Little Tristan
Pistachio #26. Taking a break with Whipped Cream
Rating : G
Timeframe : circa 1240
Thanks, Sly, for picking this. I had never given Tristan's childhood much thought. There's not a whole lot to it, but it got me thinking.
With a grimace, Tristan hauled the final crate off the rear of the cart. How piles of fabric managed to get so heavy, he never could tell. Bracing it against his chest, he trudged into the shop.
He lowered his cargo, setting it with a loud thump on the floor alongside the rest. His mother glanced his way and scrawled another mark in her ledger. Lucera rose from the crate of spices she’d been taking inventory on to eagerly pry the lid from this new arrival. The girl let loose a joyful squeal at the sight of shimmering reds and golds neatly folded within.
Tristan watched her a moment, shaking his head. His mother ducked behind the counter to fetch the merchant his payment, and Tristan ducked back out the door, hoping he would not be missed.
The cart stood near the door, tbe horses tied to it casually gnawing at the sparse weeds that lined the dusty ground. Tristan made his way around to the side yard where the rest of the merchant’s party were gathered and took a seat on the top rung of the low fence. The men sat in a ring in the dirt, intent over the pair of dice that passed among them. Their thick leather armor and the blades at their hips told him these were the caravan’s hired guards.
“Hope you’re enjoying your break,” came his sister’s voice. “Mum’s going to want help sorting things soon.”
Tristan scowled. He hadn’t counted on escaping for long, but he’d hoped it could have lasted more than a minute.
Lucera folded her arms on the fence beside him eyed the lounging soldiers. She frowned and wrinkled her nose. “What’s so special about folks playing dice anyway?”
“What’s so special about a crate of silk?”
She beamed as broadly as when she had opened the thing. “Mum said she’d save me a piece. Just enough for a dress.”
“That’s expensive, Luce.”
“Thins have been good lately,” she said. “Mum’s feeling generous. Now, the dice?”
“Not dice,” said Tristan. “Swords.”
She groaned. “I should have known.”
“One of these days,” he said. “I’m going to ask one of them to teach me.”
Lucera pushed off from the fence, rocking back on her heels. “Don’t let Mum catch you,” she said. “I don’t think she’s feeling that generous.” She strode off towards the shop.
Tristan gave the men and their swords a last, wistful glance and hopped down from his perch to follow her.
Rating : G
Timeframe : circa 1240
Thanks, Sly, for picking this. I had never given Tristan's childhood much thought. There's not a whole lot to it, but it got me thinking.
With a grimace, Tristan hauled the final crate off the rear of the cart. How piles of fabric managed to get so heavy, he never could tell. Bracing it against his chest, he trudged into the shop.
He lowered his cargo, setting it with a loud thump on the floor alongside the rest. His mother glanced his way and scrawled another mark in her ledger. Lucera rose from the crate of spices she’d been taking inventory on to eagerly pry the lid from this new arrival. The girl let loose a joyful squeal at the sight of shimmering reds and golds neatly folded within.
Tristan watched her a moment, shaking his head. His mother ducked behind the counter to fetch the merchant his payment, and Tristan ducked back out the door, hoping he would not be missed.
The cart stood near the door, tbe horses tied to it casually gnawing at the sparse weeds that lined the dusty ground. Tristan made his way around to the side yard where the rest of the merchant’s party were gathered and took a seat on the top rung of the low fence. The men sat in a ring in the dirt, intent over the pair of dice that passed among them. Their thick leather armor and the blades at their hips told him these were the caravan’s hired guards.
“Hope you’re enjoying your break,” came his sister’s voice. “Mum’s going to want help sorting things soon.”
Tristan scowled. He hadn’t counted on escaping for long, but he’d hoped it could have lasted more than a minute.
Lucera folded her arms on the fence beside him eyed the lounging soldiers. She frowned and wrinkled her nose. “What’s so special about folks playing dice anyway?”
“What’s so special about a crate of silk?”
She beamed as broadly as when she had opened the thing. “Mum said she’d save me a piece. Just enough for a dress.”
“That’s expensive, Luce.”
“Thins have been good lately,” she said. “Mum’s feeling generous. Now, the dice?”
“Not dice,” said Tristan. “Swords.”
She groaned. “I should have known.”
“One of these days,” he said. “I’m going to ask one of them to teach me.”
Lucera pushed off from the fence, rocking back on her heels. “Don’t let Mum catch you,” she said. “I don’t think she’s feeling that generous.” She strode off towards the shop.
Tristan gave the men and their swords a last, wistful glance and hopped down from his perch to follow her.