Satin's Tale: Dealings Done

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Finding Footing

 

A hand shook the boy awake early the next morning, just as the sky was beginning to lighten.  He shivered, hunching up more, and tried to protest, but the hand turned him over more firmly, then slapped him softly on the cheek.

“None of that boy, I’m doing you a favour.  On your feet now, when I wake you, or else expect someone else’s boot in a few minutes.”  The voice was female, if rough, and he sat up, scrubbing at his eyes.  He spared a glance for the burned out fire, no longer providing any warmth, before looking at the woman.

Her hair was sandy blonde, cut roughly short, and her face was scarred in several places.  Another thicker scar encircled her neck, old and faded, but obvious enough to draw his eyes.  Her outfit was rough-stitched fabrics, thick and patched in several places.  The boy tried to stand, stiff and cold from the night and all too aware of the gathering dew in his clothes.  His eyes were still sore from crying in the night, and the obliviousness of sleep didn’t last long.  He blinked back fresh tears, trying to hide them.

“’m hungry.”  The woman smirked.

“Like that’s my problem. Ah, close your mouth and listen good, ‘cause I’ll only tell you once kid.  Word of advice that old Marley ain’t going to bother to give you.  Don’t get in the way.  No-one here cares for you or about you, and like as not none of us ever will.  Goes both way though.  Don’t get in the way, and no-one will notice you.  How you survive is up to you, but for now, you ain’t worth bothering about.  Stay that way, got it?”  She didn’t wait for an answer, but stood and left him where he was, staring reproachfully at her back.

The rest of the camp was also moving, or beginning to.  The boy could see adults moving about, looking busy already, often as not eating something with one hand while they worked.  There were no other youths though, that much was clear.  None of the raiders in the camp were any less than proper adults, as far as he could see, and the lost, bereft sensation that had been building in him grew stronger.  The camp was packing up, he worked out after a few moments.  People were tending their horses, or loading them up, or else rolling bedrolls and packing equipment.  He caught sight of Marley talking with two others, crouched around a crate that was serving as an impromptu table.  It was covered in several rather curly documents and Marley was gesturing to them as he spoke.  Not knowing what else to do, the boy wandered over to look. 

Marley glanced at him briefly, but continued without pause, while the others didn’t appear to notice him even that much.  They were charts, or maps, though the boy couldn’t make any sense of them.  He tried to listen to their conversation instead, but they spoke quickly and their speech was rougher than his ears were used to.  They seemed to be talking about where the band was heading next, and why, but the boy couldn’t follow any more than that.  He kept quiet and watched them, until, after a few minutes, his cold, damp clothes led to shiver that became a sneeze.  Marley looked at him again, then reached out to shove him away roughly.  The push was enough to overbalance him, and he fell backwards.

“Out of the way kid, go make yourself useful somewhere, we’re busy.”  Marley was already looking at the map again and talking to his colleagues as the boy picked himself up.  His mother normally made him change whenever his clothes got wet like this, which was rare enough, but he didn’t have any other clothes now and hugged himself instead, trying to warm up as he returned to the centre of the camp aimlessly.  His stomach made another demand for food, though he didn’t know what to do about it.  Most of the raiders seemed to have food of some description, or had already eaten, but he couldn’t work out where they had been getting it.  Most of the camp was already packed away and loaded, with only a few bundles still in use, or being moved.  Marley was packing up the maps and securing them in a round, waxed bundle, buckled with a leather strap.

The boy’s eyes caught on one of the other men, standing near the horses.  He was securing his mount’s load with one hand, while the other alternated between lifting a battered mug to his lips, and holding a hunk of hard, flat bread which he pulled small bites from every now and then.  Hunger steeled the boy’s resolve, and he walked over to the horses, watching the man.  No one took any notice of him, and when the raider next raised the mug to his lips, the boy darted forward, grabbing the remaining hunk of bread, then ducking under the horse and dashing away between the others.  He heard the man curse loudly behind him, calling him a little brat, but a glance back showed that he hadn’t bothered to give chase.  The boy’s heart raced, fluttering rapidly between fear and desperate adrenalin. 

