Behindxa

Agnes hit the rock and the stick about a dozen times before the stick announced its defeat by breaking under the pressure of the rock. Hob had told her that if the stick survived past the twelfth hit, the fairies would come visit her in the night. The stick had snapped on the eleventh, causing the ten year old to stomp in anger.

“Hob!”

Hob had as Hob often did, lied to his little sister. He wasn’t doing it on purpose or to spite her, she was just small and inconvenient at times when he needed to tend to his other responsibilities. Sure, being sixteen may have been fun for some, but for him – it meant becoming the man of the house and the sole conscious parent to Agnes. Their father, bless his soul had died a short while after Agnes was born as a mercenary in some low lord’s territory war.

Their mom, gods hear his plead, had fallen victim to a nameless fever. She could no longer take care of him or his sister, leaving the two kids practically orphaned. Some of the villagers had taken sympathy to the Gadling children, leaving them whatever little extra they had – bread, corn, bits of meat if someone was feeling extra generous, but Robert Gadling knew better than anyone that winter was coming and soon, had he not found himself a bag of gold, they would starve.

And so, he worked. In two years, he had worked for the butchers, the innkeepers and the lords – killed, fought, cooked. On the third he found that leaving for bigger cities gave him better chances of ensuring the safety of his family. He kept not only the roof, but also the food on their table. The last winter had been especially cold. It was also the winter that orphaned the Gadling children – their mom passed in her sleep, trembling and quiet.

During the warmer months, such as this one now, a breezy May, Hob would have left London by himself as he had the last year and come back with a good bag of gold and some scars gathered along the way. This time around by no will of his own, he had to take Agnes with him. There was nothing that kept them in the old village anymore.

Despite his expectations, the young one was radar resilient to the weariness of travel and was an overall obedient companion. They reached London without any hitches in their travel, in the summer of the good year of the Lord, 1389.

“Hob!!” Agnes ran to the door attaching herself to the leg of her big brother.

“Yeah, kid?”

“It snapped on the eleventh time.” Agnes cried out, hugging his leg. “The fairies will not come.”

The big city Agnes had expected was bound by the dreams of a ten year old and so she did not really like London as much as she had hoped. Therefore, it had become a bit of a nuisance for Hob to entertain Agnes’s mind while he was off to work, which is also why he had found himself lying while attempting to entertain her with rocks and sticks.

The thought of sending her to work had once crossed his mind, but it was far too dangerous and despite the little one being a bit needy, he could never in a thousand years leave her in perilous hands. So, he found an intermediate solution.

They were staying at an inn, the White Horse, they called it. Since Hob had started visiting London he had only ever stayed there. The innkeepers now not only knew his name, but also looked kindly on him as he always paid on time and never left his room a mess. They were an elderly couple, nice people, but for some reason beyond understanding they were not blessed with children. So, whenever he was in London and there was something, he could help with, he did it in exchange for an extra warm meal and better room for a few nights.

This time around, Hob had saved enough money during the winter to stay at the inn as a guest for the summer. He had locked in Agnes the first few days but whenever he would come back, she would always cry, attaching herself at his ankle and refusing to let go until he promised to not do that anymore. But he had to, every single morning.

He had taken on a job as a guard for one of the more prestigious lords, which paid a lot better than the lords back home. But it was a lot more time consuming than the previous ones.

So, at the end, on a nice morning he made up his mind. Finding the innkeeper’s wife, Hob approached having mustered all his confidence.

“Excuse me…” he was holding Agnes’s hand, but afraid of the strangers, the little one hid behind her brother.

“Robert! Good morning! You’re up rather late.”

“Ye, I know…look I was wondering if you may have some work? Something light perhaps?”

“I thought that lord’s payin ya rather good.”

“No, no he is…paying me. I am more interested in some kitchen work maybe?”

“Got ya girlie, Robert? He, handsome fella like ya, bet they jump on ya neck.”

“No, no…uhm it’s actually for my little sister…” Hob’s voice became a mere whisper in the end. Something about having to ask people for favours made him incredibly uncomfortable.

“You got a sister?” she had a look on her face, Hob couldn’t quite place.

“Agnes, say hello.” Hob’s voice dropped several octaves of seriousness, doubling down to a gentle parent tone.

Agnes’s head peaked behind her brother, same brown hair and deep eyes staring right at the innkeeper. She held onto her brothers hand.

