Weekly Expression #2 BK

 Weekly Expression #2

By Beka K. 

The fire roared to life as the young lad crept up to the quiet grey haired man. Many years had passed and his last days were soon approaching. The other stable hands and farm boys crept behind the brave lad. Fear held each of their hearts. The old man was prone to a flaring temper. The young lad set the large mug of ale on the small table beside the man. He didn't flinch as the sound echoed through the now silent room. Ale spilled onto the table. The lads hands were shaking. It was deathly silent as everyone grew interested

in the lad's sudden courage to approach the old coon. The boy, now walking alone, stood before the old man and knelt to the ground. The old man gazed upon him, fire reflecting in his eyes.

A truly fearsome sight.

“Please tell me.” The boy asked. A true honest curiosity had grown within him ever since he first heard the fables of the long forgotten tale.

The man sighed, took a huge gulp of his ale before he began. He spread his arms out wide. “Long ago,” He began as he emphasized 'long', “when I was but your age, I had the pleasure to meet a man now long dead. Some say he betrayed us. Others say it never happened.”

“What do you say?”

“I say? I say I have never been more honored to care for such a man's horse in my life. He was like a brother to me and he treated me like family. His name was Sir Harold Deacon but I knew him long before the days of his knighthood.”

“How did he become a knight?” A bright eyed boy asked as he popped up beside him. “I heard he vanquished a thousand men in a single day!”

“I heard he was one of the brigand and that's how he made it in the camp.” Said an older boy who was less than enthusiastic to hear the tale.

“It was a bit of both, you could say.” The old man took another drink. It dribbled down his long, grey scraggly beard. “It was during the time of great famine and heartache. Many were lost to the sickness and starvation that swept our land! Even our great King succumbed to it. It left us all heartbroken to lose a beloved leader and it put a heavy burden on his young wife. If starvation and sickness were not enough on our falling land, the terrible brigand's whispered fear into the hearts of many.”

The old man stood and turned ever slightly, the fire casting it's eerie glow on him as he continued the now frightening tale. Every child sat on the floor, shivering in fear.

“It was then, when all hope seemed lost. When the end was in sight, he arose out of the ashes, determined to put a stop to at least one of our burdens. A simple farmhand like each and every one of you, took up arms and put his mind to work. He came across a brigand scout and captured him. He was but a youth, war and death had not hardened his heart. He knocked the man out and tied him up and left him in the barn with the pigs. During the broad light of day he walked right into the the brigand camp. It was there he learned the truth of the sickness and famine! The brigand's were secretly harvesting all of the good crops, keeping them hidden away in their camp. While destroying and poisoning the rest of the crops which killed the growing crops and the sickened the people eating them. Deacon slipped out of the camp just as easily as he slipped in and ran and alerted the Queen. The army made a final attack and finally put an end to their misery. Soon after, Deacon was knighted by the Queen. It was an honor to stand, right there in the front and watch a true hero receive the recognition he so honestly deserved.”

The old man took his seat and drank more ale from the mug. The boys whispered all around.

“What happened to him?” They all asked.

The man, with a sullen look upon his face replied, “That is tale for another time.”