Morgan Rice - A Clash of Honor

Gwendolyn heard a noise and turned, and in the distance she saw a single man hurrying through the fields, trotting her way. She looked closely, at his short stature, his hunched back, his pronounced limp, and she remembered: Steffen. She had sent one of her attendants to summon him, not knowing if he would come. She was thrilled that he had.

Gwen never forgot those who were kind to her-especially those who saved her life-and she wanted to repay Steffen for his kindness. She hated the idea of him slaving away in the servants’ quarters, especially after what he had done for her. It just wasn’t fair. He was a good man, who was misjudged by his appearance. She had to admit, even she had misjudged him at first.

Steffen approached, removing his hat and bowing low before her, his forehead drenched in sweat.

“My lady,” he said. “I came as soon as you called for me.”

Krohn came running over, stood protectively beside Gwen, and growled at Steffen.

“Krohn, it’s okay,” Gwen said. “He’s one of us.”

Krohn instantly relaxed, the hairs dropping on his back, his ears lowering, as if he understood. He stepped forward and as Steffen held out a hand, Krohn licked it. He then jumped up and licked Steffen’s face.

Steffen laughed.

“He is the most affectionate leopard cub I’ve ever met,” Steffen said.

“If you’re on his good side,” Gwen replied. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t know if you would.”

“And why wouldn’t I?”

“With Gareth ruling, it seems dangerous to be anywhere near me. After all, look at what happened to Firth. I thought perhaps you might be afraid to be involved anymore.”

Steffen shrugged.

“There’s little left that frightens me, my lady. After thirty years of sleeping in a basement, I honestly haven’t much to lose. I’m not afraid of kings. It’s injustice that I fear.”

She surveyed Steffen and could see that he was telling the truth. The more time she spent with him, the more respect she had for this man, a funny, quirky man, who saw the world his way. He was much wiser and more intelligent than she had given him credit for, and she felt so indebted to him for what he had done for her. She felt that he was a close friend, one of few people in this court she could really trust.

“I’ve called you here because I never had a chance to properly thank you,” she said.

“You have nothing to thank me for, my lady.”

“But I do. And I always repay my debts. I do not hold it fair in my eyes that you continue to be a servant when you have saved the life of a royal. I owe you a great debt, and I wish to repay you. Please tell me how. Would you like wealth? A new position?”

Steffen shook his head.

“My lady, I have no need for wealth. Perhaps in my youth, but not now. I have no place I call home. I sleep in a small room adjacent to the servants’ quarters. I have no family-at least none that will acknowledge me. I have no one and nothing in the world. So I have no need for things. That is how it has always been with me.”

Gwendolyn felt her heart breaking.

“But that is unfair,” she said.

He shrugged.

“That is the way of the world. Some people are born with much, and others with less.”

“But it is never too late,” she said. “I want to at least elevate your position. I want to give you a job elsewhere, with more dignity.”

“As long as your brother is king, I wish to be nowhere near him. The basements suits me just fine.”

“And what if there should be a new ruler one day?” she asked.

He looked right through her, understanding her instantly. He was more perceptive than she thought.

“My lady, if you are that ruler, and I pray to the gods that you will be one day, then I would be honored to fill any position you would give me. But until that day comes, I am content.”

She nodded, suddenly realizing what she would do.

“If that day should come,” she said, “I will need many advisors. There will be few that I would trust as well as you. Not to mention, I like your company.”

Steffen smiled; it was the first time she had ever seen him smile. It made her sad; she could see the little boy behind his eyes, the one who had once wanted to be loved, but had been nothing but rejected. This might be, she realized, the first time in his life he had ever been accepted, the first time he had ever been picked for anything.

“My lady,” he said humbly, a tear in his eyes, “nothing would do me so great an honor.”

He suddenly stepped forward, reached down and picked up her bow.

“If I am to be your advisor,” he said, “if I may be so bold, perhaps I could start now, with a lesson on the bow and arrow.”

He smiled, pointing at her distant target.

“Forgive me, my lady, but I cannot help but notice your aim could use some correcting, if you don’t mind my saying.”

Gwen smiled back, happily surprised; she was wary that someone in his shape could teach her, but she decided to go along with it and humor him. He was a quirky man.

“I’m glad that you did notice,” she said. “Because it needs much correcting. Is archery a skill of yours?”

He grinned as he lifted an arrow, and weighed it in his palm. She had never seen anyone handle an arrow like that before.

“I have few skills in this world, my lady,” he said, “but archery is one of them. You would think that I would not-yet something about the hunch of my back has actually made it easy for me to shoot. It always has. My few friends used to joke that I was born in the shape of the bow. But sometimes I think, it is a good thing.”

Steffen suddenly placed the arrow in the bow, pulled the back string, then let it go, all while looking at Gwen and smiling.

A second later, there was the sound of the arrow hitting the target, and Gwen looked over, breathless, to see that he had hit a perfect bull’s-eye.

She gasped. She could not understand how he had done it: he had been looking at her while he fired. She had never seen anything like that in her life-not even from the royal archer.

“Can you teach me to do that?” she asked, in awe.

“Aye,” he said, reaching out and handing her the bow.

She took it and placed an arrow in it, excited for the first time.

“Draw it, let me see your form,” he said.

She pulled back the string, her hand shaking.

“Your elbow must be higher. And you must pull your fingers closer to your chin. Your chin should be lowered, your eyes are wavering. Choose one eye. Don’t overthink it. And don’t hold it so long-your hands will shake.”

Gwen let the arrow fly, and again the arrow grazed the target, although this time a bit closer to the center.

“There’s a strong wind today,” he said. “You must take that into account. Also, the ground you stand on is sloped. Both of those must be adjusted for. Finally, this bow you hoist is too heavy for you. That must be taken into account, too. To adjust, aim a little higher, and more to your right. And bend your knees just a little: they are locked. That will allow you to breathe. Breathe deep, and let it go as you reach the peak of your breath.”

Gwen did everything he instructed, and as she let this arrow fly, it felt different this time. She felt more in control.

There was the sound of the arrow striking the target, and she cried out in delight to see that she had hit a near perfect bull’s-eye.

Steffen smiled wide, too, and clapped his hands.

“My, you are a fast learner!” he said.

“You are a good teacher,” she answered, beaming, proud of herself.

Suddenly, beside them, Krohn started snarling. The hair stood up on his entire body, and he turned, watching the empty horizon, snarling.

“Krohn, what is it?” she asked.