Chapter Three. Arthur vs. Honesty

[Three days earlier]

The criminal hung his shovel and pickaxe on the wall of the tool shed and carried a galvanized metal bucket and a two-liter plastic jug of soap over to the concrete slab next to the horse pen. He slung off his orange leather gloves and unlaced his equally orange work boots; all four items had # 88588 stamped on them in black ink. He threw the government issued equipment by the fence before turning on the water spigot. On such a hot day the cold spring water was really refreshing; he soaped up with a generous amount of liquid horse shampoo.

Right in the middle of his bath a couple Danubian tourists, just back from a trail ride, opened the gate and walked down the stone path. As the man and woman got closer they frowned at him, whispering to one another, looking all indignant and superior.

�Haven�t you ever seen a guy take a bath before?" Arthur snapped in English, and then dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. Most of the water intentionally missed him, hit concrete and splashed widely. Arthur wiped the soap off his face then turned to watch the couple pick up their pace and hurry off.

�Gloating bastard!" Arthur fumed. "Strutting around here in his pants... and his shirt and stuff. And that stupid bitch... just taunting me with her cotton socks... comfortable white tennis shoes... pockets..."

�Someday I'll have pockets!" A couple horses rose up from eating hay and turned their heads in his direction. "That's right, I'll get a... a vest, with pockets all over it... front and back, and then I'll put on a pair of pants! And a belt and then..."

The rant went on until most of the horses moved to the other side of the pen and Arthur's skin started to itch. He glanced around him; he was relieved that no one had been listening to or watching his outburst. "Um... there's nothing wrong with talking to yourself, everybody does it, right? Just... um... out in the sun too long, working too hard, not getting enough sleep... that's all. Yep, I'm perfectly normal, average really." Arthur waved to the horses. "Nothing to see here, move along."

Arthur rinsed off the dried soap and by that time he was getting hungry. Wet skin dried quick in the hot dry air as he walked downhill taking the long rock path that zigzagged through a stand of pines and ended at the low wide building that held the kitchen and dining hall. There were several campers leaving and several staff going in the front door. Arthur entered through the kitchen; criminals like him ate either out back by the chicken coop or standing in the kitchen if it was cold or wet.

Arthur walked through the service area where the cook doled out food to a line of campers over a waist high counter. The cook was a large sturdy built woman, with a broad friendly face and some gray in her tightly braided black hair. She was energetic despite her age, despite being overworked; and always happy to talk to staff and campers. Arthur thought it was extra peculiar how she talked to him, a convicted criminal and a foreigner, as if he were family.

The cook smiled warmly, pausing with a tray in one hand and a ladle in the other; she shook her head. "I'm so behind today... Akthur, could you go in the storeroom and bring out more trays?"

The storeroom had one doorway that faced the kitchen and another that opened into the staff dining room. Arthur heard Hook's distinctive voice. Through the sizable gap between door and frame he could see Hook, a couple other rangers, two handymen, and various family members seated at the same long table. Gretya sat opposite her father. Hook berated his daughter in front of everyone, calling her stupid, disrespectful, dishonored and he kept saying something about protocol and his table. Arthur shook his head. Gretya must have finally broke down and told him about the boyfriend. He felt sorry for the girl; Gretya looked so small and frail.

Arthur turned and quickly grabbed an armful of aluminum trays; best not to keep the cook waiting, she was one of the friendly people at the camp, and the food was really good.

The cook thanked him as he placed the stack of trays down on the countertop, calling him by the Danubian word for son. As he waited for her to get caught up Arthur thought over the whole situation with the ranger and his daughter. Hook had punished his daughter severely for sneaking around with a boy, Arthur wondered what would happen if the tables were turned. He had no idea what sort of scandal that would cause but it would be awfully interesting to find out.

Arthur ate his supper standing on the back porch and then carried his tray and empty glass inside. The cook was putting away leftovers. She turned to Arthur. "You want more Akthur?"

"No ma'am, I'm full."

"Come here, eat some more, you too skinny" She chided. "Let Langka put some meat on your bones. Here, have more desert, Akthur," She raked a pile of blackberry cobbler into his empty tray. "This make you strong like bear," she winked, "or fat like pig!"

�Uh, well..."

Arthur finished desert though just barely, when she tried to push more on him he had to be firm. "No ma'am, please... if I eat any more I won't be able to move and I have a lot of work to do."

�What work? You work all day."

�I have to haul water up to the stables."

"What, water pipes break up there?"

Arthur felt a little shy. "No ma'am, it's... uh... punishment for breaking another regulation. I have to fill a big horse trough with creek water every day this week."

�Akther," The cook frowned. "I worry about you. You good boy, why you get in so much trouble?"

Arthur looked down, scratching at the back of his head. "Um... I don't know... my mother used to say that I have a talent for being difficult," Arthur grinned. "Or maybe I'm just not very bright."

�Bah..." She waved a hand dismissively. "Akthur, you not dumb. Difficult... mmm... maybe. What you do this time?"

