The Cavalier (4 page)

Jonas brushed his wavy brown hair away from his face, slowly lifting himself to his feet. His jaw hurt but he still had his bread and gold coin. Smiling, he shook his head in disbelief. From his perspective, he was actually happy that he came out of that ordeal with just a bruise. It wasn’t right, but it was his reality. His happiness was relative to how much pain and scorn he could avoid. Jonas tried to never pity himself, so he shook off the incident and continued his long journey home.

The mile walk to their cabin took Jonas over an hour. His weak frame and the heavy snow hindered his progress. The walk, however, always seemed to go by quickly for Jonas, for he spent his time within the safe confines of his own mind. He watched the birds flying gracefully through the air, and the deer jumping with such ease over the brambles, and wished that he could move like them. Sometimes he would get angry and curse the gods for what they did to him. Today however, he thought about what the man had said. Maybe the gods did have a plan for him, but what would they want with a cripple? Maybe it was a test, as his mother always told him. They would sit at their hearth at night and his mother would tell him that the gods were testing his strength and his resolve, and that if he met their expectations then when he died and went to the silver city of the High One, he would be rewarded with a strong body and a wonderful afterlife. He would be able to meet Shyann, their goddess, and she would show him a life of peace and wonder.

It was a wonderful thought, but it didn’t always make his days in Manson any better. I have it better than some, he thought. I am alive, and that is something. I have a mother who loves me and we have a roof over our heads and we are not starving, although sometimes food is pretty scarce. It could be worse, Jonas thought as he emerged from the woods into the meadow that housed their little stone cabin his father built twenty years ago, before Jonas was born.

Suddenly Jonas stopped in mid-stride. Lying in the snow before him was the carcass of a large mountain elk, rare at these times since the snows usually pushed the animals to lower elevations to avoid the harsh winter conditions. A white feathered arrow protruded from the elk’s side. The animal had been gutted recently and its innards lay in a steaming pile just to the side of the large beast. The blood was fresh and the animal was obviously still warm.

Suddenly Jonas felt a gentle breeze and then something cold pressed up against his throat as a powerful hand clamped around his mouth. A strong smell of wood fire and sweat washed over Jonas as he struggled in the iron grip. Jonas was shocked by the speed and stealth of the attack.

“You wouldn’t be think n’ of stealen me kill, would ya boy?” Jonas’s assailant hissed in his ear. His breath stank of strong tobacco, similar to what Jonas had smelled from many of the men in town as they smoked their wood pipes. Jonas shook his head from side to side, his eyes wide with fright as the man’s blade moved up closer to his left eye, allowing him a glimpse of the glimmering steel. “Are you that crippled boy, Jonas?” the man asked in his ear. The man’s voice was soft and raspy but was filled with a quiet strength. Jonas nodded his head up and down in reply. Finally the man released his grip and Jonas turned around to face him.

Jonas recognized the man, for he had seen him several times in the past. He was called Tuvallus, but no one knew if that was his real name. The burly man was a hermit, a hunter and trapper who lived on his own deep in the mountains. He only came into town a few times a year to trade his dried meats and furs for supplies that he needed. He was always spoken of with a mixture of fear and awe, for people feared what they did not know and no one knew much about the strange trapper. But he always came into town with the most furs and meats to trade, a feat that was highly respected in the mountain town of Manson.
 
He rarely spoke and many people thought he was crazy.

The man was tall and wide and he wore a coat of thick mountain wolf furs. His boots were made of leather and lined with similar fur. He needed no hat for his head was draped in a mass of long curly black hair and his face was covered with a thick beard and mustache. It looked as if his entire face was hair, except for two holes for his eyes and one for his mouth. Tuvallus carried a big hunting knife in his right hand and a longbow lashed to his back next to a quiver of arrows. Dangling from his side was a sword, its pommel wrapped in black leather and the cross piece was polished silver like his knife blade; both seemed to be in contrast to his dirty and wild appearance.

