Angry Boy Chapter 3
Bredin carefully drew the beveler along the lines of the skirting panel.
Count Wyeth had commissioned a saddle for his son Kensie. The saddle was to fit the stallion that the Count had bought his son for Kensie's twelfth birthday. Horse and saddle would be presented together in ten days' time.
Bredin's father Enro had seen the commission as recognition of his skill as a master leatherworker. A successful design would lead to more commissions from the Count and the nobles who clustered around him.
Bredin worked diligently at the pattern, despite his dislike of the recipient. Bredin did not understand why the Poldara Heir was being given the use of the Baronial Arms six years before the young lord was entitled to them.
Bredin told himself his disapproval was strictly on the grounds of legal right, not because he personally despised Kensie Poldara.
Bredin was not the only person who despised the young snot. Lord Kensie and his friends made a point of tormenting everyone of lesser rank. The band of young lords had earned themselves the epithet "the popinjays", though no one called them that to their faces. Because Bredin was close at hand when Kensie and his friends were in residence at Bransat House, he was a favorite target.
Bredin could be counted on to boil over and lash out at Kensie's taunts, giving the lordling an excuse to beat Bredin for his 'insolence.' No one seemed to care that Bredin was four years younger than Kensie.
Bredin particularly resented the way his father would thrash him afterwards for 'disrespecting his betters'.
Asen and Raidal, Bredin's brothers, also took delight in getting a rise out of Bredin, teasing the middle boy until he took a swing at one or the other. Asen, older and bigger, could easily outfight Bredin. Raidal, two years younger, would run to their mother when Bredin took after him and Zelar would tan Bredin's backside for 'bullying.'
His brothers' teasing was limited, though. If their torments were too obvious, they would be punished along with Bredin.
For now, Bredin concentrated on his father's design. He took pride in the fact he was better than Asen at accurately tooling the leather. Asen was three years older and had been helping his father that much longer; the elder son's goading was partly driven by jealousy.
Bredin finished the curve and put the beveler down. He touched the leather with a cloth to moisten it a bit more. He reached for his pear stamp. His hand fell on an empty space in the rack.
Bredin looked around. Raidal was playing with the pear stamp, twisting it around his fingers.
"Raid, give me that." Bredin growled at his brother.
"No." Raidal smiled impudently.
Bredin grabbed for the stamp, but Raidal jumped back out of reach. Bredin tackled his brother and the two fell to the floor, knocking the workbench over as they went down. Tools and pieces of leather fell around them.
The two boys rolled on the floor. Bredin flailed at Raidal. His brother swung back. The stamp, still gripped in Raidal's hand scratched Bredin's cheek.
Bredin gripped Raidal's arm and slammed it down over the leg of the fallen workbench. Raidal screamed as his forearm broke.
Bredin stopped, staring in horror at what he had done.
A hand gripped Bredin's collar and pulled him off of his brother.
"You little bastard. Look what you've done." Enro shouted at Bredin. He shook Bredin hard, then flung him aside before turning to Raidal, who still wailed on the floor.
"Raid started it…" Bredin began.
"Shut up." Enro said. "I'll deal with you later." He lifted Raidal in his arms and headed towards the door.
Zelar, drawn by Raidal's screams came in. Seeing the boy in Enro's arms, she hurried to her husband.
"Bredin broke his arm." Was Enro's only explanation. Zelar shot at poisonous look at her middle son as the two adults hurried out the door to the Masran Sisters' Temple. There were two full Healers among the Masrans as well as several ungifted sisters with training in caring for the sick.
Bredin picked himself up off the floor. He looked around at the scattered tools and pieces of leather. His cheek had begun to sting and he dabbed at it with his cloth. It felt wet. He looked at the cloth. It was stained with blood. Bredin wiped the blood off as best he could, but he could still feel it dripping.
Asen stared at him from the other side of the shop. "You're in for it now, Bred." He smirked at his brother before turning back to his stitching.
Bitterly, Bredin had to agree. With a sigh, he righted the bench and started picking things up while holding the cloth over the cut on his cheek.
