Thorn eyed the box, then the young man, whose eagerness had always appeared so tightly contained within his boxy, short frame and features.
From what little Malek had shared over the years, he was an orphan, who’d stowed away, then worked on a variety of shipsand conveyances from his native Morocco all the way to Cape Horn, before arriving in, then wandering southern England for a time, doing odd jobs. Thorn had found him in Ipswich when he was about fourteen or so, seen his sharpness and hard-working nature, and, seeking an apprentice, asked him what he thought of such a profession. Malek had said he rather liked the idea, and wanted something more stable than a life at sea, and so, Thorn had taken him on. Beyond those few details, Thorn knew little of the lad, not for lack of asking in the first few years, but Malek found as much use in sharing and dwelling in the past as Thorn did, and so he’d let it lie about three years into their acquaintance—some five years ago now.
And now, at the end of our acquaintance in all likelihood, is not the time to ask.
‘You keep them,’ Thorn said, only realising the inanity of having asked Malek to help him collect all he had then. ‘You remained an apprentice past the years you should’ve only because you wished to. Now…this is all yours.’
‘But they’re your father’s.’
‘They were. And they were mine, and I am leaving the trade, so now they’re yours.’
He didn’t say that Malek was probably the closest he’d ever come to having a child, to passing on the legacy which had been passed to him, but perhaps it was in his voice, for Malek stared at him with wide misty eyes, before nodding solemnly.
‘Thank you.’
‘Just put them to good use.’
Malek nodded, then turned and set the crate down on a work bench.
‘Is there nothing you’ll take then?’
‘No… I don’t think there is,’ Thorn said on a half-chuckle, half-sigh, looking around the dusky forge. ‘I’ve taken my clothes and papers from the cottage, beyond that… I suppose there’snothing I’ll be needing. Even the clothes, I take them only for I’ve nothing else.’
Much like my wife. What a pair we make—
‘So it’s true then. You’re leaving for good,’ said another voice, and both Thorn and Malek turned to the open doors on their left, in the midst of which stood Thorn’s former best friend, Frank; as ever the opposite to Thorn, dark where the latter was fair, short and lean where Thorn was tall and thick.
Water, powerful, treacherous, and sly to Thorn’s stone; determined, patient, and unyielding.
‘I’ll um…go do something,’ Malek muttered, almost inaudibly and Thorn might’ve laughed had he not been so busy clenching his teeth.
And fists, and every muscle and possible limb in his body.
He’d thought, somehow, it might have lessened, the wound. But then, it had been quite a while since he’d had to face either Frank, or his former sweetheart, Helen, who’d left him for theenterprisingandambitiousFrank when he’d set off on his ventures of trade and speculation, both finding a poor, simple, life in the country stifling. In the end, they hadn’t made it very far in the past couple years; however, that was neither here nor there.
It wasn’t that Thorn begrudged either of them their ambitions, their desire for a life beyond the one they’d lived and shared here for so long; it was the betrayal, really, that he had difficulty forgiving. It was the fact that Thorn had had to discover themin flagrante delictobefore either of them deigned to inform him that the future they’d all imagined living together would never come to pass. That friendships and relationships were broken, and that that was that.
And perhaps what smarted most was that Thorn had been content with his own life, aspirations, and future, until he’d allowed their discarding of him in the name ofmore, to makehim feel as though he weren’t enough. That he too should want and aspire to more than merely agoodlife, which he hadn’t ever really, not even when he’d been bestowed a title, and been raised up in the world. It was that wound which had perhaps festered most of all since everything had shattered two or so years ago. That wound which made forgiveness difficult, and which had meant Thorn’s change in circumstance had had one great silver lining: that he would not be forced to spy Frank and Helen as often as he might’ve dwelling here for the remainder of his days; a prospect he’d not ever relished.
Though, in fairness to his character, he’d not even once thought of his raising to an earldom as sweet revenge; wondered if Helen regretted her choice after hearing the news, so perhaps there was a measure of forgiveness in his heart after all.
‘What are you doing here, Frank?’ Thorn asked, sighing, hoping it might release some of the tension inside him, which it did, for a few seconds; until Frank dared to step in further.
Thorn glared at him and Frank nodded sadly.
‘Heard you were back. I thought… I hate how we left things, Thorn. We were brothers once, and—’
‘Your choices led us here, Frank. Yours and Helen’s. You were both content for the past years to leave things as they were, and now you wish me to believe there is nothing more driving your need for reparation?’
‘If you’re implying I’m here because of anything beyond profound regret,my lord, then you’re sorely mistaken. I’ve not been content these past years, and I know it is my fault things ended so grievously, however, yes, now that you are leaving, and I’ve no idea when I might see you again, I thought I might chance repairing our bond to some degree.’ Thorn sighed, shaking his head, and turning away to stare at everything and nothing. ‘Will you at least accept my congratulations on your marriage?Believe me when I say I wish you and your new wife a wonderful life, and I was glad to see you’d found such joy so quickly?’
For a split second, Thorn considered admitting the truth: that contrary toJack the Cat’sfantastical and ill-advised wishes—and why the man continued to be so interested in his life was baffling and disturbing to say the least—it was in fact necessity,desperation, and not love which had seen him married. That had he the choice, he likely never would have married; after all, he’d had his reservations before the betrayal, but after, the idea of committing to another who might show they had no loyalty or love until it was too late, held no appeal whatsoever. He considered telling Frank that though in future there might be some measure of joy to be found in his life, for now, he couldn’t truly say he had such stuff in his heart.
However, such confessions would be too close to something friends might say, to seek advice or blessings, and as they weren’t friends, he wouldn’t say anything such; he would merely say whatever might get Frank out of his life for good, so he could be back on his merry way, to his aforementioned wife.
‘Thank you,’ Thorn said, only half begrudgingly. ‘I would offer you congratulations as well, however as I’ve heard it, you and Helen remain unmarried.’
Though I don’t care.
