Castor's Tale Chapter 6 Part 1 - An Awkward Dinner

Miles placed the plate laden with steaming cauliflower, green beans, and a leg of chicken on the table, then sat in his chair. Castor sat across the table while Jeric was at the head of it. They all had their plates loaded for supper and were about to give thanks. Jeric stuck out his hand and Miles took it, as did Castor. Then Miles slowly slid his hand towards her. She did nothing for a few seconds and then took it, holding it barely.

They bowed their heads and Jeric began. “Oh Triune, lord of the entire world: we thank you for this food which we have been so bountifully given. May we never become ungrateful.”

Castor dove into the food eagerly and Jeric smiled. “The food isn’t going anywhere,” he teased.

Castor gave him a quick smile that didn’t seem very genuine. Jeric had noticed the hesitation between the two youths, and he guessed that something had happened during the afternoon that he didn’t know about.

For Miles’ part, he tried his best to seem unaware of the odd feeling of stiffness that prevailed. He gulped down his chicken, trying to get through dinner just as quickly as Castor was. But all it did was confirm Jeric’s thoughts. He took a sip of water from his mug and leaned back in his chair.

“So, Castor,” he said, turning to her, “did you have a good time at Ray’s?”

Castor nodded, taking a large bite of beans. Jeric smiled inwardly. A fantastic way to not have to respond. He waited for her to finish and then continued. “Castor, I heard there was a slight scuffle this morning.”

Castor glanced at him from the corner of her eyes and then went back to her meal. Jeric took another sip of water and continued, hoping but not expecting that Castor may continue the conversation.

“Look,” he said, clasping his hands together, “I understand Kalan is not a likeable fellow. He enjoys harassing others. But you must remember that it is not right to strike back as you did. Miles tells me that you did throw the first punch.”

Castor glared at Miles who looked back at his meal, his face turning red. He never enjoyed having the attention, but especially not when it was someone mad at him for speaking behind their back. Jeric understood and quickly hurried on, drawing Castor’s attention back.

“I know you’ve been taught this by me your whole life, but I also understand that no one is perfect, and no one will always do the right thing.”

Castor sighed deeply in her heart. Perhaps Jeric would let her go without one of his speeches on justice and anger.

Jeric frowned to himself. “But another problem has arisen. I heard from the townsfolk that Kalan was found beaten and with a broken arm this afternoon.”

Castor’s quick glance from her plate to Jeric and then back to the plate, told him everything he needed to know. But he wanted her to admit it herself.

He spoke slowly and deliberately. “Castor. Did you harm Kalan in any way?”

Miles’s eyes shot up from his food. He watched Castor. For a second she hesitated, and then took a breath as if to say something. But instead she sunk a little lower in her chair. Jeric waited calmly, taking a drink and a bite of chicken. The silence except for the clatter of silverware felt oppressive, as if it were a living force.

Finally, Miles, not being able to stand it anymore stood and said: “If everyone’s done I’ll clear the table. The partiers will be arriving soon.”

Since foundation Day was the next day, nearly everyone had a part somewhere in anticipation. At Jeric’s Inn he had three minstrels who were friends. They traveled throughout the kingdom during the year, but had made it a point to be back for Foundation Day. So the night before they’d play some favorites for the crowds.

Jeric looked to Miles and said, that will be fine. Castor, would you walk with me outside for a moment.”

Castor let out an exasperated sigh. Jeric ignored it and together they stepped out of the dining room and slipped out to a small trail behind the inn. Castor looked around everywhere, ignoring Jeric’s gaze. He clasped his hands behind his back.

“Castor, I don’t wish to annoy you, and I don’t like to have conflict, you know that. But when I a problem comes up, I must confront it.”

Castor nodded. She’d heard all of this before.

Jeric saw the nod. “I’m going to spare the talk, or speech, or whatever you might call what I generally give you. I just want you to answer my question. Did you harm Kalan?”

Jeric stopped walking and Castor did to. An owl hooted nearby and both looked up for a short while. Then Castor, realizing that Jeric was not going to budge till she answered said simply: “Yes.”

Jeric let out a low groan. He had already known that Castor had done it. It was all too obvious by her countenance.And even if she hadn’t, he could tell that Miles knew something.

“I’m going to have to punish you.”

Castor waited for the usual rundown. It would involve not being able to shoot her arrows and bow outside of the village, and would include more work at the inn. It had all happened before.

“You will not partake in tonight’s fun. You will stay in your room till it is over, and then help clean up.”

Jeric winced as he said these words. He knew how painful it would be to Castor, but it had to be done. She needed to see that wrongdoings must be punished.

Castor for her part was shocked. She had expected a small punishment, but not this! She thoroughly enjoyed the pre-Foundation Day celebration. She often would spend the night listening to the minstrels’ music and talking to Ray. In a small village like they lived in, this was one of the few highlights of the year. And now it was being taken away.

Anger rose in her chest, and although it wasn’t visible in the dark, her face turned crimson. She gritted her teeth. “What?” she said, not wanting to believe it. “You expect me to sit up in my room and listen while half the village has a wonderful time!”

Jeric held up his hand. “Don’t yell, please Castor. And yes, I do. You were foolish and could have hurt Kalan even more seriously then you did. You must realize how dangerous and wrong it was?”

Castor knew it, but threw the thought of justice aside. “This is ridiculous!” she spun on her heel to face Jeric. “It was an accident. How many times have I said that today? And if Kalan weren’t a selfish pig, none of this would have happened!”

No,” Jeric replied calmly, wishing, but knowing, that Castor would not concede easily, “you started this. You struck him, you tripped his horse, and now you are trying to deny it. Do not shift the blame on others Castor.”

Castor growled. “This is it! You’ve tried to control my life since I was a little kid. This is my life, and you’re not going to tell me how to run it!”

“Listen,” Jeric said. “I don’t want to do this you realize, but I must!” He wiped perspiration from his forehead.

Castor turned back towards the inn, angrily ignoring Jeric. He followed her, trying to calm her down. “Castor, you must listen. I’m not doing this because I enjoy punishing you. Far from it!”

“Then don’t do it! You’ve always talked about Triune, a loving God who is just and righteous. How is it just to punish me for something I didn’t do on purpose?”

“You wanted to hurt him didn’t you? Castor, you know that the thought of hurting Kalan is just as bad as the act itself. The act is merely a physical manifestation of the mental desire.”

Castor slammed the door shut and Jeric sat in silence for a few seconds, calming himself down.He entered the inn. Miles was wiping the table down with a wet cloth, or had been rather. He was now staring in the direction that Castor had stormed in. Jeric followed.

He skipped up the steps quickly, and found that Castor’s door was locked. He debated between knocking and continuing the conversation, or stopping and letting Castor have some time alone. He chose the latter and skipped back down the steps.

“Miles, come on, let’s get the drinks ready! We’ve got a party to celebrate!” He smiled, trying to keep a cheerful atmosphere up.

Miles nodded and went into the storage room via a small door next to his own, and returned a minute later with blue and yellow banners.

Twenty minutes later there were banners streaming from rafter to rafter, each table had a red tablecloth on it, as well as several mugs and a big pitcher filled with apple cider. To the opposite side of the stairs, they have moved the tables away and replaced it with a few chairs here the minstrels would perform their show. Jeric turned to Miles. “Looks good! Now let’s have some fun!”