"What is it?" Liliana asked. "Has Father come?" She would have moved down the branch to view for herself who Joseph peered at, but he prevented her by speaking softly, in a warning tone.

     "Don't show yourself, Liliana. There's a man over there, slinking in the shadows of the archway. He's been following me around for over a week. I've seen him, each day, watching me. He's seen me here, in the tree now. I must return to my work."

     "Why would someone watch you, Joseph?"

     Joseph smiled. He liked it when Liliana used his secret name. Everyone else called him 'Apples.'

     "I've no idea," Joseph answered, "and I must be careful not to imagine trouble..."

     "He who answers a matter before he heareth it, it is folly and shame to him," Liliana quoted softly, adding; "it was my proverb today, and it fits so well."

     Joseph leapt from the tree. He stumbled, but righted himself quickly. It would not do to have Liliana see him fall over! Joseph heard the vibrant rustle of her lace dress and knew she was climbing from the tree.

     Before he could speak to prevent her joining him, allowing the man to see them together, she was at his side.

     "Don't forget; we promised to remember each other," she said, "And, bring me another verse, soon; please. I'll be watching for you."

     He shrugged inwardly, knowing the man would have no doubts now that they had been in the tree together.

     Plucking one of the tree's first blossoms, Joseph touched it to his lips before offering it to Liliana, a thing he always did. A leaf; a flower; always with the hint of a kiss. This was as close as he dared come--he the pauper, she the lady. She smiled, taking the fragile flower in her small fingers, touching it to her lips. It was very precious to her.

     Liliana, cushioning the blossom in her palm, said, "I keep them all, and all our verses, too."

     Knowing he must not linger, and be seen passing time with the lord of the castle's daughter, Joseph hurried away without a backward look.

     Taking up the heavy hoe, the lad continued working the damp soil of the castle garden, slicing small weeds growing between young vegetables. He hoped the sun would come out hot and wilt the wretched weeds, preventing them from taking root again. They were not large enough to remove by hand; it would take too long. Joseph hoped that if he hoed the garden every other day, it would keep weed free; but it had rained every morning, for four days. He had been too busy on the fifth day to come.

     He sighed. So much to do; it was good to be occupied, but he hated having to behave in a frantic manner about his tasks. He realized the jobs he had to do in one day no longer matched the daylight hours.

     Perhaps I should give up the castle garden, he thought...But I wouldn't see Liliana then. No, I can't give it up...the garden...or rather, Liliana. Just to see her gives me happiness. It's like gazing at a beautiful, unreachable star; but I still want to gaze...to be near to her...is bliss!

     His eyes roved to the tree and he saw the shining fabric of Liliana's dress. She stood by the thick trunk, watching him, now smiling brightly. She waved and blew a kiss.

     A blush surged over Joseph's face and he turned to see the man, still there, closer to the garden now, observing him at his work. He feared that the man disapproved of Liliana being there. Someone was going to prevent him seeing her. Bowing his head to the soil, he worked non-stop for over half an hour.

     Looking up again, he saw that while Liliana had gone, the man still watched.

     Joseph breathed deeply, savoring the earthy tang of the air. The weather had been alternatively cool, wet in the mornings and sunny in the afternoons. While it was good for the young vegetables, it also encouraged the weeds. Joseph attacked the unwanted intruders diligently, working until the whole garden was freshly turned.

     Young vegetable shoots now stood plainly in their well-groomed rows. Joseph relaxed for a few seconds, viewing his work, then moving quickly here and there, he diligently smoothed any untidy soil with a narrow rake.

     Everything he set his hand to, must be perfect; at least, it must be the very best he could do, he believed. Do the best you can with all you have, he reminded himself.

     Snatching up a prepared bag, Joseph headed away from the castle, climbing the nearby hills, moving up a mountainside. It was still morning, and he hoped the sun would stay behind the blanket of cloud.

     He had been commissioned to collect certain herb roots for the doctor who worked at the royal castle.

     Joseph remembered the man in the arch, his personal spy. With a swift turn, he looked backward down the hillside. Sure enough, the man was in the distance, tailing him. Frowning deeply, Joseph pulled out his small work dagger. Kneeling down, he dug the roots and began filling the bag, conscious that the man was drawing closer than before. He soon could hear the man's heavy breathing. Joseph was being scrutinized as he worked.

     I can understand him watching me at the castle--if it's because of Liliana--but here? Up here? While I'm digging roots? he mused, knowing he had no reasonable answer.

     Joseph decided, as before, to ignore his uninvited observer. He pretended the man was invisible and chose not to look his way. Spying a certain rare berry growing nearby, he carefully uprooted the whole plant and wrapped the root with its own large leaves as Widow Allison had instructed. This plant, the widow had told him, mixed with certain other herbs, was a fast cure for bee and hornet stings. 'Take a few drops in a whole pitcher of water, and it will fix it,' she explained, 'gets rid of poison in the blood, it does.'

     After delivering the full bag of herb roots to the doctor, Joseph took one of two pennies he received, to Widow Allison, with the berry plant. The widow looked after five small orphaned children, plus her own three. Tears rose in her eyes when Joseph gave her the penny. "You're my answer to prayer," she said, as she had many times before. "God will bless you, Joseph. I know you don't want thanks, but I thank you with all my heart. I baked corn buns, and you must have one." Joseph accepted the large bun hungrily. On the way past the city center well, he helped himself to a drink of the cool water, conscious that his watcher was not far behind.

     For the hundredth time, he asked himself, Why would someone follow me? Lord Chester must have found out that Liliana meets me in the garden. He'll be real mad if he learns we're such agreeable friends...Joseph could imagine no other reason for someone spying on him. He quoted Liliana's verse, under his breath, "He who answers a matter before he heareth it, it is folly and shame to him."

    Taking up an old axe, he chopped wood and stacked it neatly, piling the cart high. To his horror, the cart creaked, shuddered, and then collapsed.

     Returning to the city, Joseph borrowed a hammer and some nails from one of the many carpenters, after which he walked back to the forest, unloaded the wood, repaired the cart and began reloading. The large man who had watched his diligent work joined him; the man he now considered to be his 'personal spy.'

     "I'll help you," the man said gruffly, removing his costly cloak. He began throwing the wood on the cart.

     Joseph stared at him in surprise. Close up, the man was larger than ever. His clothes were not those of a servant, but of a rich man of consequence. Buttons on the man's velvet vest glittered in the sunshine.

     "Thank you, Sir," Joseph said earnestly. He would never refuse a helping hand. "But please, be careful; although the cart is repaired, it's not very strong. I'll not load it so high this time."

     Joseph rearranged the wood thrown in by the man. He liked to stack it properly rather than have it in an untidy heap. He was glad to see the man obey his wish; but by the appearance of the man's large smooth hands, Joseph knew stacking wood had not kept his hands busy before.

     To Joseph's surprise, the man helped him by supporting and pushing the cart when they came to a rough piece of road. The man had not introduced himself, and did not speak again. Joseph wondered whether or not to ask why he was following him.

     When in doubt, it's better to be quiet, he reminded himself. However, he asked, "Do you live in the city?"

     The man did not answer.

     After returning the hammer and remaining nails, Joseph delivered half the wood to the widow's house, and then took the rest to another house where he was paid one penny. Returning to the forest, he collected what he had left behind and chopped wood until he refilled the cart. A baker in the city needed three loads today.

     Again, the man helped load the cart and Joseph felt he was watching for his reaction as wood was deliberately placed out of kilter. The lad said nothing, but restacked the pieces. After following Joseph back to the city, the man disappeared.

     Joseph did not receive money from the baker, but food. For the three loads, he was given enough food for twenty people, but Joseph knew it would have to feed thirty--thirty-one--if he counted himself.

     He took crusty bread rolls to the place outside the city wall where homeless beggars slept. There was Dan who was old and blind; Harry, younger, was blind too. Dolly, an old lady who went everywhere with the younger lady, Jill, was also blind. Dolly's sister, Cherry, was terribly deformed and stone deaf. The other twenty-five were a mixture of cripples, disabled, aged, and handicapped.

     Having distributed the food, Joseph made sure they all had their rugs and were settled for the night, in the shelter of the wall, under the overhang of the steps leading to the wall top. As he turned away, he saw that his personal spy had returned. This time, a smaller man stood with him, watching as Joseph bade his friends good night.

    The sinking sun painted the city with orange flames, creating deepening shadows. Feeling bone weary, Joseph could have easily skipped his evening wash, but he remembered how much better he slept after removing the grime of the day. Therefore, he headed down to the river, collecting his sun bleached, well-worn clothes from the branches where he had left them to dry. Placing them on a large rock, he moved around the riverbank to a high place. Joseph leaped in, fully clothed, causing a large splash.

     He felt good, making the splash. It gave him a sense of power; something big happened when he hit the water. Diving into a deep spot, he pealed off his clothes, surfacing to rub the hem of his tunic where it had brushed in the soil when he knelt to collect the herb roots. He placed his sopping garments on the edge of the rock.

     Joseph swam across the river and back, enjoying the relaxation of the water, diving under the water, massaging his scalp with his fingertips.

     The warmth of the large rock at the river's edge was welcome and Joseph sat there, pulling on his dry clothes, listening to the last songs of the birds as they settled for the night. Deepening twilight painted the sky blood red and Joseph relaxed in his beautiful out-door bath chamber. Lifting his eyes to the sky, he said, aloud, "Thank You Father. I'm the richest boy in all the world."

     "What makes you imagine such a thing?" a deep voice resounded from the shadows behind Joseph.

     Feeling indignant, Joseph spoke without thinking, "Who are you? Why've you been following me?"

     "I asked you a question, child. What makes you think you're rich?"

    Joseph felt intimidated at the commanding tone of his watcher. The smaller man stepped closer to the river's edge, waiting for the lad's reply.

     Joseph decided to answer truthfully, "Well, Sir; do you see the beautiful sunset? Look at the crimson reflections in my river--my favorite things are here; they were made by my Father and they belong to me."

     Silence.

     Joseph stood, collected his wet clothes, and added, "My Father made it all; and I like it all so much."

     "And who is your father?" the smaller man asked, following Joseph with his tall broad shouldered companion.

     "Why, God, of course." Joseph climbed the tree, hanging his clothes in the branches. When he descended, the men had disappeared.

    Joseph arrived in the orchard, just outside the city wall. He knelt under the apple tree where his mother was buried, and prayed aloud for all his friends, for Liliana, for his acquaintances, and dependants; and for the king and queen. All the while, he felt the unnerving, continuing sensation that he was being watched.

     He prayed, "And God, bless those who watch me. Keep me from harm."

     He strode to his place near the wall where he slept under a ledge. Feeling around in the darkness, he discovered the space was empty. His blanket was missing. The night was cool, damp; and Joseph knew it would grow colder. He could not sleep here without his woolen rug since his tunic was too thin and he would shiver from cold. Perhaps he would catch a chill. He sighed. This had happened before. Someone must have needed the blanket. He would go to the place he slept in winter, when snow covered the ground and it was much too cold to sleep outside.

     The kitchen chamber in the royal castle was warm as toast and Joseph entered it as though he were the owner. Castle guards knew him and just today they had allowed him passage through here to take the herb roots to the doctor. He often felt he was looked upon in a manner similar to the castle cats that also came and went as they pleased. They caught rodents--and he fetched wood.

