The Beggar's Bread, 3 Chapters

   This is chapter 1, 2, and the start of 3, of my story "The Beggar's Bread". I had posted chapters 1 and 2 before but they have been greatly edited and many changes to the plot have been made. I also plan on coming back to this and doing some more editing, but I would like to see what people think of it first.

   Keep in mind: there is meant to be mysteries, not everything will be answered, and I have done many things in it that may seem odd for a reason. All will be revealed... Someday:)

   I dont know if many people will put in the time to read this, its really only about 7 or so pages:P I really hope people like it and I welcome any positive changes you may suggest. Enjoy..

Prologue:

His wife and sixteen year old daughter lay at his feet, and his sword soaked in blood, sat heavily in his hand. What happened? What have I done? Their accusing eyes stared at him, glaring through their tangled hair. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. No. No; this isn’t right! A scream escaped his lungs, and echoed around him, as if bouncing off the trees. His slaughtered family, almost unrecognizable, reached out to him with their lifeless bodies. Slowly, he raised his sword to his heart, holding it so the blade cuts the palms of his hands, and lunged it towards his chest. I’m sorry…

Chapter One:

The colours fuse together in my mind. Never settling or taking one shade, but seeming to linger at a crimson sunset, or fluttering like a butterfly with wings of fire. I close my eyes, hoping somehow the answers I’ve been searching for will materialize on the back of my eyelids. But of course, they never do. Instead, the same rich colours cloud my thoughts, and I wait silently as the blur of golden red takes shape. I see a woman with fair hair, wearing a red satin dress and gloves. The vision shifts and I no longer see the features of her face, instead I realize it is not gloves she wears but  blood, drying upon her delicate skin. I shake the thought from my head, but it was too late – I had seen all it wanted me to.

The sensation of defeat pours over me, and once again I feel like this curse has taken my own mind from me. The last one happened three days ago, while I was walking home from the stables. A high pitched bark from a dog was ringing in my ears. Only I couldn’t recall hearing one. Suddenly behind my eyes the shape of a small hairless, white dog appeared. It felt foreign there- like they usually do, and as quickly as it came it went. I didn’t think much of it after. I generally try to forget them and hope they don’t pop up somewhere later. This one did yesterday. It was the baker’s dog, only I hadn’t recognised it because it normally has straggly knots that fell to the ground. But it had had all its hair cut off due to a wound from a fatal snake bite. It shocked me so much I told my mother I was sick and stayed home for the rest of the day.

Now, in my small cottage bedroom, I glare at the hard wooden floors willing tears not to fall. I start to tremble as I wonder if the poor woman I just pictured will come to life also. A knock at the door distracts me. I steady myself and go to the door to meet Claudia, my cousin.

***

Walking towards the palace gardens alongside Claudia calms my mind, and any pictures that may appear in my head have vanished. As we walk, the cottages we pass start to become larger and grander. Many decorated with vines and colourful paint.

“So Miss Vivian, what do you think about my Ryan?” she asks, reminding me of her latest conquest. Claudia has been quite a hit with the young men lately, mainly because of her newly granted freedom from her father. I assume they find her her soft brown curls and cheerful personality charming.

“Ryan? He’s the tall one right?” She nods, eager to hear more. She's also great to mess with. “Oh he’s cute, really cute. Seems a bit old for a little fifteen year old like you though. Maybe I should take him off your hands? His beard really turns me on too.”

“Oh my god Vivian, you’re thinking of his father!” Our laughter erupts and I notice heads turn to find the source of noise.

“I am? Maybe I can be your stepmother!”

“That is so gross! Please don’t talk to me ever again,” she says seriously, trying to keep a straight face but failing.

“Don’t talk to your future step mother like that little girl!” I grin back at her. As we walk on, the first sign of the garden that hits us is the smell. Floral scents such as lavender and roses fill the air, with hints of different herbs and spices, citrus and tea tree, also lingering within the breeze.

