Be sure you are clean before you enter the hot soak,” he said.

Will replied, “Please do not worry. We’ll not dirty the bath.”

“Thank you, again,” Barrett said. He carefully removed layer after layer of rags. “I have no boy magic to clean you, but I’m strong, and can use a brush and loofa.” Barrett’s gauntness was amplified by boyish gawkiness. Will cringed to think that anyone in Arcadia could be as hungry as Barrett must be.

“You are welcome,” Will said. “Let me clean you, first, please.”

The boy was agreeable, and stood under the shower. Will deluged them with warm water. Starting with the boy’s hair, Will scrubbed him to the tips of his toes, pulling dirt from the pores of his skin, around the roots of his hair, and under his finger- and toenails. Barrett obviously enjoyed being cleaned.

“Looks as if you’ve not shared in a long time,” Will said. The boy had lost control, and was erect.

“No,” Barrett gasped, “I haven’t…please…now—”

“Not until I’m clean,” Will said, “you said—”

The boy grabbed the brush in his right hand and the loofa in his left. As if to take his mind off his own desire, he attacked the older boy’s skin with both instruments.

The beggar boy’s dirt had been deeply ingrained. By comparison, Will’s dirt was new. He’d taken it from a puddle the previous night’s rain had left in a rut on the verge of the road. The beggar boy’s dirt had been gray. Will’s dirt was red from the limestone that had disintegrated to make the clay on which this town and the surrounding farms were built. The boy scrubbed Will, leaving the older boy’s skin glowing.

Will dried himself, and then turned to Barrett. The older boy held his hands a few inches from Barrett’s head, and then lowered them slowly, drawing an invisible strigil across Barrett’s skin, wiping off the water. At the same time, Will hummed, and blended the vibrations of his vocal cords into the magic, so that Barrett’s skin tingled.

“Oh, oh, oh,” the boy gasped. Will knelt to take his magic.

Barrett was less skilled than most boys, but he was enthusiastic, and Will found giving himself to Barrett to be very satisfactory. Afterwards, they washed their clothes in a tub of soapy water. Will watched closely. The boy was parsimonious in his use of the magic he’d received from Will, and controlled it carefully.

After they’d donned their clothes, Will said, “Barrett, I enjoyed sharing with you, and I would like your company for a while longer. I have more than a penny for bread. I have thruppence that will buy us bread and cheese and ale. Will you come to supper with me?”

“Will,” the boy said, quietly. “That’s not the only lie you told me. You weren’t really dirty. The blanket that wraps your sword is new, and clean. You overlooked that, didn’t you? You spin tales that are unbelievable and you claim to be a prince. I don’t believe you, even though I know your sword is magical. Who are you, really?”

“One who will not harm you,” Will replied. “And who will ask nothing untoward of you. And, my name really is Will. Do you believe that?”

The boy nodded thoughtfully. “That will do, for now. But if you tell another lie I will leave, hungry if need be.”

“I will not lie to you,” Will said.

Will did not blame the publican for asking to see the thruppence before he would feed the two boys. Even after the bath, he and Barrett were not a picture of prosperity. Their clothes, although clean, were still plain and worn. Barrett bore the marks of long-time deprivation. Nowhere did his body show spare flesh or fat, and his dark brown eyes were sunken into his face.

Will was slender, but not gaunt. He appeared to be strong, but was not muscular. Clean, Will’s red-gold hair caught light from the oil lamps and the fire. The static from Barrett’s vigorous toweling made Will’s hair swirl around his face in the dry autumn air. Will knew that it would crackle for a while, giving up its mysterious energy, before it would lie straight. Barrett seemed fascinated by Will’s hair; his eyes turned toward it, pulled by the force of the static.

Barrett chewed each bite thoroughly, and despite his obvious hunger, did not eat quickly. The boy seemed to understand Will’s thoughts, and explained between bites. “I ate too fast once. My stomach rebelled, and I lost all I had eaten against the wall of the alley. That was a hard lesson. I’d been hungry for nearly a tenday. Afterwards, I was hungry for two more days. Are you going to eat that apple?”

Will shook his head and pushed the apple toward the boy.

“You’ve never been hungry, have you?” Barrett asked.

