Left Hand of Destiny

Part 4

"May I?" he called in. 

"Sir Martin. O' course ye may. Come in, come in. We were expectin' ye. Sit yerself down and we'll serve ye right up," Beatrell said. 

"Thank you, ma'am. I'm still trying to recover from a week and more of trail food," Martin said with a grin as he sat on the indicated stool. 

"Me thinks ye've gone for longer than that eating rations, Sir Martin." 

"Oh, I have. Much longer. But that doesn't mean I enjoyed it much or didn't appreciate coming back to home cooking. Especially your cooking. I've been looking forward to this breakfast since the day we left." 

"Will ye listen to the man talk," the cook said to her helpers. "Ye've a smooth tongue worthy of the young Prince when ye've a mind to," she said to Martin. 

He just smiled as one of the helpers came to the table and delivered a loaf of the savory nut bread and a crock of butter. She bounced a small curtsy and went back to the stove. 

"Ye occupy yerself with that until the rest is ready, Sir Smooth," Beatrell said, fixing him a beady eyed stare, although her mouth was twitching with amusement. 

Martin smiled inwardly, seeing that the cook had become comfortable enough in Martin's company to joke. He closed his eyes and smiled outwardly as he enjoyed the taste of the raisin nuts. In short order he was served a platter containing bacon, eggs, and the browned potato-like slices. A pot of tea and a mug arrived last.  

By the time he was done, he was full and very content. He lingered over the last of his tea and then with heartfelt thanks left the ladies to their tasks of preparing breakfast for the household. He knew he had time before the scheduled meeting with the Princes and Princess so he thought he would take a turn around the manor house and drop in to see Master Jarren, the woodworker. As the sun rose the air began to warm but he knew it was still going to be a cool day. 

In less than a quarter of an hour he was standing at the doorway to the stone and timber structure that housed the orderly and industrious world of the master woodworker. He knocked on the door and waited. He heard a familiar voice call out,  

"Ath, see who it is." 

Martin smiled a bit and remembered the apprentice's name, Athmon, from his discussion with the Princess days before. When the door swung open he studied the boy, or more correctly, the young man who stood there with a questioning look on his face. He was several inches shorter than Martin, of wiry build, with a tangle of black curly hair. His equally dark eyes were focused on Martin. 

"Martin Adams to see Master Jarren, if he has the time." 

Athmon started at the sound of Martin's name but before he had time to reply the familiar voice called out again. 

"Sir Martin, good morning to you. Let him in, Ath, let him in." 

The apprentice stepped back and to the side to hold the door open and he gave a little bow as he gestured for Martin to enter. Martin stepped in and past the young man and stood to once more survey the orderly workspace. He saw that the makings of another wheel chair were spread out on one of the worktables. The Master woodworker hurried over to meet his guest. 

"Sir Martin, so good to see you again. We had heard you were here but it's good of you to visit," he said, taking Martin's hand in one of his own heavily callused ones.  

"Thank you, Master Jarren. I just thought I would stop by and pay my respects and to compliment you on Princess Yolinda's new chair. It's a fine piece of crafting." 

"'tis very kind of you to say so. It's an inspired idea, I must say. The Lady is very happy these days. As you can no doubt see I have another in progress. A gift from the Prince and Princess to one of her aging relatives who can barely walk anymore. Young Ath here was sent out to make the measurements."