"That's the last of it, Dad," Clark said as he handed his father a sack of apples.
Jonathan grunted his acknowledgement as he placed the sack on the floor of their underground food cellar. He stepped back and surveyed his work, then dusted his palms off on his pants.
"Looks good," he declared, passing judgment over their winter stores. "A little leaner than I would have liked, but it should see us through the winter."
"I'll hunt if I need to," Clark vowed.
"Clark, we've been over this," his father said sternly. "I won't have you risking your neck for...what? A couple of half-starved rabbits? A turkey perhaps? No. No hunting. I can't have you taking such a risk. You know what happens if Lord Luthor finds out."
"Luthor." Clark spat out the name. "Part of me almost hopes Lord Tempos attacks and takes over these lands. The other part of me knows, through the grapevine, that Tempos might be even harder to live under."
"Sometimes, it's better to stick with the devil you know, rather than the one you don't," Jonathan agreed. "But please, son, promise me. No hunting."
Clark shook his head. "I can't promise that, Dad. I won't have you going hungry."
Before his father could mount a protest, Clark headed back up the stairs. He went straight outside, into the golden afternoon sunlight. He looked out over his fields. Most of the crops had already been harvested. Only a handful of things still remained. The summer had been hot and mostly dry, with the occasional rain bringing only a fraction of the moisture and relief they needed. Still, he had to admit, the summer had been better than the last few years, even if the harvest didn't seem like it.
"Sorry, Dad," he whispered to himself as he crossed to the massive oak tree where he typically trained his body or sat carving his animals. "The Lane lands aren't too far from here. If need be, I'll sneak over the border and hunt in those woods. I won't let you starve. Not this winter. Not next winter. Never."
He hoisted himself up into the branches, climbing high, until he no longer trusted the thinner branches to hold his weight. He liked it up here, amongst the topmost branches. From here he had a commanding view of the immediate countryside, especially now that most of the tree's leaves had turned brown and fallen to the ground below. And, he had to admit, he liked the sensation of being so high off the ground. It made him feel like he could fly right up and touch the sky. Some part of him wished he could stay there forever, leaving his troubles down on the grass.
But, of course, he wasn't so lucky. He'd been born into poverty, not of wealth. He didn't have servants to do his bidding. He didn't have much leisure time. He barely got enough sleep every night, before the first rays of sunlight woke him, alerting him that it was time for another full day of grueling work. He guessed even nobles had responsibilities, but planning dinner parties and collecting taxes didn't seem nearly as strenuous as lugging bucket-load after bucket-load of water to half-withered crops.
The breeze picked up as Clark sat amidst the oak's branches. Though the sun was warm that day, Clark could feel the tinges of colder weather to come on the wind's mild breath. He only hoped the winter would be short and easy on everyone. He wished the little black colt that had been born that summer was ready to be weaned and sold. He was fairly certain that he could get a decent price for the horse. The money could have gone a long way to securing more food and supplies for the coming winter.
"Can't do anything about that," he told himself as he sat and looked out over the land.
That's when he saw it. Riders some distance down the dirt track that served as a road. Clark put a slender hand up to his eyebrows, shielding his eyes from the sun. He squinted, trying to see better. The riders were in distress, he was sure of it.
Swiftly, he scrambled back down through the tangle of branches. He jumped when he was close enough to the ground, landing solidly on his feet. As soon as his feet hit the dirt, he was off and running, giving a loud whistle as he ran. From across the fields, Merlin heard his master's call and came galloping, slowing only once he was near Clark. With practiced grace, Clark mounted the stallion, sans saddle, and nudged the horse in the ribs.
"Yah!" he cried, getting the horse to move faster. "Come on, Merlin! Someone needs our help."
He prodded the horse into as fast a gallop as he dared, holding on to the roan stallion's neck for stability. He didn't have to say much to the animal. Merlin knew his master's body language. Every shift in Clark's position, every bit of increased or decreased pressure on the horse's body meant something to Merlin, and he immediately responded in turn. Man and beast were so in synch, it was almost as if they shared a telepathic bond.
Together, they raced down the dirt road, kicking up a storm of dust in the wake of their passing. Clark only slowed once the riders he'd seen came into view. He patted the horse's neck as the animal slowed to a trot, then a walk.