     The cook in the kitchen allowed him to sleep there as payment for keeping the wood and coal boxes full. Even in summer time, Joseph did this chore, and the cook allowed him to gather scraps and leftover food from the kitchen to feed his friends and often himself. Although he knew that this 'payment' cost the cook nothing, he did not murmur or demand something more.

     Curling up by the massive hearth, away from the feline creatures and their fleas, Joseph slept until three a.m.

     All was still and dark in the castle at this hour. Even the guards slumbered. Joseph placed a candle in a holder and lit the wick. The stone floor under his feet was cold and he shivered as he traversed the dark, empty corridor and walked up the narrow spiral staircase.

     Soon he entered the chamber he often visited at this hour of the morning. It was the royal library. Sometimes, in the winter, when it was too inclement to work, he would spend all night here, after which he slept most of the day.

     Joseph lit the large oil lamp in the library and drew the Bible from its place on the shelf. He liked to read from the book of the Proverbs because much of the advice given there, he could apply in his daily life. Many of the warnings could be passed on; and Joseph often quoted verses he had learned from this book. This morning he discovered a verse that was new to him, "A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver."

     I'm known as Apples; and I live in this kingdom of Justiceburg that some people call the 'Kingdom of Gold.' I must make sure that every word I speak is like gold, valuable and worthwhile. He thought of Liliana; She's like gold in a picture of silver...I'll share this verse with her next time I go to Chester Castle.

     Joseph sat thinking about Liliana, watching the dawn lighten the thick glass window at the other end of the library chamber. People search after gold; it's very precious. I'd like my words to be precious, like gold.

    "What are you are doing in here?" a deep, stern voice questioned.

     Joseph turned in dismay. Never before had he been interrupted whilst reading in this library. His eyes grew wider when he saw it was that man, his watcher, his personal spy.

     Joseph was speechless. The tone of the man made him feel out of place, as if he committed a heinous crime.

     The old curator had often warned, "Although no one comes to the royal library before breakfast, you must always return to the kitchen at dawn, Apples." He had also told the lad, "Before King Lemuel comes to his library, castle attendants and guards always precede him to make sure the library is dust free, tidy, and unoccupied. All will be well, so long as you are careful with the books and do not stay after dawn."

     Standing, Joseph bowed low, then said, "Please Sir, I came here to read...but I always leave before dawn..."

     "You came to...to...read? Who taught you to read?"

     "Brother Simon, Sir; he taught me many things; but he's dead now..."

     "And who gave you the right to come to the king's library?"

     "Sir Howarth did, Sir."

     "Sir Howarth?"

     "Yes Sir. He's the castle curator."

     "I'm quite aware of Sir Howarth's position, boy!" The man stared intently at Joseph. His brown eyes narrowed as he said, "King Lemuel will be surprised..."

     "The king?" Joseph said, alarmed.

     "Before I tell him of this irregularity, perhaps there's something else you may like to divulge about your activities, boy." He waited, but Joseph did not speak, so he said, as though summarizing, "You have no given name, but are known as "Apples." You sleep in the king's kitchen, and you read books in the king's library. Have you anything else to add?"

     "No, Sir," Joseph said politely; then blushed and added quickly, "Except perhaps, Sir, I believe I pay my way well. I keep the king fed all the year around, and warmed in the winter."

     "And how do you do that?"

     "I fetch wood, and coal, for the kitchen fires; all year. In the summer, I fully stock the courtyard bins with both wood and coal. If the winter is longer than usual, as it was this year, Sir, I restock the bins."

     "You do, do you?" The man said. He grinned suddenly, from ear to ear as though he found the matter most amusing. Then he extended his hand in a friendly manner, saying, "I am Sir Pippin. And you are...Apples..."

     Joseph shook Sir Pippin's hand, and then said, "As you have said, Sir, 'Apples' is the name people know me as, Sir; but I privately call myself Joseph."

     "Joseph; why Joseph?"

     "I read of Joseph in the Bible, Sir; and, next to Jesus, I like him best of all. Although he spent a long time as a slave, and in prison, he never lost his faith in God."

     "I'd like to know more about you, Apples...Joseph..."

     The two sat together at the small desk and Joseph found himself telling Sir Pippin things he had never had the opportunity to tell anyone before. It seemed to Joseph that Sir Pippin was very interested, as he asked many questions and listened intently to the lad's answers.

     When Joseph descended to the kitchen, it was late. He ate leftover cold porridge, and hurried off to do his chores. He was troubled, because Sir Pippin had told him that King Lemuel would be hearing about him, and the king would want to speak with Joseph himself.

     "Stay within the castle perimeters today, Boy--that means not going outside the outer wall. I'll come for you myself, when the king finalizes a time."

     It was impossible for Joseph to understand why the king would wish to speak with him; what was it that he had done so wrong?

     Joseph tried to picture King Lemuel; he had rarely seen the royal person. Paupers like Joseph stayed much in the background; and never had he been close to the king. He recalled the few times he had seen the king and queen at a distance, riding in the royal carriage, in a royal procession. Soldiers in bright uniforms rode with the carriage, and the immaculately groomed horses were decked out in bright dressage, with golden fringing. Joseph, though greatly interested, had always found himself too busy to stand and watch on such occasions.

     Now he was to meet the king and perhaps answer to him about his intrusion into the royal castle.

     The massive chamber was practically empty. Joseph felt overawed by the size and beauty of his surroundings.

     He was aware of a smaller throne beside the king's throne and that a queenly figure sat upon this throne; but he dared not gaze upon Her Majesty; his eyes were directed to the floor at his own feet.

     Joseph had not thought he would have to stand before the king's throne. It seemed every nerve in his body reacted to his emotions; his heart thumped in his throat and he was unable to prevent his body from trembling.

     "Apples, of Justiceburg," Sir Pippin announced.

     The king stared down at the young lad who bowed, then knelt, awkwardly, due to his nervousness.

     Lifting his head, and standing on the royal command, "Rise," Joseph looked briefly at His Royal Majesty who wore the jewel studded golden crown. He had no idea how old the king might be. Hints of silver tinged the king's dark hair and his thick beard was sprinkled with silver as well. To the boy, he appeared fierce and uncompromising; the ultimate judge under God.

     Joseph's apprehensions made him unable to imagine that the king might have kindly eyes.

     Then the king spoke and his deep voice reverberated in the great chamber, causing Joseph to tremble all the more.

     "Apples; you were born in this city. Your father, Elam, was a loyal soldier who lived in the city, married to your mother whose name was Merola. When your father died from a riding accident, in the king's service, your mother was left alone. She had no income and no home. Sadly to say, she is buried in the orchard outside the city walls. Therefore, Apples, you are an orphan."

     The king then spoke about the way Joseph lived, and his work. It sounded to the lad, as though King Lemuel was talking of someone else. Joseph felt strangely detached.

     It was obvious to Joseph that Sir Pippin had told the king everything about him. But the king did not mention Liliana or the fact that Joseph read in the royal library.

     "Apples, we would be pleased to have you dine with us now."

     Joseph was overwhelmed at this invitation--or command--and he felt disagreeable, reluctant. But one did not say 'no' to the king!

     The dining chamber, to which Joseph was ushered, was small and private, one the king and queen rarely used. Meals were normally partaken of in the Great Hall and with a large company of people, the king's court, and often, numerous guests.

     Due to the fact that only the king and queen and Sir Pippin were present, the lad was more nervous than ever. Wherever he looked, he felt royal eyes upon him.

     Joseph took every care to behave as best he knew how, although he ate little of the food. His stomach churned into a cramping knot. He felt out of place and wished he could leave.

     After the sumptuous meal, the king commanded they move to a sitting chamber. King Lemuel explained to Joseph the reason why he had been followed.

     "Both the queen and I were the only children of our parents, and we ourselves have no children; therefore the Kingdom of Justiceburg is without an heir.

     "We have searched and searched our kingdom for the right person to train for the position of king. No one has been suitable as far as we, Queen Lois and I, have determined. So we prayed and asked God to show us who should become the next king.

     "Then, one night, as we looked down from the top of the western wall of our castle, we saw a small figure kneeling under the apple tree; a young boy. At first we did not believe that a beggar boy from the city could be the one. For seven evenings, we watched the same lad kneel to pray; then we asked Sir Pippin to discover everything he could about the boy.

     "We believe, Apples; you have the potential, the character, to train as king. More than that, we feel, strangely, that God may have led us to you."

     Joseph gulped and closed his eyes. Never in a hundred years would he have imagined such a thing. Sir Pippin had been following him to see how he spent his time, to study him as a prospective prince!

     The king spoke again, saying, "I've read, in the Holy Scriptures, a verse that assisted our search, and I believe that time may prove you to be that one, Apples."

     Unrolling a scroll, the king read, "Better is a poor and a wise child than an old and foolish king, who will no longer be admonished."

     "Oh, Sir...but...Your Majesty; you're not old, or foolish," Joseph blurted, then bowing his head he said, "forgive me for being so out-spoken."

     To his concern, the king laughed, but not unkindly.

     "And you are as wise as you are poor..."

     "Wise beyond your years, Joseph," Queen Lois agreed softly, her blue eyes filled with tenderness. Joseph felt the soft voice calm his fears. He looked at the queen's face for the first time. Her face glowed with beauty, and her blue eyes were filled with love. She smiled at him and Joseph felt his eyes fill. He bowed his head, blinking away the unexpected tears.

     I never cry, he reminded himself; to cry is most unseemly. It was impossible for him to understand the depths of his emotions.

     Two more castle officials joined the king and queen, and together they talked about Joseph and his life. The hour grew late. Joseph gave honest answers to the many questions with which he was plied. Soon just the adults were conversing.

     "Can a leopard change it's spots?" one counselor asked.

     "Who said we are dealing with a leopard?" the queen asked.

     "Time will reveal the inward colors of the spots; they will come to the surface, just as time alone can reveal the cunning fox, or the true royalty of the lion's heart."

     Joseph lost concentration at this point, feeling he had missed something; why were animals being discussed? His eyes rebelled his efforts to hold them open. His body felt numb from sitting still in the huge chair to which he had been directed; one of his legs had gone to sleep, but he dared not stand to move about, or suggest that he leave. His head nodded. The day had been long; had he not been in the library this morning before dawn? Was it still the same day? He began to wonder if he were dreaming.

     Joseph found himself led to a large bedchamber and put to bed. He lay awake on the unfamiliar, soft mattress, daring not to move, unable to sleep a wink, yet unable to compile his thoughts. The king's last words circled his head, and he knew he had no choice, but to do as told.

     "You'll sleep here, tonight, Apples; you'll stay in the bedchamber until Sir Pippin comes for you."

     Before dawn, he climbed from the bed and curled up on the lush thick mat on the floor, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

     Sir Pippin said nothing of Joseph sleeping on the floor. He brought a breakfast tray to an anteroom and the pair ate hot porridge and fruit, in silence. A man arrived; the royal tailor. Joseph was measured for new clothes.

     Then Sir Pippin, alternating with the other two royal advisers, Sir Vokoll and Sir Bradley, read a list of rules. After each one, Joseph was asked to promise to abide by it.

     "Just reply, 'I promise,'" he was told.

     "You will obey each directive given you by King Lemuel and Sir Pippin, without questioning; do you so pledge?

     "I promise," Joseph said.

     "You will not leave the Royal Castle outer walls, on any occasion, for any amount of time, for any reason; other than that directed by the king. Do you so promise?"

     "I promise."

     "You will never tell a soul, nor write down the fact that once you were a pauper named Apples. Do you so agree?"

     "Yes."