Will remembered that he’d promised not to lie to the boy, and answered, “No. Not really. Not like you have been. When I was a boy, I thought I was hungry if supper were not served by sunset, or if I did not eat lunch because of play. I’ve missed a few meals since I started wandering, but no, I’ve never really been hungry.”

“Well,” the boy said after swallowing a bite of the apple, “don’t go hungry because other people are hungry. It won’t help them, and it won’t help you.”

Will started. “That’s a strange thing to say,” he said. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s what they’re saying—the clerics, that is—” Barrett began. “They’re saying that we all have to sacrifice…that everyone has to tighten his belt…then they collect food and money to buy food. They say it’s to give to those who don’t have any. But that doesn’t include me. I went to ask. They chased me away…I don’t have a belt to tighten, either, but I was afraid to ask them for that.”

Will slowly chewed the last crust of bread while he thought. The farms I passed…they all seemed prosperous…stooks of wheat in the fields…wagons being loaded with root vegetables…goats and sheep grazing the stubble…fodder gathered…why, then, would the city be short of food? And why would the temple actively be seeking supplies? They’re supposed to be self-supporting. Every temple has a farm, a glebe.

“What about the glebe?” Will mused, more to himself than to Barrett.

“They stopped growing food at the glebe a couple of years ago,” Barrett answered. “They won’t let anyone but clerics go there, now. It used to be I could do a day’s work and get bread for a tenday. No more.”

Will nodded his understanding, and then shook his head to push those thoughts away, returning his attention to Barrett. The boy had finished his meal, leaving nothing on his plate except the stem and seeds of the apple.

Barrett stood. “Thank you for your kindness and for sharing. I must find a place to hide, a place to sleep. And quickly. So must you.”

“Wait, please,” Will said, taking the boy’s hand briefly in his own. He stood, and walked to the bar behind which the publican stood. After a brief conversation, he returned to the table.

“In return for mucking out the stable tomorrow, the publican will allow us to sleep in the loft. It will be cold, but not as cold as the alley. You need not accept; I can clean the stable by myself. But, I would be glad of your company.”

Barrett thought for a moment. “Thank you. I would like that. And I told you I was strong. I will help clean.”

Will began to untie the rope that held the blanket around his sword. “But won’t the sword’s light bring danger?” Barrett asked.

“The sword glows only when drawn in combat,” Will said. “And even then only if I don’t control it. I was angry. I acted in haste, and I was foolish,” he concluded.

“Angry?” Barrett whispered.

“I’d seen those three boys earlier,” Will answered. “They were tormenting a sailor who had a hook for a hand. That made me angry. The people in the street who saw it and who didn’t help; they made me angry. What happened to Zan; that made me angry.”

Barrett hugged the older boy tightly. “Please put away your anger, and share yourself with me again.”

*****

The sun had barely broken the horizon when the publican opened the kitchen door to throw a pan of scraps into the chicken coop. The stable doors stood wide open. Setting the pan on the stoop, he walked across the yard. At the doorway of the stable, the publican stopped. His face lit with amazement. The stone floor was bare. Will and Barrett were sweeping the last of the old straw and dung into the waste-hole.

“I misjudged you, lad,” the publican said. “Guessed you’d slip away at first light.”

“But you agreed to let us sleep here, anyway,” Will said, his eyebrows rising slightly in question.

“Guessed you’d do no harm,” the man replied. “And it didn’t cost me anything.”

The man looked around, shaking his head in wonder. “Put fresh straw on the floor; put hay in the mangers. Then bathe. No cost. I’ll tell Kerry, the bath attendant. He’s my son. Then, come into the kitchen for breakfast. You’ve more than earned it.”

Kerry, the same boy who had taken Will’s penny the day before, welcomed them to the bath. “Dad said you were guests. I’m sorry I wasn’t pleasant yesterday. I should know better than to assume—” His voice trailed off.

Will looked at Barrett.

Barrett caught Will’s eye. Something he saw told him he was about to be judged. He turned to Kerry. “I…we are no more than what you see. Beggars. Yesterday, we were filthy beggars. Today, we are still beggars. A little cleaner,” he said, and then giggled. “At least we were before we swept out the barn.”

“You swept the barn?” Kerry asked, startled. “That was to have been my task—”

This time, Will answered. “Your father was kind to give us that task in return for a night in the hayloft. This morning, he extended his kindness to a bath and breakfast.”