"Whoa, good boy," Clark told him as Merlin came to a stop.
The riders had their backs to him, but turned at the sound of his voice. A shock of recognition bolted through Clark.
Lois.
Lucy too. And a man he didn't know.
Clark easily dismounted as Lois scrutinized his features. He patted the horse's shoulder for good measure as he addressed the group before him.
"Milady?" he asked uncertainly. "Milord? Is there some trouble here?" He wondered if he was being too bold.
"Do I know you?" Lois asked, peering at him in an unsure way.
Clark swallowed hard and nodded. She remembered him! At least, a little.
"Yes, milady. You bought a wooden bear from me for your sister earlier in the summer."
The memory of that meeting a couple of months back seemed to dawn on her. Her face changed. It softened and some of the suspicion in her features fled.
"Yes, I remember now," she said. She gestured to the others. "My sister's horse came up lame. Lucy was thrown. I think she may have broken her leg."
"Do you mind if I take a look?" he asked cautiously.
"Please," Lois said, overriding the protests of the man beside her. "Hush, James. I trust this man." She looked back to Clark. "Please, if you can help at all..."
"I'll do what I can," he swore. He knelt down in the grass where Lucy was sitting and biting back her pain. He rolled up his sleeves before gingerly and nervously touching the younger woman's leg. "It does look like a break," he concluded, drawing on his experiences with the animals on his family's farm. "I can make a temporary splint that will help immobilize it until you can get her to a doctor."
"I don't think Bluebell can carry me," Lucy pointed out.
"Let me take a look, milady. I know a thing or two about horses," he told her.
Lucy nodded her permission. Clark carefully checked the horse, his heart growing sadder with each passing moment. Finally, he stood.
"I'm afraid the lower leg bones are shattered," he said after a moment. "And she looks to be a older horse."
"She is," James said, not bothering to hide the mistrust in his voice.
Clark shook his head. "She won't recover from this. I can end her pain, if you want."
"No," the man - James - said. "I'll do it. You said you can make a splint for my sister's leg?"
"As you wish, milord." Clark bowed his head in respect, then set to work finding the things he would need.
It didn't take long. He found most of what he needed in the woods, which weren't far from the road. Satisfied with what he'd found, he sat down on the grass and began to bind the break in Lucy's leg. He just needed something to tie the splint tight with. He looked around frantically.
"What is it?" Lois asked, seeing his distress.
"I need something to tie the split together," Clark said.
"Here," James said, unclasping his cloak from his shoulders. With the knife which hung from his belt, he cut several wide strips and handed them to Clark. "Is that enough?"
Clark nodded. "Yes, milord. Thank you."
He focused his attention back on Lucy. "This may hurt a bit. I'll be as gentle as I can, I promise."
"Do it," she pleaded through the pain Clark knew had to be shooting through her body.
He nodded and worked the first strip of velvety black cloth around the makeshift splint. He looked to James. "Milord? Would you mind holding the splint? Here?" He put his hands over the place in question.
James nodded and mutely complied. Clark tied the cloth as tightly as he dared. Lucy grunted in pain, but, to her credit, she didn't scream. In a few short moments, Clark was finished. He sat back, checking his work, feeling the breeze whisking away the sweat that had popped up on his brow.
"That should hold, until you can get her to a doctor," he finally proclaimed.
"Thank you," Lois said, lightly touching his shoulder.
Clark could have floated in his elation. "You're welcome, milady," he managed. Behind him, he heard James' sword clearing its scabbard, and the sound of Bluebell's dying moments. "Do you have a carriage nearby? Anything your sister can ride in?"
Lois shook her head. "No. We just took the horses. Our home isn't far from here. A couple hours' ride. We never thought to take a carriage." She worriedly chewed at her bottom lip. "How will we get her home?" she asked, looking toward her brother.
"I have a cart," Clark said, coming to a sudden decision. "If you wait here, I can get it and come back. Your sister can ride in the back, if that's okay...it's only built for a single driver to sit up front."
"Do it," Lucy said from her seat on the ground. "We have to get home before our parents get worried."
"All right," Lois agreed, nodding at her sister. Then, to Clark, "We'd appreciate the help."
"Then I'll be back soon," Clark said, already on the move. He pulled himself up on his horse's back. "Run, Merlin!"
