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Peter leaves Camble and meets the stable girl. |
Chapter Nine It was the following morning and Peter awoke with a heavy heart. He dragged himself from his room, he appeared to have slept as he was the day before and even now he had no time to change. And so he descended the stairs of the keep. He stepped out into the street and receieved a lazy nod from both the Camble guards at the door. He tightened his belt and turned to see Alavor coming from the keep, rubbing his face in exhaustion despite having a fair bed for change. It was then Peter remembered of Irlos and their encounter the night before. Alavor gave a quiet âgood morningâ as he passed and made his way to the courtyard. The men were all busy, and had enlisted the help of the reluctant locals. Pulling horses from the stables and hoisting saddles and reins onto them, whereas some were feeding them, all waiting for Peterâs mark to move out. Peter then saw the southerner to the side, strangely close by in the shadows leaning against a wooden pillar supporting the nearest overhanging wooden balcony, that to his eyes appeared to be an inn. No doubt a few of the men spent their night there if failing to claim a bed in the garrison, as large as they were. He decided to approach. He wore very different clothes to Peter. Where peter wore shining plate armour Irlos dressed in the fashion much more similar to the men of the capital guard. âMorningâ began Peter rubbing his eyes. Irlos seemed restless and ready to go, although he did not show it. He leaned casually biting into an apple. It crunched. âGood morning, my lordâ he replied strangely enthusiastically with a juicy mouthful. He was the first southerner Peter had met truly, and he did seem rather odd not straying too far from the stories. âWhere did you sleep last nightâ asked Peter. âThe inn down on the left. He pointed back down the street. Had some stupid name. âThe Jolly Deerâ I think It wasâ Peter concealed a smile at the silly name yet could not hide his humorous tone. âSo you plan to ride with us, correct? Now tell me how do you expect to conceal the fact you are from the south without raising suspicions from your companionsâ âI look the partâ he said, and he adjusted his accent slightly. Muffling coughs, clearing his throat âand I speak just like one of youâ He winked mysteriously and mounted his horse before trotting over to join the company. Talar came next just as the southerner departed. âToo much wineâ he announced, âIt seems I never learnâ he said walking towards Peter. âAny ideas when you shall depart, my lord?â âSoon, donât worry. Your town has no need to bare false courtesies to us any longer, we shall leave you in peace within the half-hourâ Talar looked shocked and stumbled to find words. âFalse courtesies?â he echoed, âmy lord it has been an honour having the future kingâs presence here with usâ he said. He bowed lowly and Peter could not help but feel slightly embarrassed. The last of the men were appearing from the keep rubbing their eyes and adjusting their leather bracers. Peter glanced up at the sky as they walked. âAnother fine day for riding it seems. The rains look distant and far awayâ the sky was a deep blue and only small traces of white trails remained in suggestion of clouds or rainfall. âAyeâ agreed Talar slowly. He pulled his cloak close. âYet still the sun differs to show us any signs of warmth Iâm afraid. Despite its lovely shineâ Peter looked back to his men, all were mounted and waiting patiently, some inside the walls in the yard and others having their horses graze outside. Talar knew Peter was in haste. âFarewell, Talarâ said Peter extending a firm hand. Talar took it strongly and smiled warmly. âUntil our next meeting, my lordâ with that he shivered and briskly ran back to the keep. A stable girl then approached and brought him his horse and he mounted. The girl was no older than Duncan, and had scruffy hair and tattered robes. She was shaking as she handed the reins to Peter. âYou are scared?â asked Peter looking down at the girl. She stumbled for words but failed to mouth them. âHow old are you? And what is your name?â âCarlaâ said the girl finally, avoiding the eyes of the prince. âAge?â âFifteen, my lordâ âLook at meâ commanded Peter. The girl slowly looked up at Peter, and Peter looked down. âDo you know who I am?â Carla looked Peter up and down, looking at his armour and thinking. âYouâre Peter, are you not?â She said in wonder, quickly snapping out of the trance and remembered courtesies. âI mean, you are Peter, my lord. It is an honour meeting youâ The girl was shivering but Peter knew it was not from the cold. Peter nodded. âThatâs right, Carlaâ the girl seemed to flourish at her name âThen surely you have heard of my family, and our kindnessâ âYes, my lord all the stories and songs and poems sing of Broderickâs fine rulership, generosity and loving familyâ Peter smiled thinking of his family once again. âWhat in red hell are you wearing, Carla?â asked Peter nodding at the rags the stable girl wore. Carla looked puzzled and looked down at her clothes. She then began to go red realising she looked a fool in front of the Northâs heir. âOhâ she stumbled âwell these are my clothesâ she said quietly. âTimes are tough, my lord. I shanât lie. All the clansmen raids and all; hurt trade badly not least of all us hereâ Peter looked up and glanced around the town. It suddenly seemed so much darker, less royal and colder. He pulled his cloak tighter. Peter let out a long sigh â for the first time in his life he felt he was seeing the world from the common-folks view. âHereâ said Peter. He glanced to see nobody was watching as he reached into a small bag that hung from his side. Out he pulled a small pouch of gold. He dropped it into the hands of the girlâ Carlaâs face lit up as she could hardly believe her bright, blue eyes, she looked up at Peter. Peter finally broke the silence. âI know you probably blame my father and my family for all of this madness. All the raids and all, the pillaging from the clan lands. And I sympathise for you, I really doâ He then pulled off his right gauntlet and removed from his finger a flashing red ruby etched ring. Coiling trails of metal. âNot the prettiest thing, I knowâ said Peter âBut itâs worth more than everything you ownâ He reached down and handed it to the stable girl carefully âCarla, stable girl of Camble, I want you to remember who the real enemies are. And we will stop them. I will make these lands safe again. I promise youâ And with that Peter edged the horse into a trot down the street. He called back âBuy yourself some better clothes, Carla. Donât want to be mistaken for a Wildman do you?â She blushed and looked down at the ring, then the pouch, then back up at Peter as he rode towards the gates. She smiled and called back. âA wild girl!â |