Free The Orphan King by Sigmund Brouwer

know.”
    The knight could guess the reasons, of course, for if Thomas did not belong to the enemy, then Sarah had taught Thomas his destiny and what he must do to reach it. The knight was glad for the fierce light and the determination that he saw. Unless, he quickly told himself, Thomas was doing what the knight himself was doing. Acting a role. Something the knight needed patience to determine.
    “No,” the knight said, continuing his own role. “I will not do this.”
    “I believe,” Thomas answered, “your refusal is a matter between you and God, for didn’t you just swear a vow in front of Him?”
    “Honor,” the knight muttered as he dropped his shoulders to give an appearance of resignation, “is often too highly rated.”

T homas followed the knight up a bank. They had just crossed a stream. John had already scampered to the top.
    Behind them, Thomas heard a splash. He looked back. The mute girl had fallen into the water while stepping across the round mossy stones that formed a natural bridge.
    He stopped. The knight looked at him and shrugged.
    Thomas moved down to the stream to help the girl, for she sat in the water with a frustrated expression on her face.
    “Are you hurt?” Thomas asked.
    She shook her head in lack of comprehension, completely soaked with water, then reached up with her right hand. Thomas pulled her up. Standing in front of him, she pushed her long wet hair away from her face and behind her head with both hands, then squeezed her hair free of excess water.
    In that moment, with her face fully exposed and glistening, Thomas saw how amazingly beautiful she was.
    She gave him a hesitant smile and reached for his hand again.
    He helped her keep her balance as she finished crossing the stream. Ahead of them, the knight had reached the top of the bank, satisfied that Thomas and the mute girl were clear of the water.
    That left the two of them briefly alone.
    Her clothes were soaked and clung to her body, and with an involuntary glance Thomas realized she was much more than a girl. He quickly looked away to preserve her modesty.
    She pulled on his hand, however, and when he looked her in the face, she kissed the tips of her fingers and touched them to his lips. She mouthed two words. Thank you .
    As he struggled with new emotions that made him tremble, she walked past Thomas and up the bank.

    The four of them entered a small town marked from a distance by the church steeple. A pleasant river ran through the center, a rough wooden bridge connecting the banks.
    That was about all that was pleasant about the town, however. Human waste littered the streets where shop owners, who lived above their businesses, routinely emptied their chamber pots from their windows each morning. Half-starved dogs roamed, looking for any scrap of food, artfully dodging kicks from irritated passersby.
    Thomas made straight for the marketplace, feeling satisfaction at the weight of the gold coins in a pouch hanging from his neck.
    The town square was crowded. Thomas noted with amusement that a noblewoman was bargaining hard for a delicate flea cage, accusing the silversmith of a flaw in the intricate design. A flea cage was a small cube that held a piece of fat. It hung on a long chain from the wearer’s neck, hidden beneath clothing. As fleas moved up and down the person’s body, they would enter the cage and get stuck to the fat. At the end of the day, the wearer opened the cage and threw out the fat and the fleas.
    Thomas found this amusing because she was berating the silversmith for an object that would never be seen in public once she began to wear it. The silversmith didn’t bother to argue but simply told her the price was the lowest he could offer, and he was thinking of melting it down to turn into a pendant anyway.
    Thomas didn’t wait for the end of the discussion and stepped over horse droppings on his way to a farrier.
    “Hang on, lad,” William said. “I’m a little worried about that look