“Is it pity, then, that made Master Anarawd hire me?”

“He saw your worth. And now you belong to him.”

I rear back at his word choice. “I don’t belong to him. I’m a hired employee. I can leave whenever I want.”

“Not anymore, you can’t. The moment you apprenticed yourself to him, you became indebted to him. Master Anarawd owns you now.”

Owns me?

The words send a chill down my spine. “No. He can’t own me.” I shake my head, refuting Gar’s words. “I agreed to work with him for room and board.”

“Which Anarawd considers worth more than your work. Your debt grows, with no way to repay it. Unless someone else hires you and pays him recompense for the loss.”

That was not part of my plan.

Gar jumps down. “You have a roof over your head and food to eat. Forget the rest.”

But how can I forget? I have no horse and I’m not free. Will I have to flee in the night?

To where?

We move the cart together, and I wince as my bare feet bump over rocks and hard ground. Gar wears a pair of leather shoes with laces tied over his breeches. That probably helps his feet.

“Here’s the stable.” He leads us into a small wooden structure. “The horses are in the meadow, but it’s still cold enough at night we put them away.”

“And when it’s hot?”

“They’re allowed to roam. But we leave this open, and a lot of them prefer to sleep here.”

I look out the door and see five horses grazing, tails swishing as they eat.

“We store the hay here.” Gar takes a bail and carries it up a ladder, then drops it on a ledge. “We’ll need it come winter, when there’s not fresh grass for them to eat. And sometimes when they’ve come in from travel, we feed them before they sleep. Here’s the grain.” He steps up to a barrel and dips his hand in, then pulls out barley berries. He lets them sift through his fingers. “We loan them out to the king and his horsemen on a regular basis. You’ll learn which horses the Equites prefer.”

“The Equites?”

“That’s what the King calls his specially trained soldiers.”

I watch him, still wondering about how he ended up in Caerleon. “Where’s your family from?”

His fist closes around the grain. He doesn’t look at me as he says, “They are dead.”

I know that much from his earlier comments. “I mean, how did you—” I break off my words. He knows what I mean, and he chose not to answer. “I’m sorry.”

“The day is yours,” he says, and he’s not rude, but his tone is crisp. “Dinner should be on the table at midday. Eat what you can. Supper is not guaranteed. Be back in the house before sundown.”

I nod and then scurry away, abashed by the change in Gar’s demeanor. A change I caused.

While I’m immensely curious about how he ended up here in Caerleon, I know better than to ask him again.

And now I have a few precious hours to myself where I can seek out the king. Which has become more important than ever, if I’m locked into employment with the horse master. The king might be the only one who can save me.

I run through the house, pausing long enough at the table to tear off a chunk of bread and a piece of cheese, and then I’m through the house and onto the street. My toes stub against the rough cobblestone. My feet are bruised from walking on the hard surface. They are accustomed to packed dirt and soft hay, the surface material usually found back home. I slow down, taking care with each step but still moving at a quick pace.

The guard at the entrance to the palisades says nothing to me when I come through. The ground of the courtyard is softer, dirt for the king’s men to train, a fence separating the courtyard from the meadow behind Master Anaward’s house.

In front of me rises the stone structure of King Wthyr’s house. The style is Roman, leftover from the days of the soldiers. The bottom is constructed of rough hewn rock like the large room, while the top is wood. The two stories are large enough to hold several rooms.

But it’s the great hall in front of the house that interests me. Here is where the king will hold court with his subjects. It’s lined with small arched windows and a set of doors at one end. Guards flank either side, though they don’t wear helmets and only hold a spear in each hand.

I quicken my pace, grabbing at my tunic, though it’s shortened now and doesn’t require me to lift the hem so I can move faster. Just as I reach the door, the guards focus on me, and in an instant their spears cross, baring me entry.

“I wish to speak with the king,” I say, holding my voice steady.

“He’s closed court for the day,” the first guard says.

“It’s barely midday,” I say.

“Right you are,” the man says, and he grins, showing a mouth with few teeth and black rot on the remaining ones.

“I’ll be fast,” I say. “It’s a quick matter.”

“Court is closed,” the guard repeats, his voice becoming more firm. “The king will not speak with you.”

I consider darting past the guards, but I doubt the king will see me if I cause a disturbance at his door. “Does he open later?”

The two of them exchange amused smiles.

“Tomorrow,” the second says. “He only listens in the hours before dinner. And if he’s tired, he closes early.”

“I’ll come first thing tomorrow,” I say, wondering how I will get out of my morning chores. “I’ll be here.”

“You needn’t bother, lad,” the second says, looking me up and down. “He won’t see you.”

I frown at him. “My request is urgent. And it pertains to the safety of Caerleon.”

I expect a reaction at that, but he doesn’t bat an eye.

“So they all say. But you’re just a servant. If you have a request, your master must bring it here for you.”

“How do you know I’m a servant?”

He nods at my chest. “You wear a crest.”

I look down and see the rock Master Anarawd put on me. If I take it off, will they let me through? “But my master sent me to do this errand for him.”

“Seeing the king isn’t something an errand boy does,” the guard says. “It’s insulting to the king. Your master would know better.”

My heart sinks. They know I just lied, then. I try again. “And if I weren’t a servant?”

He scowls at me. He must know what I’m attempting to do. “Free men are allowed to pass. But their pedigree must be proven with the clerk before their plea will be heard.”

“Even if they are from another kingdom?”

“The king does not hear subjects from neighboring kingdoms.”

I should have thought of that. What does he care what happens nearby?

Unless it could endanger his own kingdom.

How can I make him care?

I turn around and walk back toward Master Anarawd’s house, slower this time because the urgency has passed.

King Wthyr does not make it easy to get an audience.