Bredin found the piece of skirting. It was stained with blood. Bredin hurried to the pump and poured water onto the leather, but the blood had soaked into the grain. The damage was irreparable.
Bredin walked out of the shop and around to the back. He squeezed into the narrow space between the storage shed and Ilis Pedden's chicken coop. Bredin sat on the ground, wrapped his arms around his knees and wept.
The sun was setting when Enro found Bredin. "Come out of there." Enro said. Bredin did not look up.
Enro grabbed his son's collar and hauled him out of his hiding place. The boy fell on the ground in front of Enro. In his other hand, Enro held a heavy leather strap. He walloped Bredin on the face with the strap, reopening the cut on Bredin's cheek.
Bredin yelped and covered his face with his arms as Enro hit him again. After the third blow, Bredin rolled over and curled into a ball. Enro continued to belabor his son with the strap.
"That's enough, Enro." Zack Pedden said. Enro continued to beat Bredin, who cried out with each blow.
The blows stopped. "I said that is enough, Enro."
Bredin looked up beneath his arm to see their neighbor holding Enro's arm. Beyond Zack Pedden, his two sons, Marin and Bennis were staring wide-eyed.
"Stay out of this, cripple. He is my son, not yours." Enro spat at his neighbor.
Zack Pedden's lips tightened. "I may have a club foot, but I am strong enough to hold you. I won't stand here and watch you murder your son."
"Do you know what this little bastard did?" Enro's lips had flecks of foam as he stared at Zack.
"He broke his brother's arm." Zack said quietly. "That does not warrant killing him. Half the boys in this town have broken an arm or leg at one time or another, many of them in fights with their brothers."
"That's not all. He ruined an important piece of work. I'll barely have time to fix it before the Count comes for the saddle." Enro said, struggling to free his arm from Zack's grip. Zack was a carpenter, his arms were very strong and Enro could not break loose. "Let go of my arm, the brat is going to get the beating he deserves."
Zack looked into Enro's eyes. "You have beaten him enough. I will not let go of your arm until you drop that strap." He shook Enro's arm to emphasize his point.
Enro stared back angrily for a moment before letting go of the strap. Zack released him. Enro bent to pick up the strap.
"If you hit him again, now or later in your house, I will lay a complaint of child abuse before the next Herald that comes through this town." Zack said. Enro looked hard at his neighbor. The threat was not idle. Lying as it did on the main road from Haven to Poldara, Bransat saw Heralds passing through two or three times a sennight.
Frowning, Enro looked down at Bredin. "Get up." He growled.
Fearful and weeping, Bredin got to his feet. Pain shot through his back, arms and legs with each movement. Blood flowed from a dozen points where the strap had cut him.
Bredin looked around. Asen and Raidal, the latter with his arm in a sling, stood watching. Both looked terrified. None of them had ever seen their father so enraged. His mother looked at him with an odd mix of anger and concern. She was still upset by Raidal's injury, but she had not expected her husband to punish Bredin so savagely.
"I'm sorry, Raid." Bredin said to his younger brother.
"You should be." Zelar said. She turned and walked into the house. Asen and Raidal followed her. Enro, after another black look at Bredin, went in as well. Bredin limped painfully behind his family.
Zelar sent Bredin to the pump, where he painfully cleaned the blood and dirt from his head and arms. Afterwards, Enro banished Bredin from the table and sent him to the storage shed for the night. Bredin tried to sleep on the sacks, but every part of his body ached. He tossed and turned through the night.
In the morning, Bredin pulled himself to his feet and painfully made his way to the table. His bruised muscles had stiffened in the night. Every move was agony.
Still angry, Enro stared at his son. "You've made a fine mess of things."
Once again, Bredin protested that Raidal had taken the tool he needed.
"That is no excuse." Enro cut him off. "I can't have a helper in my shop who is going to wreck it every time he loses his temper.
"You are forbidden ever to go into the shop again."
Bredin stared at his father. "But I was only half done the skirting…" He began.
