Page 6 of Apple Boy

BREAD AND BUTTER

The chill of the autumnal morning remained in the soil, and the apples at ground level were cold to the touch. I began picking and tossing apples into the basket Adam had discarded. It was easy, monotonous work and with the repetitive movements I soon fell into a rhythm and felt my muscles warm.

I sang to myself as I collected—rhythmic songs that I recalled nanny singing to me as a child. The songs gave comfort and helped me keep up my focus and my speed.

I’d filled the two baskets by the time Adam returned. I saw him in the lane as I was unloading the second basket into our bushel bin. He was scowling and appeared dejected. As he approached something inside me tugged. I was shocked to see the right side of his face was bright red and knew he’d been slapped. Instinctively, I wanted to reach out and caress the inflamed skin. When our eyes met, I perceived that he knew I knew who had done this to him. He had not escaped his punishment at all. Fury flared in my chest. If I were in Thorn, I would have one of my father’s men pay a visit to Farmer Sewell so the bastard could fight a brute who was his match.

Adam said nothing when he met me, but I could see from the sad look in his eyes that all was not well. He held small covered water flask and a folded cream cotton bundle in his hand. He handed the bundle to me. It was warm. I unwrapped the cloth to find two wedges of fresh white bread, slathered with melting golden butter, and in-between there was a large thick slice of greasy bacon. My eyes widened, and I salivated as the scent of the meat hit my nostrils. I hadn’t tasted meat in weeks. To my chagrin I became a little choked up with gratitude and looked up at Adam, amazed by such kindness.

“Go find a corner an’ eat that quick so we can get to pickin’. Don’t let him see ye.” Adam warned. He looked around worriedly, bit his lip, and then said, “Here, I know a place.”

Adam strode further up the laneway. I deposited my basket in our bushel bin and scurried behind, holding the wrapped packaged to my chest as if it were a treasure. We walked for several minutes along the lane with the tall, pale wall enclosing the orchard to our left and open pasture to our right where several horses, two milking cows, a bull, and four goats were corralled in separate pens. When the wall ended and turned its corner, Adam also turned scrambling into the bushes that skirted the wall. I followed. Soon enough Adam paused where a doorway into the orchard had been bricked up, but the recess and a stone step remained. He lowered to sit on the step, and I sat beside him. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

“Well, go on then,” he urged. “Are ye goin’ te eat that or clutch it to yer chest like a babe?”

I woke from my daze and laid the warm cotton covered parcel on my lap. I opened it once again to allow the scent of fresh bread and bacon to invade my senses. I turned to look at Adam, who eyed the food and unconsciously licked his lips. It dawned on me then that he’d probably not breakfasted either and this meal was supposed to be his. Humbled, I tore the bacon into two parts.

“Share this with me, please,” I said offering him bread and meat.

Adam’s mouth hitched to a wry grin as he grabbed his half of the meal. “I hoped ye’d say that.”

I ate in small bites as I wanted to savor the taste. Luncheon parties in Thorn ran to ten or more courses. We would pick at meals, focusing more on the gossip of who was bedding whom, followed by lots of wine. Food was something I’d taken for granted, and starvation gave me a new appreciation for the scents and tastes of whatever I ate. This meal was to be savored and appreciated. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten softer bread or such tasty salty bacon in all my years.

Adam offered the water flask to me. I took a long cool draught and then passed it back to him. “Does it hurt?” I asked, glancing at the red patch on his cheek.

“No worse than usual,” Adam said flatly, batting my concern away. He gulped water from the flask and then sealed it. I understood I would get no more from him on the subject. It cut me to think that this kind of punishment was ‘usual.’ I had not known Adam long at all, but I that short time he’d shown me more kindness than all the inhabitants of Mallowick town put together—something I would not forget.

Adam wolfed down his bread and meat and then turned to me. I felt his eyes mapping my face as I continued picking and eating in dainty bites. Silence fell between us, and feeling awkward I met his gaze.

“What?” I asked, trying to mask my annoyance.

“Where you from?”

“Thorn,” I said, seeing no point in lying to Adam, after all, he had suffered violence in standing up for me.

“Get out of it! You’re pullin’ me leg,” he said, exasperated.

“It’s true.”

“But everyone knows Thorn ain’t a real place.” Adam insisted.

“WHAT? Yes, it is”, I folded with laughter. I had not heard anything so preposterous in my life.

“Are you sure?” I gave Adam a bemused, narrow-eyed glare.

“Well, sure, I didn’t think it was a real place,” he countered awkwardly; “I heard some stories from Crazy Amos in the tavern. He tells all kinds of tales of Thorn, so he does. Like, there’s this mad Duke who causes all kinds of trouble for the Twin Kings of Osia, and—and the bones of a giant are laid out through the forest where he fell—the length of two Osian galleons, he says, and—“ Adam paused and then looked away shyly.

“He said that in Thorn men can bed other men and not get punished.” Adam sounded almost childlike with awe as he said those words. I snickered, for not only was it mostly true, but Adam’s shyness was also rather adorable. I held his gaze and enjoyed the thrill of watching his cheeks color.

I was happy and relaxed for the first time in a long while. Adam was kind and easy on the eye. I’d liked him from the moment I’d laid eyes on him. I was so incredibly lonely, and I wanted to trust someone—I wanted to trust him, and so I told him the truth.

“There have been lots of mischievous, mad Dukes of Thorn, or as I like to call them—” I paused for dramatic effect “—my family.”

Adam pouted and his brows knitted as he processed the import of what I’d said.

“And the current mad Duke, um… well, let’s just say we both have difficult fathers.” I added with a hint of mischief.

“NO… no!” Adam insisted. “Ye gotta be pullin’ my leg! What would the son of a Duke be doing starvin’ in Mallowick town?”