Chapter Three
"Alentio was a farming community,
always had been a farming community,
and always would be a farming community.
As the source of all major exports to other states,
it was easier to be peaceful with them than lose all food resources …"
--The Pasegean Scrolls
Jareth Caverton was sitting underneath his favourite fir tree, reading Jean Baudet’s ‘Calypso’, just outside Alentio’s city gates when he heard the sound of hooves on the cobblestones at the other end of the town.
Curiously, Jareth stood and peered down the short main road of his hometown. A long parade of horses with armoured men atop them, and more of the same armoured men on the ground were marching through the small village. Jareth grinned as he saw several other farmers leave their harvests so to watch this peculiar spectacle which Jareth guessed to be an army.
One of those on top of the horses cried out to one of the farmers. He was not wearing armour like the others, but a hooded cape of purple velvet. "Strange," thought Jareth. "I thought purple was a royal colour. But then, everything I know comes straight from books. And that’s just other people’s interpretations, anyway. I’m never going to get away from this place and experience things for myself!"
Jareth decided to focus more on what the person was saying instead of his own thoughts. He was surprised when he realised that the speaker was female. She had flung the hood off of her head, and Jareth stared at her mystified.
She certainly was different from all the farm girls in Alentio. Her dark, copper-red hair flowed from her head like silk, then settled upon her shoulders. She was wearing a navy blue riding dress, which looked regal. "Please don’t be a princess," his thoughts pleaded. "Then there’d be no hope at all! But then, who else could someone as beautiful as that be?"
She felt his eyes upon her, and looked at him, peeking around the wall of the village, ear-length brown hair unruly and blue eyes sparkling in the sun. She smiled at the boy, and he blushed. She could tell that he was astounded by her being there; his blush had told her that. She continued her conversation with the head farmer.
"Mr. Jarston, I do realise that there would be no room whatsoever for all of my troops in your town. All I wish for is to buy supplies from you, and ask directions to Port Alentio."
The old man responded gruffly, "I don’t know who you are, or what you’re doing here, but I tell you, there’s no room!" Catrin tried to interrupt, but he wouldn’t listen. "And I know for a fact that you must be mercenaries because of two reasons. Number one is that Chail isn’t attacking Syriana, we would have heard if it was …"
"And number two?" Catrin was not going to get herself flustered over this man’s insistence that he was right. He looked at her curtly.
"I was just getting to that. Stop interrupting me!" Catrin stayed quiet as he continued on. "Number two is that the head of the Tusheban army is Baronet Conner of Tusheba himself!" He looked at her triumphantly, but she was to have the last laugh.
More hooves were heard on the cobblestones, and tall man (also clothed in a purple cloak) rode up beside them. "Somebody call my name?" he said jokingly, deep blue eyes twinkling in the glary afternoon sun. He ran a hand through his sandy coloured hair as Mr. Jarston looked on bewilderedly. He soon recovered and was full to the brim with apologies.
"Terribly sorry, your worship. I did not recognise the … the colours of your city-state." Jareth laughed at the stupidity in his apology. This focused everyone’s attention towards him. Again he went red with embarrassment as his father walked over to him and began to scold him.
"What do you think you’re doing, Jareth? Its harvest time and I need you in the fields! And what are you doing here––reading? What’s the use of that?" Jareth tried to explain to his father about wanting to go away, but he was shushed at once. He looked away as his father yelled again. "I’m sick of you talking about going away some place. You’re to stay here and that’s final!"
Rage began to rise in Jareth, and he turned back towards his father. "Why? Why must I stay here? Not everyone wants to be as boring as you!"
As the slap echoed through the silent town, Jareth walked away into the forest, his flushed face made redder by the hand that was imprinted there. He turned and looked once more at Catrin, then ran into the undergrowth. Catrin watched him until he was no longer visible.
Catrin and Conner took their supplies and said that they would camp further along down the road. Jarston agreed and soon they were away down the well-used route to Port Alentio, which would take them around two days to reach. Catrin turned to Conner as they were riding, as they began to talk of the upcoming journey. However, the subject soon turned to that of Jareth.
"Why on earth would his father hit his son like that, just for reading and not wanting to become a farmer; just because he wanted more from life?" Conner would never understand how things worked in a small community as such.
