I Kill Monsters: Fury (Book 1) (31 page)

I
wish
to
offer
you
employ
in
my
service
, the
lord Vinci explained.
The
task
is
quite
simple
,
yet
it
pays
handsomely
.
When he told me how much I could make I did not quite understand,
but I knew it was more than anyone in my village had ever seen.
What
must
I
do
to
earn
this
? I asked, thinking what I could use the remuneration
for. Sasha was in need of shoes.

The
employment
is
two
-
fold
, the lord explained,
and
each
task
is
quite
simple
,
really
.
Firstly
,
you
must
vow
silence
and
promise
never
to
tell
anyone
you
work
for
me
.
Can
you
keep
a
secret
? It was
the way he asked, his voice genuine, bereft of subterfuge, yet
imparting the seriousness of the request. If he was hiding
anything, it was not anything that would harm me or my family. I
averred I could.
Excellent
! he looked pleased and described
the nature of the work. When strangers passed through our town, I
was to greet them and direct them to the grand manor house, where
the lord may extend them his hospitality and a warm bed for the
evening, a respite from the hard road.

It all sounded innocuous enough, and I
readily agreed. The lord was pleased.

I do not know what compelled me, where my
temerity came from, but I asked the lord if I may not ask him a
question. He indicated I should proceed.
Do
they
cause
you
much
hurt
? I asked him of his
hands. A look crossed his face briefly, a look I had not seen there
all evening nor at our first meeting. It was not anger and to call
it concern would be too strong a word. I believe, what it was, was
a recognition on his part that I had recognized this of him.
My
hands
, he held them up in the candlelight,
pondering them. I could see them clearly now, gnarled and veiny,
the nails filed into sharp points. And still no tocsin sounded in
my mind, no warning.
They
do
not
pain
me
, he admitted.
I
have
…
a
condition
.
It
accounts
for
their
appearance
.

Most
do
not
notice
them
,
however
, and he looked at me,
again, pleased, for what reason I did not know.
Yet
you
do
.
I
thank
you
for
your
concern
.

I wished him a good night and left, following
in the path of my siblings. I was lost in his spell then, though I
did not recognize it. That we were invited into a stranger’s home
late at night for a meal fit for kings, that this did not strike
any of us as cause for concern…that this man, however kind and
generous, had sat there and not eaten and then spoke of eating
alone after all had left…that his hands, despite their grotesque
appearance, had not been noticed by my brothers and sisters…

As I walked home I thought about this man and
the evening. Did the lord know my father would be unable to attend
his feast? Did he suspect it would cross my mind to never invite
our father to begin with? Somehow I thought it had and he did. How
or why, I knew not, but I realized there was more to this man than
the trappings of majesty, than a regale air. He had revealed some
aspect of himself to Feigl’s boys at the stream. We were there but
we had missed it. No, that was not correct. I could not say we had
missed it, because we were not cognizant of it. It had been hidden
from us, even as it was revealed to those with us.

He had revealed something of himself to me
with his hands, to all of us with the acknowledgement of his coming
meal. But we were enraptured, and, as such, imperceptive. And,
perhaps, I can admit it now, we were ignorant—
I
was
ignorant—because we chose to be.

A few days went by and our lives continued as
they had. We arose at dawn, our father more often than not shaking
off a drunk, and worked the land. Most evenings after supper we
made our way down the road, past the manor house, past Maleva’s,
bearing the taunts and barbs of Gerald and his brothers, to relax
in the stream. The days were growing longer and the night shorter.
The air was warming up in the day, though still chill at night. We
kept that wonderful dinner among ourselves, my siblings and I, and
spoke not about it to one another.

The next stranger came to our village nearly
a fortnight after our meal with the lord. We were returning from
the stream in the cool of evening, relieved that Gerald and his
brothers were apparently in their home for the night. The stranger
and his horse looked the worse for wear, as though each had been on
the road for some time. We quieted as we passed him and once we
were passed I trailed my brothers and sisters that I may speak to
him. The man looked dogged and hungry and seemed surprised when I
approached him, introduced myself, and told him of the lord’s
offer. His weariness gave way to relief as I spoke and he thanked
me, asking me direction to the manor house. I complied and sent him
on his way.

That night, as my sisters and brothers slept
through my father’s snores, I was awake. I extricated myself
carefully from the bed we shared and stepped across the wooden
floor to the open window, where I stood and stared out at the dark
land under the stars. In the distance I heard a clamor of horse and
carriage and as I watched a tumbrel passed on the road, drawn by an
immense black steed. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stared. I
could discern no driver in the cart, no one guiding the horse. Were
my eyes deceiving me? When the horse and cart had passed I stood at
the window for sometime, until fatigue crept over me. I climbed
back into bed amidst the warm press of bodies that were my
family.

The next morning when I awoke and went
outside to fetch wood for our stove’s fire, I noticed something
reflecting the first rays of the sun from the wood pile. I bent
down to retrieve it and stared in disbelief at the object in my
hand. A gold coin of some sort. I had never actually held one or
even seen one, but I knew what it was because of Maleva’s stories
and father’s oft-repeated answer to the query, what was it that
Feigl did with his days?
He
counted
his
gold
. He counted his gold. And now I had gold of my own. I
looked around quickly, but no one had seen me, and I secreted the
coin in my breeches where it would rest until later that day when I
could hide it in a suitable spot.

