Forest

When Steven woke in the morning, he was cold like he could not remember being in all the time he had traveled with Selah. He rolled over, but she was not next to him. Rubbing sleep from his eyes he sat up and looked around. A few steps away, a soldier stood as if on guard, gazing out toward the south.

Ah yes, Steven thought. The sergeant. Then Steven took in the rest of the campsite. The fire still smoldered and his pack lay at his head. But there was no sign of Selah. Or the donkey. Or the wagon. He rubbed his eyes and looked around again scrambling out of his bedroll. He rushed to the sergeant.

“Where is Selah?” he demanded of the soldier.

“Who is Selah?” responded the soldier.

“Selah is my… The lady who was with me when you found us yesterday. And the donkey and cart!” Steven blurted.

“I don’t know about no lady, sir,” said the sergeant calmly. “There is no lady here, nor donkey and cart.”

“I can see she is not here,” said Steven, “but where is she?”

“Now how would I be supposed to know that?” asked the sergeant. “If there is no lady here, why would I know where the lady is? You are not making sense, sir, if I may be so plain.”

“Now see here,” Steven blustered. “Yesterday you arrived with two other soldiers and found Madame Selah Welinska, Xandros the donkey, my cart, and me. You sent the other two back to court to tell the King I’d been found and we spent the day hunting and preparing supplies for the journey through the King’s forest. We ate dinner and Selah danced and you fell asleep. Now where is Madame Welinska?”

“Well, now, that is just as I remember things,” said the sergeant. “But I’m not committing to having seen a lady. No, I can’t say that I did.”

Steven was dumbfounded. The soldier was aggravating. What did he mean by not committing to having seen a lady? Steven had slept in her arms until… He wasn’t quite sure exactly when, but he had fallen asleep in her arms. And he had been traveling with the blasted little donkey and cart for seven years. He began to look on the ground for tracks indicating which way they had gone.

He found none.

As far as Steven could tell by the ground, there had been no one camped in this hollow but him and the soldier. There were no donkey tracks or other signs. There were no wagon ruts. There was nothing that would indicate anything other than what the sergeant had said.

Steven sat in the middle of the road and ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. He scuffed his feet into the dirt of the road looking for a sign of bricks, but even that evaded his investigation. Steven was heartbroken and confused. It was not possible that he had been here alone. What had transpired over the past seven years?

“Now, begging your pardon, sir,” interrupted the sergeant, “if you wouldn’t mind getting your pack together, we could get under way. Our journey lies that way,” he said pointing into the forest.

“Yes, certainly,” Steven said quietly. He silently got up and put his pack together. There were plenty of strips of roast venison to pack in his bag, but certainly not a whole deer-worth. He supposed it was just as well that Selah had taken the rest of the meat, because without the wagon he would surely have no means to transport it. He still could not understand how he could have slept through Selah rising, harnessing the donkey, and pulling the wagon with its tinkling bells away from the camp.

At last he shouldered his pack, picked up his walking stick and looked sadly around the last campsite he shared with his beloved.

“Are you absolutely sure you didn’t wake up when the lady left?” he asked the sergeant.

“Now a soldier is always alert to what is going on, son,” said the sergeant. “I ain’t saying I slept the whole night long, but I ain’t saying I saw no lady get up and spirit away a donkey and wagon in the middle of the night, neither.”

“Spirit away? You mean she just vanished?” Steven asked incredulously.

“I didn’t say I saw that,” said the sergeant. “You can’t convict me for something I didn’t confess to. Now if we could get moving?”

“Lead on,” Steven said.

He followed the soldier into the forest.

They had not gone far into the forest when Steven began to feel the need to talk. He had begun counting steps the moment they left the campsite—something he had not done in seven years. But now it seemed that if he kept track of the footsteps he would know how far and in what direction he needed to go to get back to his beloved Madame Selah Welinska. The footsteps seemed hollow, however, and he was sure he could entice the sergeant to tell him more.

“Sergeant,” said Steven finally, “I don’t know your name. I am Steven George the Storyteller. What are you called?”

