The Safe Place

The man sat on a horse beneath the great oak tree. His wrists were raw from their bonds, and the rope that would be his end tickled his neck. A large crowd had gathered to watch him meet his fate. He held his head high as the executioner aimed the crossbow, then fired, startling the horse into action. Many in the crowd gasped as the rope pulled tight on the man beneath the tree.

* * *

Roran ran as fast as his eight-year-old legs would carry him. He ran until he was sure no one would see him cry, unaware that he was crossing onto Lord Bramble’s land. Then, with his back against a sturdy oak tree, he put his head in his hands and wept. 

It wasn’t long before a girl’s voice intruded on his sorrow. “What are you doing at my tree? Do you think you can just come here and -" 

The voice cut off. Roran looked up to see a girl his age staring back at him, her face filling with shock, then compassion.

“You’re the blacksmith’s son, aren’t you,” she said. “The one all the other boys pick on.” It wasn’t a question.

Trying to hide his tears, Roran just nodded. The girl walked over and sat beside him. In a softer voice, she added, “Mother tells me the blacksmith is a hard man. The other women in the village say he beats you.” Again, Roran gave a small nod.

They both sat in silence, listening to the gentle breeze rustle the tree’s leaves. It was a nice, shady tree, perfect for sitting under. Great branches extended outward, providing shelter from sun or rain.

After a couple minutes, the girl spoke once more. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she said. “This tree was planted by my grandfather, Lord Bramble. When I was younger, he told me that it would be my safe place, where I could come whenever I wanted to escape from my worries. When I saw you here, I was shocked that someone would trespass on Grandfather’s land and come to my tree, of all places.”

Roran, who was already starting to feel better, wiped his eyes and apologized. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize where I was running to. I just wanted to get away from -” he choked up. “I had to get away, at least for a moment.”

The girl nodded sympathetically. “I won’t tell anyone you came. And maybe, you could come again sometime.” She hesitated. “This could be your safe place too. We’ll share this tree, you and I. How does that sound, blacksmith’s son?”

Roran finally smiled. “I’d like that. My name’s Roran, by the way.”

The girl smiled back. “I’m Eleanor.” 

* * *

Roran was 15 when Eleanor told him they couldn’t meet at the tree anymore.

“Grandfather passed away last night. He was the only father I ever knew, and now he’s gone. Mother says we only have three days to mourn him. The king has ordered that I be wed to Lord Kestrel’s son as soon as acceptable. He is to take the land, the title, and everything.” Eleanor slumped against the oak in despair. “My life has been decided for me.”

Roran took her hand in his. Over their years of meeting here, he had grown into a strong and confident young man. “Come with me, and we’ll leave all this behind,” he pleaded. “We can go far from here, where we wouldn’t have to worry about kings or lords or anybody else!”

Eleanor drew her hand away. “I can’t, Roran. I have a duty as a lady. Lord Bramble took care of his people, and I need to make sure the new lord does the same. Besides, I cannot leave my mother alone.”

“We could bring her with us! I could get us food - my father would never know, he’s too drunk to notice anything these days. You don’t have to marry that man.”

“No, Roran.” Eleanor’s voice was stern. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I have my duty, and you have yours. What would the town do without its blacksmith? You said it yourself, your father’s in no shape to do it.” She sighed. “I brought you here to tell you that we can’t meet here anymore. I’ll have a husband soon, and I can’t be seen spending time with a blacksmith’s son. It wouldn’t be proper.”

As she spoke, Roran’s face progressively darkened. “So you’d choose a stuck-up lordling over me. I should’ve known it would come to this.” He turned away, the betrayal scarcely hidden from his voice. “And here I thought you were my friend.”

“Roran, wait,” Eleanor protested. The young man did not turn back, but began walking away. “It’s not like that!” she called. “It’s just that -” she stopped, then finished under her breath. “Things are different now.”

* * *

The moon shone bright in the night sky, but the oak tree cast a cloak of shadow over the gathered townsfolk. At their head stood the blacksmith. Lord Kestrel slept soundly in his mansion, unaware of the rebellion forming at the edge of his land.

“For five years, we have suffered under the nobleman’s rule. He has cast aside Lord Brambles legacy, enforcing strict taxes and sending the disobedient to die in the King’s mines. Those who are spared this fate bear the scars of the terrible lashings his guards inflict.” Roran looked out at his neighbors and friends. Only a few had risked coming to Kestrel’s estate tonight, but with his words, Roran hoped the message would be spread to the whole town. “We have borne this affliction for too long,” he continued. “Less than a fortnight ago, the baker’s daughter was taken and killed simply because Lord Kestrel was displeased by her father’s cakes. This tyranny cannot be allowed to continue!”

The townsfolk muttered their agreement. Roran looked at Bracken, one of his co-conspirators. Bracken stepped forward. 

“Lord Kestrel thinks himself above us common folk, but we are stronger than he! If we are united, neither his thick walls nor his hired guards will be enough to protect him from our vengeance. We will take back the government that is rightfully ours!” Several of those in attendance would have cheered, were it not for the secrecy of their meeting. Upon seeing their approval, Roran continued.

“As Bracken said, we must be united. Spread the word to your fellow townsmen. Remind them of the atrocities committed by he who seeks to lord over us. In one weeks’ time, we will meet here again, and Lord Kestrel shall face our wrath!”

