My name is Len Frankson, I was born the second son of a carrot farmer, just outside the town of Riverview. Like all farmers’ sons, I was put to work as soon as I was able to simultaneously hold a carrot and walk unaided. Despite this, I had a relatively happy childhood. Schooling was done by my mother, under the guidance of the travelling teacher. Towns and cities had schools, but out in the countryside, that just wasn’t feasible. Kids had chores to do and couldn’t be spared during daylight hours. How well we were educated depended a lot on how well our mothers had been. I was lucky, in that my mother grew up in the town and had attended school right up until she was married at fourteen. Like her, or my likely because of her, I excelled at sums and had a decent vocabulary. Other subjects were just touched on. For instance, I knew that we lived in a country called Angolland and we had a king called Lancer, who had a palce in the aptly named Kingtown. Just what a country was, I could grasp, but a king seemed some fictitious creature, invented to keep people in their place. It must have worked because we lived in a peaceful area. I knew a palace to be a large home, but as we, and our neighbour’s lived in small one or two room huts, large was a difficult concept to grasp.

Approaching my tenth birthday, everything changed for me. It was the end of a particularly bad winter and bodies were weak with exhaustion and near starvation. It was then that I was struck down by one of the myriad child diseases around at the time. It was touch and go for a while, but I recovered, that is, if you ignore the difficulty breathing I had when trying to do anything remotely strenuous. From there on, I was no longer an asset to the family, I became just another mouth to feed. Like all farmers, my father planted seeds and spent time nurturing them until he could harvest them, either for himself or for sale and I think he viewed his children the same. With me, he could no longer see any benefit in keeping me around. I was now no more than a weed to him. Thanks to my mother’s continuing intervention, I was able to stay on the farm, doing whatever little work I could, until my twelfth birthday. I was then given some clothes, food and bedding, before being taken into town and left at a distant aunt’s house. It was to be the last time I saw my parents.

I had never heard this woman mentioned and she bore no physical resemblance to anyone I knew. To me she was an old woman, but looking back, she was probably only in her early thirties. Her hair was dark, always kept in a bun and usually under a bonnet. She was fat, though again, with hindsight, probably just a little overweight. Her weight had to be viewed through the eyes of a life spent in near starvation. She had a stern demeanour, and to a twelve year old lad, was intimidating. I was soon to find that the only reason I’d been taken in was because her husband, George, was sick. They were cobblers, and she needed to continue to work or they’d have been kicked out of their home. My job was to look after George whilst she worked downstairs. I had the feeling that she didn’t expect him to recover.

As I was led into her house, we had to pass through the workshop with its strong and pleasant aroma of leather. I was soon to learn that that leather smell was the only pleasant thing in that house, at least for me.

The first day in my new position, I had need to lift George up slightly, in order to feed him a meat broth, his wife had made early that morning. Meat was a puzzle to me, obviously I knew what it was, but had never tasted anything more than its fat, and even that was a very rare treat.

If his wife looked old to me, then George looked ancient. His hair was turning to grey and his pallor was trying to match it. His eyes had no sparkle, as if he was just waiting for the inevitable. This was as much of him as I could see, for the rest of him lay under a heavy woollen blanket. As soon as I touched his skin, I felt a coldness shoot through my whole body. In my mind’s eye, I could see what ailed him. There was a blackness in one of his lungs, although at the time I didn’t know exactly what they were. I concentrated, feeling that I was in some sort of dream, and began to instinctively mentally attack the blackness. Experience now shows that I did almost everything wrong. Instead of the full out assault, I should have taken my time and targeted a small section at a time. The main reason for this is power or energy. It takes a lot of energy to do what I was doing, energy that I didn’t have spare. I have no idea just when I passed out, just when I was awoken by a vigorous shaking and a screaming aunt.

“I leave you for a couple of hours to do one simple job and you fall asleep on me. You are worse than useless.” There were a few adjectives in her diatribe that I’ve omitted, as I have no idea what they mean, other than I don’t think that they were complementary.

