Puss In Boots Part 1

1
The Wealthy Merchant


The merchant had spent his lifetime building a life for him and his small family to enjoy together. When his wife died it seemed that all his hard work and well invested time had been in vain. She had left him with their three sons. He had considered for a short time remarrying so that they would have another mother, but it hadn’t worked so well for his friend’s daughter Ella. Instead he began to focus again on his business and his home, so that when he left the world to be with his wife his sons would be set up.
I
t was a cold night and he sat poring over the numbers that lay before him on parchment. Though a few flakes of dry snow drifted in from his window he kept it open. He kept the house exceptionally warm for his boys. He didn’t want them to be sick. He wished that he could protect them from all the pains and disappointments of the world, but he knew such thoughts were nothing more than wishful thinking.

He picked up his quill and ran his tired eyes over the yellowed parchment one more time. He was doing fairly well, even in the hard winter months his business was growing and his animals were healthy and producing well. The quill he held was red, just like the feathers that his wife had worn in her hat the last they had all been together. He ran his tough callused fingers over the edge of the feather, his thoughts turning to his beloved wife. A single crystal tear dropped from his eye onto the parchment on the desk that he sat at. It went unnoticed.

A shadow fell over the merchant’s face and he looked up. The pale moonlight that had been shining through the open window was blocked by something black in the window sill. The black object moved, the hairs on the back of the merchant’s neck rose in fright. He shifted ever so slightly in his seat. The shadow descended silently from the open window toward him. He nearly fell backward scrambling to rise from his wooden chair.

“Meow,” the shadow said as it landed on the tear stained parchment. It was a calico cat.

“Oh,” was all the merchant could manage. He felt rather stupid for letting a simple street feline frighten him so badly. “You must be hungry and cold.” His wife had always laughed good-naturedly at his unusual habit of talking to animals as if they were people.

“Merow,” it agreed with him.

“Let me get you some milk and meat, heavens knows I have enough of it,” he smiled down at his unexpected guest.

He walked out of his office, keeping the door open behind him so the cat could follow him if it so pleased. His slippered feet made little noise as he walked down the wide hallway past his boys’ rooms and into the kitchen. It was dark and he quickly lit a lamp to cast its warm glow on his surroundings.

He turned to go to the ice box that was attached to his house he almost tripped over his guest. “Sorry,” he apologized to the cat. “I didn’t hear you following me. You are a cat after all.”

“Meerooow,” it seemed to agree with him sadly.

“If you’re a cat you’ll love meat and milk,” he told it, the sound of his own voice was somehow comforting.

Soon he had a small china saucer of milk and a small wooden bowl of cubed meat laid on the floor for the cat. He sat in a chair watching it eat away at its midnight meal. He smiled uncontrollably. He had owned a cat when he was a young boy, but it had been much wilder than the puss in front of him. It was finished rather quickly and licked its jowls satisfactorily.

“I have a nice fire roaring in my sitting room,” the merchant smiled down at it. “I bet you would like a nice nap next to the blaze.”

The cat purred in appreciation and he led it from the kitchen to the dining room and into the sitting room. The fire was still blazing warmly. He threw another log in, just in case. His visitor quickly found the rug close to the flames and showed its pleasure by kneading the material with its claws. He chuckled good naturedly at its performance and sat in the ancient armchair that sat before the fire. The warmth and the comforting chair soon got the best of him and he fell asleep.
The cat purred on, always keeping one of its golden eyes trained on the merchant.

“Dad!” his oldest, Mykal’s voice woke him from his restful slumber. “Dad! We need to get ready to check on the animals!”

“Alright,” the merchant grunted before he even opened his eyes. “Get your brothers up and I’ll be ready in a moment.”

“We’re right here!” the second oldest, Alain, told him. The merchant cracked open a tired eye. “Thomas was difficult to get up, but he’s all ready now.”

Thomas was his youngest. Quite a bit different than the older two boys, Thomas was pale and thin. He was a short young thing. As his older boys loved getting up and checking the animals with him and going to town to haggle prices and buy trading merchandise, Thomas was happier alone, reading books and drawing with colored charcoal sticks.

