Eorling Mead Hall

[Folwren]

Javan had told the truth, the entire story being dragged from him reluctantly with direct, sharp questions from Eodwine. And now to cap it off, Falco, the very person from whom Javan had stolen the items to start the fire, walked up and learned at once that Javan had started it. The boy new that soon everyone would know – it wasn’t something that would be kept secret – but it did burn a bit. The way Eodwine said it sounded as though he had done it on purpose.

And then Eodwine turned away from him and spoke to Thornden. “Take him home,” he said. “You shall leave today.”

Without looking again at Javen, the eorl turned and strode back towards the hall. Javan looked after him, feeling crushed. “Lord Eodwine!” he called out, finding his tongue before the eorl made it to the door. “Lord Eodwine, please! I’ll do anything!”

Thornden reached out and grabbed Javan’s arm. He turned him about sharply to face him and shook him. “Be quiet! Be quiet, do you hear?”

“But, Thornden,” Javan pleaded, tears welling up in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to, and I want to make up. I don’t want to go home.”

“I don’t think you have much choice.”

“Please let me talk to him…plead my case. He is a judge of a court, isn’t he? I should be heard, shouldn’t I?”

“A judge!” Thornden exclaimed. “Javan, if you were to stand before him in his court, there would be worse judgment than just being sent home, I can promise you!”

“But if he didn’t kill me and let me stay, then I wouldn’t care what the judgment was,” Javan said, beginning to cry.

Thornden had no patience to stand and talk with him. Daylight was fading quickly. Their ride would be done in the dark, obviously, and the sooner they set off, the better. He directed Javan towards the Hall and let him go with an emphasized nudge. “Go get your things together. We’re leaving as soon as I can find horses.”

Javan made off obediently, his head hung low and his shoulder’s hunched forward, weighed down with guilt and shame. Thornden turned to Léof. He had not said a word the entire time.

“Léof,” Thornden began quietly. He didn’t know if he should ask him just now, or apologize, or what. But he had been given orders. “Léof, are there two horses that can bear us tonight?”

“The horses are fine,” Léof said. His voice was flat, void of emotion, and he didn’t look at Thornden. “But I think all the saddles were burned.”

“No, actually,” Thornden said. “Someone managed to save a few at the very beginning. It was one of the men who stopped from the street.”

Léof nodded and turned. “I’ll get Javan’s horse and another for you.”

Thornden paused a moment. He looked towards the door of the hall and then after Léof, and decided to follow the ostler and lend a hand there.

---

Javan entered the Hall by the same door Eodwine had. He kept to the shadows of the wall as he went into the main hall and scurried as quickly as he could towards the door to the residential wing. He was half way there when he spotted the eorl, standing in the twilit gloom of the open hall.

Javan’s feet stopped. He looked at Eodwine, his heart thumping against his ribs. The eorl did not seem to be aware of him. Slowly, Javan turned from his course and approached him.

“Sir?” he asked as he finally drew near. Eodwine looked up, and Javan’s advance halted abruptly. “I – I would like to stay, sir. Is there no way I can make up? I’ll promise to do whatever you want. I won’t cause trouble – I’ll do my best to be good.”

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine had been making his slow way to the kitchen, and stopped by his eorl's chair when the boy, Javan, the culprit, the arson, had come up to him.

Eodwine had just been thinking about how court would be held the next day, and how it would not be out of the way to bring charges against the boy, to make him work for years to pay the debt of the lost stable and the horse and all else that had been lost in the fire. It would make the boy his serf for a long, long time, and amply deserved; but it was not something he cared to do. Better to send the boy on his way back home. He would see to it that Kara provided bread and drink for Thornden, and coin enough to find an inn or bribe for a stranger's bed.

The boy had nerve, or such desire. Of course he could not stay. It did not matter what promise he might make right now, he had little self-control, even for one of his own age. Apparently he had been spoiled back home, and not trained to do what he was told and earn his way. Eodwine was not moved by his plea. He was young, and would recover given the right circumstances. But for Eodwine the decision had been easy and would not be easily changed. The boy was too reckless, too out of control, too in need of constant supervision, to be --- and suddenly Eodwine was caught in a possibility. He looked over the boy's head, allowing the silence to stretch on, no doubt uncomfortably for the boy.

"I will think on it this night and decide in the morning. Send for Thornden, boy. I must talk to him. Do this one thing now and do not delay, and perhaps it may go well for you."