There were several strangers come through our
town that season, and with them came rumors. The boyars were
approaching, it was said, as there was a question of the land
ownership now that the old lord was gone. I could not conceive what
questions there might be. A new lord was ensconced in the manor
house, a house he had spent untold sums upon to renovate, to
restore to a glory it had never known. The strangers came and I
greeted as many as I could, warning them away from the swamp,
inviting them to rest at the lord’s house. I did this discreetly,
less Leonid or Mina or one of our neighbors became suspicious, but
I was a peasant boy, and no one paid me any mind.

And every morning there was a new shiny coin
sparkling in the sun among the wood pile awaiting me. I quickly
amassed quite a little collection and, as I counted my own
treasure, considered how best to spend my earnings. Sasha needed
shoes. There were some instruments I had heard father wish for to
better tend to the soil. Between the direction of strangers and the
appearance of a new coin was the dead of night. It was within this
period of time that I became aware of a correlation I had
previously been ignorant of. Each time I directed a stranger to the
manor house, the horse and carriage would pass by our cottage on
the road in the dark, towards the swamp, towards the unknown beyond
our land. And in the morning, a coin.

I was ignorant, yes, but I was not stupid.
Did I know then there was a relationship between the strangers who
were seen to enter our village but not to leave and the night’s
rider-less tumbrel? Of course. But I chose to ignore the obvious.
As Fritz would remark some two hundred years later,
the
bite
of
conscience
,
like
the
bite
of
a
dog
into
a
stone
,
is
a
stupidity
. Amid the heat of
the coming summer, amid the escalating molestations of Feigl’s
sons, I dutifully directed those passing through to the manor,
where each willingly went, lured by my promises of the lord’s
hospitality. And finally, Sasha had her shoes.

I was rarely alone during the day, as it was
my usual place aside my father in the fields. But one unusually hot
day I took it upon myself to fetch a bucket and head to the stream,
my intention to bring some cooling waters to my family. The Feigl
boys were out in front of their cottage. When they saw me, they
moved out onto the road to block my path.

Perhaps it was the atypical heat of what
should have been a spring day, but their humors were especially
foul as I came upon them. I do not recall the words that were
spoken, though I remember they were intended to hurt and humiliate
as they always were. I do not remember whether it was something I
said, some nearly imperceptible gesture or some perceived slight,
but I remember the sting as I was pushed from my feet to the dusty
road, my bucket clattering off. I recall the humiliation as they
laughed and the fear as they loomed above me, speaking to one
another of what they could do to me, of what they would do to
me.

You
must
pay
the
toll
, the littlest one said,
to
pass
on
this
road
. What struck me about Symeon’s saying it
was how ugly the child was, deformed-almost from where the midwife
had crushed his head. That he should say it, demanding it on behalf
of himself and his brothers, as a troll in one of Maleva’s tales
would demand some exaction for passage over its bridge, little ugly
Symeon, it seemed so apropos. But I was frightened. It was broad
daylight and someone would be about shortly, passing on the road,
coming in from the fields. These execrable boys, knowing this, and
still undaunted. And me, only nine.

This
is
our
road
,
snarled Ezra. Gerald looked amused by their toying with me, but I
am sure he would rather be visiting some indignity on Leonid or
Mina as they were older and their discomfiture all the more
gratifying to his sadistic soul.
Yes
,
our
road
, piped up the little ugly one.
What
capitation
do
you
bear
to
grant
your
passage
? This from Ezra.

It came to me then, as I sat in the dust, my
body shivering, fear coursing through my body. I remembered I did
bear a thing of not inconsiderable value that might assuage their
depravity and hasten the cessation of this cruel-hearted
intimidation. I reached into my breeches and offered them a gold
coin I kept with me. Their eyes immediately lit up. Suddenly Gerald
was interested. He snatched the coin from my hand and stood there
studying it, holding it up to his eye, biting it, shaking his head,
wondering where I had gotten such a treasure.
Let
me
see
it
!
Let
me
see
it
!
Symeon was dancing around his brothers. Ezra reached out to touch
the coin and Gerald slapped his hand away.
Where
did
you
get
this
? He turned to demand of me but I
had already retrieved my bucket and scurried off, back to the
fields, abandoning my pride and my plan to bring fresh water from
the stream to my family.

My troubles that day were not over, but they
came from an unexpected quarter. After supper my father was
drinking, which was not unusual in itself, when he asked Leonid to
take the other children from the cottage. Leonid looked at me, and
the look he gave me was concerned, but he gathered Mina, Viktor and
Sasha and took them from our home. My father was sitting at the
table, gazing at me. I waited, disconcerted.
How
did
you
pay
for
the
shoes
your
sister
wears
? he asked. I was suddenly
very scared of my father and for him.
Of
him because, though
my father was no cruel man, he did not hesitate to take the switch
to us when he felt it called for.
For
him because no matter
how hard he worked he had not been able to afford a decent pair of
shoes for his youngest child. But here, so unexpectedly, without
warrant or visible means, I had done so. I, a nine-year-old child.
My action had affronted his pride, though I had never intended
such.

I could have told my father the truth. I
could have told him of that first night at the stream, of meeting
the lord. I could have told him of the feast Vinci had prepared, a
feast he had invited my father to. I could have explained how the
lord offered my employ, asking me to greet wayfarers, to direct
them to partake of his bounteousness. I could have been completely
honest with my father and told him of the rider-less steed in the
dead of night, of my mounting suspicions that those I directed to
the manor house did not leave as they had arrived. But I did
not.