Chapter 13 — Beyond the Gate

Chapter 13: Chapter 13 — Beyond the Gate

Chapter 13 — Beyond the Gate

Bram studied Christopher for several seconds.

"What work?" he asked.

"Whatever Dragonwatch needs," Christopher said. "Moving wood. Unloading wagons. Helping repair buildings."

"Where is Dragonwatch?"

Christopher pointed north. The fortress wall blocked the view, but Bram followed his hand anyway.

"Past the gate. Several days from here."

"Is it cold?"

"Probably colder than Northgate."

Bram considered that. "Do I get a coat?"

"Yes."

"Food?"

"If the rest of us eat, you eat."

"Every day?"

Christopher hesitated before answering. Dragonwatch might have empty storehouses, broken wells, and walls that no longer kept anything out. Promising full meals every day would be easy; keeping that promise was another matter.

"That’s the plan," he said. "But the place may be in bad condition. There will be hard days."

Bram turned to Sister Agnes.

"You don’t have to decide now," she told him.

"Can I come back?"

Christopher answered before she could. "If you dislike the work and we can safely bring you back, yes. I won’t leave you alone on the road."

That appeared to trouble Bram more than the cold.

"I don’t like swords," he said.

"Then I won’t give you one."

Walter shot Christopher a look but kept quiet.

Bram rubbed one scraped knuckle with his thumb. "I can carry things."

"I noticed."

"And dig."

"We will need both."

The ache from the Dragon Eyes had faded to a dull pressure. Christopher resisted the urge to look again. Purple showed Bram’s potential; the choice to leave remained Bram’s.

"Think about it," Christopher said. "I will return this afternoon."

"Afternoon is after the second meal."

"After the second meal, then."

Bram nodded and went back to stacking wood.

Christopher left the temple with Walter and Bennet, and they reached the convoy field before Walter finally spoke.

"You went looking for knights."

"I found someone who can carry things."

"He can carry more than most men."

"That’s why I want Godfrey to see him."

Walter studied him, and Christopher could almost feel the knight wondering why a large, slow orphan had caught his lord’s attention. He gave no explanation.

Godfrey was beside Martin Pike’s tent when they returned. The wounded apprentice sat wrapped in two blankets, eating broth while Martha watched to ensure he finished it. His fever had broken during the morning, but the healer had forbidden him from riding for several more days.

"He can remain in a wagon," Godfrey said after hearing the report. "The wound is clean. Unless the fever returns, he travels with us tomorrow."

"Good. I need you to look at someone."

Godfrey raised an eyebrow. "You found a healer willing to travel north?"

"A boy at the orphanage. I want you to judge his strength."

"You found a knight among the children?"

"I found a sixteen-year-old who is stronger than Walter expected."

Walter frowned. "I said more than most men."

"You thought it loudly."

Godfrey left Martin to his broth and followed them back through the fortress.

Bram was splitting kindling when they arrived, using a small wood axe with careful, uneven strokes. Sister Agnes stood nearby, mending one of the gray coats.

"Bram," she called. "These men wish to speak with you again."

He set down the axe at once.

Godfrey walked around him without pretending not to stare. Bram turned his head to keep the Silver Knight in sight.

"Hold out your hands," Godfrey said.

Bram did not move.

"Why do you need to see them?"

"I want to see them."

Bram checked with Sister Agnes. She nodded, and he extended both hands. Godfrey examined the calluses on his palms, then pressed a thumb against Bram’s forearm.

"Push against me."

"With my hand?"

"Both hands."

Godfrey raised one arm. Bram placed his palms against it and pushed. At first he was cautious, until Godfrey told him to try harder.

Bram leaned his weight forward. His boots scraped across the frozen dirt, the muscles beneath his coat tightened, and Godfrey’s sleeve pulled against his arm. The Silver Knight did not move, but his expression changed.

"Again," he said.

Bram pushed until his face reddened.

Godfrey lowered his arm. "Enough."

"Did I do it wrong?" Bram asked.

"You did exactly what I asked."