“Hannah is amazing,” Claudia declares as she takes a deep breath in through her nose. Hannah, my mother, runs the palace gardens, and has a remarkable knowledge of plants. She is constantly making new herbal remedies, and is a great help to Claudia’s father, Uncle Rupert, as he is the royal physician. It was only last year that my mother was granted the responsibility of the gardens, and since then has transformed it into the most beautiful place in the kingdom. “Speak of the angel,” Claudia exclaims as my mother emerges from behind a fruit tree. Her long sun-coloured hair is pushed into a bun, like it usually is, and she has on her favourite green dress. “Good morning Auntie Hannah!”

“Good morning Claudia. I see you have somehow lured my Vivian out of her room.” She looks at me with her sweet motherly glare, “could you please take a few things to Mr. Warwick for me Viv?”

“But he has an eye patch and it scares me.” Claudia’s giggles, but I can tell the look on my mother’s face means I don’t have a choice. “Fine, what is it?”

“Oh I nearly forgot to tell you! There is a banquet tonight celebrating the success of the Royal Guard and the men’s return. The messenger arrived late last night.”

“Uncle Henry is coming back?” Claudia asks as a massive smile stretches across her face, mirroring my own. This means my father is coming home. As the Royal Guard Captain he often leaves, but this latest departure had lasted six weeks and had been very important in assuring war did not break out with the Gypsic people west of the great mountains. I expect the whole kingdom will be joyous once hearing this news.

“Yes and the supplies for Mr. Warwick will be needed as soon as they arrive. So chop chop sweetie!” she says handing me a heavy crate and nudging me away. So much for a ‘few’ supplies.

***

I struggle down the main village street alone. Claudia fled as soon as my mother gestured her to another crate, but not before she reminded me to be quick so we can pick her apparel for tonight. The beautiful smell of the gardens was gone now, masked with the scent of dust and horses. It was obvious the people were more rushed then normal for this midsummer morning. The banquet must have everyone worked up. Carriages and horses trample the street, and crowds of people gather around shops. Any who did not appear to be busy were swarmed by the poorer children trying to sell flowers and beads. Lucky my hands were full, because I find it hard to refuse their innocent faces.

I pass the tailors and see the pre-celebration scurry, taking note that I should probably figure out what I was going to wear. I have quite a nice selection of dresses, some I even received from the royal family themselves, as gifts and such for galas or balls. A perk of being the daughter of the Royal Guard Captain I suppose. My favourite however, was a gift from my father, which he bought me on my sixteenth birthday. I have only worn it twice; maybe I should wear it tonight.

Amid my thoughts of clothes, I arrive at Mr. Warwick’s shop front. Mr. Warwick is an odd man, and often smells of smoke and bananas. He sells a range of things; from the herbal remedies my mother makes him, to miniature collectable eggs. “Miss Fay! Care for this delightful feather?” He inquires, darting in front of me from behind a shelf. I try not to stare at his dark purple eye patch. “My, my, it goes with your hair! You must have it!”

“Umm, thank you Mr. Warwick,” I reply, putting down the crate to receive the gift. “My mother asked me to deliver this to you.”

“Oh your mother is so lovely. I say, if I was ten years younger Miss Fay!” He chuckles. “Why Miss Fay, have you met my Christian? Pleasant lad he is, arrived last week from his father’s place in the country side. You see, his mother was the friend of my father’s friend’s daughter. Small world isn’t Miss Fay!” Mr. Warwick rambles, including excessive hand gestures. “Christian, my boy! Come meet youthful Miss Fay!”

Sounds of footsteps arise from the backroom. As I wait, Mr. Warwick smiles keenly at me and keeps waving at people passing outside. I wonder if he was dropped as a baby, and I’m sure my face is giving my thoughts away but he doesn’t seem to care. The backdoor opens and young man steps out. His hair was not long but covered his left eye, and it was evident that he had been sleeping. Through his yawn the word; “huh”, manages to escape.

“Miss Fay meet Mr. Bailey. Mr. Bailey meet Miss Fay.” Mr. Warwick begins. “Oh and please try to get up before ten O’clock in the future. You never know when we may have such beautiful guests like Miss Fay here.” His over use of ‘Miss Fay’ was starting to get on my nerves, but that didn’t stop me from blushing at his comment. “Well I’m off! Must get these things your mother sent ready for your father’s men Miss Fay. Watch the shop for me my lad. I’ll be back around three!” And with two claps of his hands, Mr. Warwick picks up his crate and leaves onto the main street, our eyes following his back.