“Hello.” She said, her voice small, her eyes almost exclusively pinned to the cracked wooden floor.

“Eh! George come look! It wasent woman he was hiding! He had a sister.” The unreadable expression of the innkeeper’s wife, brighten up. Hob could almost swear he saw literal smiles of joy in them. “Hello pumpkin. Name’s Jane. What’s yours?”

“Agnes.”

“Hello Agnes.”

The older man came from behind the bar, red in the face. He liked Hob. Although young, perhaps Hob was one of the most mature guests the inn had. George wasn’t a man that could easily get swayed by simple pitiful expressions or sympathy callings, he was the owner of an inn after all – brawls between men and their wives alike was inevitable so he had to maintain composure and a steady head.

Yet it was also true that he couldn’t turn away kids ever. It was no secret why. He had a soft spot for them. And right now, the sight of the Gadlings softened him. Previously matured, now Robert resembled nothing more than a child protecting another child. And that made all the difference in the world, even if at the time Robert had no clue.

“Her name’s Agnes, George. I…”

“Go. We’ll take care of her.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“But!”

“Yes?”

“You’re helping whenever I ask.”

“Goes without saying! Thank you so much!”

Agnes didn’t like all that. Loud by nature, the child had gone quiet, holding tightly onto her brother’s shirt.

“Don’t go.”

“Listen, hey. Listen.” Hob crouched, holding the child’s hands tightly in his own. “Jane and George will help you while I’m gone. I will be back before the stars rise in the sky, I promise. I also promise to talk to the fairies and make sure they come, okay?”

Teary eyed, the child jumped on her brother’s neck.

“Promise you’ll be back!”

“I’m always back, okay? You be a good girl and help with everything George and Jane may need? Okay?” The older Gadling extended his pinkie to the younger one. “Promise.”

Without hesitation, a toothy smile graced the kids face as their pinkies hooked.

“Promise.”

Hob ruffled the deep brown locks of Agnes.

“Good. I will be back tonight, you listen!”

“Come on, pumpkin, I will show you what I have in the kitchen. You must be hungry.”

Agnes took on the older woman’s hand as they walked in the kitchen. She was very hungry actually. That day Agnes learned what a pot is and how fire works.

Robert’s day was as uneventful as ever.

No one dared really to come to the property he was protecting, not really. He was what they called a “bought” sword – someone famous for their skills rather than their blood. And Robert was gaining fame for his skills. He was hired at the property from word of mouth between the lord’s at his home village lord through some chain of other lord and so here he was.

At the end of the day, up the hill came the nightly batch of mercenaries and local guards, which simply meant Hob was free. He wanted to get back to the inn as quickly as possible.

“Ey, Gadling!” called out one of the other bought swords.

“Ye?”

“Care for a drink at the White Horse?”

“Not at all! I’m staying there.”

“Eh, look at him, rich as a stuffed Christmas pig.”

“I wouldn’t say so, good saver just.”

Hob was considerably more humble and less arrogant than the other bought swords, yet they all treated him nicely. He was what they called “charmer”. No one could truly hate Robert ‘Hob’ Gadling. Not with his smile.

So that’s how he ended up sitting at the tavern laughing his heart out, little Agnes sitting by his side, her rock and half a stick, neatly put on the table. She had put charcoal on the rock drawing a smile and what resembled eyes.

“What did you do today?” Agnes asked, her feet swinging off the bench.

Since Hob had never really talked about his personal life, they were all extremely confused at the sighting of not one but two Gadlings in the wild. Undeniably siblings on top of that.

“We walked around a bit and then came here.”

“You get paid for walking around?” her little brows furrowed confused. Had it been that easy, she could also do it, had Agnes thought.

The men had found the question hilarious.

“You’re funny kid.” One of the guys pointed at Agnes.

“No, we are paid to protect the people living inside the castle.” Hob explained attentively, petting her hair. She looked a lot calmer than she had bene in the morning. “Eat up, your stew will go cold.”

“You her mother or something, why you so womanly? Shouldn’t she wash dishes or suck someone’s cock. Has she ripen already?” shouted one of the guys from behind them. His name was John – another guard, from the west wing of the castle (Hob and his friends secured the southern gates) ‘Was’ became an important verb in the situation.

“What’da say?” Hob’s voice ran quiet in comparison to the rest of the commotion, but not quiet enough that everyone on the table tensed significantly.

