Chapter 10
Tim had no idea where he was going but he followed the man called Engle without the slightest hesitation. His determined steps and eager energy infused Tim with same sense of urgency. Ever since he had entered Traimiss he had heard stories of this man. There was something about the square symmetry of his forehead and his pale blue eyes that inspired trust. Engle lead him back behind The Harpy where a horse black as coal stood waiting. Tim had never been on the back of such a fine horse. He was a little disappointed when Engle hefted to burlap sacks full of grain on its back as and tied them to the saddle. He ran his hand over the horse’s muzzle and whispered something in its ear. Then he slapped it roundly on the hindquarters and the magnificent beast took off without them. Engle patted Tim on the head and led him on a parallel path through the overgrown east gate and into the shadows of the forest. It was hardly a path, more like a scrub trail a fox would follow but it kept them hidden from the road.
“Why did you do that?”
“I’m hoping that we may trick the witless and buy ourselves some time.”
“Do you think Prince Daven will really come after me?” Tim was astonished and his head felt light with the sudden realization that he had truly triumphed.
“I think you did yourself more than proud but you have more to fear of keeping in company with me than your tangle with him will bring. For my part in that, I apologize.” Engle smiled. His lips disappeared in his salt and pepper beard. “Now that we are passed the gate, such as it is. You can take this trail north if you like and get to the other side of Traimiss.” Tim’s heart sank. Engle hesitated and added. “Or you can come with me now and I’ll attend to your hand.”
Tim’s heart leapt with excitement. He knew better than to trust anyone but with Engle it was as if all the worry and doubt was gone. He hardly noticed the steady stream of blood dripping from his hand, or the dull throb beneath the vise like pressure of Engle’s fingers digging in his wrist. His wound was a badge of honor and Tim was proud of it. “So what is your plan? Where will we go?”
Engle raised his left brow and smiled. “I know of a safe place. I was going there anyway after I had concluded my business in town.”
Tim suddenly worried that Engle might not have reason enough to let him come with him. “I don’t think I’ll be allowed back at the king’s stables so you could say I was looking for a place.” He shrugged, noticing that Engle kept moving forward. “I could go with you.”
“Very well, though I’m not certain what kind of welcome to expect.”
“Better than here?” Tim felt a momentary twinge of alarm. He did not want to make his situation worse.
“Infinitely, even in the worst of circumstances.” Engle winked. Then he suddenly stopped. His face turned grave and he raised his finger to his lips. He crouched down and Tim followed suit. He had not heard what Engle did but he knew better than to question it his order. After a while Engle waved the all clear. They started walking again.
“Do you have a name child?” Engle asked.
“What is yours?” Tim replied, trying to change the subject. He gathered Engle had trouble similar to his and felt a kindred feeling toward him. Being with him felt safe regardless of the soldiers pursuing them. Yet he could not forget the disastrous consequences the last time he gave someone his name.
“Engle.”
“Do they want you dead?”
“Some do and I think any who didn’t probably will now thanks to my untimely appearance. Suffice to say I have long since worn out my welcome in the realm.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” Tim offered.
Engle chuckled softly and squeezed his wrist until Tim could no longer feel his hand.
“Now, I have answered several of your questions. You still haven’t answered mine. What is your name?”
“My father was called Tim, I think that is good enough for me.” Tim offered reluctantly.
Engle smiled as if he knew. “Tim it is. I must say you keep some interesting things in this pouch of yours.”
Panicked Tim reached up to his neck. It was gone. His throat closed and he turned back up the path. Engle held him fast.
“I have to go back.”
“You’ll do no such thing. Here my boy.” Engle dangled his pouch in front of his nose. Tim reached for it but he tucked it back inside his tunic.
“Give it back.”
“All in good time. I have questions for you but for now we best make haste.”
Tim looked round behind. “I don’t see them yet. Give me back my pouch and I’ll be on my way.” He regretted trusting Engle as much as he already had.
“Child, I am no thief. I know this is yours that makes it a good insurance against your leaving and leading them back to me.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
Engle’s mouth turned crooked. “Not intentionally but it is what would happen. Now, if we are very fortunate they will follow Gavran and miss our path.”
