The Deformed Knight
A small collection of stories containing the adventures of Glenn before his most epic journey.
Chapter Three: The effect of a sin and the offer of a master…
"So, art thou bearing false witness to thy subordinates once again?" A punch landed into the pit of an already bruised stomach.
"Art thou too noble to share thy wealth with us?" A demeaning slap stung an already battered right cheek.
"We will ease the burden from your back, my lord." Something caused his lower back to ignite in a warming sensation accompanied with the pain of scratches that had been there before.
The small boy fell to the street at last, his energy spent entirely. He rolled slowly on the ground, unable to keep those grubby paws away from his pockets and knapsack. He felt the same feet that pushed him around for the past few weeks nudge him again while he coughed and sputtered, a mixture of blood and spittle falling from his lips. The cruel demons who were disguised as children laughed without mercy as the pauper struggled to his knees.
"Did I say that you may rise?"
A lean boy raised his knee so that his foot was placed upon the quivering shoulder of the victim. He smiled in a sickeningly sweet way as he suddenly pushed his weight forward, kicking his leg so that the poor boy flew backwards, hitting his head against the wet street. The boy instantly curled into a little ball, grasping the back of his head in pain as several tears leaked out from his tightly closed eyelids. He could feel something slightly thicker than water trickle down his neck.
"I speak the truth! I have not received any money this day." The boy whimpered as he writhed on the ground.
"Then thou shall gather thy earnings and return here within in an hour, and it shall be well with thee. However, if thou mocketh us…" To bring the point across, the monster gave him another nudge with his foot before walking away with his companions.
And now we go back to that night when our poor angel was the victim of this circumstance the first time. Since that time he was visited often by these ruffians. Glenn would generally try to stay where people walked to and fro, insuring his safety unless they were able to use some clever divergence to draw him away from the crowd. Sometimes he would try to avoid them completely, taking the back alleys only to come face to face with them on occasions. Sometimes he would run and escape, sometimes he would take his beating and yield his profits to appease their unjustified assault, and sometimes he would try his best to reason with them, but unfortunately you cannot reason with everyone. Especially with such beastly children as these.
However, no matter how often the beatings were given to him, it would never compare to the pain he felt in his heart when he came home that night. It was a horrible ordeal on its own, all his hard work being taken from him, and now he would face his parents in disgrace. Although he was a peaceable child, being beaten and tossed to the side was still upsetting and he was very unwilling to discuss such a matter with his parents.
That day, when he faced his first assault on every principle he believed in, he trudged home, hobbling on his sprained ankle that bent from his earlier falls. His appearance was so unusual that even a few eyes gave him a glance as he made his way up Beggar Street towards his home. He was thankful that the sun began to set, hiding his features behind shadows that crept their way up the sides of houses. He reached his door and pushed against it slowly, trying to make his presence as unnoticeable as possible.
I can tell you that I have seen poverty, and it is something very hard to describe in words. Poverty is more than a station in life; it is a feeling or an experience that almost seems to make all of existence seem hideous. The eye, which is normally lazy when it views beauty in its entirety, suddenly becomes active as it views each and every atrocity in its view. This would not be such a problem if this was the normal condition of all those around them, but in this city there was a wide gap of rich and poor so that every man knew the difference. Therefore, returning home to a dingy, one room apartment was often a depressing feat.
The floorboards of his humble abode were dirty and filled with pebbles and straws of hay between the slats. There was no bed in that place and a small chimney for cooking was lit in the opposing side of the room. His bed, which was a matted pile of straw, lay to the right of the entrance. There was no window; glass was expensive and it let the cold inside. Instead, there was rock that was removable from the wall so that light could enter the house when there was no fire or whenever they needed it. The smell of smoke and ash filled the room along with the smell of vegetables. All aspects of their life were not as pitiful as it seemed; they had more money for better meals and they had blankets to keep them warm, but they still lived frugal lives.
"Aye, my little love! Thou art with us!" A cheery, kind voice that seemed to sing greeted Glenn lovingly.
Within the darkness of the house, he wiped blood of his mouth as he tried his best to steady his voice, "Aye, 'tis I."
