Bare Jonas Pt. 01

Duke Alberich of Schwartzenwald was in the town square, holding court on some property judgments, when he heard a commotion.

"Ludwig, go see what the ado's about," he ordered his seneschal.

The Duke had arrived the previous day, with his daughter Liesel, to consult Herr Lothar about an issue regarding her affliction. Ordinarily, he wouldn't come up this way during midsummer, but Lothar was an authority on the subject.

Plus, several other items, the property disputes, and a troll who'd taken residence under one of his bridges, needed settling, so the Duke decided to clear them before the festival.

He was not pleased with what Lothar told him about Liesel's curse, nor that the abbot himself knew not what the Old Books meant, and he had little faith in the knight who'd accompanied him.

Actually, it was the Duke who'd accompanied the knight. Ritter von Brecht was his sister's son. He'd been assigned the task of dealing with the troll, well within his capabilities, but shown an unknightly reluctance for the task. The Duke accompanied his nephew to deal with the other matters.

Ludwig returned. "So?" asked the Duke.

"Just some minor issue regarding a morals violation, Your Grace. The Burgermeister's taking care of it."

"Rumph! I'd rather Struntz help me with these maps. Go fetch him, Ludwig. He can bring the offender too." The Duke turned to his nephew, "Ulrich, fetch Herr Lothar, and have him bring the requirements. We can sort everything out here."

Knight and seneschal left as ordered. The seneschal returned a short time later with Burgermeister Struntz and Constable Meyer. Between them was the, admittedly amusing sight to the Duke, of a very naked, but sullen, young man.

The lad was short, comely in appearance, with dark, slightly curled, hair, and remarkably blue eyes.

"Almost too pretty to be a farmer's lad," thought the Duke, cocking an amused eyebrow. I'm glad. I could use some entertainment. "So, what have we here? Where are your clothes, young man?"

The lad moved to speak, but was interrupted by the Burgermeister. "He claims some local boys stole his clothes, Your Grace. I was about to pronounce punishment for his transgression when your seneschal ordered me before you."

The Duke frowned, annoyed. "Herr Struntz, in my province, as per the law, the accused is allowed to speak in his own defense."

The Burgermeister blushed. "My apologies, Your Grace."

"So young man, your name?"

"Jonas," answered the lad. "Jonas Barre."

"Well, Bare Jonas," the crowd chuckled at that, "Care to tell us how you came to this state."

Jonas looked at the Duke, dressed in his highborn suit of crimson, green, and gold. His badge of title hung from his neck on a gold-linked necklace.

The Duke was a big man, tall, not fat. His age showed in the wrinkles on his face, the gray in his hair and bushy beard, still containing the traces of the former, lustrous red of his youth.

His eyes were hard, green emeralds. No nonsense, but with a twinkle of humor. Rumor had it his daughter inherited the Duke's red hair and green eyes, and her mother's beauty. She was much sought after, but no betrothals, so the story went.

The Duke's look was interest, but Jonas saw none of the contempt, usually given by most of the townsfolk.

"Well, Bare Jonas, I'm waiting." More chuckles.

Jonas was almost tempted to keep silent, but he was not, while angry, spiteful. He told his story.

The Duke listened, bemused. The games these peasant lads play.

When Jonas finished, Burgermeister Struntz spoke. "A very sob story, Your Grace, if it can be believed. The Tiegers are a respectable family. Karl Tieger is one of the most well-behaved lads in the province. I was going to pronounce stocks for this miscreant, and maybe a scourging by the priests for lewd and licentious offense."

A vision of a bloodsucking leech flashed through Jonas' mind, before he heard the Duke speak.

"Mayhap, maybe not. This lad strikes me not as one to simply strip his clothes, and bare his body in such sordid manner. Nor has he the look of the roue about him, albeit his direct gaze on my person indicates some insolence."

Jonas had a habit of being direct in his gaze and speech; a trait the townsfolk, with some exceptions, found annoying.

"He's a moonchild. Simple Simon," said one of the townsfolk. Jonas recognized her, Frau Schulz, one of the town gossips.

"An elfin blood," added Frau Weber, Schulz's cohort.

Mutters of agreement among the crowd, quieted when the Duke spoke.

"I admit I see something of the elves in this lad's mien, but he does not strike me as simple. However his insolence could use some tempering."

The Duke spoke to the Burgermeister. "My opinion is the stocks and a scourging might be too severe for this young man. If he has come to this state as he avers, such actions might be considered unjust. However, for his insolent gaze, and disrespect to my person, my order will be this young lad remains as he is," then the Duke smiled, "for the duration of the midsummer."

