Eat the Poor

VII

I shivered.

The King lay with his cheek buried in the crook of his elbow and looked up at me through drowsy eyes. "You're not a gardener, are you?"

I was about ready to piss myself. "No."

He giggled again. "What are you?"

"Um. A hall boy," I squeaked out.

"Hmm. Well, I'm not really a king," he told me, his eyes sparkling. They cast a sort of spell on me, numbed the nausea climbing my throat.

"What are you?"

He leaned forward, smiling as he cupped one hand over his mouth. "A goblin."

Before I could laugh, a shout rang out. "His Majesty has disappeared!"

The men scanned the garden.

"Wherever has he gone?"

"He was just there moments ago."

The King frowned. "Took them long enough."

"You better go back out there," I said. "Not, um, not that I'm telling you what to do or anyth-"

"You're right," he interrupted. "We shall do it together." He took a huge breath as if preparing to ride into battle and rose onto all fours. "Away!"

I crawled after him, my eyes squeezed shut to avoid being blinded by swinging bits of shrub. The King stood and brushed himself off while the men gasped and gripped each other's sleeves.

"Great heavens, there he is!"

"My God, I thought it was a fox at first. My heart nearly ceased to beat."

One of the younger men ran to us and flung his arms about the King dramatically as if shielding him from some danger. "Oh, sire!" he sobbed. "Sire!"

"I'm alright, you see, I lost my... my-"

"Ring," I offered.

"Yes, right, and-" He held out his fingers, which bore several rings- "Mr Murray, the gardener, assisted me in finding it."

The nobleman let out a shuddering cry. "I thought we had lost you! Oh-" He leaned away and pulled a handkerchief from his vest to dab under his eye.

The Lord Chamberlain, the spider, fixed me with a cold stare. I let out a muffled yelp as the tip of his walking stick jabbed hard into my foot. "Next time," he said, "His Majesty might consider utilizing a page to locate the ring..."

The King swallowed. "Right. Thank you, Mr Murray."

"Ah," I mumbled, half fear and half pain, "Anytime."

The Lord Chamberlain narrowed his eyes but begrudgingly released me. As I was limping towards the path I heard a voice that stopped me in my tracks.

"Mr Murray?"

My breath caught. "Yes?"

The King hesitated for a moment. "Mr Murray... if you ever fancy being anything other than a hall boy... well, what I mean is, we could easily find you some proper employment."

Proper employment. Perhaps where I wouldn't be working purely for a cot to sleep on and a bowl of wet bread.

"What sort of job you got in mind?" I asked.

He shrugged. "What skills do you possess?"

I considered. The truth was, I possessed very few. I couldn't hunt, I couldn't cook. I could barely read. I didn't know how to build or craft anything. I was hopeless with any sort of tool.

"I'm good with animals," I answered finally.

"You could work in the stables," he suggested. "Do you ride?"

I'd never touched a horse in my life. "Oh, yeah. Every chance I get."

"Alright, then," he said, like he'd just sealed off a deal with some enemy country. "I shall have a page take you." He snapped his fingers and one of the young boys emerged from the huddle of noblemen. "Page, tell the stable master I've sent him Mr Murray to work."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The page bowed.

"Thank you..." I started uneasily. "I think." He wasn't really giving me the job, was he? The stable master would have to decide if I was qualified.

But still. He seemed to be going out of his way for me quite a bit.

So are you, Mr-Crawl-Through-The-Shrubs-And-Throw-Rocks.

"Good day, then," the King murmured. With his heels, I noticed we were about the same height. Barefoot, I'd be an inch or two taller.

"What?" I said. "Oh, good day."

He tilted his head a little like he hadn't expected that response. I realized how rude I must have sounded and tried to remember what the page boy had called him.

I smiled too wide and lowered myself into a clumsy bow. "Good day, Your Majesty." Somehow, it came out sounding like I was mocking him.

He smiled, then made it disappear so fast I wondered if I'd only imagined it. "Good day."

I gave another pitiful attempt at bowing and spun around to follow the page down the garden path before I had the chance to put my life in any more danger. As we walked in silence, my head swam with a seasick blend of questions.

Why ask my name? Why offer me a job? Why not toss me into the dungeon for sneaking around the gardens and lying about my position?

Could it simply be that he found me as fascinating as he'd said?

And the biggest question: Why smile as his beloved father lay broken in a pool of blood and broken stone?

I was playing with fire, hot, thirsty red flames, but I couldn't stop now. Something had drawn me to him, a willing moth to a fatal flame.

He was fire, but I was quickly realizing how much I liked the color red.