Dawn’s Early Knight

by Jeff Cates

King Drog the Destroyer was cursed by a gypsy chambermaid when she learned he’d taken the youngest flower of her womb. Clutching the amulet of a two-headed snake around her neck, she shrieked, “Never again will you possess two, for the shades of darkness will steal one from you!”

At that very instant the shrill cry of his Queen echoed through the dim castle halls as she tumbled down the stairs of the north tower. The Adulterer knew she was dead before her attendants arrived. The immature fruit of his loins died with her that day.

“Gypsy witch! Spawn of the damned!” he screamed, drawing his sword. Blood-washed steel flashed in an eyeblink, and the second cry was cut short.

The ghastly events that followed lived only in the nightmares of the few gypsies that survived that evening’s bloody onslaught. Their wagons outside the city walls were burned. The very young and the very old had no chance. Only the fleet of foot escaped into the black forest. Even the oxen were gut shot and left to die where they’d been tethered. By morning all that remained of the caravan were piles of smoldering ashes and the rigid bodies of the dead.

Ola left the castle on a borrowed war horse from the King’s stable that night; fair payment for the prize the Destroyer had taken from her. Her heart burned when she saw the flames, licking toward the corroded silver coin in the indigo sky. There was little she could do but turn and ride in the opposite direction.

The young woman couldn’t keep down the wild crab apples she’d managed to gather for breakfast the next morning. The herbal tea she made offered little relief. Time passed quickly in the black forest, and Ola’s worst fears were confirmed when the harvest moon faced her accusingly.

Those were the worst of times for Ola; she lived like a wild beast in the woods, scavenging for what little food she could pluck or steal. Dawn came early for Ola. She was her first and her last. Politra the poacher heard the sounds of an infant crying in the darkest shadows of the black forest. It spoiled his shot at a plump partridge. He found Dawn in her mother’s arms. Written in Ola’s blood on the side of a white birch were the words, “Dawn, Daughter of the Destroyer.”

Politra carried the infant and her mother’s body home on the back of the war horse that stood by her side. He buried Ola behind his ramshackle cottage, and fed Dawn goat’s milk for the next year.

Even though most city dwellers would have consider Politra to be an outlaw, he was basically a good man. He’d once been an archer for an honest and powerful king. His arm was steady and his aim was true. He’d instructed the king’s young son in the ways of war, and the young prince returned the favor by teaching Politra how to read and write. Now he had trouble remembering the ruler’s name or the name of his kingdom before it was swallowed up by the Destroyer and his mercenary horde of black knights. They had descended upon this land like a plague, leaving burnt stubble where ripe fields of grain had once flourished and smoldering rubble along roads the had been filled with happy children at play.

It was shortly before Dawn’s first birthday that Politra learned something of her past. Being a light sleeper had saved his life on more than one occasion, and this night his ears told him there was a prowler outside. He stored dried meat in a shed out back, and the low creaking of a wooden door told him someone was inside.

He pulled out the dagger he always kept under his partridge feather pillow and and melded with the shadows as he silently crawled out the open window. A quarter moon’s worth of light was enough to guide his way. He crept up to the drying shed and waited behind the open door. He could hear the sounds of one person breathing heavily, struggling with a haunch of venison. He knew it wasn’t one of Drog’s mercenaries; they never traveled alone. If they had come, they would have burned his cottage and the two humans inside it before they helped themselves to his larder.

He decided at that moment he wouldn’t kill the thief if he didn’t have to, “After all, a man needs to eat,” he thought to himself as he listened to the shuffling movement of leather clad feet inside. The dark forest had become a home for many other refugees of war besides Politra.

When the thief staggered through the doorway, Politra pushed the point of his dagger against his ribs and warned, “Don’t move.”

The dark figure twisted away, dropping his load. Politra cursed as the leg of venison crashed heavily on to his foot. He raced after the fleeting shadow, favoring his right leg, and finally caught up a hundred paces away. He tackled the would be thief, and they thrashed through the bushes, rolling back and forth until a well placed blow knocked the wind out of the elusive stranger.

Politra climbed on top of his captive, pinning his arms to the ground with his knees. He ran his hands under the loose fitting clothing, first finding a dagger in the waistband before he continued under the tunic. His hands came to rest on a pair of breasts, small, but definitely not what he’d expected to find. If he’d been prepared, he might not have wanted to stop there, but the surprise ended his search.

The winded woman struggled when she felt his touch, but he was too strong for her. She stopped when she realized her effort was to no avail.

“If you’ve got any more weapons, you best tell me now, or by the moon and the stars, I’ll strip you naked.”

“There’s a gouge in my boot.”

“Which one?”

“The right.”

Politra pressed his hand against the soft leather. He could feel the metal next to the woman’s ankle. “Is that all?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

“You’d better not be lying to me!”

“I’m a thief, not a murderer! That’s all I’ve got!”

“Alright, I’m going to let you up now, but you’re coming with me. Don’t try to run away again.” Politra twisted her arm behind her back to add extra emphasis to his statement.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll decide when I get a look at you by the light of my fire.”

“I’m really quite ugly. You really wouldn’t want to see me. My face is horribly disfigured by a pox. It would turn the stomach of the strongest man.”

“I’ve got a strong stomach,” he answered as he pulled, half dragging her toward his hut.

“Wait, how about if you just break my arm and let me go. I’ll never come around here again,” her tone sounded more desperate as they approached Politra’s home.

“And how will I know if you come around again in the daylight if I don’t get a good look at you.”

“Please… Let me go!”

“You should have thought about that before you tried to steal my meat, woman. Now, in you go. And keep your voice down, I don’t want you waking up the baby.”

“You have a wife?”

“No. Now hold your tongue if you value it.”