There was a moment's silence as the crowd contemplated the Duke's words; then mutters rolled through the mob as comprehension came to the fore.

Jonas stood, shocked. The Duke couldn't possibly mean what he'd heard. Mutters grew to a derisive rumble; the chuckles, giggles, and laughter boiled as from water over a fire. The laughter grew to a mocking roar.

Jonas turned his gaze from the Duke's mischievous face, and looked around. A few weren't laughing. Frau Baum and her husband were present. The looks on their faces were shock and embarrassment for Jonas.

Others, people around the village who liked Jonas, held similar expressions.

Jonas did blush, but more from anger than humiliation. He'd suffered slights from the townsfolk since childhood, but this one topped them all.

"I should hit out," he thought, but that would feel like a triumph for the townsfolk. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction.

So he stood and stared at the Duke, whose mischievous twinkle wavered.

"The lad is a cheeky one," thought the Duke. "Perhaps the stocks are right for him after all," but the look on the lad's face disturbed the Duke, and his stoicism, as the townsfolk mocked him, produced an uncharacteristic emotion. Mayhap I overstepped myself? I wish Greta were here. She always cautioned me on unjust actions.

Liesel, were she in her right mind, would caution him the same.

It was the children who started the chant. It was based on the words of the Duke. It spread through the crowd, and grew like a tumor, until even the Burgermeister and Constable joined in.

Struntz chanted it while looking around the crowd, ever the politician chasing after popularity through siding with the mob.

So Jonas stood, letting the chants of, "Bare Jonas! Bare Jonas," wash over him until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

He turned, expecting some townsman mockery, but it was Frau Baum and her husband, Herschel.

"Come away, Jonas," she said, "We'll stand near the fountain until the crowd clears. We can go to the store after and figure a way around the Duke's order."

Jonas nodded quietly, and let the Baums lead him away. A few of the townsfolk followed, still chanting. Constable Meyer as well, a smirk on his face, but Herr Baum, who outweighed Meyer by one hundred stone, and was taller by a foot and a half, put himself between Jonas and the Constable.

A hard glare from his granite face wiped Meyer's smirk. Constable that he was, even he didn't want to challenge Baum, not unless absolutely necessary.

The small group near the fountain represented the Baums and Barres mutual friends. Jonas was happy to see them. Wish I'd run into them earlier.

The Duke watched the young man go to the fountain with the couple. Aye, I believe I may have done this boy wrong, but my edict stands. A duke must be firm. Perhaps I can make it up to him later.

He saw the lad had some support, at least. The small group he joined positioned their bodies between him and the townsfolk. Better keep an eye on that in case some ado breaks out.

"Uncle Alberich, Herr Lothar," Alberich's nephew brought him out of his thoughts.

"Ah, ahem!" the Duke addressed Herr Lothar. "So, Right Reverend, have the ancient tomes provided any clues to a solution?"

The right honorable Herr Lothar, somberly dressed in the priestly robes of his office, scratched his beaky nose, adjusted his glasses, coughed, cleared his throat, and spoke.

"Your Grace. The solutions are there. It is the . . . wording that is enigmatic."

"Ingredients, in cases like this, are always enigmatic, Herr Lothar. Come now, list them. I'm sure my nephew can figure the words, maybe."

"Are you sure, Your Grace? The list is a little . . . uh . . . sensitive by the standards of propriety."

"Rumph!" growled the Duke, "Any bawdy peasant can take a joke, and this mob just spent a quarter hour teasing a naked boy. List away."

"Ahem!" Herr Lothar's face turned pink, and maintained that tint as he read out the list.

"Ahem! The fruit of a tree's quim.

The lock of a Naiad's flower.

The kiss of a Radiant Boy.

The pearl from a Satyr's staff."

The Abbot stopped. The Duke was contemplative.

"I . . . see," he said. "I must say, the ancients loved their enigmas. If I remember some of the old tales myself, there is usually another complication in this affair."

"Ahem! Uh . . . yes, Your Grace. Um . . . the ancient tomes state the items can only be acquired in the Dunkelalfwald."

A stir rumbled through the gathered townsfolk. Even the Duke felt the chill. Dunkelalfwald, the haunted forest; dark, mist ridden, with all sorts of dark creatures and haunts infesting it.

The Lorelei, the Radiant Boys, the Falschritter were just the beginning. The WildeJagd was said to frequent the wood. Around the times of the year, when the walls between the worlds were weakest, Walpurgis Nacht, Hallows Eve, Twelfe Night . . . Midsummer, dark beings were said to emerge from the wood to create mischief.

