His Golden Rose

The sun awakened and promptly emerged through the hazy sky. Its cloudy layer created a pleasant blanket, concealing the vegetation beneath from the sun’s raging rays.

It was simply too early for the clouds to completely clear away, and the gentle breeze provided a cool air supported by the sweet lullaby of tweeting birds and the rustling of tree branches.

Since it was morning, people poured from their homes and walked in different directions, hurrying to their posts while a few could be seen working on their small farms beside their homes.

Among the people walking around was a scruffy-looking man who looked to be walking from the direction of town.

He was about six feet, two inches tall and dressed in a pair of worn-out khaki pants with high boots and a long-sleeved tunic.

His sandy-beige complexion shone under the morning sun while his shoulder-length dark curly hair was tied back in a man bun.

He walked past a few people—who were heading to town since not everyone was a farmer—while his free eye keenly scanned the area.

It was his first time to set foot in Überlingen, and his new neighborhood at the fief section of the imperial city was far worse than he’d imagined.

Everything he’d seen so far since he’d started his journey wasn’t as satisfying as he thought it would be. But one can’t choose their reality nor life.

He couldn’t turn back. He had to face his new life whether he liked it or not.

“MAX!”

He froze in his tracks, turned his head to the source of the voice, and instantly spotted a blond freckled man running past a few people toward him.

He shook his head and slowly continued in his tracks, knowing full well the man could catch up. It didn’t take long for the blond man to reach him and walk alongside him.

“Couldn’t you wait a mere five minutes for me?” the man complained as he panted from the exercise.

“It looks like you took more than five minutes.”

“No, I didn’t. You could have at least walked a tad slower? I thought I lost you back there!”

“This is how I walk, Enderl. I can’t help it.” He paused. “In fact, my satchel is kind of heavy.” He patted his bag. “It’d wear me out if I stood about all the time.”

Lies. Max couldn’t stand Enderl.

Enderl shrugged. “All right. We’re not far from the house, anyway.”

He paused as he concentrated on the area in front of them, then raised his hand, motioning toward a well not far from where they were. “There—do you see that well?”

Max followed his gaze and easily spotted it. “Yes.” He nodded.

“The house is right around the corner over there, third to your left,” Enderl explained as they walked in that direction.

Max nodded.

“I’m sorry to ask this, but why did you choose this place? It sure looks like you’ve saved enough to find a place in town, and you don’t strike me as a farmer,” Enderl inquired.

“It’s a new start,” Max responded while looking at the ground, feeling slightly self-conscious.

He occasionally spotted a few people casting curious glances at him, and it irked him in a way.

The eye patch on his face had always caused unwanted attention; it wasn’t something one would enjoy. Some people refrained from even speaking to him, all in the name of his disability.

That’s one of the reasons he liked to be alone. He wasn’t a social person.

Enderl shrugged, sensing Max didn’t want to talk. “Okay.”

Enderl had received a letter from his cousin back in Heiligenberg asking him to help the strange man out.

He’d thought his guest would want to settle in town just like everybody else and try the salt trade or something interesting, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

Max sought work in one of the Fürstenberg manors. He fancied himself good at taking care of horses and the stables.

He seemed to have a way with words, or perhaps he did indeed have good experience to get himself hired immediately and given a shack on their land.

Since he wasn’t familiar with the place yet, Enderl tagged along just to make sure Max was settled before leaving him to his new life.

Finally, they reached the house, and Max looked at it warily.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Max asked, his eye never leaving the seemingly one-room hut.

It was made of logs held together with mud, and it had a thatched roof. What did he expect? All the houses in the area were similar—wattle-and-daub cruck houses.

“Yes. This is the only empty hut in the area, according to the man I asked back there while you were busy ditching my ass.”

Max weakly sighed, “All right.”

“Are you sure about this, though? You don’t look like you’ve lived in such a place before,” Enderl observed.

“I don’t have a choice,” Max responded, slowly ascending the threshold as he opened his new house’s door.

He reached for it and pushed it open before striding in with Enderl following closely behind.

There was nothing much inside. Max spotted a three-legged stool in the middle of the room beside two stools and a small table. At the furthest corner of the room was a straw bed covered with a leather toss.

Max looked up and spotted a hole in the roof for the smoke to get out when he cooked. “Well,” he murmured.

What if it rains? he thought as he continued to stare up.

“Lovely,” Enderl commented. “Well, now that you’re settled, it’s high time for me to scram.”

