Memories

By Lindsay R. Honosky

"What did he do again?" I tried to keep pace with the angry cook, but I guess his rage fulled his steps for it was hard to talk with him face to face while understanding his slurred words. The cook, Danel, I believe, had a very round face with small, piggish eyes. A small mustache rested above his rather pink lips, which I thought was funny, since the man had somehow managed to singe off his eyebrows over the years of slaving away in the king's kitchens. I quickly dodged a lantern that jutted from the wall, to focused on hearing his complaint than where I was going.

Danel rounded on me, "Honestly Tornac, have you taught him nothing? The other boys in the castle know far and well not to mess with my chickens!" He stopped, so suddenly I stumbled a bit to stay with him. His expression had softened, "Well, maybe it isn't your fault. I mean, well, you know."

I raised an eyebrow and asked cooly, "I know what?"

"Everyone in the castle knows! Come on, who could hope to raise Morzan's son to be a good man--"

"I believe that is none of your business, cook. Now, show me where he is before my patients wears thin and I report you to your superiors." Danel bowed, his face going back to its original infuriated state, as I marched behind him in my own cold fury.

Seven years. Hadn't within the course of seven years the boy proven he's just as normal as everyone else? Of course, Murtagh is a rather shy boy; almost to shy for his own good. I can hardly blame him, what with the other boys being either to old or to young to be proper friends, and of course his parentage always plagued him. Other than that, he's a very sweet boy, if not stubborn as an ox, a very quick learner, and shows a lot of promise in the sword. Maybe to much promise. . .

"We're here, Ser Tornac." Danel announced in a clipped tone.

The place was a pigstye, which, being a chicken coop I guess it isn't that much different. However, there were broken eggs everywhere, along with scattered feathers, broken cages, hay strewn this-way-and-that, and chickens everywhere. Of course, right in the middle of all this chaos, sitting on a tiny milking stool, was my young ward, his black-brown hair in disarray with little pieces of straw or a feather poking out here and there. His arms and legs were covered in scratches, nothing to serious, but in such a filthy place, the would need to be treated soon. His eyes were glued to the floor, as if studying his boots would let him escape his punishment. He would brood a lot, this boy; his way of dealing with the less savory things in life.

I cleared my throat and crossed my arms.

Emerald eyes shot up instantly, and a guilty smile spread across his tiny face, "Tornac!"

Usually that smile would get him out of trouble, but this seemed to be a little more serious than most of his antics. I stood there, my face stone, "I would like to hear what happened here," Danel began to shout and I held up a hand and glared at him, "in a calm, quiet tone, if you please."

Danel coughed and straightened his stance, "Very well. I was just minding my own business, making bread for tonight's dinner, if it please you ser, and all the sudden I hear my chickens going mad! So I grab my hatched, the one I keep on the wall ser, not one I use for cooking, and start running towards my coop to see what the trouble is. Why, for a half second I think that somehow a fox got into my chickens, but that can't be the case, since His Majesty protects us from such things and all, so I only start getting more and more nervous. Well, then I see a few of the squires come running out of my barnyard, and why, they tell me that they saw this little monster," he glared at Murtagh, "harassing my poor chickens! Kicking them, breaking their eggs, stabbing at them with a pitch fork--"

"That's a lie!" Murtagh cried, his face flushed with anger.

"It's the truth and you know it, you little mongrel!"

"You wouldn't know the truth if it came up and bit you in the backside, you stupid pig man!"

"Pig man?!You ungrateful brat! I should give you a good whipping myself!"

"Like you could catch me you stupid, fat, pig man!"

"Enough!" I shouted, causing both of them to stare at me. Once they had quieted down, I asked the boy, "Murtagh, is this true?"

"Of course it--!"

"Without shouting, please."

"Yes, sir." He took a deep breath; he always had trouble speaking to people, but he'd gotten better over the past years. He looked at his hands instead of our faces, "I, I mean, this is a long story."

Danel barked a hard laugh, "See there, Tornac? He doesn't want to waste our time when he knows he's guilty already!"

I smiled reassuringly at the boy, "We've got all the time in the world, Murtagh. Now please, if you would be so kind." I saw his eyes drift to one of the windows nearby, and I noticed three shadows disappearing from view. Looking back, I saw Murtagh frowning, a deep hurt in his eyes. Instantly I knew what had happened, but I kept quiet to see what the boy would do.

Murtagh sighed deeply, "I did it. I wanted to know where eggs came from, since the books I'm allowed didn't really tell me how or where they came from. So I came here, to see if I could watch and learn. But, well, I tripped over the pitch fork," he pointed at the farm equipment, "and crashed into the cages. I guess they all got knocked open, because when I looked up there were chickens everywhere. I tried to get them back in the cages, honest! But, well, they were a little faster than I thought, and their claws and beaks are really sharp, and--"

"Do you expect me to believe this? What interest does a ten-year-old boy have with chicken eggs? You're lying through your teeth, boy, and I won't stand for it!" Danel took a step towards him.

I extended my arm to block him, "I will deal with his punishment as I see fit, Danel. Now that this is over, you should go back to your work; the king will be most displeased if you do not have his supper ready in time."

"Of course, ser, you are right." He shot a grin at Murtagh, "Hope you weren't planning on sitting down within the next week, boy."

Murtagh stuck out his tongue.

"Why you little--!"

"Murtagh, come." I grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, dragging him out into the open air. The cook shouted something behind me, but all I heard were the tiny giggles coming from the writhing creature I held in my hands. I assumed he was making multiple faces at the poor cook, who was getting louder and louder as we got farther and farther. A small smile traced my lips, but it vanished before the boy saw it.

