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a-series-of-whumpy-events · 2 years

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This is the last piece of Gamble I have to upload! I’m doing this from a hotel room in Phoenix, so I really hope it posts okay. I’ve already started working on the next part of this story!

Warnings: aftercare, wound cleaning, field medicine

Taglist: @winedark-whump @whumpers-inc @pepperonyscience @redwingedwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @stab-the-son-of-a @caspia-writes @kim-poce @screechingqueenmentality @nine-tailed-whump @worstcasescenariolullaby @newbornwhumperfly @the-monarch-whumperfly

Gamble Part 4

Sir Myles felt rather like a hunter trying to approach a wounded animal. He doubted Jemmy would attack him, but he could bolt if Sir Myles moved too quickly. Or, worse, he could be so overwhelmed with terror that he couldn’t even register the kindness Sir Myles was determined to show him. Not for the first time, he wondered how many at Castle Drakehold had followed the example of their lord, and if any had shown compassion to Sir Robert’s young Squire. For many reasons, he had his doubts on the latter.

“Sir?” Will’s voice behind him. He felt the young man touch his shoulder. “Are you all right, sir? You’ve been staring at the door like it’ll run if you take your eyes off it.”

“It’s not the door I’m worried about,” Sir Myles answered, turning to face his servant. “How’s Jemmy?”

Will frowned, his eyes troubled. “Looked at me like I was going to eat him, sir. I did my best- just kept rambling on, you know, trying to make him see that I wasn’t going to hurt him, telling him that you and Lady Isabeau were good folk, all that sort of thing. I don’t think it worked, sir, he’s so afraid that I doubt he heard much of what I said, and maybe it just terrified him more. ‘Renzo might have better luck with him, sir, he knows how to calm frightened horses, so maybe it’ll work with a frightened boy-“

“Will,” Sir Myles cut in gently. “Breathe.”

Will’s face reddened. “Sorry, sir. Rambling on again, I was. I just- I’ve never had to deal with this before. You’re a good Knight, sir, you are. There’s never been any reason for someone to be so afraid of you. He wouldn’t even eat, sir. Wouldn’t even look at me. If he’s that afraid of me, I can’t imagine how he is with you.”

“Well, the reason Jemmy’s so afraid is because he’s not used to a good Knight,” Sir Myles replied. He sighed. “Well, no sense in beating about the bush, is there? I’ll see you in the morning, Will. I’d best go in and see if I can calm the lad down a little.”

Will nodded sharply, turning to go. “Tread carefully, sir. The smallest things can set him shaking like a leaf in a gale.”

Sir Myles took a deep breath, just like he had before going in to see Isabeau, and pushed open the door.

The first thing he noticed was that Will had made up a pallet for Jemmy by the fire, just as he’d been instructed, and piled blankets onto it.

The second thing he noticed was that Jemmy, at the creak of the door, shot up and onto his feet.

The third thing he noticed was that Jemmy nearly fell, his leg buckling under him.

“Jemmy!” Instinct won out over caution. He sprang to the boy’s side, steadying him. Jemmy gasped sharply.

“Sorry, lad. Sorry.” He frowned. “Are you hurt, Jemmy?”

“No, sir,” Jemmy answered quickly.

Sir Myles let the boy go, trying to decide how to proceed. He’s lying. He’s hurt in some way. But if I try to get him to tell me the truth, I’ll frighten him. He may even think I want to hurt him, too.

He reached up and ran a hand through his hair. “Jemmy, please tell me the truth. I saw you almost fall when you stood up. Are you hurt?”

“…yes, sir.”

“Where?”

“My back, sir.”

Oh, no. Sir Myles’ heart sank. “Jemmy, take off your shirt, please.”

Jemmy’s small shoulders seemed to fold in on themselves. The boy turned around and sank to his knees at the edge of the pallet, reaching up with shaking hands to pull his shirt over his head.

Mother of God, Sir Myles thought. He had been on the battlefield and had seen plenty of wounds. But rarely did he see injuries like this. Jemmy’s thin back looked as if some beast had clawed it to ribbons. The wounds varied from raised welts to half-healed marks.

“Jemmy, what happened?” he said aloud. He raised a hand and ran his fingers gently over the wounds. The welts burned hot under his touch.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jemmy whispered.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for, lad. Just…why?”

