The Eyes of the Dragon

63

That Ben Staad didn’t already understand abstractly about this strange new state of affairs he discovered very concretely the next day.

He had driven six cows to market and sold them for a good price (to a stockman who didn’t know him, or the price mightn’t have been so good). He was walking toward the city gates, when a bunch of loitering men set upon him, calling him murderer and accomplice and names even less pleasant.

Ben did well against them. They beat him quite badly in the end-there were seven of them-but they paid for the privilege with bloody noses, black eyes, and lost teeth. Ben picked himself up and went home, arriving after dark. He ached all over, but he was, all things considered, rather pleased with himself.

His father took one look at him and knew exactly what had happened. “Tell your mother you fell down,” he said.

“Aye, Da’,” Ben said, knowing his mother would not believe any such story.

“And after this, I’ll take the cows to market, or the corn, or whatever we have to take to market… at least until the bankers come an’ take the place out from under us.”

“No, Da’,” Ben said, just as calmly as he had said Aye. For a young man who had taken a bad beating, he was in a very strange mood indeed-almost cheerful, in fact.

“What do you mean, telling me no?” his father asked, thun-derstruck.

“If I run or hide, they’ll come after me. If I stand my ground, they’ll grow tired soon enough and look for easier sport.”

“If someone draws a knife from his boot,” Andrew said, voic-ing his greatest fear, “you’ll never live to see them grow tired of it, Benny.”

Ben put his arms around his father and hugged him tight.

“A man can’t outsmart the gods,” Ben said, quoting one of Delain’s oldest proverbs. “You know that, Da’. And I’ll fight for P… for him you’d not have me mention.”

His father looked at him sadly and said, “You’ll never believe it of him, will you?”

“No,” Ben said steadfastly. “Never.”

“I think you’ve become a man while I wasn’t looking,” his father said. “It’s a sad way to have to become a man, scuffling in the streets of the market with gutter louts. And these are sad times that have come to Delain.”

“Yes,” Ben said. “They are sad times.”

“Gods help you,” Andrew said, “and gods help this unlucky family.”