Godfrey picked up one end of the broken handcart. "Lift the other side."

Bram gripped the frame and raised it so quickly that its loose wheel fell free, and he stood holding most of its weight while Godfrey crouched to inspect the split axle.

"Put it down gently," Sister Agnes said.

Bram obeyed.

Godfrey turned to Christopher. "He has the raw strength of a Black Iron Knight."

Walter eyed Bram again. "You mean he is already as strong as a Black Iron Knight?"

"I said he was strong." Godfrey wiped his hand on his coat. "He still needs training."

Christopher studied Bram’s hands. Strength was not the same as training.

"Could you train him?" Christopher asked.

"Perhaps. His body is better than most beginners." Godfrey nodded toward Bram, who was trying to fit the fallen wheel back onto the cart. "The rest depends on what he understands."

Sister Agnes put aside her sewing. "He learns ordinary work if someone shows him one task at a time."

"Knight training is different," Godfrey said. "Keep him away from swords for now."

"Does that end it?"

"It means I don’t hand him a sword."

Christopher alone knew how high Bram’s potential might reach. He kept that knowledge to himself.

Godfrey stepped away from the cart. "If he comes, treat him as a worker first. See what he understands. Anything beyond that can wait."

"You don’t object?"

"You need workers. He wants work. I object only if you imagine large arms will solve every problem waiting at Dragonwatch."

"I stopped imagining that before we reached Griffin City."

"Then the road has taught you something."

Bram succeeded in setting the wheel against the broken axle, though it fell away when he released it, and he stared down at it, disappointed.

Christopher approached him. "Have you decided?"

"Sister Agnes said I can choose."

"You can."

"She said you gave us grain."

"That has nothing to do with your choice."

Bram glanced at her again. "I want to work."

"At Dragonwatch?"

"Yes."

Sister Agnes rose and brushed loose thread from her robe. "Then he needs his blanket, spare clothes, and Brother Matthew’s heavy coat. Please remember that he sometimes struggles to understand what people expect."

"I will remember."

"If the arrangement fails, bring him back or find him a safe place."

"I already promised him that."

She held Christopher’s gaze for a moment before accepting the answer.

Bram owned little enough to pack in one cloth bundle. Sister Agnes told him to finish his work and say farewell to the younger children, and Christopher arranged to collect him the next morning.

The rest of the day disappeared into final purchases. Bennet found eight more sacks of grain, four bolts of winter cloth and a barrel of salt fish. Seed grain remained unavailable, and another attempt to hire workers failed.

By late afternoon, Christopher had hired nobody except Bram.

The military healer treating Martin changed that. He caught Christopher outside the treatment room and looked past him at the wagons in the yard.

"Who handles your sick on the road?"

"Martha knows how to clean a wound."

"Martha is your cook."

Christopher disliked how quickly the man had found the hole in his preparations. "Do you know someone willing to go?"

"Willing?" The healer snorted. "No. Desperate enough, maybe."

He sent Christopher to a cramped apothecary near the eastern wall. Mabel Rook stood behind the counter grinding dried leaves, the skin around her fingers stained green, and she did not look up until her master mentioned Dragonwatch.

"No, Master. I won’t go to Dragonwatch."

The apothecary frowned. "You haven’t heard the offer."

"I heard Dragonwatch."

Christopher rested both hands on the counter. "Then you know more about it than I do."

That made her look at him. She was close to his age, perhaps twenty, with tired eyes and a loose strand of dark hair stuck to her cheek.

"They say there is nothing there."

"There may be walls."

"You don’t even know whether the walls remain?"

"I haven’t seen it."

Her master made an impatient sound. "Eighteen silver marks, my lord. Pay what her family owes me and she is free to waste her training wherever she pleases."

Mabel set the stone pestle down too hard. "The debt paid for my mother’s medicine."

"And it remains unpaid."

Christopher looked between them. "If I clear it, does she owe me instead?"

"That would be for his lordship and you to arrange," the apothecary said.

"No, my lord," Mabel said.