He slowed at the other side of the horse picket and bit savagely into his prize, chewing and swallowing quickly.  The bread was tough and bland, but sweetened slightly, and had a thick grainy texture.  He finished it off quickly, just as the band began mounting up and preparing to leave.  It was a moment before the boy realised he was the only one left with his feet still on the ground.  A moment of panic raced through him, unsure what to do.  He heard Marley’s voice over the general sound of people and horses, shouting instructions, and, uncertain what else he could do, raced towards the sound.  When he reached the man’s horse, he grit his teeth, then grabbed for the near stirrup, trying to scramble up, whether the man wanted him there or not.

To his surprise, Marley just laughed, the grabbed him by the back of the shirt again, settling him once again in front.

“That’s the spirit, kid!  Hyaaahh!”  The last was a shout that made the boy’s ears ring, and the horse leapt forward, jostling him roughly.

They rode hard for much of the daylight, with only the occasional break or stop.  The boy’s body ached all over from the rough treatment, but he didn’t try to complain, and scrambled back on every time they started off again.  Even one day in the band had taught him that complaining simply wouldn’t do anything, so he kept silent instead, watched, and listened.

Despite the brutally uncaring manner of everyone around him, they seemed to share good humour and a jovial camaraderie amongst each other, and the boy was left trying to make sense of the contrast, when he wasn’t concentrating on holding on and trying not to get thrown or jostled too much.  The stopped for the last time as evening approached, the men and women of the band each seeming to recognise the last rest, and beginning to tend their horses for the night. 

The boy jumped down after Marley dismounted and stretched out his limbs, moving carefully to work out the limits of his aches.  Everyone around him seemed to be busy with a variety of jobs, but as the light faded, the boy noticed something, and his brow furrowed.  Marley was standing in the centre of the camp, once again talking to other raiders that the boy didn’t recognise yet.  The boy approached, hesitantly, but after a moment drew a breath and squared his shoulders.  He waited until there was a gap in their talking before he spoke.

“Marley,” he tried not to flinch back as all three of the men stopped to look at him, then pressed on.  “No fire?”  Marley just shook his head with a small smile, hard to make out in the fading light.

“Not tonight kid.  We’re less than a day’s riding distance from Edoras at the moment, less than half a night for a fast scout.  We ain’t going to advertise where we are, just in case there’s anyone nearby enough who might care.  What’s it to you?”  There was something in his eyes, something knowing, as he watched the boy with a measuring look.  The boy looked down, then grit his teeth and turned his eyes upward again.

“I’ll freeze.”  The other two looked between Marley and the boy, seemingly curious about the exchange.  Marley nodded his head.

“Aye, I suppose you might, it being winter and all.  Unless you go ahead and do something about it.  No fires though, is that understood?”  He turned back to his companions and resumed their previous conversation without waiting for a response.  Quite obviously dismissed, the boy retreated again, wondering how he could keep warm.  Food was another problem.  He was starving again, having eaten nothing since the morning’s meagre piece of bread.  It seemed as though each member of the band had their own horse, and own supplies for the most part; each person had their own supply of food, own clothes and weapons, own bedroll and their own personal effects.  The felt more aware than ever how lost and alone he was, with no family and nothing to call his own.  His eyes prickled with hot tears and he moved away from everyone, beyond the forming line of horses, until he was apart enough to cry where no one would see.

Night had fallen completely by the time his eyes ran out of tears and he managed to calm himself again.  There was no moon, and the starlight didn’t seem to help.  The boy could barely see a foot of the ground in front of him.  He made his way back into the darkened camp, still unsure what to do.  Though it was dark, voices continued to float back and forth in a friendly, good-humoured banter.  Most of the raiders seemed to be settling down to sleep, and were simply talking as they bunked down.  Each person slept close to their own bundles, but many of the other supplies and things of value they’d brought with them were stored neatly not far from the horse picket.  Maybe he could find something to eat or keep warm with in there.  If anyone saw him they’d probably make a scene though.  There seemed to be some sort of unspoken rule about the stockpile.

“Hey Speedy!  It’s shaping up to be an awfully cold one… you know, I could sure use some company over here tonight, eh?  How about it?”  A male voice from somewhere in the darkness raised itself over the lower murmurs.  For a moment, the boy perked up.  If someone was sharing it might leave a bedroll unoccupied.  A female voice called back with a laugh.

“Aye, I’m sure you could, over there, Felaren, but you’re a big boy, aren’t you, I’m sure you can keep yourself company.”  There was a smattering of laughs.