     "You make a promise?" Sir Vokoll demanded.

     "I promise."

     "You will tell no one that you are training to be a prince. You will keep secret the idea of being crown prince or, one day, the king. Do you so promise?"

     "I...I...the king?"

     "You're just required to promise," Sir Bradley reminded him.

     "I...I promise."

     "You will serve the king and be loyal to him, believing he has been appointed by God to rule this kingdom."

     "I do believe that, Sir; and, I promise."

     "You will strive to be the very best you can be in the manner the king wishes to educate and train you."

     "Yes...I promise."

     Joseph felt his head whirling; things were moving so fast; too fast, changing too rapidly. No longer was he the free boy who could please himself to work all day long and earn his pennies. He wondered if he really wanted to do all these things? Had he not just promised he would? Never to leave the castle perimeter?

     I'm trapped, he told himself; to disobey the king is to commit treason...to disobey our king is to disobey God.

     Joseph was ushered to an office where the king and queen awaited him. All morning, the king forecast the role Joseph would take to become the crown prince.

     The promises Joseph had made were reconfirmed.

     "Never again will you be called 'Apples,' we will call you 'Joseph,' for a lengthy trial period; then if we, the queen and I, feel you are a worthy prince to ascend the throne of Justiceburg, we will have a ceremony installing you as crown prince. At that ceremony you will be given a new name. You will be formally adopted as our son and heir. But; until then, you shall not be known as, or even considered part of, the royal family."

     It seemed so final. Joseph felt he was still dreaming...the same dream had not ended yet, but was continuing. Perhaps he would wake up, under the ledge in the wall, or beside his mother's grave under the apple tree. The tears of the previous night threatened him and he shook his head, forcing them back.

     He tried to imagine why he should feel like crying; why he was sad? He had no understanding of his deepest emotions.

     Another sensation swamped Joseph; he was losing himself, somehow his inner being, his self-assured nature, was dissolving; nothing would be the same again.

     King Lemuel had never once asked Joseph what he wanted, and Joseph felt sure that no one considered his feelings on the matter. Who would believe that a pauper would not want to be a prince? he mused.

     What about Liliana? As Joseph thought of the beautiful Liliana, a wistful smile crossed his face. If he had such a position as prince, he could dare to think; perhaps; one day; perhaps, yes, he might, one day, reach and touch the impossible star.

     Instead of kissing a flower or a leaf, perhaps he may even kiss her hand, or, dare to kiss her cheek, or, her lips?

     His past was a dream--a lonely memory hidden in the deepest part of his heart where he forced his unshed tears.

     Sir Pippin tested Joseph's reading skills and knowledge and told him that he was most uneducated. Although he could read, and had a good knowledge of words and their usage, he had little knowledge of the world outside the royal city. Five tutors were appointed to teach him history, languages, geography, mathematics, reading, writing skills, and grammar; with kingdom law and map reading to follow when he had made sufficient progress. Lessons would take the largest portion of each day. A sun-lit chamber was set aside as Joseph's schoolroom.

     The adjacent dining room was where the king and queen would take breakfast with him; but he, alone, would take his evening meal here. All other time, save sleeping, Joseph would spend in the presence of King Lemuel, wherever his royal majesty was, to learn about kingship. Joseph was to listen to all the king's judgments, and to learn from him.

     A place was assigned for Joseph to stand, to the side, and beneath the dais upon which the thrones of the king and queen were situated. The king's advisors stood with Joseph. The lad, in his mindless, cheerless state, has no idea of the great privilege he had been accorded.

     Joseph's unhappiness increased. He did not appreciate, or like, the training to become a prince. Lessons were somewhat enjoyed, reading of course, history and geography were favorites; but he disliked languages and mathematics. At first, he found it extremely difficult, learning to write properly; to hold the quill correctly and control it to make the letters form accurately. His fingers felt clumsy and it was then he wished he were outside, in the fresh air, chopping wood.

     The new clothes felt restrictive and unfamiliar; he must get used to wearing leather boots; and he was to be tutored on how to bow to the king and queen; what to say in their presence and how to address their Royal Majesties.

     Joseph worried, constantly, about his beggar friends and the old folk; the widow and her children. He did not sleep very well at night, other than on the floor rug.

     One night, unable to rest at all, Joseph crept to the kitchen where he gathered the leftover food and asked a servant who was refueling the huge kitchen stove fires, to take it to the poor at the wall in the city. Having been assured that his wishes would be obeyed, the lad slept deeply for the remainder of the night. A castle guard had followed him to the kitchen and back.

     He longed to go and see Liliana and wondered who did the gardening now? Perhaps Liliana liked the new gardener more than she liked him? In his dreams, Liliana seemed further away from him than ever. Like a star in the eastern sky, he feared she would grow dimmer in the light of his own unwanted promotion. "I will never forget you, Liliana," he whispered. The following night, he could not sleep, so he went to the library to read.

     Joseph read from the Bible. He read about Jesus; how Jesus fed the hungry, healed the sick and gave sight to the blind. 'Whosoever receiveth children . . . receiveth Me,' he read, and, 'Whosoever shall give you a cup of water to drink in my name, because you belong to Christ, verily I say unto you, he shall not lose his reward.'

     Joseph longed to help more of the truly needy people he had seen in his city.

     But now he had to serve and impress rich people. Learning to say the right things; to say them in French and German; to bow correctly. He had promised to obey.

     I'm a prisoner of my promises, he told himself, feeling miserable. "Please God," he prayed softly, "help me to do what is right, even if I have to give up being a prince...I'm only in training. Perhaps they won't want me at the end of the time. I want to help the homeless...the orphaned children...dear old Dolly...they were my family..." he brushed tears away as faces and names of the poor and disabled flashed across his mind. "I have to help them."

     Again, he returned to the kitchen and sorted the small food portions, those considered 'leftovers' and stale food, placing it into a large bowl. This time, he had to wake the servant to ask him to take it to the folk at the wall. The man demanded payment. Joseph replied that he owned not even a quarter of a farthing, a tad.

     "Surely you c'n oblige, young sir," the servant persisted, "in y' high and lofty position y' can give me a few tads. What are y'? A page? Surely they give y' an allowance?" His piercing eyes wandered across the rich fabric of Joseph's new tunic. "Y' can tell me what y' do, can't y'?"

     Joseph remembered his promises, and knew he could not answer this man's questions, so he said, "I...I don't have any coins at all. I...I don't receive even a tad; I have no allowance. But, keep an account; one day I'll repay you, with interest." Joseph felt sure he could go back to chopping wood if necessary.

     The servant seemed satisfied and said he would keep a 'finger account' of what Joseph owed. "One tad each night that y' want me to take the food," the servant said. "I'm real busy y' know; I have to keep this monstrous place fuelled with wood 'n coal...it's a huge task 'n I'm never done."

     Joseph swallowed; he was sure that the man would find it much more taxing after the summer, when the weather grew colder. "All right," he agreed, "a tad each night, but you must make sure that you take food every night."

     Joseph knew the tads would soon add into pennies and that after a few months, he would owe a much larger sum than 'just a few tads.'

    Queen Lois asked Sir Pippin to find an appropriate moment to discover what was troubling the prospective prince. She wanted an answer as soon as possible.

    Sir Pippin had not been as observant as the queen, but he knew Joseph was not of the happy countenance he had been when he had lived as 'Apples.'

    The adviser found Joseph in the library, doing research on a history assignment.

    After watching the lad for some while, Sir Pippin realized there would be no 'appropriate moment.' Joseph was extremely diligent about his lessons; and soon he would attend the king, for his 'king-ship lessons.'

    Dark rings under Joseph's eyes took his attention.

    "Do you sleep well, Joseph?" he asked.

    Without looking up, Joseph answered truthfully, "When I sleep, I sleep very well, Sir Pippin."

    "Are you happy, Joseph?"

    Looking up from his books, he replied, "I'm enjoying this history assignment very much, thank you, Sir."

    "You are happy in your new role?"

    "My role?"

    "Training to be crown prince," Sir Pippin persisted, adding, "Something troubles you, Joseph, and I'd like you to confide in me. I may be able to help."

     "I...I do not wish to seem ungrateful," Joseph said, wondering how to explain. "I...I...perhaps..." he smiled wryly, "I should have promised to be happy...but happiness wasn't a requirement. I...but it seems ungrateful..."

    "You've never been ungrateful, Joseph," Sir Pippin encouraged, taking a step backwards to perceive such deep pain in the lad's eyes.

    "I...I need forgiveness then," Joseph said, bowing his head, "for I have to say, I've been ungrateful..." He plunged into the center of his worries, saying, "And I felt more at home...more useful...before. I'd rather just live my life as 'Apples' if it means I can help those in need."

    "Those in need?" Sir Pippin knew of whom Joseph spoke, but wished to draw the lad out, to solve his problem. "How can I help you do this, Joseph?"

    "I...I would like to be able to earn," Joseph took a deep breath and said, "seven tad each week."

    "Less than two farthings? To help those in need?"

    Although he felt sure it was known, Joseph explained how he had been going, at night, to the kitchen to arrange for food to be taken to the poor, and how the servant had demanded payment.

    "Seven tad, would mean one tad, for each day of the week," Joseph said earnestly.

    "Food is distributed to the poor every day," Sir Pippin said, feeling he must defend the king in this matter.

    "The food is given out at the front of the castle, where all can see," Joseph said softly. "It's a good gesture, and shows that there's kindness coming from the royal castle; but those who sleep by the city wall can't walk that far--some cannot walk at all--so--perhaps they go hungry; I don't know for I promised not to leave the castle. I...I feel responsible. Every time I sit at a laden table, I think of those who have nothing. And...I do not criticize King Lemuel, no. He does give to the poor; but those I speak for are poorer than front-of-the-castle folk, and they are in more need. Is...is...seven tad too much for them, Sir?"

    Sir Pippin could not reply. Joseph was earnest in his request, he had no clue as to the vast riches of the king, and it was obvious to the king's adviser that Joseph was not about to exploit his position.

    "I'd be happy to chop wood. I could earn several pennies in one morning, and that would take care of the food..." he almost bit his tongue because he longed to be able to send a penny to the widow, but perhaps that was too much to ask.

    "I'll see what I can do," Sir Pippin said.

    Queen Lois was amazed when Sir Pippin recounted what Joseph had said. She decided she must tell her husband.

    King Lemuel pondered on the problem. He'd grown very fond of Joseph. As the lad followed him around, he found it easy to imagine this was his own son, following in his footsteps. It troubled him that Joseph did not feel at home in the castle; that he had to sneak to the kitchen to make sure the scraps were given to his friends in the city.

    Joseph may never have imperial blood, or a prince's mind, the king thought, especially if he believes he could give it all up and go back to being a beggar boy.

    "He wants to chop wood?" the king asked, unable to comprehend how Joseph could consider it.

    "Surely as a prince in training, Joseph should be able to help those who suffer poverty," the queen said seriously, "and surely he does not have to be a ragged urchin to help those in this city. He must never be allowed to go back to that kind of life, but he must be encouraged to show kindness and charity to those in need."

    King Lemuel spoke with his wife and their three advisers. "We have no hope of having a son of our own blood. We like this boy, and believe he could make a good king; the people will relate to him. We can learn from Joseph; we need more compassion for our subjects. We'll give Joseph an incentive to help him accept his role."

    Turning to Sir Pippin, the king said, "See that Joseph is given an allowance, each week. One...no, two crown, to begin. Have him keep an account of how he apportions it."

