YOREN I

 

The night was on the verge of the dawn tranquilly as slumber still dwelt in the masterly establishments of Ilem's Lane. The moon was barely visible for the clouds reigned over the endless blue-black battlefield : the sky. But the stars, as tiny as they were, never stopped twinkling if anyone would pay regards to them. The night was nothing exceptional than any other night in Alphaville, cool and quiet.

Yoren absentmindedly anticipated the arrival of dawn even when he had lived a night which he would always wish to stay longer and longer. His lady-love lay beside him exhausted and warm beneath the sheets, wrapping her hand around his waist. She had the air of being sound asleep in perpetual contentment and he took long glimpses of her as she slept. The feeble sound of her delicate breaths and suspires was alluring and in the musty chamber of Yoren, her fragrance of jasmine spread around his senses.

Somewhere in the far, perhaps a stray dog shot an indistinct yelp, leaving Yoren alarmed. But never did he stop gazing her. Soft pink lips, a sharp normal nose, locked eyes, fine jaw and reddened cheeks and the darkest of the hair he had always loved ever so fondly, he examined each with a half smile full of contentment.

He would have slept too, but it was too late to sleep for a working man who received training in the Pit of Martyrs, had a small job in an inn and who at the same time, was in love. It was difficult for a man to love a woman when one would be taking training to become a fighter and, more difficult to prove himself as a reliable lover. That was not it. His work both at the pit and in the inn were distinctly different from one another. At sunrise, he rushed to the inn for the fighters would come to break their fast and would leave coins on the table before going. Yoren was one of them too, but his work was to serve the food, deliver the dishes from the kitchen to the tables and the other way around for the dishwasher to make it clean. It was an active task, sometimes talkative too when the customers would ask for discount to Yoren on the behalf of their friendship. Strangely and sadly, he would never have seen them by his side. At the pit, he would squire the Lord Commander, Ser Arthur. Serve him wine and food with a composed gait. It would be one tray at a time before him, unlike in the inn, it could be several. Then he would pick up his training sword and begin to practice with men. Archery was his new amusement now a days and Ser Henery Gilbert taught it harshly. But then, everything was harsh in the Pit of Martyrs.

Thought of his toil made him reach out for the cold hand of his lover and he pressed it with deep affection. He leaned in for a kiss on her lips, but it fell on her nose-tip.

"My lady!", he called her softly, brushing hair off her forehead.

She unlocked her eyes gingerly and smiled with exhaust. Her look convinced Yoren that she needed more sleep, but in this small room of his, she should not possibly stay any longer. It was no place for a Lady's sleep.

"Wake up", he said. "You should head back to the Palace. Dawn is nearly upon us".

She raised an eyebrow with suspicion. "You didn't sleep, did you?"

"I did". It was a lie, of course.

"Doesn't seem so", she caught his lie easily as it had been the same between those two. Whenever she came, Yoren never slept a wink. He always wanted to live the moments with her presence the most. Sleeping would be vain as compared to the pleasure he got in case of watching her falling asleep.

"I bet you'll doze off in the pit", she whispered and came out of the blanket at once. Yoren saw her body shivering in cold for a moment and she embraced herself tight. She grabbed her clothes hurriedly and wrapped herself up in the warmth of the fireplace. Red of her gown brightened up and she drew a generous smile on looking at Yoren which he dearly adored. Slowly, she walked to the window.

"The view from your room is always the same", she said peeking out of the window. "It must be boring to live here alone." How very well Yoren knew it was! 

"Come back from the window at once!", he said concernedly. "You might catch a chill, dear. Or... you could be seen from the outside. I would want that the least".

"Perhaps you have forgotten where we belong", she said. "I have endured nights darker than this and colder than this, the freezing ones. No-one even thinks about an open window in those nights. One step outside and your blood would go rigid like rock. I could never catch a chill here".

Indeed, Yoren had endured such nights too. His bedchamber used to be large and warmer. Cold winds roared outside the walls and snow fell down from the sky restlessly all night long. He loved the days which came after the snow fall. Even as young man, he never showed distaste playing with the snow which he himself had to shovel after a while. Air bore the scent of wilderness and snow as he would wander in the Winterwoods in search of a stag, a fox, wild geese or anything which he could hunt down and send to the Snow Fort. Then, he would fill his wagon with goods which had to be sold in the city market. Never did he get leisure to rest. His father was the gardener of Lord Northborn and Yoren spent plenty of his time in the Snow Fort helping his father. He was as diligent as in the capital. Nights felt shorter than they already were and mornings cost him work. 

