Chapter Five

Beaux stood at his Uncle's door knowing it would be the last night he'd be there. In one hand was the delightful food, the other was bunched so tightly his knuckles were white. He lifted and knocked gently on the simple wooden door. Clatter was heard, then feet shuffling against the creaking planks. It swung open in a wide and excited motion, inside was the great smiling man. Black soot stained his forehead and hands, and he ushered Beaux in with great tenderness.

"I see you've been busy making soap, aye Uncle?" Beaux asked as he wrinkled his nose from the putrid smell inside the shed.

Uncle Less' smile grew brighter "Yes! Yes!" He said with great enthusiasm snatching the dinner away.

He plopped down onto the cot as he always did and beamed at the slice of cake.

"Daddy said it's not right to have dessert f-f-f-first," Uncle Less said, sticking a sooted finger in the rich white peaked frosting, "bu-u-t that's why Daddy was always-s-s-s so bitter!" Then the gent picked up the slice, ignoring the fork completely, and shoveled half of it into his mouth.

A funny sight that made Beaux erupt into great heaves of laughter. The room had been as it was every night, and the work table had a bucket of freshly clarified fat. A single candle was drying at the window.

Elegant swirls of black twisted into pointed wings, a head long and angled twisted to meet the wick. A dark swan, with its beak agape in horror, fearful of the man who would dare to light it ablaze. Its wings were spread halfway to flight, and on a second look maybe the creature was not in fear but ready to fight. The base of the candle was a great many twists, to replicate blades of grass at its dark claws. As if it had been spooked and needed to take to the sky quickly, angry that it's place had been seen.

"Exquisite." Beaux whispered, admiring the great piece. It was no bigger than the palm of his hand, and he wondered how Less had the patience to create such a beautiful piece of art. In the same world that the Poncè women were high ladies, Uncle Less was a great artist and all those that saw his work would weep from his great skill. Beaux would hold great fares to show the world his uncle's fine work.

Icing was in the hairs of his beard as Less grinned, "I o-o-o-once saw a great black swan. It was the biggest bird and whe-e-e-en I cried out to f-f-father it looked like that and screeche-e-e-ed"

Beaux raised an eyebrow, knowing that there was no such bird. Black Swans were a symbol in Tethya of great warning, bad things to come. They'd never been spotted, only used as symbols in stories of men who'd commit atrocities and lands dried barren. Children's stories claimed they'd drag you deep into dark lakes, where one's lungs would be filled with blood and water. His Uncle's imagination must've run free, his eyes mistaken.

"It was a special day," said Uncle Less, "the day my first n-n-nephew was born-n-n, you Beaux Beaux."

Beaux laughed again, a black swan on his day of birth? Not a pleasant omen if he ever heard one.

Less joined in with the laugh, "And-and Daddy was so mad, he said I l-l-lied!"

Grandfather Guillard died only a few months after Beaux had taken his first steps. No memory of the man remained, but his mother often told tales of the man's adventures as a military officer. Beaux's grandmother died many years before, a woman withered too early.

"Do you not think it was perhaps a large crow?" Asked Beaux in near jest, taking the seat at the table to study his uncle carefully.

Less shook his head in a great motion while slurping the food in his bowl. "Was a black swan."

Beaux knew it best not to argue with him, his mind was stubborn though his facts were wobbly. There was no way a black swan would be seen on their lands, or any lands in the sow it was simply impossible. Even if the creature's existence was known, it would be nowhere near such a derelict place.

When Less had finished the food, he set the empty dishes aside and reached under the cot. Clean butcher paper was there and twine. He shuffled over to the table next to Beaux and gently swooped down the candle wrapping it and leaving a book of matches inside with the gorgeous swan.

"On the darkest of night, one can light a single candle and their path will be bright." Uncle Less said in a surprisingly clear voice. It was a quote used often among old wives. Early in the war, they'd say this and light a candle in their windows, leading their husbands back home.

Now, it was rare to see a light in any windows.

Uncle Less took Beaux's hands and placed the wrapped candle in them.

"For your a-a-a-adventure Beaux!" He said with sudden enthusiasm, "you ne-e-e-ever know when you-u-u need a light!"

Beaux smiled and took the package, his heart felt like it was about to burst. Only his family stirred such emotions, he couldn't be bothered to care about the country of Tethya or the villains in the north. As long as his family sat safely in the Poncè house, he would give his life ten times over. A horrible death may have awaited him, but even his dying breath would be used to scream the tenderness that crept through the crevices of his soul.