“Well,” Christian commences, turning back to me, “nice to meet you Miss Fay.”

“You too, and please just call me Vivian,” I reply, watching him move from the shadows at the back of the shop into the light, revealing the smirk that lay upon his face. He takes his place leaning against the counter next to me. “Or Viv, some people call me that too.”

“Ok Viv, and just call me Chris,” he adds in a cheeky tone, brushing the hair from his face. “Your father is the Guard Captain?” I nod. “So I can expect to see you at the homecoming banquet tonight?” He looked at my intently waiting for my reply. But all I could register was the faded scar that tattooed his left cheek bone. Not wanting to be rude I finally manage some words.

“You’re going?”

“Well believe it or not, but I didn’t just come here to spend time with my new roommate,” he replies, making me smile. “I’m actually Princess Elizabeth’s archery instructor.”

“Oh I heard she wanted to learn archery for her eighth birthday. So you’re good?” I inquire. Truthfully I had quite a good relationship with the young princess and knew she didn’t really like archery at all, but in fact only wished to take classes to be more like her older brothers; David, who is 12, and Kaleb, 18. 

“I like to think so,” he says with a shrug, “What about you, any special talents?”

Visions of the blood soaked woman flash into my head. “Umm, no. Not really.”

“So what do you do all day? Carry crates for your mother?” he asks, putting on a traumatized expression. I laugh.

“Not at all! I spend most of days at the Picketson’s stables.” I reply, noticing his clueless nod, and adding; “Its east of the place grounds, and they breed most of the guard’s horses there. Its run by Bill and Mary Picketson, and they pay me to help out. It’s great; you’ll have to see it.” Am I rambling? I hope I’m not rambling.

“Maybe you can show me sometime?”

“Of course.” I offer gladly.  Somehow I had gone from being forced into child labour, to be given a feather from a mad man, to flirting with a young gentleman, all before ten-thirty in the morning. I’m predicting today will be quite eventful; not to mention the banquet tonight. “Oh I’m sorry, but I forgot I have to meet my cousin!” I give an apologizing look, “but I should defiantly show you the stables.”

“That’s alright. Have a good day Miss Vivian,” he says bowing his head.

“You too Mr. Bailey.” I return a curtsey; a smile playing at my lips, and hurry out the door.

Chapter 2:

This is the end; there’s no way I could go on living now. How did this happen? How could this happen? I sink to the ground; sliding down the wall, and hug my knees as if they were a lover I’d never see again. Surely there must be some good in the world.

“Vivian?” Claudia whispers to me “trust me it will be okay.” How could anything ever be okay again, I wonder? “Viv, it’s just a dress.”

“That’s what you say now! Soon it will be tight bodices with thigh high skirts! They’ll call you Miss Claudia, and not the Miss Claudia they call you now might I say. Instead they’ll say it with spite and darkness; as if talking to an alleyway wh…”

“Vivian!” She yells cutting me off; just able to contain her laughter she whispers; “my father is just behind that wall,” gesturing towards her bedroom door.

For the past hour, Claudia and I have been sorting out our outfits for the banquet tonight. Actually I shouldn’t say that; we’ve spent this time sorting out Claudia’s outfit for tonight. I’ve known what I was going to wear since nine O’clock this morning; a dress my father bought me. My current dilemma though, is with what my sweet cousin has just discovered in her attire, and had become determined to wear. That is, if she fits in to it…

“I’ll fit in to it. I can read your face, you think I won’t.”

“You haven’t worn it since you were twelve!”

“And it was huge! The tailor did a terrible job on the size, but now I’m more… developed,” she grins, “I’m telling you Viv, it’s going to fit.” I watch her with my worried eyes as she goes behind the curtain to change. I imagine her in the deep blue dress, just able to walk with it hugging her sides. Just think of the abuse I would get from her father (and my own), if I let her wear such a garment!