Thus, I found myself out on the street, sitting on the hardened ground, looking up at the door as it was slammed shut. I was scared, I had nothing. The door reopened. For a split second, I thought I’d had a reprieve, but no, the rest of my meagre belongings were thrown at me. My only positive thought was ‘at least it’s not raining’.

Riverview, is a pretty town, sitting, as the name suggests, beside a river, in this case the River Ess. At this point in its journey, the Ess was a middle aged river meandering through the countryside. It had lost the vigour of youth rushing down from the mountains and hadn’t yet had its two major tributaries join to form the wide majestic river that reached the sea. As that was only a short distance away, the river was quite navigable for most boats and even some of the smaller ships. There were two bridges that spanned the river, predictably named the New Bridge and the Old Bridge. Below the latter is where I spent my first night of homelessness and hopelessness. I sincerely considered just walking into the river. There were a few others spending the night there. All gave me the once over but soon realised that I had nothing worth taking, so I was left alone. In different circumstances, I might have enjoyed a night by the river, it’s gentle sounds relaxing the mind. It did help me to fall asleep, though not for a few hours. I was a little surprised to find that the few belongings I had were all still there in the morning. My father had always preached that everyone, except him of course, was a no good thief, with every man out for himself. Happily, I was to find that this was far from the case.

That first day was spent walking around the town, looking for inspiration, to say nothing of food. None came, neither did any offer of work at the businesses I tried. They wanted men, not some stick of a boy with breathing problems. The town sits either side the river. Northside is where the wealthier live and where the local baron’s manor house was situated, I wondered if this huge, in my young eyes, building was anything like the palace of the King.

Closer to the river were the businesses of those affluent Northside individuals. South of the river was where the workers’ hovels abounded and any businesses from that side, catered only for those with sparse funds. That hoped for inspiration never paid me a visit. What did arrive was hunger. I’d discovered a few place where I could find a little water to drink, but nowhere for food. At least the folk on the South side weren’t nasty with their refusals, unlike those across the river, some of whom were downright vicious. I received a few clouts before retreating south.

I returned that evening to the bridge, close to tears, a few more days like that one and I would be walking into the river. Apparently, it was usual for the bridge’s occupants to sit around a fire and chat about the day. Tips were given on where to go, what food had been scavenged and the favourite topic, alcohol. It didn’t take long to realise just how much exaggeration went into these tales, especially regarding alcohol. I suppose I was lucky in that they never tried to take advantage of me, just the opposite in fact, after being ignored the first night, seeing that I had returned, they began to act more like big brothers, even as far as sharing some of their meagre rations, except of course the booze, which I had no interest in anyway.

It was a few more depressing days later that the latter that caused one of the men, Trent, to trip and fall. Unlucky for him he landed on a shard of pottery, which sliced his arm open to the bone. A death sentence, I was told by my nearest neighbour. Trent was one of those that had gone out of his way to help me, at least when he was sober. He was of indeterminable age, dressed in the rags prevalent under the bridge. Looking into the river of an evening was as close he ever got to water, so getting too close was an olfactory danger.

Remembering what had happened with George, I decided to experiment, thinking that I couldn’t make his injury any worse. I took hold of his arm, and like before, I was instantly picturing his injuries, only from inside his arm. I concentrated on healing everything, I wasn’t sufficiently skilful to be more specific. I watched in amazement as I ‘saw’ the arm start to heal itself. There was one other man, holding him up, but when he changed position slightly, his hand held the injured man’s arm. Skin on skin brought a surge of energy through me. I could augment mine with this, and maybe not pass out this time.

It worked and as the others looked on, the wound healed and within a few minutes all signs of the injury had completely disappeared.

“Bloody hell, kid! Why didn’t you tell us you were a healer?” Asked Shorty, who was naturally the tallest of the regulars.

“What’s a healer?” I asked.

“Someone who can do what you just did for Trent.”

“I never knew that I could.”

I explained what had happened at the cobblers and how I’d passed out.

“So you healed the bastard, then as a reward, his wife kicked you out into the street. Lovely People.” Moaned one of the men whose name I didn’t know.

