The Alchemist's Other Apprentice
Chapter V
In which Stephen Springs Peter
and Buys him Breakfast
Peter sat quietly on the narrow wooden bench. He didn’t want to be quiet. He wanted to rage and scream. He wanted to pound his head on the stone wall and kick his own butt with his ragged shoes. He wanted to... He wanted... He didn’t know what he wanted. He wanted to not be so stupid. How could he have done that? He wasn’t starving and he had already decided that he wasn’t going to try to steal anything even if he did starve. He didn’t really need shoes either, sure his were in bad shape, but there would have been plenty of time to get new ones. So, why had he done it? Why had he taken such an irresponsible chance and risked his freedom, his hope and his future?
He knew why of course, it was just so stupid it was painful to admit. It was because he had gotten mad at that obnoxious old man. He had let one moment of rage change his whole future. How could he be so stupid?
He looked around at the stone walls of the little holding cell. This time he had really done it. This time he wasn’t just being sent back to the beginning to start over. This time he was being moved directly to the end of the line. This time he might never get a chance to start again. This time he was in jail. The real jail. The one with murderers and criminals. People convicted to life sentences. People died here and never saw daylight again. How could he have been so stupid.
When that grinning idiot Melvin had tackled him and held him for the City Guards he knew he was in big trouble but he had no idea it would come to this. He had been taken to a guard post near the city gates and tied there while a messenger went to the farm that Peter had run away from three days ago, asking the farmer to come into town and pick up the boy. It seemed like only a very short time before the messenger returned saying that the farmer wanted nothing to do with the young trouble maker. The farmer had replaced Peter with a younger and more dependable boy from the orphanage as soon as he had found Peter missing.
Next he was taken by an obviously inconvenienced guardsman back to the city orphanage where he received his second shock. They wouldn’t take him back either. Peter hadn’t known that that was a possibility. He had thought that the orphanage had to take everyone his age back no matter what. “That's a common misconception,” his guard said sarcastically as he turned on his heel, dragging Peter along by his tied hands, and took him directly to the City Jail.
And now here he sat in a holding cell with two unconscious drunks, realizing that the dangers of his little quest for personal freedom were much worse than he had previously imagined. Peter stood up and kicked the wall near him and one of the drunks rolled over and moaned. Damn thought Peter, he had to be quiet, he couldn’t even scream in here or the others would wake up and who knows what sort of madmen they might be. He couldn’t even enjoy yelling at himself the way he deserved. He couldn’t do anything but sit and be quiet. A prisoner of his own stupidity. He sat back down and looked at the walls. He wondered how it would feel to look at the same walls years and years from now.
When Peter heard the heavy door bolt turn he didn’t even look up. The drunks had been sleeping all night and now that it was morning they would probably be turned back out onto the streets.
“That’s him over there a voice said and Peter was surprised to see that the two men in the door were looking at him. “Come on,” said the jailer, “you’re obviously much luckier than you look.”
Peter got up stiff and aching from sleeping all night leaning up into a corner to avoid disturbing his cell mates. He knew he was probably just being sent to a permanent cell, or perhaps to work in the jail kitchens. He had heard the man use the word lucky, and he wanted to cling to it, but who knows what these people considered lucky. He could easily imagine them saying You’re lucky, there will be no gallows for you, instead you get to carry the latrine buckets from the jail to the dung heap for the next thirty years. Lucky lad indeed. Or even the inverse, You’re lucky you won’t have to cary the latrine buckets, they’re going to hang you now and get it over with!
Peter stretched, feeling sharp pains in his knees and back, and tried to focus his eyes on the men. The one who had spoken was the jailer, he had seen him the night before when he came in. The other man wore a castle uniform. That couldn’t be good Peter thought. What could anyone from the castle want with me? Either they have some really horrid job that only a criminal boy from the jail could be asked to do, he decided, or, he thought more sarcastically, the king has decided that runaway boys are a real problem in this city and its time to set an example and start sending them straight to the gallows. Lucky me, he thought again.
Peter walked to the door and followed the two men down the narrow hallway. When they came to the outer office the jailer gave the man in the blue castle uniform a paper to sign and then said, “OK, he’s all yours.
The man from the castle turned to Peter and extending his hand said “Hello Peter, I’m Stephen Thomas, Assistant Court Clerk for King Philip I.
Peter took the man’s hand and shook it hesitantly. Politeness and good manners were something he was not used to receiving from adults. It made him both uneasy and suspicious.
“If you will come with me,” Stephen said, “I will explain things as we proceed to your destination. Are you hungry, we could stop and eat on the way?”
“Uh, yes. Yes I am hungry,” Peter answered. This was all very weird and confusing, but whatever was going to happen Peter was more than happy to eat first.”
“Aren’t you going to tie him? The jailer called to them as they were leaving, “I don’t want my men having to bring him back in here tomorrow when he gets away from you.”
“Don’t worry,” Stephen called back to him, “He won’t be running away.”
Stephen went out onto the street and turned left, he glanced back to see if Peter was following but he made no move to hang on to him or to herd him.
As Stephen stopped at the corner Peter caught up to him and asked, “Why don’t you think I will try to run?” The whole situation was confusing to Peter and though he didn’t want to alert his new guardian to the possibility of him running, Stephen obviously knew something that Peter did not.
“For two good reasons,” Stephen said. “First because you are not stupid and this can be a very good opportunity for you and second, because it would do you no good. If you run I will simply catch you. This way,” he said, “I know where we can get an excellent breakfast and it’s right on our way.” Stephen stepped off of the curb and started down the street without looking back.”
