The Young Magician tlt-1 Read online

  A booted foot took Samuel by surprise as it came crashing into his ribs. It made him yell and his eyes began watering, but Samuel refused to cry in front of his uncle.

  ‘If I catch you stealing again, the gods help me so I won’t kill you myself!’ He turned to move inside. ‘Damned brat!’ he yelled and slammed the door shut.

  Samuel slowly pulled himself up and limped back to the stable. Every moment, every breath, brought a knifelike stabbing into his chest. He sat on his cot, clutching his side and wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. He would have his revenge on both of them, he promised himself. He vowed they would regret the way they treated him and he began to imagine all the terrible things he could do to them.

  ‘Samuel?’ came a soft voice from the doorway, but Samuel turned away from her.

  Jessicah came in and sat beside him. She put her arms around him and said nothing. Samuel’s stubbornness quickly dissipated at her touch and he began to cry in her arms.

  ‘Don’t worry Samuel. I’ll take care of you. It doesn’t matter. It was only a lamp. I’ll get you another.’

  He rubbed his sleeve across his eyes and looked away. ‘I don’t care about it.’

  She sat with him in silence while he cried out his tears. When his sobbing had slowed, she spoke softly. ‘I hear you late at night, Samuel. It’s all right to cry.’

  ‘I dream about them all the time,’ he said, his gaze locked on the floor. ‘I just wish so much they hadn’t died. I wish they could come back. I feel so sad, I just don’t know what I can do. I hate it here. I hate everything!’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. We can take care of each other,’ she told him, and with her beside him, Samuel felt that he had one tiny little piece of family still left in the world.

  She stayed long after her mother began calling, until a tall, thin silhouette appeared in the entrance tapping its foot, forcing her to depart. If it were not for Jessicah, Samuel honestly did not know what he would do.

  It was nearly a week before Samuel thought he was almost better. His chest only hurt now when he rolled on it or moved too quickly. Thankfully, he had barely seen his uncle the entire time, making sure to do all his chores quickly and without the need for being reminded. The man had appeared in the yard this morning, smiling and in good humour, and had sent Samuel to the marketplace for some spice, actually patting him fondly on the head before Samuel could dart past.

  As Samuel was hurrying along, he noticed some boys playing kick-ball in the street. He was watching them from a distance when one boy broke from the others and ran over to him. He recognised the boy. They had played a few times before and his freckled, round face seemed friendly. The other children were watching on and waiting expectantly.

  ‘Want to play?’ the boy asked, short of breath.

  ‘Yes, please,’ Samuel replied with an enthusiastic nod. He was in no hurry to return to the inn and this seemed like a good enough distraction

  ‘Do you know how to play?’ the boy asked and again Samuel nodded.

  He joined the freckle-faced boy’s team and the game began over. There were a couple of rocks spaced a few paces apart at each end of the playing area, which acted as the goal. There was a little rough play, but Samuel was not at all worried-in fact, he delighted in the rough and tumbling play. He pushed just as hard as he was pushed and whenever they tumbled on the ground and began wrestling, he laughed with pure enjoyment, joining in for all he was worth.

  Samuel had a strong kick, but an awful aim and each time he booted the ball towards the goal, he felt embarrassed as his teammates had to chase it and fetch it back. One of the boys on the other team was older and considerably larger than his fellows and he obviously considered himself the champion of the game. He became enraged and swore out loud for all to hear each time anyone tried to take the ball from him. Passers-by in the square gasped and commented at the older boy’s language, but it only made the boy grin all the more. Samuel was not keen to wrestle with him as he had seen him punch others in the nose and make them cry-not at all like the fun wrestling the others enjoyed.

  ‘Careful,’ the freckle-faced boy, Connel, said as he ran past. ‘He’s lookin’ at you.’

  Samuel looked to the rough boy, who was running his finger across his throat and pointing to him with the other. Samuel swallowed hard.

  As Samuel charged to intercept the ball as it spun free, his feet were abruptly knocked from underneath him and he collided harshly with the ground, cracking his chin onto the stones. He yelled out in pain.