She emerges with a satisfactory smile upon her lips; “told you.”

***

I feel the glances sweep over us as we approach the Grand Hall, but they seem to pause a second longer on Claudia. “I am so dead. Your father is going to kill me when he sees you.”

“Exactly; when he sees me,” she says in that cunning way of hers.

“You’re kidding me! You think you can hide from your father all night?” The amount of looks she was getting convinced me this would be an impossible task. “You’re lucky we escaped from your room without him seeing you!” We had persuaded him to leave early through another one of Claudia’s clever plans. This one involved me apologizing for styling her hair, and causing a beauty dilemma which would need another hour to fix. This he of course replied with a; “maybe next time just stick to a simple hairstyle Vivian,” and then stalked off.

We enter the main courtyard, just before the hall, and wait with the crowd. I notice the finely dressed women wearing charlilia buds around their necks, a grey-blue flower with golden leaves – the sign of the Royal Army. A small group of children are handing them out, and Claudia drags me over to get one with her. She turns, placing one over my head.

“Well I suggest,” she begins, but is caught in another thought. “Actually don’t mind me. Prince Kaleb seems to be watching you.” I follow her eyes in an inconspicuous manner to far corner of the courtyard, where the eldest of the Reinhart children, the seventeen year old Prince, is talking with a guard. Odd, I think, usually the Royal family enters the hall for such celebrations by the back, arriving after the crowds to officially start the banquet. Claudia was right though, he was sneaking glances at me, making me quickly look away when our eyes meet.

My childhood, and current life, has always been closely linked with the Royals, though I’m far from being royal myself, I assume I could be considered a member of a noble family. My father was promoted into the Royal Guard almost ten years ago, and the current king, King Eli Reinhart, kept his official guard close by, and often became quite acquainted with their families. I guess this was for security reasons, but it meant I was often in the palace grounds. My father soon was raised to Royal Guard Captain, putting him in charge of the Kingdom's protection. So through my connections with my uncle and father, I was kept within the Royal’s eye. I even did needle work lessons with the Princess.

Prince Kaleb though, he was restricted. I have had short conversations with all the Reinhart family, including the King, many with Princess Elizabeth and the Queen, but Kaleb rarely acknowledged me. I didn’t take it as an insult, he had his position and I had mine. Occasionally at official gatherings he would greet me, remind me about the great work my family contributed to the Kingdom, smiled nicely and moved on. He honestly comes off as a wonderful gentleman; honourable and kind, just I sometimes think perhaps he limits himself with people too much for them to always notice.

He paces towards me now; intense, serious blue eyes aimed in my direction. Claudia is getting skittish, and squeezes my hand quickly before edging away into a flock of people - leaving me an open target. It’s not that I don’t like him, or even feel intimidated by him, but the rareness of his current actions has made me suspicious. His lips are pursed, and I try to lighten the mood by putting a large smile on mine. A flash of sadness crosses his face as I do this. Soon he stands less than a meter away, and I notice his left hand is slightly shaking. What could possibly trouble this collected young prince so much as to make his hand tremble, and why on earth is he standing in front of me? Just as my mind begins to race, he opens his mouth to speak.

“Viv.” He sounds startled and I barely hear that he used my nick-name. He clears his throat to continue; “Miss Fay, I regret… I regret to inform you… Dear Miss Fay, I regret to inform you, could you please join me in… I’m so sorry but…” He is lost for words. Never have I seen or heard of the young prince behave in such a way. I don’t know what to say. Maybe nothing? I wait for him to find his voice. But he doesn’t, and we stand in silence.

Until the silence is broken by a woman’s scream.

***

It hit me then, the reality of what just happened. My eyes sweep over the crowd and stop back at Kaleb. Did he know? Is this what he was trying to tell me? I can feel my knees buckling under me, but take no notice of whose hands are reaching out. They don’t make it in time, and I fall to the ground.

