Volume One: Forest Knight, Chapter 80: The Master Thief Hack

Near the table where Beryon and the others were eating, the boy gathered pie, bread, and meat-scraped chicken bones from two neighboring tables and stuffed them into a cloth sack. After clearing those two tables, he passed behind Beryon and went to another table to take the half-eaten honey bread.

As he went by behind him, Beryon, whose shirt had been hiked up from the heat of eating and exposed his belly, suddenly felt as though a breeze had brushed his waist. At the time, though, he had just drunk a large mug of dark ale and paid it no mind.

Still, after sensing that strange draft, he instinctively lowered his shirt. In doing so, his fingers touched his belt, and he realized that the gold ornament at his waist was gone.

It had been made by a metalworker at the request of Beryon’s mother, Lady Cailan, when Beryon was sent to serve Sir Logan as a squire. Though small, it carried a mother’s longing and blessing for her son traveling far from home, and Beryon had always treasured it and worn it close.

The moment he noticed it missing, Beryon hurriedly looked down at the ground and all around him. In that sweep, he saw the boy who had passed behind him using the honey bread as cover, slipping the gold ornament stolen from Beryon’s waist into his sack.

“Stop!”

Beryon roared in fury and lunged to seize him. The boy, realizing he had been caught, panicked and snatched up his sack, bolting out the door. He ran fast, but Beryon and Bran were no slower; they charged out after him into the street, leaving Drew behind in the tavern to settle the bill.

The boy was swift and knew the streets well. Though Beryon and Bran were strong and fast themselves, he still managed to leave them far behind.

Beryon knew that if they kept chasing like this, they would never catch the thief. As the boy veered toward an alley ahead, Beryon exchanged a look with Bran. The two men, so long together that they understood each other at once, needed no words.

After Beryon followed the boy into a narrow, long alley, his pace clearly began to slow. It was not that Beryon was losing the chase, but that the alley was cluttered with all manner of junk. The boy’s slender body could twist and leap, slipping past obstacles in an instant, but the tall and broad Beryon could not.

Even so, Beryon gritted his teeth and pressed on. Though slower now, he remained only two or three strides behind, still enough to keep the boy under pressure.

At the end of the alley stood a fence gate twice a man’s height. The boy stopped. Beryon, panting hard, stopped as well. After catching his breath, he said angrily, “Give it back, and I’ll let you go.”

Though the boy was also gasping for air, he stubbornly shook his head. “I won’t return it. I have great use for what you’re wearing. And if not for the fact that you were the winner of the trial by combat, and a righteous knight who saved an innocent maiden, I would have taken the purse at your breast as well. Be content with that.”

Hearing this, Beryon did not know whether to laugh or to frown. If the boy’s meaning was that he had only lost one ornament, was that supposed to count as fortunate? Beryon asked, somewhat helplessly, “So what you mean is, I should thank you?”

The boy took out the golden eagle ornament Lady Cailan had commissioned, glanced at it, and said, “You should thank yourself. You are a good man. If I had not been driven to it, I would not have stolen from you. Rest assured, whatever comes of this, I will return it to you. I will not sell it, and I will not lose it.”

Though the boy’s tone was gentle, and there was even admiration in his eyes for Beryon, the fact remained that his cherished personal keepsake had been stolen and he was now insisting on keeping it. The fire in Beryon’s heart could no longer be restrained.

“You little thief. I have spoken kindly enough, and you still will not listen. Then do not blame me for showing no mercy!”

With that, Beryon strode forward to seize him.

The boy twisted his body with remarkable agility, ran two steps in the opposite direction for momentum, and then kicked off the wall on one side of the alley. In a flash he seemed to fly, vaulting with the wall’s recoil in a somersault over the fence gate more than ten feet high, and landing firmly on the other side.

Once on the ground, seeing Beryon staring in astonishment, he smiled and said, “Sir Beryon, you cannot catch me. Go back and finish your meal. When I am done with it, I will return it to you of my own accord.”

So saying, he turned and was about to leave. But just as he began to turn, a sharp steel sword was placed against his neck, and the cold touch made him realize that he was in grave danger and could lose his life at any moment.

“My lord, I have been waiting over here for quite a while. Why waste words with a petty thief like this? Just kill him.” The speaker was Bran. Earlier, when Beryon had given him that look, it had meant they should split up and block the thief from both sides.

Beryon had spoken to the thief just now partly in hopes of retrieving the item by negotiation, and partly because he was not sure whether Bran had arrived yet, so he bought a little more time.

The boy, who had just moments ago been smug and triumphant, now felt the sword at his throat and saw danger before and behind him from the two men he had just deeply offended. He could already foresee his fate and could not help trembling with cold sweat.

Beryon walked up to the fence gate, lifted a foot, and kicked. The three palm-width wooden slats on the gate snapped cleanly. He then reached out, forcibly broke them free, threw them aside, and bent down to crawl through.