The merchant looked at ten year old Thomas. His boy’s tow blonde hair stuck out at all angles. Cute was what most of the older women that saw the boy in the town called him, but for this Thomas was teased incessantly by his older brothers. They were born each nearly exactly two years apart.

Nearly an hour later found the little family all on horses that were walking along the snow dusted hills that were the merchant’s lands. During the summer they were fertile green rolling hills, the envy of all his neighbors.

They spotted the herds of cattle al laying together, the snow that had fallen around the herds had melted already. The two older boys pointed enthusiastically at the cattle an then the sheep that they looked down on from the hilltops. Thomas, on the other hand, watched quietly, absorbing their surroundings but not truly interested in the animals or the land. Mykal was always the most excited when it came to the land and animals that the merchant had acquired.

After they had assured themselves that the animals were in good condition the family rode back home. Thomas was mostly silent all the way. Mykal and Alain talked excitedly to each other about the coming spring and planting.

When they got back home the merchant had them change into nice clothes. It was time to go into town and make deals. This time the merchant had a coachman drive he and his boys into the town, as much as he hated to admit it, it was important to maintain a certain image when doing business. The coach ride was relatively calm and quiet considering he had three young boys with him.

Their servant, the coach driver, took them directly to Emerald Way. Emerald way was where the most business was made in town. The large wide road was filled with colorful stalls on both sides until there was only enough room for three people to walk abreast. Beautifully colored clothes were stretched from the roofs of the buildings overhead to provide cool shade for those shopping below.

Shopping with the merchant wasn’t like shopping with a normal person. He haggled each price to its best value and made contracts with other business men. His two older sons loved watching him haggle and make exchanges. Alain, the second oldest, was already quite adept at haggling, at twelve he was already nearly adept as his father. Nothing gave the boy more joy than getting a price at the goal or even lower that he had set for himself.

That day as they haggled prices and made deals they lost Thomas three times. Once when he had stayed to watch the painter work his craft, next when they passed the book shop the boy had slipped inside to steal a look, and finally the youngest boy joined a circle of children around an old storyteller weaving a tale of princes and dragons in faraway lands.

After this last time the merchant was forced to take his son aside. “What is the matter? Are you not interested in the family business, Thomas? Do you not care how we are doing?”

“I’m sorry father,” Thomas apologized, looking at the hard packed ground and kicking at it with his shoes. “I just got distracted by all the beautiful things here. There is so much to see and do.”

The merchant drew his son in close and gave him a reassuring hug, “I know, but sometimes we have to give up the things that are fun to learn to live in the world around us.”

“Alright,” the son agreed.

“Come on, we just have a few more things to do, then I promise that we’ll make time for you to do something you like,” the merchant promised. Thomas flashed him a smile and ran out to join his brothers who were haggling prices with a material vendor at his stall.


After they had arrived home that night his boys were quick to bed and his servants stormed through the house cleaning up after them, then they too went to bed. The merchant returned to his desk to track all the purchases he had made that day. Inventory was probably the thing he liked least about his life as a merchant, but it was necessary to keep making profits.

He sat with his quill and parchment yet again. “Meow?” came the voice he least expected.

“Oh,” he put down the quill and looked at the cat that stood staring up at him, its tail twitching inquisitively. “You’re still here. I had no idea.”

“Meow,” it confirmed, jumping into his lap.

“I don’t know what to do, Puss,” the merchant stroked the cat as he spoke to it. “I am getting ready to draw up my last will and testament. Mykal clearly loves the land and the animals that I have on it, while Alain would do very well taking over my business as a merchant. But where does that leave poor Thomas? He doesn’t like the same things I do. He is so much like his mother. What do have that I can leave the poor boy that will make him happy?”

“Meow,” the cat responded, but it didn’t seem to help. The merchant sighed and put down his quill.

“You’re right,” the merchant relented. “Let’s go eat.”