"My working son hath need of nourishment! Come; dine with us by the fire!" The father added just as merrily.
"I thank thee both, but I must protest, I am overcome by the work of the day. I need only dreamy respite." Glenn began to make his way towards the haystack.
"Ha," the father chuckled, "thou dost need vigor, and thy mother hath blended such a remedy using only butter and salt!"
"Surely you jest!" The mother rubbed her husband's back affectionately, "'Tis merely a simple broth."
"'Tis fit for a king!" The father said straightening his back and sticking out his chest so that he appeared regal.
"'Tis fit for a jester!" The mother laughed as she gave him a small peck on his cheek.
"Son, wilt thou abide with us?" his father said, looking towards him now. There was a slight tone of worry within his voice now. Had he seen his face?
"I protest father, if it pleases thee. I must be off to my labors at an early hour."
"What is that?" His father rose from his seat and came closer to Glenn.
Glenn turned away from his father's gaze, but found himself being turned about gently. He felt his father's course hands examine his face as he felt himself being pulled closer to the fire. As the light hit him he heard the sounds that he dreaded most at that time. There was the sound of a stifled sob and the sound of low, throaty growl.
"Who hath done this to thee?" His father demanded more than asked.
Glenn stood there for only a moment, reflecting on all the teachings he heard. He knew the words of prophets and he knew in his heart which was the right thing to say, however, something prevented him from doing what he knew was right. He did something that he did not know was so easy to do: he lied. As his father looked upon his face Glenn smiled slyly as if he seemed guilty of a certain act. "Thou shall laugh at my foolishness, father! Thus, my reluctance to confess the origins of my injuries is hesitantly broken. I visited Central Street this morning and I obstructed the path of a wagon. The driver was fast and I felt myself trampled underfoot, and thus I am cursed for my carelessness."
The father looked at Glenn appraisingly and said, "Tellest thou the truth? I know that thou hast been honest all of thy days and I doubt thou would be willing to stop such an honorable achievement at this point. Just remember, my son, I shall support thee whatever the answer may be."
There was the feeling of bile rising within his stomach as he looked into his father's imploring eyes. A parent is blessed with many gifts, and a gift of discernment towards their children happens to be one of them. Glenn realized that his father knew the truth, yet this sin was much like an avalanche; once it began to fall it could not be ceased or diverted. He knew that his father doubted. He knew that he could see right through an untrained liar. He knew, but he continued his charade nonetheless. "'Twas an accident, father." was his hollow reply.
The father bit his lip and nodded in reply as if he were greatly disappointed, yet he said nothing but only gave Glenn a pat on the shoulder, "Then dine with us."
Have you ever had one of those nights were you could not sleep? There are different types of sleepless nights: there is the more pleasant one where you excited for something that would occur tomorrow, there were the nights when you were sick and although you wished it more than anything else your maladies would give you no quarter, there were also nights when you lay awake with your troubles. Glenn had no pleasantness in his insomnia. His reasons were a large mix of different feelings. There was an unpleasant burning within his stomach that almost seemed as if he were sick; he felt worried and he feared what would happen the next day; he also reflected on a certain expression that he never saw his father use in his life.
He felt so wrong for having refused his father's help and lying to him all in the same day. He almost felt as if his innocence left him merely for a simple lie. This is why I say that children come into the world as pure things, because such a simple lie (which seems to be a necessity for our times and ages) was enough to keep him awake and effect his stomach insomuch that he would toss and turn in discomfort. Perhaps it was wrong of his father to act in such a way, and perhaps it was for the best that Glenn did not say anything, but at that moment he wished he had told him his troubles.
As he cried himself to sleep, he prayed to god that he would deliver him from his troubles. He begged that somehow his opponents would soften their hearts so they would no longer be so merciless for the solely for the sake that he would no longer feel this pain that tore his heart asunder.
Guilt is a powerful thing.
"What hath happened to thee, my young friend?"
The snow had returned and it covered the rooftops in pristine white. Gray clouds helped derive any color from the world and only the clothing from people who walked about the city served as a stark contrast of the dull colors about them. Even the rose bushes that burst with color in the springtime were covered and only a few barren twigs could be seen. However, the walkway in the garden was clear of snow and you could see the colored stones that consisted of it.