He pushed the horse faster than was probably safe, he thought later on, once he was back at his farmhouse. It didn't matter. All that mattered was making the best time possible. He flew through the motions of hitching the cart to Merlin and making the back as comfortable as possible, piling it high with old blankets and a bed of clean straw.
"Clark?" Jonathan called, perhaps hearing the commotion. "What's going on?"
"Remember that woman from the market a couple of months ago? The noblewoman?" Clark asked as he worked, never stopping.
"Yes..."
"She and her brother and sister are up the road a ways. Her sister has a broken leg and a dead horse. I'm going to make sure she gets home as safely as possible."
"I'll come with you," Jonathan said with a determined nod.
"No, Dad. Stay here. I don't know how long this might take. Stay here. Rest up. Besides, someone needs to be here to look after the farm. I'll be fine, Dad," he promised, taking a moment to touch his father's shoulder.
"Okay," Jonathan relented after a moment. "Be careful, would you, son?"
"I will, Dad. I promise."
"Be careful with your heart too," his father reminded him gently.
"I will."
"Good luck, son." Jonathan crossed to him and enveloped him in a warm hug.
"Thanks, Dad. I'll see you late tonight or tomorrow morning, depending on how long the ride there and back is." He gave his father a grin. "Don't wait up for me."
Jonathan laughed. "Deal. Now go. Those people are waiting."
Clark nodded and silently climbed up into the driver's seat. He got settled, then lightly flicked the reins.
"Go on, Merlin," he coaxed.
The horse immediately obeyed, and Clark steered him back to where Lois and her siblings were waiting. It was an ache of pure joy that stabbed at his heart when Lois came into view. His heart raced in his chest. His head swam. His brain entertained no other thoughts other than Lois' beauty.
"I came as fast as I could," he said by way of a greeting. "Whoa, Merlin. Good boy."
He brought the horse and cart to a halt. With a word of permission from James, Clark scooped Lucy up in his arms and helped her get settled in the back of the cart. He pulled a blanket up over her to ward against the chill that would come as the sun went down in the west.
"Are you comfortable, milady?" he asked.
"Very. Thank you. And thanks for helping us out at all. How did you even know that we were out here?" the young woman asked.
Clark blushed. "There's a tall tree on my farm. Sometimes, I climb up toward the top and just...just look out over the immediate lands. I've always enjoyed doing so, ever since I was a child. I happened to see you, almost at the edges of what I could see and decided to check things out, just in case there was some trouble."
"We're very glad you did," Lois added.
Clark nodded. "With the rumors of raids and possible war in the neighboring lands, I didn't want to risk anyone being out here without help, if they needed it." He took a moment to scramble back up into the driver's seat. "If you're ready...?"
James nodded. "Let's go."
He and Lois mounted the remaining two horses. James didn't speak much, but rode a short distance ahead, leading the way. They traveled as fast as Clark dared to push the aging wooden cart. Lois was next in line, but after a while, she dropped back and rode at Clark's side. From the back of the cart, Clark occasionally heard Lucy's soft snores.
"Hey," Lois said as she came up alongside Clark. She checked on Lucy with a glance and continued on in a whisper. "I just wanted to say thank you, again. I'm not sure what we would have done without your help."
"I'm just doing what's right," Clark said, trying hard not to blush.
"Maybe. But I doubt there are many people who would go so far out of their way for a stranger as you have."
Clark shook his head slightly. "Maybe. I like to think there plenty of people who would do what I'm doing."
"You must have incredible parents to raise you to think so," she observed.
Clark nodded. "I do. They are two of the most wonderful people you can imagine. My mom was one of the gentlest, warmest, sweetest people in the world. And my father's the same. I've never met a man as hardworking as he is."
"What is it that he does?" Lois asked, sounding naturally curious.
"We're farmers, milady." Embarrassment roiled in his stomach. He wasn't ashamed of being a poor farmer. But he felt like he should be able to confess to a much more worthy profession.
"Why do you blush?" Lois asked.
Clark sighed before answering. "I don't know. I guess...I guess I wish I was more worthy of being in your company, milady."
"Nonsense! Without farmers, we'd all starve to death," Lois said, giving him a small smile.
"True," he mused after a slight pause. "Milady? May I be bold enough to ask a question?"
