Without his knowing it, the young boy’s reckoning of time was very accurate. The big man who called himself Bru had been Gord’s friend for almost exactly a year before they went out on the Green and up to the tower top to view the city from a bird’s perspective. After that, the two saw each other pretty frequently as well. Sometimes his friend would be there every day for a week, then again Uncle Bru might be gone for twice that long before coming back and searching out the urchin within the twisting streets and narrow alleys of the slums. Once Gord wondered aloud why, if Bru knew he was going to be gone a long time, his friend didn’t give him extra food and maybe a few small coins so that Gord wouldn’t have to search and scavenge to stay alive.

“That wouldn’t be fair to either of us, Gord,” the big man had said. “Don’t you have to earn what I hand over to you?” Gord admitted that was the way of things. “Then how would you be earning it if I just gave you things because I was going to be away?”

“Weil, who says you have to earn stuff?” Gord was cross and quarrelsome. “You’ve got lots and lots of food and money and everything else too. If you can’t be my father and let me live with you, then you could at least give me enough so that old bag Leena doesn’t hit me and be mean to me. You could give me stuff to eat so I wasn’t hungry all the time until you came back.” After the last accusation, Gord could restrain himself no longer, and he burst out in tears.

Bru turned away so that the boy couldn’t see the tears in his own eyes. “Maybe I could, boy, maybe I couldn’t. That’s not really the meat of the matter. I’m your friend, and I’m your teacher too. I say that everything anyone gets he earns, or he pays for. Sometimes earning means working the way you work for me, doing little tasks I give you. Other times it means giving up something to have to learn a trade, working at it, and then collecting earnings. And sometimes people earn what they don’t want to get.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ve seen the gangs of prisoners from the workhouse, haven’t you? Bet you’ve seen the gallows there by the prison, too.” Little Gord murmured his assent, but he seemed uncertain what that had to do with earning. “Well, lad, we don’t always get the right wage for what we do, and sometimes folks collect a lot for doing wrong things. Then again, there are those bad folk who finally earn what was coming to them.”

“Oh…”

Bru’s eyes were sparkling again, and he smiled at his small friend. “So, you see, you have to be able to earn a living here, no two ways about that. What’s more, Gord, you can’t count on me either. Not because I don’t want to be a friend and help you,” Bru went on with a rush, “but because you and I don’t know for sure that I’ll be here tomorrow and all the days after that.”

There was still doubt in Gord’s eyes. “You can do whatever you like.”

“I would that were true, little friend, but it isn’t so. Think of it this way. What if a runaway wagon ran over me? I’d be dead and gone. Suppose bandits attacked and killed me? That is hard for a lad to think on, I know, but you have to be hard inside and deal with the world as it is.” At this last part, Bru took the small boy by his hand and grinned. “We’ve had more than enough of that sort of talk for a long time! Let’s you and I take a prowl around the neighborhood, and we can see if there are any interesting prospects for you to go back and investigate later.”

More months slipped by, and Gord and his friend were often seen about the district. The gangs hated both of them, for the big man was not to be threatened and in fact ran them off if they attempted extortion. Perhaps the members of these bands of young toughs secretly wished they had such a friend and protector, but whether from envy or for some other reason they vowed to get Gord whenever he was without the hairy-faced fellow. The little lad had to be very cautious indeed when he ventured forth on his daily rounds, for the older and bigger boys did watch for him and stole whatever he had.

When Gord complained to Uncle Bru about this, the big man nodded sympathetically and told Gord that he could teach some things to him, but some things Gord would have to learn on his own. That way the lad would be fit to survive in the harsh environment of Old City.

“Do you remember how to count?”

Gord proudly counted to twenty, and he was ready to go on all the way to one hundred, but Uncle Bru raised his hand. He asked Gord to show him how to make the numbers he’d just said. “Easy,” the boy replied, and using his finger he began drawing lines in the dirt. “That’s a one… and that’s a two… and here’s a-”

The boot struck him with fair force and sent him sprawling in the dust. The carefully made numbers were obliterated by Gord’s skid as he fell from the kick.

“Get away from me, you filthy little beggar!” Uncle Bru spat in Gord’s general direction and then turned away and walked off. “If I ever catch you trying to steal from me again, I’ll break your scrawny neck!” he called back threateningly over his shoulder.

This couldn’t be happening! Gord’s mind was racing. Leena would do something like that, but not his friend, not Uncle Bru. He could trust nobody but the big man, and his friend would never betray his trust! Bru was walking away with long strides, not even looking back to see if Gord was injured. Perhaps it was a new game or a lesson…

Thinking that, Gord scrambled up and started to call after Uncle Bru. Then he saw two mean-looking men come out of a nearby alley. They had a huge mastiff with them, and their appearance was sufficient to still Gord’s words in his throat. The little boy swallowed hard and shrank back. He knew the trick of becoming invisible. It is a skill all children have, and it worked only with adults, of course. In the slums, it was a vital part of survival.

Neither man looked at him at all. The huge dog glanced at the boy, then stared at the figure of the man walking away, for that was the object of his master’s attention. “Dat’s ’im,” one of the two said. “Round the corner, then, and we’ll take ’im,” the other agreed as Uncle Bru disappeared down a lane. With that the two men ran off, the mastiff on its rope pulling the one on the right. They too rounded the corner and disappeared in seconds.

Gord’s skinny legs pumped. His heart racing almost in time with his running feet, the boy dashed after Bru, the two bad men, and the fierce dog. He managed to get to the lane in time to see the pair chasing his friend turn into a side passage, a gangway too narrow for them to walk abreast. The one with the mastiffs rope went first, with the dog straining ahead. Gord slowed and crept closer, because the second of the two pursuers had stopped and was standing just inside the narrow passage.

Then a horrid growling echoed from the gangway. The mastiff was attacking Uncle Bru! The ferocious sound suddenly changed to a rising howl, however, and it ended with a high-pitched whine that was cut off suddenly.

“Shit!” The man still waiting near the entrance said that loudly. Then he produced a small sword from beneath his jerkin and rushed into the passageway. As soon as he did that, Gord was able to run up to the place to see what was going on.

He heard sounds of the struggle as soon as he got to the opening between the buildings. Gord peered around the corner cautiously, wanting to run right in and help his only friend, but knowing that he was far too small and weak to do anything except get in the way.

The passage was short, no more than a dozen paces long. After that the space between the two structures widened and was open to the sky. Gord could see the shapes of three men beyond the gangway’s end. One was surely Uncle Bru, judging from his size and his beard. He was locked in a hand-to-hand struggle with one of the smaller men. The other assailant was dancing around the pair, sword in hand, trying to find an opening to strike with his weapon.