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Bernard’s House
They came to a large derelict house on the edge of the village. It had been mostly constructed of stone, which was still a luxury in Thetwick. It was overgrown with vines and moss. A part of the thatched roof had collapsed, exposing some of the rafters. It had once been quite lavish by Thetwick’s standards. Ala had seen it before of course, but hadn’t really paid it much attention after she had clambered around inside it once or twice, many years before. She hadn’t found anything of interest then. There were several derelict buildings in and around Thetwick and this one had never seemed particularly special, aside from its construction. It was certainly one of the larger ones, as homes went, but it didn’t stand out because there were also some abandoned barns that were even bigger. Nothing else had ever seemed special about it.
Ala remembered that it used to have fields all around it, but new dwellings had been built between it and the centre of Thetwick so that it was now almost a part of the town proper. It had its own courtyard, well and even a small stable building. She remembered that an old man had lived here once. He had died decades before, not all that long after Bernard had left for the Regiment, she realised. The old man’s other son had lived there for a time too, she thought. She wasn’t completely certain what had happened to him.
Bernard stopped in front of the place and crossed his arms over his chest. After looking at it for a few moments, he spoke.
“Ala? Do you remember? This was my father’s house… then my brother’s till he died. Not that old Reggie ever did much with it, that I heard. He always was a bit of a layabout,” said Bernard, frowning.
He shook his head for a moment before continuing. Ala wasn’t sure whether he was speaking for her benefit or his own.
“Home sweet home… that’s what they say, isn’t it? I never really expected to see this place again, but thanks to the Duke, here we are. Back in good old Thet.” He took a deep breath before he continued, now clearly speaking to Ala, “here, you take Rico’s reins while I take a look what we’re up against.”
He stepped forward and heaved the door open, which was still seated in rusty hinges despite most of the bottom half having rotted away. He looked around inside as the boys, chests and Ala waited on the track outside, glancing uneasily at one another. Ala edged over to the doorway with the horse following her and heard him sighing deeply before he called out.
“You lot may as well come in. Unload the things from Rico and then, Ala, take Rico round the back. See if the stable is serviceable. You boys, bring my chests and things in here.”
Ala led the horse round and tied him off, whispering a calming word in elven causing Rico to look at her with interest. She saw that there were two large stalls, though they would need repairs and a thorough cleaning out. Back inside the house, there were remnants of furniture and a stone floor in the main room, which she reached through an area that was probably once a storage room. The hearth and chimney still looked serviceable, though there were some big holes in the roof where the thatch was missing. Bernard had disappeared into one of the other rooms. As Ala came in to the main room, the boys were busy manhandling the bundles and chests inside one by one.
Bernard returned from his exploration and issued his commands, telling the boys where to set everything. Ala could tell he was accustomed to getting things organised and setting tasks.
He looked at her and spoke, “looks like a bit of work to do, doesn’t it? It’s not too bad I think. Beams don’t look rotten or nothin’.”
That seemed to satisfy him as he walked around, examining the ceiling slowly nodding to himself. Ala really didn’t know why he was explaining it to her, most people avoided talking to her. Bernard was distracted by the boys dragging in the next chests.
“You bunch, put those, let’s see, over there, away from that hole in the roof. When you’ve done that, you, with the ginger hair, go and fetch the carpenter. Tell him I’m going to need a roof. Tell him that I want him to start today and that I have silver. He should bring some things to fix the roof temporarily at once. Some hides or something. Go on.”
The boy nodded and rushed out of the door.
“I guess you other three might as well make some more money and start clearing the floor. Take the debris out front. Ala, I take it you wouldn’t mind a bit of silver either? How about you check the well? If it still has any water in it, you can grab a pot from that chest, and a line, and we can get a bit of a fire going for some tea. That always makes a place more like home. Rico will be wanting some water too I imagine. Think you can manage that?”
She nodded, pleased to have another chore.
The place became a hive of activity as Bernard wasted no time putting his house in order. The carpenter arrived and was swiftly given a down payment and instructions to fix the roof, starting with some temporary planking and hides to close the hole for the time being. It wasn’t long after that that the village Constable arrived.
The Constable, Roger Marchmain, was the Duke’s official officer in Thetwick. He was appointed both to enforce the Duke’s Peace in the region and collect taxes. Collecting taxes he took very seriously, less so enforcing the peace. In fact, Ala thought he probably caused more breaches of the peace than he solved. He was a sour faced man, though he was only in his thirties. He was hated by most of the villagers. It was whispered that young children should be careful not to be caught alone with him and that he extorted money and muddled the taxes he collected when he thought he could get away with it. Ala had been around long enough that she knew the rumours to be true and more besides. He was a gaunt man with a red sheen on his nose and cheeks from too much wine and ale. He came up to the open door.
