Pat Davies

JASPER’S REVENGE!

CHAPTER I:

I was born on a beautiful summer day as the youngest of seven boys. My father named me Jasper. It is my belief that he had finally run out of names and was just grasping for mine. I was the runt of the litter, as all of my brothers are large. I feel that they were probably born large, and just kept getting larger as they matured. By the time I was born, the eldest of us, Jarvis, was already a man, doing a man’s work and learning to be father’s heir. My father is the Duke of Landar in the kingdom of Amica. He holds a large estate and oversees a large area of land and people, answering only to the king. Unfortunately, with seven sons, we can’t all inherit an estate. Jarvis is father’s heir and he learned from an early age what was expected of him. He is a very serious and intelligent man, but very intimidating and very much like father, who is also a very large man.

I think I must take after mother, who I am told was a very beautiful woman but rather small in stature. Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not actually short since by the time I was 16 years of age I was 6 feet tall—unfortunately, when you put me up against my brothers, I look very small since the shortest of them is 6 feet 5 inches and weighs in at about 240 pounds, all muscle. I remember nothing of my mother, who died in childbirth when my little sister was born just three years after my birth. You would think that after giving birth to so many large boys, a little girl would not have done her in, but there it is. My brothers remember mother well and will sometimes talk of her and of how gentle and kind she was. I love those times. Then they will look at me and shake their heads as if in despair. “You are too much like her, Jasper,” they would say. “You need to toughen up.”

They proceeded to try their best to “toughen” me up. Whenever I would show up for lessons in swordsmanship, I would find myself, instead of learning the moves needed to become a decent swordsman, just trying my best just to live through the drumming they would give me. It was no wonder I much preferred my books and the dubious safety of the library. My brothers, with the exception of Bart, who is another story altogether, rarely entered the library. Jarvis was a very studious young man, but any ledgers or books he needed to consult were always brought to his study, so he had no need to come to the library. My father, however, was another matter. He would deliberately seek me out and order me to present myself for sword practice, saying I needed all of the practice I could get because the only options I had in life was to either become a soldier in the king’s army or enter the ministry like my brother, Bart.

There were times that I was tempted toward the religious path, but I’m afraid my temperament just wasn’t suited for such a life. I am not an unreligious man, but I have no desire to spend my whole life in religious pursuits. I’m afraid I do like my comforts and the life of a minister is not one of comfort!

So, I suffered through the harsh reality of my brothers’ teachings in swordsmanship, until one day I learned something that helped me tremendously. But I don’t want to give it away too quickly, now do I? Let me tell you the story of what happened two months before my 9th birthday.

I was sitting in my usual place in the library, curled up in my most comfortable chair, with a large volume of The History of Amica, written in the original old Amican. Not many people speak that language any more, but I have found out that I am very good at languages. I pick them up almost as if by magic. Anyway, my father entered the library and headed straight for me. Now, I can get very involved in what I am reading at times, to the point that I tune everything out around me. Unfortunately, my father hates being ignored. I keep trying to explain to him that I am not ignoring him, I just don’t see him there, but he still feels ignored I guess. So, his way of getting my attention is a knock upside the head. I don’t know if you’ve ever received a knock upside the head, but let me tell you, it does get your attention—if you’re still conscious afterward. This particular time my ears were ringing to the point that I couldn’t hear what father was saying, but I could guess. It was time to go practice my swordsmanship.

Usually, when I am told that I have to present myself in the training shed, I go as slowly as I possibly can, hoping that will delay the inevitable and whoever is waiting to train me will simply get bored and go about his usual pursuits. It didn’t happen often, mind you, but occasionally. This time, however, I was so excited about using my newfound knowledge I hurried to the training shed. Thomas was lounging on a chair with his feet propped up, and when he saw me he almost tipped his chair over. His face looked so shocked, I almost laughed. I knew better than to laugh at any of my brothers, however. They really don’t have a sense of humor when it comes to me.

Anyway, his shock soon died down and he began getting the practice swords down. “You showed up pretty quick! Look kid, have you been doing any of your exercises?” he asked me gruffly. Thomas is my 4th brother, which means he’s only eight years older than I am. He had decided early on that I was going to be his special project, so he had assigned me a grueling schedule of exercises to be done each and every day. I usually did as much of them as I could, but sometimes, when I would get really engrossed in one of my books, well…let’s just say exercise wasn’t my top priority. However, after reading a certain passage in a particular book, I had assigned myself some exercises that I felt were much more suited to my size, which, at age 8, was still pretty small.

“I’ve been exercising every day, Thomas,” I told him truthfully. I felt he didn’t need to know that the exercises I was doing weren’t the ones he had assigned, or, at least, not all of them.

Thomas cast a quick glance at me, obviously not believing a word I said, “Yeah, right. That’ll be the day,” he grumbled as he handed me my practice sword. We walked to the center of the practice floor and I held my sword in the ready position as I had been taught to do. This time, however, I had planned a big surprise for my overly large brother. Usually, I tried to swing my sword at my brother and he countered with a strike of his own which, because of his superior height, weight and strength, always managed to knock my sword from my hand and then he would proceed to lay about me with the wooden sword until I was so black and blue, I could no longer see straight from the pain.

 “Okay, kid,” Thomas said, “let’s see what you’ve learned!”

That was my cue and I immediately began to swing my sword as expected. This time, however, when he started to counter my swing, I jumped to the side, rolled on the floor and leapt to my feet behind him, where I proceeded to swing my sword at his unprotected back. As soon as I had landed a strike, I heard Thomas let out a roar and he swung around to face me. I wasn’t waiting around, however, and I danced to the side and once again swung my sword, striking him once again, this time on his side. He once again whirled about to face me, and once again I did a forward roll, this time right between his legs and struck hard against the back of his leg. This time his roar was one of pain and for just a moment I felt guilty knowing I had caused that pain. It was a fleeting moment, however, as I remembered all of the times he had knocked me flat on my back. As I danced around him, landing blow after blow, I felt a surge of triumph. I was winning this particular battle! Thomas had not landed even one blow on me and I had struck him several times, many of which would have been fatal if we had been using real swords!

Thomas finally lowered his sword to the ground in a gesture meant to halt the practice session. I waited far back from him, not knowing what to expect. Thomas stood, panting to get his breath, and then yelled, “How did you learn to do that?!” He shook his head as if to clear it, and then said wearily, “I’m dizzy.”

“Uh…” I began uncertainly, not sure of what I should say, “I read a book,” I finished lamely.

Thomas burst out laughing. I don’t think I’d ever heard him laugh quite like that, at least not around me. It made me want to smile, but I was too afraid of what he would do next.

What will Thomas do? Will he be angry with Jasper? Will Jasper have to weather the anger of all of his brothers? Stay tuned for the next installment coming soon!

 Short Story by Author, Pat Davies.