“Why didn’t you say something? Asked another.

“What, I’d just been woken up, I didn’t, still don’t for that matter, know if I’d healed him.”

For the next hour or so, my healing was the only topic of conversation. The predominant part of that was how to take advantage of it. How could they use my gift to make money. Only one, known as Shoes, thought that I should be kept captive and forced to work for them. This was swiftly shot down, as Shorty said. “We may be down and out, lads, but we’re not taking advantage of a young boy, especially after he’s just saved Trent’s life.”

“Too bloody true!” Shouted, said Trent. “We all know that cut was me done for. Anyone that wants to force this kid to do anything will have to come through me first.” This latter, said whilst looking directly at Shoes.

Toff, known for always standing up straight, added. “I have an idea. Isn’t the Reeve’s daughter ill?”

One, whose name I didn’t know responded. “Yes, I bet he’d pay something to get her better.”

At that, they all tried to think of anyone, who might be prepared to pay, that had a child who might need a healer.

The following morning, in bright sunshine which was hopefully a sign of things to come, Toff and Trent took me across the Old Bridge and up to the Reeve’s office. The pair spent the trip explaining just what a Reeve was. Naturally, I’d never met him, but it seemed that he was only too aware of my fellow visitors. I was a little surprised at his appearance. His hair was neatly trimmed and he was clean shaven, but the surprise was his weight. I’d always assumed that as your status went up, so did your weight, Reeve Brest, looked not much heavier than me.

“What do you pair of reprobates want, and who is this youngster?” He asked, his booming, deep voice, belying his stature.

“This is Len Frankson, sir.” Explained Toff. “He is a healer.”

“Is that a fact son?” He asked me.

“Apparently sir.”

“He is. I fell and cut myself badly last night. Bad enough that I would have bled out if it wasn’t for him. Sir!” Trent added.

“And I suppose you know that my daughter is ill with a wasting disease?”

“Yes sir. We hoped that Len could maybe help, sir.”

“What do you do?”

“I’ll need to touch her...”

“Where?”

“Anywhere sir. An arm or even just a hand. I can then sense what’s wrong. I’ve only ever done this twice, so I can’t promise anything. If I can fix it then I’ll need someone fit and healthy to be touching me.”

“Why?” The Reeve asked, before I could finish.

“The first time, I had nobody with me and it took so much out of me that I collapsed. Sir. With Trent here, someone was helping and I could draw their energy as soon as they touched me.”

“So who was your first patient?”

“George Cobbler, sir.”

“I had heard he was ill, then suddenly recovered. How much did they pay you?”

I explained what had happened.

“That doesn’t surprise me. That woman is a harridan, no patience at all. Still, you have given me enough hope to let you try. How much do you want?”

“We thought...” Toff started.

“I didn’t ask you.”

I had no inkling, let’s be honest I had no idea of the value of money, after all, I’d never even seen more than a couple of coppers. “Whatever you think is fair sir.” I stated to the obvious dismay of my friends.

“Right follow me.” He said as he led us through into the back of the stone built building. A woman looked up from the table at which she was working, but Reeve Brest held up a hand to stop any comment. Following him up the stairs, we entered a bedroom that was clearly a child’s. The child in question was a small, delicate girl, who I found later to be eight years old, but my first impression was about five or six. Her face was pallid and her eyes sunk into her face. Her long blonde hair lacked any kind of lustre.

I walked to her and was rewarded with a weak smile. I looked at her father and when he nodded, I picked up her thin, wasted hand. I didn’t get my previous sense of illness, but I did feel ... wrongness, I don’t know how else to describe it. Before I did anything else, I asked my two friends to hold my free arm. Once they had done so, I tried to ‘look’ into the young girl.

There was something there that appeared really malignant, something almost evil. My mind told it to leave the body, which is what I’d done in George’s case. This time though, it seemed to fight back. As I managed to shift it from wherever it was, instead of leaving, it just moved elsewhere in her tiny body. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, I knew what it was and how to deal with it. I applied every bit of energy I could muster, not on the darkness but on the little girl’s whole body. This seemed to create a battle of wills and just when I felt that I was about to lose, it disappeared completely. I immediately lapsed into unconsciousness.

