The Brave Apprentice by P. W. Catanese Read Free Book Online

the room in a warm orange light and cast quivering shadows onto the stone walls. Near the fire, apart from everyone else, Patch saw a thin, bent old man with a long white beard, slouched in a comfortable chair and covered with blankets despite being so close to the flames. Patch thought at first that he was sleeping, but the old man’s eyes were open. What he was looking at Patch could not guess—the elder’s eyes seemed to focus on a distant point that was far beyond even these walls. The old man’s mouth moved soundlessly, and he rocked gently as he sat.
    Suddenly, a voice boomed out behind Patch. “Is that the apprentice? Is that him, Addison?” The voicebelonged to a round man with a head of thick, curly hair that merged with an equally dense beard, so that it gave the impression of an auburn wreath circling his moonlike face. He had sparkling eyes and a mouth that seemed accustomed to smiling, and he bustled toward them with outstretched hands.
    “It is, Your Majesty,” Addison said, bowing slightly.
    As the round man drew close, Patch noticed the fine purple garments trimmed with gold, and the modest crown almost lost in that unruly hair.
King Milo.
Panic flooded Patch’s brain. Not knowing exactly what to do, he dropped abruptly to his knees and lowered his head. “It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty.” The gesture was clumsy, and he heard some chuckles from the men in the room.
    “Oh, get up, get up,” said Milo. He clutched the material at Patch’s shoulder and hauled him to his feet. “We are so pleased to meet you. You’re a hero, son. An inspiration to all the common folk. I hope you’re ready to tell us all about your battle with the troll. We have much to learn today.” He lifted his head to search the room. “Are we ready to begin? Where is Griswold? Where is our scholar?”
    “Here, Your Majesty;” a wheezy voice answered. A grizzled-looking man in a long gray robe hobbled into the room, struggling to control the bundles of scrolls and books he held under each arm. Griswold walked to the side of the table without chairs and dropped his burden there with the rest of his materials. He talkedquietly to himself as he arranged them. “Now where is the—oh yes, there it is. Did I bring … of course, it’s right here, I’m losing my mind. But where—don’t tell me I—confound it, that’s not it….”
    Milo’s cheerful laugh rang out. “Come, my friends, take your places around the table. Perhaps by then Griswold will be ready.” The men moved quickly to their seats. Milo took the centermost chair, with a back that towered above the rest. Addison sat on the king’s right side, and Mannon and Gosling took the next places. Gosling waved Patch over to sit beside him. Patch’s stomach was rumbling, so he was thrilled to see platters of salt fish and rye bread within reach. “Eat up, young tailor,” Gosling whispered. “This could be a long meeting.”
    That sounded fine to Patch. He was fascinated by the scrolls and parchments, and delighted by this jovial king. During his journey with Addison and company, he’d formed the impression that the higher a noble ranked, the less friendly he became. But Milo contradicted that theory. Here was a grown man with the enthusiasm and warmth of a child.
    Basilus, the king’s steward, appeared next to the scholar with a goblet on a silver platter. “Wine for the king’s honored guest?”
    Griswold squinted at the offering. “No, wine has a terrible effect on me, dear Basilus. But I would ask for water if I might.” He turned to face the king. “I am ready, Your Majesty.” The king nodded his approval.
    Griswold had spread out the map of the kingdom and its surrounding countries, an enormous book, a bundle of moldy scrolls, and sheets of parchment that looked ready to disintegrate in a strong breeze: the accumulated knowledge of the trolls. The old scholar watched with a satisfied smile as the king’s men leaned closer to the table,