"Go right ahead," she encouraged him.
"We're headed to the Lane lands, aren't we?"
"Yes," she confirmed in a guarded tone.
"What were you doing out in Lord Luthor's lands? Of all the places to visit, this isn't the place I would suggest." He shuttered mentally at the thought of willingly wandering onto Luthor's lands.
"Lord Luthor has been coming to our home a lot lately. He and my father, Lord Lane, are negotiating joining forces to turn back Lord Tempos. I'm sure news of his raids on the neighboring lands has made its way, even all the way out here."
Clark nodded, keeping his eyes on the path before them. "We've heard tales, yes."
"Father thinks I may make a good bride for Lord Luthor. And that such a prospect is guaranteed to push him over the threshold of indecision. I'm not interested in being traded like some disposable good or something, so, whenever he comes to visit, I try to be conveniently away, as much as possible. Its worked so far, but after tonight, I'm afraid my days of freedom will be cut short."
"I'm truly sorry, milady," he murmured, his heart breaking for the young woman beside him.
I'd do anything to give you the life you deserve, he thought to himself.
"We all have our dues to pay," she sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm complaining and I shouldn't be. I'm sure you've dealt with harder situations than me. No offense, that is."
"None taken, milady. The truth is, we've had a rough few years, with my mother passing away and the drier than usual summers. The crops haven't been as good and sometimes it's all Dad and I can do to stay afloat."
"Living in Luthor's lands can't make that any easier," Lois mused.
Clark shook his head. "No, it doesn't. My advice? If you can avoid marrying Lord Luthor, do it. I've never met him in person and I don't ever plan to. But he's a harsh lord to live under, milady. Even hauling a fish out of the river is considered theft and given stiff punishment for, if he finds out. Some guards caught a friend of mine with a rabbit he'd snared in a trap. They beat him half to death and took the rabbit. And that was after he'd explained to him that his pregnant wife needed the nourishment from the meat."
"That's awful!" she gasped, careful to keep her voice down, so as not to wake Lucy. "My father would never allow such barbaric treatment."
"Maybe so," Clark replied, guiding Merlin around a log that had fallen halfway into the road. "But, what choice do we have?"
"You could pick up and start over somewhere else. In my father's lands or elsewhere," Lois argued. "Hardworking farmers would be welcomed, I'm sure."
"I wish it was that simple, milady," Clark said. "But it's not. We barely have enough money to pay our taxes, let alone to pick up and move. Believe me, if I could, I would take my father out of these lands in a heartbeat."
Lois didn't respond right away. For a time, they rode in silence, each of them very much aware of the other at their side. Finally, Lois broke the quiet.
"That's a fine horse," she observed. "I've never seen a farmer with such a fine steed."
"Thank you, milady. My family has been breeding horses for nine or ten generations now. We usually sell the colts when they get old enough and only keep what we absolutely need to. Actually, we have a young colt right now that we'll hopefully find a buyer for come the spring. He's a beautiful little thing - all jet black and feisty, though he can be very sweet."
"And this one?" She gestured to the horse which was pulling the cart.
"This is Merlin. He's been my horse for many years. You wouldn't guess it now, but he was a sickly little thing at birth. He was a twin, but his brother died shortly after birth. I nursed him back to health, along with help from my parents. By the time he was old enough and strong enough to be sold, we'd developed a bond. I just couldn't part with him, so he became a part of the family."
"Merlin, huh?" Lois smiled. "I've read about him."
Clark smiled back. "I saw the puppet shows in town occasionally when I was a small child. It was one of my favorites."
Lois nodded thoughtfully before she looked around at their surroundings. "We should be there in another hour or so."
An hour. One hour before Clark had to say goodbye. One hour before he'd get what would likely be his last glimpse of Lois. And if he did ever see her again, she would almost certainly be married to Alexander Luthor - one of the biggest tyrants in the kingdom, if the rumors he'd always heard muttered under breaths in the marketplace were to be believed. And he did believe them.
One hour to be with Lois, and hope that the memories would last him a lifetime.
"It's beautiful here," Clark complimented the countryside. "It seems so...so peaceful."
"Let's hope it stays that way," Lois said with a sigh.
"If I may say so, milady, I think what you're doing is incredibly noble," Clark said softly.
