A Tale of Master Winthrop
The harsh wind buffeted his face and tugged at his baggy clothes. His leather boots slipped on the fine grey pebbles that lined the goat track that twisted up the looming hill. Maverick gripped his bow determinedly as he scrambled up the makeshift pathway. He was returning from an unsuccessful hunting trip and was eager to see his brothers again. He had promised to meet them at the top of this hill by mid-afternoon. As he reached the crest of the hill, he could see the haphazard village he lived in. The sound of distant laughter filled his ears and the aroma of wild herbs reassured him. He dropped to a crouch and let his calloused fingers sink into the soft dirt. He watched the activity in the village below and wished he could call this place home. He had lived here all his life, but he knew that it just wasn't the place for him. That's why he hunted. So he could wander aimlessly through the dense forest and just get lost in his own thought. Maverick could recall many times when he had thought about leaving the village and setting off into the forest, never to return. Although, deep inside, Maverick knew he wouldn't really belong there either. He stood up with a sigh. Now all that was left to do was wait.
The scorching sun beat down on his tan skin as he ruffled his already-messy mouse coloured hair. Maverick had been waiting at the top of the hill for almost an hour. Where are they? He thought as he sat down on the dead grass with a thud. He pulled his lanky legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. In all of his seventeen years, Maverick had never met a soul who felt more inclined to take his time than his brother Alec. In fact, Alec probably had his head buried in one of his religious texts right now. Maverick turned his head up towards the sky to take a glimpse of the blinding sun. "Be careful. You could go blind," Warned a familiar voice. Maverick looked around to see Alec approaching him.
From this angle, Alec looked monstrously tall, though when they were both standing they were the same height. Alec's dead straight hair framed his face as he looked down at Maverick. It was jet black, the colour of night. His eyes were an intense chocolate brown, identical to Maverick and Soren's. But that was where the similarities ended with the brothers. While Alec was as dark as night, Soren was like sunshine, Maverick thought. He had curling golden hair and shining tan skin. Soren was the strongest of all three of them, and the muscles in his arms stood out like chords. Well, okay, maybe they're not completely opposite Thought Maverick. All the brothers were tall. Soren and Alec both had easy smiles and were very charming, but as for Maverick, well, he had about as much charm as a dead slug. "Only you would know that," Retorted Maverick as Alec sat down on the crunchy grass next to him. "I'm just trying to protect you," replied Alec with a cheeky smile "besides, you don't want to end up like old Leslie, blind as a bat and crazy as one too." Maverick laughed at that and nudged Alec playfully. "Having all the fun without me, I see," Called a distant voice, and both Maverick and Alec looked up to see Soren. He had snuck up on them, silent as a hunter stalking a buck. He did that often.
He was lightly swinging his iron sword back and forth, as if it weighed nothing. Maverick could barely pick it up. The sunlight glinted off of the unscathed blade as Soren traipsed over to his brothers. He swiftly slid his sword into its crimson sheath before embracing Maverick tightly. "Good to have you back, Mav," Soren whispered into Maverick's ear. Soren stepped back and smiled broadly, his large hands on his hips and asked, "So, What's for supper Mav?" Alec playfully grabbed Maverick around the neck and swung him into a headlock. He ruffled his hair and remarked, "Leek stew from the garden, apparently. Once again our hopeless brother didn't catch a thing!" Soren's smile only broadened at this. "Oh my, dejavu. This all sounds oddly familiar. Oh wait! The exact same thing happened last month!" he teased. Alec laughed heartily and released Maverick. He stumbled away, scowling. "Let's go home," he grumbled as he began to trudge down the hill.
The Icy water from the basin felt fantastic on Maverick's dirty face. He rinsed his hair thoroughly before glancing up at his reflection in the apricot coloured mirror. Water streamed down his scrubbed face and clung to his eyelashes. Behind his bedraggled face he could see the edge of the regal bathtub. How was it that, while others in the village starved, they could afford things like this? I thought that priests were generous, but apparently not thought Maverick sourly. It made him feel sick to think that they lived like this. When I'm older, I'll leave this place and live like the rest of the villagers. I'll divide my inheritance between everybody! Maverick thought determinedly. He wiped his face with the prim white towel and shook out his hair. Maverick slipped on the shirt that his father has given him and examined himself in the mirror. After wrenching a comb through his hair and adjusting his shirt so the colony seal was in the centre, Maverick thought he almost looked presentable.
