The New Life
a novel by Mark Robert Whitten
Chapter 10
"Jess?"
The voice seemed distant. It was a grating sound, deep and somehow familiar. As Jess felt its grim timbre run through him, he shivered. The voice called out the word again. He really didn't understand its meaning but he understood the tone well enough.
The voice was scared.
"Jess!"
He felt himself being pulled toward that word, that it was somehow important. He couldn't imagine why it mattered but as he felt the fog begin to clear, the voice spoke again, gruff and deep. "Jess, wake up, son, wake up!"
Jess moaned. His head pounded. As he leaned forward, Jess felt as if he might vomit. He felt strong arms holding him and the whispered words spoken from a man he knew was his father. "Jess, son, are you all right?"
Jess' vision blurred. He blinked away the blurriness. A moment passed and the creased face of his father came clear. "Father?" Jess lay back against something hard. "My head," he whispered, "it hurts."
"Easy, Jess." Father held him tight as he spoke, his gruff words coming unusually soft. "Its okay, son, its okay. I'm here. Tell me what happened."
Jess felt the ache in his head ease. He took a deep breath to steady himself.
Then he remembered.
"Leslie!" He shot forward, his father holding him back as he looked about for his friend. "Where is she?"
Father shook his head. "I don't know." He looked about. "Was she here?"
Jess looked around again. He was in the alley, the place where he had knocked down Scott Hoager. Neither he nor Fulcher were anywhere in sight but Jess wasn't relieved by his victory; there was something even more important on his mind.
As Jess scrambled to his feet, his head spun and he nearly fell over. He felt the reassuring arms of his father holding him steady and he regained his balance. Father ran a calloused hand over the back of his head. "You've got a nasty bump," he said. "You been fighting, son?"
Jess nodded. He'd won but the soldiers had taken Leslie. He turned to his father. "They took her, father," he cried, "They took Leslie!"
"Who, son?" his voice was calm as he held him steady. "Who took Leslie?"
"The soldiers," he shouted. "They took her away!"
"It's all right, son," he whispered. "Calm down, calm down, we'll find her."
Jess hardly heard him. All he could think about was that Leslie was gone.
"I know it hurts, Jess, but you've got to keep your head. I'll help you find her."
Jess hugged his father and cried against him. It couldn't be happening. But it was. He knew it was. He forced himself to stop crying and pushed himself away. He wiped his tears and stood up straight. Leslie needed him. He had to find her. He looked about and realized by the length of the shadows and the cool breeze that graced him that dusk approached. He had been unconscious since midday. Leslie had been gone for hours. He didn't even know where to start looking. There were no more tracks to follow and he was sure no one in town would help.
Jess knew they were on their own.
As father took Jess to the wagon he told him that mother was getting worried. He didn't seem angry like he usually did and Jess figured he wasn't in for a whipping this time. He didn't care. He would take ten whippings if Leslie were back with him.
The ride home was incredibly frustrating. He couldn't stop worrying about Leslie. He wanted to start searching for her right away, but Westwood closed its gates after dusk and no one could be tracked in the darkness. They had no choice but to return home and wait for morning. Jess stirred at his food, eating only because he had missed midday meal and later, as Jess lay on his pallet, he thought about losing her. He wondered if he could have done something different. He wondered why they would take her and about all the things she told him. Something occurred to him then. He reached into his pocket and felt the smooth metal of the object Leslie had given him. It was still there.
Jess pulled out the coin.
It was much heavier than he remembered and as he stared at it, the moonlight reflecting off its shiny surface, Jess realized with cold trepidation that it was what they wanted. They had taken Leslie for it and she didn't even have it. Jess knew the single gold coin resting in his palm was worth over forty silver pieces. That was more money than Jess had ever dreamed of having and while he knew that his whole family probably didn't made that much in a year, it all seemed trivial to him now.
