The Search for Freedom

Four cows, one camel, and two horses stood in various stalls on one side of the barn, and about a dozen chickens sat along a row on the other side. He quickly refilled the canteen, and then began scooping grain into the bag, planning to arrange them so the eggs weren't touching after he was long gone. Just then the door opened, and Fredrick quickly dove behind the barrel of grain.

“Come out, I know you’re in here,” A male voice announced after a pause. “Either that or I suddenly have a horse I didn't know I owned.” Fredrick didn't move, but sat, paralysed with fear. In a few seconds a middle aged man stood in front of him, he had Gray hair, and a receding forehead. A light tan covered his strong arms and calloused hands. He wore worn shoes, although in better shape than John's shoes had been, his pants, which were held up with suspenders, looked as if they had been mended and patched several times. His face was unreadable.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? A runaway slave who’s stolen his master's horse, and now tries to steal my grain?” He asked, not sounding accusing or judgemental, more like he was making an innocent observation.

Fredrick blinked momentarily, shocked at how quickly he figured that out. “No!”

“No?” He laughed. “What part do you deny? Your bag leads a trail of grain to my barrel, you dress in rags and bare feet, and have a horse in your possession. Either you're a homeless beggar with such high class mean of travel as a horse, or you’re a runaway slave, with your master's horse. And I haven't even mentioned the scars on your back, which again, points to the obvious answer of 'runaway'.”

“Please don't turn me in,” Fredrick whispered. “I'm sorry, I'll give the grain back, I just can't go back to my Master.”

The man sighed and knelt in front of him. “Do you know how much trouble I could get in for helping a runaway?”

“You don't have to help me, please, just let me go!” Fredrick begged. “My master wants to kill me!”

“Tell you what, I'm not going to turn you in. I am going to make you give the grain back however, and if you do that, I think my wife still has some leftover supper you can eat, and we can get your horse taken care of.”

Fredrick glanced up in confusion, surely this must be some kind of mistake. No one freely gave food away to thieves, but three years a slave had taught him to do what he was told, when he was told, with no questions asked. The man never once took his eyes off of him as he unloaded the grain back into the barrel, when Fredrick reached to bottom of his sack, and the man saw the eggs his expression didn't even change.

“I know you didn't get those from this farm, my son just came in here and collected all my eggs. Where did they come from?” He asked.

“A farm down yonder. I couldn't show you the way above land, I travelled through the catacombs all day. And it wasn't like I took all the eggs, only some of them,” Fredrick answered, adding the last part as a defence.

“What about the rest of your stuff? Did that come from your Master or somewhere else?” He asked.

“I got a tin cup from the same place, the rest of it came from my master's,” Fredrick muttered.

“How long has your journey been?” The man asked still totally emotionless.

“I ran away five days ago,” He answered looking at the floor. He thought about pouring the water back into the trough, but surely the man would lose the temper he must be holding back after that. “It's a seven day journey. Mostly we travelled at night, and sometimes during the day, especially after we crossed the border.”

“Your poor horse!” The man exclaimed and Fredrick ducked almost out of habit at the sharp tone. “Your horse needs rest you know.”

“Sorry,” Fredrick muttered.

“Don't apologize to me,” The man sighed. “So, are you running to anything particular, or are you just running away?”

“I was just running away really... I knew I wanted to leave Pantica, and I already did that, so I don't know where I'm going to now,” Fredrick muttered.

“Well you can stay here till you make up your mind,” The man sighed, and added in a softer tone. “I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Although, just so you know, you're free now, and free men look each other in the eyes.” Fredrick slowly looked up at him and made eye contact, long enough to see that he had blue eyes, that were highlighted by various laugh and tired lines, before lowering his eyes again.

“Well, it's a start,” The man sighed, then extended his hand in greeting. “I'm Mathew Couring, what's your name?” For a brief moment Fredrick stared at the hand, trying to remember when the last time someone had offered to shake his hand was before grabbing it. “Fredrick,” He mumbled.

“Well Fredrick, it seems like you've had quite the adventure so far. C'mon, let’s go get you something to eat,” the man, Mathew, commented motioning towards the door.

“I'm okay, I can just move on from here,” Fredrick muttered taking half a step away from him. Mathew walked over and raised the boy's chin so Fredrick, who wasn't putting up much of a fight anyway, was forced to look into his eyes.

“I'm not about to let a half starved boy 'move on from here' with no food for himself, or his horse, and very little, if any, water. Come on, I insist you eat something,” Mathew told him.

Feeling compelled to obey, Fredrick nodded slowly. "Okay, lets go."