Sword and Urn (Edited & Revised)

Chapter 21

"Let's have some rope Lundrick."

I fought trying to break free of Rosdin's hold on me but he was much stronger than me and it was no use.

"Hurry up. We don't want any brave villagers interfering like his father."

Lundrick grabbed a long coil of rope from a hook on the stable wall and walked over to us.

"Now tie his hands up."

I tried kicking Lundrick away but Rosdin just squeezed me against him and lifted my feet off the ground. I tried to wiggle out of his hold on me but I couldn't get away. The rope was rough, burning my skin as Lundrick tied it around my wrists. He pulled hard, making sure it was tight, sending one last line of fire across my wrists. Rosdin retrieved his horse from a stable. He climbed atop him and then rode over and reached down for the end of the rope.

"Come on Rosdin, you'll need your hand for riding. Let's throw him in the wagon. He doesn't deserve death right? A life of slavery ought to teach him a lesson."

"You've got a point."

Lundrick walked back to a stable and got his horse, towing me behind him. Then we walked to their wagon and stopped. He grabbed my shoulder and turned me around with a violent tug.

"Now, what have you got here that we can profit off of?"

He ripped my bedroll from my back and threw it to the ground, stepping on his end of the rope so I couldn't run off. He unrolled it and went through my stuff. He pulled out my clothes, and walked over to the wagon, cutting the rope holding the gate closed.

"Can't get my own knots loose. Someone had to cut them to escape two nights back. Was that someone you?" he said, throwing my clothes into the wagon. He walked back to my bedroll and picked up the fishing rod.

"This is nice. We can buy something with this."

Then he picked up the teapot and the frying pan.

"These might get us a little something," he said, and set them aside. Then he opened my small pack with my food, coin purse, and the urn inside. A wave of a hopelessness washed over me as I watched him unpack all my most precious belongings. Each object held its own memory and here he was scrutinizing them. He didn't care about the sentimental value they held for me. Only for what they would fetch at the market. For the first time I understood why some people had a hard time selling us items even in desperate times. Those items had more value to them than their worth at a market table. I dreaded what he'd find next. There was a small, inkling of hope inside of me that didn't want him to find my coins and the urn. He cut my hopes from me then, like Rosdin's thumb from his hand. He undid my small pack with my food, coin purse and urn, smiling as he heard the jingling of the coins inside.

"Well, maybe we'll be getting a little something back for all our troubles after all," he said raising the purse with a few shakes to hear the coins jingle.

"Now, what else? This dried meat looks good, oh and what's this?"

He opened my box of tea, and sniffed it.

"This smells like some good stuff. I say we keep it, and that tea kettle. Might be nice to have some on the road. Ah here's some water. Don't need that."

He dumped what was left of the water I had from Dalwark's well.

"We'll want to keep the sword. I don't see that there's anything else to sell except maybe that little wooden thing."

"And his knife. It's on his hip."

"Yes, how about that knife? Let's have a look at it." Lundrick said.

He took it from my side and held it up. The sun's rays glinting against the knife looked like little shimmering diamonds. In a flash he swung it down, resting the blade on my cheek. Fear rose within me. Then he slid it away pressing it into my flesh as he did so. I shivered; the cold metal felt like ice against my cheek. I winced as I felt a sharp sting where the knife had been, and then my blood trickle down my face warm and wet.

"It's a sharp blade. Was it you then, the other night freeing that boy from our wagon?"

I kept my eyes to the ground, watching little red drops spill from my face to mix with the dust below.

"He's not a talker Rosdin."

"That's good, I don't like talking," Rosdin said.

"He doesn't," Lundrick said to me with a toothy smile. He looked back at my bedroll.

"What's this then?" he said, picking up my father's urn. I didn't say anything.

"Well, we could sell this. It won't sell for much, but it's better than nothing."

"Please don't take that from me," I said.

"Oh, so he can speak. What is it then?" Rosdin said.

"It's nothing. Just a present from my mother. I always carry it with me. She made it."

I didn't want them to know my father's ashes were inside.

"Well she's not much of an artisan. It's not even painted. We won't get much for this."

"I need more wine. You go sell it with that fishing rod, spend some coin from that purse and get us lots of wine." Rosdin said.

"In time, just wait a moment." Lundrick said and he looked at me.

"I take it your mother is not around anymore. Now where is your father?"

He threw the remaining blankets into the wagon, and then me. I didn't move. He walked in after me, untied my hands and asked me again. When I didn't answer he shook me.

"Out with it boy! Where is he?"

Tears threatened to join the blood on my cheek, but I wouldn't let them come.

"He killed him," I said, nodding to Rosdin.

"Is that so?" said Lundrick with a bit of wonder in his voice.

"I knew I got a good one in on him before he took my thumb. Serves him right. No one battles me and lives," Rosdin said.

Lundrick used the rope from my hands to tie the gate closed again. I could see there would be no way I could untie it in the night as they slept. He had some skill with rope but it must have been self-taught because he couldn't untie what he secured.

"Well I guess it is just you then. I'll be back with the wine Rosdin. You just watch the boy." Lundrick left me with a brooding Rosdin. I didn't say anything else. I just focused on holding back the tears and how I could escape. I had to get free somehow and get my father's ashes back. Whoever Lundrick sold the urn to would surely empty it out to sell it. I thought and thought, but I could see no way of escaping. There was no way I could keep my promise and fulfill my father's dying wish. The only thing I could do was wait to be sold as a slave. I couldn't help it. I collapsed onto the rough wooden floor of the wagon and shoved my face into my sleeve to muffle my sobbing.