Ch. 13 - The Dinner

"You're doing it wrong."

“I’m doing exactly what you told me to do.”

“I didn’t tell you to do what you’re doing.”

“You told me to wrap the man’s wrist, and if my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me, I happen to be wrapping the man’s wrist.”

“I told you to moisten the cloth, wipe the blood off of the man’s arm, dampen the bandage, smear herbs on the binding, and then wrap the man’s wrist. You’re a terrible listener,” Andrew said.

“You’re a terrible direction-giver,” Benji replied. He blinked, staring at the bandage he had incorrectly applied to a bleeding wrist. Turning to Andrew with a vacant face, he asked, “What did you say?”

Andrew shook his head with a smirk, leaned over Benji, and fixed the binding. The poor, shy man whose wrist was broken and bleeding could only watch the two boys, trying to figure out if he should request a different healer. It was later in the day. The sun was already down, outside, and the streets were turning cold. The infirmary was slightly emptier than it had been. Those with able legs were quick to leave the dreary interior of the building. A few healers still bustled about tending to the few patients left in the building.

“The moon will soon be up,” a voice reported, from behind the young men.

Andrew didn’t turn to acknowledge Jessica’s voice. The young woman peeked over his shoulder. “The binding’s applied wrong.”

Andrew and Benji exchanged humored expressions. Jessica peered at the grinning boys, wondering what had provoked such behavior. There was nothing funny about a broken wrist. She told them dinner would be starting soon, and they made sure there were enough willing hands to tend to the rest of the patients before leaving the old infirmary. They walked their way towards the tower of the new safe house. The streets were nearly empty now. The cold air made them shiver, but thankfully it wasn’t a long walk from the hospital to the tower.

Standing before the tower door, Jessica and Andrew moved to block Benji from reaching out to clasp the door handle.

“What?” Benji asked, his expression one that Jessica imagined she would find on a child deprived of a shiny, new toy.

“You realize that once you pass through the door, you can never go back?” Andrew asked.

Benji shoved his hands in his pockets. “I had assumed that ever since we entered the city. I don’t want to go back. The best way to fight my father is here…not from inside the castle.” He grinned. “Not that you could get rid of me if you wanted to.”

Jessica was as solemn as she could be. She got the impression he wasn’t taking this seriously enough. “And you know and accept that if you enter this building, you’re legitimately part of the resistance? You’re no longer the son of king Darfane; you’re an official member of the resistance, and we’ll expect you to act as such.”

Benji shrugged and shifted his weight impatiently. “I suppose. I can’t go back now, can I? Seeing as I know all your secrets and the like?”

“And if you reveal any of them, ever, we’ll hunt you down and torture you until you can’t feel your flesh aching anymore,” Andrew added.

Benji grinned. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that day very much seeing as you hate my guts and my guts can’t die.”

“I’ve been looking forward to that day since I met you,” Andrew admitted, grinning.

Benji reached out a hand for the doorknob.

Jessica grasped his arm, looking the prince straight in the eye. “One more thing. You can’t tell anyone that you’re the king’s son.”

“I had assumed so,” Benji said.

“People in the town aren’t exactly all for your father-”

“Understandable.”

“And there’s no telling how they’ll react if you tell them.”

“Of course.” Jessica released Benji’s arm and sighed. Benji gave her a wide grin. Andrew and Jessica rolled their eyes and stepped away from the door. The door opened with a creak and they walked through the doorway into the safe house.

“That’s it?” Benji asked. They were crammed in a small, dim room containing a table, two broken chairs, and a door at the far side of the wall. The walls were made of wooden beams, and tiny rifts in the walls let in slivers of dying light, illuminating a plain, dirty ground.

Andrew dropped to his knees and began patting the wooden floor. A few seconds later, his hands stopped on top of a small object connected to the ground. He cast a satisfied look back at his friends before wrenching open a trapdoor and hurrying inside.

Benji didn’t need Jessica to tell him that he was next. The prince disappeared through the hole without a word to her. Jessica cast one last look around the dingy room before following the two boys, pulling the door closed behind her. She found herself standing in a large hallway at the end of which resided a pair of large double-doors with brass handles. Doors lined each side of the hall, painted different colors with different numbers and words decorating their exteriors.

Jessica eagerly followed the boys down the hall toward the great room. Andrew arrived there first, and he threw the doors open wide. Noise blasted out, and firelight nearly blinded them. The sound of mugs hitting tabletops, and plates being set down echoed in the large room before them. Three long tables ran the distance of the room, laden with food and plates. Men, women, and children sat around the tables conversing and jesting and eating.

