For Love or Money by Lady MSM

I Run Away From Home

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For Love or Money

Chapter 1: I Run Away from Home

            My father’s second wife is evil.

            If she weren’t, I wouldn’t be out in the country on a horse I “borrowed” from my father in the pouring rain right now.

            To be perfectly honest, I have no idea where I am. Usually I’m not allowed to leave Fish Hill (that’s my nickname for Tuna that I came up with myself, no matter who else would like to claim the honor), and I’m definitely not supposed to wander off into the countryside by myself. But I am nineteen—I think I’m old enough to look out for myself.

            I wouldn’t even be here right now if it weren’t for my uptight drama queen of a stepmother. You see, last night I was supposed to look after my endlessly irritating half-brothers, since it was the nanny’s night off and apparently no one remembered that I might already have plans. Coincidentally, I did already have plans—some of the fellows and I were going to have a bonfire—and so I went to that. I figured the brats would be fine—after all, there were plenty of other servants around to look after them.

            Then Indis found out. And Eru Almighty, was she angry. I don’t think I’m flattering myself when I say that I’m pretty scary when I’m mad, but I look like a mild-mannered sheep compared to my stepmother. What happened? She told me that I’m a spoiled, ungrateful brat who didn’t deserve to live under her roof, and when I told her that it wasn’t technically her roof and that I’d lived here longer than she had, she screamed, “GET OUT OF HERE!”

            So I did.

            I figure I’ll just ride around for a while, maybe stop at an inn or something, and then go back home once Indis has cooled off. It might take a while. Once when I made her angry she didn’t speak to me for a week. That was a good week.

As for Father, well, he’ll understand. I hope.

            It’s been almost all day since I left home, I think, and I haven’t seen the slightest sign of civilization yet, which bothers me. I’m a city boy at heart, and going for too long without seeing another person kind of creeps me out. Then again, in this rain, I can’t really see anything.

            Wait…is that a light ahead? Eru’s arse, I think it is! Actually, now that’s I’m getting closer, it looks like several lights. Probably a small farm village. Thank the Gods. At least I’ll be able to get something to eat and a place to stay. Although I hear you sometimes get fleas in the beds at country inns.

            After trying to find my way around for a while, I finally park my horse in front of a small inn called the Sheep and Fiddle. I can’t help but smirk at the name. I swear, these country people are so…cute.

            Inside, I’m hit with the smell of whiskey and mutton (that takes care of the sheep part, I suppose) and the sound of someone playing the fiddle (which takes care of the fiddle part). This place is certainly living up to its name. Judging from the accents of the people here, I rode way farther than I thought I did—I’m probably somewhere in the Northeast by now.

            I go up to the landlady—a dark-haired woman in a stained apron who’s in the process of pouring someone a drink—and ask her if I can have a room.

            “Sure and ye can’t, laddie,” she says. “We’re that full that there’s not a single room left in the place.”

            “Oh,” I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. I’ve never been to an inn that didn’t have a room open before. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever been in an inn before. “What should I do, then?”

            “Ah, don’t ye worry, love. Ye look like a decent lad and so I’m sure one of the families around here will let ye board with ‘em for a few days. I’ll ask some of the girls that work here if they know of anyone that’s got room.”

            “The poor bugger could stay with Mahtan’s family,” suggests a pretty brunette barmaid. “Eru knows they’ve got enough room in that big house for ‘im.”

            Mahtan? The name sounds slightly familiar, but I don’t have time to think about it right now. Instead I just cross my fingers and pray to all the Gods that I’ll be able to find a room somewhere, because otherwise I’ll probably be sleeping in the street. And I’d rather not do that in this weather.

             “Aye, that they do.  Oy, Mahtan!” yells the landlady. “Do ye have room for a boarder in that mansion o’ yours?”

            “What sort of boarder?” replies a guy from across the room…a slightly odd-looking gent, I have to say, what with his unusually red hair and slight beard. Evidently this is Mahtan.

            “This here boy,” says the landlady. “He’s got money…ye do have money, don’t ye, love?”

            “Of course I have money,” I say, a bit offended. I’m about to mention that no king’s son would ever leave home without some coins in his pocket, but then I remember that no one here knows I’m royalty. I think we should keep it that way for now.

            “Right, then, he’s got money and he’s got nowhere else to stay, and he seems like a nice lad, so take him in for a few nights, would ye?”

            Apparently I’ve gotten the landlady on my side. This is probably a good thing.

            “Well, now, I don’t know…” says Mahtan. “I’m not sure that I’m wantin’ some young rapscallion in me house.”

            “Oh, come off it, Mahtan,” says one of the fellows sitting next to him. “Ye know perfectly well that ye don’t care what this lad does as long as he keeps his hands off yer daughter!”

            There’s a general roar of laughter, and Mahtan shakes his head. “Aye, that’s true enough. All right, laddie, two silver a night and keep yer hands off me daughter, and ye can stay as long as ye like, what do ye say?”

            I think it over for a moment. Do I really want to board in some stranger’s house in Northeastern village I don’t know the name of, and what if I don’t want to keep my hands off Mahtan’s daughter?

            But then I think, what have I got to lose? At least there probably aren’t fleas in his beds.

            “I’m in,” I say.