“I’m called sergeant by those who know what’s good for them,” he answered.

“But surely you have a name, don’t you?” Steven probed.

“I ain’t saying I don’t have a name,” the sergeant answered. “You asked what I’m called. I’m called Sergeant.”

“All right, Sergeant,” Steven continued. “What is your name?”

The sergeant mumbled something in return and Steven asked him to repeat it.

“Busker,” the sergeant said more loudly. “I’m Sergeant Busker, if you must know. Now can we pick up the pace a bit here?”

“Well, Busker,” said Steven, “shall we tell each other stories to make the journey go faster?”

“Sergeant,” answered Busker. “No one calls me Busker. And if you would like to make the journey go faster, we could pick up the pace a bit. This scarcely qualifies as a march.”

“I didn’t know we were marching,” Steven said.

“Soldiers march,” Busker answered.

“I’m not a soldier,” Steven said. “I walk. So far we have come seven thousand two hundred fifty-five steps this morning.”

“I march,” Busker answered. “We have barely ‘walked’ a league.”

It had been many years since Steven had picked up the pace, as Busker wanted. He had never hurried anywhere since meeting Madame Welinska seven years ago. But he remembered the one hundred five step-per-minute pace that had always been his norm on the road and determined to regain it for the sake of having civil conversation with Busker.

Busker was pleased when Steven set out a longer stride, but Steven had difficulty maintaining a consistent pace. It had once been so simple, he thought. How I have changed.

“Why don’t you Once Upon a Time me,” Steven asked presently.

“I beg your pardon?” Busker shot at him.

“Tell me a story,” Steven clarified. “Then I shall tell you a story. It will be a pleasant way to pass the time and we shall both be a story richer by the end of the day.”

“Soldiers don’t tell stories,” Busker retorted. “Soldiers say only what they see with their own two eyes. Soldiers must always be depended on to report accurately to their superior officers.”

“Well, let’s start there then,” Steven said happily. “What did you see with your own two eyes when you woke up in the middle of the night just before the lady and the donkey vanished.”

“I ain’t saying I saw no lady in the middle of the night,” said Busker. “I ain’t saying I saw no great winged dragon launch into the sky with a baby dragon at its side and a wagon in its claws. That would be a silly thing to say I saw. No one would ever believe it.”

“You saw a what?” Steven gasped.

“I didn’t say I saw anything,” Busker said firmly and set his jaw as he lengthened his stride. Steven found himself running to catch up, walking and falling behind, and running again as the soldier seemed to maintain a smooth even stride. The soldier finally pulled a small tambour from his pack and began tapping out the pace for their march. Steven found it much easier to settle into the pace with the steady beat.

“Is this how a soldier marches?” Steven asked after his breathing had caught up with the new pace.

“Aye, it is,” said Busker. “I use this to help new recruits learn how to set an even pace.”

“Tell me more about being a soldier,” Steven begged after they had traveled two more leagues, as Busker called them. The path which had once been a road continued to narrow and they now “marched” in single file.

“What do you want to know?” asked Busker.

“I know nothing about the life of a soldier,” said Steven. “We have passed soldiers at different times, but never talked to them. I once served a company of knights. Is being a soldier like being a knight?”

“No!” answered Busker emphatically. “Being a soldier is more like being a knight’s horse, except you aren’t cared for so well.”

“Oh,” Steven said as he thought about how the company of knights had cared for their horses. “Tell me more about being a soldier.”

“You want to know about being a soldier?” Busker asked.

“Yes,” said Steven, “tell me about being a soldier.”

“Duck,” Busker said matter-of-factly.

“Wha…?” Steven began as the branch Busker had pushed out of the way snapped back and struck Steven full in the face, knocking him to the ground.

“That’s one,” Busker said, offering Steven a hand to get up to his feet. “A soldier obeys orders instantly. This time it was just a branch in your face. Next time it could be your life on the line.”

Steven climbed to his feet rubbing his face and mouth where the branch had struck.