Almost immediately, Jessica and Andrew were bombarded with a few little girls who had more questions than they did teeth. The children grabbed their hands and led them over to a table, a small girl no older than six taking Benji’s hand shyly and asking him to sit by her. Plates were set before them by grinning faces, some familiar, and some not. It took a moment for Benji to soak in all that was going on.

The smell of something spicy yet tangy reached his nostrils, and a platter of steaming meat was set before him. He eagerly grabbed a few slices and began to devour them. They had been eating nothing but apples, bread, and a few grapes for the past four days. It was nice to have a real meal. Or as close to a real meal as they could get. There were only two plates of meat per table, one loaf of bread, and two bowls of fruit. The prince didn’t notice the fact that the portions were meager, nor did the Jessica and Andrew think it odd, for they had been given slim servings all their lives. They were simply happy to have hot food before them. They grinned at each other as they watched the prince eating.

“Are you enjoying your food?” Andrew asked through a bite of bread.

Benji nodded. “Yes! I don’t remember anything tasting this wonderful! Ever! Not even—” he trailed off, noting the attentive little ears around him. He cautiously continued, “Not even where I came from before.”

Jessica swallowed a mouthful of cordial and stroked her chin as if deep in thought. “You know, Andy,” she said, turning to him as if to discuss something as trivial as the weather. “I never thought Benji would find such satisfaction eating pig ears.”

Benji adopted his usual smug face. Unscathed, he replied quickly, “Of course I would; I eat all kinds of things.”

Andrew lifted an eyebrow. “Cow tongue?”

“I used to eat that for breakfast.”

“Horse tail?”

“Consider it a delicacy.”

“Fish eyes?”

“Every night with a glass of milk.”

“Newt liver.”

“I once had five in a row.”

Jessica jumped in with the question, “Dried Ogre kidney and Troll feet covered with steamed snail entrails?”

Benji gave her a stunned look. He seemed to be faltering for an answer to her unexpected contribution. Andrew’s face quickly turned into one of amusement. Jessica giggled. Benji gave her a sheepish look, but he couldn’t help chuckling. Soon, even the little girls sitting next to them were howling with laughter.

They enjoyed the rest of their meal, eating heartily and happily. No one asked where the meat really came from. In hard-pressed times, they took advantage of every opportunity where meat presented itself. Especially after battles.

A few minutes into their dinner, and after several people had introduced themselves to the trio, Andrew elbowed Jessica and pointed across the room. Benji sat across from them, unable to see what they had spotted. The six-year-old girl sitting next to him yanked on his sleeve. Benji’s eyebrows rose as she gestured behind him.

“There’s the Dane,” the girl whispered, her eyes riveted on the man she saw pacing down the aisle between two tables. Curious, Benji turned around on his wooden bench to stare at the man they called “The Dane”.

The Dane was tall, and lean, with thick arms nearly hidden by a large, leather jacket. He looked to be no more than twenty-five, and he greeted those around him with youthful energy, laughing and talking with everyone sitting around the tables. His broad, muscled chest was covered by a loose, brown shirt a few hues lighter than the trousers he wore. Tousled locks of dark hair fell almost below his jaw, and the hint of a beard beginning to grow shaded his chin. He was almost hard to see clearly because he was moving so quickly and turning one way and then the other in an effort to converse with everyone around him.

“He talks to you?” Benji asked.

Andrew turned from scrutinizing the man. “Yes...”

Jessica studied Benji’s face before commenting, “We believe a leader should be equal with the people they lead. No one likes a distant superior.” “Like your father,” she thought to herself.

The little girl beside Benji glanced up into the prince’s face. “Are you new?” she asked, eyes shining with curiosity.

“Uh…yes, you could say that,” Benji replied.

“What’s your name?”

“Penelope.”

The girl giggled. “No it’s not,” she insisted childishly.

“You’re right; I lied. It’s Benji. What’s yours?”

“Ting,” she said, smiling underneath wide, brown eyes.

“What is it you like to do, Ting?” Benji asked.

“I like to dance…and I can fight good. And sing. I like to sing.”

“What songs do you like to sing-sing, Ting-Ting?” he asked.

She giggled again. Jessica stared at the prince as he talked to the child. She couldn’t keep a smile from trickling onto her face. She watched him make a bead from the child’s necklace disappear and then pull it out of her ear. The child was immensely delighted at this, and giggled unceasingly for several minutes.