When I awoke, I looked around and was shocked to see that the room was almost full of people, with more than half, curled up asleep. This included the Reeve and both my friends. My first thoughts, though, were for the girl. I was just about to take her hand again when I hesitated.

“Hold my arm please, someone.” I requested.

Three men rushed to do as I bid. I then felt able to examine her again. I looked as deep as I knew how, but found no sign of the malignant energy. Her tiny body was almost healed, but she still had a way to go before she was back to normal. She was severely undernourished, far worse than I was, and only time and proper food would cure that. I forced my energy into the few damaged parts of her body and watched until they were completely healed. I then withdrew and released her hand.

I looked around, happy to see no-one else had fallen asleep. The Reeve was starting to stir, though nobody else was. I looked down at the child, who now was fast asleep, her body already beginning its own recovery program.

“What the hell happened?” Asked a groggy Reeve Brest.

“Your daughter wasn’t actually ill, she was cursed or some sort of magical attack. It was stopping her body from absorbing her food properly. It fought me every inch of the way, but I’m glad to say that it’s now gone completely. All she needs now is rest and nutritious food and she’ll be back to normal in a few weeks. Who are all these people, by the way?”

“You were sucking energy out of those touching you so much that I had to summon my staff for backup.” He explained. “A curse you say?”

I nodded.

One of the other men in the room, one that was as well dressed as the Reeve himself, although about twice the size, commented. “That witch sir, the one you had hung, swore that you’d suffer for her death. Could she be the cause?”

“Possibly,” said the Reeve, “it was just after that that Jennifer fell ill.”

He then looked at me to explain. “I tried a witch, accused of taking children for who knows what nefarious reason. She made a mistake of trying to take a wizard’s son, one who had enough of his father’s magic, to knock the witch out. We found many of the clothes, identified as those of the missing children, when we searched her cottage. Sadly there was no sign of any of the children. At her trial, we had two wizards to protect us from any of her magic. It looks like this is one that they missed. Are you certain that she’s okay now?”

“Yes sir. You will need to keep her away from anyone else showing signs of weakness. Her body, until it’s fully recovered, will have difficulty fighting off even the slightest of problems.” As I told this to the Reeve, I couldn’t help but wonder, how and why, I knew all this. I had no idea why I had this gift and assumed that the knowledge I was displaying was all part of the ‘gift’.

“Will you stay here for a few days, to keep an eye on her?” He asked, although I got the feeling that it was more of an order than a request.

“Sure, it can’t be worse than under the Old Bridge.”

He laughed. “I would certainly hope that we can offer better than that.”

“What about us?” Asked Toff, who’d now rejoined the land of the living.

The Reeve looked at me. I answered his unasked question. “You mentioned payment earlier. I have a suggestion, but honestly, that is all it is.”

“Go ahead.”

“Is there an old unused, but still serviceable building, where the homeless could sleep if they wanted to. Possibly with an Evening meal and breakfast.”

“That’s not a bad idea, though there will have to be some rules. Boys?” He asked my two friends.

“Depending on the rules, that would be great, especially in winter.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but a lot will depend on the Baron.”

That was the start of my new life as a healer.

I stayed at the Reeve’s home for a fortnight, by which time Jennifer was fully recovered, visually at least. She was still a bit small for her age, but that may have been natural. She also, still tired easily, of which I was sometimes grateful. That girl could talk and she must have thanked me at least a dozen times a day. However, she was a delightful little girl and most of the time I enjoyed being with her.

The Reeve brought a couple of other children and asked me if I could help them. The first one I could, and it didn’t even take much out of me. With the second, it was far too late. He died before I could even touch him. That took more out of me than any healing and it was Jennifer, turning the tables, that helped me through. I didn’t think at the time, but I was ‘lucky’ he died when he did, otherwise I might have been blamed.