It was well past tierce when Will and Barrett, freshly bathed, finished their breakfast. The publican had served the last of his guests, and the common room was empty save for him and the two boys. The man sat down at the table across from them. “I’ve seen you before,” he said, looking at Barrett. “You’re a stranger,” he continued, looking at Will. Before Will could answer, the man surprised him by adding, “You have a depth of honor that is uncommon in these days.”

“Because we didn’t leave before cleaning the stable?” Will said. “I hardly think that is a mark of deep honor.”

The publican laughed heartily, and Will flushed. “No, no,” the man said. “I’m not thinking of that…although many would have slipped away without working. No, two stories were told in the common room last night after you left. I did not make the connection until this morning when you came in for breakfast.”

Will’s brow furrowed. The publican continued. “Yesterday in the street, a beggar offered a penny to another beggar. The first carried a blanket in a roll over his shoulder; the second was an old sailor who had a hook for a hand.

“Later that day, two of our young dandies came to a healer with a story of a beggar who defended a boy. That beggar had no blanket, but a sword. Your blanket stands too stiffly against the wall. Unless, of course, it is wrapped around a sword.

“You are the beggar who was kind to the sailor with the hook, and who defended the boy. This boy, in fact.” The publican crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair, tipping its front legs off the floor. He looked at Will, and raised his eyebrows.

That was a deliberate move, flashed through Will’s mind. He’s showing me that his hands are empty. He’s in an awkward position and could not easily attack me, even if he had a weapon. Can I trust him? Can I nottrust him?

“The blanket does conceal a sword. It was I who encountered the sailor and found a companion in Barrett, here,” Will began. “What more did the injured boys say about me? Are they likely to seek me out? Would they come here? I would not put you and your family in danger.”

“No, no” the publican replied. “The Boar’s Head lies off the paths trod by that moiety. The descriptions of you are confused enough that none of my custom will make the link. You are safe here, unless you have more to tell?” The man’s voice rose, inflecting his words into a question.

Will looked around. He, Barrett, and the publican were the only ones in the common room. “I have been traveling…searching,” he continued. “I’ve found that if I wear my sword, it attracts unwanted attention, challenges that I’d rather avoid. So, I hid the sword.”

“True enough,” the publican said, still leaning back in the chair. “But not enough of the truth. You are more than a tween with the wanderlust.”

Will thought frantically. He’s a Sembler! How could I have not seen!

“However, that will do for now,” the publican said, returning the front legs of his chair to the floor. “I’ve two sons in the Army, one in the temple in Arcadia, and one,” the man’s voice hardened. “One son was impressed by the black ships. I need help if I’m to continue operating the inn and bath and stable, and provide for my wife and remaining son…and the baby that my wife will soon bear. You’ve shown that you are honorable. Will your wanderlust let you remain here to tend the stable and help in the kitchen in return for bed, bath, and board?”

Will looked at Barrett, and then the publican. “I have taken this boy’s home from him, and am under obligation. Would you have a place for him, too?”

The publican nodded. “Of course, if he were willing to work?”

Barrett nodded. “Yes, please.”

“The inn is never full,” the publican said. “Fewer people travel these days, and those who do have little money to spend. This room will be yours.”

Pointing to a chest in the corner of the room, he continued. “You’ll need different clothes. In the chest you’ll find things that belonged to my sons. Take what you need. Shoes, too,” he said, smiling at Barrett. “Bare feet will not do, when winter comes.”

Barrett watched Will carry heavy bales of hay and straw to the loft over the stable. “They’re too heavy for you, little one,” Will had said. At first, Barrett had bristled at Will’s calling him, little one, but Will said it so gently, and with such a smile, that Barrett realized the older boy meant the appellation in a kindly way.

Both boys’ skin tingled from scrubbing. They had made short shrift of the hot soak, but had hurried back to their room. Their sharing had been urgent, but no less satisfactory. Afterwards, Barrett lay cuddled in Will’s arms. He cast his mind back, searching memories, but could not find a time when he felt so comfortable or safe. Without knowing the reason, he sat up and began to speak.

“My mother was a courtesan. She lived in a small house near the docks. One sailor was her favorite. She thought that he would give up the sea if she gave him a son. So she conceived me. She did not want me; she wanted him. He liked her, but he liked the sea, better, and wasn’t interested in a family. One day, she protested. He killed her. I had heard their voices raised in anger, and was watching from the top of the stairs. I ran back to my room and then out the window before he could kill me, too. I’ve lived on the street ever since.”

