Riftan stared fiercely at the tombstone erected on top of his mother’s grave. A calloused, rough hand crept on his trembling shoulders.
“… Let’s go back.”
Riftan, looking up at his stepfather with melancholic eyes, lowered his gaze helplessly.
As soon as the funeral came to an end, he had to work at the smithy and push his feelings aside, not having the privilege of being granted a break. Just because a woman died, no one would care to look with sympathy or give an ounce of compassion to him.
When the plague broke out, it was the lower class that was affected the most. Their dead bodies piled on top of each other, the death of strangers’ bodies being mixed up in the pile was not really a concerning matter to the parishioners. That fact was rather fortunate: he did not need pretentious words of consolation. He never wanted to recall the nightmare from last night.
Riftan worked without a break, trying to erase all the thoughts running in his head. He wanted his thoughts to be clouded. He hammered furiously until his shoulders complained with a sharp pain. When he had no strength left to lift a finger, he finally trudged back home. However, upon reaching the hut, his legs didn’t move, like they were rooted on the ground. He hesitated for a long time before grabbing the doorknob with trembling hands and the humid midsummer air filled his lungs uncomfortably.
He closed his eyes tightly as he opened the door, a stale smell pricking his nose. With desolate eyes, he scanned the dark hut that was filtered with the setting sun’s color. Despite wiping the floors clean last night, the strange stench lingered. Riftan touched his mouth with his trembling hands and picked up a bucket by the door to fill it with water from the stream. Then, he poured the water on the floor, sitting on his knees, not minding whether his pants got soaked, and scrubbed the black stains again and again.
He scrubbed for so long until drooping petals touched his red and swelling fingertips, then he slowly looked down and turned his gaze. The crushed flower crown was drying up by the corner. Riftan picked it up and the petals hanging from it fluttered and fell to the floor, he bent his back lower to pick them up one by one when suddenly, a drop of water fell on the back of his hand.
He blinked blindly before realizing that it was his own tears, so he wiped his cheeks roughly with his fists. He didn’t even know what he was crying for, he felt nothing but ashamed that he shed tears. Riftan placed the flower crown in a small basket and collapsed on his bed, not even bothering to change from his dingy clothes.
The face of the woman hanging from the ceiling flashed before his eyes like a ghost, it felt like the black figure was still hung over his head, but he had nowhere to run away to. Riftan pulled the blanket up to cover his head and huddled like a little ball.
That night, his stepfather returned home reeking of alcohol. When he opened his eyes to the rattling sounds the man made, he saw a dark figure stumbling around, walking to the opposite bed. His stepfather flopped down on the straw bed and gazed at the floor for the longest time. After a long heavy silence, he finally spoke in a resounding voice.
“Don’t make yourself so miserable.”
Riftan blinked slowly in the dark, the man’s voice rang in between sobs.
“If you are born like waste for the ground, you have to live your life looking only at the ground. Looking up will make you nothing but wretched.”
“…”
“Who the hell would know? If there were a dead waste on the ground… and someone spared a look… But they just trample all over it and leave. You see, no one cares. I’m saying no one will care. But it shouldn’t be like that. Life shouldn’t be lived that mindlessly and then leave just like that.”
Riftan watched as the man’s shoulders quavered, then turned to the dark ceiling. His mother’s despairing face flashed before his eyes.
She was an imprudent woman who did nothing but wistfully comb her long hair neatly from dawn and then go up the hill, waiting for someone who would never return. A woman who brutally left after a man who never came to find her. And his stepfather couldn’t even resent such a woman…
He would not cry anymore. He had no more tears to shed for that person.
I will not forgive you until the day I die. He murmured inwardly and closed his eyes slowly.
***
After that day, Riftan mechanically went to the smithy every day and returned home. He was so worn out that he didn’t know when he would collapse from not sleeping nor eating properly, but he was better off like that. He couldn’t close his eyes unless his body was drained to the point where he couldn’t even think. As if noticing how Riftan exhausted himself physically like a mad man, one day the blacksmith bluntly spoke.
“Don’t come here tomorrow. It’s deadly hectic, I don’t want the burden you will cause if you collapse. Take a rest tomorrow then come back looking like a normal human being. “
Riftan thought the man was ridiculously sarcastic for saying that when he had been pushing him to death with work. The boy laughed bitterly and laid down his tools. However, he didn’t think of going home.
He wandered aimlessly through the forest, washed his charcoal black hands and feet in the stream, and sat on a tree stump for a while. The sound of birds singing resounded peacefully. He looked up through the thick leaves with distant eyes, then suddenly rose from his seat and began to trudge. He didn’t know where he was going. He reached the outbuilding after walking silently for a long time and stopped like he was drawn by something.