It was true. While every fiber of his being screamed in disgust over the idea of this wonderful woman being married to someone like Lord Luthor, Lois' selflessness stood out to him. His heart hurt for her and the position she was being forced into, but somehow, on some level, her actions inspired him. Made him want to be a better person. Made him want to reach out and change the very stars in the heavens.
But Lois shook her head. "It's not noble. It's stupid. But what choice do I really have? I'm trapped."
Clark felt his tongue go leaden. He could think of nothing to say to that. He focused on the path ahead of him, but let Merlin pick his own way over the grassy fields. Around them, the light grew dimmer as the sun began to sink toward the horizon. If he were a lord or a knight or anything other than what he was, he'd whisk Lois away from her life and make her happy. But he wasn't rich. He wasn't powerful. He had absolutely nothing to offer her.
"Is everything okay?" Lois asked after a few minutes of silence.
"Yes, milady," he answered, more by reflex than anything else. "I just...I just got lost in my thoughts for a moment."
"Good thoughts, I hope."
"I was thinking of how unfair your situation is," he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Lois closed her eyes for a moment, as though Clark's admission had gone straight to her heart. When she finally opened them, she favored him with a smile.
"You're one of the only people who thinks that way. Lucy hates the idea too. Mother and Father don't see the problem with it."
"And your brother?"
Lois shook her head. "He hasn't said much about it. I think that he isn't thrilled with how things stand, but he also thinks that we need to do whatever we can to protect our people. He's talked about finding a nobleman's daughter to marry to solidify yet another army to our cause."
"I'm sorry," Clark said.
Before long, Lois' home appeared on the horizon. Once that happened, time seemed to speed up. In the blink of an eye, they were at the front gates. One of the family's servants ran to get help as soon as he saw that Lucy had been injured. Clark helped Lois to dismount and, out of sheer habit, brought her horse - who he'd since learned was named Whisper - to the stables. He probably would have unsaddled and brushed down the mare, if not for an aging stableman who immediately took the reins from Clark's hand.
"Lois!"
The angry man storming toward them could only be Lord Lane, Clark instinctively knew. Lois reflexively flinched at the harshness with which her name had been called. Clark took a few steps back and to the side.
"Where have you been?" the man demanded. "No one knew you three left! You didn't even take any guards along with you! Have you forgotten that Lord Tempos' men would kidnap you in a heartbeat if given half a chance? He'd probably demand the surrender of our lands in exchange for just one of you, let alone all three!" He looked accusingly at James, as though blaming his wayward daughter's actions on her younger brother. "What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking," Lois said defiantly, breaking her father's intense stare from James, "that I needed to get out of here. If I'd tried to take a guard with me, you would have known about it and I never would have been able to leave."
"All for the better!" Lord Lane huffed. "Lord Luthor is getting tired of you conveniently being away during his visits here. He left not long ago in a thunderous mood."
Lois crossed her arms over her chest in a resolute manner. "That's exactly why I'm never here when he visits."
"We've been through this, Lois. He is our only chance at standing against and defeating Lord Tempos."
"There has to be another way!"
"There isn't," Lord Lane snapped. "Now, what happened out there?"
Lois sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, as though trying to ward off a headache. "We went a bit further than we'd anticipated. I guess we were all a little distracted. Bluebell came up lame - she shattered her leg in a deep rut on the road. Lucy was thrown and broke her own leg. We were lucky that this young man here, " she gestured to Clark, "saw our distress and came to our aid. He escorted us back here with Lucy in his cart. I'm not sure how we would have gotten back if not for his help."
"It seems I owe you a debt of thanks," Lord Lane said, turning to Clark and bowing his head respectfully. "What is your name?"
Lois blushed a little in embarrassment. It was then that Clark realized that he'd never formally introduced himself to her.
"Clark, milord."
Lord Lane nodded. "Samuel Lane," he introduced himself. "Thank you for giving my children your aid. I would like to give you a reward. Is there anything you are in need of?" he asked, eyeing Clark discreetly.
"Please, milord. I'm honored, but I can't accept a reward."
"Nonsense," Lord Lane said, brushing off Clark's refusal. "There must be something. After all, you went way beyond what you needed to do, making sure my children got home safely."
"Any decent man would do the same, milord," Clark replied.
