sparrow and lion

Chapter 10: you protect the ones you care about

It was no secret that the boy was a bully. Most noble's children were. It was a key to surviving. Strike before you're struck. Bring your rivals to their knees early. Establish dominance at the start to maintain power later. There were dozens of vaguely militaristic phrases the tutors used to instill animosity and fear into their pupils.

As one might expect, these lessons had been lost on Leo and Wren. Wren was, of course, too soft hearted and tentative for political posturing. Leo, for her part, was simply too ferocious for her own good. Her fierceness, after all, was for Wren's sake.

But ferocity does not equate to foolishness. And so Leo had managed to keep Wren away from the boy until now. Alas, the respective lords of their households had begun to merge trade routes and business ventures. Their children's mutual attendance at events had become a more common occurrence. And that brought about the end of Wren's anonymity.

Leo was not there when the first blow landed. Wren was not where she had told him to wait for her. It was all going very wrong for them. But the boy was pleased.

The boy was named Arthur and, rumor had it, he may not be his father's son. Some gossipers insisted his mother had trysted with the king himself nine months before Arthur's birth. That uncertain parentage made some people sad for the boy. Indeed, many insisted that his attitude likely came from the lord of his household's rejection of him. But that was simply not the case. The lord had too many children from too many women to bother with such trivialities as paternity. No. The lord ignored all of his children equally.

Anyone insistent upon finding the cause of Arthur's cruelty would be sorely disappointed. There wasn't one. He had been born mean. He was mean now. Arthur would be mean for as long as he lived.

But this story isn't about Arthur or his possible fathers. It's about Leo and Wren, who had been left sitting at a table of elderly matrons with strict instructions not to move. Leo had gone in search of the latrine. And then Wren had seen Arthur see Wren. So Wren left.

Which was the exact wrong thing to do.

Leo was not a foolish girl. She had not survived the courts this long by being careless. There simply is no safer place for a sensitive child to be than at a table full of the doting grandmothers of the most powerful men in the kingdom. And so she had placed Wren just so before dashing away to the lavatory.

Wren was a kind child. He was gentle. His math and language tutors called him brilliant. But Wren simply had no mind for the war of politics. Which is why Wren failed to recognize his strategic higher ground and bolted to the back gardens instead. Arthur watched. Then Arthur followed.

Leo was still waiting for the lady's room. She would be unaware of any of this for another fifteen minutes.

In all places, the cruel are accompanied by an echo chamber of sycophants. And, thus, Wren found himself surrounded by a group instead of a lone attacker. The first thing they did was to push him down onto the bench and hold him there. Then the violence began.

It was the same bench where, all those years ago, he had offered to marry Leo. It was the same bench where Leo had found him after the cave with the old man and the raccoon. That was what he was thinking about when the first two hits struck, and he doubled over. Wren even thought he could still see the discoloration from where Leo had beat her fists bloody that night long ago. But that was only for a moment. And then his own blood hid any hints of that night from the cracked stone.

Violence does not always start with words. And this was no exception. Wren had yet to say a word or to hear one. Some violence is understood. Like the fox and the rabbit. The cat and the fieldmouse. Like hunter and prey. Arthur was nothing if not predatory. And he led a pack akin to rabid wolves.