Free The Baker's Boy by J. V. Jones Page B

her tongue. Now he suspected it was fear. He was nine
when his mother had died, and one of his most enduring memories of her was how
she would insist on watching the castle gates each morning to see all the
visitors arrive. They would go together arm in arm, up to the battlements,
where they would have a good view of everyone applying for entry into Castle
Harvell. It was his favorite part of the day; he enjoyed being out in the fresh
air and watching the hundreds of people who walked through the gates.
    There were great
envoys with huge retinues, lords and ladies on fine white horses, richly
dressed tradesmen from Annis and Bren, and farmers and tinkers from nearby
towns.
    His mother would
keep him amused by telling him who people were and why they were important.
What struck him now was how keen a grasp she'd had on the affairs of Harvell
and its northern rivals; she kept herself well informed and was always eager
for news of politics and power plays. For many years after her death, Jack had
thought it was curiosity that made her watch the gates. Yet curiosity wouldn't
make a dying woman, who toward the end could barely walk, drag herself up to
the battlements each day to search the faces of strangers.
    It was fear that
marked her features at such times. Oh, she tried to hide it. She had a hundred
anecdotes at her lips to take his mind from the cold and from her true reasons
for being there. She had nearly succeeded, as well. Even now, though, he could
recall the pressure of her fingers as they rested upon his arm and feel the
delicate strain of her fear.
    What had caused
this watchfulness? This fear of strangers? To discover that, he must first find
where she came from. His mother had left nothing for him to go on. She had been
ruthless in withholding all information about herself. He knew nothing, save
that she wasn't from the Four Kingdoms and had been branded a whore. Through
the long nights, when sleep refused to come, Jack dreamt of tracking down her
origins like a knight on a quest, of finding out the truth behind her fear.
    Dreams were one
thing, the reality of life in the castle was quite another. If the night
stirred his imagination, then the day stifled it. What was he but a baker's
boy? He had no skills to speak of, no future to plan for, no money to call his
own. Castle Harvell was all there was, and to leave it would be to leave
everything. Jack had seen the way beggars were treated at the castle-they were
spat upon and ridiculed. Anyone who didn't belong was considered lower than the
lowest scullery maid. What if he left the kingdoms only to end up scorned and
penniless in a foreign land? At least the castle offered protection from such
failure; whilst in its walls he was guaranteed a warm bed, food to eat, and
friends to laugh with.
    As Jack climbed
the stairs to Baralis' chamber, he couldn't help thinking that a warm bed and
food to eat were beginning to sound like a coward's reasons to stay.
    Baralis was well
pleased with the events of the last five years. The country was still embroiled
in a disabling war, a war that served only to sap the strength and resources of
both Halcus and the Four Kingdoms. Many bloody battles had been fought and
heavy casualties were incurred on both sides. Just as one party seemed to gain
the advantage, the other party would suddenly receive some unexpected help; news
of enemies' tactics would be whispered in an interested ear, details of supply
routes would fall into improper hands, or sites of possible ambush were
revealed to unfriendly eyes. Needless to say, Baralis had been responsible for
every fatal betrayal.
    Stalemate suited
him nicely. With the attention of the country focused to the east, Baralis
could hatch his own plots and follow his own agenda at court.
    As he sipped on
mulled holk to soothe the pain in his fingers, he reflected on the state of the
king. Since Lesketh had taken the arrow to the shoulder, he had never been the
same. The wound had healed after a few