"That may be," Lord Lane agreed. "But it seems these days, decent men are harder and harder to find."
"At least stay for dinner," Lois said, taking a single step toward Clark. "It's the least we can do."
Clark hesitated, even as his stomach growled. "I really should be getting home to my father," he said slowly.
"My daughter is right. You look like you are in need of a good meal."
"You can take the leftovers home to share with your father," Lois added.
That decided things for Clark. He nodded.
"I'd be honored to share a meal with you, milord."
"Good. Dinner should be ready shortly," Lord Lane said. "Come." He turned to one of the guards standing nearby. "Alert me immediately when Doctor Bernard arrives, Jasper."
"As you wish," the man said with a bow.
Lord Lane took the lead, weaving them through his richly furnished home. Clark quietly took it all in, completely overwhelmed and fascinated. He'd known, of course, that much finer things existed than the Spartan, rough furnishings of his own house. But the level of luxury he saw before him now seemed unreal, like the feverish musings of a delirious man.
So this is how the wealthiest people live, he thought in awe as his eyes swept over the pristine home. Just one of those pillows over there on that chair probably costs more than Dad and I could earn in two years.
Lord Lane noticed the way Clark was looking at the place. "Like what you see?"
"Your home is gorgeous," Clark complimented him. "I've never known that such wonderful things could be had."
Lord Lane chuckled. "I suppose so. It's nothing compared to what the truly wealthy own. People like Lord Luthor."
Clark's face darkened. "I'll have to take your word for it, milord."
"Is there a problem with Lord Luthor?" Lord Lane asked.
How could Clark explain? He couldn't say anything too negative about Lord Luthor. He didn't know Lord Lane all that well, and considering that Lois was being pushed to marry Luthor, how could he tell Samuel what he thought of Luthor? He couldn't. And yet, there had to be a way to tell Lord Lane about Luthor's reputation amongst the people he lorded over.
"I don't know Lord Luthor personally," Clark hedged. "But I've lived my whole life in his lands. He's not the easiest lord to live under, milord."
"Father?" Lois interrupted, much to Clark's relief. "I showed you that wooden hawk, right?"
"Yes," Lord Lane said with a nod.
"Clark is the one who carved it."
Some of Lord Lane's intense scrutiny of Clark softened. "Really? Well, I have to say, my boy, you have a rare gift. I've never seen such craftsmanship on something like that."
"Thank you," Clark said as they finally reached the dining room. "I've been making wooden animals for as long as I can remember."
"Here, sit by me," Lois encouraged, as everyone began to sit. "Mother? This is Clark. He escorted Lucy, James, and me back home after Lucy got hurt," she said, making the introductions. "Clark? This is my mother, Lady Ellen."
"Pleased to meet you," Clark offered politely.
"And you," she replied. "Thank you for bringing my children back home safely."
"It was the least I could do," Clark sincerely replied.
Some light conversation started up, and Clark found himself forgetting, for a while, his humble origins. While he felt awkward and out of place on a deep level, the Lane family did a commendable job of making him feel included. Some of his nervousness dropped away, and he allowed himself to enjoy the rich dinner set before them. Never in his life had he tasted food like that. He'd always thought of his father as an excellent cook, but their options for meals and ingredients had always been severely limited, despite the fact that they were farmers. The spread set before him that night boggled his mind and set his taste buds abuzz. He ate his fill, enjoying, for the first time in years, a fully satiated stomach.
When it came time for him to start back home, Lois made good on her promise. She ordered the kitchen servants to pack up the leftovers for Clark to bring home to Jonathan. They quickly complied, and before Clark knew it, his cart was filled with packages of meat, breads, vegetables, cheeses, fruits, nuts, berries, and even a flagon of the heady wine that had been served with the meal. That had been an experience. In all his twenty years alive, he'd never before tasted wine - not because of any personal aversion to alcohol, but simply because his family had rarely ever had money to spare on such frivolous things. He wasn't sure what to make of the wine. He'd enjoyed the rich, full flavor of the dark red drink, but he wasn't entirely happy with the way it seemed to dull his senses. In the end, he hadn't drunk much of it at all - preferring the clear, cold water that had tasted so much better to him than that of his family's little well.
"Clark? Wait up," Lois called after him as he made certain that everything was securely positioned in the back of the cart.