Once we were clear of Danel's wrath, and the prying eyes of the squires I'd seen watching the whole thing, I stopped near a willow tree and placed Murtagh in the grass. I stared down at him, studying him for a while. He sat on the ground, legs and arms crossed, refusing to meet my gaze. I hid a laugh as his lower lip protruded slightly, "Pouting is unbecoming of a knight."

"I'm not a knight," he continued sulking, "and I don't want to be one, ever. If knights are like those stupid--" He stopped suddenly.

"Like those what?"

"I don't want to say."

"Murtagh," I sighed, exhausted, "what am I going to do with you? I took you on as my ward to teach you how to behave! And here you are, destroying chicken coops!"

"They weren't destroyed! And . . . and, well, it's not like I did it on purpose."

"Oh? Then why were you there? I highly doubt it was to do as you said."

"I . . .!" He sighed, "I was, I just wanted, I mean," I could see tears brimming his eyes, "I just wanted to fit in."

All the pieces had come together by then. I sat beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, "You can tell me what happened; I won't say a word of it to anyone."

He was quiet for a while, then his head dropped and he said, "Chett and his friends, Jason and Grenn, they said that they would be my friend if I did as I was told. Well, then Chett said that they were going to go play in the chicken coop, that there was something really special inside that the stupid cook kept hidden from everyone else. They said they needed someone like me to get it too, or else something really bad would happen." He started drawing in a small dirt patch near is foot, "Well, we go inside, and nothing was special about that place. It smelled bad, and was noisy, and dark, and stupid. I was about to ask why we came when Jason opened up the first cage. The little chicken, it wasn't doing anything bad; I thought its white feathers were pretty. Like the kind I pull out of my pillow sometimes. But, well, Chett started saying, 'Look at this stupid bird!' and then Grenn said, 'I bet it would be less stupid with a quick lesson from a boot!'. The other boys laughed, but I didn't think it was funny. I asked them not to hurt the bird, that it wasn't doing anything wrong. I guess they got mad at me then, because they started to throw straw and stuff at me, then when I tried to run they pushed me down and Jason sat on me until the other boys had let all the other chickens out. Then I heard a bunch of them chirping, or backing, or whatever it is chickens do, and a lot of flapping and angry noises. When I looked, Chett was poking one with the pitch fork, and Grenn was kicking a few others. I told them to stop, I did! But they didn't listen to me." He wiped his face with his bare wrist, a line of mud appeared across his face where tears once were, "Then Jason got off of me and ran to the door, the other boys following. I tried to get out, I did, but they shut the door and locked it on the other side. I tried to put the chickens back, but they were all so angry, and they scratched and kicked at me whenever I tried to grab them, some of them even chased me!" He shot up then, his face in a determined frown, "But I wasn't scared! Don't think I'm a coward or anything!"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Anyway," he continued, "then I heard this really angry voice outside, and I started pounding on the door for him to open it. Well, that was when the stupid cook came in and saw the mess. The other boys were there too, but they started saying that I had done this and that, and I just got so angry that I, well, I tried to punch Chett in the nose. But he's bigger than I am, and older, so all he had to do was hold me by the head; and he laughed too. All of them did, except the cook."

I sighed, looking at the small boy next to me. Ruffling his hair, I said, "Well, that certainly isn't the way a knight should act, but they are still young, and will learn the proper ways soon enough. However, why didn't you tell Danel this? It wouldn't saved you a lot of trouble. I have to tell the boys' knights what happened here anyway."

"No!" He pleaded, "You can't say anything! I don't want them to think I'm a coward and a snitch!"

"Murtagh--"

"Please Tornac!" Tears were in his eyes again, "They already stay away from me enough! If they knew I told on them, they'd hate me even more."

Such a cruel life, this child has, I thought, staring into the pleading green eyes. And all because of his last name. I stood, helping him up, "Very well, Murtagh. I shall say nothing more of this. However, I'm not going to punish you for something you didn't do."

"But if you don't, then Chett'll know I told you."

"Alright then," I thought for a moment how to fix this problem, "for two weeks you are not to go to the yard and practice your swordplay. Instead, you'll be at the range; it's about time you learned they ways of the bow."

"Archery? But--!"

"No 'buts', understood? You wanted a punishment, so there it is."

"But I'm no good with a bow! People'll laugh at me!" He started to pout again.

I laughed, I couldn't help it, "Well then, you should practice hard so people don't have an excuse to laugh at you anymore."

"You're laughing at me now!"

I laughed again, this time a little harder. The boy, even more angry, began to hit my lower leg as if that would stop me. I lifted his tiny frame as high as I could, his hair touching the fingers of the willow tree and smiled, "Now now, none of that. Murtagh, you need to know that hitting people is not the proper way to deal with them. And," I put him back down, "I wasn't laughing at you, well, not in the way you think."

"Huh?"

"I mean, I wasn't doing it to make fun of you. I was laughing because I'm glad to know you." I smiled warmly at him.

He stared at me blankly, a slight blush on his face, "I don't understand." He stammered.

"I mean, I'm happy that you're around," I put my hand on his head gently, "son."

He stared at me in shocked silence, then a small smile appeared, like a lily blooming for the first time, "Son? Me? Really?" Then a sudden fear glinted in his eyes, "But, no! Tornac! The people, they, if they know that, then won't they hate you too?"

"Let them. If they hate you then they're obviously not good people to begin with." I saw him trying to work out what I had said in his head, so I ruffled his hair once more and began to walk towards the Archery Range. Turning back, I saw him still standing there. My son, this tiny little boy without a friend in the world would be my son, and I dared the world and everyone in it to try and change that. How foolish that dare was, "Come on boy! If you don't hurry, the sun will have set and you'll be shooting in the dark!"

His head popped up, and I heard his tiny voice shout, "C-coming!"