Jess couldn't believe the size of the coin. It was so small. Jess wiped at the tears that stung his eyes. He would gladly give the coin back if it would spare his friend, but he knew it was but a feeble daydream. They would never accept the exchange, preferring to hang thieves rather than bargain with them.
His friend would die over a worthless piece of metal.
And it was all his fault.
Tucking away the coin, Jess turned towards the window and thought about Leslie. As he peered into the darkness, he spoke her name in a lonely whisper.
"Leslie… where are you?"
* * * * *
Leslie sighed. There was no escape for her, not this time. She thought she should cry. She had cried all night and most of the previous day and she didn't feel that she had any tears left to shed. She wiped at her dry eyes regardless. Tears wouldn't save her anyway.
As the woodsmoke drifted past, stinging her dry eyes, she thought of everything she had lost: Her friend, her freedom, her beautiful new life. Jess was gone. She would never see him again. She was now on her way back to the castle. She hoped the Duke wouldn't recognize her. She had cut her hair short for that very reason. But it hadn't kept the two from finding her. She still couldn't believe she had been caught. She had been so clever, so careful, and so cunning. Leslie knew she was a smart girl—people often said so—but it seemed that she just wasn't smart enough. She would never be free again. She would never have a friend again. Leslie didn't know what was worst.
Jess, she decided at last. Losing Jess; nothing could be worse than that.
The snap of the fire brought her out of her private thoughts. She could hear the distant call of various birds and the occasional howl of a lonely wolf as she gazed into the predawn gloom. The night was warm and although she wasn't cold, she was tired, sore and filthy and the presence of the bounty hunters made her feel unnerved.
The camp was a secure place, situated in an open field near a small wood. The forest provided for their firewood and small game and despite being too heartbroken to eat anything, Leslie remembered fondly the rabbit stew they had prepared for themselves.
Leslie tried not eating, to starve herself in protest, but her captors took a dim view of her declaration and had stuffed bits of biscuits and dried strips of meat down her throat to show her that they meant to keep her alive for the journey. In a way, their concern made sense; they would receive no bounty if she perished on the journey back to the castle.
Finding their feeding methods unsavory, Leslie promised herself and her new masters that she would partake of breakfast this morning. She knew it was the right decision.
She would need her strength for the road ahead.
Leslie eyed the tents of her captors. The woman made Leslie sleep in her tent with her, to keep an eye on her. Leslie appreciated not being left out in the rain, and suspected, that the woman intended her not to catch an illness. Whether to keep her prize alive and well, or to ease her pain out of a sense of kindness, Leslie wasn't sure; she was simply glad for the tent. As she sat, hunched before the low fire, her eyes slid to the other tent. The one sleeping would soon awaken. The woman, however, wouldn't take her eyes off her, not even for a minute. Leslie rarely had problems making friends with people but in spite of her attempts to make friends with this woman, she still found no connection with her. It was only because the man had spoken her name that Leslie even knew to call her Vasha. Knowing Vasha's name didn't help matters; Leslie had tested that one and failed.
Carefully, she glanced to the horses as they grazed on the soft grasses nearby. They were tethered to an old tree branch and Leslie gave serious thought to stealing one or setting them both loose to create a distraction so she could escape. As she rubbed her shoulder against her dirty cheek, she banished the thoughts. They had ridden for hours when the setting sun and horse's exhaustion finally forced them to stop. Her pursuers had hunted her for half the day before capturing her in Westwood, and although they rode hard the other half to get her back to the castle, they were still days from their destination.
If not for the length of the journey, Leslie was certain that they would already be there. Of course, Leslie's added weight had slowed them considerably but they were still a good six and a half miles from the Aaron's family farm and Westwood.
With her captors setting up camp and darkness descending, Leslie thought she could escape back to the Aarons' farm by sheer speed and determination, taking off as soon as their backs were turned. She was wrong. Vasha was a fit woman, clearly evidenced now by the sleeves shirt she wore. The green garment exposed her tanned, muscular arms, well-toned and a match for her long legs.
