Wellspring of Chaos

XXX

On threeday morning, Kharl was up at dawn and used the well behind the cottage to wash up, chill as the air was, cold as the water was.

Warrl joined him just as the sun flooded a clear fall sky. “You have to go today, Da?”

“I do.”

“Uncle Dowsyl said you could stay. I heard him.”

Kharl decided against pointing out Merayni’s views on that. “Your uncle is a good and kindly man, Warrl. But…I’m not a grower. I’m a cooper. I might be able to be a carpenter somewhere, or do other things, but a grower I’m not.”

“Aunt Merayni doesn’t think you’ll ever be a cooper again. She said so. Is it true?”

“I can’t be a cooper in Brysta. I’d have to go somewhere else, maybe even another land.”

“You could come here.”

Kharl shook his head. “Peachill is too small for a cooper. People only need a few barrels a year here.”

“You don’t want to come?”

“I can’t, son.”

“You don’t want to…”

“It’s not that…” Kharl tried to think of an answer that would express what he felt. “It’s…I’d rather be with you…but if I came here…it wouldn’t be fair to Merayni or Dowsyl…or to you. It’s too close to Brysta. It’s still part of Lord West’s lands.”

“How could that be? You work hard. You’d do that, here. I know you would. You always work hard.”

“Warrl…do you remember what happened in Brysta? Every time I cross the street there, now, I have to look to make sure there aren’t any of Lord Egen’s bravos around. I’m staying with people, poor people, but I have to sneak in and out. If I came here, and Lord Egen found out…” Kharl shook his head slowly.

“No! It can’t be…” Warrl’s headshake was violent. “You’re just saying that…” He turned and found himself held by Dowsyl. He looked up. “Uncle Dowsyl…that…it can’t be…”

“Lad…I fear so,” said Dowsyl slowly. “Your da’s got the right of it, sad as it is.”

“I had to make sure you were all right,” Kharl said, his eyes fixed on Warrl’s narrow face, in some ways so much like his mother’s. “But I dare not come back too soon. And if I go to sea, I’ll not be able to. Not for a time.”

“But…why? What did you do?”

“Your da did what was right,” answered Dowsyl. “Times…when a man does, and a lord’s done wrong, all those around the man suffer. It’s not fair, lad, but that’s the way of the world. But don’t be blaming your da for doing right. There’s too few that will in these days.”

Warrl slowly turned. “Da…”

Kharl stepped forward and put his arms around his son. He also mouthed the words, “Thank you,” to Dowsyl.

The grower nodded, with a sad smile, before saying, “Merayni’s got breakfast for us. Come on in when you’re ready.” After a moment, he added, “Your da will need a good fill, Warrl. Long walk back to Brysta.” He turned and left them.

“I’m sorry, Da,” offered Warrl, stepping back from Kharl’s embrace.

“So am I. Never thought…” Kharl shook his head again.

Warrl looked down.

After another silence, the cooper said, “We’d better go eat.”

Breakfast was hearty, with fried apples and pearapples, ham slices, and hot bread from the oven. There was little conversation, because he and Warrl had said what they could, as had Dowsyl, and because Merayni had long since voiced her views. Young Dowlan was interested in having more pearapples, and his sisters chattered about the new goat kid.

Before all that long, the food was gone, and Kharl had given Warrl a last hug, thanked Merayni and Dowsyl. In turn, Merayni had given Kharl some travel bread, cheese, and some dried pearapples. Then Kharl was walking down the long lane toward the main road. The light wind rustled the dry winter-gray leaves still clinging to the grove trees.

The cooper reflected as he walked eastward on the lane toward the road back to Brysta. Dowsyl had seemed concerned, and Kharl had sensed sadness in Warrl. Merayni had been polite. She’d not even said anything nasty and had been hospitable to him, if cool, although he could tell that she had been more than glad to see Kharl leave-without Warrl.

When Kharl reached the main road to Brysta, where he turned north, he could feel eyes on his back-probably those of the woman with the less-than-orderly gardens, watching to see where the stranger might be headed. He kept walking.

By midmorning, he was hungry, and he stopped beside a stream and sampled some of the bread and dried pearapples. He saved the rest of what Merayni had given him for later. He knew he’d be even hungrier then, and who knew when or what he’d eat once he reached Brysta.

He’d walked another glass or so, when, at the sound of hoofs on the road, Kharl glanced behind him. He saw no riders coming from the south, and that suggested that they were on the far side of the curve in the road ahead. He looked around, then spied an opening in the hedgerow behind the stone wall bordering the road. He scrambled into the hedgerow just as the first rider of a column of lancers cantered around the curve and into sight.

While the lancers in blue tunics trimmed in burgundy rode past, Kharl counted more than twoscore riders. None said a word, and none had weapons at the ready, though all bore scabbards holding sabres.

Where were the lancers headed in such a rush-and why?

Kharl wondered if he’d ever know.

Once they had passed, and the sound of hoofs had died away, he eased himself out of his hiding place in the hedgerow and continued walking northward, doubting that he would reach the tannery walls until well after dark. Longer, if he encountered more lancers.

He hoped nothing had happened to Jeka in his absence.