"I see that you have finished thy labors." Glenn said absentmindedly.
"I have," the gardener said with a nod of his head, "'twas before daybreak that I had finished it."
"Well, thy efforts are comely." Glenn said, making sure that his face could not be seen.
"What hath happened to thee? Thou art injured."
"It is nothing." Glenn said firmly, wishing that he did not have to lie again, "It was my fault. I obstructed a wagon and was trodden underfoot."
"I see." The gardener said softly.
"I have brought your provisions." Glenn acted curtly only because he wanted to leave quickly. However, he could feel that sickening feeling again.
"Very well," the gardener spoke with a stiff tone, "I suppose you must go about you business."
Could he really lie to a servant of god?
Glenn had made his way towards the cathedral, already seeing a plume of smoke rise from the small house that sat beside it. Lying to his parents was a grievous deed for him and it pained him to the point where he lacked for sleep. Lying to the baker earlier was difficult as well and left an awkward feeling between the two. It would strike someone who was never a child why someone would dread lying to a minister more than to their own parents. We tend to forget that children, when they see a man who is revered as a man of god, seem to have more reverence in their presence. A noisy child, who would run circles around his own parents, could become painfully silent around a man of sound religious affirmation. How incredible it is that guilt can intensify when an unclean person is brought before a pure hearted man! It is not incredible at all, but rather a fact or truth that can never be changed.
Therefore, poor Glenn walked towards the heavy wooden door with all the fear and trembling of a sinner walking into judgment. His basket of provisions rested on his wrist while he wringed his hands together, the hands beginning to shake nervously. A single fist pounded against the door while his face looked straight down at the steps. He could already hear the footsteps approach the door, and then he could hear the door swung open on its squeaky hinges.
"I grant thee a blessed morning, good friend!"
It was at that point where he remembered an old tale that did not seem to offer an insight to his problems at first. However, as it flashed through his mind it suddenly dawned on him that he could apply this to himself. There was once a man who was a slave, but became an overseer in his master's house due to his gift of prophesy, however, one day, the man who owned him left him alone to attend to his duties. His owner had an adulterous wife and she made advances on him, ordering him to do the unthinkable. It was then that Glenn received his valuable insight. The man did not stand in temptation; he ran.
It was bewildering to the priest as he stood in the icy breath of a winter's morning, holding aloft a basket of baked goods, watching his friend run away without as much as a 'if it please thee.' He only scratched his head and pocketed the money that he planned on giving him. He sighed, turned about, and closed the door behind him.
And so it went on. Instead of lying to those he held dear, the confused child simply ran…
The weeks passed until two months passed by in the same fashion. Life was no longer as prosperous as it was before, but still his family managed. The poor child had become more reclusive as a result and his only words were questions and quick responses. His parents had become increasingly worried but tried to respect his integrity when he merely told them that it was no big matter. The priest had become slightly worried as well and the gardener simply began to be irritated. However, this is where the story takes a positive turn.
It was another day and the frost had begun to show signs of disappearance. Although it still snowed occasionally, there was no more need for heavy clothing and the sun made itself more manifest than not. Blades of green grass would occasionally peep from underneath a dirty blanket of snow before it would be covered by another bundle that fell from the rooftops.
Glenn walked down Central Street as he made his way towards the gardener. He passed through the gate and saw the gardener who greeted him with a short grunt which had become his ordinary fashion. However, something was different this day. The gardener, since Glenn had become so quick to excuse himself, would hardly even pay him attention as he worked through his duties. However, this day, he viewed Glenn while he was not watching. He watched as Glenn put a full basket on a random bench. There were scratches on his arms and bruises on his face. The gardener watched as he limped away and that seemed to set something in motion.
"Glenn!" The gardener shouted so suddenly that Glenn seemed to jump out of his skin. In fact, he was so surprised that he forgot to run.
"I pray thee, stay a while. Abide with me, for I shall need an audience. Wilt thou help me?"
Something seemed to take over for a while, and Glenn found himself acting without thinking, or on some divine impulse, "Aye, I shall."