In spite of being the fastest runner in all of Westwood, Vasha was quicker and showed Leslie the error of her foolish notion with the aid of a willow switch. Leslie had played with willow switches before, using them as swords in her mock battles with Jess, and she knew from experience how they could be used for punishment. When Vasha was through, Leslie wailed for a long time but her cries for mercy and contrite promises of obedience meant nothing to Vasha and afterward, as Leslie bawled in agony, Vasha sat her down on an old log and promised that she would receive another whipping if she tried anything else. It was then that Leslie realized just how foolish it was to waste her time.
She had no way back to her old life and there was no way of knowing if Jess would even want her back. She cried even harder for the hurt she felt in her heart. As Vasha pulled out a pair of leather thongs and began tying her hands and feet, she gave Leslie a stern warning about her behavior. Leslie nodded her compliance. She wouldn't try to escape again; there was no point.
Now as she watched her captor from across the fire, Leslie rubbed her aching rear. She felt as if her bottom had been held to the flame. It was almost dawn, but her rump still throbbed, making sitting difficult and riding, which she knew was coming, unbearable.
In spite of the pain, she managed to give her captor a warm smile.
The smile was not returned.
As she went back to her private thoughts, Leslie subtly twisted her arms, trying with all her might to break the leather thongs that bound her wrists. She winced as they dug into her already tender flesh. She gave a frustrated sigh and finally surrendered lest she make her arms bleed. She noticed Vasha giving her a curious frown.
"I have an itch," Leslie lied.
The woman rose to her feet. "Where?" Her tone was as cold and impersonal as ever.
"On my nose." She crinkled her face to emphasize the point. Vasha rolled her eyes and came over to scratch it for her. Leslie breathed a sigh when she finished, glad to have avoided any further punishment.
As Vasha walked back to her place opposite the campfire, she snapped a few dry branches and fed them into the flames. They burned brightly and as the fire rose with the sweet scent of balsam, Leslie could feel her stomach grumble. She would be fed again soon, she knew. She hated being fed. It made her feel helpless.
But then, she supposed she was.
Vasha took a stick from the fire, sliding off a few strips of bacon into a wooden bowl. Leslie listened to their sweet sizzle, her mouth already beginning to water. In spite of their feeding method, she still looked forward to having a bellyful of warm food.
A rustle called their attention to the occupied tent and the flap opened a moment later. Bursk stepped out, stretching and giving a great yawn, his demeanor putting Leslie in mind of nothing so much as a great bear coming out of hibernation after a long winter. His barrel chest and massive arms made him seem all the more animal like, but Leslie knew he was a man of good humor, always trying to make Vasha laugh. More often her response was a thrown sack which he would then dodge while laughing at his ability to provoke her. Leslie knew that things weren't as they seemed, and that when Bursk turned away, Vasha allowed a small smile to grace her lips. Leslie never told Bursk about the small smile, not wanting to give Vasha reason to whip her again but she was at least glad someone could bring some cheer to the serious woman. Bursk seemed a brother to her, but Leslie thought perhaps they were married instead. She was afraid to ask. The sight of Bursk being awake though, reminded Leslie that it would be time to leave soon.
He scratched his thick black stubble and ambled over to the fire, squatting down next to Vasha. Leslie squirmed as his dark eyes fell on her.
"She give you any trouble?"
"No," Vasha said. "It was a quiet night."
Leslie wanted to thank the woman for her consideration. She didn't think it was for her, though; Vasha didn't want to give the man an excuse to challenge her authority. Leslie found the woman unreasonable at times, but she much preferred her to Bursk.
Bursk yawned so big Leslie could see all his teeth. She felt as if she were looking into the maw of a great bear again. "I'm going to wash up," Bursk said. "Keep her tied when you feed her," he added, pointing to Leslie, "Cause if she gets away, we get no gold."
Vasha nodded while keeping her eyes on Leslie the whole time. The smell of bacon had filled the morning air. Vasha slid strips into a steaming bowl of beans and stood.