It was just better at his home. Yoren knew it was. It would have been better if he stayed back in Whiteborough with the snow and the Northerners. They were free people, but lived in the North as if there was no world outside of it. In the South it was warm and people odd. Whiteborough bore a flavour of affinity in itself and Yoren had tasted it when he worked there. He worked for his home and for the happiness of himself. It never occurred to him that he was in service of highborn people. He knew them as closely as they knew him.

A yawn came out of him as he climbed down the bed. Chill in the air caught his bare skin and made him hold his teeth hard. Hastily, he picked up his clothes and shrugged into it while he was being stared at. He sat on the edge of the bed and prepared himself to put on his black boots, the leather of which shone like an armour. He felt his face might be looking sleepy.

"Why do you have to go so early today?", she asked of him like a plaint.

"Doryann Aquador is to get his title today", said Yoren tying the laces. His voice sounded dull. "Another lucky one with a silver spoon in his mouth. You should see him, his prying purple eyes and long silver hair. He looks like a figure from an old story book. We have to make a small celebratory gathering for him today, to let him know that we're happy for his entitlement. Wouldn't it be enough that he would receive a new sword from the King himself in his court? I would rather work at the inn than attending that gathering". Annoyance was easy to be noticed out of his words. He even kicked the ground unknowingly.

"Why must you always be so jealous, Yoren?", his woman asked, teasing him.

"I am not jealous", he said although he found it hard to believe the truth of his own words. He had convinced himself that he only envied the knights. Jealousy wouldn't be the thing. One by one, many of the highborn men left the fighting pit after getting knighted and Yoren longed for the day when he, as well, would receive his title from the Lord Commander of City Watch. Pride was more if it was from the King himself, but Yoren considered that it did not necessarily have to be the King. The King was for the lot of Doryann Aquador and besides, Yoren was squiring for Ser Arthur. It had been a while and he admired him more than any other man in the capital. He was young and honorable at the same time.

"Yes, dear", the Lady said. "You are always jealous of people like Doryann Aquador".

"No way!"

"You do not even spare the Ladies"

"Why would a man like me be jealous of a Lady?"

"Well, I'll leave that concern up to you", she said tying her hairnet. "This city is spoiling your memory, Yoren. Have you really begun to forget the happenings from your past? Especially which is relevant to us? To our story? How can it not be in your mind?" Yoren figured her voice was an outcome of resentment.

But perhaps it was true. Alphaville had changed Yoren in some certain ways and he never made an effort to notice it. At home, he was diligent and responsible. Here, he became more of what he was and many things of the past had slipped out of his mind. Often on listening to the stories of past, he smiled nervously as if there was no existence of the memory in him. He felt a bit embarrassed in front of her, failing to recall the jealousy he had borne for any Ladies.

"Have you really forgotten the slap?", she eyed him sharply as she said. "You used to be jealous of me. When your father carried me on his back and took me on the tours of our garden, you would follow our ways into it. Your eyes used to be big and full of discontent. And in the jealousy, you slapped me once. I cried so hard and went to father to have you banished from North".

Yoren began to drift in a blur of memories and sensation, old and cold. It was all from their childhood when Yoren did not have to work. But if he had been exiled from his home, how could he have the memories of his adolescence and adulthood which he spent there, in the North? He was  puzzled.

"You followed me into his chamber and stood there like a frozen pole", the Lady added to his puzzle. "I was to tell father about your stupidity and then, I saw you, your troubled face. Tears rolled down your face and you still stood frozen".

"But you said nothing", Yoren had solved the puzzle now. His eyes met with hers and it was a long stare full of longing. He longed for her to finish what she had initiated. Silence remained in the air for a while as their eyes were too indulged with each others.

"Yes, I said nothing", said she in a tender voice. "From the look at your poor face, I felt something exceptional. My anger melted and I felt a warmth for you at that moment which I still feel for you everyday".

They smiled with embarrassment. Reminiscence of old days could often leave people like that.