Politra steered the young thief toward his hearth. She tried to turn her head away, but his strong archer fingers forced her to face it. She had black, flashing eyes and hair to match. The embers cast a red glow across her skin, giving her a savage, hot-blooded look. She was pretty enough to be a mistress to the Destroyer himself.

A laugh rumbled out of Politra’s throat.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re the most beautiful liar and a thief I’ve ever seen.”

“Okay, you’ve seen me. Now, can I go?”

“Sit… You heard me! Sit!”

“Okay, okay. What are you going to do to me?”

Politra didn’t understand the fear in her voice until he noticed the dagger in his hand that was still pointed in her direction. He slipped it into his waistband, and his captive seemed to relax just a bit.

“How long has it been since your last meal?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Do you want something to eat?”

The woman was proud, but hunger overcame her pride. “Yes,” she answered.

“There’s some homemade bread in that pot behind you and some dried venison right beside it. Help yourself.”

The woman tore at the food savagely, taking bites too big to fit entirely into her mouth. Politra wondered if he was watching a wolf trapped in the body of a woman as she fed. For one so slender, she had a surprisingly large appetite, like two large, hungry men.

When she finally began to chew more slowly, Politra asked, “What’s your name?”

“Letra,” she mouthed around a sizable chunk of bread.

“My name is Politra.” He extended a hand in her direction, and she grasped it tentatively. Both felt the callouses the other bore.

“I think our ancestors might have known each other, don’t you think?”

“Anything’s possible,” Letra answered evasively.

Politra stared at Letra’s face for a long time before he spoke. “I think I am right. Your face tells me what your tongue will not.”

He looked deeply into her eyes. “Is there anything that you do especially well?”

Letra stopped chewing. “What do you mean?” Her voice had regained its edge of tenseness.

“There’s still the matter of what I’m going to do with you. There must be something that you can do besides lie and steal.”

She crossed her arms and legs in front of her. “If you’re going to hurt me, be done with it. But don’t expect any special favors from me. Even a liar and a thief has some limits.”

Politra let loose a great laugh from deep in his belly. “Ho, woman, what kind of a man do you take me for? I’d be a liar too if I said I didn’t notice there’s a beautiful young woman underneath all that dirt. But I will not force myself upon you. If I wanted to have my way with you, you would not be in this position by my hearth right now.”

Letra let out a great sigh. “I was worried. I misread the look in your eyes.”

She looked into Politra’s dark eyes. “What do you want me to do for you?”

“I need someone to watch the baby while I hunt, and maybe help with some of the work around here. She wants to come with me now that she’s starting to walk, and that’s just not possible.”

“Where’s her mother?”

“Dead.”

“Let’s have a look at her.”

“Alright, but keep your voice down.”

Politra lit a single candle he kept on the hearth with a stick from the fire and carried it to the small, hand hewn box in the corner of the room.

Letra looked at the sleeping child’s face and then at Politra’s. “You’re not her father.”

“What makes you think that?”

“My blood gives me some talent in the arts, and I know she’s no kin of yours.”

“I’ve been the only father she’s had since the time she was born!”

Letra was very quiet, staring at Politra intensely. She almost seemed to be trying to read him like a book.

Politra whispered, “My blood might not be as pure as yours, but I have some talents as well. I’ll save you the displeasure of asking. I had nothing to do with her mother’s death. I found Dawn in the forest. Her mother bled to death shortly after delivering her. I’ve raised her ever since.”

At that moment Dawn opened her eyes and smiled up at Letra. She picked the baby up in her arms, and she seemed perfectly content to be held. “This is a beautiful gypsy child; I can tell by her hair and her pleasant smile.”

As Letra rocked the baby from side to side, she asked, “Do you know her mother’s name?”

“I didn’t get a chance to ask her.”

“How did she come by the name Dawn?”

“Her mother wrote it on the side of a tree.”

“Could it be? By the moon and the stars! She looks like her.”

“Was her mother fair?”

“Very.”

“It had to be Ola. She was the only woman of childbearing age that knew how to read the signs of men!”

She looked down at Dawn, who was pressing her cheek against her shoulder. “How old is she?”

“Almost a year.”

“Let me think… Harvest will be here soon enough. Drog killed most of our clan during harvest seven seasons ago.”

“Ola had no mate. I know she’d never offered herself to any male. Oh, she attracted attention wherever we traveled, but she valued her prize more than any man. Someone must have forced himself upon her, someone in the castle.”

“She was my cousin. Grandmother had warned her family and some of the other women not to go to Drog’s castle, but the Destroyer had pillaged all the farms within the realm of his black knights and many of those that bordered it. The grain that he had seized was stored behind those castle walls. Winter was approaching, and we knew we wouldn’t see spring without help. We needed food, and a few of our gypsy women thought they could get some by performing menial tasks at the castle. I’d feared they were all dead when our people never returned from Drog’s castle. The evening they disappeared, his black knights attacked us in our sleep. I don’t know how I managed to get away, but I did. I often wonder if any others did. I hope so.”

“So, will you stay?”

She laid the sleeping baby back into her box bed.

“Where would I sleep? I’ll share your food but not your bed.”

“I killed a bear once. Its skin is over there next to Dawn’s bed. Would it trouble you to sleep on that?”

“It’s been over a year since I’ve slept on anything so soft. Will you give me the night to decide?”

“Sleep well then, but I expect an answer in the morning.”

“We’ll see if we can use a confiscated vehicle,” she said. “Talk to Johnson and see what he can dig up for you tomorrow.”

As we were heading out, there was a loud bang, and the howling coming from the jail cell ended abruptly.

One of the tourists was trying to attract our attention. Malcolm bowed, and we all kept walking.