Everyone was aware of the tale of the young Hob Gadling – the deadly sword. Not to be crossed lightly, Hob was an easy target of jealousy in the profession. He was young, famous for his skills and handsome. Said John and his buddies found it especially troubling that someone such as Hob existed. God bless his souls had thought the rest of the people on the table thought.

The bell rang announcing the arrival of two new customers.

“Beauties like her should be ripen early, bear the fruit off early. How much you want for her, I can take her off your hands?” the dirty chump didn’t really know what limits he was threading all so lightly.

“Agnes, go to Jane.” His voice was gentle and non-negotiable. He had only ever talked like this to her once, when their mom had died. It was a tone that allowed no protest and she was aware it was for her greater good so she jumped off the bench running to Jane. Once tucked away and away from harm, Hob’s attention turned back to John. “Repeat what you said. Don’t think about reaching to your sword, just repeat it. Go ahead.”

“I said I want to fuck your little sister and put a baby in her young belly.”

Hob had only ever heard the phrase ‘seeing red’.

“Thank you. I wasn’t sure I was hearing ya correctly. Good that I did. Now? Now I will kill you.”

“Not if I kill you first, you little village scum! You come to our city and think you’re this big shot?! Who the fuck you think you are? You will die here today.”

“I don’t intend on dying. Ever. We only do it because that’s what we know, but what if I don’t? Well, not that it matters to you, you’ll be dead.”

Hob’s hand reached for Agnes’s play rock, raising his hand, ready to strike. He had no doubts. No fears.

He never got to hit John. The body of the other man fell unconsciously on the floor. Behind him was a stranger. Stranger Hob had never laid his eyes upon. His eyes and hair were as dark as the shadows on the deepest night, in perfect contrast with his skin as pale as the brightest of all suns.

“I coulda done that.” Robert pointed out.

“It would’ve been unnecessary Hob Gadling.”

“Have we met?”

“No.”

“How’da know my name?”

The stranger just smiled.

“I heard you saying you do not intend to die?”

“That’s right!” Hob’s friends couldn’t help but laugh.

“Apologise to you good sir, it’s the primal talking.”

“No that is quite alright.” The stranger waved dismissively before turning his attention back on Robert. “You should tell me how it is. Let’s meet in a hundred years here if…we make it.”

Confused and a bit out of his mind Hob rushed to answer. “Okay! I’ll be waiting then!”

“I hope you will.” Without another word the stranger turned around, he walked around the body of the unconscious John. “He will wake up although I suppose it’s up to you if he does. You are in your right to do as you please, Hob Gadling.”

The stranger accompanied by a lady, a nun, walked through the bar back to the door. The rest of the people, having lost interest went back to their drinking. But Hob couldn’t help but notice as the man turned his attention to where Jane and Agnes were standing, looking in disbelief. The stranger did a weird motion, Hob couldn’t really recognize and then left just like he came – quiet.

“Hob, what are we going to do with John?”

“Huh? Ah yeah.” The man was handsome, a noble no doubt Hob thought. “I don’t want his blood on my sword.”

George had materialized as if out of magic behind Hob.

“You listen here,” George was a big man, bigger than any Hob had ever met. His finger was pointed in the direction of the west guards. “If I see you anywhere close to here, I will kill ya cause a him.” His head nodded in John’s direction. “Get outta here.” As the horde of men was dragging their friend out, George grabbed onto Hob’s shoulder. “The little one fell asleep.”

The entire altercation had soured the taste of the ale and marked the end of the night for everyone. Hob had quietly left, holding sleeping Agnes in his arms. He had never thought himself in such a situation. What could prompt a man into such vile thoughts, Robert could never understand.

As he pulled the blanket over his sister’s sleeping body, Robert realised the responsibility he had perhaps for the first time ever – not only towards himself, but towards his own flesh and blood, left alone in the world with no one but him. They were after her when she was so little and she was only bound to become more beautiful and potent to the eyes of men. The words of the stranger appeared in his mind ‘you should tell me how it is’.

“I will.” Robert whispered. He would never die. Not before the world was safe for Agnes. Not before she was settled and the Gadling family name blossomed once more.

Not until then.

Agnes dreamed of fairies that night. The Sandman had made sure of that.

I hope you re-enjoyed it ✨

My asks are open and I'm happy to be the vessel of your desires. You can also follow my Sandman Twitter.

Love,