"Milady?"
She was alone, as Clark had already formally taken leave of the Lane family. She rushed to him with swift strides. She looked relieved to find him still there, and not vanished into the night.
"I just wanted to thank you again," she said as she came to a halt before him, the material of her dress swishing with her every move. "Thanks to you, Doctor Bernard thinks Lucy's leg is going to heal just fine, with no lasting ill effects."
"I'm relieved to hear it. I am sorry about the horse though," he said.
Lois shook her head. "It's not your fault."
"Still, I wish I'd been able to do something for her."
"It's okay. Really." She paused for a moment before switching the subject. "Will you be all right, getting home?"
Clark smiled at her concern. "I'll be fine, milady."
"Are you sure there is nothing else I can give you? Something more than just these packages of food? After all, you didn't have to come all this way with us. Even though I'm glad that you did."
Another brilliant smile. Another wound in Clark's heart, knowing that she would forever be out of his reach.
"You and your family have been more than generous, milady. And I thank you, from the bottom of my heart."
"Well then, if you are sure, I'm glad to have met you, Clark."
"And I am honored to have met you," he replied with a bow.
"Will I see you again?" she suddenly asked, as Clark climbed up on the cart and sat in the driver's seat.
"If fate is kind, perhaps we will meet again," he answered. "Goodnight, milady."
"Goodnight, Clark."
Using every ounce of willpower in his body, Clark forced himself to flick the reins, urging Merlin to begin moving. He forced himself not to look back as he left Lois behind, though every fiber of his being screamed at him to return to her and beg her to run away with him into an unknown future. But, he couldn't. He couldn't force that uncertainty on her, even if she might have been willing to go with him.
He pushed Merlin a bit faster than he had on the way out to Lord Lane's manor. After all, this time there was no injured young woman in the back of the cart. Still, the horse was attached to the cart, and it was dark out, so he couldn't risk too much speed. He was especially worried about the horse catching a foot in a rut in the ground and breaking his leg the way Lucy's horse had. He didn't think he could handle another round of heartbreak that night.
And his heart was broken.
"Is this what love feels like?" he whispered to himself as the night and his journey wore on. "God help me, Merlin, but I'm in love with her."
Be careful with your heart too, his father's voice whispered in his mind.
He'd tried. Oh, he'd tried to remind himself not to fall for the beautiful woman he'd escorted home. But as Lois had spoken with him, he'd lost the fight. Not only was Lois a natural, physical beauty, but her personality and very soul were gorgeous as well.
He groaned to himself. Had he just made the biggest mistake in his life, by falling in love with a woman he could never possibly be with?
"Maybe Dad's right," he said to Merlin. "Maybe I should just go marry some other girl and move on with my life. After all, Lois is all but engaged to Luthor and even if she wasn't, I'm too low-born for her."
But even as he said the words, he knew he would never act on them. Unless he could forget Lois entirely - and he knew it would never happen - he would never be able give even the smallest sliver of his heart to anyone.
For a while, he rode in silence. The gentle swaying as the cart creaked its way over the land coupled with the heavy dinner he'd enjoyed at the Lane's manor threatened to lull him to sleep. To keep himself awake, he finally broke his silence and began to sing old songs that he knew - ones his mother had taught him as a young boy. He knew his voice was far from beautiful, but it had never stopped him from singing before, and at least it broke up some of the loneliness.
Before long, the landscape became more familiar. He was back in Luthor's lands. He would be home soon. He broke off his singing and urged Merlin to go slightly faster. He couldn't wait to get home and tell his father everything that had happened, and to share all of the delicious food he'd brought back with him. Suddenly, a feeling of dread lodged itself in the pit of his stomach. Something was off, he realized.
He smelt the fire before he saw the blaze.
"No!" he cried as his family's home came into view. Or, at least, what was left of it.
The house was nothing more than a tangle of a few burning slabs of wood that were still standing. In the hellish orange blaze, Clark could see the thick black plumes of smoke rising from the inferno. The remaining crops, which Clark had planned to harvest in the morning, appeared to have been razed to the ground. He instinctively knew that the food cellar would have been raided and stripped bare. The barn, remarkably, still stood, as it was set apart from the house, though he could see that it wasn't undamaged.