The answer came so sharply that Walter shifted beside the door.

Mabel saw the movement and swallowed. "I mean—I won’t be sold with the debt."

"I am offering wages," Christopher said. "You would be free. If you leave before we reach Dragonwatch, you find your own way back."

"And after we arrive, my lord?"

"You can leave when travel is safe. I won’t pretend that will be whenever you please. There may not be another convoy for months."

She stared at the leaves scattered across the counter. "My mother and brother may remain here?"

"If that is what they want."

"Could my wages be sent to them?"

Christopher named the same rate he had offered skilled workers in Griffin City. Mabel’s master opened his mouth, perhaps to demand a share, but she spoke first.

"Then I would want them paid to my mother."

"Half to her," Christopher said. "Half held for you. You will need money of your own."

Mabel rubbed the green stain from one finger. "You don’t know whether I’m any good."

"The military healer sent me."

"Did he tell you I was good enough for the work?"

"He said desperate."

Her laugh escaped before she could stop it, the tension in her shoulders loosening, though only slightly.

"Three years," she said. "I can stitch cuts, clean wounds, set simple breaks and treat common fever. Anything worse needs a real healer."

"That’s more than we have."

Mabel’s eyes moved to the stairs at the back of the shop, then to the account book beside her master.

"I must speak to my family first, my lord."

"Come to the southern field before nightfall if your answer is yes."

Christopher waited for Mabel’s decision. She arrived near sunset with her medicine case and her mother, and he paid the eighteen silver marks.

By sunset, Christopher had hired two people: Bram and Mabel.

He returned to camp with colder hands, lighter purses, and less food than he wanted. Even so, the wagons were fuller than they had been that morning.

Martha inspected the salt fish and declared that it would keep. Bennet divided the grain among several wagons so one broken axle would not cost them everything. Godfrey set the watch and ordered the apprentices to sleep early.

Christopher ate beside the fire with several soldiers from the fortress who had travelled the old northern road before the war. They warned him about a damaged bridge two days beyond Northgate and a stretch of forest where the road divided around a landslide. Neither man had gone as far as Dragonwatch.

"There used to be villages along that road," one said. "Maybe some still stand."

"Occupied?" Christopher asked.

The soldier shrugged. "You will know before I do."

Christopher thanked him and remembered the warning.

At dawn, Northgate woke to horns from the walls.

The convoy formed slowly in the southern field. Martin lay in the back of a covered wagon while Mabel checked the bandage on his arm. Her mother and younger brother had already said their farewells and returned inside Northgate. The Carter family rode near Martha’s kitchen wagon. Walter checked the fifteen slaves and their collars while Ivo counted the livestock.

Bram arrived carrying his bundle under one arm. Several children accompanied him as far as the field, the smallest clinging to his coat until Sister Agnes coaxed them away.

Joan Carter found a place for his spare clothes in the kitchen wagon. When she asked Bram to carry a water barrel, he lifted it without waiting for help and started toward the wrong wagon. Meg caught his sleeve and pointed him back, and Bram changed direction without complaint.

"That one," Joan said, touching the rear board of Walter’s supply wagon. "Put it beside the other barrel."

Bram placed it exactly where she indicated.

Elsie stared up at him. "You’re very big."

"Yes," Bram said.

The answer made Meg laugh. Bram did not understand why, but after a moment he smiled with her.

Christopher watched from several steps away. Bram would need patience, and not everyone in the convoy possessed much of it. For the moment, staying beside the wagon was enough.

Christopher assigned him a place beside the supply wagons and told Walter to give him one instruction at a time.

"Stay beside this wagon," Walter said. "If it stops, you stop. If it moves, you move."

Bram nodded. "Stay with the wagon."

The order suited him.

Christopher mounted near the front. The northern gate opened as the sun rose above the eastern wall, revealing an empty road covered in white frost.

Lord Marshal Baldwin watched from the battlements without coming down to offer another warning. Godfrey raised one hand, and the first wagon rolled beneath the gatehouse. Christopher followed it onto the empty northern road.