Enro slapped his son's face. "And now it has to be done over completely, thanks to you.
"I will be very lucky if I can get the saddle done by the time Count Poldara calls for it. I am going to have to work day and night. I don't want to see you."
Tears sprang to Bredin's eyes. "What will I do?" He asked. Dreams of Heraldic Glory aside, he had thought he would succeed his father in the shop because he was so much better at the work than Asen.
"You can help your mother around the house and yard. She can use a hand. Never come into my shop again." Enro got to his feet and went out the door.
Bredin watched his father march over to the shop. He looked around the table. Asen smirked at him. Raidal looked shocked.
Zelar broke the silence. "The three of you get off to school. If you don't hurry, you will be late."
Although all three boys had been helping in their father's shop since they were six, they still had their morning classes. Asen and Raidal got to their feet, grabbed their coats and hurried off.
Bredin looked at his mother. Zelar looked away. Bredin began to gather the plates. "I will do that. You go to school." Zelar still did not look at her son.
Bredin limped painfully off to the school. He was late, the last to arrive. Brother Manas Gibault, the instructor for those in their eighth year, looked at Bredin. His eyes flashed to the bruises and cuts on Bredin's face and arms. Brother Manas waved Bredin to his seat. Tag and Rhys, along with the rest of Bredin's classmates looked at Bredin's bruises and nodded knowingly.
Bredin enjoyed his classes. Reading and sums came easily to him and he was ahead of his age group. If Father Toma had not been adamant that all boys the same age be taught together, Bredin would be learning with the boys two years older and might hope to join the few students who continued their lessons beyond the mandatory age of twelve.
Brother Manas did not try to keep Bredin back with his contemporaries and assigned him different books. He encouraged the boy to study harder. He had even begun to teach the boy Karsite. The Brothers of the Iron God thought it important to know how their enemies thought; as Karse was Valdemar's worst enemy, they emphasized Karsite in their language classes.
Half a candlemark before noon, Father Toma came into the room. Pointing at Bredin, he said "You, come with me." The other boys smirked as Bredin limped after the priest.
Bredin arrived at Father Toma's office. The priest was already seated behind his desk.
Today, his expression was grave as he looked at Bredin, who stood in front of him. Father Toma did not invite the boy to sit.
"Close the door." The priest ordered. Bredin did so and turned back.
"Tell me what happened." Father Toma demanded. He did not need to say what he was asking about.
Bredin told Father Toma how he had fought with Raidal and broken his arm. He admitted he had lost his temper and attacked his brother. Bredin finished by telling how he had spoiled the leather skirting by getting blood on it.
Father Toma stared at Bredin for a long time after the boy finished. He had heard the story from others already. He noted that Bredin made no excuse for what he had done and had not even mentioned Raidal taunting him with the tool. The only good thing that the priest could see in the mess was that Bredin accepted his own responsibility for what had happened. He also noted that Bredin left out the beating he had received from his father.
"Why did you get mad at Raidal?" Father Toma wanted Bredin to tell his side of it fully.
Bredin closed his eyes and looked down. "He took my pear stamp." Bredin's voice was almost inaudible.
The boy's shame was so palpable that Father Toma hated to ask his next question. "Was that worth breaking his arm?"
Since Bredin had spent most of the night obsessing over that very question, his answer was prompt. "No. I could have ignored him. I could have walked away. I could have done anything else." Bredin burst into tears.
Father Toma stood and went over to the side table. Wetting a cloth from the pitcher, he went to Bredin and wiped the tears off Bredin's face. "That is true." He said. "So what will you do the next time?"
Bredin's answer shocked the priest. "There won't be a next time. Papa told me I can never go in the shop again."
Father Toma covered his surprise by walking slowly back around the desk and taking his seat once more. Knowing Enro's tendency to carry grudges, Father Toma had no doubt that the banishment was permanent.
The priest stared at the boy for a moment before quietly telling him to go back to his class.
After Bredin had gone, Toma stared at the door for a long time. How could something be salvaged from this mess?