“Now, step lively, recruit,” barked Busker as he began a rapid tattoo on the tambour. Steven found it much easier to keep the pace now as he was alert to any sign that Busker would snap another branch into his face. The forest got denser and the path got narrower.

“Is the path like this all the way through the forest?” Steven asked. He was already regretting having ever argued with Selah about what direction they should go. The donkey and cart could never have made it through this dense undergrowth. Baby dragon? he thought fleetingly. Where had the road gone?

“We’re taking a shortcut,” said Busker. “We left the main road two leagues ago. This path is a little more rugged, but we’ll get to the castle a full day earlier if we keep up this pace.”

Steven was listening to Busker, but even more to the forest sounds around him. In all his travels since he crossed the great river near his village, he had never left the road. It seemed to go everywhere he and Selah wanted to go. This was more rugged than even the game trails near the home he had left so long ago.

The sounds were different here. Busker had left off tapping the tambour as the forest became denser. Now Steven was aware of his own heavy breathing and more than once thought he heard breathing behind him. He kept as close as he could to Busker and thought the soldier had also become increasingly alert.

“Double time,” Busker said suddenly, and broke into a trot. Steven did not hesitate to keep pace as the forest seemed to become more and more threatening. The sun had been blocked completely by the foliage and Steven was certain he heard branches snapping behind and beside him.

Something was on their trail and Steven wanted nothing more than to string his bow and nock an arrow. Sweat trickled down his forehead and into his eyes as he stumbled suddenly into a small clearing at the edge of a cliff. Without hesitating, Busker went over the edge commanding “Jump!”

Steven hesitated. Was he mad? He turned to look behind him and was faced with the biggest bear he had ever imagined. So startled was Steven that he stepped backward and over the edge of the cliff.

Time stopped as Steven saw the bear charge toward him, only to slide to a halt at the edge of the cliff, watching his dinner fall into the void. It seemed forever as Steven held the eyes of the bear as they receded into the distance. Then his fall was arrested by tree limbs, giving way to dense brush that cushioned his impact with the ground that he never quite touched before stopping.

“Hoo-woo!” shouted Busker jumping on the springy undergrowth. He offered Steven a hand and pulled him to his feet as they stepped off the cushion at the foot of the cliff and onto a path again.

“We jumped off a cliff!” Steven shouted in disbelief.

“Always trust your officer, recruit,” said Busker. “He’ll never lead you astray.”

“You knew we’d bounce?” Steven asked.

“It’s not like I’ve never done this before,” Busker said, “but I’m not saying I have, either. We usually take the path down the cliff over there,” he said pointing. “Speaking of which, we should get a good distance between us and this cliff just in case that old bear decides we’re worth coming down the path for. If we’d tried to come down that way, one or both of us would have been dinner.”
Steven was shaking as they set off down the path again. The going became easier on this side of the cliff and by late in the afternoon they reached a river.

“We’ll camp here,” said Busker. We’ve come nearly half way to the castle now and the way will be easier after we cross the river.”

“Wouldn’t it be safer to cross the river now?” asked Steven. “We could be on the other side of where the bear is.”

“Oh the bear is long behind us now,” Busker laughed. “Besides, a little thing like a river would be no barrier to it. Bears can swim. We’ll have to be careful to pick our way across on the rocks and I’d rather do that in the light of the morning with a full belly and a night’s rest.”

They built a fire and enjoyed the venison they had packed. Steven was exhausted from the forced march of the day and could not remember the last time when he had covered thirty-two thousand seven hundred forty steps in a day. He surprised himself with that. Even running from the bear and jumping—or falling—off the cliff had not interrupted his count. He still knew where to go to get back to Selah.

He slept fitfully through the night, thinking at every moment that he heard the bear coming through the woods. But nothing appeared near the fire. In the morning they continued their journey and at long last Steven saw the largest city that he had seen since leaving Byzantium years ago. It was an uncomfortable feeling, for Steven’s adventures in the city had been disastrous, leaving him without his knife, sword, horse, bow, and coins. There was little to be done, however and he resolutely entered the castle of the King.

Previous Chapter: The Inevitable Change
Next Chapter: King