“My apologies, boy, thought you might be after me kill,” Tuvallus said as he moved past Jonas and continued to dress the elk, cutting away skin and slicing off large pieces of flesh, which he laid out in the snow.

“Are you Tuvallus?” Jonas asked as he moved closer to him. The man simply grunted in response and continued to prepare his kill. “I have never seen a mountain elk this time of year,” Jonas commented as he watched the trapper expertly slice into the warm red flesh.

Tuvallus did not respond as he continued to lay out strips of elk meat.

“How did you sneak up on me in this snow? I did not hear a sound until I felt your knife,” Jonas said as the man continued to ignore him.

Jonas waited for a response while the trapper worked on the dead elk. Finally Jonas shrugged his shoulders and turned to walk away. His cabin was not too far off; he could see the smoke rising from the chimney into the frigid mountain air. He walked a few paces before turning back to Tuvallus.

“Sir, my mother has a warm fire and she is sure to have some rabbit stew boiling. Would you like to step out of the cold for a while and warm your belly with the best rabbit stew you’ve ever eaten?”

Tuvallus finally stopped and looked up from the dead elk. His face was completely covered with hair so Jonas could not read his expression. After a few moments of silence he spoke.

“You be invit n’ me to ur cabin? A man you don’t know, who just put a blade to ur throat?”

“Umm…yes. We don’t have lots of food, but it is very good. I can assure you of that,” replied Jonas confidently.

Tuvallus shook his head grunting and went back to dressing the elk. Jonas shrugged again and turned back around. He walked a few more paces before Tuvallus called to him.

“Hey, boy!”

Jonas turned around to face the trapper.

“Bring this to your mother,” Tuvallus said, tossing a large piece of elk meat toward Jonas. The bloody meat landed in the snow at his feet and Jonas picked it up with a smile. It was wet with blood and still a little warm. Jonas had never had elk meat but he had heard it was the best.

“Thank you, Tuvallus,” Jonas said excitedly.

Tuvallus simply grunted and went back to work.

Jonas put the piece of elk meat into the cloth satchel he carried on his back. He had to take out the loaf of bread so the blood from the meat wouldn’t spoil it. That was okay though; he could carry the loaf in one hand and still use his crutch since their cabin was so close. Jonas turned around and walked toward his cabin. He smiled, for he had two gifts to give his mother on this day.

 
Jonas set his crutch down, his hand awkwardly freeing the door latch. The door swung open and the warm air from within covered him like the summer sun.

Lorna, his mother, was adding some spices to their stew that was boiling in a heavy black cauldron hanging over the fire. She was a strong woman with a beautiful face despite the slight wrinkling caused by many years of hard work in the sun. She wore her long dirty blonde hair pulled back and tied with a piece of leather. She had seen over forty hard winters, many of which were laced with bitterness and scorn from her town, but she was content with her life and she smiled often, which lit up her face and made Jonas feel safe.

“Jonas, it’s about time,” his mother said thankfully. “I was beginning to worry about you.”

“I’m fine, Mother. You know it takes me a while to walk back home.” He plopped his tired body on the wooden chair that his mother had made him. The seat cushions were made of many rabbit hides stitched together and stuffed with straw. It was very comfortable and Jonas loved to rest in it before the crackling fire.

“Here is the loaf. Gorum said he would love some of your dried rosemary as payment. He said to bring it by tomorrow if you have any and he will get us another one.” Jonas handed the hard loaf to his mother and she moved to the wooden cutting board on their table.

“Thanks, Sprout. We’ll go into town tomorrow,” his mother replied as she cut several large slices from the loaf.

Jonas smiled at the nickname. He always loved how his mother did not focus on his disability; she always tried to treat him as a normal boy, including him in everything that she did. She would wait patiently for him as they picked berries in the forest, tended their garden, or set their rabbit traps. They were all each other had and he loved her dearly. Jonas smiled excitedly as he pulled out the slab of meat from his satchel.

“Mother, look at what I have.”

