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Rattay had never looked more mesmerising, Henry decided, while looking down the hill. Up from Pirkstein’s walls, he gazed at the trees which were plated in gold. The river below was sparkling with warm and welcoming ripples. The sun will set soon, abandoning her golden work for the night.
“Gorgeous…” Henry whispered.
“Indeed,” a familiar voice answered. Hans?
Henry turned to his side, meeting the noble’s eyes and chuckling softly.
“You’ve hardly even looked, m’lord!”
“Oh, I wasn’t talking about some petty landscape, dear Henry,” Capon smirked, leaning closer to the peasant.
Henry found himself stumbling over his words as he answered next.
“How… how so?”
“I have something worthy of the greatest ballads right here,” he murmured, cupping Henry’s cheek.
What is happening?!
“I’m sorry Hal, I had to tell him,” came a third voice from behind. Almost sounded like… Theresa?
Henry turned to the spectator. That’s… Capon’s horse?!
“Should’ve known better than to trust a horse with your darkest secrets! They love gossip!” Hans laughed.
“He’s right, y’know. I couldn’t help myself!” the horse-Theresa laughed and neighed along.
Christ, I have truly lost it.
“Now, brave knight,” Hans tried to get his attention back from the horse by turning Hal’s face to himself. “Sweep me off my feet already!”
“No! That is sin of the worst kind!” shouted a voice from the sky. God… or Hanush?
“Oh bollocks! What do you know?!” his lord shouted at the sky before wrapping his arms around Henry’s neck. The sky rumbled with thunder.
Oh God. What is this?!
Hal!
Who… is calling me?
Hal!
It’s not the horse… or God.
Hal!
•••
“Hal! You’re oversleeping!”
Henry opened his eyes, unsure of what he was about to see this time. Above him Theresa was giving him the look, similar to his mother's when he was late to the forge yet again. A silent scolding of sorts.
Thank God you’re not a horse, he thought silently.
“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly.
“Had a pleasant dream?” she teased. “You’re flushed all over!”
“Yes- no! No! It was a nightmare!” he exclaimed, sitting up quickly.
“So defensive!” she giggled. “Alright, I won’t pry. I left some porridge for you. I know you’re always famished.”
“That’s not true…” Henry denied, however his stomach begged to differ. The loud growl made him burn with even more embarrassment.
Theresa was laughing now.
“Alright, you can stop pointing fingers!” he got up, feigning anger. The illusion was broken by his own grin.
“Grab a bite and meet me outside, Henry of Starve-itz!” Theresa pinched his cheek before turning to the door.
“You’re horrible!” he groaned and rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the fond smile spreading on his face.
•••
Having finished eating, Henry stepped outside. Mutt barked and ran up to him, tail wagging. He scratched behind the dog’s ears before walking over to Theresa. She was sitting in her usual spot on the bench, mending some cloth Henry didn’t recognize right away.
Hans’ shirt.
“I’m almost done, just a few stitches.”
“You’re fixing it?”
“Well, after what happened yesterday, the shirt… Wasn’t in the best condition.”
“That’s putting it lightly!” Henry chuckled.
“I know. I wasn’t sure what to do when you left with him… So I laundered it the best I could. The night was warm, it dried quickly."
“And the stitching?”
“It’s just a small rip on the seam. Nothing noticeable if mended well,” she explained with the final stitch, cutting the thread. “All done and ready for his lordship.”
“You think he really misses it?”
“Of course not, Hal. He’s a noble who can afford enough shirts to dress all of Rattay twice. But… I don’t want him to think we just took it.”
“Trying to change the word about millers, are we?” he joked. Theresa smiled, seemingly amused.
“But of course! Saving grace, one disgusting shirt at a time!” she folded the shirt, handing it to him dramatically. “The linen is much finer than what we wear, so it’s best we return it, lest some nosy neighbour notices.”
“Alright. Thank you, Theresa. I owe you.”
“Yes you do,” she grinned again, hands on her hips. “Now off you go!”
Before Henry could finally be on his way, Theresa called after him again.
“Oh, Hal! If it’s not too rude, could you ask for your shirt back? You haven’t got many, and I can’t have you walking around in torn rags, can I?”
“Alright, I’ll get it back,” he nodded. “If he has it still, that is.”
•••
The trip to Rattay felt quite odd. Not because Henry encountered anything strange on the way, no. What he thought about, however, was a different story. Bits and flashes of his dream plagued his conscience. The part with Hanush-God screaming at his nephew while he clung to Henry like a smitten maiden was especially vivid. Christ, should I feel guilty? Not like I can choose what to dream, he tried to justify himself silently.
“Oi lad, watch where yer goin’!”
“Sorry!” Henry barely stepped out of the stranger’s way in time. Henry paid no mind to the man’s further complaints as his mind was completely preoccupied still. The sight of the city gates so close made him snap out of it. When did I get here?