Leslie swallowed hard as she watched her approach.
It was time to be fed.
Leslie consoled herself with the fact that she at least wouldn't be hungry anymore.
She only hoped Jess was so well fed.
* * * * *
Jess' stomach growled. He was starving but there was nothing he could do about it. As he wiped the sweat off his brow, he stifled a yawn. He had gone home that night sick with worry and hardly gotten any sleep because of it. When he did sleep his dreams were haunted by visions of his best friend's torment and the grim look of her captors.
He often awoke in a cold sweat, calling her name and didn't dare allow himself to fall back to sleep.
They had set out at dawn to find her. Jess wanted to ask everyone they saw where she had been taken but father calmed him by suggesting they visit the Administrator's manor house. The manor stood on a hill on the opposite side of town, near the temple. It was the biggest building in town, aside from the temple, and served as the home of the Administrator's family. The business of the town was done there, from criminal trials to land disputes, to trade agreements. Jess' family didn't have business there often, but when there was need, Jess mercifully wasn't brought with them.
It was different this time. He had to go into the manor house himself and see the Administrator in person. Jess really didn't fancy the idea of going anywhere near the imposing structure, but he knew they had no choice; if Leslie was still in town, they would either have her or know where she was being held.
Now, as he stood within the great house, feeling the cool surface of the gold coin as he fingered it inside his pocket, his worry subsided. He had brought the gold and would present it to the Administrator, then bargain for Leslie's freedom.
Jess kept his hand on it at all times. He couldn't afford to lose it; it was his only hope.
As they waited in line, Jess looked around, absently scanning the throng. There were people standing around, like him, some gathered in small groups, some staring silently at nothing, others engaged in hushed conversation. The press of people added to the heat. Everyone looked tired or dirty and many looked bored, as if they had something better to do. Most of the people were adults, some with small children—none Leslie's age. There were even a few elderly people and some youngsters who seemed to be halfway to adulthood. Jess wondered who they had lost to give them cause to come to this awful place.
He also noticed the small groups of soldiers standing around. They looked as big as the ones who had taken Leslie and just as mean. None were the ones he had seen and their clothes looked different, cleaner. Their faces were just as grim though and the way they watched people made him think they were used to dealing with trouble. As they made their way through the sparse crowds, Jess noticed that many of the people were standing in a line leading up to an old wooden desk at the other side of the room. Through quiet tones, he was able to determine the identity of the person everyone was there to meet. No name was given directly; people seemed to refer to him only as "the administrator."
The name sounded sinister to him and conjured up images of a terrifying man in night- black robes with a scowl that could bend iron. Jess worked to steady himself; if that were true, then he would just have to be made of steel. He had to save Leslie.
Between gaps in the line, he could see a woman of his mother's age and thin build sitting behind the old desk. The title of administrator didn't seem to fit with the image of the kind-looking woman as she issued orders and gently directed the staff that rushed about her. Jess assumed she must be in charge of the place, judging by the way everyone seemed to defer to her direction.
As they drew closer, Jess looked around for any sign of Leslie. He kept his eyes forward the closer they came, knowing he would have his chance soon. The administrator woman didn't notice him yet and as they moved along, the press of people keeping them packed in place, Jess caught sight of several errand boys running things to her from the rooms beyond the desk. Jess was surprised to see that there were boys his own age, some a little older, some younger, taking stacks of papers to and fro and trying desperately not to drop them as they staggered from room to room.
Jess recognized the boys as her slaves.
He felt his stomach tighten at the thought of being snatched up by the guards and taken into one of those mysterious back rooms, being made to wear one of those silly-looking servant outfits and rushing stacks of papers back and forth to his new mistress till he dropped dead from exhaustion. He knew that all it would take was for the administrator to point her finger at him and say "that one" and the guards would pounce on him and haul him away.
His father's presence was unusually comforting. Jess knew nothing bad could happen to him as long as his father was there. Something bad had happened to Leslie, though, something awful. He didn't know what it was, but he was about to find out.