In the darkness, and guided only by the boy’s voice, Will reached out to Barrett. Pulling the smaller boy into his arms, Will kissed the top of his head where the boy’s hair had grown back in. It was soft and luxurious, and smelled of the bath soap. “On my oath, Barrett, if it is within my power, you will not live on the street again.”

Will did not know, then, how his resolve would be tested.

*****

Winter solstice approached; the days grew shorter. Will and Barrett fit in easily with the routine at The Boar’s Head.

Will took over Kerry’s responsibilities in the stable. Besides the inn and bath, Edward operated a livery stable. Even when the number of guests was light, keeping the stable was demanding work. Will showed extraordinary skill with the horses and seemed to enjoy the labor.

Barrett became adept at serving the tankards of ale, trenchers of stew, and baskets of bread that were the inn’s staples. The boy’s quick service, and the smile that flashed whenever he was complimented, earned him several farthings each night. He had offered these to the publican, who had refused them.

“These are yours, Little One,” Edward said. He frowned. “I have heard Will call you that; the name is not mine to use. Please forgive me, Barrett.”

Barrett nodded, although he didn’t understand.

“Will,” Barrett began, “Master Edward called me little one, and then apologized for doing so, saying it was not his name to use. Please, I do not understand.”

“Hmmm,” Will said. “He knows that I call you Little One, but he believes he cannot.” Memories flashed through Will’s mind. “I think it is this. Master Edward believes that I named you thus when we swore brotherhood. Therefore it is a name only I may use.”

“I don’t understand,” Barrett said. “Sworn brotherhood?”

“Oh,” Will said.

“It is an old custom,” Will began, and then stopped. “No, it’s an old name for an old custom. Oh, I don’t know where to start! Okay, then. When two boys become close friends, when they believe they have a common destiny, or want to be together, or love one another, they may swear an oath.”

“Like Best Friends,” Barrett said. “I know all about that—”

“Yes, that’s about all it is, today,” Will said. “Two tweens decide they want to share boy magic exclusively with one another…at least, until they change their minds. Or a tween will want to share exclusively with a particular boy…until they change their minds. And they’ll become Best Friends. Sometimes they’ll swear a public oath. Most of the time, they just announce it to their friends. Until they change their minds.

“In the old days, it was different. Brotherhood wasn’t just about having an exclusive sexual partner until one got tired of him. It was deeper than sex and different from love. It could be a promise to always remember someone if he left home to join the Army or temple. It could be a commitment to a lasting friendship. It could be a promise to give someone whatever he needed and not being afraid to ask anything of him. It could be an acknowledgement that two or more boys’ destinies were bound together and that they would face together whatever hardships came to them, and share any joys or wealth that they found. Some boys swore an oath that bound them not just in this life, but in all their lives to come. One could swear brotherhood with more than one boy without breaking an earlier oath of brotherhood. It was inclusive, not exclusive.

“In the old days, the oath was made in public, at a temple, perhaps, so that it could be witnessed and supported by the boys’ friends and families…just like when a man and woman pledge troth.

“Master Edward knows the old ways, and I believe he follows them, too. He’s a deep man, and a good one.”

*****

The few days before winter solstice were busy. The solstice and a new moon would coincide. First Market would be held on the day of the solstice. The winter markets were important more for socialization than for trade. The city was crowded. The cold brought to the Boar’s Head people who in more clement weather would have slept in the fields around the city. The stable was full, and it was past matins when Will finished his tasks. He walked across the courtyard toward the mudroom, intending to clean his boots before finding something in the kitchen to eat. His fatigue vanished when he opened the door.

The room was filled with men dressed in dark travel cloaks. Swords, some in sheathes but more clipped naked to belts or baldrics, flashed in the lamplight. Consternation rippled through the men. The two closest to Will grabbed the boy while others drew their swords. Will stepped back, but someone had pushed the door from his grasp. It slammed shut, trapping him in the room.

“Hold,” a strong but calm voice spoke. Will recognized Edward’s voice. “He is a friend.”

“Will,” Master Edward continued, “these men are old friends who carelessly find themselves away from home after curfew.”