It happened so fast, yet I remember it in slow motion; the moment my eyes caught sight of the distraught woman, her cries of pain as she ran into the courtyard, her fair hair wisped across her face, and the red that stained her hands. But it was her words that struck my chest; that knocked me from this world and left me broken on the floor. The desperate cry that filled her voice, and the words that hit the masses like a slap to the face; it all echoed in my ears. He… He took his… Sir Henry Fay… His life, he took his life! In the forest, he just lied there… I… I tried to help… But he was already… gone. Then came the extended silence, or at least it felt like it to me; mouths moved but made no sound, and tears fell without any sobs. Have I gone deaf? Will these be the last words I hear? Another scream pieces the air and I quickly wish they were.

“Mother! Mother!” I cry; my eyes desperately searching the crowd, turning to towards her shrieks. Strong hands lift me to my feet and steady me by the shoulders. I push them away and lose myself in the people. It seems like eternity, wondering the courtyard with barely enough strength to stand. Finally someone pulls me away. “Mother?” I plea as I twist to them.

“No. No Vivian, its Christian; Christian Bailey from this morning.” It takes me a moment to realize who this Christian is when all my head is doing is screeching for my mother. And for my father… “Vivian, come this way. Your mother’s been taken inside.” He pulls me along from the hand into the hall, leaving the nightmare filled courtyard behind us. I take no notice of the turns we make or the number of doors he opens, and my eyes finally refocus once we reach a small room.

“Sweet Miss Fay.” The Queen beckons from where she holds my tearful mother in her arms. The room I’ve been brought to appears to be a private study, crammed with a few of the guard, my distressed mother, the King and his wife, and even Prince David hiding in the corner. Christian leads me over to her, letting go of my hand once I’m in the safety of my mother’s cradle. Then the door flies open, and Prince Kaleb marches in, back to his controlled self, followed by Claudia and Uncle Rupert.

The room stays hushed; nothing but the now quiet sobs of its occupants hangs in the air. Henry Fay, Sir Henry Fay Captain of the Royal Guard, my mother’s loving husband and lover, young Claudia’s generous uncle, sincere brother to Rupert Fay, loyal friend to the Royal family. My father…

Is dead.

Chapter 3:

The rest of the night was blur of tears and whispers. Celebrations continued but the banquet was called off. I remember Uncle Rupert holding my mother’s hand, and a short carriage ride home. I woke up this morning still wearing my dress from last night. My eyes were sore and stung to touch, not to mention the ache I felt deep in my chest as if my heart had been ripped out and replaced with a gaping hole of despair. My curse had finally done it- take something I held dearer than my own life. I try to scream but my voice shatters, and I could almost see it as it drops broken the floor in surrender. What now? I plead, what do I do now?

Just as I begin to close my eyes and keep them like that for as long as I could, the sun from my window catches sight of an object on my dressing table and illuminates it. It takes me a moment to realise it’s the delicate feather Mr. Warwick had given me yesterday. I watch it for awhile, consumed by the vast range of colours I had hadn’t notice before. I suddenly start to feel calmed, and the thoughts in my head are no longer screaming at me; but passing by like leaves caught in the wind.

I run through my memories, beginning with arriving at the court yard. Prince Kaleb’s face pops into my head and reminiscence of his scattered and nervous speech soon follows. He must have known and of course was shaken by the news, but too shaken to tell me? I know Kaleb gives bad news often to families when soldiers die away on missions. He believes it apart of his duties as Prince and future King. So why was he lost for words? It was so unlike him. I narrow it down to the fact my father was very close with the Royal family and he must have been feeling a great loss.

The next event follows in my head despite my urgent begs for it to not. The red woman... And her words. My mind begins to race hearing again the words I had tried to block out. Sir Henry Fay... Took his life... Immediately before all the emotion I felt last night is about to flood me in all over again, the door creaks open. Uncle Rupert’s head inches though and looks at me. The grief is obvious on his face which only makes it more real.

“I heard you sobbing,” he says in a very soft tone I rarely hear him use. I hadn’t even realised my eyes could still cry. “I slept here last night, Claudia did too.” There was pause for a long moment, as we registered the pain in each other’s eyes. “Arrangements have been made, if you and your mother wish, to move in with me on the palace grounds. The Queen suggested it last night. That we stay close, as family should.”

