The Shadow Chapter 2.

 

 

The Shadow Begins

 

Aidan had no memory of his parents. He supposed he must once have had a mother and father, but he could not remember them. He had been brought up by his Nan, that was what he called her, in the middle‑sized town of Barford.

He often thought it was a strange name for a town with no river, no ford, and no bridge. But Barford was a good place to live. It lay halfway between the Mountains and the Dark Forest, so it was rarely troubled by outlaws from one side or the Witch who lived on the other.

Every Friday there was a Market in the square. Farmers and tradesmen came from all around to sell their produce. The town was run for the King by Lord Dalbard, known by his title The Kingsman. He and his wife lived in the largest house in Barford and were much respected, or at least, Lord Dalbard believed they were.

His job was to keep the peace, make sure the Market ran smoothly, and most importantly, collect the taxes and send them once a year to the Royal Palace. Tax collectors were rarely popular, but the taxes were not high, and most people did not mind paying them too much.

In those days, many tax collectors were dishonest and kept extra money for themselves. Lord Dalbard was not one of those. He was an honest man.

He also acted as Judge in disputes. Again, in those days, Judges often decided cases according to the size of the “present” they were given. Lord Dalbard was always fair.

Most of the actual work was done by the Kingsman’s Clerk, Wilfred, who was paid a good wage by the King. Once a year, Clerks from the Royal Palace came to check the accounts. Lord Dalbard was proud that they had never found anything wrong in Barford.

Even so, he and his wife lived comfortably. Shopkeepers liked to stay on his good side, so he rarely paid full price for anything.

“Oh, that’s for the Kingsman, never mind sending the bill,” was often heard.

Aidan did not give gifts to the Kingsman. He did not give gifts to anyone.

For Aidan did not exist.

He was alive, of course, so in that sense he existed. But if you had said his name to anyone in Barford, they would have looked puzzled. No one knew him.

Aidan did not live in a house. He had no home at all, unless you counted the tumbled‑down shack where he had once lived with his Nan. After she died, he had moved out and never returned. He had watched from a safe distance when they came to take her away to be buried.

For as long as he could remember, his Nan had warned him that he must stay hidden.

“If you are seen, they will send you to an awful place,” she had said over and over.

So, he stayed in the shadows. He knew every back alley, every dark corner, every way of getting from one part of the town to another without being seen.

He could stand in a doorway and watch the townsfolk go about their business, and no one would notice him. He saw them drop things, lose things. Once he picked up a purse a Merchant had dropped and took it home to his Nan.

She was horrified.

“You must never, never steal,” she scolded. “Thieves always get caught in the end, and they will send you to an awful place.”

Aidan had crept back to the Market and placed the purse on the Merchant’s stall. The Merchant was puzzled, but very pleased.

Aidan often overheard things the townsfolk said, secrets they did not want overheard. Once he told his Nan something he had heard a tradesman say about another. She was furious.

“You must never, never repeat someone else’s secrets. They will come looking for the person who told on them, and they will send you to an awful place.”

Aidan never repeated gossip again.

But he discovered he was very good at finding lost things. So he began returning them to their owners. This caused great puzzlement in Barford, but people were delighted to have their belongings back.

One Farmer said there must be a friendly shadow in the town who kept an eye on careless folk.

Sometimes Aidan found small coins he could not return. These he used to buy food from the Market stalls. He would take a small loaf from the Baker and leave the exact money on the counter without being seen.

His clothes he made himself from scraps people threw away. He preferred greys and dark browns, better colours for hiding than black. He always left a few coins to pay for the cloth, even if it had been thrown out.

Aidan found he could walk around the town in full view on Market Days. The townsfolk assumed he was from the countryside, and the country folk assumed he was from the town.

He also learned, by watching the local thieves, that no one noticed someone who walked normally. It was the creeping, sneaking people who drew attention.

Aidan did not like the thieves. They caused him trouble. When something was stolen, the Kingsman organised a search. The locals thought they knew every alley, and perhaps they did, but not as well as the thieves.

And even the thieves did not know the town as well as Aidan.

He could vanish long before the searchers came near, but it was annoying.

In the end, he grew so fed up with the thieves that he decided to get rid of them. He did it simply: he took back the things they stole and returned them to their owners.

It did not take long for the villains to realise they were being watched. Thieves hate being watched, especially by someone they cannot see. They hated even more seeing their stolen goods returned.