“You there, stranger,” he hissed, “who are you? What are you doing here? Explain yourself!”
Bernard looked around, taking note of the Constables badge of rank, an emblem the man wore on the left of his chest, before answering.
“My name is Bernard. This was my father’s house, now mine. I will be living here for the time being. I take it you are the Constable?”
“I am, and you may not bear arms under the Duke’s Peace! Surrender your weapons at once!”
“Actually, I think I remember you from before I left. Some things don’t change it seems. I’ll remember what your name was eventually, I’m sure. Anyway, I do have right of arms and more besides. Here, I’ll show you.”
Bernard had a leather scroll tube attached to the side of his bag, he opened it and selected one of the parchments and rolled it out. It looked very official to Ala, with a large wax seal on the bottom. He turned the document towards the constable. The man displayed the look Ala had learned to associate with people who had trouble reading. She knew the Constable had been to school, at least for a while, at the Temple of Ceres, but many of the attendees never needed to read in day to day life and consequently hardly could by the time they reached adulthood.
“I will take this with me and have it verified. In the meantime, you will need to relinquish your arms.”
“I don’t think so, Constable. One of these lads can go fetch the scribe right now.” He pointed at one of the boys, “you there, go fetch him. Now!”
As the lad ran off, Ala whispered that she could read, but she was ignored. Bernard glanced in her direction though and made a small gesture that clearly meant that she should leave it. He’d obviously heard her, though. Ala knew the Constable disliked half-elves, she’d been violently pushed out of the way by him before, usually accompanied by vicious slurs about her heritage. The Constable seemed enamoured of the alliteration of calling her a “stupid stinking half elf” whenever he remembered to. Bernard gave her a look which she could only really interpret to mean that she shouldn’t worry. He didn’t take his eyes off the Constable for more than a second though.
“Lay down your weapons, or I will declare you an outlaw!”
“It’s not going to happen Constable. I should mention that I have another document from the Duke here, authorising me to check up on your accounts. It seems the taxes have been coming up… irregular for quite a time. It’s one of the several of the Duke’s orders I will be executing while I am here.”
Ala knew that the Constable generally brought some muscle if there was anything physical to be done. Usually that meant roughing up some unfortunate villager. Without his enforcers, she sensed the man backing down.
The man scowled, “all right then, we’ll wait for the scribe.”
The scribe arrived after a tense eternity. The small man carefully studied Bernard’s document and the Duke’s seal on it.
“This is indeed a document bearing the Duke’s seal and signature that this man, Bernard of Thetwick, who is an honourably discharged Sergeant-Major-at-Arms of the Duke’s Regiment, has not only the right to bear arms in perpetuity, but may grant that right to others if he sees fit to do so, with the Duke’s blessing. It can only be rescinded by the Duke or his inheritors in person.”
“How can you be sure this document isn’t a forgery?”
The scribe shrugged.
“It has all the markings that we expect from the Duke. It is legitimate in my opinion. Whether this man is indeed Bernard of Thetwick, however, I have no idea.”
Ala spoke up then, more loudly than she had intended, “I do,” she said. Feeling self-conscious, she continued, “I knew him when he left Thetwick. This is Bernard Alanson, who used to live in this house with his father, Alan Ferdinandson and his brother, Reginald. He went to the Duke’s Regiment when he was twelve or thirteen. I remember him.”
The scribe looked a little surprised that Ala had spoken up, looking at her with a serious expression. He shrugged again.
“Alan’s son eh? I remember him too, come to think of it. Well that’s good enough for me. The strange half-child’s longevity certainly qualifies her to speak on this matter, if nothing else. It has also jogged my memory. The matter of identity is settled, insofar as I can say anything about it.”
This clearly annoyed the Constable, who turned to leave with a scowl. He didn’t have much choice, especially without his bullies to back him up. Ala had little doubt who would prevail in a physical confrontation between Bernard and Roger Marchmain. The Constable left looking even more sour than usual. Ala enjoyed it a lot. Not many people got one up on the Constable, who stormed off, red-faced. The scribe bid a formal goodbye and departed as well.
Ala made the fire, somehow anxious to make a good impression on Bernard. Her heart was still beating rapidly after the tense moments with the Constable. She used the trick she knew which she had never even dared to tell anyone about, even Palady or Aubree. Things burned when she wanted them to, including the air, if she concentrated. Flames, cold and heat also didn’t bother her much, she’d noticed. She had a fierce blaze going in seconds. She looked round worried she had overdone it and she did see Bernard looking quizzically at the size of the fire, rubbing his temple with his hand.