Lorna turned from the loaf of bread to look at the piece of meat Jonas had in his lap. “What is that?” she asked curiously.

“It is elk. I met Tuvallus the hermit on the path here and he gave me a slice of his kill to give to you,” Jonas said with a broad grin.

Lorna moved towards Jonas with a beaming smile. “Really? Tuvallus gave you that?” she asked as she took the meat from Jonas.

“He did. I have never had elk meat before. Can we cook some tonight?”

Lorna smiled at Jonas as she put the piece of meat on the table. “Yes, we can have a little tonight with our stew. I’ll dry and smoke the rest. This is a great gift, Jonas. I hope you thanked him,” she replied as she cut off a few slices of the meat.

“I did. I invited him home to eat with us, but he didn’t want to come. Mother, do you know anything about Tuvallus?”

“Not really. People in town say he used to be a soldier in Tarsis. He keeps to himself and not much is known about him,” Lorna said as she continued to prepare dinner.

Jonas thought about Tuvallus, the heat from the dancing flames stroking his tired muscles, easing his thoughts as he processed his interesting day.

They sat at their old wooden table eating the rabbit stew and bread. Lorna had fried the elk with salt and onions and it was delicious, the most incredible food he had ever eaten. It was soft, full of flavor, and it didn’t have the strong gamey flavor that he was used to in venison. Jonas held his spoon between his thumb and palm; his other fingers didn’t usually work well enough to grasp the spoon handle.

“I met a stranger in town today,” Jonas said through a mouthful of stew soaked bread.

His mother looked up startled, for it was not common to have strangers enter the mountain town of Manson during the winter. The passes would be snowed in and only the hardiest of men could traverse them.

“What did he want?” she asked concerned.

“Oh nothing, he just wanted to give me this,” Jonas said as he brought his hand down on the table and removed it quickly, leaving the gold coin spinning around like a top. It was pure luck that the coin was spinning, as he didn’t have the dexterity to do it on purpose. But the effect was dazzling as the coin spun, catching the subtle light in a beautiful dance of brilliant gold.

Jonas smiled as his mom put her hand to her mouth in shock. She quickly reached out and grabbed the sparkling coin, inspecting it closely.

“Where did you get this?” she asked with astonishment.

“I told you, a stranger with paintings on his hands helped me up when I fell. We talked a little and then he handed me this coin and told me to give it to my mother. He was so kind, and he had a sword and bow, and the most magnificent horse I’ve ever seen,” Jonas said excitedly.

“Paintings on his hands? What do you mean?” she asked.

Jonas explained to her the marks on his hands and the symbol on his steel cuirass. Lorna’s face lit up in amazement.

“He was a cavalier. I can’t believe it. I’ve heard of them but I’ve never seen one,” she said to herself. “Did he give you his name?”

Jonas looked up as he stuffed another spoonful into his mouth, “Yes, he said his name was Airos. What’s a cavalier?”

Lorna looked at Jonas with a huge smile on her face. “This gold coin can feed us well for a month. We’ll be able to get through the end of winter with warm food and full stomachs. This is a fortune, son, I can’t believe our luck.”

“I know, Mother,” Jonas said impatiently, “but what is a cavalier? He looked like a warrior.”

“I only know what your father told me many years ago. He said he saw a cavalier once in Finarth and they are warriors chosen by the gods to protect and serve the weak, and to serve the greater good of mankind. They are very rare and known to have special powers. The marks on his hands meant that he was a master swordsman sworn to uphold the High One’s word. The symbol of the High One is a four pointed star over a circle. Each point of the star represents all four elements; earth, air, water, and fire.” His mom paused to look at the gold coin in her hand. “Who you saw was a great warrior, God Marked, and you should consider yourself very lucky to have met him.” She looked again at the coin, smiling. “Actually, we should both be thankful that you met him,” she said, laughing with happiness.

Jonas, smiling at his mother, happy in her joy, continued to eat his soup, thoughts of the day’s events running through his head. “Mother, does the High One have a name? You’ve never talked about him much.”