Dreams and Wishes

The fire raged around William, black smoke choking him. He could hear a woman screaming and he stumbled forward, searching for her. He heard a great crash and headed for it. “I’m coming!” he called out, but his voice was lost in the chaos. The woman screamed again… and William awoke. Dawn was just turning the sky pink and the other grooms were still fast asleep. He sat up and wiped his forehead with a shaking hand.  

What does that dream mean? he wondered. Almost every night he dreamt of the fire and the wailing woman. He wasn’t superstitious, but the dream unsettled him deeply. He slid his shirt over his head and pulled on his boots, unable to go back to sleep. He carefully stepped over his sleeping friends and left the hut, the morning air already warm and damp.

The horses all whinnied with delight when they saw him enter the stable. He patted each of their noses and allowed their musty scent to fill his being. Comforted, he sighed and set to work.

                             

                                 

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Hours later the entire caravan was assembled by the front gate of the manor. The dusty road stretched out in front of them invitingly, promising adventure. The nobles mounted their horses, the front gate opened and they were away.  

William walked with the mules and wagons carrying the myriad items that would be needed for their lengthy stay in Nirennen. As the day wore on, the sun got hotter and the clouds dissipated, leaving no barrier between the heat and the travelers. William was soon dripping sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead.

Lord Samuel didn’t stop the caravan until the sun rested on the horizon, huge and red. They set up camp in a small clearing protected by trees. The nobles retired into large silk tents while the servants clustered around small fires to gossip.

After tending to the horses, William made his way towards one of the fires, his eye on the pot bubbling above it. As he drew near, he heard low, heated voices.

"...prince is softer in the head than his father. They’re letting this country go by the wayside while they feast and dance. Mark my words, once Prince Mason takes the throne we’ll end up starving!”

"I think you’ve said enough, Bertram," Luciana interjected. "From what I've heard about the crown prince, he's a very worthy and brave man. At any rate, he’s not the one who’s soft in the head." The other servants laughed and Bertram's ears reddened.

"He isn’t fit to clean boots, much less rule over us. We need someone who isn't afraid to make sure our country comes out on top.”

The servants fell silent, their smiles fading. It was one thing to complain about royals; everyone did that. But this sounded dangerously like treason and no one liked it.

Bertram glanced around at the others and scowled. "I should’ve known none of you would have the courage to speak out. This king and his little prince are the ones enforcing the laws that keep us here! Don’t you think we deserve to live our lives any way we see fit?”

The campfire crackled in the silence. William stepped into the firelight. "We aren’t slaves, Bertram,” he said quietly. “We all owe debts, and the law dictates that we pay them. Treasonous talk is not welcome here. I suggest you leave now, before things get out of hand."  

Bertram glared at William, but he and his lackeys grudgingly slunk away, grumbling amongst themselves.

Once they had gone Luciana breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad you said something, Will. He was really getting out of hand. One day his foolishness is going to get him into trouble.”

William shrugged. “He’s just angry because he has so much time left to work for Lord Samuel,” he said, dipping some stew out of the pot hanging over the fire. “No one wants to be here, but there are far worse places to be.”

Luciana rubbed her arms thoughtfully. "I have to go help Catherine undress.  Enjoy your food." She made her way to the tents and entered one, the fabric fluttering closed behind her.  

William sat down on a stump away from the other servants, eating his meal quietly. He thought about what Bertram had said about the prince. William didn’t have any great love for Prince Mason, but had heard that he was a good man. I suppose that’s all that really matters, he thought, setting his empty bowl by the fire. A low hum of voices from Catherine’s tent caught his ear and he crept up to listen.

“Don’t get smart with me, Luciana. Prince Mason has shown me particular attention the last few times we’ve attended upon him. He’s getting ready to court me, I’m sure of it."

William heard Luciana snort softly.

“Do you have something to say?” Catherine demanded.

“No milady,” Luciana said quickly.

Catherine sniffed loudly. “I should think not. You know nothing about these matters, Luciana. This trip is sure to be a great milestone for this family. I can feel it.”

There was a sudden shout and William jumped.

“You clumsy idiot! You’re supposed to brush my hair, not rip it out!” There was a loud smack and Luciana cried out in pain. "I have no further need of you and your ineptitude. Leave my sight!"  

The fabric swished and Luciana rounded the corner, cradling her face. She saw William and he grabbed her elbow before she could bolt. “Luciana, I heard her slap you. Look at me!”  

She looked at him defiantly, angry tears brimming. Her eye was swollen and bruised, reddened from crying. She jerked away from him harshly. "It's nothing, I've had worse."

Worse?

Another servant girl approached them. She was tiny and her black hair shone in the firelight. She inspected Luciana’s face and grimaced sympathetically. "I can make a salve that will bring the swelling down," she said kindly. Luciana smiled. “Thanks, Angel.”  

William watched the two women disappear among the tents. The sound of the slap still echoed in his mind and he swallowed past the lump in his throat. He unrolled a thin blanket near the fire, the air now cool and dry. He pillowed his head on his arm, squeezed his eyes shut and wished they were free.