Upon passing through the gates, he turned to his right. Though nearing it, Henry had never wanted to be further away from Pirkstein. Stepping into the inner courtyard, the boy glanced up briefly. Something about the few clouds hanging above his head felt ominous. One of the darker ones formed a familiar shape - a certain noble with a beard. Hanush? Sakra, even the sky reminds me of that nightmare!
Henry wanted to get this over with, but was then informed by a servant girl that Sir Capon had apparently already left for the tavern.
Here we go again.
•••
Taverns were mostly empty during the first half of the day, since most of Rattay citizens had real responsibilities and had no time for day drinking. Hans Capon had responsibilities too, of course. He simply chose not to acknowledge them.
Which of the two taverns Hans decided to spend his evening with was clear enough - a horse in a bright yellow caparison was recognizable to any who passed.
Henry hesitated passing the small tavern gate. The horse snorted in his direction, as if greeting the peasant.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Hal whispered. “I’m watching you, you know. Don’t you dare gossip-”
“Hey! Henry’s come to see us!” a painfully familiar laugh interrupted Henry’s threats. “What the bloody hell are you doing?”
“Good day, Sir Capon!” Henry jumped. “I was just, erm. Passing by.”
Hans chuckled at that. He’s drunk, Henry realised.
“Ah, I see. And that includes talking to my horse, does it?” the lord questioned, with his eyebrow raised.
“I was just… exchanging pleasantries?” Henry shrugged, growing a little nervous as Hans started laughing even louder.
“Jesus, Henry! You’re a complete simpleton!” he squeezed in between his barks of laughter, rummaging through the satchels attached to the horse’s saddle. “Come now, join us! The lads are going to love you.”
Henry eyed the pouch of coin the young lord pulled out. How did no one rob you, you idiot? He glanced at the tavern tables outside, noting a group of questionable-looking burghers watching Hans very closely and impatiently.
“Actually, I only came to give you this.” Henry held out the folded shirt. The noble scoffed, eyeing the garment with minimal interest.
“A rag?” he said, disappointed. “Perhaps this is common to your kind, but nobles have no need for such… generosity.”
Henry heard the so-called lads rumble with laughter and felt a sting in his heart. This Hans was different from the one he met first, and even more so from who his subconscious had conjured last night.
“M’lord, this is your shirt. It’s laundered and mended. Please,” he tried handing him the shirt again.
“If it smells anything like the one you lended me, I’d rather pass,” he jested again, looking back at his pals for approval. “You peasants may like smelling like cattle, but I have no desire to!”
Henry was beginning to lose his patience. So this is what you’re really like? What a fool I was to think otherwise…
“Sir. I assure you, that shirt was freshly laundered too. That’s just the smell of ordinary soap,” he explained with a strained voice. “And since you mentioned it, I need it back. My shirt, I mean. Please.”
“You think I hold on to such things? I am a nobleman, for crying out loud! Forget that wretched thing,” he answered mockingly, before continuing. “Keep this one, if you must. Unless you enjoy running after Radzig bare-assed!” Hans grinned, with a mischievous glint in his eye.
The table of observers was now creaking from their fists, loud laughter ringing in Henry's ears.
God, I want to wipe that smirk off your face.
“Have a good day, sir!” Henry pushed the shirt to Hans’ chest with greater force than he expected to. The lord stumbled back a bit, his breath escaping his lungs in a short huff.
Henry stomped away, heading towards the training grounds just outside the town walls. Hans stood and watched as if nailed to the ground. The sudden absence of Henry made the attention of his peers feel less than worthless.
•••
Captain Bernard knew that the young boy Sir Radzig sent to him had potential from the very beginning. That being said, the lad still had a lot to learn in the way of the sword. Which is why the captain was taken aback today - the blacksmith’s son fought with vigor Bernard has only seen in the heat of great battles. Had he not been an experienced soldier himself, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.
They trained for long hours, until the sun was hanging low and Bernard called it off.
“That will be enough for today, lad!”
“But sir, I’m not… Not tired!” Henry lied, panting like a dog.
“I’m not blind nor deaf, boy. You’re about to collapse!” he scolded him. “Enthusiasm is one thing, but you’re pushing it too far.”
“But-”
“I said no,” Bernard shook his head. “What has gotten into you anyway? You went berserk. One more training session and we’ll need new equipment!”
Henry took off his helmet, his hair stuck together and dripping with sweat. He stood there silently, before realising the captain’s question had been serious.
“Nothing, sir.”
“You don’t fool me, Henry. Had a fight with a lady-friend, have you?”
Hal’s heart dropped. Had he not been flushed from the training already, he sure would be now.
“What? No! Nothing of the sort!” he tried to beat the accusation.
“Right,” Bernard answered, not believing him for a second. “Well, you better sort it out before training with me again. You must learn to control yourself if you wish to be a swordsman!”