Seeing how great Beryon’s strength was, the boy’s fear deepened on top of his panic. In an instant, he shook like a leaf.

Beryon walked up to him, took back the golden eagle ornament from his clenched hand, then picked up a length of hemp rope from the ground and handed it to Bran, telling him to bind the boy.

After all, there was no need to keep threatening him with a sword now. With Beryon standing guard, the boy had no chance to flee, and he had no strength left to run anyway. Beryon knew well that once a man’s spirit collapsed, he could no longer summon the will to resist.

Sure enough, the boy was obediently tied up by Bran. Just as the two of them were planning to take him to the constables, the boy suddenly dropped to his knees before Beryon, eyes brimming with tears, and choked out, “Sir Beryon, I beg you, do not send me to the constables. If I am locked in prison for even a few days, my mother will surely starve to death.”

Hearing this, Beryon and Bran both turned in surprise and stared into his eyes. After a moment, and after thinking over what the boy had just told him, Beryon felt that the boy did not seem to be lying. Yet although he was fairly certain of this, he also knew that boys from the lowest ranks of society, boys who survived by stealing, often had tongues full of lies and were adept at exploiting another man’s pity.

Thinking of this, Beryon did not agree at once, but smiled and said, “Very well, we will not send you to the constables for now. Come back to the tavern with us first.”

After bringing the boy back under guard to the tavern, Beryon had Bran keep watch over him in the stables at the back of the tavern courtyard, lest he try to escape. Beryon and Drew then asked the innkeeper and the serving women about the boy’s circumstances.

From the innkeeper and the serving women, Beryon learned the boy’s true story. His name was Hack, and he lived in a slum not far from the tavern. His father was a drunkard who, one winter night five years after Hack was born, fell asleep by the roadside after drinking too much and froze to death. Hack had been raised by his mother, who worked odd jobs in the tavern’s back kitchen, struggling through hardship to bring him up.

At the beginning of that year, Hack’s mother suddenly fell ill. Their mother and son were left without a livelihood, and Hack also had to care for her. Fortunately, the boy was filial and hardworking. He took on odd jobs outside and then came to the tavern to gather the leftovers from customers’ meals, carrying them home as food for the two of them.

The innkeeper and serving women had basically watched the boy grow up and knew him well, but they had never expected Hack to take up theft, much less to steal from a knight. It was truly outrageous.

After everyone had explained Hack’s background to Beryon, an older innkeeper cautiously asked whether Beryon might be willing to forgive this pitiful youth. In return, they could comp the meal for him.

Beryon smiled and shook his head. “I can promise to forgive this boy, but I cannot accept your offer to waive the bill.” Saying this, he tossed five silver coins to the older innkeeper.

After receiving the coins, the innkeeper hastily said, “My lord, you have given too much. Two dinars would have been enough.”

“The other three are payment for your kindness. The god of the forge will surely bless all of you good-hearted people.” With that, Beryon rose and walked toward the back courtyard, leaving the excited innkeeper and the serving women with tears in their eyes.

Once in the courtyard, Beryon had Bran untie the boy named Hack. Seeing that Beryon meant to forgive him, Hack rushed up before him, fell to his knees, and said, “My lord Beryon, I will remember your generosity and kindness forever.”

“Get up. If it were not for the innkeeper and the others pleading on your behalf, I would have sent you to the constables,” Beryon said, helping him to his feet.

“Thank you, Sir Beryon.” Hack thanked him again.

Beryon waved off the courtesy and asked, “I have two questions for you. Answer me truthfully.”

“Yes, yes. Ask away. I will not deceive you,” Hack said, nodding firmly.

“Good. First: how do you know me? That puzzles me. We should not have met before, should we?” Beryon asked.

Hearing this, Hack smiled and answered, “My lord, we have met. Twice, I came to deliver wine when you were in the private box at the tournament grounds placing bets. Both times I was following our master, and you and that wealthy merchant mostly spoke with him, so how could you have remembered me waiting at the door?

Besides, both times I was just a clean little wine boy. I looked nothing like I do now.”

“Oh, I remember now. Yes, you were that little wine boy. There was a burn scar on your right hand,” Bran said excitedly after hearing Hack’s explanation.

Hack nodded. “Yes, that was me. I overheard the master speaking with you, and I also learned Sir Beryon’s identity.”

Beryon nodded as well, then asked, “Why did you steal from me? And if you were going to steal, wouldn’t my purse have been a better target than that rather light ornament? The money in it would have been enough for you and your mother to buy a decent little house in Youngwick.”

“My lord, though in your eyes I am a thief, I swear to the god of the forge that, apart from the golden eagle ornament I took from you, everyone I have stolen from was a bad man. I stole from them to punish them.

My mother taught me from childhood that money is important, but a person should never earn it by any means necessary. Only money honestly won through one’s own labor does not feel like it burns in the hand when spent,” Hack said frankly to Beryon.