It was no more than five hours later when a series of three light knocks woke me up. Once again Lydia entered the room. This time with a wooden tray carrying a bowl of soup and another cup of water.
"Please eat and drink as much as possible. It will help your legs heal." Talking as she handed the tray over. Just now noticing a lack of feeling in my lower half I remove the thin blanket covering my lower half. They are hideous looking things. Bent and broken in two different places each and covered in black and purple bruises. "You shouldn't be too worried. When we found you three weeks ago they had three breaks and had even worse spotting." Lydia moves the blanket back over my ruined legs.
"So what is your name child?" speak as she takes her place at the foot of the bed. "I don't remember." I begin to enjoy the watery soup ignoring my hosts questioning eyes. "Then do you know where you came from?" Shrugging my shoulders in response "I do not know who I am or where I came from miss." My reply is truthful. Lydia Nods in response.
"Then from here on out you are Alexander son of Marcus and Lydia. As we are but humble serfs we have no last name. This is the village of Esting your new home forever and always." Heavy footsteps march towards the still open doorway. A large burly and mean looking older man stared down at the bed locking his eyes with mine. He was an ugly man his nose too big his eyes too far apart he was drenched in sweat and had creases on his face from always wearing a scowl
"So the boy finally wakes huh." He huffed and left the room as suddenly as he arrived
"That is Marcus. Don't mind him he means well. He simply works hard at the forgo all day and night." I remain silent taking a large gulp to finish off the food. Lydia takes the empty tray and begins to leave before turning to gaze upon me once more. "Get good sleep. Tomorrow I will start to teach you how to both read and write. As well as the household chores I need help with." She turned and left the room.
Not tired enough to sleep I let my eyes wander around the room. "What am I." "Who am I" Pondering my situation I decide I am now Alexander. I am a serf whatever that means and I live in a small village of some kingdom. I lay down and force myself to sleep.
The next few days flew by rather fast. Not to much happened besides learning how to cool and make clothing alongside Lydia. Marcus was always out of the house working he seemed to avoid me whenever he was not working. Lydia told me he was a blacksmith and made most of the villages tools and kitchenware, He also was consistently hired to make horse shoes for Nobel of neighboring regions.
Compared to the rest of the village besides the elder our household earned a comparatively large income in the village. However it was still a small amount as most went to new smithing supplies. When not doing household chores Lydia taught me how to read and write something apparently very rare amongst serfs and poor. She says it is to help with reading orders for the forge when I am strong enough to aid Marcus. I don't fully believe her reasoning as to why she was so literate but in all honesty I simply don't care.
Lydia and I sat quietly at the dinner table engrossed in our own projects. She was stitching away at a pair of leather overall Marcus had ripped a day earlier. Meanwhile I sat trying to add a hood to my own wool tunic. Seeing no better time to ask a question that has been plaguing my mind I turn toward Lydia and break the silence. "Lydia. Why did you save me?" She stirs moving but doesn't raise her eyes to meet mine. Setting down her rusting needle she looked at me after what felt like an eternity.
"I never told you this because it is still an open wound. Me and Marcus did once have a son. His name was Samuel and he would have been Ten the exact day we found you." she took a deep breath. "He died two years ago. He was always more frail than the other boys of the village so when a sickness swept across the duchy he didn't put up much of a fight." Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. "So when I saw you on the way to our son's grave in an even worse condition than Sam but still fighting hard for your life I knew you deserved a chance. That is why Marcus is so distant from you. He does not wish to lose another son so he avoids making one." I look down with a wave of guilt for making her relive that painful memory.
"Thank you for giving me a chance." My reply comes off weak and sorrowful.
Lydia stands up and gives me a hug washing away both our poor moods immediately. "Now hurry and finish that hood so I can scold you on how bad the stitching is." She said jokingly to lighten the mood. Nodding in reply we both return back to our work.
A hour later I learned she was right. My stitching was awful.