The Garden of Eden





Essun crouched amongst rotting sacks cast aside by the traders and farmers who had set up stalls in the market square. The crowd percolated through the meagre displays of food and cloth, the seller’s entreaties to buy following them. It was the same ritual every market day, people selling whatever they could afford to part with, hoping they would earn enough coin to buy the things they needed. The buyers, just as desperate to purchase the food on offer, hoped to part with as little coin as possible. The ordinary folk of forsaken land, the rapists, the pickpockets, the murderers, were close to starvation on a daily basis. The army commandeered most of the food that came into the city paying only a pittance in compensation. At least they paid, the Orcs didn’t bother. Any man foolish enough to stand up and claim his due from them would soon find himself in the cooking pot alongside the stolen vegetables.



He watched the shuffling feet of the patrons and listened to the bargaining and bartering. When Essun was sure the good folks of the market had grown accustomed to his slumped presence and discarded him as being beneath their exalted notice he started to pick through the sacks. Peeling each one back with his good right hand he scavenged any mouldy grain, shrivelled vegetable or wizened fruit he discovered. Each one he placed, with great care, into the small bag that hung from the stump of his left wrist. Pickings were lean today, like every day, but food was food. He was in no position to complain.



“Hey,” One of the stallholders shouted and Essun turned, “Get back here, you fuckin’ little thief.”



Essun chuckled, noting the snare of indecision that gripped the stallholder; chase the little urchin and leave his stall unattended, surrounded a hundred other thieves or stay and keep it safe, forgoing the chance at retribution. Essun watched him take a step forward then back, the battle between outrage and common-sense clear in every movement. In the end, common-sense won and the man, cursing, stayed by his stall.



Two soldiers, chainmail hauberks hanging down to their knees, nose-guard helms covering their heads and spears in hand, walked through the crowd. Essun took another look at the stallholder, was the man angry enough and stupid enough? The answer followed in the thought’s wake like a priest behind a whore.



“Guards,” the Stallholder called out to them, “the thief, he went that way.”



Essun held his breath. The soldiers paused in their stride, turned and made their way over to the stallholder who was, too late, realising the mistake he’d made.



“A thief you say?” The first soldier said, poking his fingers through the wares on display.



“Um…”



“You hear that, Verd, there’s been a theft in the market,” the first soldier addressed the other.



“So I hear, Teks,” said Verd. “This is shocking news. I’m sure the Governor would like to hear about it.”



“Or maybe his pet monster? We’d best investigate,” Teks said, a dirty grin on his face. “Perhaps you could point this thief out to us. Be a big help in our investigation, that would.”



“Well, I didn’t get a good look at him,” the Stallholder babbled, “it was so quick.”



“That’s mighty disappointing, that is.” Verd said, picking up a shrivelled apple and turning it over in his hands. “Suppose we could check everyone round hereabouts.”



Teks snaked out a hand and grabbed the arm of a passer-by, wrenching them over. Essun saw the blood drain from their victim’s face.



“I ain’t done nothing,” the small man said and tried to back away but Teks’ grip was firm.



“You all done something,” Verd said. “That’s why you’re here with the rest of the scum.” He shifted the apple into his palm and used a free finger to push aside a lock of the accused man’s hair. There, on the trembling man’s forehead, a branded mark. “Escaped slave. Not a thief then.”



“Pah,” Teks pushed the ex-slave away from him and back into the crowd. “Investigation finished, done all we can.”



“Reckon so,” Verd smiled, tombstone teeth and receding gums. “We couldn’t find your thief but that’s how it goes sometimes. It’s hard to find just one amongst so many. Now, I think we deserve some kinda payment for all our hard work.”



“Please, take an apple,” the Stallholder stammered before adding, “each.”



Essun shook his head. Everyone in the town, lest they were born here, was a criminal of one type or another. The soldiers were no exception. The only difference being that they were good with a weapon or been trained to be even better. You give bad men something sharp and bad things happen, Essun thought.



“That’s a mite measly of you considering all the effort we’ve gone to on your behalf,” Verd growled. “You saying that we’re only worth a shrivelled apple. Fucking farmer. You think ‘cos you got a little bit of land, that you’re better than us. Is that it? That what you think?”



Essun turned away from the soldiers and struggled back to his feet, wincing as his back cracked and knees creaked. He limped away from the pleading Stallholder. The snapping and crashing of the stall being kicked over alongside the grunts of the soldiers and whimpers of the man followed him from the market. He didn’t look back.



The cries faded as he turned corner after corner, the muddy streets slippery beneath his unsteady feet. Past the Fingered Unicorn, the smell of beer, sweat, and desperation seeped from the brothel’s walls. Grunts and moans spilled through the open windows on the second floor.



Rounding another corner and Essun had to sidle past the body of man lying face down in the mud. A few steps away a group of men were counting out the contents of a purse. One of them looked up, noticing Essun and nudged the others.



“He tripped,” the largest one said. “Tripped.”



Essun nodded and kept moving, pulling the threadbare hood of his cloak over his head. He turned again and then once more before, in a narrow alley, pushing aside the blanket door of his hovel and crawling in. Outside, the rain began to fall.



“What did you get?” the boy’s said, his voice on the cusp of paving his way to manhood.



“Not much,” Essun said. “Soldier’s kicked up a fuss and I had to leave. Got a couple of carrots and a potato that ain’t too far gone. We can put it with the last of the onion from yesterday. Maybe make a stew. Of sorts.”



“Yes, Da’. I’ll get the fire going.”



“Good lad, Odeh.” Essun ruffled his son’s blond hair with his right hand.



“Got you a surprise for afters, Da’,” Odeh said as he broke small twigs in half for kindling.



“Eh?” Essun stopped picking the ingredients for the night’s meal from the bag.



“Look what I found,” Odeh, face full of boyish pride, nodded down at his sleeping blankets.



There, resting on the stained and patched blanket, sat two shrivelled apples. Their wrinkled skin mirrored in the lines of puzzlement around Essun’s eyes.



“Where d’you …” He began before his eyes widened in realisation. “You bloody, stupid, little shit.”



“Dad?” Odeh’s smile fell from his face and he backed away from his father’s anger.



“Do you want to end up dead,” Essun shouted, “or worse. You stupid fucker. What if you’d been caught?”



“I wasn’t, Dad,” Odeh could retreat no further than the wooden wall at the rear of the hovel, “I did it like you said. I was quick. Walked past, snatched and ran.”



“I said?” Essun stopped his advance, recalling the stories he’d told Odeh of his youth in the towns of the Salved Kingdom. “I didn’t tell you those stories so you could go out and steal.”



Essun lunged forward and raised his left arm high. Odeh’s terrified gaze followed it upward and he cowered back, waiting for it to fall on him.



“Look at it,” Essun shouted. “Look at it. This is what you get if you steal. I can’t get a job, can’t work the land. Couldn’t get enough money to save your mother.” Essun took a deep breath, choking the anger back down as he lowered the handless arm, “I don’t want that for you, Odeh. I want you to do better than I did.”



<END>



Note: This story is set in the world of the Bloodline Trilogy by T O Munro (The Lady of the Helm and Wrath of the Medusa being book 1 and 2 respectively).