When Jean, the first boy, arrived, so did Baron Du Bon. He’d heard about me from his reeve and wished to see for himself. He hardly spoke, but surprisingly, he insisted on being the first person to hold my arm when I did the healing. He left the room along with Reeve Brest whilst I was recovering. A little later, my host informed me that the Baron had had his doubts about my claimed abilities. Having seen me at work, and more importantly felt me draw his energy, he now agreed that I was the genuine article. Anxious to have a proven healer at hand, he’d sanctioned my request for a shelter for my homeless friends. One of the conditions were that I stay in Riverview for at least three years and that I pay double the normal tax levy, to help fund the lodgings and the food, he’d also agreed to. Naively, I thought this pretty much irrelevant, as I did not expect to earn much, if anything.

By the end of my two week stay at the Reeve’s home, a warehouse had been cleaned out and set aside for use by the homeless, oh and me, who now had a couple of rooms allocated for my use. Sadly, although it was used by many, the warehouse was never as full as it could have been. That was because, one of the rules that the Baron had insisted on was no alcohol. Many turned up for an evening meal before retreating elsewhere to drink themselves stupid. Being twelve, I failed to understand why anyone would want to even drink alcohol, let alone give up a comfortable cot for the privilege.

The Baron and the Reeve had put out word that I was a healer and I had numerous visitors. Thankfully, Trent and Toff, with the occasional help from Shorty, were now my self-acclaimed minders. They had the enviable ability to sniff out imposters and troublemakers.

A few weeks after I moved in to the warehouse, there was a determined attempt to capture me. It appeared that to some villains, I was a walking cash machine. Thanks to the men staying that night, the attackers were thwarted, with three being captured and tied up for the Reeve to deal with on the morrow. I did have to do a fair bit of minor healing on those that helped. I didn’t bother with the injuries to my attackers. Once everyone was properly healed, I noticed that I too had a small cut on my arm. Unable to sleep, I decided to try and heal myself, something I hadn’t done previously. I found that I could do it just as easily as with others. I also saw a hazy fog around my own lungs, which probably accounted for my shortness of breath. I decided to wait until I had someone else’s energy before I tried to heal that. A few days later, with Trent as the energy source, I repaired the damage and never had a problem with my breathing again.

The Reeve recognised all three of the men as working for a riverboat captain, who was a regular trader in the town. He sent his men down to the docks but unsurprisingly, the boat had already fled. The men were sentenced to five years hard labour in the Baron’s quarry. Unsurprisingly, that riverboat was never again seen in Riverview.

Toff and Trent could read people, and as more folk came to request my services, they suggested a price. It is odd that those with little or nothing almost always offered more than requested, whilst those better off always wanted a discount, even when it was their child who needed my help. With my friends’ approval, I did heal some of the former for free, but with the latter I insisted on whatever price Toff and Trent had suggested. Despite the ludicrous claims of impoverishment by some, they all paid in the end. One wealthy merchant even complained to the Baron that I had ripped him off; after I’d healed his injured leg that is.

At the hearing, he was important enough to warrant one, he explained why he had been defrauded of his money.

“Sir,” the overweight and bald merchant began, “I was charged five gold for healing my leg, yet I know that one of my warehousemen was only charged two coppers for a similar injury.”

Baron Du Bon asked me if that was correct. I agreed it was and explained why I charged like I did. Toff had spent a good hour or more explaining what I needed to say.

“The labourer in question was injured in an accident that could have easily been avoided had Mr. Price here replaced the well worn and frayed rope.”

“I have already done so, sir,” he responded pompously.

“Yes, after he was injured, not before. Anyway, I was able to heal his leg and charged him two coppers, that for him, is a week’s wages. He was happy to pay as he could then continue to earn. When Mr. Price came to me with a similar leg injury, he was told in advance that the price was five gold. No doubt used to bickering over price, he tried, without success, to get the price lowered. He then paid up and I healed him. Please note sir, that with people like him, I always demand payment up front as it saves any arguments later.”

“See, he admits overcharging me and by a huge amount.”