    When Sir Pippin placed the velvet pouch in Joseph's hands, the lad's eyes lit up with joy and thankfulness.

    "It's your allowance...two coins," the advisor said, a twinkle in his eye.

    "Two pennies?" Joseph said, opening the bag.

    "You underestimate your king..."

    Two crowns gleamed their golden images into Joseph's eyes. He felt his vision dancing with excitement.

    "Perhaps you do not have a use for such an allowance?" Pippin suggested.

    Smiling, Joseph pushed the coins across the table, saying, "Yes, thanks, Sir, but they need tads, farthings and pennies. Those I know, have no use for crowns."

    "You want it...both coins...changed into coppers...and tads? You'll need a small chest! Oh...and I must tell you, Joseph, you must account for it all. King Lemuel wishes to know how you spend it."

    "It will be the first time I'll enjoy writing figures, Sir Pippin," Joseph said, his happiness overflowing. He could again give help to those who could not help themselves.

    Joseph did not know yet that he would be receiving two crowns each week. He imagined this allowance would have to last him several months!

    Joseph paid the kitchen servant, whose name he learned was Floyd, two week's fee for taking the leftover food to the paupers who slept by the wall. He gave an extra tad to encourage the man.

    Then, when he asked questions about the paupers, Floyd demanded another tad, "For information," and Joseph obliged, wishing he could visit his needy friends himself.

     He wondered if he could trust Floyd to buy food for the widow and her children, or to take a small amount of money to her each week. Next time he saw Floyd, he asked, "Floyd, I'd like you to take a penny to Widow Allison. She lives in the last house on West Lane. And I'll give you two farthings for supplying her with wood."

     "I'll do it this week, but I'll have to see about it in the future...I work hard y' know, and don't have much spare time for doin' all these extras you wants."

     I used to take care of the wood and other tasks as well, Joseph remembered, feeling sure that Floyd did not work as hard as he had. He does not extend himself at all.

     At the beginning of the next week, when Sir Pippin gave him two more sovereigns, and after he recovered from the shock of owning such a handsome weekly allowance, Joseph shared the difficulty with the king's adviser.

     "I should have thought it to be obvious, young sir," Pippin said, and explained, "your allowance should buy you any and all the assistance you require, without having to use someone who already receives adequate employment here in the royal castle. Unlike yourself Joseph, when you did such work, Floyd is well paid."

     "Then, what do you advise? Who should I employ?"

     Sir Pippin beamed. As an adviser to King Lemuel, his favorite activity was to give advice. He had hoped that this young lad, who, as far as Pippin could see, was headed for the throne, would ask advice of him.

     "Now, it's this way, young sir. Because you can't make yourself known at all, it would be best if you employed a personal messenger, one to go about doing all those things that you would want to do yourself."

     "But surely someone like that would have to be greatly trusted, and, he would also require a handsome salary..."

     "Of course he'd have to be trusted," Pippin said, "and I know just the lad. He's the second son of my cousin. He's always declared he wants to live in the royal castle, like me, and, one day to advise the king. I'll ask King Lemuel if you may employ him. I'd say a quarter of a crown a month, with food and board here in the castle, would be a good starting salary for him. He may want the option of a day off sometimes, to visit with his family."

     "And he'd keep confidence?"

     "Closed as a night owl, young sir; all he'd ever ask, is 'who' and then he'd keep the rest to himself and report right back to you. That's how I started out, when King Lemuel was a lad like you. I remember an axiom that King Lemuel's own father told him..." he paused briefly, then said, "The wise old owl sat on the oak and the more he heard, the less he spoke. The less he spoke, the more he heard--we should be like that wise old bird."

     Joseph smiled and said, "I really like that quote; I shall memorize it," and he repeated it, word for word.

     "King Lemuel also liked it, young sir; and together we memorized it, when he was a young lad, about your age."

     Joseph pondered on the fact that once King Lemuel had been a young lad; it was difficult to imagine him to be any other that the absolute monarch, the kingly being he was. But once, the king too, had been a boy in this huge castle.

     "Well, young sir, do you approve of my advice?"

     "Approve? Yes, Sir Pippin, thank you. And it will be good, also, to have someone my age to talk with..."

     Sir Pippin was very pleased that his cousin's boy, Philip, was so easily placed into service in this, his castle. The boy's father had died when he was 12, and the lad's mother would be greatly honored, and relieved, to have her second son started on a good vocation, one the lad wanted himself. The eldest son, who had inherited their small estate, was able to manage it without Philip's help.

     The day Joseph received his third allowance, Philip moved into the royal castle to be Joseph's personal helper and messenger.

     Joseph's first meeting with Philip was one at which all three king's advisers were present.

     Philip was taller than Joseph, broader, and looked older than his fourteen years. His countenance emitted an aristocratic air, similar to that of his second cousin, Pippin's. Like the elder-adviser's eyes, Philip's eyes were brown, as was his glossy mop of hair, swept back and tied with a ribbon as was the fashion for young men of genteel up-bringing.

     Philip was required to make promises, somewhat similar to those Joseph had made, except that the young adviser, two years older than Joseph, was permitted to leave the royal castle at Joseph's command. He was to be 'Sir Joseph's' feet, eyes, ears, hands, and lips, upon any errand, which was to be done without hesitation or question. Philip promised 'not to question Sir Joseph's position in the castle, nor to seek knowledge of it from any other person.'

     Sir Pippin gave Philip a silver ring, a miniature of the ones all three advisers wore. They bore the crest of the crown of Justiceburg and could be used for sealing official messages.

     The only others with this ring were the three royal scribes. King Lemuel, as absolute sovereign, wore his own special ring, one of a kind.

     "You will promise only to use your ring when questioned by an elder as to your business about the city. "

     "I promise," said Philip, pushing it on his largest finger.

     "You will promise, at all times to refer to Sir Joseph, only as 'Sir.' When asked whose business you are about, you will reply, 'I am on business for Sir Pippin, of the Royal Castle.' Then, if questioned more, show your ring."

     "Yes, I understand; and, I promise," Philip replied.

     "You will promise, Philip, that if you have any questions, any disagreements about your role here, you won't discuss them with Sir Joseph, but bring them to one of us. As an adviser-in-training, you will learn to take advice from us three."

     "I promise," Philip replied.

     "Any deviation from these promises you have made, Philip, and you'll be sent home. However, upon keeping your promises and being of service to Sir Joseph, you will find yourself worthy of promotion within the royal court."

     Sir Pippin turned to Joseph, "We require you, Sir Joseph, to promise not to discuss personal matters from your past or present roles, or your future hopes with Philip; this promise is to be kept until we absolve you from it."

     "I promise," Joseph said, feeling his heart sinking. Past, present, future...it covers everything about me. I can't talk to him, unless it's about someone else; how can one have a friend who isn't able to discuss personal things?

     Philip was allocated a bedchamber next door to Joseph's and was told that Joseph's aide-de-camp, Vance, would serve both lads.

     Joseph found it hard to sleep that night; in spite of his dampening promise, he was excited. I'm only about twelve years old, but already I have a personal messenger--he's two years older. It's hard to believe. Tomorrow, I must put Philip to work. I have five crowns and a heap of tads and farthings. I'll get him to visit Widow Allison and see how she is faring with the children. And then, I want to know all about Dolly, Jill and Dan, Harry and Cherry; and Peet, Susie, Carol, Johnnie and Douglas. Philip can use my allowance to buy what they need, mind, I must make sure he only gets what they need, or they'll keep wanting more. That's what it was like when I took care of them out there; they can be like a bottomless bucket, they can.

     And, I must pray that God will make me worthy of Philip's service and trust.

     After tossing and turning for half an hour, Joseph climbed out of the bed, pulling the covers with him as other times, to sleep on the floor. Rolling himself into a cocoon, it dawned on him that a great honor had been accorded to him--he had his own personal messenger. Perhaps one day, I shall be king. Perhaps one day, I shall dare to ask Liliana to be queen...

    Philip was everything Sir Pippin had hoped he'd be. Although he often came to the elder cousin with questions about 'Sir Joseph,'--questions that could never be fully answered--Philip proved himself to be loyal, circumspect, and well able to keep a confidence.

    Greatly puzzled as to why 'Sir Joseph,' when first going to bed, and was seen by Philip to be actually in the bed, was not in found bed, the young adviser asked, "Some mornings when Vance and I have risen before Sir Joseph, and we go into his bed-chamber, we find him fast asleep on the floor. When we wake him, he's been in such a deep sleep, that I don't think he's slept very well during the night hours, but sleeps deeper, later. Why do you think this to be so, Sir Pippin?"

    "Sir Joseph's sleep habits will improve greatly, Philip. You'll have the privilege accorded to few, to see him, perhaps within the next year, sleeping all night, in the bed."

    Philip could not fathom why it would be a privilege to watch Joseph's sleep habits. He wondered if this whole exercise were not just an experiment, a test, invented for his own benefit? Philip thought, I must be all the more diligent with my commission to serve Sir Joseph...but, it's all so peculiar, very peculiar...

    Sir Pippin was proud of his cousin's son, he wished he had a son like him, but his wife had died in childbirth with their first child, and the babe had died within her. Pippin's life and family, was totally contained within the castle walls, with the king's needs and wishes.

    As for Joseph, he was delighted with Philip's service. He discovered all he needed to know about Widow Allison and the small children living with her, now numbering nine.

    "The boy, Marvin, almost died last week," Philip told the attentive Joseph. "He suffered three bee stings on one arm, and this was followed by a dreadful fever, but with the widow's care, he recovered. Widow Allison said that soon she won't need charity. She's working at gaining a regular income from the sale of a tonic she makes for babies and small children. It's in much demand, she told me, and she's almost run off her feet, with producing the tonic and minding the children. I suggested she use the coins you sent, Sir, to hire home help, child care, and someone to assist in the production of the tonic."

    "That's marvelous!" Joseph exclaimed, knowing that his worries about the widow were over; his prayers for her had been answered.

    "Then, Sir, she accepted the money, as she said she's been a bit short, but only as a loan; she wants to repay it."

    "And did she believe you when you told her that a benefactor from the castle had sent it?"

    "Yes, she did, Sir. And she smiled, saying it was an answer to her prayer."

    Joseph wondered if she remembered 'Apples.'

    News about the paupers by the wall, however, was not so heartening.

    "Dolly has passed on," Philip reported, "and so has a blind man named Dan. But, Sir, evidently, over the past few months, the numbers have risen; there are over fifty sleeping out there, when once there were only about thirty, they say. And I agree with you, Sir, something should be done about those poor homeless people."

    "Tell me about it, Philip; what it was like..."

    "Well, Sir, I wasn't really wanting to say, but, yes, I promised to answer your questions, didn't I? Well, when I went with Floyd to take the kitchen leftovers, there was a...a dreadful battle..."

    "A battle?"

    "Well, Sir, I don't quite know how else to describe it--perhaps it was more like a scramble; they were rather more like animals than people, all so hungry and all so very disabled; but then, some of them there were taking more than they needed and did not seem so...so disadvantaged. One poor cripple couldn't even get any food, and neither could the blind lady who was with her; she was quite young, too, actually, she, she seemed different somehow..."

    "You're referring to Cherry and Jill," Joseph said sadly, "she's a lady, Jill. I believe she came from a very well to do family who cast her out because she went blind after an illness. They treated her as if she was dead already..."

