King Ethelred IV Part 5

When at last only the King’s carriage was left to join the procession, Albert was having a lunch of bread, cheese and watered wine—which were the remains of his lord’s lunch—he watched with considerable consternation as the King’s carriage drew up behind his own, and the King disembarked. There was no possible way that his lord ought to be in front of the King. On most journeys, sucking the King’s dust and breathing the heady fumes of the King’s horses’ manure would have been too great an honour. This was not going to go well.

“Good Sir.” King Ethelred said in a voice filled with anger. Albert jumped to attention, eager to avoid displeasing the King anymore than he already had. “I see from the heraldry upon your carriage that you are in the employ of Lord Merovine. I remain impressed that he can afford so talented a manservant as yourself and this resplendent carriage, while gambling and carousing his fortune away.”

“A fact that baffles me as well, your highness,” Albert bowed deeply.

“Indeed. Are you aware that your dissolute lord’s carriage is in the wrong location, and should be the last before the supply train?”

“I had thought so as well; however, the Chancellor insisted.”

Ethelred’s face turned a bright shade of red. “Do you believe in an afterlife, Albert?” He screamed, “if you are among those who do, you may wish to reconsider your position, because you clearly feel that your mistakes in life shall be of no consequence!”

“My King, I assure you that I was but following instructions. I shall move my carriage to the side and rejoin at the appropriate position.”

“Excellent. Do reconsider your foolish ideology that excuses proper behaviour. I cannot abide the uneducated philosophies of the underclass. Now, be gone.”

A Ship Cursed Part 5

‘My name is Pierre,’ he said with the slur of a man who’d been down on his luck and at the bottom of bottles for weeks. He was in his mid-twenties, but it was difficult to tell—the stubble, and dark bags under his eyes, and the skin of a seaman made him look old. This man had aged fast in the last few months, faster than a eggs left in the sun.

‘I have a… story, but you’ll not hear it.’ He struggled with the words, and his breath reeking of stale red wine, his teeth dark with it. Slowly, he grinned. His grin was that of one troubled by his past deeds and conflicts.

‘Good,’ I said, ‘I’d really rather not hear a frog speak.’ I motioned to the barkeep for another beer.

He mumbled something, then, ‘I am not a grenouille; because, if I was, I would not have stayed on that maudite ship for four months of hell. I would have swum home, jusqu’à la France.’

I leaned forward, so as to hear him speak. My French is very limited, but I have learned to understand a bit, if I catch it right. I took a long pull on my beer before I said, ‘go on,’ trying to sound encouraging.

‘There was no wind: it stopped, for a whole four months,’

‘Four months?’ I could hardly believe it, it took a conscious effort to stop gawking, ‘but how did you survive?’

‘Non, I will not tell you,’ he said. His hands ran over the rough grain of the bar, until they found his bottle. It was half empty as it went to his lips. When he put it down, there was none left.

Alice's Part 5

The alarm screeched in his ear. Two hours. Ray turned the alarm off, leaned over and picked up the phone. He dialled the help line.

‘Hello?’ a young woman answered. ‘G.I. Help Line.’

‘Say I go AWOL?’ he said. ‘What are my options?’

A big yawn. ‘Well, you can go home to your family, change cities, or there’s Canada.’

‘Canada?’ Ray had only heard that the winters were even colder there than those at home. He had heard people skied to work, and lived in igloos. He kind of wondered about the igloos, though. Canada wasn’t that far north.

‘Yeah. There isn’t any guarantee that you can stay, though. And you can never come back.’

‘I’d never be able to come back?’

‘Well, you could, but you’d get some time in prison, and will have difficulty finding work with your dishonourable discharge.’

‘Hmmm. Ok.’ Canada felt like a long ways off. It wasn’t going to open its arms, and he would never be able to see his mother and father again. ‘I’ll think about it. Is there any support up there?’

‘Yeah. Got a pen?’ she asked. ‘Good.’ She gave him the number, and told him to ask for Michelle, who would guide him through the process if he decided to go.

‘Thanks,’ Ray said. ‘Goodbye.’

‘Good luck.’

Ray checked the clock. He had an hour and forty minutes before he would be missing, and he still didn’t know where he was going. He got up, showered and packed a small bag of things he would need. Once he had dressed, he walked out the door.

As he walked down the street, he knew it would be the last time. He stopped by the diner, and ordered a muffin and coffee. ‘Alice, can you put honey in that coffee?’

‘Sure’

Ray tried to pay, but Alice would have nothing to do with it. He went to sit down in a booth. He looked at his hands--the scars he remembered getting, and the few he couldn’t. He ran them through his hair.

Alice brought his coffee out to him. ‘How are you, Ray?’

‘I’m … doing better,’ he answered, cradling his mug of coffee in his hands.

‘Don’t you ship out this morning?’

‘Yes,’ Ray said. He paused. ‘No, I think I’m going …I am going to go to Canada.’ His voice cracked, and he coughed to cover it up.

Alice smiled. ‘You know what, Ray? I think it takes a lot of guts to do what you’re doing.’ She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I’m proud of you.” He watched her walk back to the counter, then finished his coffee.

He waved goodbye to Alice, walked out the door, and down the road. He heard a car in the distance behind him, and put out his thumb.