The girl was sitting in the corner of a beautiful garden filled with blooming flowers. Riftan quietly held his breath. Despite the midsummer heat, the girl’s shoulders hunched as if she was feeling a chill. Her figure reminded her of himself when he lied down, curled up under a blanket. She looked so cold and lonely that he wanted to sit down next to her and warm her up with his body temperature.
Riftan suddenly felt a strange sense of fear and stepped back, despite being under the scorching sun, cold sweat trickled down his back. He ran way as fast as he can. Even when he was out of the castle gates, the strange feeling fear did not go away.
He descended the green hill in a single sprint and stopped in front of a rushing stream. The vigorous flowing water gleamed silver in the intense sunlight. In that clear water, white and blue pebbles that he used to look for, shone against his eyes. Riftan gazed at them as he rummaged with his arms and pulled out a shabby crown from his clothes. A crown made by hammering horseshoes.
You really tried to give this thing to the duke’s daughter?
Riftan threw it away. The iron crown flew like a boomerang and submerged into the water. He left as soon as he felt the regret creep up, but he couldn’t figure out where to go. He could no longer find rest in the hut. Every time he entered the house, an illusion of his mother hanging from the beam haunted him, nightmares pestered him every day, the helpless face of his stepfather, endless rigorous labor, an inescapable poverty, and loneliness that could never be soothed…
He rubbed his face with his rough palms. He could not bare to live in that emptiness his whole life. He didn’t want to make himself hope for the impossible. He didn’t even want to comfort someone whom he could never get close to. He wanted to run away. He wanted to run somewhere so far away.
Somewhere very far…
He lifted his head. Beyond the hill, there was a gray castle surrounded by a vast manor. The commoners living there were like a herd of cattle trapped in a fence, born inside the fence and died inside the fence. Riftan clenched his fist. The moment he made up his mind, he ran to the hut without delay. When he stepped into the dark house, the urge to run away felt stronger.
He gathered all his belongings in a ragged sack, packed some food and slung it over his shoulders. However, when he was about to leave, his stepfather’s face flashed before his eyes. He leaned against the door, groaning like a stuck animal. He felt like a helpless calf who had been dragged for slaughter but could not bring himself to resist.
I can’t just wait for the day that I die. Isn’t stepfather the one who told me not to make myself miserable?
Riftan quickly moved, clenching his teeth. He turned around and placed four silver coins on top of the table but knew that wouldn’t suffice. He hesitated but scraped jewels off the dagger and laid them next to the silver coins. Then, he hurried out of the hut before his determination could fade away. Guilt and liberation washed over him at the same time. He ran vigorously like a beast out of trap.
As he passed through the wide fields and reached a small market, his whole body was drenched in sweat. He bought a bunch of herbs there. His journey was going to be long, so he wanted to get a horse, but he needed at least six silver coins to buy one. The thought of stealing passed through his head, but he worried that if he was caught, the punishment would be not end with just his wrists being cut off.
If a boy dressed like him attempted to escape the castle with a horse, the guards would catch him right away. Even if he successfully steals one and escaped from the castle, someone might recognize him and burden his stepfather with a compensation for the stolen horse.
Riftan contemplated and headed to the largest inn in town. He wandered around for a moment and saw three wagons and six horses lined up in front of the building. A man, who appears to be a merchant, came out of the inn and gave instructions to the mercenaries. They followed him and loaded their luggage on the wagon. Riftan hid in an alley and watched the scene.
Finally, the mercenaries sat on the horses in unison, ready to start their journey. As one of them raised his hand, the wagons slowly began to move. Riftan easily climbed onto the wagon, which was built behind the horses’ backs, aiming for the chance when everyone was facing front.
Inside the wagon there were buckets of water and feeds for horses. He squeezed between the pile of raw hay and curled up. Soon, the pace of the wagon sped up. Riftan covered his head deep with his hood and looked carefully through the wagon’s leather shrouds. They quickly passed through the fortress’ gates and traversed the vast plains.
An eerie shudder shook him. I really did it. He couldn’t believe it, even seeing it with his own eyes that he was really leaving. He was so firmly convinced that he would never be able to escape the territory until the day of his death, that he could not believe how he simply left.
He buried his face on his lap. How would his stepfather react once he finds out that he was gone? Would he feel relieved, like he got rid of a decaying tooth? Or would he be devastated that he was betrayed even by his own stepson? Riftan bit his lips.
Does she know that I’m gone? The girl’s figure sitting alone in a blooming garden faded in front of him. Now what will soothe her loneliness? … Stop thinking about it.
Riftan reached inside his sack and felt the dry flower crown. He scattered the dry petals outside the wagon. The voice of his stepfather rang in his ears.
“If you are born like waste for the ground, you have to live your life looking only at the ground.”
I will never look up. Never.