The minutes passed and Glenn merely reflected on why he agreed to such a thing. He dreaded the thought of having the gardener probe him with questions. This time he would not be able to excuse himself without greatly offending the gardener. Would he have to confess all the wrongs he had done? It was a very unsettling thought and it made him want to run. However, he found that his legs would not let him leave and he found that he was somehow extremely curious about what the gardener had planned. It wasn't until an hour later that the very thing he planned came into being…
While he contented himself to rest on the bench in the garden (which he was very pleased to do, seeing that he had made many deliveries that day) he listened to the birds singing while he could hear the steady sound of snipping metal from the gardener as he trimmed some unruly bushes. Glenn immersed himself into a world of sound and allowed himself to fly from his worries if only for a moment. He could hear the steady murmur of people from the square, the faint wind rustling through trees that waved back and forth, and finally, the strange sound of wood tapping against stone.
His eyes had closed themselves so that he could take in the sounds of the world, but they were pulled open by this strange sound that seemed so close to him. He looked over and beheld an older man, a man that was perhaps the same age as the gardener. He had a cane with him that continually prodded the earth beneath him. He was a more handsome man than the gardener. His eyes were light and he had a long flowing beard that came to the middle of his chest. He also wore clothes that seemed more like priestly robes, only they were velvet and colorful. He looked at the gardener who had risen from his work, casting aside his tools. The gardener returned his gaze with twinkling eyes.
"It has been nearly a year, my friend." The gardener said as the strange visitor drew closer.
They embraced each other like brothers while the visitor said, "Aye, 'tis good for my soul to see thy face, Avary."
"Avary?" Glenn whispered to himself. Was that the gardener's name? Why did it sound so familiar?
"Glenn!" The youth was pulled from his thoughts as the dresser of the garden beckoned him closer. "Tristen, this is my good friend. He has been kind enough to offer help in my garden."
"My garden? What does he mean when he doth say 'my garden?'?" Glenn thought to himself.
"Aye," the visitor said with a happy burst of laughter, "A kind soul that doth care for the overly elderly!"
"Thou art my senior, or hath the knowledge of such an important fact taken leave of thy conscious?" The gardener guffawed in reply as did the visitor.
The group of three started moving slowly towards a quaint home that was in the middle of the garden. All this time Glenn never suspected that it belonged to the gardener, seeing that the gardeners he knew where impoverished like his own family. A job of manual labor belonged to the poor and it had always been that way. However, it seemed that the gardener (or rather, Avary, as he shall hereto be named) made himself rather comfortable in the home which Glenn decided could not be his. He pushed open the door to show a comfortable single room apartment with a roaring fire and detailed rugs on the floor.
As they stepped inside Glenn was surprised to see quite a few things that he would never expect to see in a gardener's home (if this home did belong to him). There were all manner of weapons hanging on the wall, each one held in a lavish sheath that held the crest of their nation. There were many books that lined cherry wood shelves which Glenn could not read. However, it seemed to send the message that Avary was no ordinary gardener.
The two old men sat in old chairs (these chairs were the perfect kind, where your weight barely sinks inward so that it feels the chair itself is wrapping around you) and began to discuss names and family matters which were lost to Glenn. He found his surroundings a bit more interesting than the conversation and found himself staring at a portrait of a young man in Porre armor. Once again, the soldier in the portrait seemed oddly familiar. Glenn also began to look through the volumes of books (of course he asked for permission) and although he could not read he was more than happy to view the many pictures that littered the volumes.
"Well, shall we test each other then?"
Glenn spun about. He was not certain how much time had passed, but it more than enough for the old gentlemen to see that it would be rude to keep the young boy from his day any further. Therefore, Glenn hesitantly put a leather bound volume back onto the shelf and followed the old men outside to an open part of the garden.
Glenn followed behind and finally managed to ask very softly, "Excuse me, sirs? What shall thy test be?"
Avary only smiled and said, "Thou shalt observe."
Avary motioned for Glenn to step a distance away from the two men who faced each other at twenty paces apart. He did so with a confused expression which only seemed to cause the pair to smile broadly. Glenn could feel himself blush as the men chuckled at some unseen joke. It only made him wish he left.