I nod once slowly, knowing I couldn’t conjure up any noise. He replied with a sad smile and approached my bedside. I lift myself up, something I was unsure I’d ever do again, and fling me arms around him. We hug and I finally comprehend that I would never hug my father again. The realisation hits me like a tsunami, and he lets me cry in his arms for what feels like hours.

***

I sit on my bed in my new room, Claudia behind me braiding my hair, and stare at the black gown laid out before me. Its bodice is covered in lace, and the long sleeves had been hemmed back to fit me.

“I think it was grandma’s,” Claudia says softly, tucking the last bit of hair away.

“I wish they hadn’t had altered it,” I murmur in return. “Grandma hated people touching her things.”

“It would have looked silly otherwise, plus I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you wearing it.”

I slide off the bed and hold it up. “I suppose she doesn’t have much of a choice.”

Claudia leaves to change into her own black dress, and I put on mine. I look depressing, like a burnt feather. On that thought my eyes glance over to my bedside table. In the top draw sits Mr. Warwick’s gift. I had considered throwing it away when we were packing since I don’t really like clutter, but for some reason I had kept it. I walk over and retrieve it, stroking the smooth barbs before poking it into the charcoal netting attached to my head band. It hangs perfectly, and doesn’t at all look like a bird had crash-landed into my head as I thought it might. Instead it distracts slightly from the dullness; a pinprick of colour in a lightless world.

I go down stairs to where the my mother, uncle, and cousin are congregating. They each give me a hopeful smile, and then we leave together for the cemetery.

Its early morning, and the shadows of the trees submerge us. We stand together and welcome others who have come to say a final goodbye to my father. I become aware some individuals  have brought candles and incense to burn after the service.  Among them is Mr Warwick, who at sight of my head piece sends me an odd look. I couldn’t tell if it was one of approval or sadness, perhaps a mix of both.

The area of the ceremony is humbly set up. Royal Guard flags beat in the morning wind, and a small array of charlilias  sprout from around the grave site; the strong smell of newly turned dirt still present. Amidst the hushed voices and gathering towns folk, the royal carriage pulls up, accompanied front and back by royal guard. Kaleb steps out first, offering a hand to his mother and sister, followed by the King and Prince David. The girls wear incredibly elegant dresses that would have blended with the night; both their faces hidden behind a shroud of lace, and the king is draped in his velvet cape.

Men from my father’s unit finish giving us their condolences, and the Royal family approach.  My mother, Claudia, and I curtsy and Uncle bows his head.

“Dear Hannah... You will make it through this, and we will do whatever we can to help,” the Queen offers, taking my mother’s hand, as they share a sad look. “I will lend my strength to you for as long as you might need it. You and your family have helped shape this kingdom, and so I promise, you are not alone in this.” The hope in her eyes seems so comforting, but it does not affect my mother. Her own deep eyes still hold nothing – as they have since that night.

“We are all so sorry for your dreadful loss,” King Reinhart continues. “Henry... Henry was a good man and a great captain. I doubt he will ever really be replaced in our ranks. It is true the Fay family has done much for our Kingdom. We are so grateful, and so very, very sorry.” He speaks to each of us as he says his words, sounding so sincere I would have believed anything he said.

My mother and uncle thank them and Claudia and I curtsy again. Then the King takes his wife’s hand and leads her away, gesturing for his children to follow. Two of them comply; little Elizabeth wiping away her tears as she leaves. But Kaleb remains, finally lifting his eyes from the ground, he speaks. “Sir Fay will be greatly honoured amongst this Kingdom’s history. The results of his final mission saved many lives, and no matter what the circumstances are surrounding his death, he will have a hero’s farewell. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you Prince Kaleb. It is greatly appreciated,” Uncle Rupert replies before Kaleb joins his father.    

***

To be continued.. :)

Now if you actually read all that.. and liked it, please say so! I need some encouragement! I really want to write this story bumbling inside my head because theres so much in it and I feel like it needs to be told. I've even drew a map up of the world its set in, and plan on sketching out scenes to aid my writing:)