"No," he whispered again to himself, as he reined in Merlin and scrambled down from the driver's set.
The horse snorted in distress and tried to shy away from the blaze. His eyes were wide, showing the whites in his panic. Clark took a moment to calm Merlin with a few reassuring pets and a gentle word or two. When he was sure the horse wouldn't bolt, he stepped away and towards the fire.
"Dad!" he called out in fear. "Dad! Where are you?"
There was no response, save for the roar of the fire as it greedily devoured the house Clark had grown up in.
"Dad!" he screamed into the night.
He felt sick to his stomach as his heart started to race. He grabbed a fallen piece of timber that that was still burning on one end. He used it like a torch, holding it before him to give him an extra bit of light as he searched for his father. He found him in the barn.
Jonathan lay on the ground near the door. In the circle of light provided by his makeshift torch, Clark could see the way his father was struggling to breathe. His chest was covered in blood. So was the ground beneath him.
"Oh, no! Dad?!"
Clark dropped to his knees. He stuck the torch in the dirt floor, freeing up his hands. Gently, he took his father's head into his lap. Jonathan's eyes fluttered open.
"Clark," he said weakly.
"Dad," Clark replied, swallowing around a lump in his throat. "I'm so sorry. I got back as soon as I could. What happened?"
"Lord Tempos' men," Jonathan choked out. He groaned in pain as Clark applied pressure to the wound, in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. "Came. Took everything. Food. Animals. Our savings. Everything. It wasn't enough. Burned the house down when I said we had nothing more."
"This is my fault," Clark said, looking with anger at the destruction around them. "I should have been here."
"Would have hurt you too," Jonathan said, panting with the effort of speaking.
"Ssh," Clark tried to shush him. "Don't try to speak." His hands were completely covered with his father's blood. "I'll get you bandaged up and then we'll get you to a doctor."
Even as he spoke the words, he knew they were a lie. He knew Jonathan didn't have much time. Despite the orange glow of the torchlight, Clark could see the pallor of his father's skin. Death was close. He'd lost too much blood. There was nothing that he or a doctor could do, even if he could get his father into town quickly enough. And even then, Clark knew that, without money, they would be turned away.
"I'll get you help," he vowed again, regardless.
Jonathan tried to shake his head. "Not enough time."
"Come on, Dad. Fight!" Clark urged, frantically trying to figure out how to bind his father's wound.
His eyes came to rest on a couple of threadbare blankets they used under the one saddle they had for the horses. He gently laid his father down on the ground and dashed over to the blankets. Then he tore open Jonathan's shirt and placed the blankets directly on the wound. He tore another into strips and bound them around his father's chest, as tightly as he could.
"Okay," Clark said, more to himself than to his father. "Water."
He swiftly retrieved a bucket of water and dipped a small ladle in. He held it to his father's lips to drink. Jonathan weakly sipped at the liquid, but Clark could see that his father was fading fast.
"Clark, listen to me."
"I'm here, Dad."
"I need you to go. Get out of here. No son should have to watch his father die."
"No, Dad. I'm staying right here with you, no matter what. I'm not leaving you alone," Clark swore. "Here, have some more water."
Jonathan nodded slightly and eagerly sipped at the ladle when Clark brought it to his lips again.
"Did you get those people home?" he asked Clark.
Clark nodded. "Lois and her siblings got home safely. Her family invited me to stay for dinner, and sent the leftovers home with me. I can get something if you want."
Jonathan rolled his head side to side in a barely-there shake. "No." He looked at Clark's face. "You love her, don't you." It was a simple statement of fact, not a question.
Clark merely nodded. "Yes."
"Then I hope you can make your dreams come true," he father said, mustering up a weak smile. He shuddered and Clark felt how cold Jonathan's skin had become.
"We need to get you warm," he muttered to himself.
All the rest of the blankets were in his cart. He felt torn between getting them and staying at his father's side.
"It's too late," Jonathan choked out. "Clark...I love you, son."
Tears leaked from the corners of Clark's eyes. "I love you too, Dad." He kissed his father's brow.
Jonathan's breathing became a death rattle. Then he took one last breath and released it with a shudder. He did not draw another and his body went eerily still. Silence ruled for a few, fleeting heartbeats before Clark began to scream his sorrow into the night.
To Be Continued...