But only for a moment…
Have you ever seen a friend or a person do something that you would never expect them to do? Your reaction would depend on what they had done. A shy lover would cause his counterpart to swoon by suddenly doing something rash and unforeseen. A lackluster student could astound the most composed teacher with a spirited response, causing a lofty sense of surprise.
Keeping this in mind, we must see how Glenn views all the elderly. His vision is relatively the same as how we view our own. There are times when we see the elderly as feeble. He also imagined that they lived in a state of constant pain, seeing how most of the old people he had ever seen would hobble down the streets. And also, (and much like we would expect) he would never expect an older gentleman to have the strength of a bear and the speed of a leopard.
A hiss of sharp breath came from each side as the two men dashed towards each other, their boots kicking up clods of snow and blades of grass. Glenn almost fell backwards in surprise at their speed, but he was awed when he saw Avary leap into the air with the grace of a doe. It did not even seem as if he jumped or as if he fell. It almost seemed as he floated back down to the ground while Tristen twisted his entire frame around, spinning a leg about so that it came over his head. The heavy boot came barreling down on a pair of crossed arms, cradling the blow. Avary pushed forward, causing Tristen to step back. It was Avary who made the next blow; he stood so that he was anchored on a leg that pointed away from Tristen, but quickly shifted his weight onto his other leg so that the anchored foot flew towards Tristen's stomach. The reaction was instantaneous and showed that whatever strange style of fighting this was, these men had studied it for years. Tristen reacted in such a way that Glenn never thought possible. He saw Tristen cross his wrists as Avary had done before, only the palms and the vice-like fingers faced outward, waiting for the impact. He could see that Tristen winced from the blow, but even a novice to the art of war such as Glenn knew that if the blow landed on the stomach it would be more devastating. However, the arms did more than cradle the blow; his fingers gripped his boot so that a simple jerk would cause his leg to bend, causing his entire body to spin awkwardly in the opposite direction.
"I have thee now…" Tristen said with a gleam in his eye.
Avary only stood with a gleam in his own eye that suggested that this was far from the truth, "Thou art forgetful. There are always ways to escape a hold."
Tristen had a slight change of expression which seemed to be a world of surprise as Avary leapt on his anchored foot, sweeping it so that it came up to Tristen, who continued to hold the foot, but stepped back. The foot missed his face, but the momentum of his spin caused his foot to break loose from the hold. Tristen laughed in amazement as Avary landed with feline grace. Tristen rushed forward, but was stopped by a single hand which announced the end of the warm up. The two older men looked towards Glenn who seemed as if he witnessed the most amazing thing in his life.
Glenn never believed in fighting and he never really cared for it when he would see drunkards battling against each other in Beggar Lane. However, this fighting was far more different than anything he had ever seen. It almost seemed as if it were a lightning quick dance that seemed to rely more on self defense than attacking an individual. Compared to the awkward and clumsy movement of the drunkards who fought constantly in his neighborhood, these men moved with as much power and grace as he had ever seen. He clapped enthusiastically while the two men blushed appreciatively.
"What is that?" Glenn asked while they sipped warm apple cider.
They were inside once again, each one carrying a wooden mug in their hands which belonged to the house. This time Glenn seemed to have no trouble believing that the gardener, Avary, at least lived here. (It was still incredible for him to believe that a humble gardener owned such a nice place). He was leaning forward in his seat, his mood completely different from the first time they sat inside the room.
He was leaning forward in his seat, listening to every detail as he learned many interesting things from Avary. In fact, so great was his interest that the rambling of two old men became a course of inquiries which was greatly intriguing for all who participated.
"Thou art members of the army to thy majesty?"
"Aye, and have been for many years. Methinks it has been a score and ten years since I have been released."
"On what grounds, good knight?" Glenn asked leaning forward.
Avary smiled and seemed bashful as Tristen laughed, "Hold thy tongue, young friend! More than a simple soldier was he! 'Twas the head captain, this one!"
Tristen patted him affectionately on the back while Avary mused, "Aye, but if you were to see our lives though our own eyes, thou wouldst believe him to be the captain!" They both laughed as they tipped their mugs together before finishing the rest in a single draught.