“That’s why you weighed him down with the grain?”
His brows went up. “That and the fact that I as good as purchased the grains. I hope they might have a chance of reaching home.”
Tim realized he was teasing. “If his tracks are deeper in the soil then they will think he carries us on his back.”
“If I haven’t instructed them better than to fall for the ruse. I never thought I’d wish for evidence of my failure. You’re a clever boy. Where did you learn to give consideration to deception and escape?”
Before Tim could answer Engle’s hand was over his mouth. He threw his cloak over their heads and dove under a thicket, shoving Tim ahead of him. Engle drew the edge of his cloak under the bush as the men were suddenly on top of them. A man dismounted, his leather-shod foot narrowly missing Tim’s head as he brushed against the thicket. He knelt. His breath was so close Tim felt it move the air by his cheek. Surely he sensed them. The man removed his glove, rolling it awkwardly against his thigh to do so. He checked the depth of the crescent shape prints of Gavran’s trail. Picking up a clump of dirt he rolled it between his fingers.
The man stood in that one place, as if waiting for them to reveal themselves. Tim’s heart beat so loudly he was certain they would be discovered. The man took a deep breath, pausing as if catching their scent before slowly exhaling. Tim began to tremble. He reminded himself that this was not the first time he had been in danger. He closed his eyes trying to use that awareness to slow his heart and prevent the hot stinging tears which threatened his eyes. Engle moved his hand to the center of his back. Its strength and warmth leached away some of Tim’s terror and his heart begin to slow. His breath came more slowly and the tremors stopped. He did not know how long they lay there before the men moved away. Tim was paralyzed until Engle raised him to his feet.
“I hate him.” Tim whispered. He should have known that any momentary triumph had its price. Tim brushed the weeds from his clothes, his hands trembling rebelliously. His eyes started watering in earnest as the circulation returned to his wounded hand and it started to throb with something more than pain.
“That wasn’t the prince. Don’t worry I think we’ve already seen the worst of his bark.”
Engle gently took Tim’s hand and examined his wound. “I am sorry you made such a bad bargain coming with me. I will see to it that you have adequate compensation to get you safely away.”
Tim remembered that other than that defiant bite of the baker’s bread, he had not eaten all day. With the rush of adrenaline beginning to wane, he was becoming more aware of his hunger. At least that is how he understood his growing weakness.
Tim finally looked down at his mangled hand, mistakenly hoping to derive strength of will. The front of his tunic was crimson. The blood started to form a small pool at his feet. He thought of the reddish mud that formed on the road after the slaughter. It looked just the same when his parents died, drawing their final breaths as he watched high above clinging to the rafters. He could not look away from what Engle was doing. The ground began to spin. He looked up but the trees were swaying. He slumped over and vomited, just missing Engle’s feet.
“Is it the blood?” Engle asked sidestepping the mess. He ripped off a part of his cloak and wrapped it around his hand. “Try not to look at it.”
When he had finished and the world had stopped spinning Tim looked over at him and asked: "Where are we going?"
Engle sighed: “It is deeper than I thought. I don’t have enough water to wash it out and sustain you and me both. We are going to head toward the river. That is of course, if you have no other duels to fight this afternoon? Do you think you can walk?”
Tim mustered a smile. “To bad we don’t have your horse.”
“Should I carry you?’
Tim shook his head vigorously. It was humiliating enough that he had gotten sick.
“Had I known I’d have company on the journey back, I’d planned differently. I never think to tie another horse in the woods for these occasions.”
Engle carefully picked their path along hard ground to minimize their trail. The sun shot bright arrows through the blanket of the trees. The light mottled the forest floor with shots of bright gold in amongst the mosaic of green and ruddy brown. The rough bark of the pine trees reminded Tim of thick cracked calluses, the kind his father had. Tim focused on the islands of sunlight to keep from thinking about his hand. Engle had not lessened his grip.
“What is your family name, perhaps I know it?” Engle asked after some minutes had passed.
Tim shook his head. He said too much already.
“You have a shrewd eye and a quick hand. You caught Prince Daven off guard today. With a proper education and training with the right master you could make something of yourself.”