That’s not all there is to it, Will thought. But he wants me to accept what he says. “Of course, Master,” he said aloud. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, Will,” the publican replied. “Thank you.” He opened the door leading to the scullery. “You may leave your boots until tomorrow. The bath is still hot and your supper is in the kitchen.” It was a clear dismissal.

The morning routine at the inn was unchanged, except that both Will and Barrett were a little busier. Will saw none of the men from the mud room, and realized that they must have departed after curfew, risking arrest. He shrugged it off. If Master Edward is unconcerned, Will decided, I should not worry.

“The Senior got really fired up today,” Kerry said. Kerry had attended the Sext meeting at the temple to meet some of his friends. “Brigands broke into the temple treasury last night. What they didn’t steal, they burned. The Senior promised to curse anyone who had been involved and anyone who knew anything about it.”

Curse them? Will wondered. “He really said he’d curse someone?”

“Yeah!” Kerry said.

“What was so valuable that a cleric of the Light would curse someone?” Will asked.

“Not valuable, but incriminating!” Kerry said. “My friends said that the temple and the baron are collaborating with the Black Ships. They said that whatever was stolen could prove that…”

“No more gossip,” Edward’s voice came from the doorway. “What you heard and what you’re saying is too close to false witness. Do not say it again. To anyone. Will, that goes for you and Barrett, as well.”

Will nodded. His mind ran furiously down strange paths. False witness? That’s an ancient charge. No one would dare make false witness today, not with at least one boy in a hundred being a Sembler. Malachi said that the Semblers make possible a society based on the Light. Once people learn that they cannot lie with impunity, they cease lying. When they cease lying, they find that they can live in harmony without greed. Well, most of them, anyway.

“I saw you last night,” Will said. He was oddly unafraid. He’d gone into a storeroom in the stable looking for extra horse blankets. In the room was a cot. It had not been there, before. On the cot, his left arm bandaged, was one of the men who had been in the mudroom. The bandage was bloody.

“You are injured,” Will continued. “Has a healer visited you?”

“No,” the man said. “That would not be convenient—”

“I have learned some things about binding wounds,” Will said. “Yours was not done properly, or it would not be bleeding so much. Would you like me to—”

The man looked hard at the boy before speaking. “Yes, please,” he said.

After cleaning and rebinding the man’s wound, Will declared, “You must be attended by a healer, otherwise the wound will become infected. You should not be in the stable, for it harbors things that cause wounds to putrefy. I will tell Master Edward…”

“He knows.” The publican’s voice came from the doorway. “A healer will visit later today. Come, Will, we must not draw attention to this place.”

Will and the publican sat in the scullery. “Will, I need your trust and silence on this matter.”

“I am in your debt for offering sanctuary to Barrett and me, despite the danger to yourself and your family,” Will began, only to be interrupted.

“I do not ask that you repay that debt,” the publican said, “but that you allow me to repay the greater debt I owe you.”

“I do not understand,” Will said.

“You offered me trust,” Master Edward said, “when you told me about your sword and revealed more about yourself than was safe to do. That was a great gift and not the burden that you seem to think you have placed on me. I would give you that same gift, although you may see it as a burden. Do you understand?”

He does follow the old ways, Will thought.

“I do understand,” Will said. “The greatest gift is the gift of trust. I had not remembered that when I gave you my trust. Thank you for reminding me.”

Edward’s face brightened. “Although you carry a sword, you know the ways of Valeus?”

“Valeus knew that the Light required both the sword and the voice,” Will answered. “Master Edward, I accept your gift gladly.”

“Thank you,” Edward said. “The man you saw in the store room was injured during the raid on the temple. I led that raid, and the men you saw in the mudroom—men who are my sworn companions—were the ‘brigands’ the Senior promised to curse. We did not steal treasure, nor did we set the fire. We were looking for evidence of the collusion of which Kerry spoke. We believe we have found it. Letters. Unfortunately, they are written in a code which we cannot read. The letters will be copied and sent secretly to—” he paused. “That is not my secret to reveal.

“Will, a great Evil flourishes in Norfolk. My friends and I are doing what we can to bring the Light to bear on it,” Edward said.

“I would like to help,” Will said.

“Thank you; however for the moment your trust and silence will serve the greatest good.”

Will was disappointed, but acknowledged the man’s wisdom.