Henry had been
taught how to walk under almost any circumstance. In his youth, his governess
had taught him how to walk like a prince. "Place your right foot directly
in front of your left, chest UP, and your walking stick should gently brush the
ground as your left foot touches the ground. When your left foot comes UP, your
walking stick should swing about in a jaunty manner...JAUNTY, Henry, you're not
trying to spear a boar..." These lessons usually included being whacked by
his brothers' jaunty sticks more than Henry felt was rightly warranted.
Francis' stick had a particularly nasty and frequent bite, as Henry recalled.
And if that
wasn't bad enough, when Byron and Cedric were enrolled in The Academy, they
were taught TWO different types of marching, which they enforced upon Henry
whenever they had time at home (which, luckily, was limited enough). The
first type of marching was quite similar to Governess Walking, although it
involved no cane for scum the likes of Henry. Lean back "AND
STRUT"... Drive your heels "TO THE DECK"... Cover to the front
"ALIGN TO THE RIGHT"... Henry never understood this last part- he was
the only person his older brothers subjected to this torture, so there was
nothing to his front or right except for the occasional tree. Only when his
feet had blistered and the young manservants called them in to dress for supper
was Henry allowed a brief reprieve. He remembered being so tired at one supper
that he dozed off and awoke only when he felt his ear squish into his French
beans. His father had graciously dismissed him to bed after this incident. And
it was fortunate that he had done so, because the next morning Byron and Cedric
deigned to teach him about "humps". This was by far the worst style
of walking anyone could imagine. Henry was unsure to this day under what
circumstances it could possibly be the most effective form of
transportation.
As he plodded
along the dirt road leading from the castle into the forest, Henry recalled his
first "hump". After a full day of marching around the interior garden,
screaming random phrases about "cover" and "heels" and
"strut", followed by a most undignified encounter with his French
beans, the twins decided to punish Henry for his lack of discipline in bean
consumption. The next morning (if you could call the deep blackness of the
middle of the night "morning"), Byron flipped his mattress over
(with Henry still sleeping soundly in it) and Cedric poured a bucket of
something that smelled and felt like a cold horse piss all over Henry's head.
After recovering from the initial shock of nearly being smothered and drowned,
Henry remembered a cacophony of clanging and yelling so loud that he was sure
the entire castle would be alerted to his plight. As it happened, only the
steward and two young kitchen maids were privy to Henry's torture, and they,
out of necessity, kept quiet about it. What the young princes did upstairs was
their own business, so long as the King and Queen didn't care to inquire about
it.
After being forcibly
dragged from his overturned bed by his hair, still dressed in his nightclothes
and reeking of horse piss, Henry was saddled with a satchel full of what felt
to be river stones, equal in weight to that of his body. Then dear Byron took
off at a trot toward the low hills. Henry never would have kept pace, except
that Cedric was behind him, catching his legs or shoulders or head with a horse
whip whenever he began to lag too far behind. Henry was forced to jog to keep
up with the long strides of his fully grown brothers (although he was verbally
berated for jogging instead of increasing his stride length), and on they went
up and down the low hills until Henry's knees buckled with exhaustion.
So it was at
quite a young age when Henry decided that he abhorred walking by any name. Yet
here he was, walking with both a stick and a satchel to an undetermined
location. Henry decided that he may as well plan to walk until he reached the
edge of the earth, since he was as likely to find unicorns there as anywhere
else. And of course, if he were unable to find unicorns at the edge of
the earth, he would have the option there to simply jump off.
Walking always
intensified Henry's melancholy to such criminal levels. He felt quite
fortunate indeed that he was able to walk for nearly three years without being
overcome by his depressing lot in life. And in retrospect, he was grateful for
his brothers' abuse, as he had been able to outrun several potentially
murderous situations throughout his travels.
His abusive
brothers and walking. Henry snorted and ran his hand over his black tangled
mess of a beard as he realized how fitting it was that those were the only two
thoughts in his head on his 21st birthday. His mind should be riddled with the
problems of the realm, the difficulties of entertaining his wife's family on
their impending visit to the country, and making preparations to tame his
political rivals during the social festival season. But it was because of
his brothers that Henry was unable to attain a position that could challenge
his mind in the slightest. It was because of his brothers that he was destined
to a life of endless walking, with nothing to think about except walking and
how his brothers were the cause of his misery. He was both tired of
walking and tired of thinking these thoughts, so Henry ordered another tankard
from the plump pink bosom, despite his better judgment. Tonight of
all nights, he needed the bitter black alcohol to wipe away his lack of
memories.
When his tankard
arrived, it was accompanied not by the plump pink bosom, but by a funny little
man. He was using both of his hands to hold the tankard, but when Henry caught
his eye, he lifted one hand and slammed the tankard to the table with
surprising strength for a man barely larger than most children.
He winked and
said with a slight highland lilt, "Henry. I've been expecting ya for some
time. What took ya so long?"
Henry stared at
the funny man, trying to understand the deluge of thoughts churning through his
head. There was no way his own mother would recognize him in this disheveled
state, so how was it possible that a complete stranger knew him? His first
instinct was to run. Immediately. But there was so much going on in his head
that he couldn't seem to trigger his body to move. Instead, he put into words
the one thought that was not drowning,
"I've been
walking."
"I suspect
ya have. And I bet ya still haven't walked to whatever ya think yer walking
to."
Henry was not
sure how much he appreciated the funny man's nonsense, given that he could
barely make sense of his own nonsense. He tried-
"No.
Because what I'm walking to doesn't exist, and what I think I'm walking to
doesn't exist, so the only thing left to do seems to be to walk."
-and failed. He
lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut to try to slow his thoughts.
"Ach- ya
couldn't be more wrong. If what yer walking to doesn't exist, and what ya think
yer walking to doesn't exist, then I'd say it’s time to find a new destination."
Henry snapped
his head back up and stared at the funny man's little face. For the first time
in his life, his thoughts pointed in a specific direction.
"No more
excuses, boy. I believe I have what you've been looking for."