“That’s an interesting trick,” commented a voice. Jessica whirled around to find the Dane looming over them. “Welcome back,” he said to them, cheerfully. Two brown eyes danced in his square face. A firm chin poked out from underneath a broad, white smile. Jessica smiled and watched Andrew stand up and clap hands with the man. This was their leader. Strong. Brave. The Dane’s eyes roamed over Benji’s features. They were deep, dark eyes. Experienced. Knowing. Wise.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, extending a large hand decorated with a few thick rings to Benji.

“Hello – I’m Benji.”

“The Dane.” They shook hands. “A new recruit, I assume?”

Jessica nodded.

The Dane’s eyes averted back to his loyal agents. “I trust he’s a sturdy fighter with a sharp mind?”

“Sturdy fighter, yes,” Jessica said, glancing at Benji, who had assumed an interested expression. “As for his mind…well, we all have our weaknesses.”

Benji’s eyes narrowed, but not threateningly. “What do you know of sharp minds? Your own is as sharp as the curve of a wagon wheel.”

Without blinking, Jessica shot back, “If that is true, than at least my wheel is still turning; yours is broken and doubtlessly stuck.”

The Dane let out a deep laugh, his white teeth contrasting well against his tan skin. “Oh, Jess, it’s good to have you back.” He leaned down to Benji, who was gaping at Jessica, and whispered, “Take no offense – mental jousting is just as important as sparring with swords, and this young maiden has had many opportunities to practice.”

Straightening, he said louder, “I didn’t expect you two here; I thought you were back in Tosh carrying out an assignment. Brooke and I got called on a meeting short-notice, or else we would have met you when you arrived back - what brings you to Darwol?”

Jessica swallowed. Andrew slowly rose from the bench. Suddenly Jessica felt sick to her stomach. The faces of her dead friends and the dead city rose, unbidden, in her mind. “Brooke didn’t tell you?”

The man’s jovial expression faded. “I haven’t seen Brooke since the battle…”

Neither three of the youths spoke. The Dane waited expectantly, sobering with each passing second.

Andrew’s soft response broke the silence that had slowly settled over the great hall. Everyone on every table was looking at them. “Soldiers. Tosh…is…dead.”

Jessica’s eyes closed. She could feel the sadness building in her chest. She fought it, focusing all her energy on breathing. Andrew’s eyes averted to the ground. Benji lowered his head respectfully, his gaze on the table in front of him. He was expecting for the people to burst into tears, or for a wailing to rise from the heart of the room.

No sound reached his ears. No one cried. Even the girl beside him stared numbly at Andrew. The Dane stared at the ground for a moment, not saying a word. His brow creased in concentration and his hands froze in a clenched position.

There was a flurry of motion that Benji saw from the corner of his eye. Brooke opened the door and began to walk in. Instantly aware of the pressing stillness, she paused and looked around. Spotting the Dane, she strode over to him confidently. Her arms wound their way around him in a tight embrace.

He raised his head and Brooke released him. He scooped up a lit candle from the nearest table and lifted it high, for all to see.

“Friends,” he addressed them, in a deep voice. He wasn’t shouting. He wasn’t whispering. His voice had reached an octave that seemed to rumble, though it was soft. The people sitting at tables all wordlessly took the candles lighting the room and lifted them. The girl next to Benji looked at him expectantly. He grabbed a candle and she placed her small hand over his; she was too young to handle flame by herself.

“Tonight we have seen the beginning of dark times yet to come…the creatures we have seen are many, and growing. The people we have lost were brave, and few. But the war is not over.” The firelight cast a vivid array of light and shadow across the Dane’s face and the sober crowd seated around him like a flock of sullen ghosts. “We will fight on.” Determination spread from his heart to his voice. “We will fight on for the ones we have left behind. We will fight on for those who cannot fight for themselves. We will fight because we have something worth fighting for.”

“Friends,” he turned around, making eye contact with as many people as he could. “Do not forget those who have died today, or the day before, or many days ago. They are the reason we fight on tomorrow.” He raised his candle higher. “For the brave men and women who gave their lives at Tosh.”

A few murmurs echoed about the room, whispered words of regret, or agreement, or pain. Then, as one and following the Dane’s lead, they all lowered their candles and blew them out. They were cast into complete darkness. Jessica wondered if this was how Melody had felt…if this was like dying. Complete stillness, and darkness, and silence.