“You could come on over and I’ll show you just what a big boy I am; I’ll promise to return the favour when you’re begging in a week’s time!”

“Hah!  You and about five other boys here!  Try your luck then and let me sleep would you!”

“Ah, can’t blame a man for trying.”

“We can blame you for anything, Felaren!  You’ll have done it at least once!”  This was a new male voice, followed by another handful of laughs.

“Haven’t we all?  Get your sleep boys; we’ve got a double shifter planned.”  This last voice was Marley’s, quite close by and the boy took a step back unconsciously.  A few moments later it continued, much, much quieter.  “… Although… it’s been a while, Whistler, sweet… you game for some sport?”  Beside him a different female voice responded, almost at a whisper.  It was the same woman who had woken him that morning.

“Nice try boss.  Like you said though, we all need our sleep.  Sleep well.”  The boy heard Marley sigh emphatically, as though he had suffered some terrible wound.  The talk seemed to have come to an end, however, and something close to silence descended over the camp. 

The boy bit his lip.  He hadn’t understood much of what they had actually been saying, but he’d gotten enough to realise that no-one was leaving any bedrolls unused.  His chances of stealing anything to eat now weren’t good.  He’d need to wait until they were all more soundly asleep, but he was more than tired himself already.  He yawned in the darkness, though the action became a shiver that shook through his body.  The cold and the hunger would keep him awake; the temperature was already falling rapidly.

Shivering in the dark, he waited until he was sure he could hear soft snores from most parts of the camp, though the sounds of the others resting made his own head nod, in between yawns.  He wanted to just lie down and rest, but knew that was a bad idea.  Eventually he decided to try his luck, and crept unsteadily to where the other supplies were stockpiled, by the horses.  One of them snorted at his approach, and the boy froze, but no sounds came from the centre of the camp and he crept on.

The stockpile itself was stacked neatly, and had been covered over with a large water-proofed cloth, staked to the ground at each corner.  It was loose enough for him to push his way under it and start exploring as quietly as he could.  He let his eyes drift shut as he searched; the darkness was so complete under the cloth that it made no difference when he opened them.  His hand fell on something soft, smooth, that gave slightly to his touch.  As he clambered over the object, it turned out to be a small pile of cloth bolts, which shifted around his weight.  That would do, surely.  Now, if only he could find something to eat in here as well.  He let his body relax for a moment, amongst the soft bolts of cloth.

“Ah-ha!  Here he is!”  The boy stirred, squinting as sunlight flooded his vision.  There were people standing above him.

“On your feet and out of there, lad; you ain’t pretty enough to be a bolt of satin.”

“I dunno boss, we could try to trade him off with them, you never know.”

“Wouldn’t get much for ‘im if we tried that, would we?”  A hand grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of the pile.  Still blinking, the boy stumbled forward, to find several of the raiders standing about him, grinning and chuckling to themselves.  It was Marley holding his arm, though he let go again once the boy was standing properly.

“Nice to start the morning off with a bit of a laugh for once, eh boys?”  He glanced about at the others, then shook his head, still smirking, and scruffed at the boy’s hair.  “Still, we’ve a long ride ahead, then some heavy night work once we get there.  So let’s get this stuff loaded up and move out.  You too, boy.”  He turned and strode back towards another group of men, leaving the others to begin loading the horses evenly, while the boy backed away, seemingly forgotten.  Nearby, the woman Marley had identified asWhistler was giving her horse a quick brush over, her tack sitting by her feet.  She glanced down at him and shook her head.

“How’d you like that then, huh?  We’re out here roughing it, and the little one gets to sleep on satin.  Doing well for yourself then, eh?”  After a moment, her mirth faded.  “Only, you’re not, are you?  Haven’t eaten anything in over a day, and at your age, I’ll bet your weak with hunger by now.”  The boy didn’t answer, but his stomach made a particularly loud protest, and the woman looked away, her face serious.  After a moment she sighed.

“Ah, boss’d call me weak for it, and say I’m not doin’ you and favours, but then again, he’s the one for talk of things that ain’t your fault, all the time, there really isn’t much you could’ve done anyhow.  Listen good.”  She glanced about then spoke faster, her tone quiet and low. 

