Shelley Thomas: The Seven Tales of Trinket

“Aye. I think she can sometimes.”

“We should go now, before all of those terrible things happen,” he said. I glanced over toward the Gypsy camp, feeling torn.

“Feather hummed a lullaby I’ve heard before, long ago. One written just for me, I think,” I confided. I’d been too afraid to speak the words until now. Too afraid I’d imagined the song, or if I told someone about it, it would fade into the mist.

The look on his face was blank, as if I’d spoken in a foreign tongue.

“Thomas, she remembers my da.”

“ I remember your da.”

“Not the same thing and you know it well. He was here.”

“Are you sure? Maybe she is just pretending so that you will stay. She seems to like having you around. And she herself said she was a liar.” He sniffed and plucked a feather from his trousers, then another. Working with the chickens had made him look a bit like one.

“And there is a tale here. I can feel it. I think I might collect it. So that maybe…” But I could not finish. What if Thomas laughed at my idea of becoming a storyteller myself?

“A tale about what?” he said, instantly curious.

I narrowed my eyes. “’Tis a mysterious story, I think, of a girl with a gift of telling the future.” Dramatically, I swept around Thomas, placing my fingers on my temples. “I see…” I cried, swooning from side to side. Thomas tried not to smile, but he could not help it. I grabbed his palm and began to read. “Let me see, you will marry a beautiful princess and have eleven children—”

“Only one princess?” He laughed.

“Well, not a real princess,” I said, “a chicken-princess.”

A noise from the bushes caused us both to freeze. I turned, and there, coming out from behind a tree, was the tallest man I’d ever seen. He was dressed in green and had a bushy black beard.

“I’ve found her,” he called out. “Who knew it would be so easy to capture the seer? I would have thought the king would keep a guard with you.” His eyes swept over Thomas and he smirked. “Obviously not.”

Thomas and I edged our way closer to each other. I cleared my throat and prayed for boldness. “I am not the seer.”

“And I am not interested in your lies. I heard you. I saw you take his palm.” He pointed to Thomas’s hand, which was shaking slightly.

A shorter, fatter man, also dressed in shades of green, came out of the bushes then. “Well done. Lothar will be pleased.”

“Who is Lothar?” I asked.

“Our leader. We have traveled across the hills and through the forests to bring you back with us, seer.” The fat man’s voice was sharp and hard like a stone.

“Truly, she is not the one you seek!” Thomas piped up, his scrawny fists clenched at his sides.

Both men laughed at Thomas, whose face turned red as a berry.

“Protection from a pup?” the tall man taunted. “Let’s have a go, mate. You and I.” He circled Thomas, eyeing his gangly legs and skinny arms. “I’ll keep one hand tied behind me, pup. And I’ll give you the first blow.”

“No! Leave him alone,” I cried.

The fat man thrust his palm in front of my face. “Go ahead, seer. Tell me what you see. Quick-like, before we take you to Lothar.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said a voice softer than a whisper on the wind. The tall man stopped teasing Thomas and the fat man’s chubby palm instantly dropped to his side. A man swung down from a branch overhead and landed right in front of me. He put a finger to his lips and motioned to the other men, who promptly clamped their hands over our mouths before we could think to shout for help. We were flung over the shoulders of the men and carried off, away from the Gypsy camp.

How long we were bounced up and down, upside down, I could not say. ’Twas not comfortable at all and my head ached most horribly. I wanted to cry, but I was too frightened to make a sound.

When they finally dumped us none too gently upon the ground, I leaned over to Thomas. “Do not say a word,” I whispered. “Promise me?”

Thomas nodded.

“If they find out they carried off the wrong girl, they might not think twice before killing us. We must be very careful.”

Thomas nodded again. His eyes were bright and glassy, but not a tear did he shed. He had hoped for adventure on the journey, but I rather think this was not what he’d had in mind.

The man with the soft voice came to us then.

“I apologize,” he began, “for my methods. One never knows how the warriors of Foresthill might be greeted.” He sat on a stump near where Thomas and I huddled together. I said nothing, my mind awhirl, thinking of what to do. His voice was kind and he seemed gentle. Surely he would not kill us.

“I am Lothar of Foresthill. These are my men.” He motioned to five men, all dressed in green. Their sleeves and trousers blended into the leaves of the forest. Horses with manes as black as shadows were tethered to the trees. I could see why ’twas so easy for the men to sneak up on us.

I nodded, still silent.

“We travel from far over the green hills. My men say you are the seer.”

I kept still. ’Twould do no good to reveal their failure at capturing Feather until I knew more.

“What say you tell us what you see?” he said, pulling a brown glove from his hand and holding it gently in front of me.

“Why do you require a seer?” I asked.

“There have been rumors of disputes between the lands to the east of us and the lands to the south. We wonder which will be victorious so we can throw our lots in with the victor. And then my wife, she is with child—”

“Halt. Tell me no more,” I said, knowing not from where the words came. “’Tis not so easy to see the future. Surely you know fortunes are not read quickly.”

Lothar raised an eyebrow in question.

“There are things that must be done to call forth visions of what is to come.”

Thomas raised his eyebrow as well, but I saw him relax for the first time since our capture. He knew the tone of my voice well enough to understand that I had some kind of idea. Whether it was a good or poor one remained yet unknown.

“In order to foresee what fate might bring, you must…” I tried to conjure a picture of Feather. What would she do in my position? She would either lie or stall. I chose stalling. “You must earn your future. The fates cannot be forced.”

“I have never heard of such a thing.”

“Do you want to know your future or not?” I asked, feeling slightly bold.

That gave Lothar pause. We stared at one another, sizing each other up.

Finally, he inclined his head toward me. “Very well, how do I earn the right to see the future?”

“Well, it is very simple, really. First, you and your men must circle the camp three times.”

A look of disbelief crossed his face.

“That doesn’t sound like much,” he said. True. I would have to do better.

“There is more.” My voice was more commanding than I’d ever heard it. “If you choose to listen.”

Lothar rolled his eyes slightly, then nodded for me to continue.

“You must give us three loaves of bread.”

He nodded again.

“And you and your men must stay awake for three days and three nights. Then your fortunes shall come to me.”

“Three nights? Truly, three nights?”

“Yes,” I said, “all of your men must stay awake for three nights.”

“But why? It makes no sense.”

“’Tis the way of the fates. It does not have to make sense.” I sat up straight, and I noticed Thomas did as well.

’Twas a long three days, to be sure. But the men of Foresthill were not unkind to us. I almost felt bad for deceiving them. But one must keep one’s wits about her when traveling the countryside, and this was one case in which my storyteller’s blood was quite useful. Perhaps I could create tales worth listening to.