Dinners with his father were always dull, and this one was no exception. Maverick stared down at something he thought was soup, though he had no idea what type. He swirled the sickly green substance with his gleaming silver spoon as his father cleared his throat loudly. The three brothers all glanced up at their father at the same time, expectant gleams in their eyes. His bald head shone in the light of the chandelier as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. He folded his chubby fingers in front of his white priest robe and looked Maverick straight in the eyes. Maverick held his gaze in anticipation. His father cleared his throat once more before beginning, "Now my sons, as I mentioned before, I have finally secured your places in the workforce. They will be as follows; Alexander, I have spoken to the head of the University of Salem and they have managed to squeeze you into one of their courses. After a mere six years of studying, you should have your master's degree in education," Alec's eyes had lit up and a slow smile was spreading across his lips. He nodded in thanks to his father. "You will start at the beginning of winter, in two months' time. In that time you will need to pack your things and organise yourself transport into the city. If you a ready soon enough, you may be able to get a ride into Salem with the traveling merchants. They will arrive on Friday and be heading back to Salem on the following Wednesday. That should give you plenty of time to settle into the university dormitories. God bless you Alexander," He finished with a slight incline of his shiny head. Alec returned the gesture.
After sipping some of his scarlet wine and mopping some sweat off his forehead, Maverick's father was ready to continue. He flexed his stumpy fingers before carrying on, "Sorentine, I have been speaking with old Clemm down at the tavern lately and we have come to a decision. He has been watching your combat training and is quite impressed. We decided that the next time the army comes into town to recruit villagers, you will sign up for the program. They are due around February next year. In between now and then, you are to continue your training. God bless you Sorentine." A broad grin spread across Soren's face. He nodded in thanks to his father, just as Alec had, then took a long drink of his wine, much longer than was polite. My turn now thought Maverick nervously.
He didn't care what his job was going to be. Maverick knew it wouldn't be anything as grand as his brother's jobs; he'd probably end up being some rich man's assistant or butler to an elderly widow. He was definitely not smart enough or strong enough to do anything really important. He gripped the stem of his elegant wine glass and looked his father in the eye. He was smiling at him and his eyes were glinting in unconcealed pride. Maverick was taken aback by this. He could not think of a time in his whole life that his cold hearted father had ever been proud of him. So why now? Thought Maverick. "Maverick," crooned his father "as the first born son of the family, you get the most special job of all." Special? wondered Maverick …oh no, it couldn't be…could it? Dread filled Mavericks mind and his stomach clenched with fear. No, anything but- His father confirmed his fears, "You will become the head priest."
Maverick's mind whirled and he was now gripping his wine glass so hard that his fingers were white. All the colour had drained from his face as he looked up at his beaming father. His voice trembled with extreme rage that he fought to control as he managed to force out the words, "I don't want to." His pudgy father looked horrified at the comment. Soren and Alec took this as their queue to leave and began to excuse themselves from the table before their father barked, "Sit down!" They sat back down in their seats, Alec looking embarrassed and Soren looking terrified. Just as his father was about to launch into a lengthy lecture about respect, Maverick shouted, "I won't do it!" He stood up so suddenly that his heavy wooden chair fell over backwards with a thunderous crash. Maverick stormed out of the dining room before another word could be said.
Fat drops of summer rain ran down his back and his heavy boots filled with water as he sloshed through the deep puddles on the gravel road. Maverick turned his face skyward just in time to see a flash of lightning illuminate the roiling thunder clouds. Thunder filled his ears as he stumbled down the uneven road. Warm rain mixed with tears streamed down his crumpled face. How dare his father appoint him with this role, when he clearly knows that it is the last job that Maverick could ever want? How could he possibly think that Maverick could run a village when he can barely run his own life? How can he expect him to lead sermons for the entire Massachusetts Bay colony on the Sabbath day when he has trouble speaking to just a few people? How could he be as cruel as to appoint Maverick with the role that he feared most? Suddenly, a tidal wave of rage hit Maverick so hard it almost made him double over. It was rage at his father, at his unwanted wealth, at his brothers for agreeing to leave him alone, at the villagers for not helping him, at the church for being so demanding, but especially at the colony. He clutched the image of the colony seal on his shirt. Maverick could not believe he would wear such filth! He violently tore off his shirt and hurled it into the muddy water at his feet. A scream of terrific rage escaped his lips and he tumbled to his knees. He balled up the torn and ragged material of his shirt and pounded it into the earth, over and over as giant sobs tore through his body, making him tremble. As his anger depleted, his sobs turned into ragged breathing and his pounding turned into slow thumping. Eventually, Maverick stopped. He bunched up the remains of his shirt in his bruised and bloody fingers, put his elbows on the ground and rested his head on his fists.