Many brave souls ventured into the wood on some quest or dare. None in the province remembered anyone said to have returned.

The Abbot cleared his throat. "There is . . . uh . . . one final item, Your Grace."

"And what might that be, other than all the problems you've listed?" asked the bitterly humored Duke.

"The, um, quester must trade service to a scratch."

"A scratch? What by the bloody gods of Valhalla is a scratch, other than what you do with sharp nails?"

"I know not, Your Grace. The tomes are vague on that, but the old writers insist these are the necessary solutions to your daughter's affliction. There is also a hint, not conclusive I must emphasize, that a major reward awaits the one who can complete the tasks, outside the one you will bestow upon the knight selected."

The Abbot looked pointedly at Ritter von Brecht, "And the nature of the reward, and the bestower, I know not."

"Ah humph!" snorted the Duke. "Well, Ulrich. It looks like you have your work cut out. A troll and the Dunkelalfwald. That should be a good midsummer's work. The peasants and highborn will tell stories about this for ye . . . why, Ulrich. You look a little pale. Is something the matter?"

"Er . . . um . . . uh, nothing, Your Grace. Bad venison, I guess. I'll get right on it. I would suggest, however, that I deal with the troll first. To help ease the flow of farmers coming to the village for midsummer."

The Duke stared, blankly, at his nephew. Ulrich didn't exactly meet his eyes, and his face, once pale, now held a slight blush.

Sad my sister should birth one such as this. I should have used his sister. If only she wasn't otherwise occupied. "I see. Yes, maintaining commerce and safety are important, and a cowardly knight can easily deal with a troll, however, my daughter's affliction is heavy on my mind. Tell you what, I'll split the difference. You, Ulrich, will deal with the troll. I'll see what help I can acquire from the townsfolk here."

The Duke cleared his throat. "So what say you? I'm sure there are plenty of strapping young men willing to challenge themselves against the unknown. A thousand gold guilders to the man willing to help my daughter."

Other than a soft rumble through the gathered crowd, silence. A few young men, here and there, shuffled their feet. Some coughs and whispers. The Duke caught a few, "Not even for ten thousand," in his ears.

"Come, come now. It's a challenge for honor and glory. Surely there must be some among you with a set of iron."

More shuffles, coughs, and whispers. "The Duke is mad as his daughter," hissed from the crowd.

"I'll do it," a quiet, young voice said.

The Duke had been about to order Meyer to find the miscreant who'd insulted him, when he heard the words.

"Who . . .?" He searched, and found the speaker. The nude young peasant, Jonas.

He'd come back from the fountain at the Duke's words. Much of the mockery had died down, and he ignored the Baums' warnings not to go near the crowd. He was curious. What did the Duke need?

The mocking rose anew.

"Bare Jonas wants to be a hero!" one youngster laughed.

Chuckles and more, "Bare Jonas," catcalls erupted.

"Silence!" shouted the Duke. The crowd quieted. The Duke continued, "You do not strike me as a jocular lad, boy. It is not wise to make light of such an important quest in front of a Duke."

"Then why think I joke? Or maybe I'm simple like everyone says."

"You are a young lad, impetuous, certainly not strapping. The bravo you claimed stole your clothes would be more suitable."

"He is not here, and no one else is volunteering."

"You don't look strong enough for a sword, and finding armor to fit you is a challenge."

"I don't want a sword, I don't want armor. Just a pair of sandals for my feet, and my satchel."

"And nothing else, hmmm?" the Duke cocked an eyebrow.

"You said it yourself, 'As I am for the midsummer.'"

"So you mean to go into the Dunkelalfwald naked?"

"As I am for the midsummer," Jonas answered.

The Duke's mischievous smile and cocked eyebrow vanished as shocked realization replaced it. By the gods and Saints! He means to do it!

Ludwig, the seneschal, leaned to the Duke's ear. "This is outrageous, Your Grace. This impetuous peasant boy is mocking you. He deserves a thrashing and the stocks."

"Mayhap he is, mayhap he is serious. If the former or the latter, the Dunkelalfwald will teach him a lesson. One for mocking his betters, the other for foolhardiness. Either way my edict will stand, and maybe my coward nephew, and gutless townsfolk, can draw a lesson from a peasant boy entering a cursed forest naked. Meanwhile, fetch him what he wants."

The Baums were also shocked at Jonas.

"Jonas! What are you doing?!" Frau Baum asked.

"Being a 'strapping young man,'" Jonas smiled.