Yoren stepped closer to her and held her hands in his. "You must not remind yourself of that slap", he said softly lowering his head with an appearance of shyness. "I was a stupid boy and had done things which only leave me embarrassed".

"Yoren!", she said as their eyes met. "You're still stupid".

Yoren took it as mockery and stood quietly looking into her magnificent eyes like a stupid boy.

"You're stupid because you are squandering your coins on your training which is leading you to nowhere", she continued. "Today, you have the recourse of your coins. They're not even gold. Leave that pit and save your coins. You have no provision for the life ahead and Gods forbid if I would have to run away with you, I can't, because then you can not take good care of us. I can't imagine myself going on with my dowry if I'll be staying in the palace for long. I will need you, Yoren and you can't be able to make yourself useful without much coins". She appeared to be worried and concerned about his situations.

"We shall not run away", he said fiercely like a king. "I'll get my title and then your father will give his consent on our marriage. Afterwards, I shall have you forever".

"You don't have to be a knight to have me", she drew her face closer. "I am already yours".

Then they kissed with passion for it was the kiss of parting.

"I would take the moment and warn you, Yoren", she said while climbing down the stairs. "Lord Northborn might be a man of honor, but I doubt he is as sensible as you think he is. Give it a thought, my dear. I would rather marry a pathetic Lord than being a burden to your life".

Yoren could hardly take such a thing from his beloved. He stopped and said with pride, "I promise you'll be happy with me. But if you hesitate to be a burden, I would like to tell you, I would carry it with the greatest love and care".

She chuckled and went on saying, "A burden is always a burden. It could never be eternally pleasant for any man".

Yoren felt an impulse to look forward into the time to come as he saw the Lady vanish into the establishments leading North of the Temple of Divine. He stood there at the street and let the chill shiver him without his notions. The night was now gone and the sky above was awaiting for the light with patience and calm.

Doryann Aquador, most definitely got his title from the King and Yoren did not. He did not acquire what he had desired and Doryann, perhaps had never even urged to desire for it. It was served to him on a silver tray along with the silver spoon he was born with. Yoren did not like it. Why should he? He spent years in tedious training and service which actually led him nowhere as he had been told. He understood he was wasting his time and coins, but giving it up in the middle after all the hardship and struggle he had been through was not in his intentions. At least not now. 

When Doryann Aquador came to the Pit in his golden armour and new sword and most importantly, in pride, it was a bright afternoon. It sparked resentment in Yoren as he stood in the crowd to congratulate the newly appointed knight. Ser Arthur walked along with Doryann to the front of the crowd. Yoren felt himself like an ant, furious with frustration who would bite the hell out of that silver haired fox. He pursed his lips tight and tried to avoid watching the luminous armour, the long sword with a hilt of cracken, the purple eyes full of haughtiness and the man who acquired them. But everytime he looked elsewhere, it led him back to Doryann Aquador. He couldn't stop watching him. Neither could he distinguish the fire within himself.

"Ser Doryann of House Aquador!", Ser Arthur announced cheerfully as Doryann lifted his sword up in the air and waved it victoriously.

Yoren took no part when people shouted and cheered and praised the new knight loudly. It was deafening. The pit echoed and doves flew away from where they rested.

Ser Arthur was calm, but smiling with appreciation. Yoren figured it was not for Doryann, but for the zeal of his men. The Lord Commander was fond of gatherings and often delivered strong speeches which empowered every man of the pit.

"I am a knight now!", Doryann said with all his strength and his sword still lifted up high.

"Hurrah!", the crowd cheered.

"This day is a remarkable one", Doryann continued. "Let us make it more remarkable. I've got a new sword from the King and it would be extremely dull without its use. All I ask is a man full of vigour and challenge. Come forward! Let us have a fight, a good one. I shall make this day more glorious with another victory in the name of Aquadieu, the God of Ocean. Beat me if anyone can". Then he laughed like a monster.

The crowd fell silent. Cheers turned into whispers and confusion ascended to the weary faces of the men. Yoren, however felt he had predicted this was coming and did not seem to have been bothered by Doryann's provocative invitation to fight. Initially, he thought of stepping forward and join the Aquador in his challenge being well aware of his own immature skills of bravery. He was still learning and fighting was not his thing actually. But he fought better than many of his mates who were forced to become a fighter on the decisions of their fathers. Yoren fought for himself.