�Curfew violation." Arthur shrugged. "I really didn't think it was that big of a deal... but it turns out they're pretty touchy about me wandering around unsupervised, you know... outside the collar zone." Arthur put his empty aluminum tray by the sink.

She glanced down at his marked skin, frowned. "Hmm hmm hmm... It looks like the police be mad at you too."

Arthur nodded. "The police are always mad."

�Well..." She smiled in her casual good-natured way. "The police have hard job, they do their best."

�Yes ma'am." Arthur agreed. They had beaten him several times; the police, most definitely, do their best.

As Arthur walked back up the forested hill toward the stables, he just couldn't stop thinking about the ranger and his daughter. It would feel so good to get back at Hook for filing a complaint with the police, for slapping him around, for all the extra work, and for the cruel treatment of Gretya.

Arthur considered the girl. "The worst part is that she probably thinks she deserves it, Danubians are so weird like that. Would it kill them to have some self-pity or bitterness? It's so frustrating to have to avenge a girl who doesn't even know she needs avenging."

"No," Arthur folded his arms and stopped at the brown wooden gate of the horse pen. "I'm not going to do it. It's not my business. I barely know the girl. I have nothing to gain. I'm not going to start another scheme... not after the way the last plan failed." He was firmer with himself this time. "I'm going to be a good obedient criminal just like my spokesman wants... reform myself... I'll get on the right path... the correct path... I just need to stay on the damned path!"

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[One day earlier]

Gretya lugged the galvanized metal bucket along, setting it down every ten meters or so to rest worn out arms. Fifty meters back, Arthur also climbed the forested hill, hauling water up the narrow dirt trail one bucket at a time. He was quickly gaining on her as the distance Gretya carried her burden became shorter and shorter. Then the exhausted girl stumbled but managed to not dump all the water. She leaned forward with hands braced on her knees, breathing heavy, frowning at her soggy feet.

Gretya took a sharp breath and turned when she heard the criminal approach, then relaxed as she recognized him. Loose strands of brown hair stuck to her wet forehead.

Arthur set his water down on the trail a few meters below the teenager. For a while they smiled stupidly at one another catching their breath, too exhausted for much conversation.

Arthur recognized the girl but they had never spoken more than a greeting. Gretya looked about fifteen, with big brown eyes, wide mouth, dark brown hair down to her elbows, a slight frame, and shoulders obviously not built for heavy loads. "Have to carry that all the way back to the camp?"

Gretya nodded shyly. "You too?"

He smiled. "I have to fill up that big concrete horse trough after work this whole week." Arthur gestured to her bucket. "There seems to be a lack of creativity around here."

"Yes, father's treating me like a criminal now!"

Arthur enjoyed the sound of her laugh.

She stared down at her drooping socks, bit her lower lip. "Uh... Criminal # 88588," Gretya looked up apprehensibly. "Thank you for not telling my father... you know... when he questioned you."

Arthur shrugged. "Well... I didn't think anyone else needed to get in trouble over that."

She started to say something and then lowered her eyes.

�What is it Gretya?"

"You um..." Her voice trembled. "You didn't get in trouble with the police because of us did you? The switching, I mean?"

�No no," Arthur lied in a panic. Feeling dangerously close to some kind of Danubian honor trap, he scrambled to think of something quick. The last thing he needed was to have the teenage daughter of Ranger Miksutivosk feeling indebted to him. Hook was suspicious enough already, and plenty angry.

Arthur looked the girl straight in the eyes. "Gretya, it had absolutely nothing to do with you or your boyfriend. I got in trouble for being outside my quarters at night, unsupervised; I would've got that anyway." Arthur's sudden laugh startled Gretya and moved the conversation along. "You know, that was the third time I've had to go before a judge since my trial? I think they're starting to realize it was a mistake not to execute me!"

"Don't say that," Gretya frowned. "Your life is a gift from the Creator; I believe that everyone has something special about them... something that they're here to do. You have a purpose to fulfill, to live your life and love people and be loved... and to find your Path in Life."

Even though her words sounded hopelessly naive in the way that only teenage girls could manage, her kindness did make Arthur feel better, it was nice to be talked to like a human being for a change. Arthur nodded slightly and waited, seeing how there was something else she wanted to say.

�His name's Dietrikt," Gretya spoke softly, looking more and more depressed. "He... he hasn't sat at my father's table. My parents would be furious... it's not honorable what I've done."

�So why not go to your parents and ask them to invite Dietrikt?"

Gretya sighed. "My father expects me to marry another young man... the son of a businessman he knows, he's from a prominent family in Rika Chorna."

�I didn't know you had arranged marriages here."

�Um... not arranged but... it might as well be... father can turn away any boy I might want to see. He would never accept Dietrikt anyway... he um... he's a Westerner."

�A foreigner?"