    "Oh, that's terrible," Philip said spontaneously, sincere. Having been brought up in an upper-class family, he could never have imagined such poverty happening to someone like Jill. He thought of his younger sister, and his eyes filled with tears. Then, his thoughts flew to Joseph and he blurted, "Oh, Sir, were you once cast out, like that?"

    Knowing that he could not answer Philip's question, Joseph asked one of his own, "As my adviser, Philip, I wish you to work on ideas and propositions as to what we can do for the disabled and homeless people who are not able to beg. Perhaps we could use my allowance to secure accommodation and care for them..."

    "I'll work on it Sir, I will," Philip said, and drew a deep breath. He had broken one of his promises, and Joseph had chosen not to record it to report it against him. I'll have to speak to Cousin Pippin about it, he told himself.

    But Sir Pippin wasn't accusative when he heard Philip's confession, "Unless you have a reported deviation against you; forget it. Sir Joseph is keeping his promise by not speaking of his past. It will be difficult for you both, but it will prove of great benefit for your future together."

    To Philip, this sounded like a riddle, and he had no idea as to the answer.

     It was an hour before dawn. Joseph sat up suddenly, awakened with a disquieting impression. His first thought vanished for a moment, as he was pleased to find he had slept so well, and, he was still in the large bed.

     He knew that every time Philip and Vance, and sometimes Sir Pippin, came into his bedchamber, they disapproved of him sleeping on the floor.

     Vance's unspoken opinion was obvious to Joseph; animals sleep on the floor, people sleep in beds...

     Jumping out of bed, Joseph dressed in the clothes that had been set out by Vance the previous night. Vance would be peeved that he had not been there when Joseph dressed, as the aide-de-camp considered it his task to dress him. Joseph pulled on the vest over his tunic, thinking how simple a task it was, to dress himself.

     To Joseph, it seemed Vance was unnecessarily in the way, but when he had spoken to Pippin about it, the adviser supported the king's wishes.

     Then, when he laced the elaborate boots, he wished Vance was there; he threaded the laces through the wrong holes, and try as he could, was unable to right it. Pulling the boots off, he went to the walk-in closet and selected a pair of soft moccasin slippers from the lower shelf.

     Sir Pippin had told him, "Vance is your mirror to make sure you are dressed properly; and at this time of your life, it's important that you learn to allow a valet to assist you, so that in the future it's part of your accepted routine."

     To Joseph, it seemed that there were a lot of words said about nothing that really mattered.

     Joseph descended the castle steps and hurried along the quiet corridors to the kitchen. The staff was used to his face and took no notice of him.

     "Where's Floyd?" he asked.

     "He's fetching coal, so it'll be here to stoke the stove after breakfast is served; and not too soon, we're out, we are," the servant said dourly, as he stirred one of the huge cauldrons. These cauldrons would feed all the people in the castle. The king and queen ate this same porridge for breakfast, which made Joseph feel agreeable. At least he himself, one day, as king, would not be taking preferential treatment and causing extra expense by demanding exotic foods as one could imagine a king could do.

     However, during certain seasons, King Lemuel and Queen Lois were partial to having fresh fruit chopped and stirred into the porridge, and Joseph, having tasted this luxury, could well see how it could become a preference.

     He remembered how good it was to eat the apples from the trees in the orchard, but as they belonged to no one in particular, they were soon gone, taken to be sold by those who saw extra income from the free fruit. Last season, Joseph had climbed the trees and picked apples to take to Widow Allison to be dried, then he shared in the dried stores, last winter, when fresh fruit was unobtainable.

     Joseph strode around the outside of the castle, to a crook in the inner wall, where Floyd shoveled coal into a large square bucket with wheels. He waited until Floyd, having seen him, stopped working. Leaning on the shovel, the man stared at him resentfully, waiting.

     "Floyd, I'm puzzling about something, and would like a truthful answer; did you take the penny, and the wood, to the widow?"

     Floyd's eyes roved everywhere, but he did not look at Joseph's face as he replied, "Course I did."

     "Did Widow Allison accept the penny, and the wood?"

     Floyd stared right into Joseph's eyes, silent for a moment, then he replied, "She didn't want it; said she didn't want no charity..."

     "Then what did you do with it?"

     Floyd's eyes wandered to the coal bin and he shrugged, saying, "The wood came here, of course; what else did y' expect?"

     "What about the food, for the paupers?"

     "Well, I took that there, didn't I? Y' gave me a tad for doin' that, didn't y'?"

     Joseph persisted, asking, "You took food every night?"

     "I took it with that page fellow--messenger--the one what took me to see them all..."

     "But you didn't take the food every night?"

     "What for? They weren't hungry at all. Any ways, I got much more importint fings to do w' me life, I have, and if it will please y' now, I'd like to get this here coal to the kitchen fires, before they in there all criticize me; the cook can be a right royal mouth, she can; and the chef in the afternoons; and I'm getting sick of it, it makes it not worthwhile in the end..." Turning away, he dug the shovel into the coal as if he were killing a deadly snake. Flinging its contents into the bucket, he yelled, "Well, get on with y'; don't hold me up; you've wasted too much o' me time already." Turning back again, he muttered, "I hate this black stuff; 'n all this hot work!"

     "Why did you not return the money to me?" Joseph had to ask.

     "Look! I did the job! I went there for y', didn't I? And y' have more money than y' knows what t' do with. I know people who need it more than y', anyways..." Floyd caught view of Philip approaching and yelled, "Oh, no, not that pushy, overpaid peacock--pup--to waste me time now! Well, I'm not stopping, or I won't start again; take y' lazy limbs somewheres else!"

     Joseph turned away, his eyes on Philip's surprised face. Joseph led the way to a side door. Together they bounded up the steps and walked back to their quarters.

     As Joseph sat heavily in an armchair, Philip asked, "What was that all about?"

     Joseph recounted the situation, word for word, to Philip, then said, "I've got a full day today; aside from all of my lessons, I'm to have my first riding lesson this afternoon, and that will be an experience, I'm sure; so I'll have to leave it in your hands, Philip, as to what to do."

     "What...what do you think I should do, Sir?" Philip asked. He did not want to confront Floyd and demand the money back; he was likely to get punched! "Floyd's so bad-tempered, Sir; he wants to blame everyone else for his own laziness. He wants everything for nothing, Sir."

     "Check with Widow Allison that she never received the penny, but that she told Floyd it was charity; and that she refused the wood; and, the paupers, go first, if you like; find out how many times Floyd took food to them. Write it down, Philip. After that, we'll ask Sir Pippin's advice about Floyd."

     "He's a downright underhanded thief!" Philip declared.

     "He shouldn't be allowed to get away with it," Joseph said, agreeing, then standing, saying, "Well, let's go to breakfast..."

     "You'd better see Vance first, Sir; he was upset that you'd gone from your bed...dressed without him..."

     "Oh, bother; but I'll skip Vance's condemning stares of disapproval, and we'll go to breakfast."

     "But Sir, you're wearing moccasins; and your vest is on inside out--look; see the inside threads, and the hand stitching of the side seams," he grinned, pleased that Joseph laughed at himself as he looked down at the vest, and beyond, his ankles bare in the soft slippers.

     "You're right, Philip; I can't breakfast with the king and queen of Justiceburg like this, can I? I'd better find Vance, and give him my apologies."

     Joseph's morning flew. His lessons absorbed him; he worked hard, and enjoyed them. The tutors had not told the lad, but the king had been informed; Joseph was a very intelligent young man, his learning and retention three times more than that of others his age. "After being told once, he does not forget."

    "His questions are stretching our resources," one tutor told the king, the others agreeing.

     "His grasp of both German and French is outstanding," the language tutor said. "After just a few weeks, he is able to converse, though simply, in both languages. I'm astounded."

     Karl, the son of the language tutor, was the young palace guard delegated to watch over Joseph, and today, to teach Joseph to ride. He had selected a docile mare for the lad to mount, and expected to spend the afternoon demonstrating to Joseph how to mount and dismount; how to sit and how to control the animal by use of the reins.

     First of all, Karl wanted Joseph to know that it was not as easy as it appeared, and, with a bit of pride, to show off his own skills.

     "Well, then, get up on the saddle, Sir," Karl said, as Joseph stood and stared at the high rump of the gray mare.

     "Perhaps, Karl, you'll show me how you do it," Joseph asked, wondering that the young man had not thought of this. Karl was the best rider there was, Sir Pippin had said.

     With a deft action, Karl placed his left boot into the stirrup and swung his right leg over the back of the horse to sit astride the creature that did not move. Just as expertly, Karl dismounted.

     Joseph stared at the saddle, the height of it, and mentally calculated the twist of body Karl had performed. Well, I can climb trees, and swim; and it was said that my father, a soldier, was a rider--he died in a riding accident--I might die just mounting this thing, if I don't get it right. I don't want to disgrace myself and land face down. He hesitated, performing the action in his mind, wanting to gain the momentum to push up from the ground as Karl had done.

     "Don't be afraid; the horse won't bolt," Karl encouraged, grinning; about to say, "We all have to go through this initiation..." when Joseph copied Karl's previous mounting of the horse, almost perfectly.

     Seated astride on the animal, Joseph took the reins in his hands, drawing them in as he had seen others do, asking, "What do I do next?"

     Karl mounted his own horse and drew it close to the mare, saying, "Touch the horse's sides with your heels, flick the reins, and we'll be off."

     Later, cantering back to the castle, Karl called, "You've done this before Sir, haven't you?"

     "Never; and I have a very sore rump to prove it!"

     Joseph felt exhilarated. He knew he was going to enjoy riding! This was the first time he'd been permitted to leave the castle and go out into the countryside. Although Karl had taken a different road from the one to Chester Castle, Joseph already had dreams of riding out to see Liliana, his unforgotten love.

     "You need to sit more erect in the saddle; square your shoulders and lean back more, don't slump forward," Karl said after the horses had been taken to the stables, "but after your first lesson today, I say we jump to stage four."

     "Stage four?" Joseph asked.

     "You can ride something with more spirit tomorrow," Karl promised. "I'll select a young gelding for you; that will give you more to hold on to and control, beneath the reins. Next week, you can ride a stallion like mine."

     Feeling hot and sweaty after the hour-long lesson, most of which he had spent in the saddle, Joseph sent for Vance and said, "I'd like a hot bath, Vance, please."

     "A...a hot bath, Sir?" Joseph had always commanded cold water for his baths.

     "Yes; and put some of that stuff you told me about, in it, you know, salts, for aches and pains." He saw the surprise on Vance's face and said, "I sat in a saddle for almost an hour; it was like nothing I've ever done before. Karl said I did extremely well, but I'm sure I'll have bruises...all that bouncing, up and down!"

     Vance smiled, delighted. At last his young master wanted a hot bath, and hadn't he slept in his bed, all night? Not one of the bedclothes had been on the floor this morning. Things were progressing.

     After the bath, and knowing that he should be attending the king, Joseph looked for Philip. He was not in any of their usual places of rendezvous, and when Joseph joined King Lemuel in his counsel chamber, Philip was not with the other three counselors as he was often found to be when Joseph had completed his lessons.

     It's taking Philip much longer to gain the information than I expected, Joseph mused, trying to keep his mind upon the matters King Lemuel discussed.

     The session finished early and Joseph decided to search for Philip. He had not stepped far along the corridor, when a messenger brought a scroll to him, saying; "A man brought this scroll to our door, and said that it was to be placed into Sir Joseph's hands, and none other; well, here it is, Sir."