Max smiled as he turned to meet Enderl’s gaze. “So soon? I thought you’d spend the rest of the day.”

The blond man smirked. He’d fought all his life to get away from that pigsty—he wasn’t spending any minute longer.

He’d done what he had to do, and Max seemed to be satisfied with his crappy life. Enderl had more important things to do.

“No, sorry.” His eyes scanned the room once again. “I have things to do.”

“All right.”

“Yeah…so…” He tore his gaze from the roof. “I best be off. It was nice meeting you, Max. I wish you all the best.” He extended his hand to Max, who readily accepted and gently shook it.

“Thanks, you too.”

They parted, nodding at one another before the blond man walked out of the house as quickly as he could.

Max smiled knowingly as he turned around to view his new home once again.

Sometimes the best lessons are taught in a hard way. Life is experience. Knowledge is experience.

Once you have nothing, that’s when you get to learn the nature of everyone around you. Once you are a nobody, that’s when you get to learn the true nature of all who surround you.

His reality was harsh, but he was satisfied. After the past year of constantly moving, he hoped he was in the right place. A place where he’d live peacefully.

A place that, even though horrible, would give meaning to his boring life.

He sighed and pushed his legs toward the small table before putting his bag down on it. He was free for the rest of the day, so he had to make sure everything was settled before the next day.

He needed at least two buckets of water, a basin, two cups for ale, possibly a jug, bread, and cheese.

He briefly turned to look at the pot near the firepit and shook his head. He couldn’t cook to save his life, so that area would have to stay the way it was for a while.

He eyed his bed; he needed to work on it before it darkened. He was sure it was infested with lice, fleas, and all types of bugs.

Who knows, somebody might have even crushed on there before he’d arrived—which reminded him…

He opened his bag and plunged his hand inside, fishing out two door bolts, a small hammer, and a couple of nuts.

“Security first,” he murmured and started for the door.

A few minutes later, he tested the new locks on his door and nodded with satisfaction.

Max went back to his bag, pulled out a khaki jerkin, and slid it on. He then wrapped and tied a long, thin sash around his torso and tied his coin pouch’s strings to it.

After making sure it was properly secured, he fished out his dagger from the satchel and slid it on under his clothes, just for security.

One might wonder who would want to attack or rob a poor peasant, but life teaches never to underestimate.

He recalled having previously run into a few thugs and his dagger had always been helpful.

Let the nobilities walk with swords—they have more to protect, he thought.

He closed his bag and took a last glance around before making his way toward the door. He paused by the entrance and cast his gaze to his far right.

He could see Lake Constance in its morning glory; the shining blue sky illuminated the sparkling water, taking his breath away with its rich blue color, thanks to the clear sky.

Blue had always been his favorite color. His lips curved up into a smile—he had just found his favorite spot.

It wasn’t far from his hut—it would probably take a mere ten to twenty minutes to reach there, and that was nothing to him. He loved brief walks.

With that particular pleasing thought, he locked his door and made his way to the marketplace. He’d seen it earlier when he was on his way, and it wasn’t that far from where he was.

If he hurried, he’d make it just in time for brunch. He was starving!

***

Rosamund was among a few ladies who stood by the well, waiting for their turns to fetch water.

She was right behind a dark-haired girl who was pulling a full bucket up from the edge of the well whilst a couple of girls behind her amused themselves by gossiping.

“Ah... I almost forgot!” one of them exclaimed. “Did you see the man who just moved in this morning?”

A couple of curious responses fueled the girl’s excitement to tell more.

“Why, right over there!” She motioned toward a corner of one of the streets. “There has been an empty house on the left side of that street. I think that’s where he moved in.”

“Another poor guy in an endless sea of poor men in this place,” a brown-eyed brunette commented with a bored expression. A few others murmured their agreement.

“Tell us if he’s at least cute? That’d be some kind of news,” a blonde girl said.

“Ughh... he could be, if he had both eyes,” the first girl responded, causing a few of them to gasp whilst Rosamund frowned.

“He’s disabled? I mean, he’s blind?” the blonde asked.

“I think so... yes. He has only one eye. He wears an eye patch to conceal the other. It must be a horrible sight. Thank goodness he wears it.”

“Well, that’s a disappointment,” another girl chirped in.

“I know, it’s a shame because he could have been quite handsome. He’s tall and very nicely built. But he’s just too ruggish and dirty for my liking.”

Rosamund shook her head with a sigh. One had to have something in order to be admired—it disgusted her.