�No... um, you know... a Westerner, from the western provinces around Danube City. My father would never let me see a Westerner. I mean, don't misunderstand... I'm proud to be of Eastern descent ... my family has lived here since King Vladic's Betrayal and the Exodus from the South... "

Gretya veered off into a long defense of both herself and her secret boyfriend who, she said, was a good person despite being from the dreaded West. Arthur inwardly cringed as he listened to the girl go on and on; if there was one subject he was thoroughly tired of hearing about it was the idiotic five-century-old feud between Danube City and Rika Chorna. To hear Easterners tell it, Danube City was populated by weak kneed dandies who spent their days bowing down and kissing the toes of the corrupt Grand Duke and his ridiculously dressed court of royal hangers on. From some of the unflattering pictures Arthur had seen in the newspaper the 'ridiculously dressed' part was accurate, but the rest of the feud seemed awfully stupid.

�Criminal # 88588," Gretya said at last. "I really didn't expect you to help us but I appreciate it; I'm so glad you didn't tell father." Then quickly: "and I don't think it's right the way they treat you. You don't seem that bad... bad as they said you were, corrupted I mean... um... I mean you're not like I was expecting, you know from what everyone said about you."

Watching the girl blush amused Arthur. "You expected the dangerous spy, or the evil criminal mastermind? I hate to disappoint people but the truth is that before I was arrested here my criminal activities consisted of driving over the speed limit and maybe disturbing the peace."

"You had an automobile in America?"

"Sure, a big red Chevy pickup truck with tinted glass and a big loud sound system; had a boat too, kind of junky but it was fast enough for skiing." Arthur pointed to a long scar along his left forearm. "See that? Hit a log in the water the summer before last, fifteen stitches, but at least it didn't damage the skis- those things are expensive. I had a friend who was in veterinarian school so the stitches were free and the boat was... the boat was... um" Arthur stopped, eyes darting. "Wait a second... What the heck happened to my boat?"

"You lost your boat?"

�I gave most of my other stuff to my sister after my arrest, but... hmm... strange that I didn't think about the boat until now." Arthur shrugged it off. "Well, maybe whoever has it's having a good time."

Gretya frowned. "It must be terrible going from all that you had in America to this."

"It has been hard... the restrictions, the pain, the humiliation..." Arthur paused as if thinking something profound. "It's like being married, maybe."

"What is... is it... did you mean that marriage in America is like being a criminal?"

"Well no..." Arthur shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "I was just making a joke, but I guess it wasn't a very good joke if I have to explain it."

"Do Americans do that, say something false and laugh at the person they deceived?" Gretya stiffened at the perceived insult.

"No... I mean... you have it backwards, see when you tell a joke like that you assume everyone knows it's not true, it isn't what you really mean, so you're not trying to deceive them you're trying to surprise them with..." Arthur sighed and decided to give up on the explanation. "Gretya, I didn't mean to offend you, I guess some things just don't translate."

The girl's eyes narrowed, concentrating on a foreign concept. Gretya finally cracked a smile; visibly eased, she shook her head. "You're very weird, Criminal # 88588."

�I hear that a lot."

�My father doesn't want me talking to you."

�I also hear that a lot... people avoid me, that's why I'm here working for the MNR... private employers don't want to hire me."

�They�re afraid, afraid of you?"

"I suppose... people know what my former employer did, they think I'm the same as him, but he's dead now and I'm stuck here to play the villain and take the blame. To most people I'm the enemy, and it's not going to be easy to change their minds."

Gretya looked down sadly and murmured: "People get blamed for a lot of things that's not their fault sometimes."

Arthur figured the girl was referring to herself more than him. He prepared himself for a rip tide of teen angst, but it didn't come.

Gretya stayed quiet for a moment, and then she smoothed back strands of her hair out of her eyes. "Criminal number 88588, do you mind if I call you by your name?"

�I�d like that Gretya, call me Arthur if you would... but around the staff, especially your father, you should probably still use the number." Arthur caught himself feeling exuberant over something as simple as some teenager he barely knew calling him by his real name, it was a really stupid thing to get excited about but it did feel good.

After several repetitions they settled on the close enough pronunciation then it was time to get moving- the day was getting long and there were water troughs to be filled.

Gretya struggled to walk up the slope. Arthur felt sorry for the girl; having to live in the same house with Hook would be rough; the ranger was a natural bully who didn't mind putting her down in front of other people. The girl's mother worked most of the week in Rika Chorna; so Gretya got to spend her summer vacation with dear old dad.

Arthur couldn't help but like Gretya. Consequently, he was starting to feel guilty for accidentally ruining the teenager's fun with Dietrikt and getting her in trouble. From the stiff way she walked, he figured she had gotten some pretty severe punishment in addition to the chores.

The extra work, the fresh set of welts on Arthur's skin, and some of Gretya's troubles were all unfortunate side effects of his latest plan failing miserably. Everyone thought it was a simple curfew violation. If the police had known what Arthur had really been up to the consequences would've been considerably worse.

"Let me help you with that," Arthur offered. "I'll carry it up the hill until the clearing, it's easier for me to balance anyway- that's why they don't let me use two. It's alright," he shrugged. "I'm used to this sort of work by now; it takes about twenty trips to the creek to fill that trough up."

�Twenty! I was complaining about two." Gretya was thankful for the help; she smiled as she walked in front of the criminal up the shaded path toward the edge of camp.

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Arthur vs... - Chapter 4