"Why hast thou pardoned thyself from the service of the king, may I ask?" Glenn pressed.
"Pardon me; there comes a time where one tires of the old and longs for the new. Along with that, I missed my family horribly."
"Thou hath a family?"
The conversation suddenly turned somber, "Had, my friend. I had a family. I had a daughter who married a man from Guardia; I have seen naught of her for nary a decade. My wife had been taken of me, but into far better hands, I trust. My son doth serve his majesty now, but only his station is far from here."
"Know he thy methods of combat?"
Avary nodded, "Aye, 'twas a method passed down from generation to generation. Even my daughter is learnt in the skill. However, she practices no more, and if my son were to meet an early end, it would be finished."
Glenn looked to the floor, "How sorrowful…"
"There is a chance. There doth be a reason I have conjured thee here."
"And what is thy reason?"
"I wish to teach thee this skill for defense."
Glenn blushed, "I am honored sir, but I fear that I shall not suit thy rigorous regimen. I am small of stature, with nary a muscle to my bone!"
Tristen guffawed (perhaps out of boredom or perhaps he wanted to enter the conversation again, but regardless, he continued) "Hast thou ever stolen an egg from the nest of its mother?"
"I say that I have not."
"And why is that?"
"The mother goes mad and attacks those who try such a thing."
"Art thou bigger than that bird?"
"Of course."
"Why runnest thou? 'Tis a small and seemingly easy a foe, but when brave and willing to forego danger, it becomes a threat to be reckoned with."
Avary laughed and pointed at Tristen with his thumb, "Doth thou comprehend the abstract lesson of this philosophic fool?"
They all laughed and when they settled down Glenn could not help but ask, "Why asketh thou a simple boy like myself?"
"Those bruises…From whence do they come?"
Glenn looked down to the floor at those words and the once jovial surroundings turned into awkward silence. Glenn wished to stand and run from them, but it almost seemed as if his body forbade it. A cold chill engulfed him and he realized that the gardener knew the truth. And then the chill became colder still when he realized that perhaps everyone else knew. A flood of emotions and embarrassments came to him all at once and he finally found the strength in his legs.
"I must take my leave."
"Cease thy worries and shame, art thou willing to leave the company of friends to be with troubles?"
When Avary had said this, Glenn was within an arm's reach of the door. He could feel the cool handle against his skin as his hand trembled upon it. Slowly, the grip began to loosen and his hand dropped to his side. Avary took this as an invitation to speak, "Perhaps thou doth feel dishonor and horror at my knowing. However, hast thou forgotten that thou art loved? Doth thou know of the concerns of all those I know for thee? The whole lot of us worry for you. Thou art well-known in these streets for thy kindness and humility. However, there are those that will take thy kindness for weakness and they shall abuse you. As the good book sayeth, you may very well 'turn the other cheek', but do not forget that thou only have a pair. You may be struck twice, but then I suggest that thou doeth the striking."
"I wish to be good; I wish to be kind to all people. I will not be as those who despitefully use others."
"Do you not also believe there should be justice?"
"Aye, god is just."
"What justice have these rogues received?"
Glenn was silent.
"Glenn, there are times where men must stand up for themselves. God may help his children, but inevitably they must make the choice and open the door. Mayhaps you could merely study and when you know of a certainty what is right, thou mayest use thy knowledge freely. The Lord doth say that all should prepare for anything conceivable, is it not so?"
He was silent still.
"Wilt thou train under me? Wilt thou accept my help which I so willingly give?"
He was silent longer. Tristen was no longer willing to speak, but leaned forward as he searched for a reply. He watched as Glenn tensed his fist and let it tremble while a battle between right and wrong unfolded in his mind. Finally, the silence was broken.
"Aye…I shall train with thee. Perhaps I may find a peaceful situation, but I shall learn only because thou asketh this of me."
Note: I don't know if we are still allowed to leave notes after a part of the story. In anycase, I hope you all enjoyed it. I think I'm going to switch to this story for a while. I've been away from it for too long...I could tell because it was hard to write archaic:)