"Farewell Uncle." He said and took the man into a tight hug. Uncle Less smiled and held him back, patting his back gently. Beaux couldn't imagine lightning such a precious gift.

Back in the house everyone was settling down for bed. In their respective rooms, slipping into dreams each their own. Beaux walked into the bathroom, and in the dim light he could see Dona there, setting clothes in the bath to soak for the next day's washing. He lightly tapped on the door to let her know he was there, she whirled and set her eyes on him.

"Uncle is well?" She asked in a hushed tone, to avoid stirring any baby that may have heard her voice.

Beaux sighed "Yes, but someone needs to air out his room, it's a tad smelly."

Dona chuckled and went back to her evening work.

"Are you well Dona?" He asked, and her hands stopped their scrubbing. Her head slowly turned and he could see that now her cheeks were flushed a deep crimson and tears were streaming. She looked a bit like that night he had found her in the field and a great panic froze him solid.

"I'm fine Beaux," she sniffled, pushing the tears away in aggressive wipes "I can't imagine how we will go on."

Beaux went to her and grabbed a small dry towel dipping into a bucket of clean water. He wiped the heat from her face, and saw as she relaxed near him. Her body slumped to the floor, and he went with her. The smell of lavender soap they used for the wash made the air sweet. He said nothing and chose to wait for her to finish what she needed to say.

Dona shook and wept a little more "It's not the work I fear, or the villagers. I can't imagine a world where I can't see you or hear your voice. My baby brother, I should go in your stead."

Beaux rubbed the back of her arm to sooth her and let out a small laugh.

"You plan to take my place in the war, six months pregnant?"

She snapped out of the sorrow and said "I would do what it would take."

Beaux knew it was true, he could see the fearless Dona, flying into battle with a bump under her dress and pistols in hand on the back of a graying Honey.

He moved his hand from her arm to her forehead and flicked it lightly. She blinked and flinched from surprise.

"Don't be silly, you have a more important job than I do," he said in a gentle voice, "you need to stay here and raise these babies, especially Fen and Ton."

Dona huffed, but pushed his shoulder away playfully. "I think they need a little less raising, and a little more beating."

The thought made the two laugh, and he rose back up to the door.

"If I can find a way, I will come home." He said not looking back, and walked back into the hall. Kandy was standing there, caught red handed listening in on the conversation. Her hair was down, and the great curls were framing her doe-like face. Beaux ruffled her hair, and sent her back to bed sternly. She looked at him for a moment, then turned back to where she had scampered from.

In his and the twins' room, the boys were sprawled on his bed expectedly. Beaux's promise hung in the air between them. He placed Uncle Less' gift on the top of their shared drawers.

"Only one ale, and then I'm coming home to get some sleep." Beaux said in an exasperated tone.

The boys wrestled in excitement, pushing each other to rise and take on the revelries the night had to offer.

They left the house first, climbing out the window in their room. The door they had preferred to avoid his aunt's wrath. Beaux shook his head when they tried to beckon him to follow. He was old enough to go out the front door like a man, and scooping a bottle of wine from the kitchen would lessen the dues at the tavern.

Before they disappeared, Ton looked back and grinned deviously.

"It's a fine night for some fun." Ton said and vanished.

In the family room, his mother was sitting near the fire sewing a coat that must've had a loose hem. She saw him and smiled gracefully.

"Going to bed soon, Mum?" Beaux asked moving to inspect her sewing work.

She set the work in her lap and soothingly cooed "Oh my sweet Beaux, you ought to go to bed first."

He shrugged his shoulders and nodded to the door, "I'll have a drink with the boys and sleep like a lamb."

She chuckled and opened her arms for a hug, Beaux bent into the embrace. She smelled like the babies, sweet and powdery. Luna had always tended to the babes, one after another and was known to even cradle piglets when they were small enough to be held.

"Be well and come home safely." She said solemnly into his neck. The words meant more than just his trip into the village for drinks, but also his travels beyond the sow and into the great lands. Beaux frowned and pulled away, but she was still smiling tenderly.

In the kitchen, he went through the cabinets for a bottle of anything strong enough to get him drunk. Beaux was not scared of a good swig of something strong. The twins may have been known to tear up the tavern with their wild tendencies, but Beaux was often caught sneaking a bottle out to the fields to drink and stare at the twinkling stars. When he found a decent bottle of port, he took it and walked out into the night and to the rite beyond.