Doryann Aquador looked around with his prying purple eyes for a man. Yoren took no notice of it as if he knew he couldn't fight that man. He shook his head and preferred the sight of clouds and sun playing with each other in the blue sky. It reminded him of the inn, the dishes and the people, the chatter-patter and the coins he picked up from the tables.

After a moment, he felt he was being stared at by the men. They all seemed quite eager. Then he heard in the voice of Doryann, "Come forward, you distracted soul. Let me bring you back to the track". That was when Yoren realised his wish had come true and his body froze even in the warmth of the day. His throat burned and legs shook in fret.

"You're screwed up" , he got to hear from the whispers.

"Yoren!", Ser Arthur called out fiercely. When Yoren met his eyes, he was convinced that he had been given a chance to fight and the Lord Commander himself would judge his skills. He did not feel his feet moving before he was beside Doryann in front of everyone.

"Brave of you to join", someone said. Perhaps Ser Arthur, but Yoren was too stunned to listen. Everything was a blur then. He was given a sword, someone put an armour on him, someone else patted his back, whispered in his ears about some tacts, but it did not help him. He was unprepared and an unprepared fighter would only think of yielding when he was no great master of the art of bravery.

But Yoren fought. He defended himself from the strokes of his opponent's great sword with his old and comparably smaller sword for a few times. Doryann seemed to have learned his trick after his repeated defense. Actually, nothing was Yoren's trick. It was only defense. He did not want to get hurt that day and from a knight like Doryann.

Men began to make disappointed noise when Yoren just went on protecting himself. Not even for a single time, he attempted to strike his sword towards Doryann to show some of what he had been learning for months. He breathed heavily and seemed to be exhausted easily from the fight and he knew he would not possibly last long if it was carried on. The armour felt loose but heavy and Yoren fought more for breath than for the victory. Perhaps he was prepared to lose this unwanted fight in an unprepared and helpless situation. He did not care anymore what Ser Arthur would think or others. All he cared about was not to get hurt.

His legs ached and sweat dropped off his forehead as well as his entire body. The sword began to slip and Yoren found it hard to hold on to its grip. But he fought. He thought if he was going to lose anyway, at least he could try to last as long as he could and to delay his defeat. Doryann Aquador seemed annoyed with this fight which only made him more and more aggressive each time he stroke his sword against Yoren, who did nothing but defended himself.

"Coward!", Doryann often shouted furiously. But Yoren was calm and showed no enthusiasm as a fighter. He wanted Doryann to know that he cared not about this fight and least about the win. The fight was getting intense, but dull and monotonous. And Yoren's contribution to it was more than his opponent as if he had sworn an oath to make Doryann's knighthood duller than it already was in his eyes. Not once did he try to look at Ser Arthur. Perhaps he was sure his Lord Commander would be annoyed as well. Why wouldn't he? Nobody would like to witness a dull yet tedious fight. 

It was not like Yoren did not know how to fight. He was well aware of the art and had scarcely been a defeatist, but he chose not to showcase it in case of this Venkish knight.  

The fight would have been unending if he wouldn't have fallen down due to excessive exhaustion and boredom. He happened to lose all his strength and fell to the ground. One side of his face including the cheek got pressed hard and he grunted in fatigue. Doryann had won one-sidedly when he put his sword on Yoren's neck.

"Do you yield?", Doryann asked Yoren haughtily.

"Of course, you idiot", Yoren said panting and being proud of his obvious defeat.

Doryann was confused and he moved the sword towards Yoren's damp face. It appeared he felt humiliated and was exasperated. Yoren realised he used "idiot" for a Lord-to-be and it was strong enough to make his anger reasonable. He locked his eyes hard when the steel was on his face and drew a small red smile on his left cheek. It did not hurt until sweat came in touch with it.

"That will remind you how to treat a man of Nobility", Doryann justified his deed. And afterwards Yoren only heard cheerful noise of the men.

When night fell and Yoren returned to his room, the cut burned more than it did in the afternoon and during the evening. Fabin just washed it with cold water and assured him that it would heal within a few days and he would not even feel it was there. Fabin worked at the inn with him and often helped him in various ways. Sometimes he would offer meals on his coins and sometimes he would take dishes from Yoren's hands so that he would catch a breath of relief for a while. He was a friend perhaps.