As they approached the front of the line, Jess trembled; he knew he couldn't do this without Leslie. He also knew he had to try or his friend was doomed.
Jess watched with nervous anticipation as the last couple in front of him finally left. They thanked the administrator before being led away by one of the boys. Jess couldn't fathom why anyone would thank the ruler of such a terrifying place, but the young couple smiled as they were led away. Jess suspected they were happy to be leaving and realized it was probably best to show courtesy to the powerful woman behind the desk, lest they displease her and end up as slaves.
Still, it was hard to be brave in the face of such a challenge.
Leslie had taught him to be brave. How he wished Leslie was there with him now.
The administrator scribbled something down in her book and looked up as he finally stepped forward. He held his breath as the powerful-looking woman stared into his eyes.
She waited a moment, as if considering what to do with him.
"Name?" she absently asked.
Jess blinked. Her voice was not at all harsh, as he had expected, but it still carried a clear ring of authority that made him fidget. Jess felt his father prod him from behind. He suddenly realized what she meant. "L-Leslie," Jess stuttered. He tried to remember the name Leslie used before she took the name Aarons. It came to him then. "Leslie Wilkins."
The woman looked him over and smirked. "You don't look like a 'Leslie,' young man."
A moment passed before he could respond. "Ma'am…?" He didn't understand.
She pointed her wooden-handled pen at him. "You're name is Leslie, then, little boy?"
The woman's smirk made his face heat. He frowned. His gaze darted to the large-armed guards to each side of the woman behind the desk. He shifted his weight as their stern gazes suddenly fell upon him. The sound of whispering behind him reminded Jess that he was at the head of a long line. Slave-boys continued adding stacks of papers and ink wells to the desk before rushing away, Jess stood still as he watched them go.
After a moment, he heard the woman calling him to attention.
"Your name is Leslie, then, young man?"
Jess shifted his weight again and tried not to look at the woman. "N-no ma'am; Leslie's my friend." He gestured to one of the guards. "She was taken by soldiers."
The woman looked over her shoulder. Jess could barely see the grim-looking soldier shake his head dismissively. The woman looked back to Jess and began thumbing through her ledger. She flipped through it and scanned each page with her finger. "Wilkins," she muttered, as she went page by page. "Wilkins…" After a time, she looked up and folded her hands atop the book. "No one named Leslie or Wilkins was brought to me, young man." Her frown deepened then and the look she had made Jess take an involuntary step backward. "And we take a very dim view of liars."
Jess swallowed hard. He felt his anger rising at being called a liar, but the feeling was engulfed in his fear of this woman. He knew he was headed for the slave cages. Images of what they do to liar-slaves danced through his mind, making him sweat.
A stern voice from behind started him out of his fearful daydream; he had forgotten his father was with him. "And I take a dim view of people calling my son a liar."
The sound of his father's deep, grating voice was surprisingly comforting; like the sight of an old foe suddenly come to his rescue. Jess never thought he would be so glad to hear such a sound. The woman looked up at his father and back to him. "Let's start over." She went back to her ledger. "Name," she asked.
"Lesl—"
"Your name," she clarified.
"I-I'm Jess, Ma'am—Jess Aarons."
As the administrator scribbled something in her book, Jess repeated his answer.
"Leslie," he said. "My friend's name is Leslie Wilkins."
"Yes," the woman muttered, "I heard you." She sighed deeply and flipped through the ledger book again. She stopped a moment and fixed her brown eyes on him. "You say soldiers took your friend?" Jess nodded. "When did this happen?"
"Yesterday afternoon," he replied, relieved that she seemed to believe him.
The woman flipped through the ledger again, scanning each page with her finger. She shook her head. "No one was brought in to me with that name."
Jess felt his hopes sink but it suddenly dawned on him that there was something he had forgotten. He stuffed his hand into his pocket and pulled out the coin. He placed the gold on the desk before the ledger. "My friend's a thief," he explained. The woman showed no reaction to his confession. "She stole this coin and a lot more." The woman raised her eyebrows at that admission, but she seemed unimpressed by the gold.