  He could hear the big boy laughing and Samuel suddenly boiled over in a rage. In a flash, he was up on his feet. He turned to confront the bully, who grinned with glee and threw himself straight onto Samuel without hesitation.

  Samuel was perhaps the more surprised of them both when he actually knocked the bully over and, after a brief moment in which they were both overcome with disbelief, they began wrestling. Samuel drew a free hand and landed a series of quick, knuckled blows on the bully’s amazed face. This was not his first tussle by any means and Samuel had been honing his skills by watching the drunkards fighting outside the various inns and alehouses around the town. The bully was stunned for a moment, but quickly recovered and rolled over on top of Samuel, holding him easily.

  The other boys all gathered around and cheered as Samuel’s arms were pinned beneath him, leaving him helpless, as the big boy set about clearing his throat. With horror, Samuel realised what was about to happen and struggled frantically, kicking his legs and twisting about in vain as a large wad of thick, bubbly saliva slapped onto his face. All the boys laughed and the bully fed on their attention, laughing loudly along with them. Samuel was hoping the worst was over, but the bully was not finished quite yet.

  ‘This will teach you,’ he hissed and began slamming his fists into Samuel’s face and body. Samuel yelled out with each blow until the bully tired of the task and climbed back off him.

  ‘Now, get up!’ the bully demanded, hands on his hips and waiting impatiently.

  Samuel staggered to his feet and looked to the older boy with fuzzy eyes and a buzzing head. His mouth was full of blood and his nose hurt terribly. The injury in his chest stung most of all, making his breathing painful and difficult.

  ‘That’s what happens to uninvited guests. If I see you again I’m gonna piss all over you!’ the bully stated with a grin and the others all hooted and laughed again. ‘Now get out of here and don’t be thinking you can join in our games, pig-boy!’

  Samuel limped away, clutching his face with one hand and his chest with the other. The crowd parted with disgust-ridden faces as he made his way through, but their scornful comments passed over him without effect.

  ‘What have you been doing, you little monster!’ his aunty cried out when she saw him stagger into the yard. ‘Where is my spice? What a truly useless and wicked boy you are!’ she said, and turned away aghast.

  Samuel ignored her ranting and shambled into the stable, pulling himself into his dusty stall and collapsing onto his cot. He cried out again as his chest burned under his weight and he had to carefully roll over onto his back where he lay for the remainder of the day. As darkness came, Jessicah appeared, shaking her head with worry.

  ‘Why are you always in such trouble, Samuel?’ she asked, setting down the tiny candle she carried. ‘I’ll begin to think that Mother is right about you.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ Samuel replied, wincing from the pain.

  ‘I’m only fooling you, Samuel,’ she said. He could see her smile in the faint, flickering light.

  She set about washing and cleaning Samuel’s face, humming softly to comfort him. She had a beautiful, soft voice, and she could sing like an angel when she wanted to. Samuel could barely carry a tune and was in awe of her whenever she broke into melody.

  When she was done cleaning him up, she went inside and brought his dinner out to him. He was famished and managed to wolf it all down, despite his pains. If it were not for J
essicah, Samuel would surely be utterly and totally lost.

  The town soon entered a period of heightened activity, with fairs and markets seemingly every second day. Samuel heard some talk of a Moon Harvest, but he was not in the mood for such things, preferring to see to his chores and keep away from other nonsense that could get him into trouble. All such things did was fill the streets with crowds and make his errands all the more difficult.

  He was just carrying his water buckets on one such busy street when a hand reached out from the crowd and grasped him by the shoulder.

  ‘Wait one moment, young man,’ the stranger said, stepping out to tower over him, and Samuel halted nervously. ‘I noticed your little scuffle in the square some time ago and I see you’re well back on your feet.’

  ‘Oh?’ Samuel began hesitantly, wondering whether or not to drop his buckets and run.

  ‘I was impressed with your footwork. You’re a quick little nipper. You just have to learn when to cut your losses and run. It’s not often wise to take on someone twice your size.’

  The man was neat and smart looking, a few years older than James. James is dead, he was forced to remind himself.

  ‘You know, I could use the services of a high-spirited scamp such as yourself. I have some errands that you could run for me-just when you have the spare time, mind you.’