"A foolish young man," Herschel said. "You don't have to prove anything to them. We can wait them and the Duke out. Someone else can take the challenge."

"Maybe I don't want to wait. Maybe I'm sick of the shit this town has put on me and Mam. Maybe I want to show them all."

"And maybe, probably, definitely you'll suffer death, or worse," Frau Baum said, "What will your mother say then?"

"She'll curse me for a fool, but I'm doing it anyway."

The seneschal returned. He carried a pair of sandals, Jonas' satchel, and a list of the items. Jonas took them, slipping his feet into the sandals, and slinging his satchel over his shoulder.

The watching crowd buzzed, whispered, and shifted among themselves. Some onlookers held mocking faces, not believing this elfin boy would go through with it. Others looked nervous, or agog.

Ritter von Brecht stood by the Duke, his face stone. Jonas stared back, noting something poisonous in the knight's mien. He hates me. He wants me dead.

It seemed flattering, making an enemy of a duke's nephew.

The Duke's face was different, contemplative, with a slight bemusement. Almost like he played a joke that backfired. Maybe it did, but the joke's on me too.

The Baums looked on the son of their close friend. "He must be a moonchild to pull something like this," Frau Baum thought.

"Come along, Jonas," said Herschel, "We'll go to the shop to see about getting you some grub to carry. You're not going into the Dunkelalfwald on an empty belly."

"Thank you, Herr Baum."

The walk to the shop was more curious for Jonas than earlier, as he and the Baums acquired an entourage.

The townsfolk, including Constable Meyer and the Burgermeister, followed them. Many wanted to put a few more mocks on Jonas, but many followed out of curiosity: would Jonas actually do it?

The Baums gave him a sausage, a hunk of cheese, and bread loaf to add to his lunch.

"I'll accompany you to the forest edge," Herschel said. Jonas was about to object, saying he didn't need an escort, but Herschel stopped him. "I have to tell your mother you went in, and I don't trust this crowd. They look to want to follow you too, and some might create mischief on you."

Frau Baum also accompanied, along with their friends from the fountain.

The afternoon was early. The day slightly overcast. A parade of townsfolk followed Jonas. The seneschal accompanied the entourage, at the Duke's order, to confirm Jonas entered the forest.

Some mocking words, and cries of "Bare Jonas," came from some, but then they came to the road's bend, three leagues from the town.

The trail to the Dunkelalfwald branched away from the road. Few took it, except the most foolhardy, and only during the day.

The trail was known as Wolf's Road. It led to the Wolfsschlucht, Wolf's Glen, the glen forming the entrance to the Dunkelalfwald.

As with all things associated with the Dunkelalfwald, Wolf's Road was supposed to be haunted, in this case, by a mysterious headless woman, who appeared on moonlit nights.

In the early afternoon, the road appeared as just an ordinary trail, with large, leafy oaks standing like sentries on either side. Jonas felt a shudder, but steeled himself.

"You sure you want to do this, Jonas?" Herschel asked.

"Ha! This young lad will chicken out in a second," laughed the Burgermeister, to the crowd's chuckles.

Jonas didn't speak, just gave a cold look to Struntz, whose smirk vanished into a look of discomfort.

Jonas took his mother's list from the satchel and gave it to Frau Baum. "Can you make sure to give her these? And tell her I'm sorry?"

"I will," Frau Baum said. Her eyes were wet. "This town has treated you ill, Jonas. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for them. You and Herr Baum always did right by me and Mam. Thank you."

Frau Baum hugged Jonas, and Herr Baum shook his hand. Jonas bade farewell to the others, thanking them for their help at the fountain, and then started down the trail.

The gathered townsfolk were mostly silent by then. The mockery evolved into disbelief.

"Bloody hell!" Constable Meyer whispered. "He's actually doing it!"

Some more whispers rose among the townsfolk as Jonas' actions finally became real.

"He's . . . mad!" Frau Weber gasped.

"By the Saints! He really is a moonchild!" said Burgermeister Struntz.

"Jonas!" Constable Meyer called. "You'll die in there! Get back here! You made your point!"

"There's no point made here, Herr Meyer," Jonas called back, still walking, and not looking back. "And why should you care?"

The townsfolk watched while Jonas walked down the trail, until he disappeared from sight on the west bend.

Herschel Baum turned a cold, angry face to the crowd. "Anyone care to follow him?"

The townsfolk shifted and milled, nervously.

"He'll be back in a minute," Jurgen Struntz opined. "We'll see him running back to the trail within the hour. You'll see." He seemed very sure of this.