After that incident my life took a turn for the better. I was perceived as a local hero by both commoners and soldiers and took pride in my new reputation. I patrolled both in, and outside the town, and kept in shape when my shifts were over. I still drank and wagered upon occasion, but not with the same driven, self-destructive force as before. It should come as no surprise, then, that on one typical night of small wagering and mild drinking, I allowed things to get out of hand. Maybe I drank on an empty stomach — I don’t remember. What’s important though is that in the thrill of the moment I made a … large wager and lost all I’d gained — my wages, my winnings, and everything else, short of my clothes and my sword. Dumb as I was, I never bet on Ivar’s masterpiece sword.
It was then that I discovered two worldly truths. The first is that false friends are like the tides; they come when you’re high and drift away when you’re low. Simon, my only real friend, had advised me time and again to cease my bad habits. Simon stayed by my side, proving that he was of the second brand of friends, those that lend a hand when you need them. The second worldly truth I learned is that God seems to love fools, so very much so that he made so many of them and lavished opportunities on their heads ― or at least he did on mine.
The next day around noontime a man came by and stood in front of me as I sat on a barrel after my shift was over. I pretty much ignored him, hoping he’d go away, since I was too focused on my current predicament to want any sort of conversation. He didn’t go away, though. He was shorter than I, which wasn’t unusual, as most people with blood of the northern and eastern tribes didn’t approach my height. He had short black hair and a shaven face, in the style of the Romans. His chest and arms were very muscular, even more muscular than Ivar’s. He wore scale-armor and a golden cross hung from his neck. He was probably a Lord, or at least a true warrior, unlike us ragtag soldiers. In any case, he was someone to watch out for. I should have, but I just didn’t care.
“Are ye all right, soldier?” He asked, recognizing my position even though I wore casual clothes, and nothing in my attire signified my occupation or rank. I continued to ignore him, hoping he’d go away. But he just stood there, motionless, waiting patiently for my reply.
“No, I’m not all right, since you’re so determined to know,” I said rudely.
“What ails you, my son?” He asked gently, taking no offense.
“I’m no son of yours,” I responded insolently.
“Still, my question stands,” he replied calmly.
“I’m but a lonely, poor, and wretched soul,” I said miserably. “I’ve got no coin for you. Leave me in peace, if you please.”
“Whatever coin you possess I suggest you keep in your purse, young man,” he said gently.
“So what do you want, then?” I asked impatiently.
“To help you, if I can,” he replied.
“Why would you do that?” I demanded, suspicious.
“Because I can,” he said frankly “Now, will you tell me what troubles you? Or if I am truly the sum of your troubles, ask me to leave again and I shall not return,” he said. I paused to consider this, opened my mouth to tell him to go, but then thought better of it.
“No, stay,” I said. “I’m sorry, Master,” I began.
“Call me Richard,” he replied.
“Master Richard,” I corrected myself.
“Just Richard will suffice,” he replied. “I need no titles.”
“Very well, Richard ...” I said carefully.
“What’s wrong?” He asked again, and took a seat beside me on a lower level.
“To be honest, I don’t know. I was rich and now I’m poor, but that’s not really my trouble. I mean it is, but it’s not,” I said confusedly, perplexed now as I thought over his question.
“Perhaps I can ...” he began, reaching for his purse.
“No,” I protested, grabbing his hand to stop him from offering me alms. I let go of him as soon as I realized what I’d just done. “I don’t want your charity. I may be many things, but a beggar is not one of them,” I said in my defense.
“Both wretched and proud; a very bad combination,” he mused. “I wasn’t about to offer you charity,” he added.
“What, then?” I asked.
“A bargain,” he replied.
“I won’t convert, not for all the riches in the world,” I said.
“I hadn’t realized that you were pagan,” he remarked calmly. “Regardless, I’d like to purchase your story,” he continued.
“Why?” I asked.
“My reasons are my own and my terms are simple. Your story for whatever debts you owe,” he said calmly, yet firmly. It made me wonder the extent of what he knew about me, if he already knew that I owed money without me telling him. I had not admitted to a single soul in Drentwych that I was in deep debt.
“Very well,” I replied.
“You mentioned that you’re of a different faith. I’d like to know where you come from and the tenets of your faith,” he began.
“Very ...” I began.
“I’m not finished,” he said. “You also mentioned that you’re wretched, and I’d like to know what happened that felled you,” he said.
“Very well,” I replied … and began my story from the beginning…