Bladeshire 4

By David C. Daoust

The village around Bladeshire Abbey was a small one. At its center was the Village Green, a common area the families shared. The Green, along with the Parish Church were places the villagers would congregate. Each had their own wattle and daub cottage, where their entire family would eat and sleep. As serfs they were granted two strips of land to farm; one strip’s produce was kept for the families themselves, the second went directly to the Abbey. Any profit they made from their strip, would go to feed them– and pay taxes of course. Very rarely was there a profit to turn. This was similar to all the villages of the barony, though most others, instead, fed a knightly manor; set up to feed one of the Baron’s noble knights.

The surrounding farmlands were made up of three great fields that rotated crops. The southern field currently sat fallow; livestock were kept in such a field to help replenish the land. To the northwest the barony also provided a common area for them to graze from. The thick forest that crowded around said farmlands was known as the Darwood.

Khadory let the slop bucket drop down out of the upper opening of the abbey’s barn. Its contents splooshed up in an arch but otherwise landed straight up. The copper-haired boy needed to lower himself to ground level. Crouching under the rail, he skipped the ladder, just let himself hang from one arm for a second before dropping to the soft earth below.

The overworked boy snatched up the bucket of questionable contents as he marched it some distance away. Already tired from his morning work, his arms ached as he hurled the waste into the bushes.

The children of Bladeshire were kept busy. Not as busy as the adults, but the young ones were expected to do their share. Such children had morning chores, afternoon chores, and evening chores. The faster they got them done, the sooner they could do what they wanted in the time between. Usually, Khadory would have his work done before all others, be off galivanting, doing as he wished. Yet not this day. Not this day, at all.

Khadory was the eldest of two orphans living off the good Abbey’s graces. For whatever reason, the younger, Braidon, had slacked off the day before. Guess who got to make up for his day off?

The elder orphan mulled over the situation, supposed it was good that at least Braidon had finished some of his morning chores the day before. Yet, it was starting to look like Braidon had not bothered with his afternoon chores at all. This made Khadory nervous– and not just that he might find the evening chores completely untouched.

Ultimately, he was covering for Braidon. The longer into the morning that Braidon did not appear, the more worried Khadory became.

Loud barking interrupted his worries. He found Abe charging through the fields, chasing another dog. He did not put much thought into it. Dogs were a common sight, especially the oversized mastiffs. Such animals were used to protect the livestock, chase off unwanted visitors to the fields, even literally fight boars when they got too close.

Just another dog charging by. Normally he might note that Chantilles was usually within ten feet of this particular canine; he must have had enough to worry about in that moment.

The stone walls of Bladeshire Abbey dominated the landscape. It was a great extravagance for a noble to support such an Abbey. Considered a prestige, as great as any title. The monks within lived a life of solitude, sacrifice, and prayer.

Khadory was brought to the Abbey by an extern priest while he was still an infant. The pair lived among the monks of the abbey ever since. Raised with the order, Khadory did not consider the priest his father, nor any of them really. It was all work and prayer at the abbey, a very solemn life.

It was not until Khadory was a bit older that Braidon arrived. A feral kid, rescued from the wilds– only four or five years of age at the time. Khadory did not know the full story, at about eight years old, he was too young to be consulted. When Braidon first arrived, the boy was wild and full of energy. In fact, he growled at any that got too close… and flat out attacked more than one individual. The monks did not think they would ever get him to act like a normal human. This stood out to Khadory’s young mind, the suggestion made him wonder about normalcy, and what constituted it. It was not until a very young Chantilles ran off crying that the boy seemed to reassess his behavior. This was all six or seven years ago– the currently fifteen-year-old Khadory did not think the twelve-year-old Braedon even remembered those days.

It was with these thoughts of days past, that Khadory noted the young girl, Chantilles, in the distance. It finally dawned on him that her hound and protector, Abe, was not with her. In fact, he was pretty sure the old dog was humping a bitch behind the barn; he had no interest in finding out for sure.

The problem– the girl was alone, and headed into the Darwood.  There were far greater threats in the Darwood than boar. Looked like more strange behavior was going to eat into his day. Strange behavior indeed. He realized if he stopped into the abbey to say where he was going, or even report the girl, he would lose sight of her…

Khadory slipped down the hill, cut through the fields —all in the hopes of catching up to the girl before something vile befell her!