With a mission in mind, the meeting concluded, and the villagers returned to their homes. Roran was left by the tree with his trusted companions, Bracken and Lilith. The three of them had been brought together by their hatred of the new lord. Eventually, Roran decided to bring them here, to the tree that had been his refuge since he was eight. Once, Roran had felt safe here. Now, he met with his new friends as an act of defiance, showing Lord Kestrel and Lady Eleanor that they could not keep them off their lands. For months they conspired under the tree, before finally arranging for the meeting tonight. 

“You both did well tonight. More townsfolk came then I dared hope.” Roran smiled at the two. “We may yet have a chance.”

“Of course we will,” Lilith replied. “The others will see reason. That vile man,” Lilith pointed in the direction of the mansion, “has committed unspeakable crimes. The people will make him pay for what he’s done.”

Roran nodded. “You’re right, we have to believe in our fellow men.” He sighed, then looked back at the tree. “You two should head home. I just need a few minutes alone.”

Bracken shrugged. “Just don’t get caught. We’re so close to reaching our goal, it would be a shame to lose our leader now.” 

“I’ll be careful.” Roran watched as Bracken took Lilith by the arm and led her away. The look they shared reminded him of what he might have had, if Eleanor had chosen him instead. He sighed, then leaned against the oak’s sturdy trunk.

Grass rustled behind him. “You should not have come here, blacksmith’s son.”

Roran whirled about, snatching the knife he kept in his belt. He relaxed instinctively when he saw Eleanor standing there, wearing a nightgown, but he kept the knife raised.

“What do you want, Lady Kestrel?” He spat out the words as if the mere taste of them disgusted him.

The lady held up a hand. “I live here, remember? This is my tree you’re using for your rebellious gathering.”

Roran frowned. “So you heard the whole thing, then? Off to tell your husband, are you?”

“Why are you doing this, Roran? You’re not a killer. This isn’t like you.”

The blacksmith narrowed his eyes. “Maybe you never really knew me. Besides, you must know something of Lord Kestrel’s evil actions. I thought you married him to prevent this from happening. Instead, you just stand idly by while your husband destroys our people.” Roran’s voice almost rose to a shout. “I thought I knew you! Apparently I was mistaken!”

Guilt crashed through Eleanor. She stepped forward. “Roran, I’m sorry. I was only -”

“DON’T call me that!” he yelled, causing Eleanor to jump back. Remembering where he was, Roran lowered his voice to a vicious snarl. “You’re not my friend, as you so kindly let me know five years ago. I’m just a lowly blacksmith, and you’re a precious noble. Why don’t you go back to your noble house with your fancy food and plush beds, and leave the rest of us alone?”

Eleanor lifted the edge of her nightgown. “Fine, I’ll go, if that’s what you want.” She projected anger, but inwardly, she only felt shame. “You don’t have to worry about me revealing your plans to Lord Kestrel. I’ll still keep your secrets, even if you hate me.” With that, she turned her back on the blacksmith’s son and marched away without a second glance. Roran seethed as he watched her go, torn between wishing she would stay and never wanting to see her again. When she finally faded from view, he slumped to the ground and rested against the tree. A long time passed before he finally heaved himself to his feet and began the walk back home.

* * *

Lady Eleanor stood to the right of the man she had wed, watching as one of two men she had ever loved was led on horseback to the noose hanging from the tree. A lifetime ago, she had promised Roran that the tree would be a safe place, somewhere the two of them would never suffer any harm. Now she forced herself to look as that promise was broken before her eyes.

Roran was the last of the rebels to die. On the night of the uprising, most of the townsfolk had cowered in their homes while Roran and his companions led a few brave souls to their deaths. Eleanor had kept her word - she hadn’t said a thing to Lord Kestrel - but it didn’t make a difference. There simply weren’t enough people willing to risk their lives, Eleanor included. Now, seeing her former friend with his head held high, she regretted her decision. Her husband grinned as the horse raced off, leaving the rebel leader hanging by a rope. Lady Eleanor shuddered.

Lord Kestrel gave a small speech about rebellions and their ends, then the crowd was permitted to leave. A few looked back at the man they all knew, wondering if they should have done more. Eleanor’s mind was numb as a maid led her back to the estate. The execution was over, the conspiracy ended, but she did not care. She had lost everything she had ever loved.

Eleanor thought back to that moment, several years ago, when Roran had asked her to run away with him. At the time, it had seemed so impossible, but she now found herself wishing she had accepted his offer. She longed for the days when her grandfather was still alive, when she and Roran would sit together beneath the oak tree and forget their worries. They’d talk about the birds, the weather, the townsfolk, anything their minds caught upon. On other days, they’d comfort each other, listening to accounts of Roran’s horrible father or Eleanor’s sick grandfather. They were safe there, just the two of them, friends forged in sorrow. Until Eleanor broke that friendship.

Alone in her chambers, the lady’s thoughts dwelt on Roran’s request. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. She could still run away to him, away from this terrible life with a monster for a husband and a guilt that never died. Her refuge waited for her, and her friend was already there. She only needed to make the choice to follow him. 

The thought took hold of Eleanor, weighing on her mind until she knew she had no other choice. She could not stay in this world of pain and sorrow. She needed her safe place, the one she had gone to for years. As soon as the sun set, Eleanor slipped out of her room, bringing only what she needed. She would meet Roran at the oak tree one last time.

* * *

When the sun rose on the great tree, it illuminated the man and woman that hung, side by side. Their hearts, which had once beat so fiercely together, were forever stilled. Where they once sat and shared their sorrows, their bodies sorrowed no more. Their spirits had fled, but they were safe once more.