She felt relieved when the dark-haired girl in front of her moved aside. The girl had already filled her bucket, and it was Rosamund’s turn.

She hurriedly stepped forward with her two buckets, placed them down, and started to work on the fetching bucket, slowly lowering it down the well by its strings.

“Ugh, let’s not talk about that.”

“Did anyone of you hear about Ralph’s engagement?”

That caused a few murmurs to erupt. Some girls announced their disappointment whilst others proclaimed they were clueless.

“I thought he was interested in one particular skirt,” one of them mockingly commented, causing the murmurs to slowly die out. Then it went briefly quiet.

The sudden silence puzzled Rosamund, and she briefly turned to see what was going on. She instantly met the group’s hostile glares, and some of them sported sly smirks.

Self-consciousness bubbled up inside her. She took a deep breath, dismissed their gazes, and returned to what she was doing.

“God, I hate her,” someone murmured.

“The more reason to hate that Mary even more. She’s the one who’s engaged now, not her.”

“I wonder who is next. Robert, Walter, Henry…? With her around, nobody gets attention,” another voice complained.

Rosamund rolled her eyes. She never paid heed to their words. It was most wise to remain quiet.

Why would she bicker with any of them anyway? It wasn’t her fault their men chose to chase her around.

Lustful pricks, that’s what they all were to her. An obnoxious bunch with a little wealth but thought they owned everything. A few livestock and nice trades got to their heads.

But she didn’t blame them—everyone likes to live a nice life.

It wasn’t about their wealth—it was the disagreeable manners that made her sick. It’s not like the girls behind her were able. They were as poor as she was, but they were no better.

It seemed like almost everyone that surrounded her was materialistic, envious and…

A sudden chirp disrupted her from her thoughts whilst she finished filling her second bucket.

“Girls, look! There he is!”

She mentally scoffed as she moved aside to let anyone through. She was done.

“My, what a frame!”

“Are you stupid? Look at his clothes—eww? He looks like an alms collector, nothing short of a beggar. Ugh, he’s too rough for my liking!”

“I mean, why would one keep themselves so…ugh! At least he cares about his hair.”

Rosamund carried her buckets one on each side and started to walk away.

“Girls,” one of the girls whispered, gaining almost the entire group’s attention. She was a pretty blonde, not more than nineteen.

Some of them giggled quietly whilst she whispered something before a new brunette stepped forward. Then they both ran toward a clueless Rosamund.

Rosamund was quietly walking, humming a soft lullaby, when she was abruptly shoved from behind. Her legs lost balance and she fell with her buckets, spilling water all over the place.

“Serves you right,” the blonde girl muttered whilst the brunette beside her smirked with sick pleasure.

Milly. Rosamund recognized the voice. She hauled herself to sit upright on the muddy ground and jerked her head back to face her attacker.

“Next time, stay out of our way,” the brunette said before they turned around and left her to herself.

Rage bubbled up inside Rosamund.

Enough is enough. What did I ever do to them to deserve such humiliation? she thought.

Almost everyone around cast funny looks her way, and her dress was a mess! Who knew how much time she’d spend washing the muddy stains off.

That’s it!

Her hands curled into fists, and she was about to stand up when she heard it.

“Here, let me help you.” A man’s voice spoke from behind her.

It was the deepest, most velvet, and most enchanting voice she had ever heard. It caused her heart to skip a beat whilst she hurriedly turned around to see who it was.

Her eyes instantly landed on a tall, dark man, scruffy but—Lord! He was built like a god.

His single gray eye held so much warmth and glistened with emotions she had never seen on anyone—emotions directed to her.

His full pinkish lips curled into a small smile, revealing a pair of deep dimples that his scruffy beard couldn’t conceal. He extended his hand toward her. “Please?”

Without tearing her eyes from his expressive gaze, she lifted her hand and accepted his before he pulled her up.

His touch was electrifying; it sent sparks all over her body as she continued to stare deep into his eye. Who was this man?

He noticed she was shamelessly staring, and she abruptly tore her gaze from him and looked at the ground, hiding her burning cheeks away from his penetrative gaze.

Her eyes landed on her now empty buckets. With a sigh, she hunkered down to retrieve them. She heard him clear his throat before he bent to help her, and they both stood upright, each holding a bucket.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She dismissed the ground and looked up at him again. Upon meeting his gaze, she nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

Something about his gaze captivated her, entranced her, mesmerized her, pulled her, and called to her. And she had no plans on pulling away—not then, not ever.