Portrait of a Knight

Chapter 4: True Intentions

I sat in the bath of Pearlshire Manor. My skin soaked in relaxation. I had never had a real bath before; that is, I had never used soap. It was supple and soothing to my current condition.
Outside the tub was a matronly woman in a faded green dress and white apron. A white bonnet covered her thin hair. She was a woman who didn't miss many meals as I had. Her chin was rather large, and apparently had relatives on her throat. Her nose was small and her eyes too close together for my taste, but she was kind enough.
Well, she could be kind. She spent most of the time in trying to restrain me, for I was having too much fun in this fresh and clean water. Layers and layers of dirt were being removed from me. I felt like an ancient rock deposit.
The maid's name, I would come to know as Miss Mary Ann. She found me troublesome, but with perseverance, she accomplished her task and I was clean; however, I was much too wild to be kept down.
I sprang from the tub, bare of clothing, and took off through the manor. Miss Mary Ann's voice chased after me with little effect.
I remember sprinting through the halls, my wet feet slipping on the wooden floors. I crashed into a few stands and tables, leaving a trail of broken flower pots in my wake. My long black hair covered my eyes continuously and I laughed as I swept it away and crashed into something new.
I neared what appeared to be the entrance. There was a young boy wearing rather fashionable clothes. He had not seen me. He was preoccupied with opening the large wooden doors. I sprinted for them.
As the doors opened, a tall man of muscular build holding a large shield appeared. I crashed right into his knees and crumpled to the floor.
Miss Mary Ann appeared. She seemed relieved.
The man turned out to be Sir Nicholas. He hoisted me to my feet.
I rubbed my head and looked at the boy. He looked nothing like me. He looked more like Sir Nicholas. He was white of skin and had dark brown hair. His face had soft features and his cheeks were high with youth, but I could see disappointment in his eyes as he examined me.
I turned to Miss Mary Ann. She had taken to scolding me in a language I still could not comprehend. The most prominent change in her physiognomies was the bright red her face now exhibited. Her index finger never left my face. When she seemed to run out of energy, she looked at Sir Nicholas and addressed him as 'Master.'
He exchanged a few words with her. His tone was low and authoritative.
In the next moment, Miss Mary Ann wrenched my arm in her hand. She yanked me away from Sir Nicholas and dragged me through the hall.
I turned to see the great man once more before I was taken away. Sir Nicholas was leaning over the young boy. He handed the child his shield, and ruffled the boy's hair.
***
I didn't see Sir Nicholas again. Not for a few months that is. After my first hours in Pearlshire Manor, I was thrust into the world of learning. Miss Mary Ann had taken me to the west wing of the manor. It was empty and what little furniture it had was covered in white sheets. There was dust on the dust and rats ran amok.
The months from April to October found me confined to this wing. Twice a day I was fed, ample portions mind you. It was much better than living as a slave under Kyrá Marlbos. My strength was restored and I put some meat on my bones. I even grew half a head!
It was lonely, though. I only ever had three visitors. They were: Miss Mary Ann when I either required food or laundry, Dr. Wilcox when I developed a brief cough that laid me up for weeks in September, and Miss Glass.
Miss Glass was a woman of six and twenty. She was average in height, but excellent in heart. She was also different from the rest of the English natives. She had very fair skin and fiery hair, and her accent was much different. She was Irish.
Miss Glass learned me many things. She was my teacher. Before any learning could transpire, she had to learn me the native language.
It was an arduous task, one that I consistently found to be futile until one day late in June that I understood how to form a sentence.
Miss Glass had been so proud of me that she lifted me up into the air and danced me about the room. We had caused a commotion and Miss Mary Ann appeared. Miss Glass put a finger to her lips to keep me quiet and she exchanged words with the other.
I understood this time and listened in. Miss Glass had said, "Jamison is a difficult child. I will need more time."
"The Master will not be pleased," Miss Mary Ann had responded. "He needs a new page within the year. Your time will expire soon. You have not..." and I could not understand the rest.
Miss Glass only shook her head. Contented, Miss Mary Ann had left.
It wasn't for months, after I'd learned to form questions and write letters and do arithmetic that I understood the dilemma. The Master had forbidden me to read. He wished me to learn English to take orders. That was all. But Miss Glass was bright indeed. She had kept my developments minimal in the eyes of Miss Mary Ann when in reality she learned me many things, things I was not supposed to learn, like Greek letters.
It was in October 14- when the Master intruded on our session.
"Sir Nicholas!" I exclaimed. I was happy to see him, but he was clearly upset.
He stormed to Miss Glass and snatched her to her feet. "Reading is not for his kind!" he raged. He tossed her to the ground and snatched the book from my hands. In an act of pure strength, I watched as he tore the book in half. I never thought even the idea possible! He then kicked me in the chest. I flattened on my back. "Miss Glass, thou art out! Thou wilt be on the next ship to thy pathetic homeland!"
Sir Nicholas ended his rant by seizing my collar. I was pitched onto his shoulder as he marched out of the study.
My eyes streamed tears and I reached helplessly for Miss Glass, never to see her again.