Caladrius Feathers

Chapter One - Unwelcome

The chilled air pricked my skin through the cotton tunic and poet shirt like needles. The contrast between my inward body heat violently pulsing through my veins and the outward blanket of winter that had set itself upon me made my muscles spasm. In an attempt to warm my bare hands I rode with them tucked under my arms. The usually stiff dirt sloshed beneath Othello's hoofs in a grainy puddle. 

There was a sense of impending doom in the air. It had decided to make itself comfortable in these woods many years ago. The path I followed was well-worn and beaten down. At one end of the road were small villages, where farmers lived a quiet life tending to their sheep and cattle. On the other end was Castle Town, a bustling city full of merchants, dancers, pick-pockets, inn keepers, and peasants. My horse was plodding along slowly, but I can honestly say I was in no rush to return home; my past year had been spent far away training with Olaf Gondrig, a retired and respected knight of Falsatorre. Rigorous hours of hard labor, sword training in the fields, running in wet sand, jumping through obstacle courses, and days of butt-numbing horseback riding had left me with nothing but a sore back, and calloused hands. However, it had left my brother, Aiden, with something much more desirable. A year ago we had both left our home as scrawny little boys, and now one of us was returning a strong, rugged man; It wasn’t me.

            Aiden rode a few feet ahead of me on Kieran, his white stallion that had been a gift from our father. The horse, much like its rider, was adored by many of the female subjects. As a goodbye gift the girls of Olaf’s village had braided Kieran’s snowy mane and adorned it with flowers.

            What waited for me on the other side of the gate that was now looming ahead of us, I was unsure of. Part of me hoped things would be different than how I had left them, that the gates would open and the subjects would shower both of their princes in praise. It was a ridiculous notion, of course, but I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t what I wanted.

            The suspense weighed like bricks on my shoulders as the gate slowly began to open. I shut my eyes momentarily, unsure if I wanted to see what awaited me on the other side.  There was a loud roar, and I dared myself to take a glimpse. Othello had walked through the gate on his own and I found myself riding into a sea of cheering subjects. Children sitting in trees dropped colorful petals down around us, banners and flags danced above smiling faces, and for a moment my smile matched theirs. Then I realized they were not cheering and celebrating for me. Aiden still rode a few paces ahead of me, waving and grinning at his adoring people, but as I made my way through the crowd, they fell silent. The children stopped throwing petals, the banners stopped waving, and all smiles faded into sneers. Twenty feet ahead, Aiden stopped Kieran and spun him around, his crystal eyes scanning the hateful faces of the people. Then his eyes met my own and all at once, there was a great outburst.

            “Bastard!” One man shouted, while another chunked pieces of rotten food.

            “False prince!” A woman’s voice called out. Then all voices were lost in the thunder of insults and rotten fruit that pelted me. Othello startled and ran straight into the angry crowd, knocking over anyone who got in his way. The poor baker didn’t see us coming in time, and Othello plowed right over the fat man, leaving him and his bagels in the dust. The town swept by us in a blur, people screaming and jumping out of the way as we went.

            “Orin!” Aiden called out from somewhere behind me. The reins had long ago flown out of my hands and were writhing like snakes under the stallion’s chin. I gripped Othello’s dark neck for dear life. I dared to reach one hand out desperately trying to grab the reins, but Othello decided to be gracious and leap over a cabbage cart, sending me flying into the air. For a moment I was just hanging there, suspended above the ground, then the sensation of falling hit me and my stomach flew into my throat. The next thing I knew, my arms were flailing through pieces of wood and cabbages and I was face first among the ruins of the poor cart. The cabbage man, who had leapt out of the way and right into a nearby water trough, spat very colorful curses in my direction. The shouting crowd had gathered again by the time the cabbage man’s face looked like a ripe tomato. Aiden rode up and jumped down, offering me his hand. I swatted the offer away and slowly pulled myself up from the rubble with a grunt. My arms and legs were bleeding in multiple places, and I had a few scratches on my face where a branch had hit me, other than that I was unharmed.

            There was a strange stillness in the air, and I realized the crowd had suddenly become very silent, and when I looked up, I knew why. Riding swiftly down the path with the royal procession, was our father. He had aged quite a bit in the year I had been gone. His beard was now streaked with grey and you could see the more defined lines on his face, but it was impossible to not see the likeness he shared to Aiden. The kind blue eyes, the strong jaw, and the warm smile were all dead giveaways, but now he was not smiling now. Our King’s face was solemn as he rode through the crowd, making his way toward us. The people all shared a look of fear as they made way for him. When he surfed his way into the small circle that had formed around us, Aiden took a bold step forward, while I hung my head in shame. This was not the welcome my father had wanted for us, for Aiden.

            “My sons,” He towered over us, his voice filled with fury, “I apologize on behalf of our people, they have not welcomed their princes with respect. They seem to have forgotten their place.” Father spun his horse around to face every section of the mob, and make his point very clear. Once the people had settled down, he turned back to us. A grin spreading across his old face, as he looked down at us with tears in his eyes, “Welcome home.” 

                                                                            *

Aiden clambered back onto his horse and looked down at me with what seemed like pity. I looked away quickly, folding my arms over my chest. Beneath my cotton tunic I could feel my ribcage just barely covered with a thin layer of skin. For someone with access to as much food as I could eat, I was rather puny.

            Father sent two guards to retrieve Othello and had me ride with one of the knights, Sir Kirstin. Sir Kirstin was an older knight with a booming voice and a drinking problem, but he was loyal to my father and had been serving him as for long as I could remember. Eight years ago, when I was seven and Aiden was eight, Sir Kirstin had entered the castle severely drunk in the middle of the night. He had managed to stumble his way through the dark corridors to mine and Aiden’s bedroom. The guards that stood outside our door were fast asleep, and he entered the room quietly. Sir Kirstin stalked over to my bed, shook me violently awake, and grasped me by the hair.

            “Bastard,” His voice was slurred almost to the point of no recognition, “You don’ belong he-re.” He pulled my face up to his, and I nearly choked from his vile breath. “You hear’ me?” Terrified, I shook my head yes. Sir Kirstin clutched my arms and threw me against the headboard. Pain rocketed through my skull, and from the corner of my eye I could see Aiden cowering under his blankets. There was an intense throbbing in the back of my head. I reached up to feel it, but Sir Kirstin picked me up by my shirt collar and flung me to the ground, shouting an array of slurred curses. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, and through them I saw Aiden crawling along the floor behind Sir Kirstin. He made his way toward the door, and managed to wake one of the guards. They hauled Kirstin off, kicking and shouting.

            Now we plodded along rather peacefully. Across the way, Aiden was giving me worried glances. I shrugged him off and tried not to look at the faces of the Royal Procession. Many knights and guards rode close to Aiden, asking him all about his training and congratulating him. With me, they were obviously not interested. Not even Sir Gilling, who never shunned me, approached now.

            The swaying of Sir Kirstin’s horse was making me sick. Combine that with the stench of the man himself and it was downright nauseating.

            We approached the Castle, and I was taken aback at how large it seemed. Great walls of stone surrounded the inner yard where the livestock was held. Towers of grey loomed against the sapphire sky, and I had to shield my eyes from the sun to even get a glimpse of the tallest one. I had only been away for a year, but the Castle I had called my home felt so foreign. My stomach was tying itself in knots when we rode beneath the arch that led into the outer reaches of the castle yards. I didn’t want to face it, but I was terrified of seeing what would never be mine. Aiden would have it all. Hell, he already had it all. The respect, the title, the skill, the power, the birthright. Everything within my vision was Aiden’s.  And why? Because I was the bastard child.