“You make yourself useful around here, and I mean you help out and fast, and I’ll see if I can’t get you something to hold you over until tomorrow.  There’s a raid going down tonight, last hit before trade-up.  Boss’ll probably try to leave you behind for it; no place for a babe, even if he treats you all grown-up when it comes to responsibility, and having to take care of yourself.  Makes no sense, but he’s a good man, really.  Listen though.  You make sure you come along with us.  It’ll be rough, and dangerous, and you’ll be terrified, I wager, but you come, and while it’s all going down, or once it has, you make sure you get yourself some decent food to keep to yourself, find yourself a pack of some sort and fill it with stuff that’ll keep, you hear me?  If you can get yourself a bedroll or something for sleeping as well, try to.  We’ve all got our own stuff, but we were mostly all full grown when we signed on, as it were, so it was easier.  Now go, help the boys get sorted, any way you can.”  She turned back to her work as though he was no longer there, bending to hoist the saddle over her horse’s back.  The boy hesitated, but only for a moment.  The prospect of food was too much to pass up.

 

He found Marley again, and when the man didn’t look at him right away, he called out.  The leader’s eyes focused on him.

“What is it kid, we’re busy.”  The boy grit his teeth, forming words that he found distasteful even as he spoke them.

“I want to help.  Make myself useful.”  Marley raised his eyebrows.

“Do you now?  I should probably say ‘about time’ then.  Let’s see if we can’t put you to work.  Hmm…”

“Oi!  Satin-boy, you looking to help out?  Give him here then, Marley, he can help work the pile; I’ve got my own things to sort out.”  The call came from the man standing atop what was left of the stockpile, the boy recognised him as James.  Marley nodded and then glanced down at the boy again.

“You heard him.  Get over there.”  He gave the boy a gentle push before turning back to his conversation.  James reached down a hand to help pull him up onto the pile of goods and supplies.

“Right, easy enough, Satin-boy; just grab up things here in a way that doesn’t make it all collapse, and hand ‘em off to the boys.  They sort out where to load it all, so don’t fret about that.  In your hands then.”  He tossed one last bundle to a waiting pair of hands, then jumped down from the pile, and headed towards the horses.

“Into it, Satin-kid, we haven’t got all morning!”  A voice from another raider called, with just a hint of a laugh in it.  The boy got to work, picking out bundles and passing them down as quickly as he could.  It proved to be a welcome distraction until everything was handed out and loaded, and the men were mounting up.

His stomach ached and growled almost constantly as he sought out Marley’s horse, dreading the long and uncomfortable ride ahead.  Marley glanced down at him as he approached and winked, reaching out a hand.  The boy couldn’t fathom why the man was grinning at him so, or why he seemed so unaware of the boy’s ire.  After all he had done and caused for the boy, how could he do anything but loathe the man?  And yet, Marley smiled.

“Up you come, lad.”  As he swung the boy up, he leaned back enough to shout to the others.  “Let’s move it boys!  Feel the wind in your face and enjoy it!”  The horse leapt forward, and the boy clung on fiercely, trying to ignore his already sore muscles.  Once they’d been riding for a few minutes, he felt a shift in Marley’s body against his back, and glanced up to see the man looked down at him.

“Hah, bet you’re smarting something terrible, eh boy?  Hardly satin sheets here.  Don’t worry; grow a little more, get yourself a horse, and soon you’ll be able to ride along with the rest of us.  Much better all around, that’ll be.”  He nodded to himself.  “We’ll find you a small one, a light courser, perhaps.  More swift than they are strong, but it’ll suit you better while you’re young.”  The boy couldn’t manage to look at his eyes properly, focused on hanging on as he was, but the remark threw him.

“Thought the world doesn’t care about the pain.  Thought the world wouldn’t help with anything.”  Marley burst into laughter, seeming to lose his breath entirely for a few moments.

“Oh, Aye, There’s a thing, eh?  Told ‘em you had spirit.  Fair enough boy, how’s this then?  It benefits me to get you on a horse of your own.  Shade here might be fast and strong, but you’re a growing lad, no?  She’ll over-tire compared to the other horses if she’s carrying you as well all the time.”  Looking down at the horse’s neck, the boy felt himself glowering.

“Then why bother at all?”

“Hmph.  You last long enough, kid, and maybe I’ll feel like answering that.”  They rode in silence until Marley called the first rest a few hours later.

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