“When…when Sir Robert was training yesterday afternoon. I’m…I was supposed to hold up the shield for him, so he could practice his strokes, and…and I dropped it.”

“You dropped his shield. And you received this as punishment.”

“Yes, sir. I-I’ll try not to drop yours.”

Sir Myles felt sick. A Knight’s shield- even a lightweight one- would be far too heavy for a boy this small and frail. Especially considering that Sir Robert had apparently used his young Squire as target practice. “I saw him strike you, in the arena. Why did he beat you if he had already done that?”

“I dropped his shield, sir. If he had been swinging his sword just then he might have killed me. I-I needed to learn to do better. Just a box on the ear wouldn’t…it wouldn’t have been enough, sir. I’m very stupid.”

Sir Myles’ heart knotted painfully at hearing the boy speak so disparagingly of himself. Those cruel words cut deep, I see. Aloud, he said, “Did Sir Robert beat you often?”

“Yes, sir. Almost…almost every day. But I can still take this, and I’ll try to take it quietly.” Jemmy drew in a shuddering breath, his voice shaking. “I-I’ll do better, sir. I’ll tell the truth next time. I-I know I deserve this for lying, sir, and I’ll never do it again, I promise-“

“Jemmy!” Sir Myles couldn’t hold back his near-shout, shocked at how drastically the boy had misunderstood his intentions.

Jemmy flinched, his arm coming up to shield his face from the blow he clearly expected. “I’m sorry!”

Oh, fire and brimstone, look at what you’ve done now, you great idiot. Sir Myles lowered his voice, trying to reclaim the ground he had just lost. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, lad. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout at you. I was just- Jemmy, why do you think I’m asking you all of these questions?”

“I-I don’t know, sir.” Jemmy lowered his arm, seeming to realize that Sir Myles didn’t intend to strike him. “I’m only supposed to answer when I’m asked.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Sir Myles told him. “I’m not- I’m not like Sir Robert, Jemmy. I’m not going to beat you, I only wanted your shirt off so I could see what he did to you and try to help.” He reached out and touched the welts again, gently. “This? This is wrong. Everything about the way he treated you is wrong. How in the name of all the saints is beating you supposed to make you a good Knight? Which is rather the point of being a Squire, unless Sir Robert neglected to mention that part.”

“He- he did mention it, sir,” Jemmy whispered. “He said that a Knight must be strong. I’m not strong, sir, I can’t even take it without crying out. I’ll try to, though. I-I promise.”

Has he heard a word I’ve said to him? Sir Myles bit down his frustration, knowing that Jemmy would read it as anger directed at him. Like as not he simply doesn’t understand. Maybe I’ve taken things too quickly. Instead of merely telling him that he’ll be treated better here, I should show him. That sounds right.

Criminy. I have no idea what I’m doing.

“Did Will leave some wine over there with the rest of it?” he asked, swiftly changing the subject. “I’d like to clean and bandage these welts before you go to sleep, and wine does a better job than water. It may sting some, but it’ll help them heal.”

“I-I’m not sure what he brought, sir.”

Sir Myles got up and went to check, finding a flagon of wine standing on the little table. “Ah, perfect.” He crouched down behind Jemmy again. “Now, before I start this, lad, I need to know- are you hurt anywhere else? Tell me the truth.”

“I- yes, sir, I think. But it’s only the ones on my back that actually hurt. The ones on my legs don’t hurt very much anymore. That was almost a week ago.”

Sir Myles sighed. Of course there’s more. How many ways did Sir Robert punish this boy? He didn’t ask why that had happened. “I’ll leave those be until tomorrow, then.”

A sharp black anger had begun to swell up in Sir Myles’ chest. He’d never dreamed of having to deal with something like this. He’d never known a Knight- sworn to protect the weak and to act chivalrously at all times- could be so cruel. And he had a terrible feeling that there had been other things done to Jemmy which he would find out about later. The scar on his face was evidence enough of that.

“All right, Jemmy. I’m going to start now. I’ll be as gentle as I can, but if you need me to stop, just tell me, all right?”

“Yes, sir.”