Tim kept his eyes low but his heart jumped excitedly. He imagined what it would have been like to be able to save Ivan and Elsa by his sword.
“If you pulled that feat on one of his fellows, I think Daven would have been as good as his word and taken you as a squire. Unfortunately, he is too young for that kind of generosity when he suffers humiliation. But I suppose it is a rare thing that a man ever reaches that point and royal favor is a privilege easily lost.” Engle paused. “What I can offer you is far better than living in barns and looking for handouts. Perhaps you will consider it an option.”
Tim watched broken twigs crunch beneath his feet as Engle’s words slowly sunk in. He wondered if it was an invitation or an order. Not that it mattered either way. Going back was not an option.
“When can I have my pouch back?”
“In good time. You haven’t answered all my questions.”
"Are you a holy man?" he asked. Tim did not know why he asked him that. It was something to say.
"No, I am no holy man," Engle snickered.
“You are a healer then?”
"I have some knowledge of the healing arts but if you will follow me, I can introduce you to someone who is. But if you are looking for a holy man I’m afraid I cannot help you. I have never met anyone who truly fits that description. Have you?”
"Father Peter." He never cared for the Father. He had seen him relieve himself behind the stables. He was not so different from other men.
"Ah, I take it that he is a holy man in your estimation?" Engle asked, not forcing a response.
"He is a priest.”
“Is that all it takes?”
“They say it is. I know he thinks he is. He preaches in the village when they are tired of him at the palace. I don’t care for any of his talks in either place.”
"Do they tire of him often, at the palace? I heard he was much in favor."
Tim shrugged not knowing how to answer. They came upon a little creek that ran close to the river.
“This will sting, but the water is fast moving and clean.”
Engle pointed where the water ran over the rocks. He held his hand under the flow of the stream. Then he removed the bandage and with his thumb he gently opened the wound letting the water flush through it. He rolled away dried blood and weeks of grime under his fingertips gradually revealing a pink palm Tim hardly remembered. The cold water burned like fire and Tim’s eyes filled with tears. He was determined not to let any drop. Engle pinched the wound as it started bleeding again. He opened a small satchel hidden under the folds of his cloak. He drew out several long yellow green leaves that smelled like foul fish. He rolled them between his palms until their stink filled the air. Then he laid them over Tim’s hand. The weeds burned more that the icy water. Tears streamed down his face but he did not whimper or pull away.
“This will help draw out any blood poison in the wound and knit the flesh together.” He brushed the hair out of Tim’s eyes and dried his tears. “So tell me do you repeat what they say about Father Peter because they say it or because you believe it?"
Tim hesitated. He did not like any priest but at least Father Peter had never tried to touch him. "No one has ever asked me. My mother told that a holy man is one that serves God but that they are hard to find.”
Engle tore part of the lining of his cloak and bound Tim’s hand with it. Then he took a skin of bitter wine and made Tim take a health swig of it. The liquid burned almost as much as his weed bandage but it gave a feeling of strength to his limbs as its warmth spread.
“I agree with your mother. How’s your hand?”
The slimy green leaves started to sooth as much as they pained, the throbbing subsided and the burning sensation stopped. Engle looked at the low hanging sun and frowned.
“It will be dark soon. We should get going. There are wolves in this forest and we have enough enemies as it is. I know a place not far from here that will provide us shelter until tomorrow.”
Engle led him to a growth of cedar trees, each as thick and as tall as they other. They had grown together in a clump forming a crescent shape. They were so close that Tim could hardly slip his fingers between them. Their feathery branches made a soft rustling noise as they caught in the breeze but their thick trunks blocked out all the other noise in the forest.
“Father Peter should try giving his sermons here.” Tim whispered in awe. The aroma from the trees was spicy and pungent. In the shelter of that natural shield, Tim felt closer to God than he had in the hard grey stones of any church he had entered.
“Shh! They might be insulted. But indeed many have prayed here. It has always been a safe haven. We will be shielded from the wind and concealed from anyone approaching from the trail or the river.”
“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
Engle’s smiled and his voice softened. “Welcome to Duessa.”
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