     Joseph stared at the address, written in Philip's even hand-writing; "Sir Joseph, from Philip; for Sir Joseph's eyes only." It was sealed with candle wax, impressed with Philip's crown ring, making it very official at the castle.

     Joseph felt his heart leap in his chest; such a strange thing, this scroll from Philip; he did not know why he felt it, but he knew it was a message with ill tidings.

     Breaking the seal, Joseph unrolled the scroll. He read, "Sir; it's with a heavy heart that I write this message; but I'm being held by those who believe you have the resources to purchase my ransom. Just before sunset, a man wearing a brown fur hat will attend you, near the paupers' place in the wall, to collect the ransom of one hundred gold crowns to secure my release. To authenticate this message, that the man is able to release me, he will give you my silver crown ring. I've been told to write that if you tell anyone of this message, and one hundred crown are not given over, then my life will be floydfeit and you will be able to retrieve my remains from the river at dawn tomorrow. "

     It was signed, "Philip Tomas Steven Vermont."

     Tears surged to Joseph's eyes and he rebuked himself, this is not a time to shed tears! Philip is not dead; and if I give the ransom, he won't be. I must believe he will live! Taking a deep breath, Joseph rolled the scroll and hurried to the kitchen. Two castle guards were there, shoveling coal into the stoves whilst another wheeled the bucket away, having stocked the bin with its contents.

     "Where's Floyd?" he asked, not of anyone in particular. The dinner chef looked across at Joseph and answered, "No one's seen him since he quit his task this morning, right after breakfast; he left the kitchen with no fuel and told no one about his leaving, either. If we don't get these fires hot, we won't be able to serve dinner on time tonight."

     "He'll be in trouble when he returns," one burly soldier said. It was extremely irregular for him to have to perform this lesser task.

     Joseph drew another deep breath, feeling as if he was on the crest of a tidal wave; he knew who had instigated this dastardly deed, but he had no idea how to deal with it.

     His mind flew to Sir Pippin, and the king; he himself had made a pledge that he would not leave the castle. Did Philip's life not mean more than his promise? He decided that it did. Philip has to live...I'll not accept that his remains will be collected tomorrow morning; but Floyd has to be captured; he must not be allowed to get away with this.

     Philip is worth much more than a hundred crowns; I'd give a thousand and that wouldn't be enough! But I don't think Floyd will want to be caught, and Philip will be able to name him. What a quandary. What shall I do? What shall I do?

    Hurrying up to his quarters, Joseph entered the sitting chamber that both he and Philip shared. Moving out on the balcony, he dropped to his knees.

     "Oh Dear God in Heaven; I need your help. Protect Philip; spare his life. Help me to do what's right; not just what I want to do. And please, give me wisdom in this matter; help me not to break my promise, yet help me to rescue Philip."

     Breathing heavily, Joseph knew that wrong moves could hasten Philip's death. Castle and city soldiers joining together to deal with this abduction would mean that the kidnappers would scatter. "Kidnappers," Joseph breathed the word. "Yes, there'll be more than just Floyd. Did he not speak of others this morning who need money more that I do? What else did Floyd say? I must find out where Philip is being held. A bunch of thieves--that's who Floyd would mean--people who 'need' money--and Floyd, if he'd done this alone, he wouldn't have asked for a hundred crown, he likely would have wanted ten, or perhaps twenty..."

     Unrolling the scroll, Joseph told himself he must slow down his thoughts, and use wisdom to work through any clues that Philip may have included in the ransom note. As he reread the note, the word 'floydfeit' flew out at him. He had been right; Floyd was involved. Although the 'l,' the 'y,' and the 'd' were camouflaged in the word 'forfeit,' nevertheless they were there, making the name, 'Floyd.' There was not another spelling error on the scroll; just perhaps the name, Tomas; it usually was spelt with a Th. Joseph prayed for understanding as to what this meant, but the answer did not come to his racing mind.

     "Philip, Tomas, Steven, Vermont; and the 'TOM, the ST, and the V, are all larger letters than even the 'P' for Philip. TOM--ST--V; what could it be, other than a person, or perhaps a place? The place where Philip is being held?"

     Joseph rolled the scroll and prayed again, "Lord, I trust in You; and You've promised that if we acknowledge You in all our ways, You'll guide us. So, Lord, please, direct me now. Tell me how I can keep my promise, yet leave this castle to help Philip."

     Joseph bumped into Sir Pippin as the lad hurried from his sitting room into the corridor.

     "Well young man, yes, you should be in a hurry; we're waiting for you to join us--you left your place, Joseph," Pippin smoothed the chain he wore around his neck and straightened the medallion hanging low on his chest.

     "Sir Pippin; what's your cousin, Philip's, full name?"

     Frowning at such an unexpected question, Pippin then answered, "Why, it's Philip Charles, and Pippin of course."

     "Philip Charles, Pippin, of course," Joseph said. Side stepping, he said, "I must attend the king, Sir Pippin."

     Before the adviser could reply, "That's what we're supposed to be doing," Joseph was gone, walking as fast as he could without running, then bolting down the stone steps, hurrying to the counsel chambers where he expected the king to be. But King Lemuel was not there. Joseph raced up the steps to meet Pippin awaiting him at the top.

     "In the library, Sir," Pippin said, adding as Joseph ran ahead, "We're looking at some of the ancient laws of Justiceburg. And you're not supposed to run, Sir!"

     Joseph dived into the library, and found the king seated at a desk, surrounded by his scribes, two military leaders, and the other two counselors.

     Breathing heavily, Joseph wove his way to the desk.

     "Ah, Joseph," King Lemuel said, his tired eyes lighting up a little before clouding to see Joseph's ashen face.

     Joseph dropped to his knees. Taking the king's right hand in his, he kissed the king's seal ring as he had seen others do when they had a burdensome request.

     Looking up, Joseph waited for the king to speak.

     "What is it Joseph? What grieves you?" King Lemuel knew there was both pain and fear within the familiar blue eyes, such that he had not seen there before.

     "I've kept every promise I made to you, Sire; I've kept them with all my heart, Sire." Joseph bowed his head, praying for the right words.

     "Yes, Joseph; you've not failed me in any matter. In fact, Joseph, you have done more...better...that we expected."

     The men all nodded their heads; and Pippin, who had joined the group, also nodded, but his heart was in his mouth. The adviser suddenly feared Joseph was going to give up everything, for some unknown problem that had occurred.

     "Sire, I promised not to leave the castle walls, other than directed by yourself, Sire. I...I have a need to leave the castle walls, Sire; for...for perhaps two, or three hours, Sire; and I will return, then..."

     Silence followed Joseph's request.

     "Sire, I need you to trust me, that I will return."

     "Joseph; we need you to trust us; we need you to explain your purpose in going," the king wisely counterbalanced.

     Bowing his head, Joseph said, "Sire, it's my fault. If I had not wanted to care for the paupers, and the widow, then it wouldn't have happened; and the allowance--it would have been better if I'd never had it. I just want the opportunity to put it all right again, Sire."

     The king, frowning, looked up at Pippin, who also frowned. The men looked around at each other, meeting eyes with eyes, but no clues could be gained from their glances. The lad's words made not a scrap of sense.

     Squaring his shoulders, and blinking away tears, Joseph again kissed the king's ring. He stood. All in the room expected him to declare that he would take his leave. The moment had arrived; for some reason, Joseph felt he could no longer carry on.

     The lad's shoulders slumped, and he knew in an instant that to try and make the rescue, alone, was too great; if something went wrong--he had to have the king's approval and his assistance.

     "I do trust you, Sire, and I need your advice; but, I just beg that you hear me through on this matter, that you give me the opportunity first to put it right."

     The men in the chamber all had questions on their tongues, but waited for their king to speak.

     "If you've done wrong, Joseph, and admit it, then we'll give you the opportunity to right it," the king replied, wondering, wanting the lad to explain his dilemma. The pain in Joseph's eyes was like a barb to the king's heart, and in that instant, he loved the boy as a father did a son. Only by drawing on his deepest reserve of self-control, could the king prevent tears from rising. However, the advisers and scribes, those closest to him, perceived King Lemuel's emotions; the slow blinking of his eyes which were glistening more than usual.

     Without speaking, Joseph laid the scroll in front of the king who looked at the scroll, then, with dismay on his face, stared back at Joseph. He believed Joseph had written a formal letter of resignation.

     "Read it to us, Joseph," the king commanded.

     "Oh, Sire; that's so difficult," Joseph blurted.

     "But you wrote it, Joseph, did you not?"

     "No, Sire," Joseph said, then in a low voice, divulged, "it...it's from Philip..." He turned the scroll over so the outside address could be seen.

     "Then read it out, Pippin," the king ordered.

     "No, please Sire; it would be too difficult for...for Sir Pippin...to...to read. Let...allow me, Sire...and...and perhaps, Sir Pippin, you...you should sit down." Joseph stammered, taking up the scroll. Pippin did not sit, but stepped closer, his face growing graver by the second.

     "It's from Philip, and it...it was written to me--Sir; it's with a heavy heart that I write this message; but I'm being held by those who believe you have the resources to purchase my ransom. Just before sunset, a man wearing a brown fur hat will attend you, near the paupers' place in the wall, to collect the ransom of one hundred gold crowns to secure my release. To authenticate this message, that the man is able to release me, he will give you my silver crown ring. I've been told to write that if you tell anyone of this message, and one hundred crown are not given over, then my life will be flord...ford...for..." Joseph struggled and swallowed, and waited, breathing heavily, then stammering, "for-feit, and...and...and you...you will be able to...to retrieve my...my remains from the river...at...at dawn tomorrow. It's signed, Philip Tomas Steven Vermont."

     An ominous silence circled the library chamber when Joseph finished. Pippin leaned both hands, heavily, on the desk, bowing his head. No one dared speak, but waited for the king. Then, when the king did not speak, exclamations, questions, and statements of denouncement of the murderous kidnappers broke out. No one gave any answers, or hope of a rescue.

     Joseph's mind was upon the larger letters of Philip's signature: 'TOM--ST--V,"--and his memory told him the place--a place simple city folk called 'Tombstone Valley,' a rock-strewn gully just outside Justiceburg, a deserted area from where legends had grown that spirits of ghosts and goblins haunted the land, day and night, waiting for the time when some of the human shaped rocks would change into bodies they could inhabit. Deep caves at the bottom of the gully, were suitable for robbers to hide in.

     Joseph remembered playing in the caves of Tombstone Valley when he was small; he had played, and slept there with other orphan children, until they had been scared away by older vagrants and nomads.

     The perfect place to wait with a kidnapped hostage, Joseph thought. He shivered, then lifted his head, waiting; he knew the ultimate decision was in the king's hands.

     When the chamber was quiet again, and Pippin had stood to his full height, the king asked, "You have...a plan, Joseph...some kind of rescue plan? You know who may have done this...this dastardly deed?"

     Joseph's heart leapt with hope; this was his chance to explain to the king that an army of soldiers was not needed, but that he, with a few trusted helpers, and with God's help, could rescue Philip.

     "You have a plan?" the king repeated his question, kindly, but with more urgency.

     "Yes, Sire," Joseph replied, then said, "I don't discount the resources, the man-power that you have at your command, Sire, but I believe the ultimate end of this matter is that Philip is returned here, alive and unharmed. And, Sire, that if the kidnappers, as the note reads, if they believe I've told anyone at all, then...then..." Joseph's voice became a whisper as he said, "they'll kill Philip; but Sire, I have a bad feeling they plan to do that any way."