Medicine, thankfully, was something Sir Myles was relatively skilled at, even if his particular brand was on the rougher, field-medicine side. He understood how to care for someone’s injuries.

He didn’t understand how to help someone who thought he would cause more of them. I am in so far over my head.

It was the first night. Only the first night, and he had already made Jemmy think he would beat him. I made him take his shirt off right after he said he wasn’t hurt when he was. What else would he assume I was going to do? Why didn’t I explain from the beginning that I wanted to help?

Sir Myles worked carefully and quickly, sponging the wine into any open cuts and across the rest of the wounds. Jemmy was very still beneath his hands, hardly daring to breathe. Sir Myles could almost feel the terror dripping from him like the wine dripping down his back. The color of the liquid was rather unfortunate- the dark red looked a little too much like blood.

Is this what Sir Robert saw every time he hurt Jemmy? Did he feel any remorse at all?

And how, how do I help this poor boy?

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Read the previous part here!

#piper writes whump #whump #whump writing #historical whump #medieval whump #aftercare #aftercare tw #wound cleaning #wound cleaning tw #field medicine #field medicine tw #jemmy rey #sir myles peregrine #gamble

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a-series-of-whumpy-events · 2 years

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Ah, I remember writing this in the back of a car while my sister took a left turn like a NASCAR driver in a church parking lot. Three-way driving lessons = writing time but also unpredictable speed changes and turns.

Anyway, here’s the next part of Gamble! Ugh, I love this series so much.

Warnings: minor discussions of violence

Gamble Part 2

Sir Myles stroked Johara’s nose, laughing as the mare pushed into his palm. “You can handle a bit more weight today, can’t you, my beautiful?” She whinnied, tossing her head. “Well, seeing as how I can’t tell if that’s a yes or a no, we’ll throw in some extra oats tonight and call it even, hmm?”

“She’s a beautiful horse,” Sir Robert remarked, coming up from behind Sir Myles. “You breed them yourself?”

“Yes, my Arabians are my passion,” Sir Myles answered. “Not as big or strong as your warhorses, but there’s nothing like them for speed. My stallion, Malik, is the fastest I’ve ever seen.”

“That is the downside of my warhorses- they’re such large creatures that their speed leaves something to be desired,” Sir Robert agreed. He reached out to pet Johara’s nose. “She really is a beauty. I’d have been honored to win her.”

“Until that last roll, I was certain you would. You’re an excellent dice player.”

“You as well. Unfortunately for you, I would not count it as lucky to take the prize you won. My Squire is…the word obstinate comes to mind. Can’t get him to do anything, and most of what he does is done wrong. I’m afraid you’ve got the bad end of our deal, Sir Myles.”

Sir Myles kept smiling, wondering how many times the little Squire had heard such cruel words. “I’ll manage, Sir Robert.”

“I’m sure. Let me fetch the lad while you finish with your horse.”

Sir Myles waited until the man’s footsteps faded away, then sighed, leaning his head against Johara’s shoulder. “This is going to be a rough one, eh, my beautiful? And of course I still need to worry about what Beau will say.”

He put aside his thoughts and turned his attention to getting Johara ready to leave Castle Drakehold. She stood still and patient while he tacked her up, only shifting a little. Sir Myles made sure to pet and praise her as he worked. She seemed excited to leave, stamping when he opened the stall door and tossing her head up and down as he led her from the stable. “I know, my beautiful, you’re eager to be home,” Sir Myles said to calm her, running his fingers through Johara’s mane.

“She’s even more lovely in the sun,” Sir Robert’s now-familiar voice rang out. “Ah, we’ll have to play another game of dice sometime. I’d love another chance at winning her.”

Sir Myles smiled. “I would certainly not turn that down,” he said, his eyes on the small figure trailing after Sir Robert.

Sir Robert stepped forward and held out an arm, and the two Knights shook hands. “I hope to see you again sometime,” Sir Robert declared.

“Same to you,” Sir Myles said, keeping his smile up. He put his foot in the stirrup and settled himself onto Johara’s back. “Perhaps next time at my castle?”

“I’d be happy to take you up on that.” Sir Robert grabbed the boy and shoved him forward. “As promised, sir, your prize.”