“That’s quite some fire, lass. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a fire be made quite so rapidly… well it’s an important skill, could have used you on campaign. Don’t burn the place down though.”
He smiled warmly at her as he said it, though.
“Yes Bernard.”
She said and quickly put the pot of water on the fire, feeling herself blushing.
“I’ll go and see to Rico…”
She rushed out to escape Bernard’s curious looks.
Things calmed down after a procession of workmen arrived and began repairs. They started off by removing anything that could no longer be used. Bernard obviously had coin to spend and he sent her down to the town centre to purchase some ingredients for a stew as well as some less perishable supplies and horse feed. There were plenty of stalls and peasants out selling things whenever a caravan was in town. She also managed to exchange a few more sentences with Rosamund even although the young woman was still busy trading.
“Oh, hey Ala. Still busy I’m afraid.”
“Sorry to bother you… could I ask one question?”
“Alright.”
“That warrior who was travelling with you… do you know anything about him?”
“Bernard? Uhmm, not really. We’re obligated to take the Duke’s passengers, he’s one of them. Paid though he didn’t have to. Said he was originally from here. Why?”
“I was just curious, I was talking to him… and well… he seems to know my… aunt.”
“Well, he seemed a nice enough bloke. I bet he’s a veteran soldier. No idea why the Duke sent him here.”
“But the Duke did send him?”
“The Duke has to sign an order to transport passengers who have to be listed by name, so I’m fairly sure he did. Oh, here comes my next appointment. I have to run.”
“Thank you!”
Ala finished her shopping and hurried back to Aubree’s house. Bernard had also asked her to go by her house and ask Aubree to join him for the meal, too. When she went home, Aubree asked her lots of questions. She seemed a little suspicious, but also intrigued.
“You’re sure? His name is Bernard? He’s retired from the Duke’s Regiment?”
“Of course I’m sure, Aubree… I’m not dense. I did ask him. Bernard Alanson. I remember him from when he was little. I also checked with the caravaneers, they’re certain he was sent by the Duke, too.”
“Sent by the Duke? Truly? I’m sorry Ala. I’m not doubting you. It’s just unexpected is all. I didn’t think he would ever come back.”
Aubree was thoughtful for a moment. Tucking her momentary irritation away, Ala thought she saw a twinge of a smile on Aubree’s woman’s face just before she spoke again, “well, certainly someone I never expected to see again… and now asking me to dinner, out of the blue.” Aubree’s smiled grew wider, as if she’d decided she liked the idea.
“You knew him?”
“I did. He… was a friend. My best friend, really.”
Aubree was clearly considering the invitation. Ala had expected her to turn it down out of hand, like she’d done with numerous suitors over the years. What history was there between Bernard and Aubree she wondered? After a moment, Aubree nodded and spoke with the same smile, “alright, go and tell him I’ll be along shortly. It’ll be good to talk to him, at least, I think.”
Having a lot of time on her hands Ala had become as good as cook as she could. Not that there was a massive variety of things to learn in Thetwick, the ingredients available were limited and often the same, but it was still possible to make it tasty with a little effort and by adding herbs. She had learned a little about herbs from the healers that travelled to the village from time to time. When she was out in the forest she would gather plants that were common to the Westmarch and then trade them for more exotic spices with passing caravans, which helped to make her cooking a little more varied than the norm.
She walked back to Bernard’s house, which now had some temporary repairs. Hides and planking were tied over the roof to cover the holes and make it watertight. She made her way to the door and knocked on it, for propriety’s sake.
“Ah Ala, come in. Did you speak to Aubree?”
“I did. She accepts the invitation.”
“Truly? Very good,” Bernard was smiling too. No, he was beaming, she decided. Whatever had gone on between him and Aubree decades ago certainly included some very good memories.
“I’ll just start sorting out some dinner,” Ala said. “The longer we can let it simmer, the better.”
Bernard gestured for her to go ahead and she got started, it was a simple recipe but she had learned that frying a lot of the ingredients before putting it all in the pot together improved the taste considerably. After she had set it to simmer, she looked after Bernard’s horse. Bernard was directing the boys doing something that clearly required teamwork and shouting. She grabbed some wooden bowls and tin cups from the chest and noticed more weapons beneath. Next she added some more wood onto the fire and quietly intensified the fire’s heat to make sure the new logs hardly smoked.
“Ala… that’s uncanny. I’ve never seen anything like that before… is that something all… err… half-elves can do?”
She jumped. People generally didn’t manage to sneak up on her and she had assumed she would notice anyone approaching. Bernard had seen her manipulating the fire. It was the first time anyone had ever caught her.
