Page 16 of Apple Boy

Adam gripped my wrist and moved my finger away. He sat up straighter and puffed out his chest. “I’m a man of honor, Win Harding. I won’t do that to a boy whose sweetheart’s gone traveling”, Adam announced his bravado at once excruciating and utterly adorable. God’s, this was maddening. He thought that Jossuah was my bedfellow. Adam had most certainly gone mad.

“Noh, no, you’ve got it all wrong, I cannot speak of this now Adam. Later, I promise, when we are alone.” I gathered my pack from beneath the seat, and, shutting down the conversation I swiftly alighted from the coach.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

JourneyMAN

Gentlemen, gentleman”, an oily voice simpered. I turned to see an overweight, jovial, ruddy-faced man.

“Will you be making use of the conveniences in this ‘earby ‘ostelry?” he said, and with a flourish of his hand directed us towards a coaching inn named TheJourneyman’s Rest.

“We have comfortable rooms, the finest wines, ales, and cider. There’s freshly baked bread an’ a side of pork roasting if you’d like to partake of some nourishment. And, for the discerning traveler, we have ladies who are happy to oblige if your appetites are of a more… practical nature.” The procurer licked his cracked lips and winked. I shuddered. “Just let me know of your particular needs, and I will ensure they are met—for a price, of course.”

I understood it was this fellow’s job to encourage customers to spend at the inn. But listening to the practiced greasy delivery of made me feel distinctly unclean.

“What time is it, man?” I said, putting on my best lordling voice. The procurer pulled a battered gold pocket watch from his waistcoat and clicked the lid open.

“Half past the sixth-hour sir.”

“Very good, very good. Presently, I need nothing you have to offer. My man will see to all of my needs. Good day to you.” I said dismissively. I clicked my fingers, “Sewell, attend.” I hollered. Gratefully understanding my performance, Adam jumped out of the coach and rushed to my side. Seeing he would get nowhere with me the procurer scowled, “If you change your mind, send your man to find me!” He turned, spied new prey, and sauntered away beginning his patter once more on a small group of men and women who were disembarking from another coach.

Adam sidled to me, “So, I’m your new valet, then, my Lord?” He said his tone one of displeasure. “How very original!”

I looked up apologetically from beneath my lashes. I had no right to treat Adam as if he were in my service if anything; it was I who was in his service. I would not have made it as far as The Journeyman’s Rest without Adam. It had seemed more straightforward to fall into the master and servant act when dealing with the ghastly procurer, but I hadn’t meant to offend my companion again!

“Sorry, I know you are not my servant. Please forgive me.” I begged. I wished I had thought about the ramifications of my actions. I did not want Adam to be moody and uncommunicative for the rest of the evening. He stared at me with those searching sea-green eyes. I worriedly returned and held his look to let him know I meant every word of my apology. The seriousness on Adam’s face softened, and he began to laugh.

“Your face!” he guffawed as if he had just played a wonderful joke on me.

“You rotter!” I shook my head, relieved that he was not mad with me again.

“Honest, I don’t mind,” Adam cajoled as he walked by my side towards the inn; “I can play yer valet if it pleases you. And you know the way of things better than me. Sure, I’ve barely been out of Mallowick in twenty-five summers.” He admitted. “So—will you teach me?”

I was confused, I stopped walking and turned to him. “Teach you what?”

“The ways of the world,” Adam said excitedly, his mood far chirpier than it had been for most of the day. Maybe the fact we were free of Mallowick had just hit home and it had emboldened him?

“I want te know everything. I want te know all of the stories in every book there ever was. And I want te know other things—ye know…things not found in books!” I glanced at Adam and saw him looking at me with all the wide-eyed boyish charms he could muster. A curl fell in front of his eyes, and he unconsciously brushed it aside then leaned close to my ear and said,

“If you really don’t have a boy back home, I want you to teach me everything you know, my Lord!” Goodness. My belly knotted in full understanding of what he was asking from me. There were many wondrous, pleasurable things in this world that I would be delighted to show Adam, but on the other side of that coin the ways of the world were not all good, and in fact, they encompassed horrors I would not want Adam ever to experience. I gave him a measured look and then shoved my pack to his chest. He oomphed out a breath and grabbed hold of it.

“This is your first lesson then, boy,” I said, taking on a haughty tone. “If you are to be my valet, you carry the baggage!”

Pushing through the groups of travelers we made our way to the inn. There were lots of customers, and I hoped that the inn had room for us. I noted that Adam had a spring in his step as he walked beside me. I was glad the cloud that had followed us for the day’s journey had lifted and his bad mood was gone. Adam was happy, and strangely enough, the fact he was in a good mood made me happy too. We were both relieved to be free men and to be away from Adam’s bastard of a father, his ridicule, brutal hands, and bullish ways. I was also glad to get away from Mallowick town and the memories of the ill-treatment I’d received there.

It was Adam’s first journey to the city, and so his excitement became infectious. Adam gamboled ahead and opened the heavy oak front door of the inn for me and bowed a little as I entered. I could not deny the frisson of sensation that twisted my gut when Adam served me. I am attracted to well-mannered men, and I liked the thought of Adam serving me—maybe a little too much for my own good!

The first smells that hit me were of roasting meat, then smoke, ale, baking bread and the sour sweat of the common man. The scents were alchemy, and at once I was starving and parched.

We spotted a robust man with silver-grey sideburns and bald pate. He was ordering maidservants to show travelers to rooms.

“I’ve got this my Lord.” Adam said to my ear. Hearing Adam call me ‘my lord’ sent another pulse of lust straight to my groin. Adam approached the landlord.

“Good evening sir. My name is Sewell, valet to Count Skraedig of Thorn. I’d like a room for my master.” Adam’s tone was kindly and respectful, but he could not alter his distinct Pasturelands accent. The landlord pursed his lips, scratched at a bristly sideburn, and eyed Adam. It was a shrewd up and down sweep of a look. The landlord never lost the tight-lipped disdain that marked his face. I wondered if Adam would pass the test, for this landlord made a good trade and he could be discerning about who he allowed to stay at his inn.

I looked at Adam with objectivity. I knew Adam’s garb was not right. It was not the well-cut livery of my real manservant, but the way he had addressed the landlord was respectful and correct. With the bruising around his nose and cheek, the lowly clothing he wore, and his accent, I wondered if we had made a mistake in calling Adam my valet for he did not look the part.

“I’ve not heard mention of Thorn in many a long year.” The landlord let out a roaring belly laugh. It was not a laugh of jest, but rather a laugh of scorn, “You do know Thorn don’t exist, don’t ye boy?” He proclaimed, all-knowing. “It’s a made up place from stories for the kiddies.” He added. “Nice try lad, but we got no room’s left. There’s straw in the stable if you wants a bit o’ shelter for the night.” The landlord suggested. He did not believe Adam was a valet and I was an aristocrat from Thorn. These yokels did not know Thorn was a real province and their lack of education about anywhere, but their own small backyards frustrated me.