Sir Myles glanced over the boy, his heart aching at the many little things that seemed so wrong on him- the faded blue and white livery hanging loosely off of him, the dark bruise staining his freckled face, the pale scar that traced across his left cheek and down through the edge of his mouth. He shifted backward, making room for the boy in front of him, but Sir Robert waved his hand. “There’s no need for that. The lad can walk. He’s stronger than he seems.”

I highly doubt that. In front of the other Knight, however, Sir Myles shrugged carelessly. “I suppose we should be off, then. Isabeau will stay up waiting for me, and we’re likely to get there after dark anyways. Luckily my castle isn’t too far away.”

“I look forward to seeing you again,” Sir Robert said. He pushed the little Squire forward. The boy hesitated a moment, and Sir Robert raised a hand. The boy flinched and scurried to Johara, eyeing the horse nervously.

“Fare thee well!” Sir Robert called.

Sir Myles waved and nudged Johara’s side. “Come on, girl. Let’s get home.” Johara nickered and started into a trot, the little Squire following a few feet behind her.

Sir Myles waited about ten minutes, until they turned a sharp curve that blocked them from sight of Castle Drakehold, and pulled Johara to a halt, dismounting. Cautiously, he approached the boy, holding out a hand. “Come on, lad. I’ll not make you walk the whole way back to my castle.”

The boy glanced nervously at Johara. “Afraid of horses? Johara’s gentle as a kitten. She won’t throw you. And you’ll sit right in front of me- no danger of falling.”

The little Squire bit his lip, but he obediently followed Sir Myles to the horse. He let out a tiny squeak of fear as Sir Myles lifted him onto Johara’s back. He’s trembling, poor thing. And he weighs about as much as a small bird! I’m glad I got him away from Sir Robert, even if Isabeau doesn’t approve.

Sir Myles waited until the boy settled in, clutching at strands of Johara’s mane. “Comfortable?”

“Y-yes, sir.” The Squire had a small, thin voice to match his small, thin frame, and the same accent as Sir Robert.

Sir Myles leapt up behind him, gently nudging Johara into a slightly slower pace. “I suppose we ought to get to know each other,” he said. “I’m Sir Myles Peregrine. Would you tell me your name?”

Oddly, the boy flinched at that. “James, sir. James Rey.”

“Pleasure to meet you, James.”

James shrank into himself as Sir Myles addressed him by name. Hmm. Sir Myles’ brow furrowed.

“I’m not going to hurt you, James,” he said softly. “I’m not like Sir Robert. I’ve never had a Squire before- I can’t say I’ll be perfect at it. But I saw the way he treated you. That’s not how a Knight acts. I swore when I was Knighted to never act in unfairness, cruelty, or deceit. Sir Robert swore the same Oath, but he has clearly broken it.” Sir Myles sighed. “I won’t tell you not to be afraid of me. That will come with time. I simply want to assure you that you’re safe now. I am not going to hurt you, James, and neither will anyone in my castle. I swear it.”

He saw the boy’s hands clench into fists briefly, and then loosen as he squared his thin shoulders. “My…my name isn’t James,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Well, it is…but…Mum always called me Jemmy. Sir…Sir Robert said I had to be James.” He ducked his head, hiding his face behind sandy curls. “I…I don’t like being James very much.”

“Would you like me to call you Jemmy?”

The boy nodded hesitantly, his eyes fixed between Johara’s ears.

Sir Myles smiled a bit. “Then Jemmy you shall be.”

He wasn’t sure, but he thought the smallest bit of the fear seeping from Jemmy’s every pore faded just slightly.

—————————————————————

Just as Sir Myles had predicted, Castle Forêtcolline came into view just as the sun slipped behind the trees. Sir Myles sighed, urging Johara on a little faster. “My home, Castle Forêtcolline,” he said to Jemmy. “Not as large as Castle Drakehold, certainly. But it’s a beautiful place, with the river and all.”

Johara’s hooves thumped gently on the grass as Sir Myles guided her through the arched entrance to the castle. He looked around fondly, smiling as he slipped off of Johara’s back.

“Sir Myles!” Two young men hurried across the courtyard, one red-cheeked and ruddy, the other with tawny skin and hair as black as Sir Myles’ own, both dressed in livery of purple and yellow. The taller, darker one went immediately to Johara’s head, petting her and whispering to her in Spanish. The shorter one began unloading the horse, lifting the bags with ease. “How was your trip, sir?”

