Keithson Family/Origins
Their father was dead. The news was broken to the boys as gently as possible, but how can you tell someone that their rolemodel, their hero, everything that they wanted to become in life, is dead?
It wasn't easy, but somehow, the village priest managed to console them. During the night, the boys sat, from eldest to youngest, on their cots and on the floor. The order was almost prearranged; laying on the biggest cot with his eyes closed, was the oldest boy, Paul. He was trying his best to shut out what had happened, instead fixating on the recent fishing trip he and his father had gone on. Next, and sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out at the dirty wall was Marc. The only thing in his thoughts was that his father was gone. After him was Tom, the youngest. He knew that something had happened, but what that was, he wasn't quite sure. All he knew was that his brothers where being abnormally quiet and it was scaring him slightly. Softly, he continued to play with his toy wagon on the dirt floor of their room.
That was the scene that greeted their mother when she walked in. Giving them all a little hug, she told them to go to bed, tomorrow was the burial. Turning around to leave, she didn't see that none of them had moved from their places. As a matter of fact, the only change to the scene was that Paul had opened his eyes and was staring at the thached roof.
In a whisper that barely made it the three feet to his youngest brother, Tom, Paul said;
"She always wanted to become rich. Well, now she can."
Several seconds of silence hung after the words faded into the soft sounds of the back wheel of Tom's play-wagon.
"What... what did you say?" Marc managed to strangle out, incredulious.
Paul raised up and looked at his younger brother,
"I said, 'She's always wanted to be rich. Now she can.' I take it that you don't agree"
Marc turned around stared at his older brother. All the contests, all the races, and all the times that he'd been beaten at them by Paul came back to him.
"Yes, I don't agree. How dare you say that about mother?" Marc demanded furiously.
Paul just lay there and stared at Marc. Marc stared back just as fiercely.
"Well? What do you have to say for yourself? How dare you say that about mother?" Marc demanded again.
"Remember a month ago when the traders came into the market? Remember how mother stayed at the stall with the gold cloth? Remember how she didn't stop talking about how the Baron's wife came into the market and just picked up the cloth and how mother said, 'Oh, I wish I could do that! Just walk in somewhere and pick up the most expensive thing and not worry how much it cost!'. Do you remember what fa- father said? 'If you have to look at how much it cost, you can't afford it'? No! You didn't remember, you where too busy 'praticing' with your fake sword on Tom and making him cry."
With that rant out of his system, Paul fell silent.
Once he heard his name, Tom perked up.
"What about me? I didn't cry! Marc just kicked dirt in my eyes!" Tom said defensively.
"Oh, I did not you big baby!" Marc argued
Hearing someone talking outside their room, Paul spat out a quick 'Shuttup!', then moved quickly to the door. Their interest piped, the three boys carefully made their way out the door and down the hall - naturally with Paul in the lead. When they came to the end of the hallway, they all stopped and listened. One of the voices was their mother, the other one sounded like a man's voice - an almost sinister voice at that.
"Okay. I've got the payment, here's the second part." their mother said in a brisk, almost business-like tone.
The sound of a of coins clinking together reached the ears of the boys. Then one, by one, the coins where put into a bag and the man counted them off as they fell.
"One, two, three, four..."
This continued until the man reached fifty. Then, once he stopped counting, their mother spoke again,
"You see? I told you it was all there!"
There was silence and then the man spoke for the first time.
"Fifty is not one hundred. And the one hundred I have been paid so far is not two hundred."
"Yes, about that... you've got the first half now. The next half will be given to you once it's done and taken care of completely." the mother said in nervous tone.
Again, there was a pause before the strange man spoke.
"I've done contracts for Kings, Generals, Judges, Dukes... and yet some peasant lady doubts if I can... finish my assignment?"
Obviously, there was something funny about this to the man. After about half a minute, the man said one more word.
"Okay."
With the deal struck, all that was left was the customary drink to seal the deal. Once the boys heard the sound of the stools being moved back away from the table they hurried back to their rooms and jumped into bed; Paul in the bigger one and Marc and Tom in the smaller one.
Once they heard the front door closing they knew that mother would be coming in to check if they where asleep. When their door didn't open, the stopped trying their hardest to fake sleep.
After a minute of lying in bed, Tom asked the obvious question,
"Why did mother give that man coins?"
When neither of his brothers answered, he asked again.
"Why did mother give him coins?" Tom asked, louder this time.
"I don't know, now be quiet and go to sleep!" Paul ordered.
With that, Tom rolled over and went to sleep. However, sleep didn't come as easy to his older brothers who waited until he was asleep before discussing the 'incident', as they called it, long into the night.
They had discussed the 'incident' so long that they didn't notice the sky beginning to brighten and their hushed conversation was only interrupted when the rooster crowed. Bleery-eyed, the boys climbed into bed, thinking that their mother would be coming to wake them up soon and even a little sleep is better then none at all. As soon as their heads hit the pillow, they were sound asleep.
After a couple of hours sleep, the boys where roused out of bed by their mother and hurried out to the village chapel for the funeral. Along the way, a messenger headed into town with bad news - the Baron's wife had been found dead this very morning! Apparently, she ate some bad mushrooms and died in her sleep.
Paul and Marc looked at each other. Marc mouthed, 'Bad mushrooms?" to Paul. Raising his eyebrow quizzically, Paul shook his head and nodded towards their mother.
A small smile danced across her face as the messenger rode towards the other villages.