Captain Bernard pat Henry’s shoulder in an attempt to show he understands the younger man. They then said their goodbyes, and Bernard headed back inside Rattay walls.
Henry took off the rest of his training gear and put it away. He completed everything he had planned for today, but hesitated to head back to the mill. He’d never admit it out loud, but the only reason was Hans Capon. Going back now meant passing through Rattay streets and that tavern again.
Plenty of herbs here. I’m in no rush, am I?
•••
It was getting darker. Henry had a whole bouquet of bright herbs by now. He held it to his chest gently as he began his journey home.
People began lighting torches and lanterns slowly, dim light casting soft shadows in the streets. Henry walked calmly, his earlier irritation completely forgotten. Or so he thought.
Henry spotted the keeper of his darkest secrets in the distance - Capon’s horse. Damn it, he’s still there?!
He took a deep breath. Surely the lord is too busy to notice me passing by, he hoped. He should’ve known better.
“Ah! Hal, you’re back!” Hans called for him before getting up from an empty table.
“Good evening, Sir Hans,” Henry sighed. “Where’s your company?”
“Oh who cares, they were boring me to death!” he brushed it off, though Henry couldn’t help but notice the pouch of coin he saw Hans take earlier hung light and empty on his belt.
“Right.”
“And what’s this?” he eyed the bouquet of fragrant herbs. “Finally apologizing to me, are you?”
“What- This isn’t for you!” he pulled the bouquet away, flushing unwillingly.
“Who else could it be for? Not that mill wench I hope,” Hans grumbled.
Is he jealous? Henry pushed the thought away.
“That is none of your business, m’lord!” Henry didn’t know why he was so defensive about this. He could’ve told him these were just herbs. And yet...
“How impossibly rude! You still owe me, peasant!”
“What the hell for?” Henry asked angrily.
“For that wine of yours, my friend,” he traced Henry’s scarf with his finger, voice low. “Accompany me home and all shall be forgiven. Unless, of course, you prefer the pillory.”
Henry knew he had no choice. He grit his teeth and nodded, avoiding the lord’s gaze.
“Splendid!” he handed him the reins of his horse and started walking ahead. Why he decided to walk on foot was beyond Henry’s comprehension.
•••
They walked along the dark streets of Rattay. The noble seemed to be in a very different mood than the blacksmith's son, who was frowning beside him, all while holding a wilting bouquet and leading a horse. It painted an interesting picture.
"For a man who was so bold on our first meeting, you are awfully silent upon the second one."
"I have nothing to say, m'lord," he lied.
"Really? After all we've been through I would've thought we were pals at least!"
"Again, I have nothing to say. Especially after that."
"How so? Most would jump at the occasion to keep me company, regardless of previous encounter,” he stated, confident. Overconfident, Henry thought.
"Most jump at the clinging of your pouch," he gritted through his teeth.
"Jesus Christ, Henry! I have forgiven your past wrongdoings, what the hell are you so sour about? Do I really make for such dreadful company?" Capon sounded genuinely clueless.
"Finally caught on, have you?" Henry couldn’t help himself.
"You insolent- Fine! Let's hear what all this is then. Speak!"
"I should let you know you're in for disappointment. I like my neck noose-free!"
"If I wanted you to hang, your feet would be above ground already! I command you to speak truthfully now!"
Henry stopped dead in his tracks, turned directly to his lord. After a few shallow breaths, he let his tongue loose.
"This is exactly the problem, Hans! You think you command everything! Everyone!"
Hans stepped back, eyes widening slightly. The horse snorted quietly, as if sharing his shock with his master.
"You want honesty? Oh I'll give you honesty. You are just never wrong, are you? You speak of forgiveness when there is nothing to forgive! Preach companionship when you give nothing to build it on! That entire evening began and went down the way it did because of your arrogance, your inability to care for anything but your own entertainment!"
"You-" he tried cutting in, before being silenced again.
"Oh no, I am not nearly done. I went through hell and back to save you from your own stupidity! Theresa too! If not for her you would be gone, damn it! She even washed your shirt and you still had something to complain about! Never even asked for her name. Why would you?" he let out a bitter laugh that made the noble's heart drop. "Everyone is just born to serve you. Born to be your toys. And yet, nothing ever satisfies you... Not even you! You don’t satisfy anyone either, for that matter. Look at me and name a single person in your life who cares for you!" Henry pointed at the lord's chest, horse reins long released from his grip.
"I am tired of herding you like a stupid buck jumping into his own misery!”
Then came a sharp pain. Henry felt warm liquid dripping down his eye - his brow was bleeding. Capon had punched him. Hard. Before he could react, the lord jumped at him with full force, taking them both to the ground. The herb bouquet scattered all around them, framing their bodies in a rather ironic way.
