Remebering
Greg hooked up the traveling cart to the back of one of his llama's and turned to face his mum and sister. The sky was beginning to darken, and if he wanted to get to the Palace by noon tomorrow, he would have to leave soon. His mum stepped forwards and hugged him tightly, a smile on her face.
"Be good, stay safe, and for goodness sakes, have fun!" She said, stepping back. She handed him a small coin filled purse with a wink. "I know you packed enough food for the one day trip, but if you wanted to stay in the city for an extra night, that should be enough to by a room at an inn."
Greg laughed and pocketed the purse. "Wow, thanks mum! I'll probably come right back, but I might pick something up for you from the city instead." He grinned at her and turned to his sister. Sally's eyes were for once very clear, and as she stepped forwards to hug her older brother, she said,
"Get me something nice too, please." She leaned back and smiled up at him.
Greg ruffled her dark hair and smiled back. "Course I will, Sal. Something pretty, to impress all your boys with, eh?" He grinned impishly at her and dodged out of the way when her small hand came swinging around to smack him on the arm. He hopped up onto the cart and sat down, grabbing the reins.
"Well, I'm off. Wish me luck." He said, giving both of them a mock salute. Waving at the both of them, he flicked the reins and the cart began moving forwards down the path towards the forest. He turned his head around to watch his mum and sister as they waved in the fading light, calling out, "Goodbye! Have fun! Be safe!" in unison. He watched them until his cart passed into the shadow of the forest and he lost sight of them. Turning back to face forwards, he let his eyes adjust to the darkness, and smiled.
"Come on, ol' girl. Time for an adventure." He murmured, reaching a hand out to stroke the back of the llama which was pulling the cart. Greg sat back and looked up through the tree tops to the dark blue sky above. He could see glimpses of stars, all clustered together into beautiful constellations. The sky was for once clear of clouds, and he felt glad that there would be no rain nor raging storms tonight. It would mean that both his mum and sister, as well as the herd would be safe and fine while he was gone.
Greg drummed his fingers against the wooden seat beneath him. He hummed a few lines from his sisters favourite song. He rummaged around in his supplies pack and grabbed an apple. He looked at it before putting it back; he wasn't hungry. He sighed and closed his eyes. A distraction, that's what he was looking for, and Greg knew it. A distraction from the beautiful letter that was currently burning a hole in the pocket of his cloak.
And more specifically, the beautiful signature at the bottom.
Greg sighed and folded his hands in his lap. He stared ahead at the path through the trees and breathed deeply. He managed to do this for about thirty more seconds, before he gave in a shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled the letter out. Gently, he unfolded the letter and traced over the broken seal with his fingers, the wax emblem textured beneath his touch. In the dim light, Greg turned the parchment over and scanned the words that he had already memorized, before fixating on the sprawling name at the bottom: Mycroft Holmes.
The script was curly and swirling and beautiful. The ink was the darkest of blacks, and the lines were solid and flawless. But that wasn't what was really catching Greg's eye, and he knew it. Boy, did he ever. No, what had really caught his eye, the moment he had seen it, was the actual name. Mycroft, he thought to himself. How many people are named Mycroft? Even with it being the King's name, Greg didn't think many of the kingdom's people had named their son's the same. Maybe after the prince, sure; William was good, normal. Even though he'd taken to calling himself by his first middle name instead, which Sally had informed him was Sherlock. But Mycroft? Mycroft was unique. And it was because it was so unique, so strange, that it triggered something in his memory, something from a long time ago.
Mycroft Holmes, the king, had once been a young boy. King Siger, Mycroft's father, had been in power when Greg had been born, and all through his childhood as well. And as he thought about it, Greg began to remember. He recalled a time when his father had still been alive, had still been the head of the household. He'd had to go to the city to deliver the season's stock of wool, and his father had taken eight-year-old him along for the journey. He remembered being so excited, and feeling so important. And the feeling of awe, when they'd passed through the city's gates and into the busy market square, so full of people and colours and noise. Greg had been a curious and bold child, and so when his father had stopped to talk with one of the vendors, he had slipped through the crowd to go and see....well, god knows what. And so he'd gotten lost.
"Dad, look! I can see the castle from here!"
There was no response. Greg glanced back. He could see what seemed like hundreds of men, but none of them were his father.
"Dad?"
As the memory of being lost entered his mind, Greg's brain finally connected the dots and the rest of the memory of that day flooded him. He closed his eyes and remembered, everything, every single detail; the noises, the sights, the smells, the people...
And one person in particular...
Greg's voice was small and unheard in all the noise of the market as he turned in circles, trying to spot his father or at least his father's cart. But although there were many carts, and many fathers, he was unable to see anything that was familiar. Greg turned to face the way he had been moving and looked back up at the castle, its towers and walls framed by perfectly blue sky. He stepped forwards through the crowds, his gaze never leaving the grey stone of the awe inspiring building in front of him. As a result of this,
Greg ended up walking straight into another person.
"Oof!" He said, as he fell to the ground and onto his bum.
"Sorry! That was my fault, I wasn't looking where I was going." The soft voice of the person he'd bumped into came floating down to him and he looked up. Straight into the light blue eyes of a small boy, no older than five. Greg shook his head and smiled, still seated on the ground.
"Oh, it's alright." He said, pushing himself off the ground and back onto his feet. Greg dusted himself off and grinned before extending his hand. "I'm Greg." The smaller boy smiled and took his hand in his.
"It's nice to meet you, Greg. I'm Myc." They shook hands.
Greg glanced around and turned back to the young boy in front of him. He frowned slightly; wasn't Myc a little young to be by himself? "What are you doing here all by yourself?" He asked, gesturing towards the crowd that surrounded them and the market beyond.
Myc shook his head. "I'm not, my nanny is here too. I'm supposed to meet her by the palace gates at three."
Greg raised his eyebrows. "You have a nanny? That's rotten luck. Is she very strict?"
"Oh, not very. She always lets me play anything I want, as long as I eat all my vegetables and follow the rules." He shrugged. "What about you?"
"I'm lost and looking for my dad. We brought our llama wool in our cart, but now I can't find him." Greg said. "We didn't make a meeting place or nothing either." He sighed and shrugged back.
The smaller boy frowned. "That's awful. Have you ever been in the city before?" At Greg's headshake, he continued. "Well, don't worry. I've been here loads of times, I know this market like the back of my hand. I'll help you find him."
Greg grinned. "Thanks!" He turned to look through the crowd. "So, if I told you that he brings the wool to a man really close to that lady who sells those really nice muffins, would you know what I was talking about?"
Myc thought for a moment, before nodding. "You mean Mrs. Turner? The muffin lady
with the white cat?" He asked.
Greg nodded excitedly. "Yes, that's the one! Her daughter lives in my village, and she comes to visit all the time. She always brings my mum a basket of her muffins." He turned to look towards the direction Myc was now pointing and tried to stand on his tiptoes to see if he could catch a glimpse of anything beyond the people in front of him. Unfortunately, at the young age of eight, he wasn't that tall. He huffed and dropped back down onto his heels. "I can't see anything." He grumbled.
Myc shook his head and stepped forwards. "It doesn't matter, I'll take you there. Come on!" He smiled and moved through the crowd. Greg walked quickly and followed him, the both of them weaving in and out of tight clusters of chatting people.
[To be continued...]