Maverick didn't know how long he had been crouched in the mud before he heard distant voices and the rattle of a rickety cart. A horse whinnied as a gust of wind barrelled through the gully. Maverick raised his puffy red eyes in the direction of the sound. A wagon pulled by a skittish grey horse came into sight. The rain was still beating down in big fat drops. Maverick stood up unsteadily, still clutching his torn shirt in his dilapidated hand. The cart stopped as he staggered into the middle of the road. "Who are you?" Maverick shouted hoarsely to the hooded figure sitting on the wagon's cab. Another, smaller figure jumped off of the wagon and landed with a splash. They jogged down the road towards Maverick and slipped their hood down. A woman stood in front of Maverick. She looked about twenty five years old and, even in the darkness, Maverick could see the bright red curls that was her hair. The woman looked distressed and her blue eyes were open wide. "Please, we need shelter! Tell us where to find a stable!" She asked desperately. Maverick ran his hand through his soaking hair, making the water droplets run down his forearms. He looked her straight in the eyes and wearily suggested, "There's a village nearby, but you don't want to go there." Confusion and desperation flashed across her eyes. Maverick thought he saw a single tear spill down her cheek, but it could have just been the rain. More calmly, she answered, "We don't know this area. Please just show us somewhere. Anywhere will do!" Maverick searched his mind for a short second before replying, "Follow me."
Maverick eased into a jog as he travelled in the direction the wagon had just come from. Slippery mud sloshed everywhere, covering his boots and splashing onto his calves. He turned his head to see if the travellers were following and saw the man on the cab bringing the frazzled horse around. The wagon followed him at a slow pace down the road. Maverick ran as fast as he could in the slosh. His body had heated up dramatically and he could no longer feel the chill of the wind or rain. The light of the full moon peeked out from behind a storm cloud and glinted off every rain drop before it collided with the ground. Maverick could momentarily see his surroundings clearly. The pine trees on either side of him meant that they were close. The icy water streamed down his bare back as he put on a sudden burst of speed. He could not see the hut yet. It should be here…why can't I see it? Maverick worried. Just as maverick was beginning to doubt his sense of direction, the moon peeped out and shone directly on a dilapidated hut.
Maverick gently towelled down the grey filly he now knew to be called Esther. She whinnied softly as he scratched her dappled neck. He turned around to see a boy called Murtagh entering the stable. He was around the same height and build as Maverick, but he was two years younger. The wagon was carrying a lot more people than Maverick had expected. There was the red haired girl, Marion, her younger brothers, Murtagh and Balthazar, their cousin, Lucian, their grandmother, Quinette, and their grandfather, Roran. Roran had been injured badly, Maverick had no clue how, and was inside the hut with the others. He had shown them where the medical supplies were and retreated to the stables to tend to Esther. Murtagh eyed him curiously. His dark hair flopped over his bottle green eyes and he held something in his hand. He thrust it towards Mavericks bare chest and gestured for him to take it. Maverick unfolded it quickly. It was a baggy white shirt, much like the one he had torn to pieces, only this one didn't have a colony seal on it. Maverick slipped it over his head and flexed his arms. It fit perfectly. Just then, a small boy strolled into the room with cool confidence. "I'm Balthazar," he said proudly "and I'm eight years old." He had floppy hair, much like his brother's, only darker. His pale green eyes glinted and he pouted as he exclaimed "They kicked me out!" Murtagh and Maverick laughed at the little boys display.
The sun was just rising as Maverick made his way into the hut. Roran was sitting in an overstuffed armchair, his right arm and shoulder wrapped in an abundance of cloth. Marion slept on the rug, curled up in a little ball. Maverick gently lifted her limp body into his arms. He walked quietly into another room containing four beds. One of them was occupied by Quinette, another by the tiny Balthazar. He carefully placed Marion on the nearest bed and pulled a blanket up to cover her. When he had first seen her, Maverick had thought that she was in her mid-twenties, but now he realised that she was only about eighteen. A hand clamped softly on his shoulder and he turned to see Lucian. His silver-blonde hair glowed in the soft morning light and his blue eyes twinkled with appreciation. He guided Maverick out of the room and explained "We are going to Rhode island, to get medical treatment for Roran. Come with us?" Mavericks only reply was a curt nod.
Warm afternoon light streamed through the windows of the cottage. Maverick sat at the solid wooden table, looking out over the green landscape. It was so beautiful here on Rhode Island. He had been with the travellers for two weeks now and was beginning to get to know the Moore family quite well. Maverick had a blank piece of parchment in front of him and a fancy quill in his hand. He was going to write a letter to his brothers and father, explaining why he had left and that he was safe. He stared at the parchment, but he could not think of what to write. All he could think of was that here, in this cosy cottage on the sunny Rhode Island, with the Moore family, he felt like he truly belonged.