+JMJ+
Diary of a Sailor Prince
Part Three
Fifth Day
of the Colored Leaves
It has
been many weeks since I fell ill. I have been cared for by these
really poor woodcutters. The Grimes family. Father Grimes is
ill-tempered, lazy and likes to drink. Mother Grimes is ill-tempered,
whining, and likes to smack people. Hank Grimes is the laziest of the
bunch, he is also ill-tempered, and never does any work. The younger
son, Caleb, likes to read, study, hates work, but is very mild
tempered, especially compared to the others. These people are so
generous. They would except no money for my care. But they encouraged
me to do all the work.
Farewell
dear,
Me
Ninth
Day of the Colored Leaves
No one
knows what work is until they have had to rise before the sun, chop
wood, light the fire, make porridge, cook porridge, search porridge,
clean up from breakfast, wash dishes, put away dishes, feed cow and
donkey, carry water from the stream, two miles up a mountain, for cow
and donkey, dig potatoes, dig turnips, dig other stinky roots, carry
water from the stream, two miles up a mountain, to splash over other
garden items, carry water from stream, two miles up a mountain, to
refill rain barrel, about five trips, then make another meal, serve
and clean it up. That is what it is like to work. For real. Tomorrow,
I am told that I will be selling turnips and potatoes in a market
square like a common serf. I think I have well repaid the wretched
woodcutters for their meager kindness.
Goodbye
for now,
Me
Tenth
Day of the Colored Leaves
The sun
had not even begun to rise when Hank, Caleb and myself set out for
the market square. I may have been leading the donkey and hauling a
large pack upon my own stiff back, but I had no intention of leading
or hauling anything back to the Grimes cottage. It was not that I
expected to sell everything, but I fully planned on never returning
to the horrid Grimes establishment if I died in the process. Caleb
was reading a book. How he managed to stay on his feet, yet never
look at the steep mountainous trail is beyond me. But he accomplished
this feat with ease and grace. Hank, on the other hand, tripped over
every twig and stone in the trail. He was soon a mess of bruises and
scrapes. He took great pleasure in beating me for his own clumsiness.
I shuddered at how clumsy he would be if he could not see the trail
at all.
We had
been walking for hours and the sun was already high in the sky, when
our silent walk was interrupted. This time it was not a fall from
Hank or the donkey being obstinate. It was a surly young woman in a
white tight fitting gown. Her golden blond hair was twisted about her
head with flowers. In her long slender white fingers she clenched a
bow. A iron shod arrow was pointing at us. I gulped. Surely this very
white apparition was a ghost. For even her bow and arrows were white.
The gold in her hair was the only color available that I could see.
Hank promptly tripped over his own feet and fell sprawling in an
inelegant way.
“Your
highness do move, please.” Caleb said, as he turned a page in his
book, but never even looked up at the ghostly lady. She was a
princess. I gaped at her open mouthed. She turned her pale face on me
and scowled nastily. I looked her straight in the eye. I detest
princesses. So stupid. This one was more sour and contrary looking
then any princess I had ever that the bad luck to be acquainted with.
“Woodsman
Hank, I believe you have acquired an extra member in your caravan.”
the princess said haughtily. Shivers ran down my back. Her voice was
sounded sharp and cold, but I could imagine that if softened it would
be sweet and a singing enchanting. I nearly slapped myself. How could
I be falling out of focus over a stupid princess? Hank bowed down
almost to the ground.
“Oh
worshipful princess, crown jewel of our lovely Ashtaran, beauteous of
all beautiful creatures,” Hank whined, “This is my simple minded
little brother Boots.” I said nothing. I was eying the princess's
pale skin and wondering how she was not browned by the sun. The
princess tossed her golden head.
“My
father would laugh that another fool boy has seen my presence and yet
failed to make me so much as smile.” she said icily. She fired the
arrow. I felt a cold rush of wind and my hair parted as the iron
arrow flew over my head, narrowly missing my scalp. The princess then
proceeded to push rudely past me in the general direction her arrow
had taken.
“
Princess Anastasia does not seem to be fond of you, little Boots.”
Caleb said, as he turned another page.
“She
detests princes and hates common men worse!” Hank grumbled. We then
proceeded down to the market. But my mind was on Anastasia. Did she
truly never laugh?
All for
now,
Me
Hank and Caleb Grimes. Princess Anastasia
(Supporting cast from part 3)
God Bless You all,
