For the Hand of a Princess

Chapter 1 Farm hand

“We can do it you know.” John said picking his fingers along a soft brown stick.

He was carving something, though I wasn’t sure what. I watched as his fingers worked the wood, bending it to his will to achieve his vision.

“Do what?” I asked.

I kept my gaze locked on the stick in John’s hands. It began to take shape into a slight curve. My stomach ached from lack of food and my feet were cold. We sat under the cover of the stables away from the rain. It was warm thanks to the horses but the smell wasn’t all that great.

“We can be like them,” He said gesturing to the castle far away from this tiny village.  “Safe and warm in our chambers with all the food we can eat.” He said with a tone of longing.

I followed his gaze. The castle did look like a nice place to be. My empty stomach clenched at the thoughts of food. I would give anything to be up there.

“How do we do it?” I asked John.

He looked up at me with a shocked expression. His hard steel like grey eyes always held a hint of a wild hair. John was the kind of man who would do anything for his family, if he had one. Me and John we’re both orphans who lost our parents in war.

“How do you think?” John said.

He had a crazy look in his eyes and the stick he was carving had turned into a miniature sword. I did the only thing I could think of. I laughed a hardy laugh.

“You? kill the king?” I managed out while laughing.

He put his meaty hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. His hand was rough from the years of farm labor and didn’t smell very good.

“Keep it down! They could kill you for something like that!” John said in a strained voice.

I swallowed hard. He was right, if the guards caught us saying anything bad about the king, kingdom, or anything to do with the royals we would be executed. My eyes darted around out of instinct. John and I came to the same conclusion that there were no guards around when he lifted his hand off of my face.  

“For your information I would.” John said in a serious tone.

I wanted it to be a joke but something about his voice made it seem like he really did want to kill the king. I wanted a better life as well so what if we did kill the king and became a royal?

“Get up you lazy good for nothing!” yelled the stable owner Ben.

He was an older man with a pot belly and a long full beard. He always smelled of beer and today was no different. His breath was sour as I could smell it a few feet away from him. He wore the same clothes as he had all week. A tattered brown shit and mud smudged black pants.

“Clean stable nine!” Ben shouted as he checked our other stales.

We did as we were told. Work at the stables was hard and not worth the pay but we did get a little food and a bed to sleep in. it wasn’t long until my hands had blisters and my feet and back hurt. We worked in silence and in sync. Once we were done with the stable all we wanted to do was crawl into bed, but we still had to put fresh stray in all the stables.

“I don’t want to be a farm hand for the rest of my life” I heard John mumble.

He was watching at the castle again. I patted my hand on his shoulder as a friendly gesture. The castle was far off in the distance with the colds surrounding it. All you could see were the few towers were the king, queen and other very important people slept.

“I don’t want to either.” I said.

John turned his body to face me. He looked around the barn for anybody but it was just us. The horse we in the felid and Ben was most likely getting drunk at the pub.

“Can I show you something?” he asked.

I couldn’t think of anything to say so I just nodded my head. He led me to his room. He had the same stiff mattress as me with the same shabby looking grey blanket. He closed the door and walked over to a chest in the corner. I studied the wooden chest. It was a coffee color with strange carvings.

“It was my father’s” John explained.

I about jumped out of my skin when I saw what he was holding. A shiny sword was held in hid meaty hands like it belonged there. The blade was long with the same carvings as the chest. The hilt had the crest of a knight.

“John!” I said harshly “Do you know how much trouble you could be in if Ben or the guards knew you had that!”

He looked guilty. He hung his head and his fingers played with the lose thread of the hilt. I had to admit it was a beautiful sword that looked as if it held some sort of power.

“I know, but it’s the last thing I have of my dad” he explained.

I wasn’t sure how to take this news. John’s dad was a knight of some sort and he was stuck here as a farm hand. I had a feeling there was more to this story. My eyes never left the blade.

“Your dad was a knight?” I asked hesitantly.

John placed the sword back into the chest gently before turning to me. He placed his hands in his pockets and his eyes didn’t have the same wild look to them.

“Well, it wasn’t my dad’s. He kinda stole it” John said.

I wanted to scream. What if someone found out about it? Suddenly I realized the true reason why John was showing me the sword.

“Your serious about becoming a royal?” I asked.

The fire was lit behind John’s eyes again as he smiled a wicked grin. I shifted uncomfortable as I waited for an answer. John nodded his head. We both jumped at the sound of knocking on his door.

“Dinner, you good for nothing!” Ben shouted

I looked at John before opening his door.

“Tell no one” I whispered.

He nodded. We left for dinner of scrapes and left overs. My body was thankful for the fuel to live another day in this hell. My mind was rushing with thoughts of the castle and if John was really serious about killing the king.