“Excellent, thank you, Timothy.” Sir Myles stepped out of the way. “Has either of you ever heard of a Sir Robert Drake?”

“Can’t say I have,” Timothy replied. “Lorenzo? Does Sir Robert Drake sound familiar?”

Lorenzo shook his head. “Is that who you stayed with last night, sir? The lady was worried for you.”

Of course she was, Sir Myles thought, letting a rather lovesick grin slip onto his face.

“I’ll go and tell her you’ve returned before I take Johara back to the stables,” Lorenzo said.

Timothy reached for another bag and seemed to finally notice Jemmy. “Hello,” he said, flashing a grin. “Sir Myles, you seem to have picked up a stray.”

“Timothy,” Lorenzo cut in, his voice firm. When the other boy looked at him, Lorenzo shook his head. Timothy’s expression turned confused for a moment before he nodded and let Jemmy be.

Sir Myles gave Lorenzo an approving glance and moved over to Johara. “Come on, lad. Let’s get you down from there.”

Jemmy slipped from the saddle fairly easily, but he stumbled when his feet hit the ground, and Sir Myles quickly steadied him. Jemmy flinched at his touch, so he let the boy go as soon as he was sure he wouldn’t fall.

Sir Myles gestured to Timothy, moving over to the other side of the courtyard. “You didn’t do anything wrong, lad. He’s just very skittish right now. It was a…bad situation I pulled him out of.”

“I can see that,” Timothy replied, his usual cheerful face painted with a frown. “He reminds me of the puppy ‘Renzo rescued from the trapper last year. You could tell that dog was used to being whipped. Poor thing was too scared to even try to bite and bark.”

“That’s an apt description, I’m afraid.” Sir Myles sighed. “Look, go upstairs and see if you can find Will. Have him make up a bed for the boy in my room- somewhere near the fire, I think, this night air can’t be good for him. And tell him to bring up some food, too.” He rubbed his thumb over his fist again. “I’ll take Jemmy to see Isabeau.”

“The lady’s not one to shout and scream when she don’t like something,” Timothy said, his grin returning. “But if she don’t approve of this, you’ll be in a heap of trouble.”

Sir Myles heaved another sigh. “Don’t I know it.”

He stood outside of Isabeau’s door for nearly five minutes when he went to see her, turning over in his mind just how reckless a decision he had made. He and Isabeau had separate chambers as well as a shared one, and whenever he was away she came here. He bit his lip, pressed a finger to his lips to signal Jemmy to be quiet, and opened the door as silently as he could.

Isabeau sat with her back to the door, writing. Myles gestured for Jemmy to follow him, slipped behind her, and wrapped his hands around her eyes. “I’ve brought back a surprise,” he said, his voice teasing. “Guess what it is.”

“Oh, Myles, how can I possibly-“

“It’s alive, love of my heart.”

“Alive? It had better not be another bird, I am sick and tired of them having the bad grace to die two days after we start to nurse them.”

“Not a bird.”

“A squirrel?”

“Considerably bigger than a squirrel, I’d say.”

“Myles, you didn’t buy another dog.”

“Bigger, though not by much.”

“Bigger than- if I turn around to find a horse in my chamber, you and the horse may both spend the night in the barn.”

Myles laughed. “Smaller than that, don’t you worry.”

“Oh, Myles, what is it?”

He turned her around and uncovered her eyes.

Isabeau gasped. “Oh! Oh, Myles!” She leapt up, snatching a scarf from the table and hastily tying it over her pale hair. “Heaven preserve us, Myles, what have you done?”

“I seem to have found myself with a Squire, my heart.” He brought Jemmy forward, again feeling him cringe at the contact and letting him go as soon as possible. “This is Jemmy Rey.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Isabeau breathed. She still seemed in shock.

Luckily, Will, Sir Myles’ servant, appeared in the doorway. “Everything’s arranged, sir,” he said. “Would you like me to take the lad now?”

“I think that might be for the best,” Sir Myles agreed. He needed to explain to Isabeau.