“How much do you earn a week?” The Baron asked, before I could. He could clearly see where I was going with my explanation.

“Er...”

“Answer man!”

“Anything between ten and fifty gold.” He mumbled.

“So he charged you a few days income, yet he charged someone who was injured due to your parsimony a week’s income. I agree, that does seem unfair. I therefore command you to pay the same, which if you average your income at, say twenty gold, means you owe the Healer fifteen gold. My Chamberlain will see that this is carried out. Dismissed.”

The merchant was fuming but he knew better than argue with the Baron. We were led outside by the Chamberlain and a guard.

“Have you got fifteen gold on you?” The Chamberlain asked politely.

“Of course not!” Mr. Price shouted, “I’ll get it to him when I get chance.”

Knowing that was unlikely to happen any time soon, if at all, the Chamberlain had other ideas. “We are quite happy to wait here whilst you fetch the money. In fact, I think I’ll send a guard with you ... for your protection, of course.”

As I watched the Merchant’s face become crimson, I wondered if I might be needed again. He just turned, without saying a word and left. At a nod from the Chamberlain, the guard followed him out of the door.

“Now, young man, the Baron wants a word while we wait.” With that we returned to see Baron Du Bon.

I was apprehensive and it clearly showed, for the Baron laughed. “Don’t worry Healer, you’re not in any trouble. I just want to talk to you about a few things, including your future.”

“Yes sir.”

“I like your charging system, your friends’ idea I presume.”

“Yes sir, they set the charge before I get to do my healing. They also collect the money if they don’t trust the patient sir.”

“What happens to the money?”

“It’s kept in my bedroom sir.”

“I thought as much, not very safe there is it?”

“I don’t know, I suppose not, but I have nowhere else to keep it.”

“I have a feeling that you are going to amass a nice tidy sum, and I don’t want you at risk of thieves. For just a few gold, there are those out there that would happily murder you and your friends.”

I knew that he was right but had tried to pretend otherwise. What really upset me was he’d included my friends. I didn’t want that on my conscience.

“I therefore suggest, and that is all it is, a suggestion, that you keep your money here, in my treasury. Obviously you will be issued with receipts for everything. What do you intend to do with it, anyway?”

“I haven’t planned that far ahead sir. In fact, I’m surprised at how quickly my money as grown,” I said, before risking, with a smile, “especially with the double tax I’m paying.”

The Baron smiled too. “Yes, but it is still costing me some to support your venture. What I suggest is that you look around Northside for a property that will provide you with what you need to carry on your business, because young man, that is exactly what you now have, a business.”

“Why Northside, sir?”

“That is where most prosperous businesses are and it’s therefore safer than near the river, or to its south. I don’t expect you to only aim at the wealthy, in fact, I reckon those living in Southside will always make up the larger proportion of your customers and I wholly approve of that.”

I was puzzled, why would the Baron take so much interest in me, a twelve year old boy. That description of me, also explains why I didn’t have an answer. That would only come in time, when I learnt about the economics of towns and cities. A town with a healthy workforce tended to be a prosperous one.

It was about three months later, around about the time I turned thirteen; I say around the time for I don’t know my actual birth date, just that it was in late Spring; that we, that is Toff, Trent and myself, were heading back from the Baron’s, having deposited a week’s worth of gold, that we were set upon by a gang of thugs. I tried to fight back, but a thirteen year old boy is no match for a fully grown man and I was soon knocked unconscious. I may be a healer, but I need to be awake and concentrating to heal anyone, including myself. When I regained consciousness I was surrounded by people, or should I say that we were. They included a number of the Baron’s guard.

Seeing that I was awake, the Sergeant asked me what had happened.

“I’m not certain, we were just heading down this road when five or six men suddenly attacked us. I’m afraid that apart from one weak punch, I wasn’t very good at defending myself, let alone my friends. Shit, how are they, are they okay?”

“Toff will live but no doubt have need of your services, but I’m afraid that Trent is dead. Between them, they managed to take down three of your attackers, but at a very high price.”