Everyone who paid visit to the inn seemed to act strange on seeing the cut on Yoren's left cheek. He could do nothing to hide it. He was not a Lady or a veil would have served it well. Such scars, usually, were symbols of bravery for the knights, but every man in the pit had witnessed how Yoren, as stupid as he was considered, called Doryann Aquador an idiot and he scarred it on Yoren's cheek as a retribution. It was a symbol of shame.

It was one of those awful days which did not necessarily have to be in the reminiscence and Yoren wanted to forget all about it while walking on the streets towards his room.  But air was cool and its occasional touch on the cut would leave Yoren shivering both with cold and irritation. And this would remind him that there was a scar which he had to hold on his face for some days to come. There was no way out of the day until the scar was gone.

When he opened the door, someone was already in there. He inhaled the fragrance of jasmin just like that of the body of his lover. 

"Michie!", he exclaimed as he found a Lady sitting on his bed. 

Candles were lit and sheets were done. Michie just sat on the bed looking constantly into the fur blanket. Yoren had never seen her in a condition like that in his room. Her nosetip was red, her hair wavy alongside her face to the back, eyes filled with tears and despair and lips pursed tight. There was something exceptional in her appearance that night.

Yoren drew closer and made a bold attempt to kiss his lover, but she averted it by stopping him with her hands and turned her face in another direction.

"What is the matter?", Yoren asked suspiciously.

"Nothing"

"It's not nothing", he said. "You don't usually try to stop me from kissing you"

"I said it's nothing"

"Why are you here then?"

"Is it inconvenient now to come visit you?"

"I never said so", he said making himself comfortable in the blanket. "I am glad you are here with me. But you are acting odd which makes me suspect that something must be wrong".

When their eyes met, Michie spotted the cut on his cheek and smiled. Her smile looked utterly unsuitable for the state of her face.

"You got a scar", she said. "Not good at fight, eh?"

Yoren gave no answers.

"Who was it?", she sounded insistent and curious. 

"Doryann Aquador", Yoren said feeling ashamed.

"Hmm"

Yoren had no desires of getting hurt. He had been hurt gravely in his initial days and he had suffered alone in his solitary room. No-one was there to come take care of him,  to give him a massage with warm oil on his aching legs and arms. No-one to soothe him by words and absolutely no-one to apply potion on his wounds. He did not wish to go through that. Loneliness was a vital distraction from his ambition. It was perhaps a weakness.

"What is the matter with you?", Yoren asked with emphasis.

"I am sad"

"Why?"

Michie pointed out a piece of paper that was lying on the nightstand. After reading it word by word, it was clear why she acted like that. Her father was asking her to find a good match in the capital.

"Father has no notions of us", Michie said.

"Are you going to obey him?"

"Of course not, you blathering idiot!"

Yoren pondered why he asked a question like that. Weren't they in love? He believed he needed to show optimism towards their future. But then, he was not getting a title and Michie had already refused him before. She was true. A noble Lady like him would never wish to be a burden on anyone. For a moment he thought of telling her not to defy her father. Yoren, too, would like her well settled and respected in the country. But he loved her. How could he tell her to find a husband? It was stupidity.

"I got a proposal already", Michie said delusively, tucking her hair to the back of her ear. "If I stay in the palace for long, it will raise suspicion and we might get spied on. Soon, we will be disclosed and disgraced. You'll be thrown out of the pit and I from the palace. My father would see it best to find a desperate knight or Lord-to-be and get me married as soon as possible. That'll be the end of us, Yoren".

No, he would never let this happen. Everything would be in vain if Michie would be wed off to a total stranger. He needed to act quickly before her father.

"No", he said shaking his head in disbelief. "I wouldn't let you go".

"I don't want to go", she said holding his arm. "Act wisely, Yoren. It is all up to you. If you want me to run away, I'll be up for it. If you wish me to marry someone else, I will. If you wish it to be the end, I'll let it be".

"Wait a little longer, dear", he said calmly. "I'll find a way for us. You don't have to marry someone else. Just have patience".

"I do have patience", she assured him. "How else do you think I've come this far?"

It eased the situation. Yoren let his fingers entangle with hers and kissed her forehead.

"But who proposed you?", he asked.

She grew silent for a while and then looked deep into his eyes.

"Doryann Aquador!"