     "Oh no; dear God, no," Pippin moaned, and turned, his eyes searching for something upon which he could sit.

     Captain Randell quickly brought a chair. As one of the heads of the king's army, he was intensely concerned with this abduction; the handsome young Philip, second cousin of Sir Pippin. As for Joseph; Captain Randell had often seen him about the castle, and often in the king's presence, but other than perhaps being an adviser-in-training, as was Philip; the Captain had never been specifically told of Joseph's role in the castle. And because Joseph, other than to ride that very day, never left the perimeter of the castle walls, no security had to be arranged for him. That Joseph was someone very important to the king had just been demonstrated to Captain Randell and his peer, Berman.

     "Outline your plan, Joseph, and Captains Randell and Berman will advise us of its merit..."

    Joseph, having visually searched the pauper's place at the wall, hurried across the terraces beside the river to where the disabled often sunned themselves. Deftly jumping over a low wall, he silently approached Harry, the blind pauper and crouched beside him. He wished that his feet did not smart so much. They had become softened because he had been indoors, wearing boots and shoes. But to wear shoes of any description, now, would be to give away his disguise.

    Me? Disguised? he mused, realizing that he had changed. No longer was he the ragged 'Apples,' and it had taken this charade for him to realize just how much he had altered, both inwardly and outwardly.

    "Who's it?" the man asked sharply, turning his sightless face towards the shadow he had felt take away the warmth of the late afternoon sun.

    "Harry; I need your help," Joseph spoke softly in the man's ear.

    "Apples--or is it yer ghost?" the man shot both hands out, grasping Joseph's face, feeling it, his hands ruffling the boy's longer hair, then dropping to the lad's shoulders, feeling all the way down the frayed, tattered clothes, grasping both hands in his gnarled grasp. "You've growed some. Only you could creep up on me like that when I'm not almost asleep. We thought you was dead."

    Joseph did not answer, but said, "I need your help, Harry." Joseph drew the blind man to his feet, pressing a farthing into his hand, asking urgently, "Did you overhear somebodies discussing stealing a kid for ransom?"

    Harry bit on the farthing, to check its authenticity, then whispered, "Yeh, you know we hear 'bout most ev'rythin'. But it'd be worth more than me life to tell anyones about it...I'd likely end up in the river too..."

    Joseph's heart leapt with pain; he was on the right track, but maybe it was too late, "All I need to know, Harry, is, how many of them were there--and is the kid still alive yet?"

    "Oh, yeah; he not be done for, they say, till midnight; and there weren't that many; only three or four; they didn't want to share the ransom too many ways...and I heard some'it that I'm not sure I should repeat t' y'."

    "I've another farthing, Harry, that could be of use to you," Joseph urged, convinced that a few farthings would buy all the secrets he required. Captain Randell had not believed that Joseph could use mere farthings to gain relevant information. Upon the Captain's command, Joseph had brought another bag with him, containing 10 crowns, to use if larger bribes were needed.

    "Where'd y' get them?" Harry asked, again biting on the farthing. "Still choppin' wood?"

    "No, I've another job, a permanent one; not out in city places, but in a different spot," Joseph replied, knowing that Harry would respond to receiving a little 'personal knowledge.'

    "They looked for y'--all around," Harry said, "Folks was even sayin' about gettin' someone t' drag the river for y' body, but then, 'cos ya was no one valuebull, they officials left it off--it'd cost so much, and none of us had anything. But then, there was that rich young girl from the castle wot was askin' around about y'--Lillie something--she came herself she did, right down here, and to the orchard, too, cryin' an' all--I even heard her--that is, when her father came and fetched her home; now that was a scene it was...yeh! Course, like y' know, I seed nothin' so I really knows nothin'--nothin' at all. So I cain't be quoted on at all."

    Joseph felt his heart beating quicker. Liliana. But he could not think of her right now, he must keep his mind upon his task; Philips' rescue. It was less than two hours to sunset, and he only had until then; then Captain Randell would bring out the king's soldiers--an army of over 500 would scour the city and surrounding locations, beginning at Tombstone Valley. If Joseph hadn't returned by then, they would be searching for him as well as for Philip.

    Joseph had expressed surprise that Captain Randell had 500 men-at-arms available, at call; then Captain Berman had boasted they could call another 1,500 if need be; those who were 'off duty' and who lived in the city and nearby. "That's not leaving the castle under guarded either," Captain Berman had asserted.

    The captains had been reluctant about Joseph's plan, but, not knowing the lad's importance, they had agreed. Indeed, the plan, successfully implemented, could well mean that Philip's valuable life was spared. This scrawny teenager, who declared he had been to Tombstone Valley and played in the caves, may just make the rescue that he seemed so positive, 'with God's help,' he could, they agreed.

    "Here, give this one to Jill--how is she?" Joseph asked, pressing another farthing into Harry's hand.

    "She's gone to hide across the city in the old ruin," Harry said, "Like, she wanted to keep out o' the way...with them, like, y' know; planning to come here later..." realizing he had said too much, Harry bowed his head.

    "They're hiding out at Tombstone Valley, aren't they?" Joseph asked.

    "I'm not sayin'--but I'm not sayin' y'r wrong," Harry said, then lifted his head nervously, asking, "But don't you get involved in this; it ain't anything t' do w' y'."

    "Y' never saw me, Harry," Joseph said, lifting his head to look up over the wall, up the terraces, to see if anyone was in sight. Near the wall, at the top of the terraces, he saw Karl, as planned, slouching against the wall, dressed as a pauper. Not another person was in sight. All the other paupers were greatly intimidated by those who had spoken about this deed within the hearing of the blind folk.

    A similar situation had occurred many years ago. Joseph had been told by blind old Dan, of a plot to break into the castle, and Joseph himself had warned a castle guard about the matter, and the plot had been foiled. None of the 'wall paupers' had slept by the wall for a month after that, fearing repercussions from acquaintances of the felons.

    Justiceburg folk often held grudges for years.

    "I ain't saw nothin'," Harry said, then emitted a short guffaw. Seriously, he asked, "Do y' consider I should move meself from here, Joseph--I jest wanted t' be 'round; y' know me, I like t' hear th' action."

    "You'd be wise to take yourself off to a safer place," Joseph advised, "Tap your way along the wall, and go around to the old ruin, with the others; you'll be safer with the group, Harry." He touched the man's shoulder and leapt down, moving to the river, where he dove in, swimming strongly, over-arm, across to the other side.

    Karl had been frustrated that Joseph planned to swim the river, it meant that he was left out of the action on the other side, over the fields, beyond West Woods, down in the gulch that Joseph had claimed was known as 'Tombstone Valley.'

    Joseph peered through the brush, looking down on Tombstone Valley. Already the valley was plunged into shadow; he knew he had about an hour until sunset; then the king's soldiers would move in.

    Slithering on his stomach, Joseph worked his way across the rim at the top of the valley. Feeling fear rise within him, he stopped to pray. I need you to guide, me, Lord; help me find Philip; help me to rescue him.

    Joseph recalled vividly, King Lemuel's face, as he had charged him not to take unnecessary risks; "We don't want to lose you both," the king had said, with an anxiety in his voice that he could not restrain.

    Joseph again realized how different his life was now; he was growing unused to this outdoor experience. If I had my way, he told himself fiercely, I'd never lose my skills of the outdoors; look at me now; I even feel afraid to be out here alone! I need all the nerve I can muster to help me through this. I need the courage of David facing Goliath, the trust of Job, the wisdom of Solomon, and the dependence of Daniel in the lions' den...

    Joseph continued around the rim, and then at a more concealed place, he began to slither downward, downward, feeling sure that the criminals would have someone posted as a lookout. He prayed he would not happen upon the sentry, but that he would somehow find their lair, the place where Philip was being held. If he could free Philip, and they could hide until sunset, then the king's soldiers would rescue them.

    This was the plan; but as Captain Randell had warned, with murderous brigands, nothing could really be expected to run to a 'plan.'

    Joseph saw a 'tombstone' figure ahead. He slithered to the tall rock and leaned his back upon it, catching his breath. When he was breathing normally, he snaked around the rock and across to another, on and on, crawling closer to the hillside where the caves were situated.

    He saw the mouth of one cave, close now, yawning its mouth at him, and prepared to stand and run to it.

    "Aha! What do we have here?"

    Joseph was pounced upon and pinned to the ground, a sharp dagger blade at his throat. The man, in his soft deep voice, whispered, "Well, answer, and keep it quiet; what are you doin' coming down like that on us, secret like?"

    "I...I was trying to get to the cave down here...to where someone can hide," Joseph bluffed, yet knew he told the truth. His mind raced; how could he get out of this dilemma? He realized he must change his speech to fit his clothes.

    "And who's it that you be to hiding from?"

    "I...I got some'it that some folks might want...and...and city soldiers might be lookin' for me..."

    The man released Joseph, and dragged him to stand; yet still pointing the dagger at him, demanding, "Show me! What did you steal?"

    Feeling so grateful to Captain Randell, that he was almost overcome, Joseph said, "Aw, it's mine, it is..." then, as the man pushed the point of the dagger at him threateningly, he added, "well, I c'n share it if y' want." Pulling the bag of farthings off his rope belt, he tendered it.

    Snatching the bag, the man, rubbed the coins together within the bag so that he could tell they were farthings. "A nice little catch, but I'm not fooled! You weren't hidin' from city soldiers for this lot!" He jabbed the dagger upwards, into the air, moving closer to Joseph who, backing away, pulled the other bag from his rope belt. The lad threw the bag down and dropped to his knees, plucking up the grass as he had seen one of the paupers do when they threw a tantrum at not having grabbed enough food to eat.

    "Ah, there, now that's more like it," the man said, rubbing the gold coins together in the thin sack bag. "Awe, don't take it so hard like; p'raps before the night's out, I'll give y' one or two back agin. Now, git in that there cave, not ahind y'--over there, the next one; we'll talk about how y' got passed our lookout up there on the top. Y're a slimy one--p'raps we'll take you along wiv' us." He grinned.

    Joseph turned and walked ahead of his captor, his head bowed, eyes cast downward. He cowered as the large man strode to his side, draping his muscular arm around his shoulder, saying, "Tell me where y' got such a catch--it's pretty good for a young'un like y'self."

    "From rich folks wot had lots to spare," Joseph said, speaking to the ground he walked on.

    "Well, don't feel so bad about it now; there's more out there, y' know; much more."

    The cave was dark, but the man drew Joseph inward.

    "Hoy! Show the light; we can't see the way!" he called.

    A slim guard drew a thick canvas-like cover back from a narrow opening in the rock at the side of the cave. Joseph's heart sank. Unless the king's soldiers had torches, they would never find them in this dark hidden place. At the man's push, Joseph went ahead to enter the cave beyond. Dim light greeted his dilated eyes.

    "Who've that you got with you, Jardie?" the rasping voice asked, then Joseph saw the man's face and his heart leapt. At first glance, he looked like Floyd.

    "An accomplice, that's who. One who's after me own heart," the burly Jardie replied. "I'd jest like t' know how he got pass' that brother of you'n."

    "Pooh! Floyd'd let an elephant pass, he would; we jes' thought it'd be easier for us later, if he didn't know we was here; in case like he did get away, or got caught, or some'it."

    A female voice came from the back of this cave, "Well, it's time to move; you'd better get that fur hat, Jardie, and get yourself across the river to the place of rendezvous."