"You don't know me!" he punctuated with another fist to Henry's face. "You don't know me!" he kept repeating, blindly trying to land a hit.
Though the noble got a good head start, his brawling skills were no match to a peasant’s. Henry kneed his stomach and turned the tables within seconds, now feeding his fists to the lord's face. The horse grew a little restless, neighing briefly, but didn’t run.
"I'm fuckin'-" came another successful punch to the noble face, "-glad!"
After a few more hits, Henry moved back a couple of inches, catching his breath. He was completely worn out. Hans had been quiet for a while. Snapping out of his rage, Henry looked at the lord with worry, wondering if he went too far.
Hans wasn't unconscious, however. His face was bloody, even more so than Henry's, yet it glistened with something else as well. Tiny rivers ran down his cheekbones. Tears.
Neither spoke. When the last of Hans' quiet sobs died down, the silence became deafening.
Madly deafening, up until a distant clinging could be heard. Both looked at the direction of the noise, spotting a very distant torch and a bright waffenfrock. A guard.
Shit.
"Sir Hans?" he reached out, but his hand was swatted away.
"Run, you fool!" the lord pushed him as if encouraging to make haste.
Henry hesitated for a split second before taking to his heels. God, what have I done?
•••
Back at the mill, Theresa was preparing to sleep. She didn’t expect Henry to return yet. To hear Mutt bark and growl all of a sudden and see Henry turn up bruised was quite a shock to say the least.
“Oh, Henry! What on earth happened to you?!” she said as she examined his bleeding face in her hands. Henry winced at the touch.
“Don’t fret, Theresa. I’m fine-” he claimed as he was forcefully seated by the fire.
“Fine? Fine?! Hal, you are beaten to a pulp!”
Theresa quickly looked for the remains of whatever healing supplies she had left. Too bad I lost the herbs, he complained to himself. She then sat next to Henry, gently dabbing his split skin with damp linen. Henry hissed in pain.
“Oh hush! I should be the one complaining! Putting me through this again!”
“But I haven’t even said anything-” he cut himself off with his own ouch, as Theresa cleaned another one of his wounds. Perhaps more harshly than strictly necessary.
“Hal, you’ll be the death of me! And yourself! Tell me what happened.”
“It’s not important- ow! Now you’re definitely doing that on purpose!”
“And I will keep doing so until you speak!”
“Jesus, you never back down, do you?” he looked away in consideration. Theresa smiled at him slyly.
“We millers have a reputation,” she joked. “Come now. We can finish up outside. I’m sure you don’t want Peshek to overhear you in his sleep.”
•••
Behind the mill by the river, Theresa treated Henry’s wounds in candlelight as he told her everything. Mostly everything. He explained how the lord irritated him from the very beginning, how they ended up at Theresa’s door last time and what caused them to brawl today. He didn’t mention his dream, nor the horse’s potential for blackmailing in the future.
Theresa sighed.
“Oh, Henry… When will you learn to hold your tongue?”
“So you think I was wrong?”
“Well… What you said to him was true, but it is not our place to preach to nobility, Hal.”
“So what, they can treat others like rubbish? Just like that? That’s beyond unfair!” he shook his head.
“I never said it was fair.”
“But he was not just insulting me! He was cruel to others, even you!”
“Henry, what you did was very irresponsible and dangerous! You’re lucky nobody saw you! You should be grateful that lord Capon took a liking to you!” she scolded him.
“Oh, so he likes me now?”
“Yes! Of course he does, you clotpole! Nobody gets away with sassing a noble, let alone punching one!”
Theresa sighed in frustration. Henry let his head hang downward, feeling ashamed now. Theresa is right.
“Even if he did before, that’s over.” He’s sending for the executioner, I reckon, Henry added mentally.
“Hal, you should go up there tomorrow and find him,” she said, cradling his face so their eyes could meet. “Apologize to him. The sooner the better! He may like you enough, but you can’t be sure he won’t take revenge. Nobles can be very spiteful.”
“I know…”
“You behaved like a complete donkey today, Henry. Promise me I won’t find any more horrors by the door at night?” she asked with a hesitant smile, caressing his face gently.
Henry sighed and closed his eyes for a second before answering.
“I’ll try my best, Theresa. I swear.”
“Good. And though I appreciate it, please don’t go defending my honour again, my brave knight,” she giggled, kissing his cheek quickly before standing up.
Her words reminded him of his dream yet again, making the moment feel a bit awkward.
“I’ll go get some sleep, before you give me another heart attack!”
“That’s wise of you,” Henry chuckled. “Goodnight, Theresa.”
Henry sat there for a little less than an hour, looking up, hoping to see stars. He secretly wished they could guide him now, like his ma and pa would. I miss them.
Few stars were visible to one’s eye tonight, it was much cloudier than yesterday. Not just in the sky. In his mind, too.