Rather cocky about being able to catch me, Peter thought as he hurried to follow the strange man, but he was right, Peter knew. Peter hadn’t had any difficulty judging the speed and competency of his pursuers lately. When the City Guards had chased him he knew that they were in good shape, but that he would eventually out run them, and just as surely, when he had seen that boy come so smoothly through that door yesterday, he had known immediately that the older boy was faster. The clerk ahead of him was a mystery. A clerk should be a tired out of shape bureaucrat, but that didn’t describe Stephen at all. The man ahead of him was short and thin and very light on his feet. His hair was tied back in a long dark pony tail that flowed behind him as he moved like a jungle cat down the crowded street. He can definitly be very fast if he should choose to, Peter decided. Still, that was not what kept him from running. Even though he was sure this opportunity would turn out to be some sort of scam that left him on the receiving end, the only wise thing for him to do would be to let it play out for awhile and find out what this man was up to.
“Here,” said Stephen as he turned into a small place full of low tables and benches. “Potatoes and wheat toast, for two,” he called to the girl who was wiping down a table with a damp cloth.
“Bacon?” the girl asked.
“Do you want bacon with your breakfast?” Stephen asked, turning to Peter.
“Sure,” Peter replied.
“Bacon too,” Stephen called to the girl and she disappeared into the kitchen.
“Sit,” he said, motioning to a table in the corner. “First some questions. Are you smart?”
Peter was a little taken aback by that. How did you answer such a thing? Relative to what? Or who?” Obviously not,” he said at last.
“Good answer. Wise answer. I’ve spoken to Mr. Connery at the Orphanage. He says you are interested and an eager learner. Do you like to learn things?”
“Well, yes.” It seemed a safe enough answer, but Peter was getting more suspicious by the moment, he had no idea what Stephen was leading up to.
“Why have you run away so many times?”
Peter considered a modest answer, but then a touch of anger made him say, “My life is my own.” He knew he should be careful, but what could it hurt to answer truthfully? He had been thinking about this a lot and it felt good to get a chance to answer back to all the adults and well-off people who were always trying to use him; to answer back even to this man, with his hidden scheme that he had not yet begun to reveal.
“I’m tired of it,” said Peter, “I’m tired of being this man’s rock carrier or that man’s shill. I wasn’t born on this earth to help make you or anyone else richer and I’m not going to waste my life doing it. I’m going to make a future for myself one way or another and whatever it is you want to use me for, well... your just out of luck that’s all, I’m not doing it.”
Stephen was smiling at him. It was unsettling.
“You want self direction, to choose your own future.”
“Yes,” agreed Peter.
“To be the captain of your own ship, the arbiter of your own destiny, to make a mark upon the world that is uniquely your own.” Stephen was leaning back on his seat now smiling wildly and gesturing in the air.
“Well, yes. I guess.” This isn’t what Peter expected. He was telling the man that he wouldn’t go along with whatever it was that he wanted, and the man looked pleased. I’m in way over my head Peter thought. I have to be very, very, careful.
The girl came with big plates of fried potatoes and peppers. There was a loaf of heavy wheat bread with butter, honey and blackberries. Stephen pushed the plate of crisp bacon to Peter’s side of the table and tore off a piece of bread and began buttering it for himself.
“Here’s the deal,” he said. “A man, a wise man, an advisor to the King in fact, has been looking for an apprentice. It can be a good opportunity and he chooses to offer it to someone who would not otherwise have such an opportunity.”
“Even someone who has not shown proper appreciation for the other opportunities he has been offered?” Peter asked.
Stephen shook his head. “It’s not like that. He doesn’t want to teach someone who will likely end up as a pawn for someone else. He wants someone who can think for himself. In fact, he wants someone who will insist on thinking for himself. You must admit,” he smiled as he ground black pepper onto his potatoes, “you have shown just that sort of independent thinking.”
“Yes,” Peter agreed, “and look where it got me.”
Stephen shrugged “A wise man once said, t’hat which doesn't kill us makes us stronger’.”
Peter was quiet a moment. He wished he didn’t have to think about all of this so that he could concentrate on the food. It was a simple enough meal but compared to the monotonous daily oat mush he had eaten for breakfast for so many years it seemed to be a feast.
“Trust me Peter,” Stephen said, “You are what he is looking for. Bright, resourceful, independent, not afraid to strike out on your own, confident in your own abilities. Connery says you were a good student. What do you say? Will you go and meet him?”
Peter put another potato in his mouth. He knew a few old sayings himself. He knew that when something sounded to good to be true, it usually was. These people wanted him for something, but if they were willing to teach him things maybe he should go along with it for awhile. He could always run away later and maybe he would be able to pick up some useful skills before he had to move on.
“Sure,” Peter said at last, “I’ll go and see this wise man. It’s an apprentice you said he wanted?”
“Yes, he has a younger boy with him already but he wants another. He says that in some ways it is easier to teach two than one.”
“What sort of apprenticeship is it? What does he do?
“He is an alchemist” Stephen said.
Peter drooped visibly. “I’m to learn to boil lead and read secrets from stones?”
“Don’t worry,” said Stephen smiling broadly, “You will learn far more than you can image now. Let’s let him explain that part. But I can assure you that you will learn some very useful things. Did I not say that he was an advisor to King Philip himself.”
“Is that why I was picked up from the jail by a clerk from the castle?”
“In part,” Stephen admitted. “Artimus Dee has been a good friend both to the King himself and to the castle administration. It was no great task for us to watch for a young criminal who might benefit from his patronage.”
Stephen's smile was infectious. Even though Peter was trying to keep a solid front of skepticism, something about Stephen made him feel light hearted. The man’s eyes were so bright and his grin so disarming that even when he was speaking of serious things he seemed as though he were on the virge of breaking into song and dancing off across the room. Stephen merrily finished off his potatoes and went to pay the serving girl and in a moment she was laughing too.
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