  ‘I don’t often have spare time,’ Samuel informed him flatly.

  ‘Don’t be so eager to say no, young man.’ He then took a moment to look about the crowd before turning back to Samuel. ‘You wouldn’t want to miss out on a golden opportunity, would you, Samuel?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ Samuel replied with a shrug.

  The man smiled at this. ‘If you can find your way to letting me know each time a certain person stays at your inn, I’ll make it worth a half-crown to you. All you have to do is come to my office on your way to the markets and let me know. It wouldn’t take you any longer or cause you any trouble-and you would be making a healthy profit for your efforts.’

  ‘How do you know where I live?’ Samuel asked suspiciously.

  ‘It’s my job to know everything that goes on in this town. That’s how I make my living. That’s why I need your help.’

  That seemed fair enough. ‘Who is it, then?’ Samuel asked. ‘Who do you want me to watch for you?’ The thought of such a high reward for such a simple task was remarkable.

  ‘Do you know Mr Frost?’

  ‘Mr Frost?’ Samuel repeated. ‘He has a curly moustache and a big fat stomach. He speaks a bit funny.’

  ‘Yes, that’s him,’ the man confirmed with a smile. ‘What do you say? Do we have an agreement? It couldn’t cause any harm, could it? And we would both be on the receiving end of something useful.’

  ‘Very well,’ Samuel nodded. The fellow was right-how could it hurt?

  The man looked pleased and offered his hand. Samuel set his buckets down and quickly rubbed his own on his tattered shirt to clean it; then he shook the man’s firm hand vigorously.

  ‘You can call me Mr Joshua,’ he said. ‘I work upstairs in the building beside the Two Tigers Merchant-house. Do you know the one?’

  Samuel nodded. He could probably find it.

  ‘Very good,’ said the man and pressed a coin into Samuel’s palm. ‘I’ll expect to see you soon, then. Let me know when he comes and, of course,’ he added, touching his finger to his nose and winking, ‘this is just between you and me. Don’t let anyone else know about our little secret. I’ll explain everything to you eventually if our arrangement is successful but, for now, you’ll just need to trust me-just as I will trust you.’

  Samuel nodded and the man promptly continued on his way, leaving Samuel to pick up his heavy buckets and hurry back to the inn with glee. After pouring the last of the water, he went to his stall and hid his crown up on a shelf under an old container. It was the first money Samuel had ever had. It seemed too good to be true. For once, something exciting was happening to him.

  The day Mr Frost appeared atop his large stubborn mare, Samuel could scarcely wait to finish taking care of it and barely had the animal in its stall before he was off down the street to find Mr Joshua. He flew up the stairs and onto a balcony where several men were sitting idly about, rocking on the heels of their chairs with playing cards littering the floor between them. Their conversation halted abruptly as they spied Samuel bolt in.

  Samuel’s excitement vanished. The men had cold eyes that crawled over him and left him standing nervously.

  ‘What do you want?’ one of them then asked, but his voice was not as horrible as Samuel had first expected.

  ‘Mr Joshua?’ Samuel asked sheepishly.

  ‘Josh!’ one called out and Mr Joshua curtly appeared from a back room, looking somewhat harried and bothered. Upon spying Samuel, his frown changed to a look of jubilation.

  ‘Ah, my boy!’ he called, moving to Samuel and patting him warmly on the shoulder. The men stopped watching him and one began scraping up the cards at their feet. ‘How have you been? I didn’t expect to see you so soon!’

  ‘Ah…very well thank you, Sir,’ Samuel stammered. ‘I just thought I would let you know that…’

  ‘Ah, good, good!’ Mr Joshua interrupted. ‘How happy I am to see you! But, unfortunately, I don’t have time to chit-chat just now. Now, next time you visit me, why don’t you to bring me some of that nice jam from the market?’ And he pressed a couple of coins into Samuel’s palms.

  ‘Um…which jam, Mr Joshua?’

  ‘Any jam will do-your favourite. Now be off with you until next time. Go on!’