Jemmy still looked terrified. Sir Myles knelt down so he could look into the boy’s face. “I want you to go with Will, all right? He’s not going to hurt you, I promise. He’s going to give you something to eat and show you where you can sleep tonight.”

Jemmy nodded jerkily, his eyes on the ground. Sir Myles’ heart throbbed again at the fear that still ran through the boy. What did Sir Robert do to you?

Jemmy obediently followed Will out of the room, his head down. Sir Myles heaved a deep breath and turned to Isabeau.

She looked stricken. “Where did you find him, Myles? The poor lad’s afraid of his own shadow!”

“That was why I had to rescue him,” Sir Myles said. He sat down on the bed, and Isabeau joined him, folding her hands in her lap and untying her scarf, letting her hair spill over her shoulders.

“All right, Myles. I’ve never known you to make a foolish decision, so why don’t you explain yourself?

Sir Myles shifted. “I stayed at the castle of a Knight called Sir Robert Drake last night,” he told her. “We actually got along quite well. He’s a charming man, and very handsome.”

“Should I be worried about this fellow taking my place?” Isabeau teased.

“I could never break my vows to you, not for any handsome knight or beautiful damsel,” he told her. “He was handsome, though.”

“Where does Jemmy come into all of this?”

“Jemmy was Sir Robert’s Squire, and Sir Robert treated him so cruelly that I could hardly believe my eyes. Right in front of me, too, as if it was hardly a thing to be ashamed of! Almost as if he expected me to be impressed by how harsh he was with Jemmy.”

“I saw the bruise on his face,” Isabeau said softly.

“He received that when Sir Robert backhanded him so hard it sent him into the wall.” Sir Myles ran his thumb over his fist again, and Isabeau gently laid her hand atop his. “He said such terrible things about Jemmy, called him a simpleton, a blockhead, said he was lazy and disobedient. All through supper he kept up a barrage of insults, and blows, too. Jemmy looked as if he was about to cry, the poor lad.”

“So how did you get him, Myles? Knights don’t simply give their Squires to other Knights.”

“Sir Robert did,” Sir Myles answered. “In a sense, anyway. I…I played dice with him after supper.”

“Myles.”

“I know, I know. It was just to try and save the boy, I swear! I could hardly believe Sir Myles was even willing to wager his Squire. Although I confess I did wait until he was drunk.”

“So what did you bet?”

Sir Myles coughed. “Er…Johara.”

“Myles!”

“What else was I supposed to do, Beau? I couldn’t leave Jemmy there!”

“You bet one of your best horses on a game of dice to try to save one abused boy?”

“Yes.”

Isabeau sighed. “Myles…in some ways, I am proud of you for that, and in others, I am not. Even from meeting him briefly I can see that Jemmy has been through too much suffering. But you told me a few months ago you weren’t ready to take on a Squire.”

“I still don’t know if I am,” Sir Myles admitted. “But Jemmy needed my help. I swore to protect the weak and defenseless, and if taking him as my Squire was the only way to protect Jemmy, then I feel I must.”

“I’m still unsure about the whole matter.” Isabeau ran her hands through her hair. “But I support you in your decision. Just don’t make a habit of bringing home strays. Animals, I don’t mind. But people?” She laid her head on his shoulder. “Though I suppose it might be good to have a younger face about the castle.” Her voice had turned wistful, a shade of sorrow in it.

“Isabeau, I did not marry you to bear me sons and daughters. I married you, not what you can give me. You are enough for me, love of my heart.”

She kissed him at that. “And you are enough for me, my reckless, gambling, overly compassionate husband. Now, why don’t you go and see to the boy? He must still be frightened.”

“You don’t want me to stay with you?”

Isabeau shook her head. “One more night without your company will be endurable, I think. You’ve brought Jemmy back. You should care for him, at least this first night. I think he needs you more than I do- and more than he knows, the poor lad.” She flashed him a smile. “Besides, I have rather enjoyed these past few nights of quiet, without your snoring to keep me up.”

“Isabeau, I don’t snore!”

Laughing, Isabeau sprang off of the bed and shooed Sir Myles out of the room.

———————————————————————

Read the previous part here!

#piper writes whump #whump #whump writing #historical whump #medieval whump #sir myles peregrine #sir robert drake #jemmy rey #gamble

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