Eventually they packed their bags and left for easier towns. They spread the word of a shadow that lived in Barford and protected the people.

The story spread quickly. Aidan soon heard people talking about “the Shadow.” It did not take him long to realise they meant him.

He rather liked the name.

He liked even more the way people began leaving things out for him. The Baker would put a loaf aside and say loudly, “This is for the Shadow.”

Not to be outdone, the Butcher began putting meat aside “for the Shadow.”

Aidan still paid for everything, but life became much easier.

Right in the middle of Barford, Aidan discovered a small triangle of land left empty when the surrounding houses were built. It was perfect for him. The only way in was to climb a stack of discarded timber. The walls kept out the weather, and the roofs of the houses formed a shelter overhead.

Here he made a bed, and a place to cook where the smoke drifted harmlessly away among the chimneys. He had a lamp for light that could not be seen from anywhere outside. It was the perfect hiding place. He even fixed up a couple of shelves for his most precious possessions.

When the Kingsman heard the townsfolk talking about “the Shadow,” he asked the local businessmen whether they wanted him to organise a search for this mysterious creature.

To a man, they told him, very firmly, that they preferred the Shadow to the thieves.

The ladies of the town thought it was wonderfully romantic to have an unknown hero hiding in the darkness. They invented fanciful stories about who he might be, why he had come to Barford, and why he hid from everyone. Since most of them had walked past Aidan many times without noticing him, they would probably have been very disappointed to learn the truth.

Aidan was not the only person in Barford who kept to the background.

The Kingsman lived, as befitted his status, in the largest house in town. Such a house needed many servants. There was a footman called Charles, not his real name, but Lady Dalbard had read that footmen were always called Charles, so Charles he became.

There was a coachman called John, again, not his real name, but Lady Dalbard insisted.

There was a Cook, known only as Cook, and various kitchen and housemaids whose names no one remembered except themselves.

The least of these maids was Emma.

Lady Dalbard had also read that housemaids were not supposed to be seen by the Master of the house. So, she issued strict instructions that whenever she or her husband walked through the house, the maids were to keep well out of sight.

This suited Emma perfectly. She was very good at slipping into corners or doorways so as not to be seen.

As the youngest and most recently hired maid, she did the most work. Emma did not mind. She was used to hard work.

Lord and Lady Dalbard were not cruel masters. Their servants were well fed, paid on time, and even given regular holidays. For Emma, the most wonderful part of working for the Kingsman was that she had a room of her own. She had a bed she did not have to share with one, or sometimes more, other girls.

Emma had come from the Orphanage, where she had worked hard for no pay and shared a bed in a large room full of other girls.

Once a week, the housekeeper, who was also the Cook, gathered all the servants in the kitchen and handed out their wages. Emma signed her name on the paper to say she had received her money. The Orphanage had insisted that all the girls learn to read and write, and Emma was grateful for it.

She took her wages up to her room. There, hidden under a loose floorboard beneath her bed, she kept a small tin box. She carefully placed the money inside. The other maids sent some home to their parents and spent the rest on their day off.

Emma had an ambition.

She had no intention of being a servant all her life. She was saving to open a shop, not just any shop, but a bookshop.

She had it all planned in her head. She would sell books to those who could afford them, and lend books for a small fee to those who wanted to read but could not buy.

By her bed she kept a small table and a candle, and she always managed to read a chapter before she fell asleep.

There was a large library in the house. Lady Dalbard liked to think of herself as a woman of good taste, and owning many books was fashionable. She did not read them. Her favourite reading was the latest fashion magazine.

Emma would have loved to borrow a book from the library, but she did not dare. One day she was standing admiring the shelves when the Kingsman’s clerk, Wilfred, came in. Emma was so engrossed she forgot to hide. He asked if she could read, and when she said she could, he borrowed a book for her.

From then on, it became a regular thing. Wilfred borrowed a book from the library and passed it quietly to Emma.

There was another reason Emma preferred to stay out of sight.

One day at the Orphanage, the girls had been playing a silly game, deciding who was the prettiest. To Emma’s astonishment, they chose her.

This did not please another girl, who believed she was far prettier. Words were exchanged, and the jealous girl slapped Emma across the face.

It was not a hard blow, but for some reason the mark of her hand never faded. From that day on, the left side of Emma’s face bore a red handprint.

She grew her hair long and trained it to fall across her cheek, hiding the mark.