  Samuel left, bewildered, as he made down the stairs. He examined his hand to find one and a half crowns. Happy at his growing fortune, Samuel skipped down the last few stairs and trotted back home, rattling the coins within his fist as a long line of brightly garbed soldiers went marching by.

  The months passed by and winter soon came and left again and the seasons seemed to flit by before Samuel could even notice them. Sometimes, as he lay in the dark, cold or tired or aching in his muscles, Samuel wondered if he would spend his whole life there in the stables of the Three Toads Inn. Resolutely, he decided that with all the money he had been saving from Mr Joshua, he would eventually be able to go out and find his fortune. He had managed to gather quite a tidy sum, for he had never spent even a single coin, except for the one time he bought a tiny handkerchief for Jessicah.

  She had remarked upon it in the market and had been overjoyed when Samuel had given it to her. She had carried it ever since, keeping it tucked tightly in her pocket.

  The following winter was a quiet time at the Three Toads Inn and so, on the odd pleasant day, Samuel and Jessicah would go walking down by the river and play in the fields on the other side. Upstream, the river was shallow and swift and it was wonderful fun trying to get across the smooth, round stones without falling upon their backsides and getting wet. It was on one such day as this that Samuel and Jessicah returned home to find a very angry uncle, indeed. He came striding outside when he saw them approach and had a long, thin rod in his hand. Jessicah squeezed Samuel’s hand and they walked in bravely.

  ‘You filthy dog!’ the big man roared, directing his fury at Samuel. ‘Get inside, Jessicah!’ he commanded. She gave Samuel a desperate glance before hurrying away inside. Samuel did not mind. He was used to the tempers of his uncle and aunt and preferred that Jessicah was not there to witness it. ‘Thief! What have you been stealing of mine?’

  ‘Nothing, Uncle,’ Samuel stammered, wandering what was the root of the man’s fury this time.

  ‘Don’t lie to me! Where did you get all that money? Such a fortune for a brat like you. Where did you get it?’

  Samuel’s heart seemed to stop in place as he realised his savings had been found and, undoubtedly, plundered. ‘I’ve been doing some work for a man in the marketplace,’ Samuel tried to explain.

  ‘Rubbish!’ his uncle spat, bright red in the face. ‘No one would pay a fool like you for anyt
hing, and I’ve told you before not to loiter in the streets with my daughter! I’ve had it up to here with you,’ and he gestured to his neck to illustrate. He stood silent for a moment, as if trying to calm himself, before spinning about and stomping away. Samuel did not know what to do. He was filled with anger and disbelief. He knew his uncle well and knew he would never see his money again. He damned himself for not hiding it better. A pain at his sides made Samuel realise he was squeezing his hands into fists and he had to deliberately force them to relax. This time he was not sad. He was filled with pure rage and wished he could strike his uncle dead. Without a word, he ran back out into the street.

  ‘Samuel?’ Mr Joshua said, when he spied the boy waiting at his door. ‘What brings you here today-and looking so bothered?’

  Samuel edged inside Mr Joshua’s office and stood by the tall man’s desk.

  ‘Come on. Open your mouth,’ Mr Joshua urged him.

  ‘My uncle found all my money and now he’s taken it,’ Samuel explained. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

  Mr Joshua looked very thoughtful. ‘Don’t worry, lad,’ and he scruffed up Samuel’s hair playfully. ‘Difficulties like this are what life is all about. You can’t let them get you down.’ He then reached into his pocket and plonked a couple of coins on the desk before Samuel. ‘I’ve grown quite fond of you, Samuel. I know about your uncle and aunt and they aren’t the sort of people that should be responsible for good children such as you. You’ve been working reliably for me all this time. Take this money.’ And he pushed it towards Samuel. ‘I know it’s small compared to what you’ve lost, but consider it a gift of goodwill to help you through the hard times, or a bonus for all your good work if you prefer. You’re still a little young, but perhaps after a few years you can strike out on your own. For now, it’s best if you go back to your uncle’s inn and stay there. I know you don’t like it, but you don’t really have much choice. You can save up a little money again and bide your time and, before you know it, you’ll have a fat purse under your pillow once more and a little house of your own. How does that sound?’