Jess felt his father's powerful hand grip his shoulder. He tried to resist his father's pull, wanting to keep an eye on the gold, but found himself spun about to face him. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"
Father seemed more hurt than angry and his weathered face held a tenderness Jess had rarely seen directed at him. "I-I just found out yesterday, father." His eyes found the floor. "I-I was afraid to tell you."
Jess still didn't meet his father's gaze. The administrator's voice turned him around. "Thief or not, there is no one named Leslie or Wilkins listed in my ledger, young man."
Jess turned a hot glare on her. His heart pounded. They had come all this way to save her and now he was being told there was no Leslie to save. His fists tightened at his sides as he tried to remain calm. It wasn't easy. "You're wrong," he whispered. "Leslie's my friend. Soldiers took her away."
She seemed to consider a moment, and then she snapped her fingers. One of the slave-boys immediately rushed up to the side of her desk. "Michael, please bring me the reports of yesterday's activities, the ones from the gate guards."
Michael bowed and rushed off, the administrator returned her attention to Jess. "Where did she steal the coin?"
The administrator's question threw him. He thought a moment. "The castle."
"Castle?" the woman asked. "What castle?"
"The castle, where she used to work."
Father grunted. Jess ignored the gruff sound; he knew he still had a lot of explaining to do and it would probably be followed by a whipping. But he didn't care. He just wanted Leslie back. The administrator plucked up the coin, testing the weight. It seemed as if she were weighing the truth of his words as well. Michael returned with a small stack of papers and set them on the desk. He bowed again before rushing off. The administrator set down the coin and pulled the papers in front of her. As she leafed through them, Jess kept his eyes on the coin; he didn't want to lose it. As the woman searched the documents, she paused on one and set the others aside. "Yes. It seems that the guards at the gate stopped a pair of travelers as they attempted to leave the main gate." She seemed to be talking to herself as her eyes scanned the parchment. "They had a girl with them, no name given but she seemed about your age." Jess heart leapt as she continued to read the report. "She was trying to escape them, yelling something about being kidnapped. The guards checked their papers—" She stopped suddenly, her face tight with concern. "Oh. Oh, I see..."
"What?" Jess couldn't stand the suspense. "What is it?"
"It seems the two at the gate had permission from the Duke himself to remove her from town." She shook her head and muttered to herself. "No wonder they didn't bring her to me." Folding her arms over the papers she leaned towards him. "If she stole from the Duke then it's out of my hands. I'm sorry," she said simply. "Your friend is gone."
Jess stood stunned. He couldn't accept her words, her explanation. Leslie couldn't be gone. She just couldn't. He fought to hold back the tears as they struggled to creep out.
"But we could go and get her…" His words were forced, a desperate plea against her judgment. "I-If we talk to the Duke, then maybe we could give his money back and he would let her go?"
The woman stared at the coin on her desk. She seemed to be considering the argument. "Well, young man, it's a long way—"
"How long?" Jess asked leaning forward with the sense of desperate hope rekindled.
The woman pointed. "The Duke's castle is in Millsburg, a large city about fifty miles south of here—a few days ride." Jess listened carefully, lest he miss a precious detail. "If you start now and follow the river, you should be able to make it there without much trouble." She slid the coin across the table. "I've heard that Duke William is a kind man, but I don't know that he would take kindly to your friend's thievery. He may not be happy to see you."
Jess plucked up the coin and stuffed it back into his pocket. He felt tears welling at the unexpected hope but his father's strong hand on his shoulder stopped him from crying. "Its okay, son," he whispered, "We'll get her back."
Jess stared up at his father in disbelief. Until now he had always assumed his father resented Leslie's presence; now he was telling him not to give up and promising to help him find her. Father looked to the administrator. "Thank you." He reached into his pocket for a coin of his own. It was copper, of course. "For your help," he told her, passing it across the table.