Catrin smiled at Conner’s confused looking face. "It really isn’t hard to understand … for me. But you are a Baronet, so I will explain it to you. Basically, everyone in these farming hamlets follows in the footsteps of their parents. Marry a nice girl or boy, work on the farm, have children… it’s a sort of ‘circle of life’. However, since this boy went against his father, and said that he didn’t want to be a farmer, it was an insult." Conner nodded, finally realising the complexity of the situation.
As they rode on, silently pondering the trip ahead, Catrin noticed a small book lying on the ground. "Conner, go on ahead and set up camp. This looks like the book that boy was holding—I’ll take it back to the village right away." Conner nodded, and clicked to his horse. Catrin dismounted and picked up the book. "Calypso!" she thought eagerly. "I remember father reading this to me when I was younger––before the war, anyway."
She placed the book carefully inside her saddle-bag. Then, realising that the horse was too big to re-mount it by herself, she almost kicked herself. "Now I’ll have to walk the whole way back there! Curse the man who invented the side-saddle!" She took the reins and began to lead the horse back the way she had came.
After about an hour, her nerves were on edge. The whole time she had been walking back to Alentio, bushes had been rustling, sticks had been snapping, and it was nearing twilight. "I hope there’s sign of the town soon––I certainly don’t want to spend a night out here in the wilderness, thinking that I’m being followed. If I hear one more snap, I am going to scream."
As if he could read her thoughts, the man moved quietly behind Catrin as she walked along. He reached out with one hand, and it hovered over her shoulder. "Am I doing the right thing?" he thought, then shook his head. "Of course I am! If I wasn’t, would I even think about it?" Without another thought, he clamped his hand down on her shoulder.
Catrin gave a blood-curdling scream as she turned, and saw the man standing there, face overshadowed in the dusky twilight.
Several miles away, at camp, Conner heard the scream, and recognised it as Catrin’s. He ran to his horse, and shoved his feet into the stirrup. He wasn’t wasting any time when Catrin’s life might be at stake. Pulling his body over the horse, he slid his other foot into place then galloped off to Catrin’s aid.
Jareth shushed Catrin’s scream, and as she saw his face, she began to laugh. "You? And I thought it was a brigand or something!" Jareth laughed as well, and then she remembered the book. She pulled it from her saddle-bag, and pressed it into his hands. "Is this yours?"
Jareth was surprised, to say the least. "My book! I thought I’d lost it! Thankyou, um …" Catrin laughed again.
"My name is Catrin, and you’re quite welcome. And you’re Jareth, right?"
"Yes! I can’t believe that you know my name! How … ?"
"Your father said your name when he yelled at you––remember?"
Looking at his feet, Jareth replied, "Yes––unfortunately."
At this moment, Conner came around the long bend. He slowed, hearing voices. He knew that it would not help Catrin if he too was robbed. Dismounting, he wondered why he recognised both voices. Then he saw them. Jareth and Catrin, talking, laughing. Saddened, he turned away. "Of course she’d prefer someone of her own status to me. I’m a Baronet, with duties and responsibilities. Curse this world for making me this way!"
Conner did not want to intrude on their little scene, so he left them alone. He rode back to camp, lonely but learning that what everyone said was right: Love hurts.
"All I don’t understand is this: Why don’t you want to become a farmer?" Catrin asked Jareth for the millionth time, hoping that this time it would produce an answer.
He sighed, and decided that she wouldn’t stop asking until he told her. "I don’t really know why––at least not exactly. The only thing I know for sure is that everything that I’ve ever read in books I want to experience myself. I want to travel to places like Januli and Sonaro and Capurna! I want to be on a battlefield, like in ‘Glorified’! I want to journey across the land to fight evil for my city-state like in ‘Calypso’! I want to …" Jareth put his head in his hands and began to cry. "I want to leave this place, once and for all."
Catrin suddenly had a wild idea. "Come with us then, Jareth! That way, three of your dreams might come true." He looked at Catrin disbelievingly
"Where are you headed?"
"Capurna. And we are an army, ready and willing to fight evil so to save the city-states."
Hope filled Jareth’s eyes. "Could I?" Catrin nodded. "Sweet Elanora, thankyou!" Jareth grabbed Catrin’s hand and pulled her to her feet. "Let’s dance!" he cried wildly. Catrin giggled as they began to dance, and night fell all around them. Yet there was a strange pain in her heart that she had been gone so long, yet Conner did not seem to care. Pushing her thoughts aside, Catrin enjoyed the dance, and then lead Jareth back to camp.
Copyright 2000 M. Lees