    "Ronday what?" Jardie asked, then, "I've got more'n half-hour; I reckon on it only takin' quarter t' get there."

    Joseph examined this new cave; it seemed familiar, but smaller than he remembered.

    "Sit over there, and wait till we find y' some'it useful t' do," Jardie commanded, then, "Look what I found the lad had stolen..." with that, Jardie threw the bag with the farthings in it, to the young woman, "you can have it all, Poisy, all for y' own."

    Joseph sat on the rocky ground, drawing his feet in, circling them with his arms, behaving as if he were afraid, which he was.

    Catching the bag deftly, Poisy tipped it into her palm. Finding her palm too small, she knelt before a small candlelight, emptying the farthings on the ground. While she counted the stash, Joseph's eyes flew to the back of the cave. Poisy had been in the way before, but now he could see the outline of a person, lying as if trussed up, not moving. He hoped that Philip was not unconscious, or worse; how could they escape? He had no hope of the soldiers finding them in here without someone, namely, Philip, or himself, being harmed.

    They think I'm one of them; I need to use this to help Philip. But, how do I escape from here, with Philip?

    Memories from the past flooded his mind, and he closed his eyes, rocking himself as he huddled on his haunches. There had been caves that connected, one with another, he remembered crawling between them, playing 'hidies' with his orphaned friends. How would he remember which cave he was in now?

    "Now, then, you; what's y' name?" Jardie said, as he stared down at Joseph, "what'd they call y'?"

    "Appie," Joseph said, for want of a reply; he remembered a small child who couldn't say 'Apples,' calling him that.

    "Well, Appie, d' y' want a share in our quest, or what?"

    "Corse I do," Joseph replied.

    "Well, you can stay safe in here, and watch that heap o' stuff over there, and guard it, not that it's goin' nowheres, an' me an' Poisy go out w' Jim an plan our moves for after I returns from the city..."

    "Twenty two; that's how many," Poisy said, placing the farthings back into the bag and drawing the strings together.

    "Say thank you then," Jardie demanded, leaning forward to kiss her, "an' come wi' me; we got'a talk w' Jim about wot he's gonna do about that brover of his."

    "Floyd?"

    "Yeah, corse I mean Floyd; who else--now we got Appie, he can fill his place..."

    Joseph stared as the couple left the cave; he felt fearfully exuberant; it was unbelievable, they had left him alone here with Philip.

    Crawling to a rucksack, Joseph felt inside it, hoping to find a flask of some sort. Then his eyes contacted a water skin, behind the candle, and he scurried across to it. Moving back to what Jardie had called 'the heap o' stuff,' Joseph felt around the form.

    Philip, trussed up like a chicken, was firmly gagged and blindfolded as well. Taking the small sharp dagger from the leather sheath tied to his rope belt, Joseph cut Philip's bonds, removing both the gag and the blindfold, rubbing the dents in his wrists, trying to smooth the rope marks.

    Pouring the cool water from the skin over Philip's face, Joseph then pressed his hand across the boy's mouth, preventing his cry sounding out too loudly.

    "It's me, Joseph; Philip. How badly hurt are you?"

    "Ahh! I...I'm not sure...where are we? It's so dark."

    "You must get yourself awake, Philip; you've been kidnapped and I've come to get you out of here, but you've got to wake up..." Joseph felt alarmed; Philip slumped, relaxing, limp, as if faint. He poured water on the closed eyes, and across his face. Philip gasped, sitting up. Joseph waited, supporting him, dreading the time that he knew was passing.

    "Sir...it's you. You're...here...Oh, my head! How..."

    "Don't waste breath, Philip," Joseph urged, "just do as I say. Can you crawl?"

    "I don't know..." Philip reached his hand upward to his forehead, but not touching it. "Uh--they hit me, twice, I remember that; I stayed awake, but still then; and they brought me here, and after I'd written the ransom note, they hit me again. Oh!" He reached around, feeling the back of his neck, "I've a headache, like never..."

    "Philip, save your breath!" Joseph hissed. "You've got to get yourself ready to crawl--and I mean lots of crawling!" Joseph scampered back to the torch, toppling it to lie on the rocky ground, pouring the rest of the water over it, making it die with a loud hiss. Taking the small candle in its holder, he rejoined Philip saying, "Follow me, stay close on my heel."

    Reaching ahead with the candle as he moved on his knees, Joseph ignored the sharpness of the rock beneath him. At least Philip is wearing his breeches and boots; they didn't steal his boots. My feet are killing me...

    They crawled under a low ledge Joseph had remembered, and he lifted the candle ahead to see the way through the low shaft beyond. Soon they were in a narrow tunnel, with hard clay beneath their knees. Joseph could hear Philip breathing heavily, right behind him; and he pressed on, and on. Soon they were on rock again, moving downward. Hard shafts of rock imprinted Joseph's knees, but he crawled on, moving the candle ahead so that he could see the way. He remembered this shaft as being so long that he had once imagined it had no end; then he had emerged on the Valleyside, the other side of Tombstone Valley.

    Captain Randell decided he must confer with his military peers; he now believed strongly they should move in, before sunset; in fact as soon as possible. His military mind suggested several options, all with little risk to either Joseph or Philip. He felt the risk, for the lads to be close to such murderous felons, was greater than that which the king's army would contribute.

    The king had explained to him, after Joseph had left, exactly who the lad was; what his future role involved. It had taken all of the captain's will power, not to explode! He could not believe that the king had allowed the boy whom he had chosen as son, and heir, to go out, practically alone, to face murderous criminals.

    For some months, Joseph had been sheltered in the royal castle, hidden away from 'the mob'--from questioning people and prying eyes; being groomed and educated secretly; and now--thrust back into a world that was cruel and unrelentingly greedy. Many people considered life to be cheaper than spit!

    It was too late; the lad had found his pauper's disguise from a pile of rags in the cleaning closet, and he had left the castle. Karl and two other men had accompanied him. The latter two, each towing a riderless horse, were going to ride across the river-bridge, to wait in the woods, not far from the said valley.

    Striding out of the library, Captain Randell had summoned the other captains to a meeting with himself. There was no superior chief of the army of Justiceburg, but a counsel of a quorum of half the captains who numbered twenty made decisions. They were the Knights of the Kingdom; the military leaders.

    Only six captains could be found at such short call, but Captain Randell decided to proceed with the meeting, held in the military counseling chamber of the castle. Four empty chairs were joined to the circle as others could yet arrive.

    "This is an unprecedented emergency, a matter of life and death; a matter of grave concern as to future kingdom continuance and security," Randell said, and paused whilst a seventh captain joined the group. "What I have to tell you, is, at the king's request, a classified matter of confidentiality, which must not leave this chamber," he began, then plunged into explaining the situation.

    Before he had completed his disclosure about 'Joseph' the orphan-boy whom King Lemuel was considering for adoption; "Already it's obvious that our king has great affection for this boy; somewhere about thirteen years old, I believe,"--the king himself entered the chamber, causing the captains to stand to bow. The three advisers, Pippin, Vokoll and Bradley, followed the king.

    "I believe we should gather as many men-at-arms as possible, Sire, and we should move out, cautiously, of course, before sunset, to apprehend these criminals and rescue the young men..." Captain Randell began.

    While the meeting temperatures had risen, Joseph had been swimming across the river.

    It was less than ten minutes till sunset.

    Jardie, with the fur hat under his arm, rode his horse across the river-bridge, towards the city gate.

    Tethering his horse in the security of the City Post, and tossing the groom there, a whole farthing, Jardie sauntered through the open gate, unchallenged. He intended to view the 'lay of the land,' before he returned, to walk around the outside of the wall, to 'Pauper's Place.' Just inside the gate, he was quickly grasped, a soldier on either side.

    Hauled to stand before a captain, who snatched the fur hat from his armpit, he was asked, "What have we here? It's early summer, and you have a fur hat?"

    Cursing loudly, Jardie demanded, "Unhand me you mongrels."

    Receiving a punch to his face, Jardie found himself thrown face down on the road, and frisked. He felt the bag he had taken from 'Appie' torn from his belt. A soldier stood, his foot on Jardie's back. Another held a sword, pointed at his face.

    "Fetch Captain Randell!"

    The captain, who was conferring with Karl, hurried across to the prisoner. Taking the moneybag in his hand, he opened it. Ten gold crowns, and one silver ring, shone into his intelligent eyes.

    "Where did you get this?" Randell demanded of Jardie.

    "If y'll let me get up, I'll tell you," Jardie replied, inwardly relaxing, now believing that the military here were looking for 'Appie' and not for kidnappers.

    When Jardie stood, the captain asked again, "Where did you get the ten crown...and the ring?"

    "A thieving little kid had it...he's the one you want. He said he got it from rich folks...the ring too..."

    "Where is he?" Randell demanded.

    "I got him safe; Sir," Jardie said respectfully, now hoping that there was some reward in it for him. Then, as he remembered that 'Appie' was with Philip, their kidnapped hostage, beads of perspiration rose on his brow like a row of glassy pearls.

    "Where...have you got him...safe?"

    "That, Sir, I'm not saying; not till I have me own safety assured, Sir..."

    "We'll assure your safety, all right!" the captain said grimly. "Lock him away, and make sure he's kept safe."

    While Jardie, cursing and struggling, was hauled off, with a quad of guards joining him, Randell conferred with Karl and three captains. Within minutes, a soldier was sent to fetch Jardie's clothes; the latter being left to be escorted to prison in his shabby underwear.

    It was just minutes before sunset, and Captain Randell, whose size closely resembled Jardie's, rode towards the woods where a growing band of soldiers awaited.

    Tethering the horse, and followed distantly by a dozen soldiers, disguised as surfs, Randell climbed to the rim at the top of the valley; then the Jardie look-a-like stepped around the rim, waiting.

    "Jardie; Jardie--have y' got the gold?"

    Floyd popped up from a crop of sparse undergrowth where he had been lazing, staring down the hill, hoping to see Jardie coming with his long-awaited 'easy-money.'

    The Captain recognized the castle fueler, Floyd, and was pleased. Such treachery; having absconded that morning, Floyd had helped action the life-threatening abduction. How quickly he had fallen into their hands.

    "Here, Floyd, let me show you what a hundred crown look like," the Captain called.

    Something in Randell's tone; something in his cultured accent; this uncharacteristic offer; the 'early' sinking sun; and Floyd caught the smell of reverse treason. It wasn't Jardie; it was someone else. He panicked. Backing away, he turned and ran, helter skelter, down the hill, deftly weaving between the rocks, running to the safety of the cave where Jim was facing a different dilemma.

    Pulling his horn from the back of Jardie's belt, where he had fixed it, Randell blew it; three short blasts, then, dropping it to hang from its cord, he hurried down the slope, seeking to follow Floyd's flight.

    A minute after sunset, Tombstone Valley was filling with king's soldiers; torches being lit and fixed to the rocks strewn across the valley floor, lighting up the area. A systematic, foot-by-foot search of the valley and caves was begun.

    Cowering in the inner cave, in darkness, were Jim and Floyd. Their prisoner, and the boy, 'Appie,' together with Poisy, had disappeared. All light had vanished.

    Poisy, clutching the bag of farthings, followed the dim light; trailing the freed hostage who had disappeared down this undetected exit. She had no idea that military were amassing in the valley; or of Jardie's capture; or of Jim and Floyd's predicament; Poisy was hoping to gain Jardie's approval by pursuing the escapees, then return to inform Jardie where they were hiding. She expected this tunnel to lead to another cave.