She handed it back, shaking her head. "You'll need it more than I."
The administrator gestured and one of the servant boys led them down a hall and out a side door. Jess thanked her and as they headed out he glanced back at all the people still waiting in line and wondered how the woman could ever finish all her work in a single day. He often wondered how he could finish all his chores in a day, but there seemed to be no end in sight for the poor administrator. Jess felt a pang of sorrow for her; he had believed she was the Mistress of this place, but when he looked back at her now, sitting behind her desk, he saw only a helpless prisoner.
The thought conjured in him an unexpected image of Leslie. She was a prisoner too.
Jess heaved a despondent sigh. The day had been very confusing. He had entered intent on finding Leslie, only to have his hopes dashed and raised in quick succession by a woman he had once considered the supreme authority, which he now saw only as a slave to her duty. Jess sighed again at the silliness of the world.
His thoughts returned to Leslie; he still hadn't found her. He had come with hope of having her returned but now he had learned that she was farther away than he would have ever believed.
And he still wasn't entirely sure she was safe.
For all he knew, she could be in a dungeon somewhere, being tortured or beaten and wondering why he wasn't coming to save her.
They had to leave right away.
As soon as they reached home, Jess rushed into the house. He ignored his mother's insistent questions and snatched up the old sack Leslie had brought the first day they met. He stuffed some apples and pears into it and even added some vegetables.
As father walked in, Jess quickly positioned the ladder and scrambled up. His clothes were near his pallet and he found the book resting on his pillow. He picked them up and stuffed them into the sack. He wasn't sure why, but he thought he might need the book. He heard his father's voice telling mother what happened at the manor house. She said something he couldn't make out; it sounded like a question but he didn't give it any thought. He guessed she had asked where they were going now. He didn't lose time listening for father's reply, simply started for the ladder again.
When he climbed down, father looked to him and asked if he was ready to go. He slung the sack over his shoulder and nodded. Mother came over to him and handed him a package. Jess took it and gave her a questioning look.
"It's for Leslie," she said. "She might need something nice to wear."
Jess understood. Mother had given him the dress they had made, the pretty blue one she had worn to the festival. He clutched the package to his chest and hugged his mother gratefully, the tears threatening to come again.
Father's voice called to him and Jess flew out the door. They were on the road in minutes.
Jess had always wanted to travel, but he never thought he would be going to save a friend. As the wagon bounced down the road, he slipped his fingers into his pocket and felt the reassuring presence of the coin. He would give it back to the Duke and hope the man would accept it in exchange for Leslie. He hoped it was enough. He really didn't think the angry Duke would value Leslie more than the price of a single gold coin, but Jess valued her more than all the gold in the world.
They stopped by their neighbors, the Perkins and after explaining their recent troubles, exchanged their oxen-drawn wagon for the Perkins' horse-drawn wagon. Jess knew that with the large draft horses pulling them, they would make better time.
Their first day of travel was bright as the wind blew through the trees, cooling Jess and his father, they made their way south alongside the Dundry river. Jess watched the road ahead, telling himself they would reach the castle and he would save Leslie. He tried not to consider all the terrible things they might do to her in the meantime.
Against his will, his mind slipped back to all the things Leslie told him about her time there, about how she had no friends.
Jess had been her only friend. She needed him now as much as he had ever needed her. He wouldn't let her down. There were other people out on the road, travelers, soldiers and even some vagrants but Jess hardly noticed them as they rolled along. His thoughts were bent forward, always to the horizon and while he hoped they would reach the distant city of Millsburg before sunset, he knew in his heart they wouldn't.
The daylight was fading and Jess knew they would have to stop for the night.
Jess didn't know about nobles but he didn't want to trust Leslie's life to their charity. The best chance they had was to save her from the soldiers before they reached the Duke.
But Jess also knew that they would have to catch them first.
"Dear Gods," he whispered into the gathering darkness, "please, slow them down."