“Please.. please don’t tell anyone!” she cried. She knew what the people thought of witches. She could only imagine what they might do to a half-elven one.
“No reason for alarm young lass. I’ve been around. Seen a few things. Not exactly that, if I’m honest, but I’m not as easily perturbed as folk around here. I won’t tell anyone. I promise. Really. I won’t.”
“Please don’t!”
“Ala, I said I promise to keep it to myself. I meant it. Who else knows? Aubree?”
“No, no, I haven’t told anyone… ever, they all think I’m strange enough as it is…”
“Not even Aubree?”
“No! It would only worry her!”
“Is that… a normal skill… for your people?”
“I don’t know any other half-elves… sir…”
“Oh yes. Of course, how could I forget? Alright, alright…. calm down. It will be our secret. As long as you don’t call me ‘sir’ any more…” he looked over to the simmering stew.
“Looks like you know your cooking too. Smells good!” It broke the tension.
“Is that… alright?”
“More than alright, hope it’s ready soon. Reminds me I’m going to be needing a housekeeper. Interested?”
“Everyone says I’m too young to be a servant.”
“You’re older than I am. You make excellent, completely smokeless, fires and you can do it in seconds. Looks like you can cook. You know horses and hunting. You’ve done all the schooling Thetwick has. Not sure what more I could ask for by way of qualifications?”
“I’ll have to ask Aubree. She needs some taking care of too.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’m not a very good cook. You help me out. I’ll teach you a thing or two about sword fighting… if you want, of course.”
She looked up at him, wondering if he was serious. He certainly looked it. She grabbed her chance.
“Agreed,” she said, quickly and forcefully, before he could change his mind. Bernard looked at her, taken aback by how forcefully she had spoken.
“What happened to asking Aubree?”
She just shrugged.
“As you said, I’m older than she is. By lots. I think she’s the only person in the village who ever stopped to realise it. She won’t try to stop me if it’s something I really want.”
“You’re really serious about this?”
She nodded, “yes. Very much so.”
When Aubree arrived it was obvious she and Bernard were old friends… perhaps more than friends, Ala wondered? Why hadn’t she noticed anything when Bernard was a boy? The two of them immediately launched into chatting about events and people, things that had happened thirty or forty years ago. Ala was a little disconcerted to notice that her memory of that time was a lot clearer than theirs. She could easily help them when their memories failed. It made things awkward again though, making it clear just how old she was again. She decided it might be better not to interject any more and focused on the stew even though it was doing just fine without her help.
People regularly seemed to forget how old she actually was, even Aubree. It seemed that it was easiest for people to act as if she was just what she looked like, a child in her teens. That usually worked right up until she felt comfortable and accidentally reminded them that she was different. She had decided long ago that she should avoid emphasising her age, but it was hard, especially if she was feeling comfortable around people. Once again, she decided it was better to keep her mouth shut.
Bernard spoke a little about his career with the Duke’s Regiment, but he didn’t go into much detail. He mentioned a few experiences during his training and said he’d been on campaign many times, but he didn’t elaborate on any particular thing that had happened while he was at war. It was clear he had seen a lot of action while serving under the Duke’s banner though. The rank he had attained was the most senior rank that someone with such common heritage could expect to achieve. Being assigned as Captain of a Militia in a border region like the Westmarch said a great deal about the trust the Duke placed in the man. Being a Captain of anything would normally be well beyond the possibilities of someone of Bernard’s simple heritage.
Ala served them each a bowl of stew with a chunk of bread. It was a treat for her and Aubree, they could only rarely afford more meat than needed for a broth. What she brought in by hunting they often traded away since they could get so much more for a fresh rabbit than if they ate it themselves. Bernard liked mutton, and he’d wanted her to put generous amounts of it into the stew.
“You make a fine stew, Ala. I think I may be getting a bargain,” Bernard said.
Aubree looked at Ala with a frown, homing in instantly.
“What bargain?”
Ala hoped that Bernard wouldn’t mention the sword fighting lessons… not straight away anyway.
“Oh, I’ve asked if Ala will help with some housekeeping… don’t worry, I’ll compensate her fairly.”
That seemed to satisfy Aubree, who changed the subject.
“Ala is a very good cook, best in the village, I’d bet. She’s had a lot of time to learn, I suppose. Actually there aren’t many things you can learn in Thetwick that she isn’t very good at. Weaving, knitting, spinning, embroidery, fishing, horses… especially horses and many, many other things besides. She knows her herbs too and can read and write very well.” Aubree said, clearly proud. “She even knows sums. She’s put all those extra years to good use, I’d say.”
Bernard looked impressed, “that she has.”
Ala had never realised Aubree had noticed and beamed.
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